WWKAE

We are going to the Oregon coast this weekend. Yes, AGAIN to Oregon. Long story, but I’ll chalk it up to spontaneous and generous in-laws that wont take no for an answer. I will not be posting because I will be hanging out in the rain and trying to hide the abundant supply of cheetos and cookies from my kid. Actually, I’m sure we will all have a really great time. Even if it is exhausting. I have a head cold that came on with a vengeance yesterday, and since I’m weaning Lolo from the b’feeding I can only indulge in effing ibuprofen. The prescription from Nurse Stewgler was to “suck it up,” so that is what I’m trying hard to do. That said, I am thankful that I got a new bikini so that I’m somewhat concealed around the fam - Mr H tried to convince me that its okay to look super hot around your in-laws. I, however, have to disagree that they dont want to see massive cleavage. Could be wrong, but this is on instance where I’m okay with being wrong. Savor the moment people.

So you may totally think that I am super materialistic and love to shop shop shop (although never really buy) and that I must have a closet stuffed to the brim. Okay, fine. But I do have to let you in on a little something - Mr H is the one in the house with the shoe fetish. I mean, dude has at least 20 pairs of sneakers. And I’m not talking stinky running shoes, I’m talking well kempt super clean sneakers that run the gamut from skateboarding, to tennis, to just chillaxin (please, for me, go to that link just to peep the embarrassing and ridiculous definitions).

He has bought at least one pair of sneakers a month since January. I admit, I have helped him, because nothing says I love you like a new pair of shoes. And he is super cute in all of them. However I’m just amazed, my husband has a better shoe arsenal than me at this point. He’s not the only one who appreciates the kicks, there is this whole world of people who are obsessed with cultivating an obscure sneaker collection. Mr H doesnt take it that far, at least he wears his shoes, but dayum, there is less and less room in the closet. The adidas outlet stores are always a must when we go back to Oregon to visit, I suspect the upcoming trip this weekend will be no exception. Maybe its time I caught up…

My my my… As I have previously mentioned, I am going to a wedding this summer. Which is not necessarily newsworthy, because I think everyone has at least one wedding to attend per summer. Alas, I thought I’d share the trials and tribulations because that is what I love doing. I’m thinking that I’ll wear something ivory, strapless, with some lace. KIDDING. Anywho, here are the factors at play in this instance:

1- We are going directly from out trip in Mexico to LA for the wedding. This means I need to have something that can easily be packed and travel to 2 destinations prior to the wedding. Linen is def out of the question.

2- Its a formal, Persian, Jewish wedding that starts at 6 pm. Yeah. So I really need to have something spectacular, and currently there is nothing spectacular in my closet.

3- Beverly Hills people, the 90210 in full effect.

4- And honestly, I am feeling like celebrating the fact that the post-preg body is pretty much back to where it was. The muffin top is shrinking more and more each day and I’m really feeling the guns that I’m rocking from toting around Lolo. I need something that celebrates the new by hiding the old. Therefore silk is off the list because nothing clings to bumps and lady lumps like silk.

I think that figuring out what to wear to a wedding as a guest can be challenging, because you want to look good, fit in, and not be inappropriate. Or at least, not dress inappropriate, whatever you do after you get hammered is your deal. Well, lets see what I’ve been pondering as options for the nuptials:

1- BCBG. Do they ever make a dress that is not flattering? I have a feeling that I will end up with something from here if I cant find anything else.

2- This multi dress by Butter by Nadia. Its super cool because of all the options, and fun, and could def last in a suitcase, but I could really forsee my boob popping out either on the dance floor or at the bar. Or both. And while Mr H was be STOKED to get flashed by me, I dont think anyone else would.

3- A knockoff of the Philip Lim dress that I covet. But would it be the same? And at almost $400 how much of a knock is that? I dont know if I can stomach spending that much, espcialmente because we are trying to save up for the vaycay.

4- I love Anthro so much, however I wish that I could find something there that didnt make me look like a milk maid. Case in point:

Well, a solution may be in sight. C-Ana and I are going to hit the stores, again, this afternoon to see what we can find. I’m really hoping that something will arise as a winner. And then its on to shoes. Sigh.

Over the past week there have been all these lyrics that I have had stuck in my head and all these funny ass things that I said “self, you should totes blog about that because you are hilarious.” But now, nothing comes to mind. Good thing that this isnt my j-o-b, however maybe if I tried harder maybe I could quit my lame j-o-b and do something more fun. Anyway, as I type this, there are like 5000 fires burning in California. You’d think that the windy city by the bay and ocean would be free from all the smoke. Nope. At sunrise and sunset, there is this super creepy red sun. Totally reminds me of that movie in the 80’s, The Seventh Sign. Why the eff did I watch that crap and how did I sneak it by The Bon? I mean, I saw that movie like 5 times. Oh wait, she never censored anything we watched. I mean, I spent so much of my childhood with my face pressed up against the screen wanting my MTV. And watching Eddie Murphy stand up. Now THAT’S A FIRE! No wonder I swore like a sailor. The only thing she ever forbade me from watching was Flashdance. Which you’d think I’d have ignored. However, I still have never seen it. I know - what kind of dancer has not seen Flashdance? Not this one. Maybe I’ll netflix it, but dont tell Bon, or I’ll expect swarms of locusts at any moment.

Today at work I followed up on crap I’ve been procrastinating and emails that I was hoping would disappear. Why not apply that to wwkae?

1- Some peeps have told me that the link for the queen bicycle poster didnt work. So how about this one or this one (not as good but you get the gist) or OMG THE QUEEN BICYCLE VIDEO WITH THE CHICKS IN REAL LIFE
2- Did I ever tell you that I found LJ’s SSN card? Guess where it was? Exactly where it should have been. So. freaking. typical.
3- Pretty soon I will tell you all about how I met Stevie Wonder. Not even lying to you.
4- Still on the hunt for a dress for the summer wedding. A few options have arisen, and I have Aunty Jules on the case, but I think C-ana and I will head to Union Square and maybe some little shops in our quest to be super cute wedding guests this summer. I foresee more posts on this one. WARNUNG.

So, I fear turning into my mother. News flash. But really though, The Bon is freaking nuts people. One aspect that fuels the crazy fires is her super puffy brassy white hair that she thinks is blonde that has actually been gray since she was like 27. A typical Bon move is for her to pick some stranger out of a crowd and say, “Is my hair the same color as hers?” or “I’m going to go walk over by that woman, tell me if my hair is the same color as hers.” Okay, or you could look in the mirror. Yet, inevitably, its never the same color as that woman’s. And the crazy fires continue to be fueled. I think it would absolutely blow her mind if one day, it WAS the same color as that woman’s. I dont even know what she would do.

When I was preggo with Lolo, my first gray hair sprouted. I always thought that if I ever did get gray hair, which I was convinced I wouldnt because I am the genetic opposite of The Bon, I would let it grow in gracefully and become a total silver fox. I would celebrate the Salt N Peppa and rock the grey and dark with panache. However, vanity has gotten in the way of an ebony and ivory co-existence on my scalp. Here’s the deal: about 12 wirey, wiley, and wonky hairs have reared themselves over the last year and a half. And I pluck those mofos the moment I see them, which can amazingly take a while for me to spot because a few have been long as hell.

I’m not at the point where I’m going to pick up the Clairol and wash the crazy right into my hair, but I’m thinking of picking up a brewsky and drowning the sorrows that its here. I’m thirty. THREE TO THE OH. A mother of two. Wow. I like to think that that I dont look it, but then one of those effing grays start to push it real good through the rest of the others and salutes me at 6 am in the mirror. I big middle finger to my youth. So consider this a warning: dont get mad if I start to post pictures asking if my hair is the same as that womans. Its genetic people, I cant help it.

Well, here I am, home from work again today, because little Lolo has been rocked by a hard core stomach flu that kicked in over the weekend. I’m pretty tired myself, so this post is filled with incomplete thoughts. I will save you the details on the rivers of bodily fluids , but lets just say wardrobe changes are a constant. I want to try to be witty and have a funny story and make light of it, but the truth is, its so hard to watch such a tiny body struggle and feel so horrible that I’m a bit somber. Last night I got so sad; its so hard to watch this little one who is usually constantly laughing, scampering around, and being a typical rascal little brother with a huge grin on his face, all of a sudden become listless and dazed. Its seems like his hair is even less fuzzy this week, which could be a result of lots of sleep, but I miss the fuzz, I cant wait for the return of the fuzz and the 2-teef grin. Lolo is such a trooper though, reminds me a lot of his big brother. I’m a total wuss, so it must skip a generation.

And then there is LJ, who turns 6 tomorrow. WOW. I am hoping that the stomach flu bypasses him so I can still take pizzas to his classroom, make him breakfast for dinner, and he can chow his ice cream cake from Mitchells . The only worthy ice cream shop in SF. I dont know if his stomach can handle all that, flu-free, but we’ll try.

June is always an introspective month for me. My dad passed away on Father’s Day, so its always one of remembrance. Thankfully now I have the boys and Mr H to bring some joy to it. On LJ’s birthday (and I’m sure on Lolo’s next week), I sit back and think about how much has happened and changed in the last year. I’ve resolved to start writing the boys letters on their birthdays, since I have never quite pulled it together on the whole baby book front. I’m a big fan of nostalgia, reviewing past events of my personal history, and taking stock from time to time. I’d like to think that these are attempts at learning from the past, but last night, after watching Lolo sleep to make sure everything was okay and crawling back into bed, I realized that right now I’m just trying to enjoy the present.

Peeps, I am in the midst of preparing for the first birthday party of birthday month and am totes busy at work. So, I thought that I would post a great question that was posed to me: what WOULD Kirstie Alley eat? Here are some options:

a- a hamburger while hammered
b- old (but frozen so they arent stale) girl scout cookies
c- a mint chocolate chip Its’ It
d- super yum pizza from Delfina
e- Cougar fodder, a la Aniston
f- “friendly” fish tacos, a la Lohan
g- all of the above

What do you think?

So its that time of year, when PBS rocks the pledge drive. Since we are too cheap/ poor to get cable, PBS is a mainstay in the house. I promise, I’m not going to be one of those people who is all “I hear it on NPR, so that makes me credible.” At least, not in this instance. Now, at pledge drive time, they usually play crap like Suzie Orman talks (which she actually has some good money saving tips, but still, who wants to cuddle up and think about 401ks and Roth IRAs?) or the same O’Jays concert over and over. Well tonight, after the kiddos went to bed, Mr H was at band practice, I was procrastinating doing the dishes and prepping bottles for tomorrow, and turned on the tube. PBS was rocking a live Queen concert. Queen?! I just have to say, it was awesome. Here are the thoughts that come to my ever-astounded mind post show:

- How in the HELL did people not know Freddie Mercury was gay? Really .
- Under Pressure is one of the best songs of all time. Mr H and I totally have it high on the list of our karaoke repertoire. Even Vanilla Ice couldnt pass up the chance to bite it.
- Back to Freddie, that dude could wail. I mean, those teef gave him super human powers over his vocal cords. I love listening to that dude. And he danced around all sassy with half of the mike stand in hand, which brings me back to my first point.
- 6 words: we will, we will, rock you.
- I had a copy of this Queen bicycle race album insert hanging up in my bathroom for years. All my guy friends had their favorite girl, as did I (the one with her hat in her mouth). Which is yours?

Watching it actually got me thinking a lot about my job, and the people I talk to every day who are living with HIV. And how effing sad it is that one disease claimed the lives, and continues to claim the lives, of so many brilliant people. I tend to get all emotional when watching TV by myself, this season of The Bachelorette is no exception, but when they started playing “We Are the Champions” it really got me. I’ve paid my sentence, but committed no crime. So true Freddie.

And then Mr H walks in the door, laughs, and says “what the hell is going on… Queen?!” Which was the perfect response. This is why I love this man. That and his Freddie Mercury falsetto in a bar. Which is indeed, very frightening.

I’m not sure if you know this, but I’m kind of a big deal. I surely had no idea. Uncle Matt just recently hooked up this new google thing that can track blog traffic. And I just want to give a big shout out to all the readers out there. Seriously, you are my new inspiration. Croatia? What’s up! Chi-town and Motown thanks for all the love. And Deuschtland. Jah, Super Toll. I feel like the new Hasselhoff. I am just that hot. I should go get hammered and eat a burger. From the Best coast on down to Rio, I am all jacked that my sister is not the only person peeping out the goods.And I promise to try to write more often, with funny stuff, and by funny I mean hopefully more people than just me will think its funny. Thumbs way up.