Mr.  Paltrow!

. . . ya hi. . . um. . . ya . . . Adam

Ant called, He wants his wordrobe back!

While watching VH1′s Me Myself & I, a doc about the Pinball Wizzard (elton john) the glittery one revealed that he actually enjoyed the sexual side of his short lived heterosexual marriage to some German girl.  Seriously? 

  These two are back together.  Doing it for the kids I bet!  Seriously?

The girls think he is the greatest father/manager/exploiter and wish him the best Father’s Day ever!  Seriously?  He is creepy, too aware of his daughter’s sex lives/bra sizes, and in general a bit incestuous in his demenor.

  We all have hobbies. – I like to collect Christmas ornaments – they come in lots of shapes and sizes and colors, I look around to find them from countries across the globe, and occassionally I have made them myself,  Angie and I are so much more alike than I thought.  Seriously?

Does she realize that the genes for the flat chest and offensive nose are still in her genetic code and that that brand new daughter might get the short end of the DNA stick?  Seriously?

We start our mornings with Spongebob, whom I do genuinly enjoy.  I do think squidword is homosexual with his whole clarunet thing, and his large penis nose, but I laugh to myself.  Spongebob is that type show that sticks in enough stuff for mom to be amused – like the powerpuff girls ( not a Nick Jr show).  After my show is over, we move into the repeated Dora/Diago loop.  Dora’s “abuelo” is clearly a Colombian drug lord in drag.  Her voice is deeper thatn that Oak Ridge Boy’s guy and Dora is always bringing her “packages”.  Dora’s rarely present parents are clearly shielded from child protective services because of their kinship to the drug king. How do you say kick back corruption and deraliction of duty in Spanish?  Who in good faith would send/ allow their kid to travel all over what seems a sketchy neighborhood (full of cranky crocodiles and moulten marshmellow lava mountains) pursued always by Swiper ( code for fence man of hot goods) with only a monkey named “boots” to chaperone?  I think he may double as a pimp when Dora needs to bring back a little extra cash.  This morning it was revealed that Dora has twin baby siblings.  I remember no pregnancy and very special episode of Dora the Explorer to explain this life changing event.  I suspect baby brokering.  Seriously with many Latin American nations tighting up their adoption systems ( as the threat of Brangelina constantly looms) those little suckers can be tricky to get.  And we don’t  see the “twins” again, perhaps gone on to their for real homes?  While in the care of the ever negligent Madre et Padre de Dora, they accidently roled away in their stroller during the night.  Nobody seemed frantic about the situation, as a real parent would be waking up to find their children gone.  No, the Dora family et al joyously sing and dance and swing from vines as they take their own merry time catching up with the tikes.  No police are called, they keep it in the family with Diego and Abuela showing up (in night clothes) to help, No Media is alerted to help in the search and get the community involved.  Very suspicious!  When found nobody suggests they take them to the ER to check for possible injury, no investigation into how this happened is launched.  Its all great that the parents suck and Dora sings us out with the promise of more unsupervised fun in about 30 minutes.  Here is the life affirming thing for me – even though I slip in and out of wake mode while my three year old sits behind my legs on the couch watching her shows, I have never allowed her to wonder about the countryside with a monkey, a talking backpack, and a map to hopefully entertain herself near snakes, crocs, spiders, and natural disasters.  I am a good mom after all!

Don’t get me started on Yo Gabba Gabba – lets just say sex toys   or  Ni -Hi Ki Lan – I may be a xenaphobe but I fear the communist threat still and Max is gonna find out in a few years that Ruby isn’t his sister but his mother ( just like Bobby “Somewhere beyond the Sea” Darin did). 

So, scene opens Playboy mansion and I am the new 4th “girl next door”. ( mind you I am not thin, blonde at the momment, or inclined tobe attracted to my great grandfather’s contemporaries- but it is dream world and I didn’t have the sense that I would have to do the Cialis Cha Cha with Heff – so I was safe).

It is one of those theme parties that Brigid loves sooooo much.  Clearly it must have been my idea because it is a preppy/republican convention theme.  Pink and green polo’s abound.  Golf is the favorite party game.  Button down shirts, chinos, and penny loafers everywhere.  It is too cute, but I get the sense that I am an undercover “girl next door” and that I may have betrayed my covert position by pushing the conservative theme.                              

                                  My Favorite female spys

 Of course the other “girls” Holly, Brigid, and Kendra have skanked up their interpritations of appropriate costumes and there is plenty of mammory tissue and crotch floss to feast the eyes upon.  Regardless, the party continues and at some point Kendra (  her super hero moniker would be “deer in the headlights girl” ) is insulted by something I said about/toHolly.  I am sure I have not done this inbtentionally, but when Brigid chimes in that it may have been a little harsh on my part, I am kissing ass to assure Holly I was misunderstood, cause you do NOT want to piss off the Queen Bee.  I have the sense that Heff is a bit perturbed by my actions and will that jepordize my secret mission inside the formitable Heff Skank clan? Oh no.  I will eventually get back at that simpleton Kendra, but more on that in a minute. ( this is where I sing to myself her theme music ” ’tis a gift to be simple ’tis a gift to be . . .”)

Flash forward to bed time, which to my relief if not in Heff’s room, but rather in a well decorated connecting room sort of dorm arrangement.  As I was shown the rooms, the mansion butler assured me the rooms for my son and daughter had been freshly painted with eco friendly non petrolium based wall paints.  Why they were there I haven’t a clue, what kind of secret operative takes her kids to work with her I don’t know.  Clearly I suck at my job.  After that very brief diversion, I return focus to the room where Holly will be sleeping, as she is getting into the fresh peach colored sheets.  OMG she is stung by a scorpion.  I rush to her aid and as Heff reaches her side, I am appling a tournacate just above the bite to, as I tell everyone milling around, STOP THE PROGRESSION OF VENOM INTO THE REST OF HER BLOOD STREAM.  Quickly I tell Brigid Realboobs to CALL 911 NOW.  Heff stands around useless but concerned about his one true love.  And here is were Kendra gets hers – I order simpleton to CATCH THE SCORPION IN A GLASS, because the doctors at the regional snake and venomous animal clinic will need to evaluate the size and species of scorpion to accuratly treat the befelled Holly.  Apparently I am sending her to a vet, I don’t know.  Kendra has to catch a scorpion that already bit Holly ( not the first time she has had Holly’s sloppy seconds I laugh to myself) and I secretly glee in her dangerous job. HE HE HE.   Heff is impressed at my calm and skill in the situation and more than alittle grateful that I have saved the soon to be next former Mrs. Hefner ( cause she is totally gonna Anna Nichole/ Howard Marshell it when Heff is in geriatric diapers). Unfortunatlly for whatever rogue governmnet agency or forgien power I work with, I have blown my cover, they all see me for the spy I am, and are disappointed and feel used ( which is a feeling none of those girls has ever had I am sure).  Heff reminds them that the important thing is that Holly has been saved and he lets me leave without being killed?!  And I swear I then saw Brigid and Kendra roll their eyes. 

So no more sourkraut before bed for sure, but what does all this mean? 

I hate coloring eggs because nobody ever gets the colors, hues, stickers, dodads etc..that he or she wants.  Tears and lamintations will follow of course.

All 4 children home with just me is stupid.  I can’t be everything to everyone at every moment.  This is a bad omen for summer, for sure.  Wish I could afford those amusment park passes.  May have to whore myself for them, not above that.

When ever one of them does something that may in some remote way possible messup just a little the work/desire/plan of another and thus elicite bitching and complaining I loose it.  One bloody drop of green egg dye in that has dripped from the copper catcher into the blue dye is not the end of the frigin world people.  So when I grab your pissy little mouth and tell you to shut it, don’t run to your room, slam the door, and cry just loud enough for all the blessed world to hear.  You should have expected some response after I ignored it the first 12 times.  Please bitch and moan some more because I have only had 4 tylenol this morning to deal with the headache you have given me.

And no, I don’t want to play Clue or battleship today.  I really want to go through my drawers and get rid of all the clothing I no longer can or should wear.  I want to be left alone for the length of a pee.  I want you to be able to amuse yourself for a little while with all the toys and such that I have bought over the years – money so well spent. 

My husband will be on vacation for the coming week, do you think he will rise to the occasion and keep this pack of delightful children entertained for some portion of each day.  Ya I don’t either. 

Oh wait, my 7 yr old just offered to sort through a drawer with me.  Ya, I guess I love them.

I am no math whiz by any stretch of the imagination, but it seems to me if I (number challenged enough to drop algebra II in high school) could figure most of it out without a million little fancy do-ups than why muddy the waters for todays kids.

My 4th grader is working on fractions.  She is equally math challenged and History blessed as I, but she has to get through it.  She has 15 “strips” of number things that are suposed to help with determining which fraction is larger, a red and blue “loop” move for conversions, and some idiodic saying/poem for multiplying and dividing them out.  Well, she can’t find a red pen to save her soul- so gasp we did it all in pencil – her comment “this makes it faster”.  Her “strips” are lord knows where – some in bag, some at school, some eaten by the toddler, whatever – so I show her how to cross multiply and check and how this is just the opposite of that  etc.. – her observation – “why not just say that in the first place” and “oh I get it”.

I’m just saying, why make it harder for Me her?