Junk - Part 1 in a Series (possibly)

Today's flavor: Scrapple - a mush of pork scraps and trimmings combined with cornmeal and flour. Scraps of meat left over from butchering, not used or sold elsewhere, made into "scrapple" to avoid waste. Scrapple is best known as a regional American food of the Mid-Atlantic states.

I've decided that I want to become a minimalist. No wait - don't dismiss this idea straight off. You see, my mind is so cluttered that I have no attention span. For a while, I self-diagnosed ADD - we can do that in the 21st century because having a disorder is a very acceptable answer for any question of imperfection in our lives. But then I realized that actually, as a grown-up, I do have a choice about being focused. On anything. For more than a minute. Where was I? Right. My mind is cluttered and all the junk my family has accumulated over the past decade is not helping. It's time to purge. Not in the bulimia way, but in the get rid of all this useless crap way. The husband suggests that we participate in the town-wide yard sale. Hmmm....I admit that I sometimes enjoy browsing through people's discards and have even been known to pick up a few odd bits from the neighbor's lawn. But as I haul a box full of tattered Barbies, outgrown skates, old curtain rods, and still-perfectly-functional VHS tapes, I wonder. Why the heck do I have all of this, and why do I think anybody else would want it? And what about the exercise of selling that formerly "must-have" $200 bread-maker set for $2.00? I mean what's the point? Imagine my husband standing out there for half a day engaging in such negotiations as the sale of a 10 year old cozycoupe for 5 bucks. On a weekday, he'll charge his clients an hourly rate that could keep me in Prada* but on this particular Saturday, for some reason, he'll high-five me about taking in $50 by lunch time. Can't we just dump it all somewhere? Oh, I know that's so un-green. But I reason it's balanced out by my choice of reusable shopping totes instead of paper or plastic. The point is, I used to have wild fantasies of sitting in the front row at Fashion Week, wearing Versace and waiting for my boyfriend, Tyson Beckford to walk. Now my wild fantasies look more like this:

So, I lay out the cabbage patch dolls, mismatched Duplo sets, threadbard area rugs, what-was-I-thinking pieces of wicker, and Tickle-Me Elmo's. As my basement floor becomes visible, I begin settling into that zen-feeling of letting go. It's so freeing to stop hanging on to stuff. It's so clean, so spacious, so open - so perfect for a home gym...and the kids would love an airhockey table, oooh, and if we got one of those projectors, that wall would be perfect for a home theater. My husband's right, getting rid of stuff is exactly what we need to do. First, I have to schedule a haircut - so that I don't have to worry about my getting my hair out of my face while I shop for the new stuff. You know how it's just impossible to concentrate when you don't feel good about how you look. Oh, that reminds me, I want to get this new flat iron...I better make a list - my head is just buzzing with ideas - or is that clutter?

*Hey, don't hate on that Prada comment. Ironically, now that we can actually afford it, I just can't get myself to buy an $800 skirt to wear to ShopRite.

Social Graceless

Today's flavor: cucumber sandwich - the preferred tasteless social food of the prim and proper.

So, the other day, I pick up my kids at school, and when I run into another mom with whom I'm barely acquainted, and I'm greeted with "Hi! How are you?" I say "I'm hungry and I wish I was sitting on my couch with the TV, a cozy blanket and a pint of Haagen Daz, but I'm here because I have to be responsible. But you don't actually care, so why are you asking? And I'm not going to ask how you are because I don't care and I really just want to get my kids and get out of here." It was so great...Well, in my mind, it was great, because my actual response came out more like: "Great, great. How are you?"

Crap. I have impeccable manners. Truly. I say please, thank you, excuse me, in all the right places. I don't liter, I hold doors open for who ever is behind me. I greet store clerks cordially and I don't snap at wait-staff, even when they suck. I even, heaven help me, say "have a nice day" on a regular basis. That's all good, right? Sometimes, I cringe at my own finely tuned social graces and tidy manners. Whenever I find myself engaging in small talk - or worse, when I initiate small talk - there's a part of me that's screaming or gagging. But on the outside all you see is a perfunctory smile nailed to my face, and possibly my head bobbing stupidly up and down.

It's not that I want to be mean or unfriendly - I just hate small talk and the banality inherent to presenting a civilized demeanor. As Elaine said on Seinfeld, "Why does everything have to have a social component?" then she pretended to be deaf in order to not have to make small talk with a car service driver. I totally get that. I'm sure I'd go to hell for pretending to be deaf - not that I would do such a thing (ummm, I probably wouldn't do it), but I get it.

Sadly, for aesthetic reasons, I can only wear my flair online.

Naked Cheer

Today's flavor: blackberry crepes - looks really rich, substantial, but be careful because if they are rolled too tightly, a hot nasty mess could splatter all over your face.

Oooooh controversy. I caught this story about a cheer coach who got fired because she posed for Playboy, and I thought, this will be popcorn-worthy. (Here's the Today Show story http://tinyurl.com/c33bez) Some of the parents and students support the firing, some want her to get the job back, some want her branded with the a big "S" on her forehead (what "S" is for, you can decide). Ok, that's mostly expected. But the thing that's really going to get the fur flying is that the family that exposed her (get it, "exposed"?) only did so after their daughter was disqualified from joining the cheerleading team due to unexcused absences. My gut reaction is to roll my eyes at puritanical attitudes and people who are always ready to break out the torches and pitch forks. But when the morally superior family denies the notion that they might have been looking for a little payback, I move from the eye-roll to a rant of: "Oh, you nasty, petty, phony, sanctimonious, tiny, tiny people. Who do you think you're kidding?" You could almost feel them clenching when Matt Lauer suggested that they might have been motivated by their own agenda rather than their claim of the greater good. Come on people, if you're going to try to ruin somebody, and you were propelled on to your high horse by spite, well go on with your bad self, but own it. Don't sit there and talk about setting examples and respect while mentally taping your fingers together and saying 'eeeex-cel-lent" in that Mr. Burns (The Simpsons) way. The two wrongs don't make a right concept be damned - I find these parents' behavior much worse than the coach's transgression. And let's not forget all the other outraged families who absolutely had to run to their computers and burn their poor, suffering eyes with the offending images - but only to inform their objections, of course. I totally get why parents react strongly to learning that someone with (at best) questionable judgment and, ahem, loose morals, is in charge of impressionable young minds. I get it, I'm just not going to fly into a fit of righteous indignation about it.

Carlie Beck, accused of being a
very, very bad role model

I know what you're thinking, but my opinion here has nothing to do with the idea that if I looked like that chick, I'd be walking around naked as much as possible. I'm not completely without parental instincts - I don't want my kids by influenced by a depraved element any more than any other mom. But in this case: 1)nudity doesn't bother me and neither does sexuality; 2)so long as she's not recruiting fellow models; 4) she is well-qualified and effective in the job; and 4) I trust my ability to raise my kids with the moral priorities observed by my family. More over, it's a great opportunity to have a hideously uncomfortable conversation with teenagers about all that stuff so many parents are quite sure their little angels know nothing about.

But by supporting this coach aren't you sending the message that you condone her choice to pose nude? Aren't you concerned kids might find this acceptable and even pursue this course as well? Um, no. I am so confident in my parenting skills, that I'm sure my awesomeness will prevail above all other influences. Also, there's the fact that my privileged kids will damn well behave to my satisfaction if they are to be properly equipped with technology and credit cards. I don't expect that a coach who poses naked would deteriorate my child's character any more than one who smokes, or is divorced, or loves the NRA, or spends weekends in full Trekkie regalia. She is there to help girls learn how to successfully bounce around and shake their booties in tiny skirts in order to praise and encourage their male counterparts - not to teach high-minded self-actualization. (No, I don't actually know what that last bit means, but it sounds about right.)

The image of cheerleading must

be preserved for the sake of all of

our daughters who have dreams

of going pro, like this wholesome

NFL cheerleader.

Alright, you former cheerleaders and cheer moms, keep your panties on (I don't usually go for puns, but I just can't resist in this post) - I know it's athletic and teaches stuff like teamwork, sportsmanship and the importance of always nailing a big, bright smile to your face. Oh, crap. I went and flavored it with irreverence again, didn't I?

*Sigh* As much as I adore each and every one of you readers, it's just impossible (for me) to write on this topic and not offend/disgust/piss-off some of you. Well, go yell at me in the comment section, I'll respect your point of view won't delete it (unless I feel like it).

Wedding Profits

Today's flavor - butter creme frosting: an overly sweetened confection and short-lived pleasure

I'm helping a friend with her wedding plans, and this served as a convenient reason to spend hours browsing all the yummy wedding/bridal sites and brilliant ideas to be found online. *Sigh* I've been married 11 years, and my wedding happened before you could do more than send a few dial-up emails on that interweb thingy. Well, it's a different world, but one thing has not changed: weddings and all wedding-related paraphernalia are ex-pen-$ive. (If you really want to class the thing up, anyway.) Hey, put your hand down -I know there are plenty of inexpensive, really lovely options if you're just creative enough. Still, even if our friends are not quite American Express Black posh - plastic cutlery, mid-shelf booze, a home-made cake, and your neighbor's teenage son serving as DJ is not going to work. Flowers, decent food, non-crap favors, and wedding-worthy photography should not be done on the cheap. My big gripe - and don't I always have many? - is that providers of wedding products and services are so willing to take advantage of the fact that this is the dream day and has to be "perfect" - and perfect is gonna cost you.

Of course, all the money in the world won't buy you class. Such a proud day for Mariah's mom.

Well, it turns out, you can comfortably go into temporary (hopefully temporary) debt to pay for your wedding and come out ahead. Pray tell, how? you ask. The key is matching your budget to your guest list. Let's face it, you're doing this anyway - you know you want the childhood friends and not-so-beloved relatives to be properly impressed and without any fodder for derision.

[This post is being interrupted to roll my eyes at readers who swear they are so "down-to-earth" they would have paper plates and canned beer at their own weddings; and of course, when they attend a wedding, they are strictly there to share in a special day. Well, go buckle up your Birkenstocks and braid your armpit hair, while the rest of us enjoy a yummy cup of real life.]

Expensive and tasteful don't always go hand-in-hand.

Where was I? Right. Brides and mothers-of-brides, take a good, hard look at your guest list. Do you have enough "A" list guests? These are not necessarily the people that you most adore. These are the people that write big checks either out of obligation, guilt, pity, pride, ostentatiousness or even generosity. Also, create a second guest list. This one is of acquaintances, people who probably don't like you, business associates that run in much wealthier social circles than you, and people who live much too far away to travel to your wedding. And ladies, don't forget your exes - nothing says "I'm over you, see how well I'm doing" like a check dripping with zeroes. Odds are, most of these people will send their regrets with a $weet gift.

For my friends' wedding, we have a challenging dynamic: this couple is getting married well into their thirties - not old, or "late" as far as I'm concerned, but at the age where they are both in a better financial position than their parents. So, while potential invitees would expect such a well-heeled couple to have an elegant affair, the bride and groom, are in fact, the "can't we just have a picnic?" types. Although they can certainly afford posh, they are sadly, quite practical. They insist that the nice chunk of change required for even an average wedding celebration would be put to better use as the 10% down for their new home. Oh, well, if you're going to talk sense, you're really limiting your options, aren't you? So, in addition to helping to design center pieces and talking the bride out of wearing a sun dress, I'm tasked with extolling the, ahem, virtues of the Wedding for Profit concept.

While I'm writing this it occurs to me that I'm going to have start programming my husband (and start a wedding fund) today, as my oldest is 10 and plans to get married in 17 years. I mean what if she wants a designer frock, like this Reem Acra couture, for her big day? Hmmmm, maybe a sun dress is not such a bad idea.

Honestly, you need professional help...

Today's flavor: chocolate souffle - so yummy, but even if you don't mess up the ingredients, you really have to know what you're doing to get it right.


"Everybody thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor..." Carrie Fisher as Marie in - well, if you don't know, look it up. Of course if you look it up and you haven't seen it, you'll need to see it straight away, or I can't have you here, I just can't. Right. Well, I digress. The point is, why don't people know when they need professional help? I'm not talking about screwed up childhood type of help - that's too depressing and this is far more important. I'm talking about people who: choose pastel formica countertops for their kitchens; feel their toilet seat back needs to be dressed up with something fuzzy; truly believe Crocs are cute and trendy; don't see that their short on the sides, long in back hairstyle is, infact, a mullet; don't understand that blushing the apple of the cheek does not mean make your cheek look like an apple; don't understand that the short sleeve shirt with a tie look only works on Sipowicz*; believe that having English as their first language means they can write; truly believe that watching enough HGTV qualifies them to make perfect wedding favors and centerpieces; think that mastering PowerPoint makes them a fab logo designer; are confident that knowing how to flip the circuit breakers equals a vast knowledge of wiring; are sure that lifting 3lb weights will make them "too muscular" so they'll keep their flab, thank you...oh, I could go on and on.
Someone saved a pretty penny by doing her own mural and getting these, umm, interesting accessories at BigLots!Ain't it classy?

So, build your own deck if you must, go ahead and give your kids a haircut at home, make your own wedding cake...But please ask yourself this first: "If I do this myself will it cause anyone bodily harm? Be a crime of fashion and/or good taste? Be so poorly executed, it will cause other people's computers to crash from disgust?" If the answer is "NO," you should be ok. If your answer is "YES," please - for the love of all things that don't make eyes bleed - get some professional help.

The truly unfortunate thing is that this woman probably has people who call themselves her friends, and yet they let this happen.

Disclaimer: Writing this post does not mean I'm not guilty of any of the above-noted infractions, but at least I'm always aware of my amature status.

*Aw, come on! You remember Sipowicz, don't you?

It's a Cryin' Shame!

Today's flavor - tequila - reminds you of bad choices and worse consequences.

There's something about people declaring: "Shame on you!" or "You should be ashamed of yourself!" that really makes me want to start throwing tomatoes (or something else that will get messy - I really like tomatoes, so I wouldn't want to waste them). In the space of the nano-second following the remark's utterance, I always find myself having several of those JD-on-Scrubs types of imaginary scenarios. (If you don't watch Scrubs, I'm sorry, but see how I've conveniently provided a link because I'm awesome like that.)

Scenario 1: "Shame on you!" I respond by mooning the admonisher (entirely possible if I actually lose these last 35 pounds and am feeling really confident about my butt). 2: "You should be ashamed of yourself!" I retort "And you should be ashamed for wearing that outfit - it's making my eyes hurt." 3: "Shame on you!" I vomit on their shoes. 4. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" I sigh, "Well, you would know - with all that goes on in your house, you could give lessons on being ashamed." And here's my favorite: "Shame on you!" - I burst into tears and grab the person's hand, and holding it to my cheek, I sob, "I know. I know. I'm so ashamed! Don't look at me! I'm terrible, I'm worthless. I wish I were dead. I deserve no mercy. Punish me! You're so much better than me. Teach me. Please teach me, oh, superior one!" And then I laugh my ass off as I walk away.

Now, please don't think I'm having these phrases hurled at me very frequently. I'm not exactly Ruth Madoff , but I have heard it twice in the past 3 or 4 months, which is twice more than I can ever remember. The first was during the "Attack of the Game Moms" incident, and the second was when I posted a snarky response to a post on a Twittermoms group. The details aren't that important - the point is that the sheer bald-faced superiority and condemnation delivered with these phrases really makes the admonishment itself lose all meaning. Maybe I have an over-developed sense of irony. I actually got to thinking about this because it almost seems like the whole "shame" thing is down-right trendy lately. Between the AIG people, the Madoffs, octomom, and the rantings of Anne Coulter, there's enough shame going around to allow us all a few minutes of indignant superiority. But it fades so quickly, because then we're on the flip side for basking in our own faultless glory. Round and round it goes. Shameful.

Perpetual Tight Asses

- Minding your P's & Q's in the PTA


Today's flavor: burnt toast - starts out as something you wanted, maybe with a little butter or jam, but you didn't check the setting and now it's a hard, crusty mess.

WARNING: If you love your PTA, this might not be an enjoyable post for you. (Of course, this is only my opinion/experience - I'm sure your PTA is just faaaab.)

Five years ago, when my oldest started kindergarten, I was the epitome of enthusiastic, stars-in-the-eyes, get-involved moms. I didn't have that growing up, and envied the kids who did (my mom worked full time and overtime, and didn't speak much English, and I had no dad). My kids were going to see me as a regular presence at school, active where they were active, recognized by students, faculty and administration alike, hovering on the brink of being annoying. Fuzzy memories of Harper Valley and Carol Brady intact, naturally, I would join the PTA and jump right in! Slow your roll there, jumpy, you darn-near skipped the initiation. Ok, I guess all organizations (clubs, sororities, cliques, elitist networks of exclusionary bitches) have rules and protocol to observe. I just didn't realize that at this, um, mature stage in my life, I'd have to play these games.

Rule #1 - Know your place. PTA meetings are open to all, providing a forum for questions, new ideas and participation. Well, unless you're a newbie - then you're to just sit there quietly and don't be a bother until you've been granted speaking privileges.
Rule #2 - Just because a committee needs a chair, don't think you can volunteer for that position unless you've gone through the required rites of bunco games, home sales parties and cookie exchanges.
Rule #3 - If you have new ideas to present, be sure you've complied with rules 1 & 2 and then submit them in writing so that they may be formally rejected.
Rule #4 - Learn the language. If you hear them say "your enthusiasm is great!" it means, "shut the hell up"; they say, "congrats on the terrific work," they mean "enough already"; they say, "your feedback is so important to us," they mean ,"our way, or the highway"; they say, "you'll be most effective behind the scenes," they mean, "we're going to give the credit to the PTA leadership"; they say "your fundraising ideas are great, but it's not a good time..." they mean, "we will pressure parents into ponying up the amounts we've deemed appropriate for the programs we like"; they say "please keep us informed of your committee's progress" they mean, "don't even breathe without getting our permission." There's more, but this is the current best key to understanding the terminology.
Rule #5 -Be aware of who is in the "inner circle" of the PTA, seek their approval and don't question the obstacles put in your way.

Who are these women, and why don't they figure out a more constructive way to control their little worlds? They're like mall cops - wearing crappy JC Penney twin-sets, instead of ugly uniforms. They've got this teeny, tiny amount of power and it's convinced them they're on par with Supreme Court Justices.




[Alison Janey in Hairspray, very accurate representation of my school's PTA mom]

This year I stepped up to chair an event that my daughter felt was so important, that I had to do it so that it wouldn't be (her word) lame. My co-chair and I were blessedly like-minded in our goals - it was her first time too. We got all excited and sent a note to the committee members outlining some fundraiser ideas (ones where the kids didn't have to sell anything, the parents didn't get ripped off, and we would keep 100% of the profits) and venue suggestions. Bad move. The inner circle had a rep in our ranks, and when they caught wind of us sending out emails willy-nilly without their blessing, all hell broke loose. We got the language treatment: "your enthusiasm is great...!" etc. Ok. So, we'd check with them before presuming to share our ideas with our committee. Next we got the "you can't do fundraisers - the pittance we've given you will suffice. Oh, and those lofty ideas for a new and exciting venue should be stuffed in the nearest sack so as not to make the other classes feel out-done. Mmm'kay?"Right. Turns out they needed 2 chairs to check off little boxes on pre-approved lists of tasks - a job my 6 year old is over-qualified to do. Although to be fair, my 6 year old is probably more efficient than most of these people - she is certainly more imaginative.






So which piece of flair should I wear to the next meeting?




Would both be too much?