I stood outside in 30 degree weather to get a photograph with a celebrity. I thought rock bottom was plucking a chin hair in a minivan. I was wrong. It’s being the 39-year-old woman waiting near the stage entrance of a local theater. How the f*ck did this happen? Well, the short answer is: It happened because I had unprotected sex 15 years ago and didn’t abort.

I surprised my teenage son and nephew with tickets to see the Impractical Jokers live show. The comic group “The Tenderloins” is a bunch of guys who met in high school.
Their relationship runs a little deeper than the guy you friended on Facebook because you had Science together in 9th grade. They were best friends who did stuff and ended up on TV. I’m not a G*d damn biographer. If you want more information Google it.

They have a show on Tru TV. What the hell is Tru TV? I asked the same question when my son introduced me to this series. It’s a cable channel somewhere on the dial….. if we still had dials. My kids wouldn’t have lasted a second in my Keds. I actually had to walk to the TV to change the channel or turn up the volume. They don’t know how good they have it.

“Impractical Jokers” is a hidden camera practical joke show. Ashton Kutcher does not jump out of the bushes. My son is obsessed with this series. Growing up, we had “Who’s the Boss?” They watch a group of grown men play truth or dare, minus the truth option. They ain’t no Tony Danza, but the show is pretty funny. Their live standup performance was hysterical. I actually laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes. More importantly, my son was happy and thought I was cool. Impressing a teenager is like finding a Kardashian who is a virgin. It doesn’t happen.

By the time the show ended it was well
past my bedtime and I had to pee, but I couldn’t quit. I was so close to getting another #1 mom mug. So, I told the boys we could wait outside and try to meet the jokers. They had to leave at some point. We had them cornered. There were about ten other people waiting, too. Four days later, two of the guys (Joe Gatto and James Murray) finally came out. They made up a “dog ate my homework” excuse for why the other two (Sal Valcano and Brian Quinn) did not. “They left already.” First of all, it is “They already left.” Second, you’re a liar, but forgiven because you were kind enough to take pictures. As for the other guys, that was a d*ck move. Don’t underestimate the power of teenagers. If a single tweet by a high schooler can make Alex from Target famous, it can do damage, too. Check yo’ self before you wreck yo’ self. You’re not Elsa. There wasn’t a long line of people. It would have taken 10 minutes.

No, I don’t know what it’s like to be stalked at doors by middle aged women and pubescent boys. However, I did have a little girl ask me for my autograph once while covering a homicide for the late news. If you don’t want fans then go work at a gas station. Nobody is asking the guy who put $10 of unleaded into a hybrid for his John Hancock.

I exaggerated slightly. We didn’t wait for days, but it felt like it. I was standing near an older woman who was pissing her pants every time the door opened. Perhaps, literally. She wanted an autograph. What’s the point of an autograph anyway? They don’t even teach cursive in schools anymore. In a few years autographs will be studied like cave paintings.

The boys were thrilled to get photos with James Murray and Joe Gatto. They seemed like really nice guys; especially Joe. Since my teenager refuses to allow me to post his picture on the blog, I decided to snap a selfie.


These guys are my age. What the hell am I doing wrong? I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. “You’re a good mom,” my husband said when we arrived back home. “This is a something they will never forget. They will share this memory at your funeral.” Well, I suppose I have that to look forward to.

Thanks Gwenny!

As I was putting the empty soda cans into the return machine, warm soda splattering on my jacket, I thought, “What am I going to do with all this money? I suppose I could start Christmas shopping.” Soon after, Gwenyth Paltrow comes out with her 2014 gift guide. It’s like she read my mind. Here are a few items she suggests:

Atsuya et Akiko magic wand ($44)


I can’t wait to see my mother’s face when she opens this magic wand. Her magic wand broke a few years ago. She has been relying on good old fashioned potion. While reliable, the wand will cut the amount of time it takes to cast a spell in half. I think we can all agree that $44 is money well spent if you can turn a frog into a prince.

Tina Frey large white bucket ($370)


I don’t know about you, but I am sick and tired of making my kids vomit in a Lowe’s painter’s pail. What are we, animals? We should be puking in style. Plus, the kids can get sick at once. This is large enough for two people to puke together. The family is going to really appreciate this gift.

Diamond Thickie vase, $12,000


My son won’t mind skipping a year of college so I can buy a vase that only holds one flower. I have a friend who has to carry her flower everywhere because she doesn’t have a vase. She can’t play on the monkey bars, sing patty cake or walk on her hands. That is no way to live. She is going to love having two free hands again.

Bocce set by Fredericks & Mae ($320)


Imagine my embarrassment every time I bring out my Bocce set. The balls are not hand painted. I cringe to think what the other country club members are thinking. Santa may have to bring this to yours truly. It’s worth letting the gas bill slide to buy a game that most people don’t know how to play. Who needs heat during the month of December in New York?

Mackage Lorde Kids Coat, $450


My daughter is going to look fabulous in this coat that will fit her for a few weeks. I can use the grocery money to pay for it. Staring at this beautiful outerwear will distract us from the constant, piercing hunger pains.

Nokona X Shinola Baseball Glove, $435


When my son feels how soft the leather is on this glove he will want to play baseball. He won’t whine to stay inside and play Minecraft. He won’t care that this will be his only present until he graduates high school. He is 7-years-old. Of course, he will have to throw the ball to himself because we won’t be able to afford the local Little League registration fee. Then again, maybe grandma can wave her magic wand and get him on a team.

Easy Health Angel Juicer ($4,739)


I bought my first car for less than the cost of this juicer. I saved every penny to buy a Dodge Daytona. I thought I was the sh*t. Of course, it had a spoiler. My family only has to drink 94,780 more cans of soda and this juicer is sold. Hopefully, it lasts longer than the Daytona.

Listen up

Here is another podcast.  I hope you will give it a listen.  What else you do have to listen to while walking on the treadmill, raking leaves or trying to drown out the sound of the person next to you chewing a carrot? You want to ban fracking? I want to ban public consumption of carrots, apples, potato chips, etc.

Listening to something new is like trying broccoli for the first time.  You may not like it at first, but it will grow on you.   Is that at all what it’s like trying broccoli for the first time?  I don’t remember.  I don’t remember what I went in a room for seconds after I walked in the room for something.

If you don’t like it screw you. I’m sort of kidding. If you do enjoy it please throw compliments my way. Rejection can really do a number on your ego. To quote the great Taylor Swift, “The haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.”  Did I put too many hates? Whatever.


School fundraisers help prepare children for life’s disappointments. I cringe every time a child brings home the fundraising folder. It’s homework for me. I was naive to think I would never have to do homework again once I graduated from college. The PTA scoffs at my naivety. I spend long holiday weekends glueing yarn and beads on poster board. Sure, my kids put their name on the assignment, but I do most of the work. I drive to the store to buy supplies. I operate the hot glue gun. I clean up the mess.

I didn’t know a consequence of pushing a baby out of my vagina was having to take a job as a traveling salesman. I have to hawk sh*t to help pay for field trips. How about we 86 the potted plants on Main Street and donate the money to the school?

Do you know how many people want to buy overpriced wrapping paper or cheese spreads? Unless they are selling an evening with Ryan Gosling I am not interested either. I want to throw the fundraising folder in the trash. Unfortunately, with the catalog comes the prize pack. It’s ‘game over’ once your child lays eyes on the prizes.

My daughter’s school held a fundraiser recently. Among the prizes was a lava lamp for those nights when my 5-year-old is hosting a joint rolling party. There was also a few toys, a tablet and a flat screen TV. She came skipping home with an unrealistic goal. She wanted not one, but two prizes. The problem is I would have to ask the following people to purchase an item: relatives, friends, co-workers, the guy I saw once in the hallway in high school who friend requested me on Facebook and the barista at the local coffee shop. That wasn’t happening. So, the only thing she had a shot of winning was the “mystery prize.” It sounds exciting doesn’t it?

She asked me every day for two weeks when she would get her prize. Then, the day finally arrived. She was giggling with excitement as she opened the bag. It was (wait for it) a pencil. She won a f*cking pencil. I bought an expensive bowl and made a few immediate family members do the same for a damn pencil. It would be a great prize if we had been writing with rocks until now.


My daughter was crushed. Why don’t you just tell her there is no such thing as Santa Claus and crush all of her childhood fantasies at once. You couldn’t give her a toy ring or a small plastic toy? Chuck E Cheese gives away better prizes. If nothing else give the girl a pen.

I try to teach my children to be thankful for whatever they receive. They are pretty well trained. You could give them a bag of actual garbage and they would say thank you. I couldn’t b*llshit her this time. “You’re right. That prize sucks!” We laughed and put it in the pencil case. It will serve as a constant reminder that you don’t always get what you want.

Regatta Disaster

This was posted on Deadspin. I have not laughed this hard in a very long time. My favorite part of the video is the mom screaming, “Come on!” She is pissed. I feel her pain. She is just realizing she wasted hours of her life driving her daughter to and from crew practice. This is when you tell your child they need a new hobby. Rowing is not their sport. Parents think they have to praise their children no matter what. However, there comes a time when you have to throw in the towel. Sometimes no matter how hard you practice you just suck. You don’t have to tell your kids to their face how much they suck. Encourage them to do something else. Encourage them to do anything other than embarrass themselves. Otherwise, you are wasting their time, yours and you will end up being just like the lady screaming on this video

This weekend’s Snowflake Regatta in Riverhead, New York, had to have the least competent group of rowers ever assembled in one place.

Veteran’s Day Deals

Everyday should be Veteran’s Day, but we have chosen one to honor the brave men and women who fight for their country. The deviled egg, vinegar and clams also get a day of recognition in November.

Politicians who have vetoed bills that would benefit veterans come out of the woodwork to praise servicemen and women. They won’t give you a tax break, but you will get a pat on the back in front of TV cameras, of course. Many people don’t bother to explain to their children why they get a day off from school. Thanks to national retailers, Veteran’s Day is also about getting 25% off a Barbie doll, shaker knit sweater and gas grill.

I have a child who sacrificed precious years with his father who fought in a war. So, how can we repay a soldier who saw his friends die in front of him? The USA Today has the answer in this condescending article. Let’s break it down:


“Let’s say you’re a veteran with a lot of time on your hands…”

So, good ole Bruce thinks all veterans are unemployed and roaming the street looking for bargains.


“If you play your cards right…” So, fighting in a bloody war to take down a vicious dictator wasn’t enough? They have to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em to be rewarded for their service?

Kudos to every companies that is willing to donate something to veterans. However, some of the items listed in this article made me laugh out loud.


Sign up for a rewards card and you can have any drink you want. Men and women who volunteered to serve their country only get a small black coffee. Sorry, no latte for you. A grande or venti is going to cost più.


Oh, you thought you would be rewarded with a hot fudge sundae for trudging through the mountains in Afghanistan? I’m sorry. You only get one scoop and back away from the sprinkles.


This is my favorite! Can you imagine a platoon of soldiers in their battle dress uniform playing skee ball? I understand they could take their children, but they don’t even get a slice of frozen pizza? A trip to the salad bar? A small soda? 20 tokens = a soldier’s sacrifice. Here are a few of the prizes you can win with the tickets you earned with 20 tokens.

1.) a pack of sweet tarts
2.) a plastic ring
3.) an eraser
4.) a toy worm
5.) a rubber bracelet.

If that doesn’t get Americans to enlist nothing will.

Let’s trade

I have reached the age where old men are hitting on me. It’s all downhill from here. I was at a gas station when a man, who appeared to be in his early 70’s, attempted to flirt with me. I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring. Nor was I wearing a t-shirt that said, “I heart saggy balls.” The depressing part is he actually thought he had a shot with me. Kudos to him for having confidence, but I may cry myself to sleep tonight.

It has been a week of heartbreak. My 5-year-old daughter wants a new mom. Actually, she asked if she could trade me for my mother. “Grandma could be my mom,” she said while having a tantrum because she was overtired. What’s the difference between tired and overtired? People who are overtired become real motherf*ckers. During this phase of exhaustion the individual is hostile and cries over everything. (Wikipedia needs to update its definition.)

My daughter was sobbing because I put the wrong pajamas on her. She wanted to wear Rapunzel, not Tinker Bell. It’s not like I knocked her out and she woke up in Tinker Bell pajamas. She picked the G*ddamn pair out, but I’m the a**hole? Apparently, it was my fault for not realizing she changed her mind even though she was mute.

I was out of the game. It didn’t matter that I had a good season leading up to that night. She wanted to trade me for my mother. I get it. Grandma is fun. She isn’t the disciplinarian. She doesn’t get distracted by dishes or laundry. She is game for any pretend play. I hate playing with figurines of any kind. Of course, I love watching my daughter’s imagination soar. I do not, however, like that she orders my character around, “Now you say this.” How about I say whatever the f*ck want? Maybe my Barbie doesn’t want to go to the pool with Ken because he lies and only thinks about himself. Grandma follows the script. She will also snuggle instead of lecture no matter what a child has done wrong.

My daughter offered to visit me if she chooses grandma. Isn’t that kind of her? She may have to visit a nursing home. I spent two hours raking leaves today. I don’t think I will be able to move tomorrow without a walker. I took Tylenol and loaded Bengay on my back. The fellas on the pickleball court are going to fight over me. Maybe I should have snagged a phone number at the gas station.

Nudist colony

It is great when you make a friend you can trust. That friendship is gold when you can laugh together. I am lucky to have several who share my sick sense of humor. Today’s guest blog post was written by one of them. Jennifer Gray (with an “A,” she was never left in a corner as a baby, but does have the time of her life.) She is the mother of two adorable children and is one crafty b*tch.

Suburban Nudist Colonies
by: Jen Gray

Nudist colonies must have been the brain child of a group of mothers fed up with doing laundry for the 1000th time in so many days. “THAT’S IT! We are moving to a nudist colony,” I yelled this morning. I do at least six loads of laundry a week for a family of four.

I wash seven pair of my underwear in as many days. It scares me that I only wash a total of ten pair of underwear in a week for the three other people who live in this house.

I am also sick of washing the same articles of clothing over and over. If I see that Under Armour shirt one more time I may choke someone with it. You don’t have to change your outfit like you’re hosting the Emmy’s, but I know you have more than one damn shirt.

Following suit of their father, my kids think the laundry fairy magically appears every night to tenderly wash all of their un-dirty items. I feel like Rain Man, rocking back and forth, babbling to myself how most of the items in the wash are, “definitely not dirty… definitely not dirty….” Are they trying to make me commit myself? I finally enacted a new rule for the whole house: you must read in silence for every minute I spend cleaning up after others. Guess what teachers? I don’t give a damn that I’m using reading as punishment! I am not the least bit ashamed. What else can one use? Money? A 7 and 5 year old have no concept of money. I found that out when I made my son pay the $40 it cost to buy two pair of school uniform pants. He cut holes in them because he was bored in class. I thought for sure he would freak out in hysterics over having to take money from his “ipad-piggy-bank” fund. Not even a tear and he really wants that iPad.

We can’t move to a nudist colony. It was another empty threat. There’s only one thing my kids love more than playing with each other and that’s being naked. My son even calls himself The Naked Ninja. He creeps around in the buff like he is on a covert mission before bath time. I actually have him on video, bare as a naked mole rat, karate chopping the air and summersaulting over his bed yelling, “Hiya!”

Turns out not even forced reading has curbed the laundry fiasco. You run out of options when you can’t punish kids with extra homework, forced nudity or extort money from them. You realize you have to put on your big girl panties (that are washed), pour a glass of wine and get at it. Because really, after wrangling my breasts into my sports bra today I realized that a nudist colony may not be the solution I’ve been looking for.