A Question For The Lawyers


If I get a “no solicitors” sign and hang it on the gate out front, does that mean I get to shoot them on on my doorstep?

Or maybe I have to wait for them to cross the threshold?

Mother Earth Can Kiss My Ass: Integrity Blows


For those of you unfamiliar with Little League, the season is over. We are now involved in what is known as “Fall Ball”. I don’t typically say “we” when it comes to children’s sports, but I assure you “we” are involved in fall ball. The kids play for a couple of hours each Sunday and the parents cheer and take stunning pictures of their little boys. Why? Because little boys in team uniforms are absolutely adorable, squishable and oooohhh yummy.


You are the only mother there whose child has dingy white pants because every part of your heart and soul knows that bleach is about vanity and kicks the crap out of Mother Earth. Then the PMS kicks in… so I’m fighting back tears standing in the aisles of the grocery story and I called Lolita, “Alexander’s pants are brown, my son slides into every base and I don’t know what to do.” She hemmed and hawed, and said, “I use Tide, but I know you like things to be eco friendly…” and while she was still talking, I was tossing Tide into my grocery cart. You see, I know Lolita and she has two boys and they have sparkly clothes, so I was in.

This is how the pants started out:

I tried used Tide and ended up with this

Naturally the first questions were, “did Tide pay you to say that?” and “did they send you samples?”

Answers: No, Tide did not pay me to do anything. No, they did not send me a sample.

Blanket Answer: When I get samples of products they typically end up at The Interfaith Food Pantry.

I know those are just iPhone pictures, but trust me, I went to Little League with my camera and my son, and I sat in the bleachers with the best feeling any mother could ever have. The feeling of knowing that I’m a better housewife than you are.  My kid had an amazing play in the outfield, but by then his pants were stained again, so I wasn’t feeling quite as perky. Offhandedly I mentioned to Jane that I was happy about Alexander’s pants being so white, and the Tide had worked well and she interrupted me with:

Mo-om that is the worst thing you could do for the planet. Tide takes fifteen years to go back into the ground. I told you go to Gelsons and get the stuff that’s good for the planet.

My daughter is furious, and with one swipe she takes the wind out of my clean-pants-glory filled sails.

I do exactly what any self respecting Mommy Blogger worth her salt would do in the same situation. I called Tide’s PR folks. [shut up and stop laughing] I happen to know that there are more than a few Moms on the Tide account and that they would know how to talk to my daughter. An incredibly sensitive email was sent to my daughter, who was delighted, that included some simple facts about Tide being phosphate free and concentrated. There was mention made of their cold water wash, and it was just the perfect letter for a ten year old. I was so hopeful, and when I logged onto her email account (yes I read my children’s emails and I recommend you do too) here’s the reply I saw:

Thank you for sending me that email but I have heard that it takes 15 years
for Tide to go it to the ground and… Well yeah.

In case you are worried about me, I’ve found the perfect solution. I’m hiding all the laundry soap from my kid. Mother Earth can suckit, I like sparkling white clothes.

Oh and also, we won’t be going to Rock A Little Feed A Lot, because even though my family would have loved seeing Sheryl Crow perform live, I don’t think that giving America Frankenfood solves the hunger issue. It does however, explain why our children are morbidly obese.

Sometimes My Train of Thought Hits A Bump In The Road


My family loves sports. My husband loves Major League Baseball, as do my children. I love my family. Recently we were at a Dodger Game and I noticed something.

Dodgers LaundryI really am impressed by it, and if anyone from Major League Baseball would care to let me know, I’d be thrilled.

I also have some questions about ironing. I noticed (with the Yankees in particular) that some of the players have a nice crease on their sleeves, while others don’t. How is that decided? Is it player preference? Do you starch their uniforms or is there an extra seam?

One last baseball question? How come these guys can’t pick up their own bats? I know they’re famous and all, but really? After they strike out they can’t bend over and pick up their own bat? Would that be too much to ask?

No Espeake the English: Y Tambiem mi Espanol is terrible


Mid day Friday I borrowed Mom and Doc’s* urban assault vehicle truck so that I could buy an outdoor shed. I located exactly the shed I’d wanted on Craigslist and popped an email out to Gladys (the lady who listed it for sale). The emails were brief and to the point. At the appointed hour, with my Latina friend I hopped into the truck to retrieve my new (and cheap) shed.

Trust me when I tell you that this is going somewhere and that the Latina description matters.

I’d agreed to the $250 price tag, and Gladys reminded me to bring small bills. She doesn’t like 50’s and hundreds. Red flag? For a more astute woman, yes. For me, notsomuch.

Maya and I hopped into the car and headed up the 405 all the way to the 118. As I was turning into the driveway in Doc’s truck Maya looked at me and said, “the car’s too expensive. She’s going to want more money.”

Oy! Maya is usually right about people too. I park the car in the driveway, count out $250 and jam it in my pocket, not one extra penny is in there. We approach the front door and hear the television blaring. When Gladys finally comes to the door I’m absolutely mesmerized. Gladys might be 60 with black and silver hair that hangs to her waist, she’s wearing shorts and crocs, there is blood gushing down her leg from mid-calf to ankle, but that’s not the most remarkable thing.

Gladys has pendulous breasts that sway as we talk. I find myself staring at her seemingly nipple-less breasts that reach her waist and end as abruptly as her hair. I’m certain that Gladys thinks there was a suburban lesbian couple undressing her with their eyes. I’m the owner of a pair of natural breasts, released from the confines of a sturdy bra, they look a little different than when they began, but I don’t imagine other women would be so taken with them. I still don’t have words for Gladys and two cantaloupes that appeared to be hanging from a set of socks. I know I stared, I wondered, you would have too. They were unlike anything I’d seen before.

I was dumbfounded, slackjawed, rude and terrified. I think it’s a well established fact that I’m a bit of a narcissist. If Gladys is my future, I’ll have a bra surgically attached to my body. Truly, it was frightening.

Maya and I followed Gladys around to her side yard. We walked past dozens of bottles of chlorine and acid for the swimming pool as well as stacks of empty two litre bottles.

Mira, Maya whispered.

Yo sabe, I whispered back.

We got to the shed, it was in it’s original box and leaned up against the concrete block wall.

“Here it is”, Gladys said, “I don’t think you two can lift it yourselves.”

Uh yeah, Gladys we totally can. As Maya and I each grabbed one side of the box and lifted the odor of cat urine wafted up and attacked our noses simultaneously. We dropped the box together, in an unspoken pact, we weren’t taking it anywhere, not one inch.

“Jessica es muy susio.”(Jessica, it’s very dirty) Maya said.

“Si, es no bien en el carro.” (Yes it’s no good in the car) I replied.

“Dice a ella tu no habla engles” (Tell her you don’t speak English) Maya said.

“Si pero yo solo sabe pocos palabras en espanol.” (Yes, but I only know a few words of Spanish)

“Tcch, habla muy rapido. Ella no comprende nada.” (Tcch, speak quickly. She won’t understand anything)

And we did. El cielo es amarillo y los gatos tienen comida por la noche. (The sky is yellow and the cats have food for the night) We babbled and giggled and acted like a couple of shits while pretending we couldn’t lift the box or speak any English. We practically bowed and apologized and said “No espeake de engles” as we backed out of the yard.

I’ve ordered a shed online. Free delivery.

*Doc is my Mom’s husband, I strongly suspect he spends a good bit of his day wondering how/why he married into this group.

Overheard: In my Sexy Voice


4pm Thursday Afternoon I call my husband’s office.

ME: Hi, can I speak to him?

ASSISTANT: Uh, I think he’s in a meeting.

ME: It’s okay, I’ll be quick and I just need his input for something time sensitive.

Hold music for a moment….

HIM: Hi honey. Is it important? [I can hear that I’m on speakerphone]

ME: Uh, yeah, if you could just pick up the phone for a minute, it’s sort of personal.

[I can hear him pick up the reciever]

ME: I can make you regular chocolate chip cookies tonight or I can can make chocolate cookies with white chocolate chips, but I need you to make a decision.

And then the phone line went dead. Completely and utterly dead. I looked out the window and I didn’t see any power lines out.

Sometimes it’s all very confusing.