Relatives and sex toys should never ever come up in the same conversation

In the infancy of my 21st year, some friends and I went to New York for our Spring Break.

I have family there who, at the time, lived on the upper west side. Super swank. And they voluntarily allowed us to stay with them. In fact they encouraged it. What were they thinking?

Each night, we'd all have dinner together and they would send the four of us out the door with subway tokens and a map.

"Have fun girls! Be back before dawn...if you feel like it."

We would scan the paper for any good bands playing and haul our gussied up selves to see them.

Naturally we had to hit CBGB's (RIP) and we also ended up at several other places I couldn't find on a map today if I tried. We made friends wherever we went and one night ended up at some dive on Avenue A smoking pot with some whacked out locals. That night I think we laid our collective heads on our pillows just as the sun woke up.

It was a fantastic time. My Aunt and Uncle took such good care of us and we all said a teary goodbye as the vacation ended.

I spoke with my Aunt when I got home and thanked her again for showing us such wonderful hospitality. She said that we forgot a few things at their apartment and she would be sending them to me shortly.

A couple weeks later the package arrived.

Someone left a shirt or something. Maybe there was a tube of mascara in there. My Aunt had also sent me a kick ass messenger bag and t-shirt she thought I would like (and she was right).

I had 7 roommates at the time. We lived in this enormous house and, believe it or not, we all had our own bedrooms. Most everyone was hanging out in the living room the day I got the package so they all watched me open it.

I was so excited about the cool shirt and new bag that I failed to notice the looks of horror and shock slowly taking over my roommates' faces.

I looked up and someone said, "So...your Aunt's pretty laid back, eh?"

"What do you mean?"

Then I looked down at the box.

And saw it.

There, resting gently in a sea of bubble wrap was an unwrapped, presumably used vibrator.

My first thought was that someone in our traveling gaggle had left it there, but who? No one fessed up.

My second and way more disturbing thought was that my Aunt sent it to me as a gift.

I didn't know which was worse: My Aunt handling my friend's vibrator or her thinking of me while cleaning out her stash (like I said, it wasn't packaged or wrapped as if it were new--it already had batteries in it!). Did she think I needed it?

I knew it wasn't mine. I would have said so right away, and I certainly wouldn't have left it at my Aunt's house. Come to think of it, I would not have brought it on (that kind of) vacation at all.

A few days later my Aunt called to make sure the package arrived, and I was terrified she would bring up the giant phallic elephant in the room.

She didn't.

I saw her two summers ago at my cousin's wedding and we email back and forth now and again. I really really want to ask her about it now that more than a decade has passed since the incident.

How exactly would one bring this type of subject up?

You say it's your birthday...

Well, it's my birthday too, yeah.

No, really. It is.

I'm 35 now. Wheeee!

I was going to try and post something deep and introspective but let's face it. I'm not all that deep and introspection is for navel gazing emo boys.

Instead I will share the story of two people from my past who share my same day of birth. One a year younger and one a year older.

First the younger, Mindy (not her real name).

I met Mindy my sophomore year in high school. I don't know how we started hanging out, but it probably had something to do with the fact that we both liked cigarettes, booze and writing (awful awful) poetry.

We thought ourselves deep. No one could possibly understand the depth of our deepness. Oh no.

Sometimes we would meet at the library to study. Studying consisted of us walking down to the 7-11 to buy a Big Gulp of Pepsi to mix with our pilfered whiskey and smoking as many cigarettes as we could suck down.

Mindy was by far the bigger JD which is really saying something because I was no Pollyanna myself. I just never got caught.

Which brings us to our story.

One day Mindy and I were hanging with another acquaintance, Sheila. Sheila was kind of a puppy dog. Didn't really have an opinion about anything and was just happy to be part of the team. Present day, she's probably got a comfortable desk job at Human Resources somewhere.

She was a nice girl. So nice that she gave Mindy and I a bottle of peppermint schnapps she stole from her parents' liquor cabinet to prove...I don't know what she was trying to prove. I do know we happily accepted it and stashed it for later. Mindy and I were going to the football game that night.

I'm not sure why. Maybe we just needed to get out of the house. Maybe there was a boy involved. Doesn't matter. We were going and we were planning on putting away at least some of that bottle beforehand.

Cut to the second quarter of the game. Mindy's leaning on me and not making any sense. As "hardcore" as we thought we were, we really didn't drink much of that bottle. Peppermint schnapps is gross. I didn't want to be drunk that badly.

Unbeknownst to me, Mindy was on some psychiatric medication that...you guessed it...you shouldn't drink with. Hey now! That would have been some useful information. Add to that Mindy drank WAY more than I did.

So, I'm literally holding Mindy up in the stands when I catch the eye of someone who was also in the school play with me at the time. I think he saw the fear in my eyes, and helped me drag her out of there.

I don't know why I thought we could get out of there without attracting the attention of anyone, but 5 minutes later an ambulance was there. It was bad.

I didn't hang out with Mindy much more after that. I'm pretty sure that set a precedent in my mind for my distaste of sloppy drunks. Hold your liquor people. And for the love, learn how to mix your booze and drugs properly. Sheesh.

My other birthday pal was a boy named Jack (again, not his real name). He was a year older than me and went to a different high school.

Jack was "arty" and VERY into himself. I'm embarrassed that I made out with him. He probably pretended he was kissing himself.

After a few weeks of phone calls and a train ride into the city, I decided he was just a little too pouty and flouncy for my taste. But that didn't stop him from writing me letters.

One letter contained pictures he had taken of himself. In women's clothing.

Now, that's all fine and good for him. Kudos to him for being so self aware at 17 to know what he's into.

To my 16 year old self though, this was just way too much.

I wish I still had those pictures. I threw them away for fear my fundie parents would find them and never let me leave the house again.

By the by, I also share a birthday with Kate Moss, Edgar Allan Poe and Janis Joplin.

What is it with me and these tragic figures?

Want to do a good deed?

Who doesn't need to shore up their karma account?


Audrey's preschool is having a fundraiser. We get 40% of proceeds until January 28th.


Go to http://www.greenraising.com/ and pick A Child's View Cooperative Preschool-IL from the drop down menu at the top right hand corner of the website.

Then buy stuff!


It's good for the environment stuff and it helps out our small parent-run preschool.

When I was looking for a preschool for my girls I had a hard time finding one that wasn't affiliated with a church. Just about every place in town was. When I found A Child's View I was ecstatic. Just the godless liberal haven I was searching for.

Our budget is slim and fundraisers are the only way we can keep chugging along. I'm on the parent board so I know how important these fundraisers are to keep the doors open and the teachers paid (trust me, they work for close to nothing, but love the school and the kids enough to do it anyway).

Now go get to shopping!

If you do buy something, let me know in the comments section so I can lavish you with virtual sloppy kisses and inappropriate touching.

Thanks!

Groundhog Day

You've seen it, right? My life is starting to feel like that movie.

First they cancelled school on Wednesday, then Thursday, then today. And we already had Monday off.

I'm getting a leetle bit stir crazy being in the house this long.

We have been playing the Wii a LOT. The girls' favorite thing to do (beside Mario Party) is make Miis. We have like 4,000 of them now. Mina's have names like Puffy and Sprinkles and Cutie. Audrey can't spell yet so all of hers are named xczvm,k;l and bljpx;l. I think that's Czech, but I could be wrong.

The music has penetrated my soul at this point. The girls are starting to make up words to it.

I like those eyes no

make them bigger pleeeeeease

I don't like her hair no

make it lighter theeerrreee

stop kicking me in the head MOM!

Get off of me! I'm telling!

I'm thirsty Mom, please get us some juice

when is lunch

I am starved

Get your foot off of me

I am going to scream

She needs bigger eyebrows

and some freckles

make her short....

You get the gist.

Soon it's going to be like another movie around here.

The Shining.

SNOW DAY!

I'm digging it.

hahahahahaha...whoo boy. The jokes just don't stop around here.

My favorite part of a snow day is when the snow plow comes down my street and puts a a two foot snow drift at the end of the driveway--the driveway I just shovelled.

Good times.

I hear we're supposed to get more tonight in addition to painful subzero wind chill factors.

As I was scooping out the artic shelf at the end of my driveway, I noticed that my neighbor hadn't touched his yet.

Normally this particular neighbor has his shit down to the pavement before I've finished my first cup of coffee.

He's well past retirement age, but in fantastic shape. I see him riding his bike all over the neighborhood all the time and once in the pouring rain. He may be old, but I guarantee he's no slouch.

What does he know that I don't?

I'm not touching the driveway until tomorrow even if the wind fucks up all my hard work. I don't plan on going anywhere until I absolutely have to.

I'm off to go make the requisite snow day hot chocolate and get a fire going in the fireplace.

New and Improved

Hey look! Didya' see it? My new header there?

It must be "Be Nice to Bacon Lady" today because a certain someone sent me my rockin' new blog header up there.

Cool, right?

If he lived closer I would totally make him a big plate of these.

Instead of salad I would fill them with more bacon.

College was way more fun the first time around

I've got Mommy Guilt.

I've always hated that term.

I started my math adventure this morning. After a brief bout of nausea and some cold sweats I've decided that I am going to kick this class's ass. I have to just get over the fact that I haven't taken a math class since my sophomore year in college and I'm way out of practice. It probably doesn't help that that last math class was statistics and I was chemically altered for much of it.

I passed it though. I think I got a C. He must have been grading on one hell of a curve.

Because my class starts at 8am Mondays and Wednesdays, I cannot drive the girls to school those days.

It's not that Jim is incapable of covering that duty either. He pulls his weight around here in spades. I'm lucky that his work schedule allows him to do it too.

I just can't over the fact that I feel like I am shirking my responsibility as a Mom.

I quit my job to stay home with my girls almost 4 years ago. It's a decision I never saw myself making. However, though I want to hide in the bathroom with a bottle of bourbon some days, it's been one of the best choices I've ever made.

I know how lucky I am to have that choice in the first place. I know that going back to school is important and that, again, I am lucky to have the choice to do it. I know all this, but because it is something that is just for me, I feel guilty.

I guess in the big picture, this is not all for me. Once I am done with this degree then (hopefully) the next, I will be in position to have a new career to provide a future for my kids that doesn't include student loans and money worries.

My furthering my education is not only a benefit to me, but to my girls. Also, once I have a real live paycheck with health insurance benefits, I can lighten the load on my husband. I know it doesn't seem like a dude who runs a comic book store would work his ass off, but he does. He might have a great time doing it, but he pours a lot of himself into it.

He doesn't worry about money like I do which is good. He plays the straight man to my neurotic kookoopants around here. I know money shouldn't matter, but it sure seems to when you're not real sure if it's going to be there when you need it.

We have a home, food on the table and the utility bills paid so I shouldn't complain. And I'm not. I just get nervous about the state of the economy right now. People don't put comic books high up on their list of "needs", so I know the bottom could fall out at any moment.

And maybe that all ties with the guilt I am feeling. I'm spending money to go back to school when we should be saving as much as we can in case the well dries up. But I need to go back to school to get a job to have money to save.

Blabbity blah blah.

Just tell me to get over it already.