Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

I know the fucking alphabet.

I didn't get the job and it feels a lot like I've hit rock bottom here.

I know the alphabet. I can put papers in alphabetical order. Why can't I get a job?

And it's so not that I'm over qualified. I'm so totally underqualified it's ridiculous.

I'm so underqualified apparently I can't even be hired to file papers.

The new year now starts with a sobbing and hung over Melissa S.

(Thanks Heather for the link. Even though you didn't ask permission. You helped me this year too.)

Resolutions.

Onto New Year's Resolutions. Last year my resolutions were really fucking hard. Worthwhile, yes. I followed through on them and woo hoo. No more diapers! AND Debt No More!

This year I'm going to go with things that are a little easier.

*I will conquer my phone phobia, maybe I'll even start ordering pizza. Also I will answer the phone when my mother calls at least 50% of the time.

*I will never again live without a working internet connection for more than 24 hours.

*Eat all that mayo left over from Lice Fest 2004. I will have to eat all this mayo myself since mayo makes Logan sweaty with rage (!!!)

*Force Logan to grow back his goatee. He's handsome all ways, but with facial hair he's just so hot. Without it, it's just way too reminiscent of Mr. Rock and Roll Hair, and come on.

*I'm going to stop acting so horribly awkward when people hug me. I have come to appreciate warm people who embrace you just because they're happy to see you. I used to hate it and think it forward. But now I've become more continental and I like the hug. But I hug like a retarded and grandmotherly robot. Plus, I do this really annoying back tap while I hug. Tap-Tap-Tap.

*I'm going to take an active role in adding money to our family finances and continue to live within my means. I will also continue to suck the life out of Logan insisting he sell his soul to the devil so I can have all my nasty material wishes fullfilled.

*More friends who play euchre.

*Continue linking all over the internet without asking for permission even if someone tells me not to.

*Irritate the International MOMS Club® with an endless. stream. of unapproved. links.

That is all. Have a wonderful New Year's Eve may it be full of all classes of lice killing agents. Or better yet, free of any lice at all.

While We're Apart.

Monday.

My cable modem won't be installed until Monday between 4pm and 6pm. I won't have internet service until next year.

You know what is most amusing about my $5 parking ticket (and yes, I was sitting in the van at the time but I was hiding in the back because I am shamed by this hellish addiction I have to the internet. I could have moved the car, it's true, but I wasn't done yet) at the Brewery yesterday? I could have, I don't know, put a quarter or two into the meter and say, gone inside and had a pint for the same price. What is wrong with me. Oh right, I didn't go in because we had plans and I didn't have time to leisurely drink a pint of beer and check my email at a bar.

We have children who require near constant entertaining. Speaking of entertaining. We took the kids downtown Detroit today to see the Detroit Historical Museum. We spent $6 (including parking) and entertained the children for 3 hours with a small streetscape and huge train exhibit.

Afterwards we drove around Detroit and Detroit, I'm going to try really hard to be nicer to you. I can see you're trying and I'm sorry about all the mean things I've said about you this year. Campus Martius makes me want to ram my tongue down your throat Detroit. It's beautiful and I'm not just saying that.

We're having our first play date since Lice Fest 2004. Madison hasn't played with any of her friends since Tuesday December 14th. There will be Bloody Marys consumed because the moms attending this play group deserve the Bloody Marys as much as I do (and really the only way I'll deserve the Bloody Marys is if I get a certain phone call from a certain person who gives me the best news of my year....a job). Between us we've had pink eye, lice, flu, bronchitis, 15 hours in the ER with a suspected blood clot in a lung all over the last two weeks. Merry Fucking Christmas!

Tonight we're playing euchre, after we played euchre Tuesday night. It was a tournament and I came in third place which was no small feat considering the couple who came in first and second were a)pregnant and so, not drinking and b) REALLY SERIOUS ABOUT CARDS! (Jesus, stress me out.)

Between you and me and everyone else reading this right now my partner, Brett, stole just one deal from Mike because Mike was a little drunk and didn't notice and I wanted to spill it but, you know, it was sort of funny to steal a deal from Mike since he was making fun of me for being a little tipsy and I may have been but no one stole my deals.

Also, I didn't come in last place because I rule the Euchre table.

Finally, something disturbing Logan and I have started to do in bed each night before we go to bed. This is keeping us up for an hour after we crawl into bed and I've come to embrace my extreme nerdiness but this is really pushing it and I won't even try to tell you we're going to stop doing it.

When I told my mom we've been playing Text Twist in bed each night she said, "Oh, is that what you kids are calling it these days?"

I'm writing this at a coffee shop and I guess I thought we all had an understanding about the coffee shop and our laptops. I thought we all agreed to put our games and such on mute so we wouldn't disturb other people in the coffee shop. People who are internet deprived at home and have to drive around like depraved lunatics stealing signals all over Royal Oak.

I'm asking because the entire time I've been typing this I've been hearing the computer sound byte titled 'Tsunami' as someone plays a game nearby. But then, it got worse when they started watching video clips of people screaming and laughing and I'm just wondering when did people get so rude?

I should just pay my $5 parking tickets and hide in the back of my minivan.

Maybe next year I'll try to be more patient.

Wait this is the year of easier resolutions.

This is getting expensive, and stupid.

Hey! Ticket #2 as I sat outside Royal Oak Brewery reading blogs.

Help me. I've lost my mind.

(Also, the minivan makes a nice comfy office. Who knew?)

Guess Where I Am?

I'm parked outside the birmingham public library because I can pick up their signal out front and I don't have time to lollygag around inside. I'm a very busy woman.

Why aren't I just at home you wonder.

We made a foolish and very unplanned decision to drop our home phone line and go all cell. Which means no dsl and of course we didn't plan it out very well so it's taking a week to get the cable line put iin and this is like having my face torn off and trying to hang out and have fun at a cocktail party with my guts hanging out on my face. It's that painful and awkward and surreal to have this laptop deflated of it's internet capability.

At least eight different times yesterday we thought of something, like I wonder if there's a template out there so we could design really cool cootie catchers? I had to go the entire night and then 6 more hours of daylight without knowing this information. I can't live without every bit of information at my fingertips at all times.

How come none of my neighbors have a wireless connection I could steal. Why am I sitting in front of the library catching a signal in my stupid minivan?

I'm sure going all cell will be fine but just wait, someone will break into my house and I'll only be able to dial 911 and they won't be able to trace my address as the intruder chokes me to death. Or better! I'll need to dial 911 and my battery will die as I start to spit out my address and boom...disconnected and there's no way to find me. I'm not convinced cutting our land line was a great idea. On top of that I KNOW typing this post in my minivan in front of the library is no way to close out the New Year.

But you know what would be a great way to end the new year? Getting the job I just interviewed for an hour ago. I wanted to surprise the Internet with a big announcement and a brand new skirt but instead I'm telling you now because I want this job so badly. I will die without it. Please God please.

Hey, I bet this is the first time anyone got a ticket while typing a blog post. I just got a parking ticket as I typed this.

Help. Me. Survive. This.

(and please let me get this job. Please.)

Sibling News.

Logan met a few of his siblings tonight to say good bye as one of them headed back home after the holiday. He called on his way home and said:

"Booty call for Liss."

Seriously, I love that.

Also, my sister? She has a band? And on her website they have paper dolls? And you should go see them because who knew my sister had the most 'back' of all her band mates.

Between you and me, Ike-ette is my favorite.

In other sibling news, my brother had to work for Christmas Eve. But even worse than working Christmas as a firefighter was telling my mother he wasn't coming up for the holiday.

In the email from his wife, whom I love in a deep and binding way: "Your brother, 'Run into a burning building? SURE!' however, 'Tell my mom I'm not coming home for Christmas? Uhm.......' "

Needless to say, I love my family but family just isn't the same without my brother and his wife.

Look I can't keep talking to you, my booty call is arriving soon.

Christmas 2004

Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning 2004

Gift Opening and The Favorite Gift (pirate ship).

Late in the day, still playing. Arrrr! and The Tower Of Capitalist Excess (in our kitchen!).

Here we started taking pictures for Maddie's new journal. Max was pissed off he didn't get to control the camera. Also a picture of Gary, the 'fat one' because that black blob there under his head is all his body. He's not fluffy, he's HUGE.

Maddie took both these shots. First you'll see me choking the cat. Second you'll see me kissing the cat. I have a confession. I think I've started to fall in love with our cats. Last week as I prepared for The Very Important Party Socks ran out the back door which mysteriously opened. When I thought of her out in the cold rainy night being beaten by all the street cats in our neighborhood I started to cry. Then, this week.....I can't believe I'm typing this. I considered divorcing Logan just so I can be a crazy cat lady.

Merry Christmas From The Cat Lady!

Conversation I Wish I Didn't Have.

Scene: Me in bathroom getting ready for bed. Logan in hallway.

Him: [muffled sound of some sort]

Me: Hmm?

Him: I didn't say anything.

Me: Oh my God you just farted didn't you?

Evaporated Milk

One day many years ago my brother and I were searching for something to eat and the cupboards were pretty bare.

Among the offerings was an inexplicable amount of evaporated milk.

At the time my grandfather was very sick with cancer and had a full time live in nurse. My brother called my mother at work and said, frantically into the phone:

"Mom! The nurse just called. She says grandpa needs evaporated milk right now! What do we do?"

And my mother, bless her gullible little heart, immediately, without ever asking why on earth a man dying of cancer would ever urgently require evaporated milk, said calmly and with authority, "Okay, go into the cupboard next to the stove. I have evaporated milk in the upper left hand corner. How much do they need? I have 9 cans."

It was as if she'd always known, someday grandpa would require evaporated milk to save his live so she stockpiled it and this, this was the culmination of all her dreams.

But then we laughed hysterically and my mother, my saintly mother, had been plunged into another of our jokes.

God bless her.

Last night was Buca night, and someone is impatiently waiting for me to write about it. I have two words for you: Hang and Over.

Saturday night where I had claimed I wouldn't talk about lice, but then, the minute I sat down and Cari asked me, "How are you?"

I said, "OH MY GOD!!!!! LICE LICE LICE!!!! And then! LICE LICE LICE!!!!!! You would not believe the LICE!!!!!"

I'm a wonderful conversationalist.

Last night I made it about 23 minutes without the subject of lice coming up. And Meg asked me, I didn't bring it up. The best part though was when Rebecca, bless her lice free heart, suggested I use a chemical shampoo. And then she took the beating I gave her quite well.

I don't really even know what I'll tell you about last night. You should know I consumed several beverages and I am about 50% embalmed at this time.

So for more you'll just have to wait. Sorry, I have nits to pick.

In other news: Does anyone want to babysit Thursday evening for my two adorable and incredibly well behaved children in my formerly lice infested but now unbelievably clean house?

Interesting, neither have the other 3 sitters we've asked. I can't believe we're going to miss a party. It hurts my soul.

Updates.

There is a problem with my phone, no not the phone I keep under my bed for 'solo conversations', the regular phone. This is only a minor inconvenience because I hate the phone and avoid using it at all costs and I have a cellphone.

However, someone was trying to get in touch with me today about a job I really want. Badly. And I couldn't get her call since my phone isn't working and because of Lice Fest 2004 I haven't had the time or energy to call the phone company to come out and figure out the issue. Plus I don't want to give the phone guy a raging case of head lice.

Thankfully I have an inside person, my sister, at this company and pray with me that I'll get a call on my cell phone tomorrow. Please. And please don't let it come through while we're at Buca celebrating the upcoming holiday with friends. Because, part of the lice treatment plan is soaking my liver in lots and lots of liquor.

How can this adorable child have lice?

As an update to the Lice Fest issue. I haven't seen a live louse on her head since last Wednesday. I've been pulling nits from her hair 2-3 times a day. I find about 5 or so at each sitting. The number seems to be going down. Do I just keep focusing on getting the nits and then do the second (homeopathic) Lice Freee! treatment at the 7 day mark as the package recommends? I'll just change her sheets every day, wash her coat everyday and give her a fresh pillow each night?

I don't know though, look again. I mean maybe I'm missing something?

On Friday I got my favorite holiday card ever from a friend who is trying very hard to make me move to Atlanta. Given my feelings about Thomas Kinkade, I was surprised by my love for this card.

But, look. The inside is 3D for the love of God.

Be honest, you're wondering what those people in their front yard are yelling to the people in the carriage. Maybe they're thinking about how cold it is. I wonder if they'll have some hot chocolate when they get inside. That's the thing about a Kinkade image, they really make you think.

The best ornament on my christmas tree is the 'Melissa Ornament' my parents bought for me when I was quite young. They bought it because I was a blonde and I often had that look on my face. Odd how it still fits. I'm sure the MOMS Club would agree. Heartily. Also let's note how my parents totally believe in stereotyping their children. I am, in my family and therefore in life, The Bitchy One. Ah well if the ornament fits....

The Post Where I Only Link To MOMS Club® Once.

We're going out tonight to The Bosco. (I hope they don't get angry with me for sending traffic to their site! AHHHHHHH!

I think The Bosco is Metrosexual Headquarters because Logan has been there several times and I've yet to go there. But I'm going tonight and I'm putting on my dancing shoes on, you know, the ones I wore to party like it was 1999. Literally.

I'm going to talk and drink and dance and I'm going to try really hard not to give my friends impromptu lice checks. Because it's way too dark to do that at a bar. Given the right lighting though, I think I might do it.

I've been picking nits from Madison's hair for so many days straight now I'm starting to dream about them. It's like a video game trying to find the tiny nits on her hairs. A really shitty video game that's no fun at all, but still. As I fall asleep at night I think about all the places the fuckers are hiding. I think about my laundry plan of action for the morning. I plan my treatment strategy as I have tiny anxiety attacks late into the night.

"Okay, tomorrow morning I'll go through her hair first thing. Then depending on the results, I'll try [fill in latest treatment item on list...don't worry no agent orange]. Then I'll wash her hair with the new tea tree oil shampoo. Then I'll blow it dry. Then I'll use that new curling iron I bought to fry thos little fuckers."

Someone in the comments suggested I might be totally repulsed by the sight of fried lice on a curling iron. When I read that I had no sense of disgust at that thought. I'm so beyond repulsion. I'm angry at the bugs and I would enjoy watching them be fried to death by a curling iron. In fact, I think that kind of death is too good for them. I'd like to see them attend a playgroup where someone goes on and on about breastfeeding and how great it is and how could you not do it....and it never ends because that's the kind of endless torture I would only wish upon my worst enemy and the lice are my worst enemy.

During the day as Madison plays around the house I find myself hallucinating the bugs. The bugs are waving. I hear them laughing. As she shakes her head or gets a lethal tendril near Max's bug free head I feel a sense of urgency and I want to scream, "For God's SAKE! Don't let your hair touch anything!!!!!"

It takes all my strength not to put a big cone around her neck.

I escaped the house today for the coffee shop, but still all I can think about is each of those little hairs on her head and the tiny nits on her follicles. And how I must get them off now. I'm about to head home and when I get there Madison will be very sad to see me because we're on a serious 1.5-2 hour nit check 3 times a day. That's a lot of hours she has to sit still and she's been so patient about it. Santa should bring her that trip to DisneyWorld (Nope, no permission!) but instead he's bringing her a cd player for her room. And a sleigh full of olive oil.

Madison is so eager to be through this yesterday she asked me why all her stuffed animals were bagged up in the garage and why her rug was hanging outside on the porch railing and I said, "The bugs don't like the cold so we're leaving all that stuff outside until the bugs die."

And she said, "Maybe I should stay outside until all the bugs are gone."

I love every louse infested hair on her sweet little head.

And, I'm sure she'll have a lovely Christmas in that tent out in the yard.

All I want for Christmas is a cease and desist letter.

Before this goes any further, the president of the local chapter of MOMS Club emailed me this morning because they "received an email from one of your "fans" claiming that we were hounding you about MOMS Club" She added the one she got "...yesterday was pretty nasty and foul..."

I just got a copy of the email forwarded to me and while I'd hardly call it "nasty" or "foul" (the MOMS need to toughen up a bit!) it is nonetheless totally uneccessary to email anyone on my behalf regarding this issue.

I appreciate the thought but the local chapter I have linked to on this website is not responsible for this harrassment. The International Organization is the only part of the group currently asking me, with threats of legal action, to remove the hypertext links from my website.

So promise me you won't send any more mail to the Berkley Chapter via their website. As I have repeatedly said there were (and still are) many women in the group I have liked, do like or at least respect. One of the people your hate mail has been directed to is one of the people in the group I do respect greatly.

Besides this is my disagreement and I intend to deal with it...and write about all the stupidity here. No email necessary!

Speaking of email!

Last night a few emails were shot my way from the same Area Coordinator who 'politely' asked me to remove the hypertext links to the Moms Club® website and the Local Chapter website.

She says, "While people do link to other websites and never ask permission, should one of the organizations or individuals you are linking to expressly forbid you to link their site, you are required to remove it."

According to what law is this the case? I'm extremely curious about this 'requirement'.

"We have had this issue within International MOMS Club® one other time and pursued legal action, so do know of what we speak." 

This is odd because I spent a few hours researching the legalities of hypertext links last night, and saw no mention of any case referring to International MOMS Club®. Perhaps I missed it, entirely possible.

"Per my higher-ups at International MOMS Club® you are once again being asked to remove any and all direct links from your website to the International MOMS Club® website as well as those to any local chapter of the organization.  I have been advised to let you know that should you ignore the request, MOMS Club's® lawyer will be contacted to pursue the matter further."

In my reply to this email I brought up this:

"I'm just surprised a non profit organization would take the time and money allocated to provide support to stay at home mothers to pursue making sure my little website doesn't hyperlink to the MOMS Club website."

I also brought up the fact that this type of email and the threats of legal action over a stupid link to their website tarnishes their 'image' far more than a hypertext link from my site ever could.

I also collected some links to send to Ms Asst. Area Coordinator, but then since I requested she not contact me further and instead had her organization's lawyer contact me with some sort of real legal issue, I thought it would be polite to give her the same consideration.

So I'll share here the information I found about the legal issues of links.

Alot has been written in Wired Magazine about the issue.

There was the issue about NPR's ridiculous link policy.

This one was titled, appropriately, A Big Stink Over A Simple Link.

Finally, this editorial is absolutely to the point.

A case which had gone to trial (in 6/02) is documented here. (He won his case.)

Some sites which clarify things like 'link law':

Chilling Effects

Google Directory.

Finally, my question for the MOMS Club® what exactly does my direct link to your website say about your organization? How will not having the link make any difference for the 'image' of MOMS Club®?

It seems to me this debacle is far more damaging to the MOMS Club® organization and it might be wiser to let it die and move right along rather than drag this out any further.

But then, that's just my two cents.

This post has ten links and I didn't ask for permission to use any of them. I'm a maverick that way.

This morning while delousing my daughter's head again. (6 new eggs!) I got this email.

Remember this woman had previously emailed me telling me it was fine since this is my personal website. They just can't get their stories straight. Silly women.

Melissa,

It has recently come to the attention of International MOMS Club® that
you have links from your website to both International MOMS Club's®
website and the Berkley, MI chapter's website. You do not have permission from either of this [sic] organizations to use their website
addresses on your personal website. By linking them, it gives the
appearance that International MOMS Club® and the chapter support your website, which is not the case. While the opinions are yours and can
freely be published, it is requested that you remove any links to these two sites.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.
Sincerely,
Cxxxx Sxxxxxx
Asst. Regional Coordinator
Michigan/Wisconsin

Really? Did any of you savvy internet users think that by linking to the MOMS Club® International website they were supporting my opinions or that this was an 'official' website of the MOMS Club® organization?

Because it isn't and I thought I made that clear but it appears the MOMS Club® organization isn't familiar with how this InterWeb works.

I hate George Bush but by linking to the white house website I don't give off the appearance that I'm somehow tied to the government. This isn't how things work.

Oh MOMS Club®, this is making you absolutely crazy and I'm sorry it is. I just can't stand being told what I can or can't publish on this website from people I have no desire to please.

Also, I linked to this lame-o website when talking about the Gossip Geyser and The FYI Era. I hope you weren't under the impression they supported this website. I don't know how you would have got that impression, since I now absolutely can't stand the entire organization, but if you did. Let's clear this up now.

Disclaimer: The links I provide on this website do not imply any official ties to the organizations I link. The opinions on this website are mine and mine alone. Any links I use are meant to share more information with you, the reader.

Now, cut it out you annoying MOMS Club® and you annoying group of busy bodies.

Hold your arms up....for scale!

Maddie has been under the impression she has headlights (head lice) in her hair.

How I wish she only had a few bright halogen bulbs sticking out of her hair. Because halogen bulbs aren't disgusting and they don't lay eggs and if the halogen bulbs won't leave her head alone, I could just create a really interesting track lighting system in my kitchen.

But instead she has the most vile and disgusting and stealth little fuckers in her hair.

Tonight I found myself SCREAMING at her head, GET THE FUCK OUT!!!!!!! But they won't listen. Apparently they don't respond to verbal threats OR chemical apocolypse.

Let me give you the run down of my last few days. Tuesday night I noticed Madison was still scratching her head and being the stupid retarded asshole of a mother I am, I thought to myself, 'Hey, Asshole. You might want to take this child with the itchy scalp to the doctor."

At that point I was thinking it was seborrhea (which as it turns out is a fancy name for dandruff. Who knew?). I thought the doctor might tell us to up the T-Gel and that would be that. But as I pondered calling the doctor I started fondling my lovely, clean, beautiful daughter's hair.

Huge mistake. If only I would have started the fondling her hair the following morning I may have gotten one nice normal night of sleep before my nightmare began.

As I fondled her sweet smelling (and oh so very clean) hair, I SAW SOMETHING MOVE!

And since I'm such a great mother I remained calm, depending on how you define calm.

I define 'remaining calm' as not screaming "JESUS CHRIST THIS CHILD SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN LET INTO THIS COUNTRY!!!!! SEND HER BACK TO IRELAND!!!!!!!"

According to Logan remaining calm doesn't involve saying anything like, "OH MY GOD!!!! SOMETHING JUST MOVED ON HER HEAD!!!!! GET ME A COMB!!!!!!!!"

Saying this didn't keep Madison calm either. She started crying and I started back tracking.

"Well Madison, I thought it was a bug but it was an ALL EXPENSE PAID TRIP TO DISNEY WORLD ON YOUR HEAD!!!!!"

Please tell me there is a Santa.

So, Tuesday night, when I unfortunately uncovered the Headlights on Madison's scalp, we started this hellacious journey. Except this is when the really great part starts! That big fat freelance check (which Logan earned by the way...did you think I'd get off my fat ass and make money? God!) had a hold put on it since it wasn't a payroll check and since that was being held there wasn't any cash in our checking account.

You're thinking, 'Just float a check until the funds clear.'

Ah, but you aren't a Stupid Fucking Summers like we are. We used our last check on Tuesday afternoon! Weeeeeeeeeee!

So off I went to borrow money from my mother. I'll tell you, you haven't lived until you've borrowed money from your mother to pay for the LICE TREATMENT on your child's head. Things are so totally awesome here. But you just wait! Things are getting even more awesome!

Tuesday night we stayed up until 12am vacuuming and changing sheets and vacuuming mattresses and at one point the children were crouching on the bathroom floor crying..."Oh...but we're tired....." (I am not kidding. They said that like some Dickens orphans.)

But I said, "You're not tired! You have lice you foul beasts and I'm going to use this (metal) comb (...as has been repeatedly recommended) until I get all those stupid little monsters off your head!"

Oh, surprise! Max had them too!

After we got everything cleaned up Logan went to bed and I sat by the light of the christmas tree and drank about 1.5 too many vodka gimlets and also used way more than my fair share of our narcotics stash.

The following morning I started my day by picking through my daughter's head looking for bugs to eat because at that point I'd become nothing but a common monkey. Unfortunately my diet was ruined when I found nits on her head and then, though I could have been coming off the acid trip from the night before, I saw another of THOSE FUCKING BUGS CRAWLING ACROSS HER MOTHER FUCKING SCALP!

Then I wished I might die.

But I didn't die. I called the pediatrician and asked what we should do now and she said, "You go to Costco and get yourself a jar of mayonnaise large enough you could dock your jet ski in it. Also, a similarly sized bottle of Makers Mark."

I followed Doctor's orders and bought a vat of mayonnaise, even though Logan hates mayonnaise with a fiery passion mostly reserved for republicans. It was only when I got it home that I realized, 'Wow, this is a lot of mayonnaise.'

This was a big barrel of mayo. Maybe that picture doesn't show you the sheer volume. For comparison, check out the bottle of Bell's Logan brought home for me tonight next to the Vat of Mayo.

Perhaps you still didn't get a feel for the size of the Vat O' Mayo. Here I hold my hands up for scale.

I combed and I slathered mayonnaise on my daughter's hair and then I picked and picked and picked and I swear to God above I got every one of those fuckers out of her hair in the two hours of picking I did.

And Thursday morning I checked again but not all that hard because I KNEW I got all of them the night before and we headed off to school.

I stopped at the office because I'm an honest type of person and I said, "My daughter had lice yesterday and I'm wondering if I need to do anything to get her back to class."

And the secretary wasn't there but the PTA president was and she said, "I'll need to check her hair."

So she did and OH MY FUCKING GOD! More nits!!!!!!!!

The PTA President, who I officially hate now, said to me, like I'm retarded. "Well you need to use a chemical shampoo on her hair."

And I said, "Golly! Really? Uh huh....no kidding? I never heard of one of them thar chemical shampoos. I done thought if I poured just a little vodka and lime juice on those critters, them varments'd go away on thar own. Hooooo Weeeee. You done learn somethin every damn day!"

The PTA President is now a dead rat on my desk with mayonaisse and Rid spread all over her carcass.

The rest is an ongoing saga. I did another chemical bomb on my daughter's hair which is apparently going to send her to the emergency room and quite POSSIBLY KILL HER!!!!!!! As if the formula feeding wasn't enough, I mean don't I love her enough? Now I'm going to Agent Orange her cute little arse. Will I never stop?

I went through her hair 3 times tonight and each time I found at least one nit.

I guarantee tomorrow I will call Mr Bush on my private line and tell him to just bomb my house because there is no other way.

Thankfully, Logan will be busy at a party so he won't have to be killed in the name of the Lice. Maybe he'll at least take Max with him. Maddie and I are going down.

Max and Lice Fest 2004

Max storms into his bedroom in the midst of a Late-In-The-Day-I-Could-Have-Used-A-Nap-But-My-Mother-Wants-Me-Asleep-At-8pm-For-The-Night Tantrum.

I'm sure you know the kind.

He slams the door and screams "I HATE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!"

Then, a minute later he says, "Mommy.....can you turn my light on?"

I'll be back soon. We're in the midst of Lice Fest 2004....which if you're making plans for your next big family trip, I'd say skip the Lice Fest because this is probably the worst thing I've ever endured in this parenting thing. It's disgusting and maddening and I'm so tired of vacuuming and washing and scrubbing and picking.

Seriously I think I've fallen off the deep end and I have to tell you. Remember how I said Logan's perfect? But I don't talk about the ways he's imperfect?

Time out.

He's absolutely stunned that I"m irritated with him today. You know since I spent all day cleaning every item in this house, after staying up until 1am doing the same thing the night before. Since I've boiled everything twice now and I had to slather my daughter's hair with Mayo yesterday and then scrub it out (not easy) and then I spent 2+ hours going through her hair and getting every god damn speck out of her hair and then this morning, finding more of those fuckers in her hair.

I know he has to work and that's fine. Except today there's an office party and he's so excited to go! I can't help but feel really resentful of the fact that he's going to a party while I sit here picking FUCKING NITS out of my daughter's hair.

But wait it gets better! After the office party, there's another party! So he's staying out all night too!

So that means I have one more day of insanity with no break and I know I said I wouldn't use this website to tear down my loving spouse.

But you know, as much as i understand how hard it is to be the Dad and to have to be the breadwinner, but not just the breadwinner....you have to be a great father and a supportive husband and that's a lot of balls to juggle and I know it's not easy.

But today I wish I was juggling the social balls while my wife was at home picking nits out of my daughter's hair and boiling all the sheets and brushes and combs.

God help me survive this.

**Update: Internet, I love you. Logan called moments after this was posted and he's staying at his first party for an hour and then coming home to help with the evening routine and continued delousing before going to his second party. I still rule. Who's husband gets to go to two parties (plus we're going to another party this weekend! And another a week from today!) but nonetheless the act of Jackassery has been amended to only be slightly agitating.

Also agitating? After the THIRD chemical bomb I set off on my daughter's head. (The second was an all natural Mayo Bomb) I FOUND ANOTHER LIVE LICE ON HER HEAD!!!!!!

What the fuck! These are Lice of the Apocolypse and I am going to die before they ever die. 1.5 hours of nit picking (literally) and her head is clear. I swear to God there are no more nits on her head. Please let this be the end. Please. Please. Please.

Please let my husband bring me a lovely six pack of Sierra Nevada....or maybe a Bell's. Or maybe I'll just drink Rid straight from the bottle.

Christmas Card Hell 2004 Edition

This year the Christmas card shoot wasn't that hard. I was almost looking forward to it with the new digital camera but I yearned for the quality of my canon rebel. So I went with film after all and thankfully the kids mostly cooperated.

Lori sent me this option back in October and it's quite funny isn't it. Can you believe people send me these things? I can't help but love you Internet, even though you call me a lazy whore.

I don't know if I've shown this shot on my website before but I don't think you'll mind the walk down memory lane.

Here I tortured Madison by putting her on Santa's lap. For the first time, for the last time.

The inside of our holiday cards that year read:

Santa: What would you like for Christmas little girl?
Madison: I'd like off your lap....immediately. Also, new parents who don't think this is really funny.

I actually got a nice shot of the kids this year and I'm putting it below the cut so that if you know me you can choose to either be surprised when my card arrives or you can peek and ruin all the fun you impatient American. Why does everything have to be Now! Now! Now! With you? God!

Random Things.

On Friday a piece of mail arrived in our home which made me drop to my knees thanking God above for saving our Christmas.

A lovely freelance check arrived on Friday and to celebrate we took the kids to our favorite restaurant, Royal Oak Brewery. At the restaurant our waitress fumbled our order and it took an hour and a half to arrive at our table. At first this had us fuming as our children cried out, "We're starrrrrrrr-viiiiiiing" But then when they paid for our meals and our beers, we felt much better and we're hoping this happens every single time we visit the Brewery.

(I must share my restaurant with child tips someday very very soon.)

While at the restaurant Logan took Max to the restroom, where Max yelled out from the stall:

"I see your hairy peeeeee-nisssss!"

Max humiliates and embarrasses me all the time, so I don't know, this made me happy.

We are going to be in a better place financially in the new year. This year was all about 'Debt No More' and that is happening. Not with out a painful severing of my former (irresponsible) self but I want you to know that all this talk about money and the struggle to come to terms with who I am and how I've created this mess is going to end this year. 2004 was about facing the reality of this situation and that has been harder than I ever imagined. 2005 is about picking up all the pieces and living within our means without credit.

I say this because I won't always be whining about money and no shoes and all of this. It's just hitting home right now as I transition to a new lifestyle which involves me being out of the house each and every day. Thanks for reading through all my whining.

Someone asked who designs my banners for my website. And I am very proud of myself that anyone thinks Logan designed my banner. He didn't! I did!

Using my primative Illustrator skills I've made each of my banners, minus the lovely Momtini. My friend Jerry, who recently had a birthday and I missed it because I am a horrible woman who can't look up from her own fucking life for two minutes to acknowledge anyone else's birthday. God, I hate me. No wonder I've gotten THREE pieces of hate mail this week!

But, did anyone notice the star of David on the Christmas tree? This is a nod toward my dreams of a particular part time position which is tantalizing me with it's inability to be mine. Logan made the star of David and put the gradient on it because that goes well beyond my Illustrator abilities.

Finally, this is really ludicrous to even have to type...however. Having someone leave a comment stating they can't wait until I "loose" that wonderful husband of mine....makes me feel weird.

You should know, Internet, that I don't use this website to air the dirty laundry of those I love. I've on occasion revealed a particular argument or stupid act of jack assery my husband has performed. But, really, I don't make it a point to use this website to reveal the faults of my husband to the world. Because I love him and he loves me and I don't want to hurt him. I try to portray him on this website the way I feel about him.

I love him and he is one of the most amazing men I've ever known. He's handsome and fun to be around and he makes women feel good about themselves because he truly loves hearing everything you have to say. He makes people laugh and he makes people feel a part of the joke and he is what one might call a dynamo in bed.

However there are a lot of really great things he might say about me if he had a website and there are as many not-as-nice things about me that he'd be leaving out because he loves me and he wouldn't start a website to tear me down.

I use this website to make fun of myself, to laugh at my failings, to take meaning from all the ways I'm imperfect. I don't use this website to do those same things about my loved ones. I know he looks perfect, but he's as imperfect as me and the lovely thing is: Our imperfections fit together perfectly.

I don't think of it as giving you half truths, I think of it as sharing what I'm willing to and expecting you, as a reader, to realize that I write about 1500 words a week and my entire life and soul can't be smooshed into that space.

Do you think we can have a 'nice' week this week? No hate mail, please.

***Also, Google Ads? "Alcoholism Treatment"? Just....don't. Do not start with me.

The Very Important Party

We went to a party last night. It was what you might call, if you were allowed to talk about such things, a very important party. But I'm not allowed to talk about it so I won't tell you how I was nervous I would drink too much and end up with a lampshade on my head. Because that would be cliche.

Instead I started the evening out by ripping the handle off the storm door and flinging it into the driveway for the host (who is a very important person) to find in the dark. Fortunately no alcohol was involved in this mishap. Unfortunately, I broke the host's house within the first 30 seconds of arrival.

The problem with being at a very important party is that there are beautiful people swarming all about and you just want to snap pictures of all the beautiful people and the lovely food and the nice house but instead you stand in the bathroom, after a vodka tonic (or two) and marvel at the mirror and how it has a space in the middle and how, if you had no middle you'd look about 10 pounds slimmer.

Well, except you also get this pathetic picture showing you with your middle intact.

At the very important party you talk to the Boss Of Everything at your husband's office and you pray you don't say anything stupid, because you've been known to let some really stupid things out of your face.

You hold yourself back from ruining his story about seeing Geoffrey Fieger and Jack Kevorkian out for lunch together a few years ago. Because I saw them having lunch too!

But then when he mentions he sat next to Mr Fieger on a cross country flight and they both fell asleep. Maybe you shouldn't ask him if they snuggled together. Because making homo-erotic jokes with the Boss of Everything is kind of risky and right now as I type this he's sitting at his breakfast table telling his wife about this idiot woman who implied he snuggled with Geoffrey Fieger on a cross country flight.

The party was fun and Logan restrained himself from saying, "Melissa has the best story to tell you all. Honey! Tell them the one about the phone!"

Because that happened at the last party and I know I've told at least 1000 people that story from the safety of this web space, but I don't know, I feel a little odd talking about my "personal massager" at a wedding reception.

About the shoes. I was asking all of you to talk me out of the shoes, to tell me it's actually cool to wear shoes from 1999. The truth is, I really should buy the shoes. But as my commenter below pointed out, I'm too lazy to get a job so I can have shoes. Charming.

No, the truth is I didn't buy the shoes because of therapy. A few years ago I spent some time on the couch, again. At that time my issues with money were first becoming clear. These were tiny glances at the problem, because I wasn't ready to let go of the denial.

We had a big dinner to go to at Forte with a photographer and Logan's boss and all the spouses and it was with Cari and Joe and you may remember when I talked about them in August. Joe and Cari are very nice and very stylish people.

So in order to fit in at the fancy restaurant and to attend this grown up work related event, I felt I had to look stylish too. I decided to wear a dress and the dress seemed too dressy for a dinner so I needed to buy a sweater to wear over the top of the dress. I ran out that day, even though we didn't have the money, and I bought a last minute sweater which was far more than what I'd normally spend on a sweater.

I went to therapy after that and was talking about how I shouldn't have bought that sweater, but, what could I do?

The therapist said, "If you don't have the money, you don't have the money. You needed to find something else to wear."

At the time I thought she was insane, but I've changed over the last 2 years. Now I tell riveting tales of my "personal massager" at cocktail parties and feel utter joy when Hollywood market sells boneless skinless chicken breast for $1.79 a POUND.

So this time I didn't buy shoes or clothes for the party. I went to the cheapest haircutting super store I could find and had the back part, which was growing at several different rates, trimmed up (that's all I could trust them to do to my hair) for $10 and I didn't wear a skirt or a dress, I wore long pants so I could wear the boots I already had with a nice pointy toe and although I didn't look all that fabulous I looked quite fine.

Besides I'd have to be wearing a pretty fucking fabulous pair of shoes to look good next to the several 5'11" models at this party.

Bloody Marys Have No Place After 4pm.

A few things I've been meaning to talk about but I haven't been able to make up a clever post tying them all together.

A couple of weekends ago at a wedding we attended I was lamenting the fact that Logan had expressed some annoyance with my inability to put a meal on the table at the end of the day. I guess he felt that after working ten to twelve hours he didn't really want to come home to his wife sitting on her ass watching Spongebob with the kids while he fired up the stove to make something.

I thought he was a robot?

Anyway I mentioned this to another mother at the wedding and she said, "You know what you need? A crockpot! Because then you could have cocktails all afternoon at your play dates and dinner would still be ready afterwards!"

I fell a little bit in love with her in that moment and I sort of wanted to make out with her and share a bloody mary. But that would have been totally inappropriate. A bloody mary at six pm on a Saturday?

Then today I turned in an application for employment at my local YMCA. I decided it would be a nice stop gap until the perfect daytime position comes along. I turned in the application and went to pick up Max at his gym class and when I came up to the courtesy desk again the nice lady behind the counter said: "Can I schedule an interview with you?"

And I heard, "Have I scheduled an interview with you?"

So I replied, "No."

And she said, "No? I can't schedule an interview?"

Then I melted into the ground and I realized why I can't get a fucking job....because I beg people not to hire me. Yippee!

Logan vented about work tonight and I think he might have a program malfunction or something because robots don't complain about work right?

Also I have something kind of awful to tell you.

It turns out the Gossip Geyser doesn't read my website. HOWEVER, someone called her and told her that I wrote about her on this website. Isn't that just so wierd? She never even read the website but sends me an angry email about it's contents?

I owe the Gossip Geyser an apology. It turns out there is some confusion in my MOMS Club about which position the Gossip Geyser has actually held in the International MOMS Club organization and it wasn't actually her who was responsible for the polite request for me to remove any mention of the MOMS Club from my website.

She still has a constant stream of gossip spouting from her face but she does not appear to be responsible for the polite request for me to remove any mention of MOMS Club from my website.

In finding this information out, more information was revealed to me and I realized in the course of this discussion how people are just unable to be up front about anything. It's annoying because now I've hurt someone's feelings because of someone's inability to just tell me who it was who brought this issue to the fore.

I do feel badly for publically venting about someone who didn't have the part in my MOMS Club situation I thought she did. But then, as is my rule, I never say anything on this website I'm not willing to say in person. I can only apologize to her for taking the misinformation given to me and getting pissed about it...but I can't apologize for thinking she's a gossip.

So.....anyway I'm so ready to be done with this. But I really wish that when people had a 'polite request' to make they'd just do it and not cloak it in higher ups that want me to remove content from my website.

Just say what you have to say. It's true I may alienate quite a few people but you'll always know where I stand with you.

Let's wrap this up with something nice and happy and light.

At the wedding I mentioned above, the groom chose a song from Crowded House for his first dance with his lovely bride Rachel. I don't typically get hung up on music but I absolutely love this song. It's titled "Private Universe" and you should go to iTunes right now and look it up. I swear this song has been a part of a movie soundtrack. I don't get excited about music and I especially don't get excited about music from a guy who has Michael Jackson songs loaded on his iTunes library for God and all the world to see. But Mike picked this song and I love it.

Also, you should know that I'm cool with the Bloody Martini for after four pm consumption. I first had one at Bab's in Ann Arbor. (I love you Ann Arbor but not as much as Chicago) I loved those Bloody Martini's so much I puked out of the passenger side of the truck while in a parking space waiting for Logan to come drive me home.

See? Now I'm crying about the damn truck again.

Oh, I almost forgot. Talk me out of buying a nice new pair of dress up shoes to replace my six year old dress up shoes which have seen better days. I promise I'll just go to Payless and find something decent to wear to the big party we're going to Friday night. I'm thinking if my shoes are at least new no one will notice that I haven't had a haircut in TEN FUCKING MONTHS.

I just can't stop thinking about it.

Back in January we issued a directive called, "Debt No More in 2004". You may remember because most of January 2004 was spent complaining about how difficult it is to actually say you'll live debt free and then do it.

I've continued to complain through out the year, but the truth is I've gotten my spending problems under control. I don't exactly know when it stopped feeling good to buy cute things for my kids to wear. I don't know when it started to give me an anxiety attack to drive within 10 miles of a Target, but somewhere along the way it did start to feel that way. It started to feel worse to buy than it did to not buy.

I hate to toot my own horn but this is a pretty huge paradigm shift for me. Someone who used to spend hours at Target buying 'necessities' every single week. Someone who spent at least one or two days at the mall snatching up bargains at Gymboree and Baby Gap, and they were bargains and holy shit did Maddie have some cute clothes. But if you don't have money you don't have money and that was a hard reality I wasn't able to face at that time.

So now I'm living a very different life. There are obviously still things I could cut, but maybe I have to keep making baby steps and overcoming my overzealous shopping was a huge step I made over the course of a year.

Money has taken on a very tangiable quality for me, which has been both a blessing and a curse. In my mind Sir Pees-His-Pants-A-Lot is wearing dollar bills around his preciously leaky behind. First in pull ups to save my upholstery and sanity. Now in pants which are washed a million times a week because he has just 5 pair of pants because that's all the money I could part with to clothe him and everytime I wash his soiled pants and underwear I see dollar bills swarming all around his clothes in the washing machine because water costs money and so does laundry detergent.

When I make dinner now and my children barely touch a bite, I see dollar bills going in the trash as I scrape the dinner dishes after the meal. One day a few weeks ago Madison had what she considered a filling breakfast and scooped an entire bowl of cereal in the trash can. I wept. I even debated retrieving the cereal and making her eat it the next day.

In the past Logan believed my shopping was sending us to the poor house and so he secretly blamed me for our financial come apart. But now that I'm not spending I'm keenly aware, one might even say hyper aware of how much money slips through my husband's fingers like water.

With his membership in the Metrosexuals Of America club, let's just say Logan's dance card is usually full. I never minded before when I was busy fondling all the lovely things I'd bought at the mall that day. He's a social guy and I want him to hang out with all the Metrosexuals because it makes him happy.

But when I opened my eyes to the mounting financial crisis in our home, I started to add up the dollars being spent at these Meetings of Metrosexuals and I realized: "Hey! I'm not the only one fucking this family over!"

I know I've mentioned all this before over the last year. Especially at certain times when we were really fighting about these types of things. But now that I'm beating the joy out of my husband's soul, he doesn't argue....or else.

So we bought our minivan, and we've both been grouchy about it. I have no love for this minivan. The only thing I love about it is that it represents the Fiscal Responsibility we've achieved over the last year. When we leased our truck nearly four years ago, we did so because we were having our second child and God Damn it....we wanted it and financial reality be damned, we're getting it.

Did we need the truck? No. Could we have stayed in our three year old Jetta? Yes. Why didn't we? Because we wanted a truck and so we bought it. The decision to lease the truck didn't ruin us financially but it wasn't a smart choice or a choice based on living within our means.

We hate this minivan. It's the one minivan I never ever wanted to drive. But here I am, driving it.

It's a Pontiac Montana.

I have a disdain in my heart for it because, well I'm shocked to say it, I'm emotionally connected to the cars I drive. I never knew it but thinking back, when I sold my very first car, the car that changed my life, my VW Fox nine years ago, I sobbed in the driveway waving good bye at it. When we turned our truck back in last week I cried real tears in the parking lot remembering all the wonderful times we had in that car. All the car trips and the many times I backed into things while driving it and all the making out we did in it.

I'm getting misty again.

The thing is I'm having a hard time getting emotionally connected to the minivan. Not just because it's a minivan...but because it's what Logan calls the Trans Am of minivans. It's green and it has gold cladding....not trim. It's cladding. It's so show off-y. I also hate that it thinks it's an SUV-ish minivan. It's just a minivan, even if it's named after a rugged state.

Even if Logan's boss attempts to revamp the machine on the computer, it's still just a minivan. A minivan with stupid gold cladding.

But it was on the lot and it was far less than our entirely reasonable price range and it was pristine inside for a 1999 vehicle.

It could also be worse. It could be the version which looked remarkably like a dustbuster. (Even if you add a bunch of crap to it, it's still a Dustbuster.)

It could also be worse, we could have been unable to purchase any car at all.

It could also be worse, I could have battery acid sprayed on my face and that would definitely be worse than driving my minivan. So if the choice is between battery acid sprayed on my face or driving the Trans Am of Minivans....then I'm really fucking happy!

Since the choice was actually between being financially irresponsible or making a sound vehicle choice I guess I'm still not happy but I am satisfied and I'm hoping this is the first big decision we've made that will get us on stable financial footing again. (Also don't tell anyone, but the magic automatic sliding door gives me an unmentionable amount of joy.)

There are other unmentionable things that may put us on stable financial ground but mentioning such things is verboten.

Don't even try to drag it out of me. God, Internet you're always trying to drag the bad out of me.

Gossip Geyser

I ask you Internet, with all the power of Al Gore, please send all of your positive energy, karma if you will, to my husband.

On to bitchier things!

Remember last week when the MOMS Club thing came up?

Well there are all these bitchy things I want to say about that situation but will it be interesting to read? Or will I just reveal myself to be as annoying and catty as those tongue wagging gossips?

Well yes, and I think I'm okay with that. For tonight. (For ever...but I won't always expect you to listen to it.)

Like I said before, in any group of people there are always bad apples. There are also lots of great people and usually you just kind of ignore the bad apples to enjoy the good people.

Sometimes though you put a group of mothers together in an organization founded on the principle that being a stay at home mother is the best way to raise kids, you may run into more than your fair share of jackassery.

Also, I am totally intolerant of gossips and most annoying people.

Sometimes being a stay at home mother can be a little boring and I guess what some stay at home mothers do when they're bored is talk about everyone else in the group in a bitchy manner.

I've alluded to one other incident of jackassery with the 'Breast is Best....Also Diet Coke!' lady, but there were other moments of jackassery, mostly when our group was made up of two cities.

Like this overzealous woman who made it her job to personally supervise every action, every email I sent, every event I organized.....sending me emails every other minute in a very control freakish kind of way to make sure I was doing things the way she thought best.

I call that time the 'FYI Era' because during that time I had one million emails from that woman which started with the phrases: "FYI" or "Did you realize...." or "My God I'm a busy body who has nothing better to do but go over everything you do with a fine tooth comb."

But then my favorite was the woman who had a constant stream of gossip spouting out of her face. A fountain of gossip and no one was free of her cattiness. Her best friend, the mailman, the women in our group she couldn't stand for whatever reason. Any time I saw her I did a mental countdown to see when she'd start spouting. A Gossip Geyser. She never disappointed.

I thought I'd left the 'FYI Era' behind and the 'Gossip Geyser' behind because Royal Oak got it's own group and the 'Gossip Geyser' and the 'FYI Emailer' were left behind to wag their tongues at each other in their very own MOMS club.

But oh no, she's still with me!

After I got the polite request to remove the name MOMS Club from my website at the request of a 'coordinator' I contacted the International MOMS Club about the issue. The regional coordinator had never heard of the issue....so I began to wonder who on earth told my chapter's president to ask me to remove the MOMS Club name from my website.

When the regional coordinator got back to me she revealed that it was SURPRISE! The Gossip Geyser who politely requested I remove the MOMS Club name from my website.

And surprise! The regional coordinator told me that she should never have made that request since this is a personal website. The Gossip Geyser retired her coordinator position. Over this? I'm unsure but now that I know she's reading I'm just tickled to have this forum to vent my intense annoyance with this annoying woman.

Why is she reading this site and why does she care if I mention MOMS Club? And if she cares so much about me mentioning the MOMS Club....why didn't she say something to me herself?

Answer: she's the Gossiping Geyser and she doesn't have time. She simply creates messes and then walks away.

And in the words of my robotic spouse, "Gah...just let it go."

And, though that's annoying as hell to hear him say, I have to agree. I need to just let it go....but the whole thing gives me such a pleasurable mix of irritation and glee and well the truth is....I've become one of those women with nothing better to do but wag my tongue about these annoying women.

That's why you must send up all your positive energy to whatever cosmos is involved in getting me a job and getting me the hell out of this house. Also I gave my official membership resignation last week because this is the kind of stupid thing I just can't participate in anymore.

If you're from Detroit, help.

I got an email from a nice lady from Milwaukee. Sarah is so very bad ass, she vacations in Detroit. Seriously!

She emailed me wondering if I might be able to help her plan her trip. They're coming in January for the North American Auto Show (zzzzzzz.....oh, sorry, I dozed off just thinking about it). Sarah is on the same page as me with the Auto Show, which is why they are coming with another couple. The ladies will have some time during the day to, well, I want to say 'Sight See' but can you sight see in Detroit?

Sarah said in her note she was open to public transportation and it's been a week and I just now stopped laughing at the thought of an out of towner taking public transportation in Detroit. Wait, now that I typed it, I'm laughing again. Let me say it another way, Sarah, if you value your life at all, you are NOT open to public transportation in the city of Detroit.

I know I'm mean, but seriously before you lecture me about how 'It's a great time in Detroit!' tell me if you've taken any form of public transportation in Detroit in the last 6 months.

So Sarah is looking for some places to visit in Detroit or the surrounding areas. I guess the last time they came they stayed in Windsor and had massages. Another time they visited our fancy mall about 25-30 miles outside of the city. So let's try to keep our sightseeing to no further than Troy.

They'd like to stay near Cobo for the ((((snooze))))Auto Show.

Being unfamiliar with the downtown hotel landscape I only feel safe referring her to the Pontchartrain and the Atheneum.

My sister recently saw Scarlett Johansson at the bar at the Atheneum (I think, she'll correct me if I'm wrong). She was in town (Scarlett, not my sister) filming a movie.

As for what to do all day while Sarah's husband browses miles upon miles of cars, ((((yawn)))), So far I've only come up with the DIA or maybe Henry Ford Estate. Or perhaps a visit to Pewabic Pottery. What about the Eastern Market? Is that something a tourist would think worthwhile.

What's a good area to shop in downtown Detroit for two out of towners? I'm just not sure there is such a place. So should they head to Royal Oak for the afternoon or Birmingham? Or am I just being so very suburban?

It seems antiques in Royal Oak could be fun for out of towners. Birmingham offers more in the way of shopping, though it isn't cheap.

Dinner, probably in Detroit. The last time we ate in Detroit was a party at Intermezzo and the food was wonderful, but then it was a catered event. All the reviews I'm reading say the food is decent but the service is horrid. Traffic Jam and Snug comes to mind but we haven't been there in at least a year. Union Street is one of our favorite places to eat and drink.

So who has advice? I'll add my own to the comments as the discussion gets going.

Sarah, please feel free to chime in with any additional information about what you do and don't want to do.

I find it terribly sad that I can't sell Detroit a little better. Kwame, it's time to sell the city a little better and maybe ease up on the ethically questionable behavior?

Diamond Encrusted Toilet Bowl Brush.

When I said Logan needed another job, did you think I wanted him to be happy at his next job, just paid what he's worth?

Because that is so totally not what I meant. I meant that I won't be happy until I am rich, FABULOUSLY RICH with a diamond encrusted toilet bowl brush...make that TWO diamond encrusted toilet bowl brushes!

Did you think I wanted him to stay in his field, maybe just designing for new clients? Because that's not what I meant. I meant I wanted him to sell his soul to the devil and become a LAWYER. Because designing at a new job with new clients and being paid what he's worth would still leave him happy...and I do NOT WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY.

Did you think that I meant that Logan could move his career forward within his field and would quite possibly find the satisfaction of more responsibilities and perks and more money in a new position? No no no. I won't be happy until I suck every last bit of joy out of his bones. That diamond encrusted toilet bowl brush isn't going to buy itself with 'Happiness'.

Believe me it's not easy to try and make Logan unhappy but I'm working very hard at making sure I take away all the joy in his life.

Thanks for the lovely email from the one person who understood what I was saying, it made a pretty shitty day feel even shittier!

I used to wonder why Dooce would let her hate mail bother her. I thought to myself, 'People are just mean and nasty when they're jealous. You're fabulous and everyone else thinks so. Screw those assholes.'

Then last night Logan, whom I had chained in the basement for his nightly Joy Depleting beating, said the exact same thing and I felt horribly misunderstood and frustrated and I realized why hate mail bothers me. (I realized this after I beat the living crap out of Logan because my goodness he seemed awfully happy yesterday and I can't have all that happiness rolling around!)

I throw myself out here warts and all and I make myself very vulnerable by doing so. Hate mail is misguided hatred from someone who doesn't understand that this is a website and one is not required to read it. It really shouldn't bother me, since these comments are many times from people who think they have it much worse than me and are therefore irritated when I have the nerve to feel any dissatisfaction with my life.

Unfortunately, the satisfaction in my life doesn't come from knowing my life isn't as shitty as anyone elses. I feel bad for everyone's shitty situations that cause them heartache and stress and worry. I may not want to read about their struggle to come up with the way through those things, but then I just don't read their fucking website.

I'm so glad I got that off my chest. Logan will be happy too because maybe tonight I won't have to beat the joy out of him with as much vigor.

So I had my interview yesterday afternoon. When you have an interview, do you feel like you're interviewing the place as much as they are interviewing you?

Because this time around in the job game I know what I'm looking for pretty clearly. I know what I need to be happy in a position. I need a part time position first of all. Logan travels a lot and works late a lot of the time and has a thriving freelance business, so my 'career' has to fit within his.

I do not want a full time position which is shoved into 29 hours of work because 'that's what we can afford'.

I don't want to sit through an interview where the job is outlined in excruciating detail and I'm told over and over 'this position is obviously far more work than what we can pay you for'.

I don't want to hear the fiery anger at the last girl who just 'up and left' because there's usually a reason people 'up and leave'.

I don't want to hear about how horrible the members of the synagogue are. I don't want to hear how bitchy Mrs Fineman is and how if the bar mitzvah for Mrs Greenburg doesn't go off perfectly there will be 'hell to pay'.

I don't even want to plan the Greenburg's bar mitzvah.

Perhaps she was trying to scare off the people who don't really want to work for far less money than the work they're doing is worth. Which absolutely worked.

It's not that I can't deal with impatient or angry people. I can. (I'll just make fun of them on my website to let off the steam.) It's that I want to work somewhere that holds a little less animosity toward the people it serves.

It was also a little troubling when I was introduced to the other members of the office staff and one started openly weeping and begging me to take her home and the other one didn't even look up from her work and only waved in my direction.

My office did have a window and part of me really wants a window in my office. Part of me just really wants an office. Part of me wants this skirt which Logan and I agree would be a lovely reward for getting a new position.

But then she said if I wanted to work there I would have to eat babies! Can you believe that? First the Episcopalians and now this.

Keep the job prayers coming. It's really important I continue to suck the joy out of Logan's life and my part time job is an integral part of the master plan.

Coffered Ceilings Hurt Me In My Heart

Continuing on the same theme, sort of.

I need to move to Atlanta.

I already knew there were all sorts of new developments there which are exactly like our house only new but still beautiful and full of the same character we love in our current home.

The tour of this model made me throw an Atlanta or Bust sign on the mini van out back and start frantically packing up all our belongings.

Seriously, look at the coffered ceilings (which we put in our bedroom ourselves) and the bookcases, which are exactly like the ones in my own living room....except better because they're bigger.

And don't tell me you don't wet your pants a little when I show you the Chelsea, because you totally did.

Except then I remembered Logan loves his job and he's never leaving.

So tonight when a friend emailed me this, I knew it was destined to be.

We leave tomorrow.

All the praying and the manischewitz I've been drinking worked and I have an interview tomorrow. It's at a synagogue so bagels and matzoh here I come! Thank you God.

Now if you're Jewish you can't really say or even type the word God, correct? But the same friend who sent me the great news about Tiki Atlanta also sent me great news about taking the name of Jesus in vain instead of God. If I'm Jewish, I don't believe in Jesus so I can swear about Jesus Fucking Christ all the time!

I can't wait to say that in my interview.

You may have noticed this about me but I'm the type of person who likes to think about things. A lot. I like to think about things until they're begging me to stop thinking about them. I like to work through every possible scenario before I even have any idea what the real scenario is so that I have enough time to worry about every possible scenario.

Obviously if I waited for the scenario to be revealed I wouldn't have enough time to worry about every possible one. Logan just doesn't understand, but he's a robot so he just waits and waits until situations present themselves and then he figures them out as they happen.

Ha! What a fool.

So far today I've cried 3 times because Max got his progress report from school today. I know Max is seriously psychotic and he STILL wets his pants some of the time and I know he has that temper problem and I know that in the past I've thought about selling him on Ebay, but today he got his progress report from school and his Presbyterian teachers love him.

And I know all Presbyterian people gather in the moonlight and dance with Satan, but they really warmed my heart today with their nice words about my son.

"Max is a delightful boy. He is intelligent, well-spoken and has a sense of humor that is highly developed. In short, we love having him in our class; he cracks us up."

There were several areas of evaluation on this report and all of them were graded as 5's, which is the best you can do if you go to Presbyterian preschool. But after the area titled: "Communicates with others well." There is a hand written note which reads, "Max is extremely articulate."

And do you know what that really means? It means what I've been trying to tell all of you people all fucking summer. THEY TALK ALL THE TIME AND THEY NEVER STOP!

So I'm crying because I'm going to have to pull him from his Satanic Presbyterian preschool unless one of these jobs turns out to be a MWF type of position. And if you transform yourself into Logan and say, "Don't worry, it will all work out." I will lodge a matzo ball in your throat and you'll die while I say, "Don't worry, it will all work out."

I'm going to make a great Jew I think.

Tonight at dinner Logan and I were discussing the progress report and Madison heard us say the word 'articulate' and we ended up in a 20 minute long discussion about what articulate does and does not mean. It does NOT have anything to do with a particularly nice piece of art. Yes, just like the word 'Fart' doesn't really have anything to do with art. And on and on until I said, 'Why don't we turn on the idiot box now.' (which is the tv of course)

In fairness I have to tell you about Madison's report card which was all O's for Outstanding and O+ for She's Just So Great I Can't Even Believe You Could Do This With Formula! And also she got some S's and S+'s and those are just super too.

Guess what her highest marks were in?

Talking. If they gave grades for talking she'd have an OMFGSTATFT! (Oh My Fucking God She Talks All The Fucking Time!) But no really her best grades were in reading and her teacher wrote a nice note which reads: "Madison is making excellent progress in first grade. She is interested in learning, a hard worker and a good listener."

In my mind she wrote a note which read: "Could you try to talk to your daughter less because she's talking all the time and she asks so many questions I think my face melted off today."

At conferences Logan and I asked how she was doing socially. She just turned six a couple of weeks ago and most of the children in her grade have been six for quite some time. Some of the girls in her class even turned 7 in September and October. I worry all the time that she's not able to handle the pressure of being the youngest in the class.

The teacher said she had nearly forgotten about all the crying she did at the beginning of the year, because she's totally fine now. She's just like everyone else, except, the teacher said, she certainly talks a lot doesn't she. Then she laughed nervously.

And I said, lady, until she calls you into her room at 11:30pm to ask you what 'disembowel' means, I don't want to hear your whining.

Good night.