Ladies, I do the research so you don't have to.

No need to thank me.

Since we all had such fun last time, I thought I'd post a few more actual profile photos from an actual online dating site.



Check out the bulge on this guy.







Dude, naked pictures come MUCH later in the relationship. Maybe even, like, never.






What girl wouldn't love to bring this charming gentleman home to meet her parents?










Dude. "Mug Shot" and "Chick Magnet" are sooooooooooooooo far from synonymous, at least in my book.








I sure hope he's going for the obvious cock joke here and not simply posing for a photo with a rooster just for the sake of it.

Personality Goes A Long Way

Introducing... A New Feature at BMB*

Is That Seriously The Best Picture You Could Find For Your Profile?

These are actual photos that I found on my favorite online dating site. And no, I'm not looking for a date.


A pic of a guy on the floor on all fours, I just... I dunno. Hey, doesn't he kinda look like Victor from Young & the Restless?



Impressive. But weird.




I might expect to see a dude in makeup on the Men Seeking Men (not that there's anything wrong with that) area of the site, but he's looking for a lady. And perhaps, makeup tips. It's fair to say that some men look really hot in makeup - Johnny Depp, for example, or Nick Rhodes circa 1984. I guess I'm most disturbed by the blue eyeshadow on a person (regardless of gender) with brown eyes.




Look at the difference between the color of his face and the color of his hands.





Dude, if your face hasn't seen a camera since Prom Night '78,
you're probably NOT gonna score.





Words fail me.




And I'd like to set this last guy up on a blind date with my ol' pal Spell Check. I'm pretty sure they haven't met.



KLIK HEAR four hiz profyl.

I probably should have linked the rest of the photos to their profiles. Sorry. I'll do that next time.



And in the interest of full disclosure, here's MY personality profile.


My Personality

Neuroticism	66
Extraversion	80
Openness To Experience	37
Agreeableness	15
Conscientiousness	40

Test Yourself Compare Yourself View Full Report Bebo, MySpace Codes and MySpace Layouts by Pulseware Survey Software

Apparently I'm neurotic and disagreeable, and I LOVE to tell other people about it.

That's me in a nutshell, pretty much.

My advice for wacky fun:

Make friends with the WalMart Customer Service Desk workers. They have the BEST stories.

Today I heard about a customer who attempted to return an empty bottle of lotion, her Reason For Return starting out as "the plastic bottle was defective and the lid came off by itself and it spilled out" and when the manager inspected the bottle and found nothing wrong with it, her story became "it must have evaporated". This same customer had once attempted to "return" a magazine. The magazine had a torn mailing address label on it.

WalMart kinda set themselves up to be challenged on returns with what used to be an unbelievably lenient return policy, but apparently too many people abused it, and now they're layin' the smack down. No, you can't return an empty bottle of lotion or a magazine that you've subscribed to. Sorry. I think I might actually kinda like the job of WalMart Customer Smackdown Agent.


And, moving on, have you ever been in a strange situation where you think of an Old Wives' Tale/Home Remedy that applies, but you can only remember part of it? Or maybe more of a Half-Remembered Hints From Heloise kind of thing?

Let me set it up -

On Wednesday I got my hair cut for the first time since Memorial Day. I hate spending $40 for a haircut, but she made my hair look pretty good, and I was happy with it. Fast forward to the end of the day when I fell asleep without washing it. Thursday morning was aerobics and I got up and put on my outfit thinking I'd take a shower when I got back. Well, instead I ran a whole bunch of errands and came home to chill for a bit until I realized it was time to go pick up the food we ordered for Market Day at Beeb's school.

I didn't really have time to take a shower and wash, dry, and attempt to style my hair, so here's where my brain thinks it remembers hearing or reading something about how when you don't have time to wash your hair and it's starting to look a lil greasy, you should sprinkle cornstarch in it.

WHY did this enter my mind as a feasible solution? Is there even the tiniest bit of truth to it? Is it a valid Heloise Hint or an Old Wives' Tale/ Home Remedy or am I combining totally unrelated remedies or something? WHY did I think this would work? I have no idea. But I convinced myself it would. I took a teaspoon and sprinkled it, a little at a time, into the part of my hair, where it looked the slimiest.

The best I can come up with as far as the chronology of my thinking process, is that I thought baby powder would work, then I realized I have no baby powder, and immediately I remembered seeing Cornstarch as a key ingredient in baby powder.

So I think that must be how my brain got from point A to point B, only the thought took place subconciously in the blink of an eye, before I had time to pass it through my "logic" filter, which, granted, isn't 100% accurate anyway. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but now, looking back, I can't believe I thought it would work.

You probably know what cornstarch does to gravy, right?

It turned the part of my hair, which maybe didn't look that bad to begin with, into a gunky white mess. Remember Bride Of Frankenstein? Yeah. And now that I'd wasted the time sprinkling baking products into my scalp, I had even less time to make myself presentable. So I ended up doing what I should have done in the first place.

I put on a damn HAT.

So today I went online to research this Questionable Home Remedy, to see if I could figure out why I even thought of it. Apparently, cornstarch works as a dry shampoo FOR DOGS. It can also be used to get serious grease like Vaseline out of your hair, but you have to WASH IT OUT. That's the part I forgot. Plus, my hair wasn't seriously greasy to begin with, so it really didn't even warrant a cornstarch treatment anyway. I'm an idiot.

Bonus: Cornstarch Tip from hairboutique.com:

Store some cornstarch in a glass jar in your bathroom. Keep in mind that cornstarch can be messy. Use as little as possible. Pour a little cornstarch into a saucer. Dip the tips of your fingers in the powder and then dab on the oily areas of your hair. Fluff gently. Use a paddle brush to remove. Don't forget to rinse the brush after use.

Cornstarch or any dry shampoo can be very messy. Remember that a little bit goes a long way so limit your use of the powder as much as possible.

I tried the fluffing thing. Didn't try a paddle brush.

Turns out, cornstarch also works well as a home remedy for JOCK ITCH. Duly noted.


And finally, in Celebrity Duets News:

Caroline has left the City.

All right, who watched it??

Curse you, Mike Boogie! And why does he feel like he has to send a billion Shout Outs (or is it Shouts Out?) to all his buddies at home like he's this big stud? Last night while we were watching the show, I sacrastically said, "Oooooh, yer a big stud, Mike Boogie!" and Tito parrotted back, "OOOH! You big suck my booger!"

I hate when it comes down to two coat-tailing players in the Final Two. I'd vote for Erika just because I don't want Boogie's wannabe ass to win.

And then it was time for (drumroll) Celebrity Duets! I think of myself as a pretty good writer, but I'm concerned that my vocabulary lacks the verbage that can adequately convey exactly how much this show SUCKS. I tuned in early enough to see the opening bit, with Lea Thompson's creepy little shoulder-shake shimmy thing and Alfonso Ribiero's goofy hand gesture that looks like he's throwing signs to Isaac from the Love Boat.

I wonder if perhaps the show's creators realized that it might be difficult for the contestants to take criticism from a 73-year-old man in a white sequined turtleneck/blazer ensemble and a slightly askew Shiny Mullet wig, so it looks like it's Little Richard's job to make absurdly vague comments to the contestants. Seriously, what would your reaction be if Little Richard told you,

"Oh mah goodness, yes you did! Yes you did! Andhewasoverhereandhewasoverthereandeverythingand,
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY!!"

Ummmm, thanks?

It's kinda like Old School Nipsey Russell plus Eddie Murphy doing the James Brown RubbaDubintheHotTubFullaWatah. Like you can catch a few words that rhyme, but most of what he says comes out like jibberish puncutated with his trademarked interjection, the vibrato "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I'm also wondering if somebody told Marie Osmond to incorporate a witty remark utilizing each contestant's name when giving her critique. I tried to make mental notes of these (I thought about writing it all down, then I thought that taking notes on Celebrity Duets just might make me the most pathetic creature alive), and the ones I remember are "Hal to the Chief", and "They Love Lucy". She made some ridiculous little quip for everybody. It was effin weak. Give it up, Marie.

David Foster is clearly the designated badass of the three. And if you're not a badass compared to Marie Osmond and Little Richard, well, then you're a total fucking pussy.

At Press Time, the Celebrity Duets website hadn't been updated (hmmmmmmmmmmmmm...), so here's your recap. I'd give a spoiler alert, but I don't think I can really spoil THIS show. Edit - read the Official Recap here. Mine's funnier.

Cutiepoo Hal Sparks sang "I Wanna Know What Love Is" with Wynonna, who appeared to be wrapped in a large rug. And then he dry humped her on the stage. Think I'm kidding?

Lucy Lawless sang "Whenever I call you Friend" with Kenny Loggins, and she messed up the words. It was funny. Has Kenny Loggins aged a day since Footloose? He has a bit of a Dick Clark School of Self-Preservation thing going on. Maybe he keeps his head in a jar of formaldehyde and screws it on before he leaves the house in the morning. Hey, it's just a theory.

Alfonso sang "On The Wings Of Love" with Jeffrey Osborn, and he wasn't bad, but it didn't really wow me. And Jeffrey sported an expression that communicated a pure sense of "What the EFF am I doing here??"

Cheech sang "Been There" with Clint Black, and it wasn't bad either, but I don't think they'll be touring together anytime soon. After their song, Host Wayne Brady asked "Hey Clint, how is singing with Cheech different from singing with your wife, Lisa Hartman Black?" Clint said something about how his wife doesn't wear a pink tutu, and I thought to myself, somebody really should have rethought the whole "LIVE" aspect of the show.

I'm still not 100% sure that I'm not dreaming the whole thing.

Lea Thompson, in a stretchy, glittery microminidress with a silver chain belt slung low on her 12-year-old-boy hips, sang "Heaven is a Place On Earth" with Belinda Carlyle. Belinda, compared to Lea, looked like like she'd just come from her part-time job at Ann Taylor. Belinda, you're beautiful, you don't have to wear a tea-length black knit dress. The dress wasn't ugly or unflattering, it just really seemed an odd choice for this venue. Lea throws an extra syllable into certain words, like the word Heaven. It comes out like Heh-Oven. She does that Cher-throaty thing (think "If I Could Turn Back Tah-hah-yum") and I guess she thinks it sounds all Rock N Roll or something, but it doesn't. Someone really should tell her.

I can't decide if I dislike Lea Thompson or Carly Patterson more. Carly sang "I'm So Excited" with One of the Pointer Sisters. It was every bit as horrible as you can imagine, if for some reason you wanted to imagine it. I kinda want to pull Carly aside and say "Girl, what are ya thinkin?" I'll make you a deal, Carly. When you get booted off the show, I'll sing "I'm So Excited" just for you. K?

Jai sang "Back at One" with Bryan McKnight and brought the house down. He is GOOD! The best on the show, by a landslide. If Jai recorded a CD, I'd buy it. Ok, maybe not buy, but I'd certainly look online for a free download.

TUNE IN TONIGHT for the LIVE Results Show!

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

MUST-SEE TV!

Tonight is BIG BROTHER! And CELEBRITY DUETS!!! And the best part is that they're not on at the same time so the flow of my evening won't be messed up!

Big Brother FINALLY got interesting when Janelle's brain and spinal cord finally made contact and she evicted WILL! YAY!! Janelle and Erika compared notes and figured out that the boys had been promising them both the same things, so hopefully they'll stick together and get rid of the worthless leech, Boogie. Tonight is part two of the last HOH competition (Erika won the first part), LIVE. Should be good. If it comes down to Erika and Janelle in the end, I think I'd have to vote for Janelle. Personally, I wish there was a 24/7 live feed to the Jury House. That's where the real fun is.

And then, at 9/8 central is CELEBRITY DUETS! I'm all tingly with anticipation! If you missed it last week, I highly recommend you devote an hour of your time to this show before someone at Fox actually watches it and yanks the plug. I don't even want it to get good, I actually want it to contiune to suck, perhaps even spiral downward. Is that wrong?


And in a few weeks - DANCING WITH THE STARS!
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!

In case you haven't seen the lineup:

Tucker Carlson: Bowtie-wearing MSNBC News Anchor

Joey Lawrence: sportin' the Howie Mandel 'do. He goes by Joseph now, kinda like how Debbie Gibson became Deborah Gibson. Whatever. WHOA, Blossom! (Did anybody else LOVE that show??)

Mario Lopez: SLATER, Greg Louganis, total hottie

Emmitt Smith: Football LEGEND. (What, you couldn't get Michael Irvin?)

Vivica A. Fox: Gorgeous actress, from Kill Bill

Harry Hamlin: From L.A. Law, Former Sexiest man Alive, married to Lisa Rinna (the ORIGINAL and best Billie Reed)

and GET THIS - Jerry Springer.

Former Mayor of Cincinnati who tried to run for Governor of Ohio but foolishly paid a hooker with a check, talk show icon (if you can call his show a "Talk" show), yes, THAT Jerry Springer. Won't that be sumthin?

and these people too:

Monique Coleman (Actress), Sara Evans (Singer), Willa Ford (Singer), and Shanna Moakler (Beauty Queen/Actress)


I want my Bad TV!


Here's some other stuff that's goin' on -

I'b sick. I habba code.

Tito has begun referring to himself in the third person. It's so annoying.
Example: I'll say, Hey Tito, c'mon, let's go try on the potty!
And he'll say, Tito no wanna go potty.

Tito made it through Day One of preschool without a "Code 2". He went to the potty and tried when everyone else went, but nothing came out.

Y'know, I just wanna apologize for all the Potty Talk in this blog. I really should talk more about knitting. The Baby Kimono is currently blocking and awaiting seams. There ya go. Minimal Knitting Content. Oh! And I got a swift!

Beebie is running for Student Council. She ran and lost last year, and she handled it gracefully, so I'm proud of her for running again.

Pie had his photo taken for a Fundraising Brochure for the facility that provides his Aquatherapy. The photographer thought he was a hoot. I can't wait to see how the pics turn out.

R ran over a stump while he was cutting the grass and killed the lawnmower. So we bought our third mower in as many years.

I'm still going to aerobics. Bellydancing starts on the 18th.

That's about it. But before I go, More Searches that lead to my blog:

I think I may just compile them all onto one page.

Mariska Hargitay in Thong Panties.
Fox2 News City Knits
Bra Whisperer.

Whining and Dining with the Inlaws

This was just a kinda weird weekend.

Sunday I took my famous white chocolate peppermint fudge out to Chez Inlaw. We arrived at about lunchtime and MIL informed us of their "plans" - by "plans" I mean plans that are really more ideas than plans, and it is clearly communicated to us that we have the ability to veto these plans for whatever reason, but R and I both know that if we say no to these plans, there's probably not a backup "plan" in place, which means we'll sit around awkwardly, indefinitely. Oh, and somehow, the Aldis managed to weasel out of making an appearance, so unfortunately I didn't have them there to entertain me.

These were the "plans":


An Open House at a home still under construction. Complimentary Wine and Cheese.

An Artist's Studio Sale. An artist who specializes in Pottery.

And an Art Opening. With More Wine and Cheese.


No, you didn't skip over the "fun for the kids" part. There WAS no fun for the kids part. If anything, the kids were totally miserable because they have to behave in a manner that is completely unreasonable to expect little kid to behave. But this is how they've always operated, according to R. FIL decides what he wants to do. And everybody else is along for the ride, like it or not. And ya better act like ya like it.

What's that you say, eight-year-old R? You want to be on a baseball team this summer? Sorry, Dad wants to go sailing. Nobody ever got to do anything that conflicted with anything FIL wanted to do. Especially R, the youngest of three.

Now, all of the aforementioned "planned" events are things I actually would have enjoyed if R and I were Sans Apes, but obviously we weren't, and they knew this, so I was kinda surprised that this is what they thought would sufficiently entertain two preschool-age boys. Beeb was cool, Beeb could handle it, but HELLO! Breakable stuff!

It was just not an enjoyable experience.

FIL kept talking about how much he liked everything, and how wuuuuhnderful everything was. He told us about the social significance of everyone he'd talked to (he is the KING of namedropping), and he stayed and talked to these people while R and I tag-teamed it trying to keep the boys from destroying this million-dollar home. I rubbed my eyes a lot so I could look Visably Frazzled, hoping it would somehow register in his mind that wrangling preschoolers at a Social Event Obviously Not Intended For Children is not how I'd like to spend a Sunday Afternoon, but he was too focused on the shmoozing to notice the kids running about like, well, Apes.

So finally MIL got the message and we left. FIL kept asking if we saw the various features of the house, or if we tried this wine with that cheese, and I wearily said, well, no, I guess we musta missed that... we were kinda busy with the kids... to which he replied, "Well, they had grapes at the table, didn't you see they had grapes? Don't your kids like grapes?"

Grapes! My God, yes! Grapes are the answer!

I should have said that grapes give the kids really bad diarrhea, and then casually mentioned that they'd been eating grapes by the handful for about the last half hour, while he was busy working the room.

Oh, next was The Artist's Studio Sale. Whose genius idea was it to take the kids to this? One guess. R took the boys to an area where they could run around outside, but even that got boring for them after a while. I went with Beeb and MIL and FIL to see the Artist's Workshop. FIL insisted that Beeb and I meet The Artist. That's a really big deal to him.

So he introduced us to The Artist, and I, wanting to appear something other than bored and frustrated out of my mind, asked the artist a question. I asked her, "So, when you begin, do you have a vision of what it's going to look like at the end (at this point in the sentence, she looked at me strangely, so I continued talking) or do you just, kinda, start working and see where the piece wants to go?" I was trying to sound like an artist, or at least like someone who geniunely wants to know the answer to the question. The Artist stared at me like I was speaking some bizarre dialect she'd never heard before, then she sighed,

"Well. I cover all that in my Artist's Statement, over there..." (pointing to a small, typed page in a frame on the wall)

Oh. Sorry.

And then, when FIL had had enough asskissing bullshit (or, more likely, when the people there weren't paying enough attention to him anymore), it was time to go. On the way home he talked about how nice and down-to-earth The Artist and her Husband are, so much so that you'd never even know how much money they have. He talked the whole way home -

"And The Artist is so kind to speak to people and answer their questions." (Um, FIL, didn't you notice how smugly the bitch answered my question? Guess not.) "Wow, I really enjoyed that. Didn't you all enjoy that? Wasn't that great?"

Kill me. Kill me now.

We now had an hour to kill before the Art Opening at the Clubhouse began. This was the event that was The One He Was Most Excited About. This one was actually pretty cool. The artwork was made with handmade pressed paper - really unique and quite beautiful - but hard to fully appreciate when chasing the boys, trying to make sure they're not even thinking about touching something. By this time, we'd been visiting with The Inlaws for four hours and I had had more than enough.

MIL and FIL got some wine and cheese and sat down with some of their friends. My kids are NOT going to sit down at a table with a bunch of strangers and behave themselves. They're just not, and I think it's a little ridiculous to expect that of them. So R and I grabbed some fruit and cheese and some bottled water for The Apes and took them outside, where they could be, y'know, KIDS.

FIL came out and invited us in to meet Another Artist. This artist was actually supercool. Her name was Victoria and she was energetic, fun, and especially sweet to Beeb when Beeb asked questions.

Then Tito came in and flopped down in the middle of the floor. I tried to quietly take his hand and get him to stand up, and he let out either a whiney shriek or a shrieking whine, I'm not sure.

All right, I said. TIME TO GO.

"Oh, no, he's all right..."

Said the man who had not paid thirty seconds' worth of attention to these children all day to the woman who had thoroughly exhausted herself while trying to ensure that these children don't ruin FIL's day with Unacceptable Behavior.

I felt like he was upset with me for scolding Tito, but what if I'd left him in the middle of the floor and not said anything? That would have been wrong too, right? I never know whether scolding the kids or not scolding them is the better idea. It's the most frustrating thing about FIL - the only thing about him that you can predict with 100% accuracy is that anything you do, in any given situation, will be The Wrong Thing To Do. Any choice you make is wrong. And with his Divinely-Bestowed Rosetta Stone of Hindsight, he has no qualms about telling you what you should have done instead.

I don't think he was happy about us leaving so abruptly, but I didn't care. I was tired, R was tired, the kids were tired and BORED. As I said, it wasn't so much that I didn't care for the events, and I wasn't angry or anything, I just could not believe the complete lack of consideration FIL had given to the fact that I would have to be responsible for the behavior of two small children at all of these grown-up events - events that I, in my everyday life, intentionally avoid taking the kids to. It was all just totally surreal to me.

Weren't these people ever parents??

Still More Google Searches:

Aren't you glad I share these with you?

Poop Pants at WalMart On Purpose.
Megan Mullally Bra Size.
And, believe it or not, PUFFINGER.

I don't even want to know what that individual was hoping to find.

Speaking of Poop Pants (and I usually am), we have an update on the potty situation.

Yesterday, Tito, after about 40 minutes of sitting there, managed to pee on the potty! We were elated! Then this morning, right after waking up, I put him on the potty, waited about 40 minutes, and out popped a little plunker! I've gone pretty much cold turkey. He's in panties when we're at home, and if we go out someplace, he wears panties with a Pull-up over them.

Meanwhile, the preschool director called to say that they've come up with a solution that will allow him to go to preschool after all. The thing is, and I understand this, they're not equipped with changing facilities in the preschool room. I can send him in a pull-up, and they can help him go potty when the class goes, but if he poops, I have to go to the school to change it myself. Sounds a little crazy, but whatever, I'll play by whatever rules they set.

I just thought it was nuts that if he didn't figure out the potty thing, he wouldn't be allowed to go to school, since he didn't even want to go to school anyway and keeping him home with me would be giving him exactly what he wanted. This way hopefully he'll see the other kids doing it and he'll want to do it too. Or else it will fail miserably and I'll be up there changing poop so often I'll just say forget it. I guess we'll see.

Tomorrow we're going to Chez Inlaw. I've been asked to make the White Chocolate Peppermint Fudge that I took to Aunt Drama's last weekend, thinking MIL and FIL would be there and they weren't. Hope I have enough butter. Maybe I should buy a cow. Then R wouldn't have to mow.

And I'm currently knitting a baby kimono (from Mason-Dixon Knitting) for a shower I'm going to next Saturday. Hopefully I won't screw up on the finishing, as is my tendency. I also want to get some Lamb's Pride Bulky for a clutch purse I saw in One-Skein. And still my sock yarn sits in my basket, mocking me.

"Chicken!!! You can't make a sock! You're a crappy knitter! BRAWWWWWWWWWWWK BRAWK BRAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWK!!!"

"No, I probably could make a sock, I just know I'll probably finish one and then I'll never even start the second one, cuz something will come up like a baby shower or something."

"BRAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWKK!"

"Ok, FINE! As soon as I'm done with the baby kimono I'll try a sock. Happy??"

"Oh, you're so fulla crap..."

Dang. My sock yarn sees right through me.

What else do I talk about here?

So if I'm not talking about Poofingers, Pottytraining, FIL or Knitting (which I actually do, despite the lack of evidence, you're just going to have to trust me on this), I'm talking about reality shows.

First of all, how STOOPID is Janelle to not put up Mike and Will when she had the chance? Grrrrrrrrr.

Not half as fookin stoopid as whoever came up with the idea of Celebrity Duets.

Oh, and look carefully for a funny typo or two on the website (the below paragraph copy/pasted directly from Fox.com):


* DON'T MISS A SPECIAL ENCORE TONIGHT 8/7c! *

Lucy Lawless, Cheech Marin, Carly Patterson, Alfonso Ribeiro, Jai Rodriguez, Hal Sparks and Lea Thompson are the remaining sever celebrities who will compete on CELEBRITY DUETS. Beginning Thursday, September 7, you can catch the live performace show at 9/8c. Then tune in each Friday at 9/8c to see the results!


Yeah, didja catch it? SEVER celebrities. If you ask me, I think Fox needs to Sever their ties to this show. Oh, and they misspelled Performance too, perhaps because whomever has the legal rights to the word Performance didn't want THIS show associated with it.


Did anybody else see it, or did I dream it? It was LIVE, starting at 10pm, which seemed really late for a live show (note from R: it was pre-empted by the Rams game. Sorry, I didn't realize there was a Rams game last night...and apparently neither did the Rams). And if the caliber of celebrities isn't enough to inspire you to set your Tivo, the celebrity judges are David Foster, Marie Osmond, and Little Richard.

It was seriously like the most ridiculous, ill-conceived trainwreck of a show I've ever seen. And I've watched SHIT, y'all. Shit that even flies won't swarm around. Case in point - Remember the Fox show Unanimous? Of course you don't. Nobody watched it. But I watched it. And it SUCKED. SUCKED HARD. At least Skating With Celebrities was unintentionally hilarious.

The best part of Celebrity Duets, in my opinion, (other than Lea Thompson's amusingly HORRIFIC outfits) was the camera panning the audience to show My Beloved Snarkmistress KATHY GRIFFIN!!! I can't even wait to hear what visciousness she'll unleash regarding this utterly craptacular gathering of dubious celebrities.

When you read the celebrity/singer pairings and the songs they performed, it totally sounds like a really bad dream, or even a hallucination. For example, Cheech Marin sang "Baby, I Love Your Way" with Peter Frampton. I think I may have actually dreamed that exact scenario once, when I was on painkillers and antibiotics for a kidney infection. Said kidney infection, incidentally, was shorter in duration and considerably less painful than this show.

I turned the show on just in time to see a blonde Lucy Lawless (who is best-known to most people as Xena: Warrior Princess) singing "Time, Love and Tenderness" with Michael Bolton.
See?? Doesn't it sound like I'm making this shit up? I swear to God I'm not.

Olympic Gold Medal-winning Gymnast Carly Patterson sang "Somewhere Out There" (the Fievel Mousekewitz song) with James Ingram. Carly, Carly, Carly. Honey. I appreciate... your willingness to... bahahahahahahahahaha!!! How does Paula Abdul always think of something nice to say, and then say it with a straight face? I sure the fuck can't.

Did I really need to hear Alfonso Ribiero beg me not to let the sun go down on him? Did that enhance my life in any way? Um, NO.

Jai Rodriguez sang with Gladys Knight, and was by far my favorite performance of the night. How old is Jai? He totally had a vintage Ricky Martin* thing going. Jai's probably too young to remember Menudo on ABC. And just as a side note, isn't actual Mexican menudo (the food), like cow intestines or something? I remember when I first moved to San Antonio, I kept thinking that the singing group Menudo was coming to every single Mexican restaurant in the city.

*Please don't snark on me like I'm slamming Latinos, K? I'm NOT. I meant it as a compliment. Jai was GOOD. Ricky is GOOD. I've just been wondering why they named the band Menudo ever since I found out what Menudo actually is.

Hal Sparks (who is SO cute, btw) sang "Tracks of My Tears" with Smokey Robinson, and was surprisingly good too.

Lea Thompson looked like Tina Fey dressed as a truckstop hooker and sang like a really bad Cher impersonator. The Esteemed Judges complimented her on "Singing Harmony" with Randy Travis. I kinda thought it was just a diplomatic way of telling her she wasn't singing the same notes as he was.

Chris Jericho, who's apparently a famous wrestler, sang with LeeAnn Womack some song I've never heard before.

So how the show works (a verb I use loosely in this context) is that each Semi-Famous For Something Other Than Singing celebrity pairs with two different Actually Famous For Singing celebrities. So at 11pm, they did another whole round of songs. LIVE.

The next time around, Lea sang a Frank Sinatra song with Michael Bolton, Carly Patterson sang a LeeAnn Womack song with LeeAnn Womack (do you think the song choice of "I Hope You Dance" kinda implies "I hope you DON'T SING?"), Alfonso Ribiero sang "Ya Mo Be There" with James Imgram (I don't know what that song actually means, but I know it's one of my least favorite songs of all time), and then, mercifully, I fell asleep.

So yes, I'll be watching the Encore episode tonight.
And I'm totally taping it next week.

More Tales of Pottytraining Efforts.

So How Do You Top Fried Pubes and Brafondling?
Ya can't. Ya just can't.

I appreciate the good folks who offered other possible explanations for the hair in my fries, such as arm hair, chest hair, beard hair, eyebrow hair, ear hair, and hair from other continents (which kinda snarked me the wrong way a little, as I'd never even mentioned the color of the hair because I didn't even wanna go there, but if you're interested, it was very light brown/blonde), and I understand that my story boggles the imagination, and perhaps you don't want to believe it, but BELIEVE IT, y'all. It was a pube, root still attached. If you'd seen it, I promise you, you'd agree.

I thought about asking R to submit samples of his arm hair, chest hair and pubic hair for the purpose of illustrating my point in a photograph. Understandably, he was uncomfortable with that, but I did perform a thorough, scientific comparison of his arm hair (too soft and too light), chest hair (too long), his eyebrow hair (too straight) and his pubes, and let's just say that I still stand firm behind my initial allegation.

So how did today go? Let me set it up a little.

Monday, I called and left a message with the boys' school informing them that we'd need to find out about options for the Non-Potty Trained. Yesterday, they called me to, very politely, let me know that there IS no option for the Non-Potty Trained at his age.

So I told little Tito that if he doesn't go potty potty, he can't go to school with Pie and his other friends. And what did he say?

"I no wanna go school. I stay home wiff you, Mommy.
YOU my friend."

Heart melting. Tears welling.

So I tell R this story and he says that I'm not helping because I want to keep T a baby forever - totally not true, hello, ya think I love changing dipes all day? So R proposes that on his day off (today) we put the boy in panties and just let him figure out that wet pants really suck and that going to the potty prevents wet pants. Yeah, cuz 3 1/2-year-olds are big on LOGIC.

I agree that something needs to be done. We've done all we can think of to help him. So I'm on board. We won't go anywhere, won't do anything but sit around and wait for T to go potty and have a big freakin party when he does. Hell, I'll take him to Chuck E. Cheese, a movie, the candy store, Donut Palace, I'd buy him a pony for cryin out loud - anything he wants if just once he'd pee on the damn potty.

The day started off all right, T sat on the potty for a good thirty minutes, and not one drop came out into the toilet. Clearly he's got some element of bladder control. In all the cumulative time he's sat on the potty, you'd think that he'd eventually have peed in it by accident, but he's never let one stray drop land where it belongs.

So after he sat there for what seemed a sufficient amount of time, R let him get up and we put panties on him with a Pull-Up over it. Moments later, he comes in to tell us he's wet. Too bad, says R. Maybe if you feel what wet pants feel like, you'll remember to pee in the potty instead of your pants.

T walks away like, whatever, and after a few minutes returns to the room. He is preceded by the undeniable stench of poo. Again, R insists that he sit in it for a while.

And R goes back to playing the XboxGame he was playing last night until 3am. The Xbox is in our bedroom. Not sure if I've ever mentioned that before.

Bottom (pun?) line is that by noon we were on pair #4. R played Xbox all day. Oh, and he did leave to go get the oil changed in the car. But I was the one with poop under my fingernails after cleaning up the all of the dirty panties. Great plan, eh? Yeah. Great for YOU.

It's raining, and I'm stuck in the house, bored shitless.

Ha, shitless. Don't I wish.

I offered to take Pie to his aquatherapy session. Usually R takes him, but I was really dying to get out of the house. R said fine. I was secretly wishing that I'd fed Tito a big vat of chili before I left, but obviously it was too late for that, so instead I just hoped for a bit of vengance in the form of poopy pants. Or maybe vomit.

It would serve R right if he had to actually put down the Xbox controller and hose the boy off the moment after I left. I had even thought of some extra errands to run while I was out, just to better my chances of bodily-function-related drama. Oh, how I relish poetic justice!

About ten minutes after P and I arrived at the pool, my cell phone rang.

Tito POOPED.

ON

THE

POTTY.

Remind me not to question R's methods.

So here's what our bathroom looks like now, for our Potty Party:

Courtesy of The Beeb.

But he still hasn't peed on the potty. Weird, huh?

Oh, and P.S. - I have to say that, whatever Brafondling Ray did to it, my bra feels great today. Maybe Ray's like "The Bra Whisperer". Ya think?

Yes, I washed it!

The Uneventful becomes Eventful

What I like about blogging is that it pretty much eliminates the banality from my life. Or else maybe it highlights what a dork I am, I'm not sure.

To clarify, today was a pretty mundane Tuesday. I got up, went to aerobics, took the boys to Best Buy, Lion's Choice and WalMart, got home and came in, just now, to the 'puter room to write about it.

But in the world of Blogdom, I can write about all the silly little things that went through my mind at various points in the day where I couldn't say them out loud without looking like a freak. I file these moments away, in my mental Rolodex, for blogging purposes. I intentionally pay closer attention to details in my everyday life so that I can paint vivid pictures for whomever happens upon this silly little blog. I'm always tuned in, in case something blogworthy happens. My life is so much less boring (to me, anyway) since I started blogging about it for the amusement of others.

This morning at aerobics, when I finally resigned myself to the fact that no matter how hard I try, my forehead just will NOT touch my knee, what movie line do you think kept running through my head?

"You're out of shape, Al. I'll kick your arse."

Weird Science.

Then I went to pick the boys up from the Amazon babysitter, who is about six feet tall and has long curly brown hair and a big poodly poof of bangs that are strangely parted to one side. She also looks like she swallowed a beach ball. She's not pregnant. And every time I walk by the room, she's sitting spread eagle in a rocking chair, overseeing the children's shenanigans. I try not to meet her gaze, as I think I've noticed a lazy-eye kinda situation. And she talks like she's got a mouth full of marbles.

Next, we went and picked up the long-awaited DVD compilation of Season Three of Arrested Development at Best Buy. I can't even wait for R to get home so we can tear into that. I've been in such withdrawal.

Hmmm... oh yeah, next we went to Lion's Choice. I didn't really want to get out of the car, as I was fresh out of aerobics class and smelling like a wet dog wearing a sweater made of attic-stored estate sale acrylic, but the boys really wanted to go inside to eat. So we did.

Every time I try to do something nice or give the kids a special treat, within about 5 minutes, I wish I hadn't. The boys began fighting about where we should sit. Pie wanted to sit in the tall chairs by the window. T wanted to sit in a booth. Usually, what happens when they can't agree is that MOM figures out a solution in which NEITHER of them gets what he wants.

We sat at a table away from the windows. Then Pie refused to eat. Fine, I said, don't eat. He pouted and whined while T and I ate, and I ignored him. Eventually he ate, but I had to warn him that Mommy will not take them out to lunch again if this is how he is going to behave.

I then looked down at my tray and saw something I never imagined I'd encounter in my lifetime. Something that will almost certainly ensure that I will never eat another French Fry again. Could such a thing exist in this universe? I mean, I love french fries. Seriously, just a quick glance at my ass will prove it.

Kids, there was a hair on my french fry.
And not just any kind of hair.
One of those short and curly ones.

I should have complained, I know, but I just could not bring myself to walk to the counter and explain to the cashier dude, in front of all of the other customers, that I had just found a f*ckin PUBE in my fries. For some reason, I didn't think he'd believe me. I was afraid I'd start laughing and then he'd think I was a sick enough psycho that I'd have put it there myself just to get a free bag of fries.

Ok, for the record, I'm frugal - but NOT to the point where I'd nonchalantly stick my hand down my stretchy pants to my landing strip, pluck out a couple and stealthily sprinkle them on my plate in order to avoid paying for my meal.

Plus, I didn't exactly feel like explaining to the boys why I was leaving the two of them at the table to get back in the line and give the fries back ("Why, Mommy? What's wrong with them? What's a Pubic Hair???" Isn't THAT all I effin need...).

I threw them away, and tried to get the visual out of my head so I wouldn't puke. I am extremely confident that I will never eat another french fry.

Hey, wanna know why I'll never eat another Krispy Kreme Donut as long as I live? It's not as nasty a story. I went inside one time (note to self: stick to the drive-thru) and I walked right by the machine that glazes the donuts and I got so grossed out, I went in the bathroom and threw up. I haven't eaten one since.

Next, as if I hadn't been violated enough for one day, I went to WalMart. I found a bra in my size and figured I'd buy myself another day without having to do laundry (a little gift from me to me).

I should point out that I'm not the girl who can wear the lil bitty bras that come in cute styles and colors. No, I'm a DD (which I hope is the ONLY thing I have in common with Jessica Simpson), so I have to buy these big ol' contraptions that you can tote a gallon of milk in (ok, not really) that come in Black, White, Beige, and, if you're lucky, Pink.

Now, it's a bit difficult to be discreet when buying a gigantic bra with 4 hooks across the back, even under the best of circumstances. Cashier Ray announces to me (and everyone in the line) that he can't find the bar code on this bra. Only he pronounced it "Brahr".

So Ray the cashier (who's about 70 if he's a day and looks like he could be Cliff Claven's Dad) starts poking and twisting and totally having a relationship with my bra, searching for the bar code. Flipping it over, flipping it back, holding it up. Dude. It's right here on the tag, I showed him.

Here. Jeez. Freaky bra-fondler. Ugh.

I'm pretty sure I heard snickering as I walked away, mortified.

Now, don't Amazon Babysitter, Pube Fry and Ray the WalMart Bra Fondler make my day sound a lot more interesting than "Aerobics, Best Buy, Lunch and WalMart"?

It's the miracle of blogging.