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  • Aging is for the weak, and everyone else
  • More short cuts
  • Smol Ketchups
  • What’s the opposite of green juice and deep breathing
  • Living through it all online
  • The Change
  • 18
  • Ok but ALSO:
  • Midlife POV
  • Influence and Dooce
  • Horse therapy
  • You can’t go home again
  • Obsolescence
  • Before and after
  • A cringe confession on friendship

Archives from 2002-2006

I take back every bad thing I once said about Twitter, because not only am I finding it entertaining, but useful, too. I posted (I cannot bring myself to say “tweeted”, okay? I HAVE LIMITS) that I was looking for a picture of this contestant’s hair from Wednesday’s episode of So You Think You Can Dance and boom, two awesome people totally helped me out. Here’s the hair, and dude, is that a cute style or what? I kind of want to bring it to my stylist and be all MAKE ME LOOK LIKE HER, but I’m also thinking that’s a ‘do with some maaaaaaaaajor upkeep. Still! So cute!

I’m sort of hating my hair right now because it’s growing out of its cut (clearly what I need is a style that will require even more trips to the salon, duh) and the bangs are at this awkward length when it comes to working out — they’re too long to just wear as usual, because as soon as I get sweaty they flop down in my right eye and if I try and push them out of the way they look hideous and won’t stay put, and they’re too short to efficiently tuck behind an ear or something. Last night I went to a new gym class with what basically amounted to two ponytails high up on either side of my head, holding back as much hair as possible, while the shorter back and sides just flopped down like a mullet. SEXY. Not that it mattered what my hair looked like, since the class ended up being a series of conditioning drills including many, many pushups and something horrific involving keeping your weight on your hands while you sort of jump your feet back and forth in a big lunge-running motion (I don’t know what that’s called except maybe the Hot Painful Death Lung-Puke Routine) and by the time it was all over I pretty much resembled some particularly disgusting piece of human special effects from CSI: 24 Hour Fitness.

Also, speaking of the gym, I think it would be fun to do a series of character studies from that place, maybe take some photos and put it all together into a nice coffee table book. There would be Loud Grunty Free Weight Guy, and Spectacularly Odorous Hefty Dude On Elliptical, and Short-Shorts Hip Hop Class Girl, and Embarrassed Lady Reluctantly Working With Personal Trainer, and Cocky Meathead in Massive-Armhole’d Tank Top, and of course me, the Pretending to Take a Water Break While Actually Avoiding Round Five of Those Motherfucking Pushups Girl.

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Weekly Elsewhere Blogging Wrap-up:
• Embarrassing children’s items and life with Riley at ParentDish
• A milestone reached and more 3-month thoughts at Gather.com
• Father’s Day gift ideas, round two*; Kid’s storage solutions at Work It, Mom!
• Lynda Barry*, sewn art, Facebook advertising*, and eyebrow maintenance at SundryBuzz

* These posts written by everyone’s favorite blogger, Swistle

(By the way, does this little section bug you? I figure you can just skip it if it’s not of interest, but if it smacks too heavily of sticky self promotion, just say so! You won’t hurt my feelings. MUCH.)

:::

Lastly, I put this on Flickr the other day and I watch it whenever I need a quick laugh:

• The term “mompreneur”. It’s just . . . argh. Listen, you run your own business? You’re an entrepreneur. Doesn’t matter if you have kids or if your products are marketed to parents. Knock it off with the wide-eyed amazement over the notion that a mother can put aside her all-encompassing household duties long enough to make some damn money.

• The never-ending staged photos of Heidi and Spencer, who apparently are on some show? About hills? All I know is that every sickening image I see of them makes me feel very very stabby, and really, I’m not normally a stabby sort of person.

• My laptop, which probably has something wrong with its cooling fan, because it is pan-searing my thighs every time I use it for more than ten minutes.

• The idea that you’re not a “real” writer until you get published. A writer is a person who writes. Full stop. The quality of anyone’s writing is completely subjective and having a book deal doesn’t necessarily make you a better writer than the person who fills paper journals that will never be read by another soul.

• Teeth. Fuck teeth, you know? They start out by making babies miserable little screamy drool machines, and if you’re like me they end up causing you to endure about fifty different orthodontic devices including HEADGEAR when you’re a hormonally wrecked teenager. We need to evolve past this calcified bullshit and develop the teeth version of LASIK. Zap zap, here’s your new perfectly designed mouth, go ahead and knock yourself out with a Bit-O-Honey.

• Stephen King inserting himself into the last Dark Tower book. See also: M. Night Shyamalan “acting” in his own movies.

• The unbelievable state of political correctness most of us are living in, and I hope you understand I am not saying I sure do miss all the RACISM, I’m just wondering if it’s possible to talk about ANYTHING anymore without stirring up controversy. On that note, I laughed like hell at Anne Lammot’s completely non-defensive explanation of choosing to circumcise her son and her subsequent description of thinking that uncut penises looked like “a rodent disappearing up a garden hose” and then I thought that anyone who wrote that today on, say, a parenting publication, would be TARRED AND FEATHERED. Look, I’m not saying she’s right, but that’s FUNNY.

• The taste of Coca-Cola Zero. Cloying, yet vomitous!

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