my blonde logic

depressing chick flick, thanks hollywood

2009-02-24T20:22:34-05:00

I finally am going to see a movie that has adults no talking animals, no amazing tweens, no pixar, and no booster seats. Going to the movies during the day is the ultimate treat. I first discovered its magic when Thing 1 was an infant. Until then I had never gone to a movie by myself and very rarely had the opportunity or desire to go to the cinema during daylight hours (unless it was a weekend). My first experience was life changing. I sat where I wanted to sit, drank what I wanted to drink (no sprite compromise instead of diet coke), ate my own popcorn and I got the aisle seat without issue. It was amazing, exhilarating and liberating.
I get so excited when the daytime invite/opportunity pops up. It is the only time that I can go and see a chick flick. I have a date to meet my friend to see "he's just not that into you". It gets ok reviews, it has a cast I want to watch, all things in check.
Surprise! This may be the most depressing movie ever. First of all Scarlett Johanson is so can't put your finger on it sexy. She's not gorgeous, she's not skinny, she's just sexy. The kind of sexy that makes a white t-shirt and jeans look awesome. Of course her character sleeps with the married man, thanks Hollywood.
You have the pathetic single girl, who just doesn't get it. We all have been her at one time or another in our lives. Yes she does end up happy in the end, but she gets the crap beat out of her emotionally before that can happen. It takes the guy on the other hand about 3 minutes of movie time, that seems about right.
There is the girl in the happy but not officially committed relationship. They break up get back together and live happily ever after.
So basically the girl who's life ends up completely miserable and screwed up is the married girl. You feel bad for her from the get go. While her world ends in divorce which is supposed to be okie dokie, bullshit.
Why in everyone one of these relationships the woman has to go through unbelievable heartbreaking crap in order to be happy? Why are women depicted as beings that can only find happiness after being beaten into the ground by the opposite sex? Why isn't the book about understanding women a New York Times best seller?
I think Hollywood should make a movie where there wife wins the husband loses, doesn't mean they get divorced. The girl blows off the guy, end of story. Every guy that you ever dated still dreams about you. Scarlett Johanson isn't the other woman, she is THE woman. Women are happily married and they are adored by their husbands. Why is the wife never the HOT one? Every box of chocolate has all of your favorites, no bad bites.
And the most important part of the movie THE MAN CRIES.

I would like to thank the Academy for my fabulous film that made every woman feel great and was worth the $12.50. I would also like to thank all of the real women out there, I hear ya sistas. I am woman by Helen Redding plays as I leave the stage of the Kodak Theater.

Life is Just One Big HA!!

2009-02-08T20:46:04-05:00

I understand the whole concept of Murphy's Law, I just don't always want to live it. I have worked my tush off on the kids rooms. I have conquered the wallpaper monster. I have looked the evils of the built-in, straight in the eye. I have laughed at the unsuspected discovery of severe water damage.

I never would have expected to find what I woke up to on a beautiful Sunday morning. If I haven't mentioned before my children have a propensity to puking. lt has been awhile since the puke monster has paid a visit outside of a mode of transportation (our last run in was courtesy of Jet Blue). I am trying to sleep in on this Sunday morning, or at least til 8:00. The planets were not aligned, they had a different plan for me this fine morning.

It started with Thing 2 screaming to Thing 1, "get Mommy, she needs to come here". I hear this thinking, what could possibly be preventing her from getting me herself. I run through my mental list and none of the options are good. I gingerly make my way to Thing 2, I am not getting a good feeling.

I enter the room that I have just spent a week, spackling, sanding, repairing, and painting, only to discover the puke monster and his evil doings. It is everywhere, I mean everywhere. I barely glance over at Thing 2 and the fact that she has slept in this situation. My walls, my baseboards, my god! Did the exorcist take over my daughters body? Only a power of evil could have strewn such yuck all over my canvas of spa gray (what I like to call the color of serenity that engulfs the walls). Through all of my immediate panic and distress Thing 2 is still lying in the decimated room watching Sponge Bob, as if all is well with the world. Personally I can't imagine what the hell could be so entertaining about a talking sponge that a puke filled room wouldn't bother me.

I guess the same thing that makes it possible for Thing 2 to hang out in her regurgitated palace is the same power that suspends my gag reflex long enough to clean it up.

My New Found Domesticity

2009-02-04T21:37:03-05:00

With all of the home renovations I have found myself in quite the nesting mode. With the fifth season of Top Chef well underway, the cooking bug has bit me on the ass. My culinary skills are not too consistent, you won't be seeing me on season 6. This has all been compounded by our new found interest in expressing our Judaism. We have started having Shabbat dinner, since Thing 1 has started Hebrew school. We figure that no matter what, it is a nice family tradition. Not Zac thinks of it as a new food group to obsess about, Challah, too this too that. I now spend all Friday running around in preparation for the big event. Candles, Challah, blah, blah, blah.

What to make, what to create? I started a new tradition, each child gets to pick out what they want from the cook book.
Thing 2 goes first, salmon and noodles an Asian flair. Ok this seems doable. I've only made salmon once before but I will give it a whirl. The result is a moderate success. Couldn't really ask for more. Thing 2 thinks I'm awesome, yippee!

Thing 1 gets to pick. He flips through the magical cookbook as if the pages are speaking the magical words of Moses that helped him part the red sea. What does he land on, my 100% Hebrew school attendance child. PORK TENDERLOIN, with pineapple. Ok, now what? Does he understand what he is asking of me. I eat roast pork fried rice, spare ribs, chorizo, etc. I have never sat down and dove into a full sized piece of pork. I am not kosher, yet there are certain unwritten rules that I have never defied. I decide to give it a try, what's the worst that could happen? Grandma Yetta puts the fat thigh curse on me, already got it.

I need a butcher, this is not a supermarket purchase. I have multiple questions and requirements, I need the experience of the old country. I go to the place that Not Zac likes the hot dogs (his summer obsession). I scope out the display cabinets, I have no idea what I am looking for, the little signs aren't helpful. Finally its my turn, after the butcher finishes flirting with the elderly lady in front of me and complaining about some UES bitch on the phone. I ask for my pork tenderloin. The words barely make it past my lips. Am I really going to do this?

I head home with my well trimmed 2 pounds of the forbidden food. I start to prepare the marinade, I'm still ok. The time has come to rinse the pork loin. I repeat my can do it mantra, over and over and over. The room starts to spin, bile rises in my throat. I CAN DO THIS!!!!! Pork, its the other white meat. I coat the now cleaned by my own hands pork with the marinade. I put it on the the broiling pan that came with my stove 10 years ago. Now I have to turn on the broiler. This is where the big problem comes in. HOW? I push the button, nothing. I push it again, nothing. What the hell am I supposed to do, push more buttons. Finally I turn it on. The pork is supposed to be 4 inches from the flame, does that mean the pan or the actual pork? Crap! I decide to split the difference. What's that smell, oh that would be the smoke flames that are coming off of the devil's pork. All I can think of are my ancestors setting ablaze the evil meat.

After successfully charring the pork, I am ready to serve. I can't seem to get past the pork word. Spare ribs are spare ribs, fried rice the same, chorizo a different language. This is flat out, can't dress is up PORK.

My presentation is quite lovely, I used the top of the pineapple to plate, a trick my mother taught me. We dive in. Everyone keeps commenting on the pork. Do you like the PORK? I've never had PORK? Isn't it the other white meat? Is it healthy? That's it, I can't take it anymore. Can we stop talking about the PORK!!!!

The guilt of this meal is more than I can stand. I try to convince myself that it is ok, Thing 1 is beyond the moon that I made his pick. Inside I am pretty impressed that I actually pulled it off. I pray that the next pick is a non offensive pasta with olive oil. Thing 2 thinks if Pork challenge for a quick fire, I would do AWESOME!

My Container Store Obsession

2009-01-29T20:52:54-05:00

My home improvement mission moves forward like a baby taking its first steps, sometimes we stand and sometimes we fall. The destruction is proving to be quite a handful. In my previous life as an Interior Designer I sanctioned such destruction on a regular basis. This difference now is that I am doing the actual physical labor, it sucks!

The only place I seem to find comfort during these physically draining times is in The Container Store. It is my mecca, my happy place, and the bathroom is very clean. I enjoy my interaction with all who work there, they are actually helpful. I meander the rows of storage containers, contemplating the purchase of the gift wrap station. It seems like a great idea in theory. If I had more than one role of holiday paper that I have been using since my last trip to Costco, you can hardly notice the X-mas trees. I want to contain, I want to organize, I want to make the world a more efficient place.
My biggest love are the elfa systems. I have used them in every room and closet in the apartment. While working with the elfa expert she pulls up my file on the computer. I am actually embarrassed, this is the 4th system I have put in the kid's rooms. I don't know what it is about those wire shelves that I find so fulfilling. Is it the flexibility of a contortionist, the strength of steel, what is it? It is just a fabulous solution to my indecisiveness.

As my journey continues, life continues as well. With every day the project continues I fall under the scrutiny of my clients, Thing 1 and Thing 2. They walk in the room approve or disapprove of my progress. I had some tough and crazy clients in my day, but this is ridiculous. We've moved past the crying, the shouting, the demands. If it wasn't for my oath of unconditional love, I would walk off the job. Thing 1's room is nearing completion, my fingers are on the mend. I am preparing for the charge into Thing 2's room. I did spend an entire afternoon scrubbing off marker, pen and crayon. It is so wonderful that she can write her name so beautifully, maybe next time she can use paper.

So I move on with my shower cap upon my blown out locks, Thing 2's swim goggles, and my face mask. It may not be a pretty picture, it is the sacrifice I make for my children. My only wish is that Thing 2 had bigger goggles, I still have the imprint on my forehead.

Home Improvements, 101

2009-01-14T20:16:08-05:00

My new year's resolution was to get our apartment in order. The kids are getting older, their needs are changing, and their room freaks me out. Having two kids and a dog, our apartment takes on some serious wear and tear. We renovated 8 years ago, now things are falling apart around me.

Not Zac isn't Mr. Fix It, nor does he want or attempt to be. His answer is to have someone else do it. The problem is that it is easier said than done. Our job is too small for a contractor and too big for a handy man, it still has to get done.

I hit my breaking point, I want the job done. I can do this. In my grand design I have to remove the wallpaper and the chair rail from Thing 1's room. I try my hand at the chair rail, how hard can it be? The answer is a lot, my attempt results in a hole through the wall and the chair rail still in tact. I move on to the wallpaper. I start to pull it off, what's that fuzzy stuff left behind on the wall? I go to Home Depot, I look for my helpful orange apron authority. I find Mr. Nasty who informs me that they no longer carry any products related to wallpaper, seriously. This isn't the smiley faced helper that wants to make my foray into home improvement a pleasurable and problem free experience. After I recover from my defeat at the Depot, I plot on.

I go to the local paint store, they have what I need and assure me, no problem. I'm empowered, ready to tackle the task at hand. I get to work. Within 5 minutes I realize that this sucks and is so not easy. Note to self, ballet flats are definitely not the proper footwear for this activity. Well, there is no turning back, I keep on trucking. It takes me 3 hours to remove about 8 feet of wallpaper and quite a bit of the actual wall. This is definitely not part of my grand plan. The special glue remover that is supposed to make this easy breezy, is also removing the out layer of the epidermis on my hands along with some of the glue.

I am standing in my son's room looking around at the disaster that I have created. Did I just destroy the little boy's room that I spent my entire pregnancy designing? Can I actually pull this off? The kids are in for a surprise.

Turns out I am the one that is surprised. Thing 1 walks into his room and breaks down. What did I do to his room? He loved his wallpaper. He loved his disaster room. This is completely unexpected, crap. I thought he would be so excited. Now I am trying to bribe an 8 year old with my plans of grandeur. After shedding his crocodile tears of guilt, he finally concedes that he will get over it. It didn't hurt that he told Thing 2 that his room is going to be so way cooler than hers, great. Thing 2 then freaks out that I am going to ruin her room next. I must be missing something here.

To sum up my progress so far; I have unsuccessfully removed the char rail molding, removed a mere 8 feet of wallpaper, removed at least 3 layers of sheet rock, and no longer have any extra epidermis on my fingers, and destroyed my child's beloved room.

Did I mention that not only can I not turn back, but I can't move forward. Thing 2's day of destruction will have to wait until I have regenerated some skin on my fingers.

18 days for Winter Break, YES I Said 18!!!!

2009-01-07T20:36:15-05:00

I would like to apologize for not counting my blessings. Apparently the holidays are supposed to be filled with love and family and friends. I don't have enough bars in this area, I missed the call that the magical fairies will be in charge this year. I have reality service.

The first week of break was filled with holiday parties, cookie baking, latkes, candles, presents, family events, and play dates. All of these activities take their toll. One by one we all went down. Thing 1 went first, then Thing 2. It was when my overload lead to the flu, that was the end.

I knew it was coming, fast and furious. I was too exhausted to fight the powerful flu. As I crawled to the couch and planted myself there, Thing 1 and Thing 2 gathered around as if they were looking at the new exhibit at the zoo. We have never seen this before, what do we do? Thing 2 brings me a blanket, pillow and stuffed animal. I spend the day drifting in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, during my dazed state, Thing 2 puts a thermometer in my mouth. As this is a very sweet and nurturing gesture, I suddenly realize that she has put the anal thermometer in my mouth. I am awake and freaking out, I know where it has been. Thing 2 grabs the thermometer starts crying and drops it on the floor. Of course it breaks, hopefully the mercury will not affect my performance on Broadway.
If I were Lindsay Lohan I would have been sent away for exhaustion and pampered at some spa. Instead I get to lie on the sofa and have an anal thermometer in my mouth.

We venture to Florida for the last week of "vacation". I end 2008 with my final meal at the Grand Luxe, the fancy version of the Cheesecake Factory, in the MALL. Is this really how I will say goodbye to 2008 next to the oxygen deprived, yes it is.

Our stay in Florida is very predictable. Not Zac has to go to the Mall every moment he can, only to be side tracked by the opportunity to visit the new Super Target. Final answer, Super Target isn't so fabulous. As with anything there is a level of routine, the kids get popcorn that's too salty, Not Zac looks at the C9 shirts and I check out the new designer for Target bags. It is relatively exciting for city folk who don't get to do this very often.

We spend hours at the pool, eat frozen yogurt religiously, visit the local Hibachi restaurant, and the kids don't seem to need sleep. Oh, all good things must come to an end.

We begin our journey back to the Big Apple. We board the brand spanking new Jet Blue airplane. I no longer travel with DVD players and movies just headsets. We love jet blue, cartoon network can get us to New York without any whining. We sit in rows 8 and 9. The plane it ready to take off, our TV's don't work. Not Zac and I begin to panic. Out of all of the rows and all of the seats, ours falls into the 4 rows that do not have working TV's. This can't happen, we don't have a back up plan.

Not Zac discovers 4 seats in the back, only 2 of them are together. Thing 1 and Thing 2 are now sitting by themselves, next to an unsuspecting gentleman. I am sitting in front of them and Not Zac is in a row on the other side by himself. All is well, but I don't realize until later that Thing 2 has had 3 cans of Apple Juice. Have I mentioned that Thing 1 and Thing 2 have a tendency to get a touch of motion sickness. Suddenly the gentlemen taps me on the shoulder to alert me that Thing 2 is vomiting all over the place. Ok, I can handle this. I clean her up, settle her down and return to my seat. Then I get another tap, Thing 2 has sneezed out a weeks worth of chlorine. The gentlemen gives her a tissue. I thank him profusely. I settle back down, then suddenly I get the tap again. Thing 2 is vomiting again. Is this man a glutton for punishment? I know I have a middle seat but does he really want to sit next to my monster that is spewing form her orifices?

We finally arrive back in the cloudy dreary NYC, YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!! It's good to be home. The first day back to school was awesome!!!!!

The Holidays are Sucking the Life Out of Me!!!!!

2008-12-18T22:25:58-05:00

How is it something can be so wonderful for some and so much work for others? Thing 1 and Thing 2 think that this is the time of year is the best ever, as it should be. Here in Mom-ville it is our busy season, this is the big league. Only a seasoned professional can survive with only a few melt downs (I don't mean the kids). The kids love it all, decorations, parties, the traveling, and of course the presents. What they don't understand and no kid does, is that this magical time of year is carefully orchestrated. I started preparations the day after Thanksgiving. Dates, menus, guest lists, the works. I spent 2 hours cleaning eight nights of wax off of 6 menorahs. Why 6 menorahs? God forbid anyone should share, and you have to be prepared for guests. Why didn't I do this last year? After eight days, I was so over it. Chanukah is the ultimate Groundhog Day holiday. For eight nights you light candles, open presents, make thanks you calls, and eat Latkes. Sometimes it even goes on longer. We relive it when we visit Grandma. Chanukah has the power to transcend all confines of the calender. Yippee more stuff for the spoiled children. I'm sure that the intentions of the Maccabees when they defeated King Antinochus was, wouldn't this be a great way for kids to get stuff.Food is very much a part the Groundhog Day festivities. For some of our Christmas friends it is ham and egg nog. For the Jews it's Latkes. These fried bundles of love, are quite challenging to say the least. Thing 2 is very upset that we are not making our own, I order them. He made them in class and just doesn't see what is so difficult. Well for starters I don't have 18 children peeling a billion potatoes and grating onions. I also don't possess a clean up crew that will be cleaning oil off of the kitchen cabinets for the next 4 months.

I remember my mother shopping in august for the holidays so she could avoid the rush. She was a brilliant orchestrator. Times were different back then, they didn't have super duper coupons. It is the temptations of the sales that send me to fifth avenue one week before Christmas, fighting the tourists buying snow globes. Martha Stewart was no where to be found. It was a simpler time back then, dip in a sour dough loaf was so innovative.

As a mom, I long for the days when dip in a pepper was special, and could count on the ugly sweater from the aunt that didn't realize you weren't six anymore. Those days are long gone, they have been replaced by over functioners just trying to get by.

The iPhone is Awesome, Weather Permitting

2008-12-11T21:01:38-05:00

My electronic history is ... I have the first generation of everything, except I get everything when the second generation comes out. It's Not Zac's way of justifying the next generation purchase. As we all know the first generation of anything always has a few bugs, to say the least. I've excepted the fact that I will not know the thrill of removing the factory shrink wrap. When the next generation of the iPhone was released I was thrilled. My former phone no longer possessed a working "W", which turns out to be more of a player in communication than I had given it credit for. It made me realize that "W" should absolutely be one of the chosen on "Wheel of Fortune".

I have had my iPhone for awhile now, it works fine except for a few minor glitches, that is to be expected. I am walking the kids to school, which we do everyday rain, sleet or snow. It is a freezing cold day, to be expected in December, and Thing 1 has guitar. We are all bundled up, hats, gloves, scarves, mittens, and a guitar. We are finally on our way and the phone rings. I manage with my mitten hands to extract it from my puffy coat pocket, I can't answer it. I have a guitar in one mitten hand, Thing 2 in the other. I juggle the guitar on Thing 1 and press the phone, nothing happens. I press it again nothing, I try using my chin, nothing. Thing 1 has those fold back gloves, I have his guitar the least he can do is press the square for me. Goal achieved, yippee! Wouldn't want to miss breakfast with the girls.

Now I have identified a serious flaw in the iPhone, forget whether or not you can access your ebay account, or email pictures of the kids, you need to lose a digit in the depths of winter to answer a phone call.

Just when you thought the game was over, apple comes out with the "iGlove". They are gloves with little dots on the end of the thumb and pointer finger. Now you can dial, type, retrieve, all in the warmth of your new gloves.

Dear Steve Jobs,

What I still can't figure out is how I can accidentally hang up the phone in my pocket, yet you can only make a phone call in the cold using your new stretchy dot gloves.

Regards,

Confused

Survival of the Fittest, a Journey Through Bloomingdale's

2008-12-07T21:04:23-05:00

I am doing my normal walk through Bloomingdale's, the best way to get from 3rd-lex, I also happen to be armed with a take an additional 20% coupon (just in case). Entering through the 3rd avenue side is a little more work, due to poorly timed renovations. You must first navigate through the men's shirt and tie department. Men (for the most part are not savvy shoppers), they're in the aisles, they're wandering aimlessly with there eyes glazed over. Watching them is like an episode of national geographic, and the tag line would be, considering how they hunt and gather it's a wonder that the species survive.

Most men have a uniform, they have a shirt they think is fabulous, they'll have 20 more just like it. Even Not Zac,who shops like a woman doesn't posses a lot of diversity in his wardrobe, he just doesn't realize it. They move about very slowly, I don't have time for this.

I duck and swerve through the department to run smack into the perfume offensive line, do I go left, right, or straight? It doesn't matter they have extreme coverage. I take a deep breadth, go straight. After a little jostling and polite no's, I break clear. Only to be nose to nose with the day tripper crowd.

The day trippers arrive from whatever suburb they inhabit to partake in the shopping festival. They can be easily spotted by their uniform. You might think, how can you differentiate the tourists from the day trippers? Its all in the accessories. The day trippers are walking around in their full length furs, full face of makeup, hair in a do, some very recognizable logo designer bag, and jeans. I almost forgot the best part of the uniform, the excessive amount of glitzy jewelry. I think they can't leave their cul de sacs without their electronic tennis bracelets, this way they can be located in case they get lost in the shoe department.

There is also the tourist sect. They are purchasing those plastic, bloomie's bags, in every size. I guess its the same as when you see all the lady's using their Harrod's bags for their odds and ends. They have a love of all "Juicy" items that come in a box, so does Thing 2 but she's 5 1/2. Lastly they are taking pictures of their entire experience, step by step.

Then you have the natives, armed with coupons and offers. Do my eyes deceive me? Is that a pair of Chanel black heels on sale 40% off, and you can use extra coupons? We may be heading into the worst recession ever but Chanel on sale, that is just an X-Mas miracle. I think I may have whip lash, I don't know where to look first. You'd think they were giving the stuff away, they practically are. Everywhere you look there are little red sale signs 40% off. A good deal is worth a couple of elbows to the chest.

Shop wisely and wear comfortable shoes, its a jungle out there.

I'll Follow You, If You Follow Me

2008-12-02T15:09:57-05:00

There is a degree to which social media escapes me. It seems people want to be followed, strange since stalking is usually not a welcome activity. Natasha told me that I should check out various sights and get people to follow me, a great way to build up traffic to my sight. OK, so far I had done everything she has told me and it was going alright. It took me a little while to even catch on to the concept. I am supposed to text everything I am doing. I just didn't get it! I can only be pithy for so long. I decided before I jump in to the wrong end of the pool, I'll sit back and observe.

I discovered the strangest thing. There was a whole world out there of people following other people, all day long. People were literally texting their every move. Being interesting or funny didn't matter, it was just day to day stuff. What I couldn't figure out how they could go through the day and type at the same time.

Natasha scolded me for not being more active. I tried to explain that I can't walk through the streets of Manhattan texting my every move, I'm going to get hit by a bus. Do people really want to know that I had to go to three stores to find the laundry detergent with the fresh rain scent? That the mighty putty is not solving my leaking dryer issue. I'm in aisle 3, sale on Fruit Loops. Where do you draw the line?

I would say that for my immediate close friends I happen to know all of this information. I know one friend was at the post office, the other on the way to the movies, doctor's appointment, etc. It's knowing all of this information about people I haven't spoken to in years or never even met, that's so strange.

I have noticed that a common theme is the weekend. So busy, so tired, so hungover, so happy, etc. Everyone is looking forward to it, then dreading Monday, then back to the weekend.

The question then becomes, what do I do with all of it? I found myself wadding a few times into the water of so and so is.... Do I wait for a response? Do I post another note? Then people send you stuff. What am I supposed to do with that? The first few times I checked it out, they ended up leading me to strange ads with enticing tag lines such as; "two people have a crush on you and three people hate you". Then of course I can take some love life test. Personally ads that include people hating me, not a big selling point. After calling Natasha and explaining the evils I uncovered, she told me to ignore it. Easy for her to say, three people don't hate her.

So be on the lookout, I am going to the Food Emporium, need milk.