Nanny Goats in Panties

Censorship Schmensorship, WTF?

2009-11-09T14:29:00.000-08:00

We here at Nanny Goats in Panties -- and when I say "we", I am of course referring to me and my lion slippers:

Rawr!

Anyway, at NGIP, we take great care in bringing you fabulous content, and we do our best to keep it clean, profanity-wise. However, it has recently come to our attention that Amazon begs to differ, as evidenced by my profile:

Now, I don't know if Amazon's auto censorship bot is bristling over the word "Humor" or "Kindle", but it's this kind of prudishness that is stifling some of the blogosphere's most inspiring creativity. I have a good mind to organize a Blogger's March on Washington. You know, free speech, right to bear arms (or in my case, bare lionhead-clad legs), that sort of thing.

I know my rights! OK, I don't really know my rights. It's the criminals that always seem to know their rights. At least on TV. If I ever got arrested, I wouldn't have any idea what the cops are allowed to cajole out of me without a lawyer present. I would just tell them whatever they wanted to know, thinking I'm an honest person and telling them the truth is the right thing to do. But no, that's the wrong thing to do. You are screwing yourself talking to the fuzz and I think you're supposed to ask for a lawyer the second they start asking you questions. But I don't have a lawyer. On TV, people always seem to have lawyers, appearing out of nowhere after the commercial break telling their client they don't have to answer this question or that question.

Also, the police could probably come to my house and case the joint, and I wouldn't think to ask to see a search warrant, because I'm afraid of authority. I'm thinking this kind of thing should be taught in school, like Home Ec, or Woodshop. They could call it Excuse Me, Officer 101.

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, the profanity thing. I'm not through with Amazon. I believe the American thing to do is get all huffy and go on national television a la That Newdow Guy who claims his rights are being violated approximately every 16 months or so. Imagine my talking head on Fox News with Gloria Allred, my attorney (because by then I will have figured out how to have an attorney and have a big one, at that) getting all self-righteous on national television. And then Bill O'Reilly will ask if viewers can go somewhere for more information and I will say, with confidence, "Yes, they can go to Nanny Goats in P-BLEEEEEEEEEEEP". I mean, they'll have to pixelate my mouth and everything because you don't want America's children being exposed to such vulgarity.

Hey, could you be a doll and click this Sacramento Top 25 link to keep NGIP "up there" in the rankings? Just the click, nothing else. Thanks, man!

Goat Thing of the Day: Yelling and Fair Buddies

2009-11-07T13:41:00.000-08:00

A Facebook friend of mine, who has the same name as me (first and last), pointed me to a video of a goat whose quality is less than stellar (the video, not the goat), but it's the audio that's more important anyway.

If you're an NGIP email subscriber or if the video above does not work, you can click on this: Man Goat Video

And if you're one of my many many thousands and thousands of Kindle subscribers where video clips don't work, (unless you're carrying the Amazon Kindle Platinum DXL 2015 which is not only video-enabled, but also changes diapers, including Grandpa's) then NGIP has included a goat picture for those of you who are video-challenged.

Anna of I Hate Pink took a picture of something happening between two goats at at the Grant County Fair in Moses Lake, WA.

C'mere, you...

Is this a gesture of love? One goat blessing another? A mild attempt at choking?

Maybe I Just Have a Hole in My Lip

2009-11-05T15:20:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had the feeling that any minute now, love will find a way? That the answer is just blowing in the wind? That bananas will remain yellow for more than 28 hours in the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter after you've brought them home from the grocery store? Yeah, me neither.

You would think that after forty-some-odd years, I would acknowledge my drinking problem and stop wearing white clothes out to dinner. Upon my second sip of some Pinot Noir at Roxy the other night, I gave up trying to taste the wine, and decided it was far more important to wear it.

I need an intervention, obviously.

Perhaps some of you recall my last post regarding how I can't seem to keep from dribbling all over myself. That post, with the rather long title of Stop What You're Doin' Cuz I'm About to Ruin The Image and the Style that You're Used To, waxes poetic about the trials and tribulations of my threads and unintended liquids. Blogging experts would tell you to keep your titles short, but as you can see, I'm a rebel.

For reasons that confound me still today, my husband, Mr MudPuppy, does all the laundry. He must figure that if I can ruin clothing so easily while consuming food and/or wine, I cannot be trusted around heavy wardrobe-related machinery.

Mr. MudPuppy is a Stain Master, like 8th degree or something. And when we got home, he couldn't get my shirt off fast enough for some serious tackling. Yes, we're still talking about the stain.

Anyway, after Shouting and bleaching and whatever other ancient Chinese secrets (remember THAT commercial?) he had up his sleeve, it was time for the reveal.

Unbelievable, right?

Mr. MudPuppy kicks laundry ass.

And he's all mine.

So you can't have any.

As you may or may not recall (or care), I was one of the dubious judges in the IMMHB Scary Food Contest. You can find out who won by going to I Hate My Message Board's Contest Winners Announcement, but I'll give you a hint: It has to do with things in cans that don't belong there.

I would also like to announce my overweaning pride over being the #1 Google search result for the phrase "buddha sex with skulls". I can't begin to tell you what joy that brings to me.

Goat Thing of the Day: Thunderboxes

2009-11-04T11:51:00.000-08:00

You know, for the life of me, I can't figure out why an outhouse would be called a Thunderbox, but here you go.

(via Sparky of My Thoughts Exactly)

Somebody said seeing this one might give me a clue.

Nope. Still don't get it.

FYI: These outhouses were part of a traveling art project earlier this year called Thunderbox Road.

It's Not Easy Being Green

2009-11-02T15:43:00.000-08:00

I can't stand it when I order a single pea pod by mail and Peas Pods R Us insist on sending it a box the size of a small rhino. It's so wasteful.

Earlier this year in Hawaii, I arrived at the car rental place just wanting to get to the condo after a long flight. I grabbed the keys from the car rental lady, not paying much attention when she said, "This is all we had". I was just hoping it wasn't a motorcycle, since there were three of us. Counting parking space numbers, I was disheartened to see this in our designated space.

photo credit

Yep. That's a Hummer H3, all right. Navigating a monster in and out of parking spaces, and climbing in and out of that thing without the aid of a forklift, AND traveling with a disabled relative isn't the easiest thing in the world, I can tell you that.

This summer in Chicago, I called this car service to pick me up from the hotel to go back to the airport. This was set up as a group thing to transport many people attending a conference. For whatever reason, I ended up going back to the airport by myself, and the transportation coordinator tells me, well there's this car that can pick you up in 2 minutes, but it's the only thing we have available right now.

So I had to yell across the car to the chatty Cathy limo driver all the way back to the airport.

What a waste!

What if you called Rent-A-Hubby, and told the drone taking your order that, "Oh, I guess the tubby, farty one will do."

And then a few hours later, the doorbell rings, and when you answer the door, some guy waltzes into your living room and makes himself at home while the delivery man says, "I'm sorry, but this is all we had."

Do you know what I would do?

That's right, I would look that delivery man right in the eye and say, "Well you'll just have to take him back, because I'm sick and tired of all the extravagance and conspicuous consumption that has been forced upon me by you people. Out, OUT I say!"

Also? I would like to thank Crista over at the Domestic Goddess for this Over The Top Award. Thank you, Crista!

Goat Thing of the Day: Haiti

2009-10-31T20:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just drown in the goat stuff you guys send me. So while I did save this first photo, I can't for the life of me find its source link, although I do know that it was in some Florida newspaper, it was about goats going to help Haiti and that the photo was taken by one David Tucker. Oh, and that it was sent to me by my friend Dane.

Hello there!

Goats sure like to ham, don't they? Or is it pigs?

Anyway, if we're on the subject of Haiti (and I believe we are), Owen from Magic Lantern went to Haiti in 1997 and showed me his goat photos like this piece of Haitian folk art made of iron:

I know what you're going to ask and I'm going to go with uh, a butterfly?

Owen also has a photo that's somewhat Halloween appropro (unless Haiti doesn't celebrate it), but who knew goats could be grave robbers, or grave grazers, or whatever it is they're doing playing around in a cemetery?

Of Grandmas and Chocolate

2009-10-29T14:44:00.000-07:00

I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth. So my palate wasn't exactly...evolved. When I was a kid I hated German chocolate cake. Actually, I didn't like chocolate at all, but add that funky coconut or whatever it was that made a cake German chocolate and.....BLEH! My favorite cake was yellow cake with vanilla frosting.

The same thing with ice cream. My favorite flavor was vanilla. Plain old vanilla. Or maybe sometimes strawberry. But never chocolate! And leave the nuts off the sundaes, please.

Also? I didn't like the taste of coffee as a kid. So forget coffee candy or the ick of icks: rum butterscotch. To me, that nastiness was adult candy, not meant for kids.

These preferences of mine were no secret. But you know what my grandmother served after dinner at her house on my birthday, EVERY. SINGLE. YEAR? German chocolate cake with coffee almond ice cream. What the hell, Grandma?

Here it was MY birthday, and I had to sit in front of a plate of this disgusting crap and force it down. As a child, I could never understand it, but it was just one more thing that contributed to the reason why this woman was not my favorite grandmother, if I were to choose one. And I did.

I never ever ate German chocolate cake any other time, why would I want it on my BIRTHDAY--the one day of the year it was supposed to be all about ME?

Of course, in retrospect, I suppose she may have served this brown coco nutty crap because it was also my Grandfather's birthday and my father's birthday and it was meant to be more of a group celebration, but to me it wasn't fair. I was the kid and really, aren't holidays for the children? I mean, would it have killed her to have a second option on the ice cream at least? I usually scraped off the cake frosting and accompanying that with a decent vintage vanilla would have made a world of difference. Birthdays were supposed to be special, and serving me food I hated didn't make me feel that way.

And don't get me started on what I got as a gift from dear old Grandma, either. I'm liable to split a seam.

I never felt very close to that woman. I carried her middle name, Isabel, but it didn't make me favor her more. In fact, my middle name embarrassed me as a kid because it wasn't "Ann" like EVERY OTHER GIRL I KNEW. Isabel sounded like an old ladies' name. It's not something I shared in public willingly.

Even though I never tested any boundaries with "Izzy", as Grandpa called her, I always felt like she occupied her time not approving of me. She was serious and authoritative. She never "played" with me. Children were to be seen and not heard. She was full of rules and standards. You dressed up (as in, you actually wore a dress) when you went to the grocery store. You took off your shoes in the service porch before coming into the house. Her couch was usually covered in creaky plastic. The house was constantly and immaculately clean. My mother obviously rebelled the second she moved out, got married and had us kids, so Grandma's rules seemed Draconian to me.

She spent the last few years of her life in a nursing home, suffering from dementia that would result in her refusing physical therapy for a broken hip. I was her conservator, so once when she hysterically demanded the phone from the staff, they called me and let her cry into the phone, demanding to "come home". I told her I would come right over and I did.

I arrived hoping she had calmed down and forgotten everything by the time I got there, but she was still panicky and wanted to "go home". Instead of telling her she was already home, or that she had to stay where she was, I asked her why. She said "the Germans" were coming to get her and they would kill her with a knife in court or something like that. A few minutes later, I picked up the paperback she was reading and realized she was reliving the last scene she had read in the book. Word for word. Weird that her memory was so good, yet served her so disastrously.

On a different visit, I asked her how she had met my grandfather. She told me this crazy story about how Grandpa was this leather jacket-wearing motorcycle-riding rebel. And how her family didn't approve of him. And how they ran up to Reno and got married while she was still in high school. It sounded romantic, but definitely not something Grandma would do, and I wondered what book she had taken that story from.

When she died, I gave her eulogy at the funeral. I had reflected on memories and gone through her belongings to construct an appropriate funeral for a woman I had never gotten to know. As I outlined the eulogy, I began to realize how much we had in common. Either her "rules" had an influence on me, or I was genetically destined to be like her in other ways not so obvious, regardless of my resistance.

However, my impression of her as a rule-following, properly-behaved woman melted away when I found a newspaper article in her scrapbook that announced the elopement to Reno of her and my grandfather while she was still attending Sacramento High School. In 1937. I thought that was fantastic and wished I could have hung out more with THAT woman.

It was such a revelation for me and I was disappointed that I missed out on that part of Grandma. I wish I had spent more time with her, particularly before the dementia. Instead I got to know her a little better by rummaging through all her stuff as I settled her estate. Now I'm proud of and even impressed by her. She didn't spend her time with me disapproving of everything I did, she was busy teaching me life lessons. And now I like my middle name and I love that it came from my Grandma Isabel.

But I still don't like German chocolate cake.

* * *

(This post was inspired by, of all things, a recipe. For German chocolate cake. Over at Jan's Sushi Bar)

Goat Thing of the Day: Leavenworth

2009-10-28T11:35:00.000-07:00

Mt Forest Pictures shows a picture from their trip to Leavenworth, Washington.

(via CashJockey and The Old Salt)

Ever been to Leavenworth? As in Leavenworth, Washington? Not as in Leavenworth the prison (although if you've been there, I'd like to hear about that, too). Anyway, this Leavenworth is one of those Dutch Villages. You know, like how Solvang is a Dutch Village.

Lacy, NGIP Mascot, Makes her Las Vegas Debut

2009-10-25T21:21:00.000-07:00

Hello! And welcome to the scrollfest that is the rundown on my (er, Lacy's) trip to Vegas for SITScation, a blogger's conference last weekend. While the rest of the world was at Blog World Expo, seventy-five or so of us descended on a smaller, more intimate, less overwhelming blogging conference.

If there's one piece of advice I can give you about going to such an event, it's that you should bring a mascot. People love mascots, and pink-pantied Lacy was no exception. At the risk of allowing her to become more famous than I, I brought her to The Venetian in Vegas with me, and she rocked it.

Here she is delivering her keynote speech at SITScation in the Venetian conference center:

Lacy was accosted by fans all day long and it felt like being bombarded by the paparazzi (because I totally know what that feels like, me and Paris Hilton, yo.)

Anyway, people screamed and cried and begged to have their picture taken with Lacy, such as:

Bobbi (Bobbi in LaLaLand) and Connie (The Young and Relentless).

Bobbi and Connie are sisters, in case you didn't know. You may notice that Connie is wearing her pink and zebra print to go with the SITS theme of pink and leopard print, which is so funny because I was THIS close to wearing my pink and goat print outfit.

Also tripping over themselves to get a picture with Lacy were:

Kerri (Damn You Little Rock) and Amy (The Bee Dot)...two fabulous ladies from Arkansas. Is that tug-of-war they're playing?

Also? The infamous Jessica Gottleib. Lacy practically broke her neck, craning to give her a kiss.

And no star-studded photo album would be complete without a picture of SITScation's fearless leaders:

Tiffany (R Family Diaries) and Heather (Mindless Junque), the co-founders of SITS. I cannot recommend enough that you find a way to get to know these friendly, generous women, if you ever have the opportunity.

A big party transpired that night, complete with red carpet and step-and-repeat backdrop photographs. You probably already saw them in People magazine or something, since I'm a week late getting this report out.

Here's Tonya (This and That) posing for the photog on the red carpet.

And then it was Lacy's turn. Sadly, nobody asked her who she was wearing.

You may or may not recognize the arm assistance of Lara (Chicken Nuggets of Wisdom).

Two people we actually got to spend some time with during this whirlwhind of an event were two bloggers from Los Angeles. This is my favorite part of any conference: The connecting to people IRL (in real life).

Dale (Stroke of Living), Lacy and me

Kim (House of Prince) and Lacy

Then there was the after-party with many celebrities in their hotel rooms. This is the closest I could get to showing you the after-party, as the bodyguards slash bouncers just inside this door confiscated our cameras upon entry to ensure no leaks to TMZ.com.

We also had to sign a confidentiality agreement that said we would not divulge the party attendees. So I can't tell you who all I saw. What I can tell you, however, is that Kim Kardashian and Justin Timberlake were at the Venetian that weekend, but I cannot confirm or deny that they were in Suite 12-101. Because that would be wrong.

Lacy stayed only as long as was fashionable before she expressed a desire to hit the slots.

After a few speakers the next morning, Lacy lunched with fellow bloggers.

During dessert, she Twittered about the weekend's events. And since she has about 48 badrillion followers, pretty much everyone knew what we were doing.

After the final Blog and Nosh session, Lacy dragged me all over the Venetian for some more photo ops she'd promised some of her fans, most of whom I did not know. Like this blue guy.

On our way to another photo-op, we walked past this Venetian statue that lost its composure and screamed "OMG! Lacy! LACY! Can I get a picture with you? OMG, David will be soooo jealous!" Lacy rolled her eyes, but agreed. I mean, she does have her public to consider. And after all, she wouldn't be where she is without her fans, blue or white as they may be.

But it was Lacy who groveled at this next guy's feet when she stumbled upon him as we were on our way to some VIP goat blog event. Come on, I tried to tell her, the guy's a troll! But she couldn't help herself. It was embarrassing, really.

I don't know what she saw in him, when clearly Humpty Dumpty could provide so much better for her. And adore her like no other. Why are girls so attracted to the bad boys?

Granted, Humpty can be fragile at times, but doesn't that mean he's the real sensitive type?

I ducked into a bathroom just to catch my breath and escape all the testosterone, but when I snuck into a stall my eyes fell upon this necklace hanging from the stall door!

And speaking of penises, have I even mentioned all the swag from SITScation?

Even though it was an all-female conference, we were bedecked with male/double-entendre swag, like these little devices called "pokens"...

and vibrators...

Oops! That not a vibrator. I think.

But this is:

courtesy of Edens Fantasys

Lacy and I were exhausted and she insisted on returning to our room, where she sprawled on our tiny tiny hotel room couch. In the sunken living room.

And then it was back to the craps tables. Personally, I think she has a gambling problem.

This is my favorite picture from the weekend:

Venetian Statue Guy

I don't know if you've heard, whether it was on CNN, or the AP Newswire, but Nanny Goats in Panties is now available on Amazon's Kindle. Tell your Kindle-havin' friends. And you know what would really be cool? At least for me? If you went to the NGIP Kindle page and wrote a nice little review. You don't have to if you don't want to, or don't have an Amazon profile, or whatever, but I've heard it doesn't hurt to ask people for things. I think it was Renee J Ross (Cutie Booty Cakes) who said those very words when she spoke to us at SITScation.

Do I expect many Kindle subscribers? Heck no. But every little outlet helps. And now I can say I have published work available on Amazon.com - woo-hoo!

Goat Thing of the Day: Taking Billy for a Ride

2009-10-23T10:29:00.000-07:00

So Echidne of the Snakes found this picture in her family photos and posted it recently on her blog...

picture lifted from Echidne of the Snakes (via Elmlish)

I asked her for the story but she couldn't recall if there was one. That's OK, leaving it up to the imagination might be even better.

Interview with Uma Thurman. Yes THAT Uma Thurman

2009-10-21T16:16:00.000-07:00

When is someone going to expose the fact that Hillary Swank and Matt Damon are the same person? Have you ever seen them in the same room togther? Have they both ever starred in the same film?

Also? They BOTH have that same upside down smile. You know what I mean. Where the corners are turned down instead of up even though their teeth are showing.

Anyway, I'm not the only one who thinks this, and as usual, that's not why I brought you here.

No, I called this meeting today to discuss the right way and the wrong way to interview a celebrity. And those of you at home might want to call up your favorite celebrity now and follow along as I walk you through the proper steps.

First of all, be specific. I was on the phone with Uma Thurman the other day and I asked her if she had a funny story about the filming of Motherhood, an upcoming movie where she plays Eliza, a stay-at-home mother (SAHM) and mommyblogger. She said she didn't have a specific funny story, although she did say "I think I threw my lower back out doing those endless pounding up-and-down-the-stair shots with dogs and it had been a few years since I'd had that back pack on. And I never liked those either. They make you feel like the baby is a not-very-well-secured ball of ice cream on a somewhat broken wafer cone. It's quite nerve-wracking how spindly and top heavy you feel with that thing on."

So while she did say something, I didn't make it very easy for her and Uma had to work harder to come up with an answer. What I should have asked, obviously, is what she was wearing. Or how she was able to eat at the studio commissary with those big thumbs while shooting Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, although that would have been a little off-topic. But "off-topic" is my middle name.

So yeah, I was a dork and essentially asked, "Do you have anything funny to say, DERRRRRRRR???"

Luckily, some other bloggers were on the call and had the decency to ask intelligent, thoughtful questions.

Like Jennifer (Hip as I Wanna Be) who asked Uma how the audience would relate to her character, Eliza.

In response, Uma told us that "The character is someone who has chosen to be a stay-at-home-mother and yet she's struggling with that decision. She feels fulfilled, yet compromised by being in total babyland and not stimulating other sides of herself."

Lara (Chicken Nuggets of Wisdom) asked her if she felt motherhood had been overlooked by Hollywood. See what smart questions you can ask if you just think about it for a minute? Maybe I was blank because with no kids, I had nothing to draw on. In any event, Uma said she did believe that motherhood has been "put on the third shelf" in Hollywood.

Mary (Wired Moms) wanted to know if she was surprised by anything during the production. Uma said she was surprised how the children that she worked with were such good actors, having never played a realistic mom before.

Motherhood is one of the first films to tackle the subject of mommy-blogging. Uma's character Eliza is a writer who blogs for a creative outlet. Kacey (Chronicles of a Mommy) asked Uma if she'd researched blogs for her role, and Uma admitted that she hadn't, saying: "I feel so badly telling you that."

Motherhood opens Friday, October 23 in New York, LA, San Francisco, Boston, and Chicago. The rest of the country will have the chance to see it beginning on Friday, October 30.

For more information about Motherhood including a trailer, you can go to the Motherhood film website.

(All pics lifted from motherhoodthefilm.com)

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

2009-10-15T10:32:00.000-07:00

Why yes, it was a little windy here the other day. Why do you ask?

On the side of our house

In front of our house

My husband walked outside during the storm and I watched one of those tree branches spear down and try to impale him, missing by maybe three feet.

Unfortunately, the other tree branch failed to miss my car.

So anyway, that's not why I called you here. I called you here to introduce you to the new NGIP mascot. Her name is Lacy (who may or may not be a cross-dressing Nanny goat trapped in a Billy goat's body).

Lacy, the Nanny Goats in Panties mascot

And I'm taking her to Vegas with me this weekend to introduce her to a bunch of bloggers at the SITScation blogger conference. And don't worry, what happens in Vegas, goes on the blog. And Twitter. And Facebook, etc.

Goat Thing of the Day: Dressing Up Your Goat

2009-10-14T08:09:00.000-07:00

So, alert NGIP fan Alaine sent me a picture of this leopard print goat coat from someone's Etsy site.

Etsy, if you don't know, if a sort of store front for people's homemade items.

Of course, I thought this was so cool and couldn't wait to show it to you guys! However, not everyone thought it was as fabulous as I did and the next thing you know, Lisa from Condo Blues asked if I'd yet seen a picture of the same outfit featured on a parody site called Regretsy. The entry was filed under Pet Humiliation.

The question is, am I further humiliating this poor little goat? Or am I on the cutting edge of spreading the latest fad known as Goats and Coats (or GoCo) because there's no such thing as bad publicity?

Unconventional Movie Review: The Boys Are Back

2009-10-12T10:50:00.000-07:00

My motto is: If it's free, it's for me. So when I was invited to a movie screening for The Boys are Back, starring Clive Owen, I jumped on it. Oh, excuse me: a FILM. I was going to see a FILM, because a FILM is what we movie snobs attend. We do not see MOVIES. MOVIES are so declasse.

Initially, I was looking forward to it. Then Pessimism and Neurosis showed up and did everything they could to ruin the night for me. I was worried about getting a bad seat. I was worried about jerks around me talking during the movie. I was worried about paying some ungodly sum for parking, since the only information I saw about prices was several dollars per half hour.

As I get older and my memory fades, I wonder if I was always like this, or if there is a reason why I can't just frickin' chill.

Anyway, my niece and I arrived an hour early to meet up with two other bloggers, Jane, who runs MidLifeBloggers, and Lena Loo, and a line had already begun to form for the mov--er... film, and even though I asked one of the theater employees about this line and even though I was told I would not have to wait in that line, I wondered whether or not to believe them and still figured we had to get there before they started letting people in and Oh My God, what if we walk in at the last minute? Will we even be able to sit together?

Apparently my fellow bloggers weren't the least bit concerned. They had what was called "experience" in this sort of thing and felt confident there would probably be seats set aside for us.

Yeah, right! As if! Not bloody likely! You have ME with you, and I am the Queen of Bad Karma and you will be lucky if you get to sit on the floor, wallowing in popcorn butter and sticky Milk Duds residue.

So I sat at a nearby Starbucks with my cohorts trying not to look at my watch every three minutes or utter things like, "So, do you think we should go now? Should we try to get a seat, do you think? Hey, what's say we beat the crowd?"

I'm pathetic, right? Don't ever ask me to go out with you, because I'm pathetic.

Now properly hopped-up on caffeine, I erratically dart over with my friends to the theater, where the line has disappeared, which means everyone already has a seat and we'll be lucky if we can stand in the back and somebody is checking our name on a list and another guy says, 'Right this way', and he leads us to three rows taped off for reserved guests.

Huzza! Huzza!

See? I may be a cynic, but I'm also easy to please. It falls under that set-your-expectations-low-and-you'll-always-be-pleasantly-surprised category.

So what else is there to worry about now? Well, let me tell you, because my worries knows no bounds. Jane was sitting behind some guy with a big head so we all scooted over one seat which left no extra seat for Lena Loo's not-yet-arrived guest and what if they showed up and asked us to scoot back over so she could sit down, but that would put Jane back behind the guy with the big head and if the lights were off by then we wouldn't be able to explain that to the late person without pissing people off around us because they're trying to watch the previews or the movie or whatever and I was totally stressing about that and why was I taking such responsibility for a person I did not know and do they have narcotics for this sort of thing and can I get them in pill form because I don't like needles very much.

But then it was revealed that the late person wasn't going to show up at all and I thought, WHY CAN'T I JUST FRICKIN' RELAX ALREADY??? Or should I merely lay off the lattes?

Here's what a freak I am about A-Holes in the movie theater: The best part of this whole evening happened BEFORE the movie started when some Miramax Studios guy came out and told everyone to turn off their phones and shut up during the movie and don't talk TO to the movie and don't ask their neighbor what's going on in the movie because chances are, they haven't seen the movie either, and I LOVED this guy. I could have kissed him for telling everyone to just shut the hell up for once in their lives while they watch a movie. And the most incredible part? Everyone heeded his words. Unbelievable. I got to enjoy the film because people around me weren't pissing me off. See what I mean about setting low expectations?

And enjoy the movie I did. It wasn't your typical Hollywood film in that they don't spell everything out for you. You have to bring a minimum amount of brain, not a lot, but a little, to this movie. They don't just shove fast cars and big boobs in your face for ninety minutes. It's a slightly unconventional drama with a moving story and touching humor.

"No cars and boobs? How unAmerican!" you might proclaim. Exactly. For one thing, it was filmed in Australia and the UK. And for another thing, it's about relationships and parenting and love, fierce and real love.

The Boys are Back, inspired by the same-named Simon Carr memoir, follows a sports writer (Clive Owen), who tries to grapple with single fatherhood after the loss of his wife. It's brilliantly acted, it's realistic, and it can be a bit of a tear jerker at times. The older son, Harry (George MacKay), looks like he could be Rupert Grint's (or Ron Weasley's, depending on how grounded in reality you are) younger brother. He's the one on the left below (in case it's not THAT obvious).

photo lifted from Miramax's Flickr Page

And since it's not a big car and fast-boobed American film, I'm lucky Sacramento is even showing it on one screen. (Quick--go see it at the Tower Theater before it goes away!) But enough about my views of the lacklusterness in my town; wanna see a trailer?

Click this blog link for The Boys Are Back if the above video isn't working.

It was a wonderful escape, but the black cloud of doom was waiting for me as we exited the theater to escort us to the parking garage. The walk back was long and dreary. I envisioned the parking booth guy refusing to lift the exit bar gate thingie until I coughed up 45 dollars for the use of his big cement box. I handed over my theater-validated ticket, hoping for a discount, any discount. My kingdom for a discount!

Man, I remember when you could park downtown for free on the weekends. What's this world coming to? I began rooting around in my purse for all the money it contained when the exit gate lifted and the booth guy called out, "Thank you."

I peeled out of there before he changed his mind and turned to my passengers with a "Woo hoo!" I'm almost sure they were laughing with me, rather than at me and my roller coaster of emotions that vacillated between despair and joy all night.

***

P.S. Thanks to Melissa over at Women & Hollywood for the opportunity to screen this film.

Got any scary food you want to share and potentially win a prize? I Hate My Message Board is hosting a contest where you send in photos of the scariest food you can find. Also? I'm going to be one of the contest judges. I would say I'm not above bribing, but something tells me that might be the most ethical thing to say.

Also? Vodka Mom is is having a giveaway that includes a $50 Fandango gift card and other paraphernalia from the upcoming movie The Vampire's Assistant.

Goat Thing of the Day: Sidehacking and a Street Sign

2009-10-10T13:38:00.000-07:00

OK, but what is SHE riding? Is that a razor scooter?

By the way, I looked up "sidehacking" in the dictionary and I apologize for the double entendre. Sort of.

My thanks to Israel of Elmlish who found this on This Picture is Unrelated.

Also, Helen (Dog Nut Mom) of Luce and Blaze drives by this sign every day and snapped a picture for NGIP.

I don't know how her town manages to install signs without the posts, but I bet it saves the local government a ton on street sign maintenance costs.

Tacky Weddings

2009-10-08T13:33:00.000-07:00

Do you ever go to a wedding and judge everything about it? Suddenly you're an event planner, criticizing everything, knowing you could have done it better. You look at the stringed popcorn hanging from the walls, or the cocktail weenies served with miniature toothpick flags that say 'Eat me!', or the pet goat acting as ring bearer and think: how tacky.

We attended a wedding in Solvang over the weekend and maybe you can tell me just what the coordinator (if they even had one) was thinking.

First we arrived near the groom parent's house where a team of valet guys swiped our cars and we were golfcarted up the hill...

On the way I noticed they had set up a tent or two in the backyard. Tents! As if, we were going to some campfire hoe-down.

And as we waited for the ceremony to begin, I was so bored, what with the 200+ people, the catered refreshments, the live band, and the view of nothing but rocks.

During the ceremony all I could think about was how these two poor people were getting married in his parent's driveway. I mean honestly! Who does that?

And whose idea was it to have indoor furniture outside? How inappropriate is that? Never mind the fact that someone had set the coffee table on fire. Barbarians!

Well, the reception was no better, what with those 30-foot long centerpieces constantly getting in the way.

Apples and pomegranates all over the table. You're probably wondering if that fruit was real. Oh yeah, they were real. And they were spectacular.

And all the interruptions during dinner! Hula dancers? Really? I'm trying eat here, people!

Also? We peasants weren't allowed to use the bathroom inside the house. No, we had to use the porta pottys.

I know! Gross, right?

And who can't be bothered to make a tiered wedding cake? I swear this country is going to hell in a hand basket.

Boy, talk about low-class. I don't know, what do you think? Am I being too harsh?

Not to brag or anything, but I got about a million awards this week, and I'd like to thank some people for bestowing them upon yours truly.

Thanks to Dawn of Peeling an Orange With a Screwdriver for this one.

Thank you Angela's Soliloquy, Shhh...don't tell the kids I'm here, and Growing Up...Townsend Style.

Thank you Badger Momma!

Goat Thing of the Day: Give Us a Kiss

2009-10-07T11:02:00.000-07:00

For some reason I hear the voice of Pepe Le Pew...

smoochie-smoochie!

Thanks to Andy from Andy Megawan's Blog for showing me this photo seen on Break Media.

If Solvang Isn't Dutch, Then What Is It?

2009-10-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

Last Friday I ignorantly wrote the following on my Facebook status...

...because somewhere in my online traipsing for maps of Solvang, CA, I read that it's a Dutch village.

Well, it's not. And what kind of journalist would I be if I let the mistake stand without correction? I have a dubious blogging responsibility to check my facts and report them to you, dear reader.

But here's the problem. I get so confused when it comes to distinguishing more than one country when referring to Denmark and The Netherlands and Holland. And if they speak Dutch in Holland, then what language do they speak in Denmark? And which one is in Scandinavia? And which one has windmills? And the wooden shoes?

And how could I be so confused when I'd actually BEEN to one of these countries (whichever one has Amsterdam in it)?

Solvang (circa 2009)

So after learning that Solvang is a Danish village which refers to Danish people who are from Denmark and only Denmark, a country that has Danes in it, I find that you can still be easily confused, because I thought Holland was a country known for its windmills and wooden shoes. But no, Solvang would have you believe that they are the symbol of the Danes as well:

And spotting The Belgian Cafe only complicates matters.

I mean, aren't Belgians from Belgia, or Bulgaria or somewhere?

And aren't trolleys from America? Specifically, San Francisco?

And when you see a sign for "Dogtoberfest" in a Solvang store front window, do you think "Danish Pointer"? Or "German Shepherd"?

Excuse me, but is that lederhosen?

Of course, nothing screams Danish culture like memorializing Michael Jackson's death and his virtually-foreclosed Peter Pan property, which I will grant is located within 150 miles of Solvang.

So, in summary and conclusion, I ask you: what is Danish? I'll tell you what it is. It's this bad boy from the Solvang Bakery...

And now if you'll excuse me, I've got some blood sugar to raise.

Some of you may recall that I wrote some content for a video game that was released in August called Coconut Queen. Gamezebo interviewed the game's creators who also mentioned me in the article which you can read on the Gamezebo website in this Behind The Scenes Interview.

From the Aww-You-Shouldn't-Have Department:
Some of you insist on upsetting the balance by one-upping me in the gift arena. I sent Paula (who writes a blog called How to be a Cat Lady Without all the Cats) a pen or two and she hurls THIS T-shirt back at me:

click to enlarge

Thank you, Paula! It is so goaty and bizarre and I love it! This shirt comes from the Bully Hill Winery in Hammondsport, New York, where even their mailing labels are crazy!

Also? I would like to thank Plain ol' Bob over at plainolebob answers for awarding me with his very own super customized Hot Dawg Blogger award. Thanks, Bob!

Goat Thing of the Day: The Sacred and the Crazy

2009-10-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

NGIP correspondent Mike of Mike's Mixed Memories sent in this picture of the Temple of Sacred Goats in Israel:

And how do I know it's the Temple of the Sacred Goats? Because it says so on the sign:

You can read more about it on this page about the city of Banyas.

And I don't know what this guy's problem is, but I'd like to thank Debbie from A Tired Wife for showing it to me:

Marrying George Clooney With a Free Lunch

2009-10-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

Someone once said that if you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. What they don't tell you is that if you do put flowers in your hair and they are two dozen long stem red roses, be sure and de-thorn them first. Well, live and learn, I guess. And hair grows back, right? Well, not if you're follicly challenged, but you know what I mean.

On one recent Sunday, a group blogger lunch was organized in San Francisco, about a two-hour podcast-filled drive from Sacramento. I was excited and nervous to meet and make new bloggy friends. Luckily, I arrived about half an hour early, because that's about how long it took to find a parking place since, you know, San Francisco.

The lunch (which was actually breakfast since I had an omelette, the restaurant being a crepe place and all) was delicious. And I connected with several smart and fabulous women who were excited about the blogosphere in northern California. A pile of books were produced and we were asked to take one and review it on our blogs if we could. I walked out with a free book (score!) and a better feeling about myself to meet new people.

I also walked out without paying for my lunch.

Yeah, I realized that about five minutes after I drove off in my car. I was mortified. So mortified that I broke the law and got on my phone while navigating the 45-degree hills to call one of the girls to profusely apologize, beg for forgiveness, and swear to make up for it when I saw them in Vegas later this month at SITScation, a blogger conference.

So let's see...for those of you keeping score at home, that's one free lunch and one free book. That puts me in the lead, doesn't it?

I'm a sucker for laugh-out-loud memoirs and that free book I got was one of them. Marrying George Clooney, which reads a bit like a blog, is written by Amy Ferris who somehow manages to make the hell that is menopause funny. She has insomnia and most of the chapters were written at 3am when the rest of the neighborhood, including her husband, are sound asleep.

And her mother has dementia, which is no laughing matter, except Ferris pulls it off anyway. While most of the people who can relate to this book would be midlife women who take care of their parents, Ferris' writing is poignant enough to pull in any member of the audience, whether young or male. She does not alienate; she sucks you in. And then makes you laugh.

I could have done without the whole preface, though. Seven pages of blah, blah, blah that I didn't need to know and was misled into thinking the book was going to be a dud, because she doesn't turn it on until Chapter 1 on page 16.

Also? She didn't need to change up the font all the time in order to emphasize what she was trying to say. Her writing was the most beautiful woman in the room who felt compelled to put on too much make-up when she could have arrived clean-faced. Her use of language is gorgeous; the important lines stand out all by themselves and don't need any help. In other words, don't put A1 Steak Sauce or ketchup on that filet mignon; it's delicious just the way it is.

But maybe that's just me and all those italic interruptions and ALL CAPS asides wouldn't bother you at all. I'm just barfing out my own opinion. Either way, I highly recommend this book for a touching and hilarious look at a midlife crisis.

AAAAAAAND.....it's available on Kindle.

THANK YOU to Lorie for throwing this at me during a recent awards ceremony on her blog, The Shewbridges of Celebration, FL.

And thank you to Phillipia who thinks this blog is fabulous!

Goat Things of the Day: DC Wagon Pullers and a Rather Good Video

2009-09-30T12:04:00.000-07:00

Alert NGIP fan Israel from the Elmlish blog showed me this picture the other day from the Shorpy website. The photo was taken in Washington D.C. about 1917. So that would make the goats about....uhhhhhh...92 years old today? Wow!

(click on pic to enlarge)

Also? I found this little goaty video on YouTube.

If the above link doesn't work, click on this goat video link. For me, it was like a Lays potato chip.

Interview With Anthony Edwards

2009-09-28T11:48:00.000-07:00

A bunch of women bloggers and I sat together in our respective homes, cars, water closets, etc., on a conference call the other day, waiting for the television and film star to come onto the proverbial stage so we could barrage him with questions. Do you have any idea how hard it is to shove eighteen microphones into someone's face over the phone?

"Just a few minutes", the moderator told us, "and we'll bring Anthony in on the call."

Anthony Edwards: Goose in Top Gun. Dr. Greene on ER. And now he's playing a distracted husband to Uma Thurmond's Eliza in a new movie coming out October 23rd called Motherhood.

And Nanny Goats in Panties had the opportunity to interview him. We had previously submitted "up to 3 questions each" and then the moderator would decide which questions could be asked during the interview.

I had agonized over my questions. What could I ask? It had to be something different. Something that you guys might think funny. This is, after all, a humor blog, right? I had MY PUBLIC to think about. But I also had to ask something that would make it through the censors. I ran out of time, but came up with something like this:

1. What are you wearing right now?
2. Some question that actually relates to the movie or parenting.
3. Some other question that actually relates to the movie or parenting.

OK. Anthony Edwards gets on the call. He's currently wheeling his seven-year-old daughter's bike to the shop to repair a flat tire. There was a mixture of collective sighs and parental approval of every woman on the call. He is already the perfect father. The street sounds of New York City can be heard in the background. You know, honking horns, hissing buses, the occasional mugging of old ladies.

The moderator begins directing who can ask which question they submitted. I'm chanting under my breath while also holding the MUTE button: what are you wearing what are you wearing what are you wearing.

We were supposed to only ask questions that related to parenting, the movie, etc. And my silly wardrobe question could have potentially offended the moderator, as if I was asking as a heavy-breathing middle-of-the-night phone caller, and with a blog name that incorporates "Panties", I could have been booted from the call or worse, banned forever from the "Movie Star Interview Network". They could have made sure that I never did business in this town again.

Or, they could have taken it in the way it was intended. Just an innocent silly question, trying to be funny. I like this question, actually. Because if you recall, every time you read an interview, the writer always describes where they are and what the celebrity is wearing. To set the scene for you, the reader. They would probably also be addressing Anthony as "Edwards", and not be breaking the fourth wall, but I never went to journalism school, so I don't know anything about that. And just whose blog is this, anyway?

Now where was I...oh yes..to ask, or not to ask, what someone is wearing.

This was a phone call interview, so I'm actually asking about clothing with some sincerity. Is it really too much too ask? Quinn Cummings didn't think so when I interviewed her.

Suddenly the moderator is calling out my name and the name of my blog. Anthony laughs when he hears "Nanny Goats in Panties" - Yay! The moderator and some of the other bloggers laugh too, which might be a good sign, right? I'm waiting for the moderator to tell me which question I can ask, but there is some discussion about the naming of blogs and joking about hiring us for our creativity.

what are you wearing what are you wearing what are you wearing

The moderator says: "Although we'd love to know what Anthony's wearing right now, I think we should go with Question #3."

More laughter.

I ask my moderated question: "When you think back on the shooting or the production of the film, what's the greatest moment or the first thing you remember about the experience?"

And Anthony says, "It was really being in the world of the West Village. To be able to shoot a film in the West Village in New York - it's kind of a magical environment...it meant a lot to the filmmaker. That, as an actor, made it a lot of fun because you were just so immersed in the world. And the kids were a blast."

So I guess you could say I got in two questions and one answer. Woo hoo! Move over, Katie Couric!

That was like a courtroom drama, where the lawyer asks the defendant accused of murder, "Isn't it true that you repeatedly threatened to kill your sister's pet hamster?" and the defendant's lawyer yells, "Objection. Irrelevant. He was three years old at the time, your Honor." and the judge says, "Objection sustained, please strike that from the record" except that everyone heard it and can't strike it from their minds, so you see what I did there? Everyone knows I wanted to know what Anthony Edwards was wearing.

Woo hoo! Move over, Perry Como!

When Anthony is later asked what it was like to work with the kids in the film, he says, "When you speak your lines, they are mouthing your words along with you and look at you funny if you forget a line".

Motherhood is a movie produced by women. Anthony had a "strong mother" growing up and has three daughters (and a son) now, so "being on a set with five female producers was like being at the dinner table".

He tells us he has been training for weeks to run in this year's New York City marathon on Nov. 1. He and others are spearheading the fundraising for shoe4africa.org, an organization dedicated to empowering women in Africa through the sport of running. They plan to build the first public children's hospital in Kenya. (You can give via Paypal on their website). The organization is 100% charitable, in that 100% of your donation goes directly to building the hospital. There is no overhead, yet there is transparent accountability. How often does THAT happen?

The final question by another blogger to Anthony is: "What is one thing that you think dads would like moms to understand better about being the dad?"

He says: "That it's really not intentional that we forgot what you said. There is no intentional passive-aggressiveness in the fact that we forgot."

All the mothers on the call giggle knowingly.

It's been about half an hour. The interview comes to a close with perfect timing as his daughter's bike wheel is now fixed and they can go to the park.

Thank you, Anthony Edwards! And thanks to the good people at 42West for coordinating the interview. And for deciding against pressing charges for inappropriate questions by one goat lady.

However, if I could have submitted one more question, it would have been:

"You're a father of four children. Do you ever feel the need, the need for speed?"

What?

For more information about Motherhood including a trailer, you can go to the Motherhood film website.

(All pics lifted from motherhoodthefilm.com)

Yes, I've been sending out NGIP pens to people, but I never expected someone to send me something back. And while Lisa of Pink Porches said she would, I thought she was just trying to bribe her way into getting a fabulous pen (haha!). But over the weekend, I get this in the mail.

This 12-inch handmade bag has a thick canvassy quilty feel and it's gorgeous! Plus she attached a notecard with a picture of a goat with the very bag she sent. Way to blow me away, Lisa! In the words of Kevin Costner from Dances With Wolves: "Good Trade".

And speaking of those pens, I'd like to thank the following faboo people for spreading the NGIP love by blogging about the awesomeness that is the NGIP pen:

Mary at Writes Phillipia

Melodie at Laughing Duck Farm

Collette at My Babcia's Babushka

Goat Thing of the Day: The Eponymous Blog Post

2009-09-26T11:20:00.000-07:00

Well, it had to happen eventually. Patty, who serves as the publicist for the The Maaaaa of Pricilla blog sent me a picture of Emily, one of the new kids on the block. And now...for the first time on NGIP, I give you....a real live nanny goat in panties:

I've already nicknamed her "Droopy Drawers".

Hello, I'm T-Mach, Superhero.

2009-09-24T00:01:00.000-07:00

If I were a superhero, my super power would be the ability to travel in time. And my superhero name would be T-Mach (pronounced "Tee-Mock". It's a derivative of Time Machine, get it?).

Then, every time I screwed up or wanted to "undo", I could just go back in time and "fix" it.

So, like that time when a bronze elephant statue fell out of the sky and smashed our local wealthy chip clip magnate into a greasy spot on the downtown sidewalk, I would simply travel back to about ten minutes before the greasy spot formed. I'd keep an eye on the sky and when I saw a speck of a trunked shiny metal mass growing bigger and bigger, I'd find the target and pull him out of the way, saving his life and becoming a big hero. I'd be so famous and every time a camera bulb flashed or a microphone was shoved into my face, I'd smile, hold up a little nanny goats in panties (oh, I'd have also gone back in time and bought a real live baby goat and put little panties on it and taken it downtown so that it would be at arm's length should the opportunity arise) and promote my little blog. Next thing you know, NGIP would be The Little Blog That Could.

Or, I would buy a newspaper and check the Lotto numbers and then I would go back two days in time and buy a ticket with the winning numbers. I would do this every time I needed some cash because, you know, 4.3 million dollars before taxes just doesn't go far these days. Also? You can never have enough money. No matter how rich or how poor you are, you always want more. It's human nature. We are greedy bastards. And if we have the misfortune to win the lottery, and get accosted by every distant cousin and charity case, and get guilted into giving them all of our money, then it's back to Joe's Bait Shop and Pancake House for another Lotto ticket.

I would also re-live every unfortunate conversation I've ever had where I wished I'd said something else. In fact, if there was just a global FIND and REPLACE feature to this time travel thing, I would do a search on every occurance of "Oh, yeah?" and replace it with "Oh yeah, Fartface?"

With great power comes great responsibility, and as you can see, I would only use my power for good things. Good things for me, anyway. Like getting lots o' wads o' dough.

Now I just need a trusty sidekick.

* * *

This post is part of the Writer's Workshop hosted by Mama's Losin' It, which in turn is part of Moxie Media's Around the Blogosphere in 5 Days campaign. The campaign is intended to introduce the new media powerhouse called Moxie Media, of which I am a member.

Thanks to Lisa at Pink Porches for totally blogging about her new NGIP pens. And just look at her banner:

How cute is that?

Also? A big THANK YOU to A Tired Wife for throwing NGIP a shout out about her new pens too!

Goat Thing of the Day: The Underground Railroad and The Lush

2009-09-23T11:47:00.000-07:00

Goats such as this little guy have been found roaming the Hutchinson River Parkway in the Bronx.

Supposedly keeping goats in your backyard in New York City is illegal (for those people who even have backyards, that is). The director of Farm Sanctuary, the group who took in the goat, was quoted saying that the Hutchinson River Parkway "has become something of an 'underground railroad' for goats looking to escape New York City's live markets with their lives."

Huh?

Thanks to Tom who found this via Gothamist, and Bobbi of Bobbi In La La Land who found this via KSL.com

Meanwhile....who hasn't already seen this?

Many people sent this one in to Nanny Goats in Panties, but it was Judy of Coffee Jitters who hit my email inbox first. Photo was seen (obviously) on I Can Haz Cheeseburger?