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But I couldn't wait to link to Chuck Klosterman's review of the long-awaited GnR album Chinese Democracy.
I love the Klosterman. This makes me love him even more.
PS: Once you've reached the final line, go back and read it again. Its even better the second time around.
Not to get all I'm writing in my Gratefulness Journal-Oprahfied on your ass or anything, but I just want to take a minute and concretely record somewhere that, indeed, Life Is Good.
I received this lovely package from Robyn S.
yesterday. A sweet note, a mix-CD, and three
TOTALLY AWESOME handmade wacky little
animal head pins. So rad, so thoughtful.
And so it came to pass that my soul was torn from my body, and the world went black and silent.
Thank god I'm far too cheap to spend anything like $800 on a stroller. And I don't buy into the designer label crap either.
WHEW!
I'm okay then, right? Right?
[Shanks to Marie. I, umm, think.]
I'm working on a little side-project, and as a result wanted to pick the Sweetney Reader Braintrust: What are your favorite parent/kid-related sites? Anything from parenting advice to cool kid clothes/toys/stuff to online play for kids to message boards for parents -- anything at all related to kids, babies and/or the parents who love them. Hep me to the cool, cats.
Also, as you may or may not have noticed, this site was down for something two and a half hours today. Needless to say, I'm a bit irked, so if any of you have web hosting recommendations I'd love to hear from you (I'm currently with Dreamhost, FYI).
Marylanders were recently informed that, due to deregulation (and hey, wasn't that supposed to somehow be a GOOD thing?), our rates for electricity will increase 72%, beginning some time this summer.
I'll just let that sink in for a moment. SEVENTY-TWO PERCENT.
So obviously the most pressing question in the minds of Gaughran-Perez household members will shortly become: just how much heat can I bear, and for how long, before I cave in and put on some air conditioning*? And would having six rotating fans directed at one's body set on “HIGH” accomplish a near-equal cooling effect and yet somehow manage to use less energy?
What if I wet down my hair and stuck my head into the freezer for a couple minutes? Yes? No?
While the underdog-lover in me truly wants Taylor Hicks to win (if only because he's old -- well, relatively -- and as a decrepit mid-thirtish Elderly Lady, I like to see the oldsters come out on top), deep in my heart I know he's the Marty of Rock Star: INXS to Chris Daughtry's J.D.: the dude with more talent and personality who just plain isn't cute enough.
And, relatedly, a little heads-up to Chris Daughtry: this world does not need more Creed.
I've been thinking a lot (but not posting about) the interweb brouhaha surrounding MIM's post about “False Advertising” and the subsequent follow-up posts proffered by other bloggers. And though I'm not sure if I have anything new to add to the conversation, I think there's a few things I'd like to say.
First, I think the notion that a husband or wife “owes it” to the other spouse to remain the same weight they were on the day of their marriage is fairly retarded. Does anyone think that is viable? Seriously? Because if so, let's begin instituting prenuptial agreements that also state that men's hairlines must not recede beyond the point they existed at on the wedding date. And that neither spouse's hair can gray... AT ALL. And that all wrinkling must be immediately eradicated via whatever external means necessary (face peeling, burning, botoxing, lifting, what have you). The reality is that part of graceful, natural aging involves physical and metabolic changes that none of us really have much say in, and to deny that is to live in some sort of ridiculously contrived world of self-delusion.
The entire household is sick with some sort of run-of-the-mill cold-like item. M_'s been down with It since Friday, so I still took her to her (new, Jesus-ridden) preschool this morning, which might make me one of those bad Typhoid Mary-type moms who willingly spreads pestilence in the face of spending an entire day home with a crabby, runny-nosed preschooler, but I'm clinging to the idea that after 48 hours she's no longer contagiously hazardous to other's healths. Besides, today was Dress Up Like Your Favorite Nursery Rhyme Character day at school, and I know for certain that years from now M_ would be using her missing that against me. “I wouldn't have become a heroin-addicted prostitute if only you'd let me go to the Nursery Rhyme Dress-Up Day, Mom! I LEARNED FROM WATCHING YOU!” [insert dramatic orchestral swelling]
This morning, however, our preparations for school were more aligned with the wearing-down, persistent agonies employed by medieval torturers than one might expect from a Happy Fun Dress-Up Day, as M_ HATED the clothes I picked out for her to wear as Mary of Mary Had A Little Lamb fame, and fought my application of them to her person like a rabid squirrel trapped in a wire cage. This costume was nothing elaborate mind you, just a simple dress and sweater, tights and Mary Janes. But she whined and struggled and resisted throughout getting dressed: “But I want to wear comfy pants and a t-shirt, Mommy!” Obviously this signals my daughter's budding lesbianism... NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT.
Continue reading "Meandering Monday Morning Mutterings (By Dr. Seuss)." »
Its pointless to post something at 4:30 on a Friday. Everyone is going home, going out, going going gone from the interweb. But.
I think my medication has stopped working. Has anyone else had a kind of sudden, abrupt feeling of seratonin cut-off with Effexor? Because as of about two days ago I've been riding waves of panic-attack anxiety, a chest-tightening dread. And then there's the Not Sleeping; jolting at 3:30am with a kind of searing, taunting wakefulness that will not be denied. Along with this we have the daytime drowsing that never quite turns into restful sleep. I lay on the couch, look at the ceiling, the drapes, the mixed texture of cat and dog hair clinging to the couch... but my brain keeps on talking to itself instead of shutting up and letting me doze off. Stupid brain.
When I was younger it was a running joke in my family that during every holiday break from school I'd invariably get sick. It was as if my body clung desperately to health until the moment came when My Work Was Done Here, and I could allow myself to succumb to whatever pestilence happened to be drifting about in our atmosphere. Maybe that's what's happening here: after a few loathsome weeks of coping I've finally and definitively allowed myself to go under, to be overcome by the badness I've been holding at bay for the sake of survival. Hrmm.
Right now M_ is sitting on the floor, safety scissors in hand, randomly making cuts in some construction paper. “I'm making a card for my papa.” A card of shards and angles and tears. And sweetness, of course. But I can't help think what bad luck she's had, getting a Mom so ill-equipped to deal with simply living, so unable to just be that calm, stable center of her world that she so badly needs.
Courtesy of the Fark SoaP photoshop contest:
More SoaP-related news from EWonline and The Hollywood Reporter. [Props to Ventura Mom for the heads-up on the latter!]
WHEEEE!
Obviously ya'll needed to be hepped to the following:
Music: Clea Hantman is such a busy little bee it makes my head all spiny just thinking about it. She runs two MP3 blogs chock full o' goodness: (sm)all ages (awesome music for kids and parents alike), and yer little sister (indie/alt/punk mp3 blog). She's also a writer, and clearly doesn't sleep much. Or at all.
Couture: My friend Debbie now has a site, 60 Bugs, devoted to selling her very cool hand-embroidered clothes for babies and toddlers (plus some awesome stitched pillowcases). Buy, buy, buy!
Sweetneydom: I'm having some difficulties with comment spam filters I recently implemented, which sometimes leads to valid comments getting snagged and shuffled off to comment purgatory (which I can retrieve them from, but its a manual process and I'm not checking it hourly or anything), thus leading to a delay in some comments getting published. SO: if a comment of yours doesn't appear to be showing up, please don't wig out. I'll (eventually) see it and push it through, and in time these kinks will straighten themselves out. Werd up.
So my friend Amy, of Amalah fame, drove up to the fair Charm City on Sunday for brunching and what not. We'd been planning to meet for a while, and actually had made plans to hook up the weekend after Valentine's Day, but you know why those were foiled. The whole planning process was a perfect example of how difficult it is to negotiate a social life once you have a kid. Sure, we live only one hour away from each other, but who's gonna go where? And for how long? And are husbands available to watch children? And let's keep in mind that we can't stay out too late or drink too much, because to be tired and/or hungover the next day while attempting to navigate childcare and work-type duties would be unfathomable... and so on, and so forth. Its almost like we're fucking adults or something. [shudder]
Now with extra senseless violence!
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I'm an imperfect Gen-X Parental Unit from Baltimore. I believe in early afternoon cocktails, the greatness of Jon Stewart, and that being a smartass is a virtue. More about me...
