Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Things the plumber said and I didn't like.

I won't give you direct quotes because it was all a horrible blur.

"....broken sewer lines...."

".....dig up yard......"

".....improper drainage....."

"......soaking and rotting the foundation....."

".....swelling roots filling your pipe...." [I only included that one because it made me blush and giggle]

".....totally faulty plumbing system....."

".....wait a minute, Melissa Summers? I read about you and your gay son in the Times this weekend."

".....not sure how much it will cost....."

".....to put it bluntly Mrs Summers, you're fuct with a capital T...."

Thank God for Lexipro and email and distractions because this is the worst news I've gotten in like, 2 weeks. I haven't even cried about it.

The plumbers name was Duane. I wish Duane had a speech impediment because that would have softened the ass raping....hearing him say, "Hi, I'm Duane, I'm here to clear the Dwayne."

I'm drunk aren't I? Because God that seems so funny right now.

Also, I jumped on the bandwagon and signed up for Flickr and in honor of it I came up with a new masturbation euphemism specifically because Logan's office wouldn't let me write 'masturbation'. Instead, if you want to discuss masturbation with Logan, for whatever innocent reason, you should write 'Flick The Switch' instead.

(It's 11:15pm EST and Logan is at work. God love him.)

Damn it, I meant to add:

The new label for my links is a nod to Laid Off Dad and his viewing of the morning news which pronounced we 'Mommy Bloggers', "those you might not necessarily want to run into on the playground".

We're greasers and the other mommies are the soc's. "Mom, mom, crazy mom...stay cool mom."

People came and used my laptop. It likes it.

Last night we had friends over and it was nerd nirvana for me with the laptop being fondled by many people, all at once.

We were checking out Modern Seed because in June our friends John and Asa are expecting a little girl who I am certain will be cute enough to plop in your pocket. She'll also have one very stylish room if her parents outfit the nursery with Modern Seed merchandise.

I'm sorry to keep harping on this New York Times article, but I just can't help it. I of course bought the paper version today (can you believe how cute Miss Leta is? Don't even get me started on the beautiful white goodness of the iBook in Heather's lap), and as Logan and I read the paper version together we yelled out at least one time per paragraph something like, "What?" "Are you kidding me?" or "Who the hell is Alice Brady?"

I want to explain for any new readers who come here because they read how I'm anxious and uncertain because my son 'might be gay'. Perhaps you read that article with your own family and rolled your eyes up into your skull and thought, "What kind of a narcissistic and self absorbed parent actually worries her two year old might be gay?"

There are two things I say to that: I have often speculated about my son's future sexuality. He might be gay and he might be straight and really he could dress up like Liza Minelli every single day and sing a rousing version of 'New York, New York' and still grow up to be as straight as his totally hot but also metrosexual father. I really don't care about it either way. I simply find it amusing to speculate about it because it strikes me as funny. I obviously don't care about scarring my son, because I'm 'self absorbed'.

But what really bothers me the most is how Mr Hochman didn't mention even once that Max is not gay because he loves trucks and tutus. He's gay because he loves petite quiche.

A near miss.

I guess David Hochman doesn't have the magic touch Meredith O'Brien does when it comes to deciphering my odd human like noises.

I'm mentioned with my actual real name, in a New York Times article about Buh-Logging. Unlike my friend Alice Brady (also known as Alice Bradley) and my sometimes editor (when I get off my ass and give my submission) Julia Moos (also known as Julie Moos) who were mentioned by made up names.

I'm absolutely flattered and Max will one day be totally horrified to be mentioned in this article as being GAY, but I was kidding....sort of. I'm also a little stunned by the tone of the piece. But then I shouldn't be surprised. This thing called 'Bah-Logging' doesn't make sense to a lot of people.

I guess I find it vaguely insulting to have this site called an "online shrine to parental self-absorption." Because all blogs are not lessons in self absorption. We, as parents should be condemned for indulging in writing about our experiences as parents since SURPRISE! Parenting takes up 200% of our lives.

This line from the article has me laughing, "How will the bloggee feel, say, 16 years from now, when her prom date Googles her entire existence?"

How will Max feel when his prom date finds out HE'S GAY!!!!! This is brilliant.

In the end what this article shows me, once again, is that we can't win no matter what we do. If we aren't worried about our kids we're neglectful. If we think (and write) about the things our kids do we're called hand wringing obsessives.

Hooray New York Times for capturing the essence of mothering!

Like Alice Brady said, the article is vaguely damning.

I don't want to sound ungrateful. I'm happy to have the mention and people heading to my site to see what Buh Logging is actually about. At the same time I think traditional media is somehow insulted by the blogger and therefore insults this form of communication when reporting on it.

Update: Here is a well written and thoughtful response to the Times piece.

I am interviewed, someone makes sense of it.

Remember in December when the Lice Fest began?

On that day a few things happened. I had a mild hangover from the 1.5 too many vodka gimlets I drank the night before by the light of the Christmas tree. On that day I stayed in my pajamas all day long and cried. A lot.

Also on that day a nice lady who writes things for a living called me and asked me questions. I pulled myself out of my lice induced stupor to answer her questions and amazingly, given my phone phobia, she was able to decipher my odd human-like grunts into something which makes sense to most other human like beings.

I'm impressed.

You can read it here and be dazzled by Meredith O'Brien's ability to understand me, even though I speak as if suffering from a rare form of Phone Palsy. She's amazing...like Anne Sullivan understanding Helen Keller....only I actually can see and hear. But otherwise it's exactly the same.

If you do steve jobs, he'll expedite your order.

Today at 3pm Fed Ex knocked on my door and when I answered the door I said, "Is this my computer?" and he said, "I'm not sure." (with a little laugh) and I said, "But when I called yesterday in near hysterics they said it would be Monday at the earliest." and he said, "I don't know." and I said, "THIS IS SO TOTALLY MY BRAND NEW COMPUTER!" and he said, "Let go of my arm."

It's here!

I've been licking and sniffing it since 2pm and I'm not stopping anytime soon. Have you smelled a new computer? I highly recommend you stop by and smell mine because this is totally awesome.

It says iBook G4....like it's really special. My computer has an attitude.

It's been in my lap all night and I'm not ashamed to say it, I'm aroused. Thank God this is sitting next to me.

Look, this computer even knows how to play up the innuendo.

If you don't get it I'm not explaining it. God. (It has a slot....not a clunky drawer like the last stupid machine.)

Today was a very nice day because C.K. my service specialist totally put out. And now, I'm going to bed and Logan is totally putting out. Only he doesn't know it yet. He's not as susceptible from hardware arousal. Poor thing.

If I wake up tomorrow and none of this makes any sense...I'm blaming the G4.

The Bend Over Basement*

The ceiling in our basement is very very low. I am of average height but if I wear the wrong shoes in the basement (meaning anything other than a thin piece of leather strapped to the soles of my feet) I will slam my head into the upper joists and duct work as I make my way to the laundry room. As you can imagine this makes me love laundry more than I already do, which is a lot.

Another thing that makes me love laundry is the fact that the only point of exit into the sewer system of our house is our laundry tub and about once a year the main drain to the street fills with tree roots (don't tell me to cut down the trees, the big old trees are what makes living in this neighborhood marginally worthwhile) and causes the laundry tub to fill with water of disgusting origin and it often over flows onto the floor. Hearing a gentle waterfall in the basement while I'm doing laundy, a water feature if you will, well you can imagine how giddy with Laundry Delight that makes me!

But what makes me fill with even more lightness and joy is when I tell Logan I set up the plumber to come on Monday which is, for everyone following along at home, the day before the 1st which will mark the end of my bad mood...for a few days anyway. Setting up the plumber and losing $100 literally down the drain isn't the part which fills me up in a joyous way. It's when Logan says, from the phone in the office, "Are you sure we need a plumber?"

And while I'm on the phone looking at the floor of the basement covered in water again and the shop vac full of water from the last over flow and the pieces of mixed vegetables from last night's dinner stuck to the sides of the laundry tub I think, "Gosh, I just don't know. Maybe we don't need a plumber!"

I also think my robotic husband was programmed with a very strong denial mechanism.

*When we moved in someone had built a bar in the deepest darkest bowels of the basement. First of all our basement is perhaps the least pleasant place in the entire state of Michigan. Secondly, were these midget bar hoppers? Because to stand at the bar my six foot tall husband had to keep his head bent over. We took to calling it the Bend Over Bar, which maybe it was. Maybe our dark, dank basement was once the hottest gay bar in Royal Oak! Too bad we tore out the original bar. Maybe we should rebuild.

"...and we both like our coffee black, like our men."

I'm attending a 6 week long seminar titled, "Families That Care: Helping your K-2nd grader build academic skills for more effective learning."

The only problem with this seminar is the amount of 'team building' the program seems to focus on. I guess we're all supposed to feel like one big happy family on this ship called the 'SS Helping Our Kids!' The problem is I'm kind of shy and I'm not very good at team building activities because I find them incredibly annoying and it's hard to be part of the 'SS Helping Our Kids' when you're wishing you had your laptop in front of you for real time posting of this ridiculous activity.

The seminar leader had us break up into pairs with someone you don't know! I had my first anxiety attack then, because didn't you always hate it when you had to find a partner for an activity? I hated it in first grade and I hated it in college and I hate it even more now. But I found a partner and we set to work on the assignment which was to find as many things you have in common with this person you've just met. There would be a prize at the end so get as many as you can!!!!

I try to get into these things and I try not to always let the cynical part of myself take over but when my partner said, "Do you drive a minivan?" and I had to answer, "Yes." Well, a part of me died.

More Things We Had In Common!

She likes most types of food! But her husband is picky too!
Her daughter wanted (and got) an American Girl Doll for Christmas! Maddie wanted (but didn't get) an American Girl Doll for Christmas! And you will not believe this! They both wanted Kit! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!
We both have no gray hairs yet!
We both like Target!
We both stay at home with our kids!

So the whole time I kept telling myself, "At least this will make a good entry for my website." But now that I'm sitting here writing it. It kind of sucks. Oh well.

Here is the list of things I wish I would have asked my 'Partner', except I didn't because I'm a total baby.

"Do you keep a vibrator under your bed and call it your 'phone'?" (Her imagined answer: ".....")
"Are you on any depression medication?" (Her imagined answer: "....")
"Do you have a website and right now you're imagining the post you're going to make when this horrible torture is complete?" (The imagined answer she could give that would make this story so perfect: "Oh my God, you're Dooce aren't you!?")

So after we all had our lists of Banal Things We Have In Common ready, we picked the most unique item on our lists and presented it to the class so we could all vote on who's was the most unique!

The first person said the most unique thing they had in common was....THEY WERE BOTH STAY AT HOME MOMS! Isn't that so crazy? I mean, what are the chances that you'd attend a seminar full of parents and you'd run into another woman who stays at home with her kids. Weird!

The next woman, who was wearing what looked like the world's largest scarf....except as a dress, said, "We found out we both think we shouldn't force our children to learn more than they're ready for." Now, seriously, that's the most unique thing you have in common? I mean, did you think you'd meet a parent here tonight who would say, "I think I should force my child to learn more than he's ready for!!!!"

They were all as ridiculous as these. The best ones were the ones I made up on the margins of my notes. Unfortunately for all of you they all have to do with sex because I guess that's the funniest thing I could imagine a group of parents engaging in an awkward 'team building' exercise saying to one another.

"Well, we found out we both adore well hung black men."

"We're both HUGE fans of KY warming gel. You would not believe how it feels!"

"You won't believe this! We both love it doggie style! You know like on our hands and knees? From behind?"

"Neither of our wives give head. What honey? I'm sorry but you don't!"

In the end the 'winning' team BOTH HAD HUSBAND'S WHO DO SHIFT WORK won the stupid prize. Amazing! Wow. Anyway, the prize was a blockbuster gift certificate, but hello? Netflix.

It's only the 24th.

We are paid on the first and the fifteenth of each month.

I have a 'just recently paid' mood and a 'not recently paid mood'.

I'll give you one guess which this is.

Sorry, I have no energy for anything more tonight.

3 more resumes out today. I'm going to be working at 7-11 aren't I? Aren't I?

In The End This Is For Chauncey

Me to Logan: "What am I going to do without my laptop for two to four weeks?"
Logan to Me: "I don't know....housework?"

What on earth is he implying?

Since we moved into this house nearly 7 years ago, we've been using the same adult beverage store to serve all our beer, wine and liquor needs. Even before we bought this house we used them to supply the drinks for our wedding. The store always had a very neighborhood feel to it and the staff was always so nice. So nice in fact that when we had Max we had to take him in to introduce him to all our friends at the beer store. That's classy.

Also, they had every single kind of beer you can imagine and Bell's was always just 6.99 a six pack.

Little known fact! Any where you slap a condo down, people will live there. Next to the railroad tracks! Fine! Even if it costs half a million dollars. On a busy intersection in a non picturesque neighborhood? Where do I sign?

That's fine for me, considering this is my neighborhood and if you want to spend half a million dollars to live here, then I have a bargain of a house for you. Mine! But then I learned they'd be building one of the condo developments where my beloved beer store is. How can I be white trash if I don't load up the radio flyer cargo wagon with kids and a couple of six packs of Bell's every Friday all summer?

I was feeling a little sad about the impending closing of the beer store and as the cashier rang up my order I said, sadly, "I'm going to miss this store so much. What am I going to do without you guys right around the corner?"

She answered, helpfully, "I don't know, sober up?"

But she was wrong. Now I just buy in bulk at Costco or I buy from Holiday Market because they never imply I need to sober up. In fact they love my drinking and encourage it and they love me!

What a bitch.

Steve Jobs is all set to babysit tomorrow night and I'm not leaving any beer in the fridge for him (because Lisa warned me below he'll drink you out of house and home). I want to talk about how much I love Apple Customer Service because believe me, if I'd called yesterday and walked away with a broken computer and yet another repair...oh you'd hear about it. For months.

So, it's only fair I tell you about how awesome Apple was to me.

I gathered all my repair numbers and receipts and all the things I'd say to them and since I have that pesky phone phobia I wrote it all out, like a script because I am seriously way better in writing than I am actually speaking with my vocal chords. I got my Apple representative on the phone and he asked me, "What's going on today?"

I replied, "I'm really angry right now but I know you just answer the phones so I'm trying really hard not to yell at you because it's not YOUR fault my computer is dead for the third time." (not kidding here, I said that.)

He said, "Well thank you for doing that....."

Then we went through a dog and pony show to prove to him that my computer really wasn't working. For example, he made me get my power cord and plug it in while we attempted to start the machine. Which, actually? Wasn't a bad idea since a couple of weeks ago I flew into a rage when my computer wouldn't 'wake up' out of sleep mode and Logan said, "Do you need to plug it in?" and God FUCKING DAMN IT. It worked. He's a robot.

One of the 'tricks' David and I did together involved hitting the power on button and then, we counted together. He told me to count, "one one thousand, two one thousand". But I told him I really preferred, "One mississippi, two mississippi." So we did that. Then we held down several buttons on the keyboard at once and I'm sure he thought I was retarded since I have a lot going on while I'm on the phone.

I'm putting videos in and cooking lunch and running the dishwasher and folding laundry and updating my website, while I'm on the phone. It's hard to listen to specific instructions when all your limbs are doing something else.

He determined my computer was actually broken and transferred me to a 'Specialist'.

I mentioned I had a script and part of the script was getting me connected to a specialist....so that section I had to skip right over since he just put me through without any begging or sexual favors.

The specialist got on the phone and said, "I hear your iBook has been giving you a lot of trouble."

I said, "Don't mess with me fucker."

He said, "What can we do for you?"

I said (from my script), "I've had this computer fixed 3 times already and it keeps dying and sending this machine in for another repair is totally unacceptable to me." (the 'totally unacceptable' part? I said in the bathroom mirror 15 times before I called. Phone phobia is so ugly.)

I had 3 paragraphs written in the script of explanation of what I'd already been through and why this was totally unacceptable, but before I could get to that, he said:

"I totally agree."

And my laptop opened up and a bright light came forth and from that light came, my comfort, my savior, our babysitter...Steve Jobs.

He asked, "What would you like to do now?"

And I, from my script (I had to skip right to page two because this was so fucking easy!) said, "I feel my computer should be replaced and I feel I should be compensated for my trouble. I'd like, [totally ridiculous new computer which is way better than what I had]. Also, $100 in iTunes and I'd really like it if you told Steve Wozniak to stop riding around on that stupid Segway.

He said no to the Segway issue, and the iTunes thing and really even the computer I asked for. However, since I asked for way more than I was willing to settle for, I'm extremely happy with the new computer which will be heading my way very soon if the data back up goes as planned on Sunday afternoon.

The funny part is, how my Specialist kept apologizing to me for not being able to get me exactly what I wanted but little did he know...if he put a cd burner in a hamster powered IIsi** I would have been pretty fucking happy because this means Logan can no longer berate me for not only making a terrible choice in purchasing a large piece of computer equipment without his input, but also leaving out the stupid cd burner.

Here's a double bottom line:

A) Apple still rules and I don't care what you say. I love them and will remain forever loyal and when we save our pennies to buy a Mac Mini, we'll be co sleeping and we didn't even co sleep with our actual children.

B) Am I crazy to be kind of sexually aroused by Steve Jobs? I was joking at first but then I searched for a picture of him and now I'm a little smitten. The The Young Steve? No. Salt and Pepper Steve? I kind of want to co sleep with him and the mac mini.

Note: He wears small glasses, like Logan. He is also salt and pepper with a little extra salt....like my hot husband. Except he has a lot less hair, unfortunately***.

Mystery solved, I love Apple because I love Logan.

**Logan bought a IIsi just out of college in 1991 (the hair picture is his college graduation picture...thank God he's so hot now. Jesus.) for.....THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS! The Mac Mini is $700 with exactly what we need. If my father, who was alive when a computer took up an entire floor of a building, could see the Mac Mini he would pass out with this information.

***I only bring up The Hair for Mr Byrne who is expecting his first child, Chauncey, in just about 26 weeks. He's hoping his baby is born with a full head of Rock and Roll hair.

Apple Is Going To Be My Bitch.

Un fucking real. My laptop just died for the FOURTH time.

At least I've had it for a month and a half working. Last time it died was October 29th.

I mean, really, how selfish of me to expect an 18 month old computer to work for more than one to two months at a time.

I'm collecting all my numbers and dates and tips and then I'm calling Apple and someone is going to be squealing like a pig by the time I'm finished.

**Don't even remind me how the iPod froze up last week. Apple. I love you, why are you treating me like this?

UPDATE! I just got off the phone with Apple.

Apple isn't my bitch, we're more like a team and they're upset like me about what I've been through! They're taking care of me and Steve Jobs even said he'll baby sit this weekend. That's how badly they want me to be happy!

I love you Apple.

Now, PLEASE MY GOD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET THERE BE A WAY TO GET ALL MY DATA OFF MY COMPUTER HOLY JESUS. Writing, six months of pictures, TEXT TWIST! Gone! Gone! Cover letters! Resumes! No this can not happen.

Smallish Whoopie Cushions

I had lunch today with someone I met through ((((Gasp)))) MOMS Club®!

I've been meaning to give you all an update on the MOMS Club® situation. The situation is: it appears to remain true that anyone can link anyone they feel like linking. Even if a large organization threatens you with legal action and says, they "will consult" their attorneys if you do not comply with their demands. Then, they'll change their story when you refuse to comply and will say something annoying like, "It's unfortunate you won't comply with my request. I'll be turning this matter over to the president of the MOMS Club® and it will be up to her if legal action will be taken."

Because, really, the truth is.....the person who contacted you was just really pissed off you had the nerve to say unpleasant things about people she likes and she had nothing better to do but email you with empty threats. Also, she never turned anything over to the 'President' because the entire thing was a big fat ball of annoying bull shit! Weeeee!

Lunch was lovely but I realized while we chatted, if someone I am talking to reads my website....we have very little to talk about because I only have about 5 stories to tell at any given time and I usually tell them on this website first. So conversation is seriously limited. But then on the way home from our lunch date I thought to myself, "Why don't you do more listening asshole?" Ha!

Let's see, something more pleasant. Last week I shoveled the Concrete Wonderland until I died. The amusing part of that is the part where I woke up in the morning and it was 55 degrees and also rained so all the snow and ice I'd methodically removed not even 12 hours before had melted anyway. God, that made me laugh....maniacally.

This morning I shoveled the Concrete Wonderland again and I have to tell you, I rule at shoveling. If it was something I could put on my resume, I would and I'd get an awesome job with that. Logan shovels the bare minimum. For example, we see the children in our neighborhood walking to school single file because The Robot shovels a narrow strip off the sidewalk. And that's all. He also shovels a path from the house to each of the cars and that's it. However, he does brush off both the cars before he leaves each day and also he sold $5000 in girl scout cookies today at work. I don't even want to know what he had to do to get that one $4000 order.

Logan sometimes complains about the way I do laundry. People, he doesn't like his jeans "TOTALLY BONE DRY!!!!!!!" When he complains about the way I do laundry I reply, "You should care for your delicate clothing yourself Princess."

And he generally does. So in that same way, really I have to suck it up and shovel the walks myself and I did...for an hour and a half I did. God bless my spine tomorrow morning.

Funny Conversation With Max:

I'm fully dressed and drying my hair in the bathroom post shower. Max knocks on the door and peeks in.

Max: "Why do moms have breast-ez?" [breasts I assume he meant]
Me: "Max they're for feeding babies, although I'm a horrible mother and never used them for that. But I do love you. I love you so much and I think you're so very smart. You're not gay because I didn't feed you from my breasts are you?"
Max: "Please stop oozing your mental instability all over me. Jesus."
Me: "Right. Well when a woman has a baby a mom's breasts make milk to feed the baby. [I left out the recreational part because I'm open minded, but what the fuck?]"
Max: "Then after you have a baby they're full of water?"
Me: "Not really."
Max: "They're full of air?"

Yes, Max, like smallish [in my case] whoopee cushions.

pbbbbbtttttthhhhhhh.

Furniture Envy

I met Chrissy and Stephanie when our girls were all in preschool together 3 years ago. Erin, Zoe and Madison were inseparable and thankfully, I liked their moms because in those days playdates were all inclusive. Even better, Chrissy and Stephanie had little boys too. When the girls graduated and moved on to separate elementary schools we fell out of touch. But this year Chase, Max and Max (they're both Max S.'s) started school together and amazingly they're all best buddies.

Yesterday we got the girls and the boys together since everyone was off school for Martin Luther King Jr's birthday. The playdate started with the boys showing off their underwear and the girls slathering teal and fuschia make up on their eyes. Next the boys slid down the stairs on their butts for an hour and the girls put Zoe's pajamas on.

The moms didn't really feel like showing off their underwear and we all find it difficult to pull off teal and fuschia eye makeup and I sleep nude* so showing off our pajamas was out of the question. Instead we shared libations in honor of the holiday. White wine, which thinking about it now was totally inappropriate. Maybe a black and tan would have been more in tune with the holiday, but ah well.

The important part isn't what we drank it's that we galavanted about and while we shared a few drinks, the children played with shards of glass and hot irons....we don't have time to supervise while galavanting about in our 'liquor induced blissful parental state'.

Everytime I go to Stephanie's house I am overwhelmed with the need to tell her how much I love all of her furniture and she's very patient with me as I walk around fondling the beautiful dupioni curtains and licking the coffee table and humping her upholstered chairs and yesterday, she had added a new buffet to her dining area and I stripped my clothes off and rubbed my body all over it. All of this and I hadn't even gotten a hold of her lighting yet. Once I collected myself she showed me the paint they'll be putting on the walls and I stood there, naked, openly weeping.

I need a job.

And because I feel horrible about my apparent lack of thought about MLK Jr day. I will add this interesting discussion Maddie and I had about civil rights and the lack thereof in the past. I started out explaining how not that long ago people with dark colored skin couldn't go to the same schools that people with light colored skin could. They couldn't drink from the same drinking fountains or ride at the front of the bus and if someone with dark colored skin and someone with light colored skin fell in love, they weren't allowed to get married.

She absorbed all these examples with wide eyes and then said, "Could people with dark colored skin have pets?"

Because that's the worst kind of injustice her six year old mind can come up with.

Here's a link to the I Have a Dream speech and if you can listen to it without breaking out the goosebumps, you're a robot with a serious program malfunction.

(link via One Good Thing.)

=================================

*Jesus Christ I don't sleep nude. We're living in the frozen tundra!

Before I Forget.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. day and I'll tell you, we celebrated. I can't remember a time I really embraced this holiday like I did today.

I'm now totally exhausted and laying in bed drinking water waiting to fall asleep. Maybe I'll tell you all about our celebration another time.

Saturday night we played Scrabble, because we're trying to be more fiscally responsible and not go out every weekend. I guess people that don't have any money don't go out with their single, childless and therefore (relatively) rich friends every weekend. Shocking.

Logan scored 63 points with the word Manx. Which is perhaps the most bull shit word ever played in Scrabble.

Just when I thought he couldn't cheat any more, he pulled 'Et' out of his ass. According to Scrabble's online dictionary (not Webster's mind you) 'Et' is the past tense of 'Eat'.

...

Right.

If it doesn't work, just scream and cry.

One of the things we'd really like to teach our kids is 'Adaptability'.

It's a kind of vague term I know but I think it's probably the life skill I am most lacking and it makes it difficult to live in this world.

My daughter gets lice...."Oh my God I'm dying!"

I don't get the job I want...."Holy shit! What do I do now?"

I could go on but then I'd be embarassed.

Sometimes we think we're doing a decent job raising kids who can 'bounce back' from disappointments.

But then one day Max can't walk through a gate because he's pushing it the wrong way and he stands there screaming like a lunatic as I calmly try to tell him to pull the gate toward him. No, the other way Max!

It's then I feel a sense of impending doom picturing my children standing screaming at the gate they can't open (in all it's varied forms) and they'll be unable to do something differently so it will work.

I also realize I spend a lot of my life standing at the gate I can't open and crying because I don't know how else to do it.

My Son's Oral Fixation, Conquered (For Now Anyway).

Have I ever led you to believe I'm a calm and rational woman who is not easily flustered by the day to day grind of parenting?

Because if I did I'm terribly sorry. I am not at all calm or rational or even slightly sane. I am nothing but a flailing mentally unstable infant!

I don't really know why I bring this up right now, but I was thinking how I always totally fall off the deep end every time we experience a minor 'crisis' in this home. Potty training. I nearly died and you got to hear all about every moment of my come apart. The Big Deal. I'm not allowed to talk about, but it's going better and I've calmed down, mostly. Lice. Supreme freak out. I didn't shower for at least 3 days and roamed the drugstore aisles like a crazed lunatic. Loss of internet connection for a week. Meltdown! Meltdown! Meltdown!

I have a confession. Max will be 4 in March and he still had a pacifier. I know, I know. I can't believe it either. My 'I'd NEVER List' started out pretty short because many years ago a new mother said to me, wearily, "Never say never because you never know." It stuck with me and in six years even my short list of 'I'd Never's" has been systematically decimated.

But still, "MY child will never have a binky after age TWO!" stayed on the list, until Max turned two.

But then I had, "MY child will never have a binky after age two....out of his bed! But it will definitely be gone by age THREE!" on the list, until Max turned three.

Since then I've been blaming the Internet for my inability to take the binky away. Remember when that stupid, stupid Heather had the NERVE to think she knew what was best for her child and took the binky away from poor defenseless Leta? Remember how FUCKING PISSED the internet was after that?

I'm being sarcastic because I'm so jealous of Heather's supreme insight to take the binky away. I have been woken up in the night to find lost binkies for nearly four years now and I did it to myself. Jackass.

But really I sort of like it when the internet is pissed at me and throws insults I can't even understand at me, like, "Stupid Reatarded Bitch." I don't even know what reatarded is!

The truth is, I love my quiet time after the kids go to bed and I knew when we got rid of the binky I'd head back into Flailing Infantile Crisis Mode and since Lice Fest 2004 was just a few weeks ago, I don't think anyone is ready for that. Even you Internet, and you have it easy. Thank your lucky stars I don't have your phone number and this raging case of phone phobia because believe me the people I know have gotten some pretty obnoxious sobbing phone calls from me during various 'Crisis'.

I don't handle crying bedtimes very well. I like to read a short book, give a kiss, shut the door and go have a cocktail! I don't have time for tears at bedtime.

But then the binky's got impossibly disgusting. Also, Max got a big boy bed last week! In the past I could lift his toddler bed in the dark, with one hand, without my glasses and find the binky in seconds. With the big, heavy, (awesome) metal bed he has now (which Logan picked from the trash and stripped of all paint and sealed all the raw rusty metal.....Fuck, another thing he can do) I can't lift it without peeing my pants a little and bashing my skull with the side rails. It got really hard to convince myself that letting him keep his binky was easier than getting rid of it.

Also, I don't admit this very often. I have a soft spot in my heart for my children and the thought of taking away something which gave my sweet baby boy so much comfort and happiness, made me feel a little mean.

How would I feel if someone came and took away my cocktail hour? What if someone one day told me no more Text Twist? I'd be pretty pissed.

We put it off for almost two months. We had sitters coming over and we weren't going to leave an inconsolable (and also bi polar) 3 year old with an unwitting caregiver. We had friends without children coming over to our house for adult interaction and we didn't want Max screaming over the music and rendering our friends sterile with his unending wails for 'THE GOD DAMN BINKY!'

I built it up in my head and I pictured a detox period of weeks at least. Of cries and no sleep and screaming bedtimes and hell on earth.

Last Saturday we said we needed to send our binkies to our friend's baby, Mary. (She's so cute, I'm not even going to show you a picture because the Internet will then DEMAND she start her own blog.) We packed them up in a box and sent them C/O The Royal Oak Refuse Collection Department! Don't tell Max that part please.

Let me tell you about the first night.

Not. A. Single. Peep.

Not a word about the binky for 5 days. Then on the fifth night as I put him to bed he said, "I really miss my binky."

And I said, "I know. I bet Mary is really loving them because she's a baby and baby's need binkies."

He said, "Yeah."

The End.

Now, imagine how boring this blog would be if I didn't lose my mind anytime something even remotely challenging happened. Mental stability is so...boring.

I just shoveled so much snow I'm dead.

I have so much to talk about but I'm in a big hurry because we're having friends over tonight to play cards. Last time these friends came over I sobbed into a big pitcher of bloody marys, drank way too many bloody marys and also talked in excruciating detail about lice! (Which I just can't seem to stop doing. Everytime I open my mouth out comes more tales of lice.)

Speaking of lice, check this out!

My friend Jerry made it for me. He also made the martini picture and now I'm torn about which icon to use over there. Maybe I'll just make stationary for myself since that appears to be the only thing I can talk about anyway. Looking at that picture brings back all the fiery rage I feel for the lice which infested my holidays. Damn you all to hell.

Last weekend we went out for Meg's birthday. It was big fun, however we went bowling and I have some feelings about bowling. It's a goofy thing to do and as I've said before, even when you "win" you're never really a "winner". Meg's friends play bowling with a little poker thrown in. Keeping in mind you get a card when you get a spare and you get two cards when you get a strike. check out my cards. I won $14 I think. Which isn't going to buy us this, but almost. My last game was a 32, so remember when bowling, a little alcohol goes a long way. I wish someone would have warned Meg.

I have no way to tie these pictures in because it's 5:30 and the children are hungry and gnawing my arm off as I try to type this entry. But here is the cake Logan made for Meg. It's a play on the fact that she's single and nearing the age of Cat Lady (she owns only one cat now, but she's in the at risk category.) Also, this nice girl did the actual splits right in the lane, used to be a cheerleader, loves running and I still like her.

Also, when she entered my name on the bowling computer, she put me in as Number One Mommy...and you know how I feel about that.

I guess that's all. Sorry to be so disjointed but like I said, I'm dead.

Coming soon! Something even remotely interesting!

Even worms can reproduce...but can they write about it?

When I wrote about being nominated for this award I thought, 'Is this really a Mommy blog?' and I felt kind of uncomfortable with that name but then I'm never nominated for anything and this nomination came right after I lost the job that would have fit my needs perfectly for now and it made me feel like a pathetic drunken loser and the hosting thing sounded really nice, so whatever, Call me mommy! I needed a boost and a blog award seemed as good a boost as any.

Mommy Blog conjures up images of happy motherhood. Tales of the wonderment in the journey of Mommy-Hood. I think of 'Mommy Blog' and I think of stories of when the baby ate and how the baby slept and I definitely don't think of all this Fucking Swearing I Do ALL THE FUCKING TIME. But again, whatever.

The first time I mentioned the nomination I felt mostly like I needed to be appreciative for the nomination and I felt like I hadn't been nominated for anything in quite a while (ever), not even a job filing some stupid fucking papers at a social services agency.

Then I was winning the category and I felt like an asshole for even mentioning it at all. Like I was trying to win and was that really fair to play the 'Vote For Me!/Popularity' game and I felt ashamed of myself for caring and even a little embarassed.

Because Angela makes me laugh all the time. If she had permalinks on her site I could show you individually all the places I've laughed at her site. Recently the revelation that the Fluid Pudding family will welcome a "labia", has had me laughing ever since and the thought of a birth announcement. Well it's funny.

Then there's Very Mom and she has all these lovely graphics and her son waves his penis at delivery men and what's not to love there?

So it's all a little confusing to me how this BOB thing is working. Are we voting for the funniest person who happens to be a mother? Are we voting for the person who has something profound to say about motherhood? Are we voting for the person who needs free web hosting so they can buy formula for a baby?

I don't know.

So I've decided to share the things I've written in the past which relate most to the 'Mommy' thing so that maybe instead of me begging for votes you can just vote for the writing about motherhood I've done on this website because I have a feeling that's what this award in this category is supposed to be about. Unless you don't like the writing I've done on motherhood on this website then you should vote for someone who's writing you do like and don't vote 400 times a day using several different email addresses because my God is that ugly ugliness.

These are the things I've written over the last year which I think make me a solid vote for Best Mommy Blog. I don't know what the criteria is exactly but all of these things relate to my version of motherhood and I think that's what we're voting for in this particular category.

Vote as you see fit, just...let's all play nicely, hmm? And I promise someday my banner won't be holiday themed.

A Pickle Is Touching My Sandwich

Best Friends Forever

My God I Love This Potty!

Streamlining Suburbia

Puppy Love

The Last Diaper

First Day of School

You Can't Fight Biology

Big Boy Bed Ruining My Life

Never Ending Summer

Our Vacation Home In The South Of France

The Best Time I Didn't Know I Was Having.

Preschool Prozac

Noisy Toy Tutorial

Tabula Pasta

Day At The Pool

Maddie Turns Six

It's Like Motherhood Without The Kids

The Starbucks Suggestion

What Baby?

Sleep Centered Parenting

Will you call me Mommy?

Yesterday I shoveled the three square miles of concrete surrounding my home. I shoveled while my children smeared cold wet snow all over me. There may have been better ways to entertain the children but that was all I could come up with "Here! Throw snow at me. Just put it on me instead of throwing. Hooray SNOW DAYS!!!!"

Snow days mean: shoveling (really bad), no school (horrifying after 3 weeks of Lice Fest) and no bloody mary playgroup (THE WORST NEWS EVER).

I think our neighbor is gay and I think he wants Logan. I say this because the other day Logan took a spin at shoveling and our neighbor came over and cleared over half our concrete wonderland with his HUGE snowblower. Yesterday, when I was being smeared and pelted with snow while breaking my back, my neighbor cleared his tiny, non corner walk in about 3 minutes and then went back inside.

I'm taking it personally. But then I can't blaming him for wanting in Logan's pants. I just wish he was bi...lingual so I had a chance to get my walk cleared.

My sister used to use that joke with my grandfather all the time. "Grandpa, I'm bi [pause while my mother starts to choke on dinner]....LINGUAL!" And our grandfather would say, "Really? That's just wonderful dear." He'd say that everytime. (My sister is kind of bi lingual....otherwise I dont' know so don't ask because I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.)

Anyway, after shoveling was complete we headed to the market and I flung 5 bags of frozen vegetables onto the ground, spilling frozen mixed vegetables (NO LIMA BEANS Mr Marketable doesn't like LIMA BEANS) all over the aisle. Madison became hysterically convinced I would go to jail for this error, but I didn't.

The rest of the day I painted Max's room one wall at a time. In between the first wall I made a cake for Logan to decorate for his writing partner at work, Meg.

Paint some more.

Empty dishwasher.

Paint some more.

Make dinner.

Clean up from painting.

Wow this fell apart really quick. What I was trying to say is I BUSTED MY ASS YESTERDAY!

I'm not even done painting yet and the concrete wonderland could use another clearing but I'm not doing it.

Also I wanted to write because I tried to look up some cartoon images of lice or louse and I found a lot of pictures but none that I'd really like to have on this website.

This is nice but a little...primitive.

I like this one just because it reminds me all the hellish combing and picking I've done in the last 3 weeks.

This one shows the sinister nature of those demonic bugs, but still a bit primitive.

This one I like because it looks like that little boy is dreaming about lice. And God knows I've been thinking about lice a lot.

The look of horror here captures some of the emotion involved quite well.

Here is my favorite but those bugs almost look cute and cuddly and we all know they're not. They're evil!

Still working on a banner. Maybe when I'm done shoveling and painting and baking and cooking and entertaining children and celebrating birthdays.

Oh, by the way in honor of my nomination for Best Mommy Blog I'm now asking (demanding) everyone in the world call me Mommy. At first it was creepy but now I like it.

Meta Blogging.

A week or so ago I got an email from a reporter at the New York Times. I don't know why but something just seemed 'off' about the whole thing. I didn't think it was real and I had pretty much decided I'd be getting unending heavy breathing phone calls from 'The Reporter'. Which, you know, isn't a bad thing necessarily.

But then yesterday my phone rang while in the bathroom at Target with Max and it was 'The Reporter'. (Taking calls in the bathroom of Target=another strike against going all cell.) I rejected the call through to voice mail and called back 'The Reporter' when I got home and gave Max a television induced lobotomy so I could listen to 'The Reporter' breathing heavily into my ear.

But when I called him back he just wanted to talk about blogging, which I make a point of not doing typically. And still, even after the interview I could believe it was for real, so I Googled 'The Reporter' and then realized he was actually a real person who happens to write for the New York Times and I tried to remember what the hell I said because half of me was thinking, 'Oh sure, now he wants to know why I blog but pretty soon he'll ask me what I'm wearing and start breathing heavily into my ear.'

I worry it may have effected my ability to answer the questions. Don't forget I also have phone phobia and generally sound mildly autistic in person or on the phone.

I read at The Zero Boss that 'The Reporter' mentioned "In my ten years of interviewing, I've never met such a suspicious group of people."

I am only speaking for myself here, but what 'The Reporter' should know about the rampant skepticism regarding his desire for an interview is that, uhm, you're from the New York Times and I'm just writing about lice and selling my son in a yard sale and wanting to dip my children in chocolate and swallow them whole and also about drinking.

So yes, I find it a little unbelievable that someone would want to know about why I'm writing this website. Shocking might be a better word for it.

As an aside, I got an email today and the nice gentleman said, "...you make me not feel like such a boozer for drinking while a parent."

New Tag Line: "Making everyone else feel less alcoholic!"

The interview was really focused on why people blog, why I blog, why I read blogs which, to be honest, makes my head hurt and I realized while talking to him how I don't really have any insight at all about why I blog or why people read blogs or why I enjoy reading them.

I have so much to say about motherhood and about loving my children but hating a lot of the daily work one must do to raise happy healthy and lice free children. I just don't really have a lot to say about blogging.

'The Reporter' asked me why I blog. I said something stupid like, "Duh...I like to tell stories and I ran out of people to tell them to in my real life. Did I just notice you breathing heavily in my ear? I KNEW IT!"

(Not really.)

What I should have said is, "I like to write because I've always been better at writing than talking. Writing allows me to laugh at myself and the hard times and find my way through the darkness. I understand myself more when I write. I write on my website for the same reason some people are writers in the traditional publishing world. I just want people to read what I have to say."

Or I wish I would have said, "Between you and me....BLOGS WILL TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!!! THE WORLD!!!!!!!"

I'm glad I got that out.

I need inspiration for a new banner. I'm about to let Mr Marketable Skills help me but I'd love to do another banner on my own. My illustrator skills are limited, severely, so I like simple clean designs.

Sometimes I'll see an idea on a website and I'll think 'I can do that!' (or something sort of kind of like that)

What websites inspire you?

Even if you go non traditional, it's a clock.

Didn't you wonder what I did for New Year's Eve? You were avoiding asking weren't you because you knew I'd start crying again.

But I won't, I had a lovely time. We have a bit of a tradition with our friends John and Asa. You remember them? Each year we meet for a drink early in the evening on New Year's Eve. I like this tradition and guess what? I tried out the hugging thing and I restrained myself from the (((Tap Tap Tap)). I didn't talk about the lice (I think I didn't). Also, I only briefly shed tears about the fact that I am unemployable.

This compared to Thursday night, was like the best night of my life. On Thursday Sarah and Brian came over to play cards and I didn't hug anyone and I talked about lice for like, two straight hours, then I sobbed into a pitcher of bloody mary's like an asshole. I wasn't an asshole because I was crying but because I made a PITCHER of bloody mary's and drank them all myself because I was simply too busy crying and talking about lice to make individual cocktails for myself.

New Tagline: "I'm depressed! I don't have time for mixing!"

Back to John and Asa on New Year's Eve. (Did you know John has a website too? But he doesn't even talk about lice. Bor-ing. Unless you like music then it's a really cool site.)

Remember John's hair got married in June?

I told John over and over the traditional first anniversary gift is paper but he insisted he'd read somewhere it's a baby.

So yes, they're having a baby for their anniversary. I got a new kitchen island for my first anniversary, they're having a baby.

Here are some photos from New Year's Eve for you to "enjoy". (And yes I'm using the quotes "ironically")

Freshly Shorn: Here is Logan sans goatee. Of course, please note the hair is already growing back, just one hour after he shaved. He's that testosterone laden. Also, John combed and also CUT his hair.

Cheesiest Picture Ever: I hope this was done for effect only.

Always Festive: Here I am, actually drowning my sorrows. Or just crying.

Here we are not actually saying anything. I'm not showing you the one where John pretended to kiss me and I'm making the most stupid 3rd grade 'Ewww! OMG! Boys are so icky but also strangely interesting to me' face in the world.

And as 2004 came to a close, I realized: "Since going digital I am either around more drunk people* or just documenting it more."

*Asa wasn't drunk, but she confided in me that she's eating ALL SORTS OF RAW FISH because I guess all the pregnant people in Japan do and I told her, "You aren't in Japan anymore!" If she ever gets a blog I'll be sure to give you the address so you can all tell her how she's KILLING HER BABY WITH SUSHI! We all know how the Internet loves unsolicited advice. Not you guys though.

Unrelated: New connection is up and I love email! melissasummers @ wowway.com (no spaces there, Sport [Mother])

Related to the unrelated: Also if I haven't answered any of your email and you're like 'God she is such a bitch!' I don't know what your problem is because I'm always a bitch and I always forget to answer email, why are you all huffy now?

But while setting up my new mail server settings I typed in 'SMPT' instead of 'SMTP', but didn't realize it and couldn't for the life of me figure out why I couldn't send mail from my mail program.

I spent all day sending test messages to myself which read, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS STUPID FUCKING PROGRAM!!!!!" When I finally realized my mistake and entered 'SMTP', I was suddenly flooded with angry mail....from myself.

Which in the scheme of things is probably the best kind of angry mail to get.

It's Like Bruschetta.

Last night I coated Madison's hair in olive oil and then we put tomatoes on her head and scooped it all up with lovely circles of crusty bread. Yum! I like to think I take lemons and make lemonade....or bruschetta....whatever.

I'm at my home away from home, the coffee shop with Max...and only Max! I wish I'd brought my camera because he's got his little suitcase full of tiny plastic animals and silly putty and he's playing across the table from me and it's times like this that I think I have the most awesomely well behaved children in the world.

Last night we did the olive oil treatment and though I didn't find any dead bugs or anymore nits, it appears my daughter is molting. She's had a ton of dry skin from all the neurotoxins I dumped on her scalp in the last 2 weeks but the olive oil peeled it all off and deposited it all over her hair but my goodness you could add a little garlic and serve that hair on pasta. Bellisimo!

When I took her to the school office/lice checkpoint I told the secretary (not the Dead Rat PTA President who told me to use a chemical shampoo on her head...you know, since I HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT) that I'd done 3 chemical treatments, 2 homeopathic sodium based treatments, 1 mayonaisse treatment, 1 olive oil treatment, 400 loads of hot water laundry, vacuuming through 8 vacuum bags, 689 nit picking sessions and so if she told me to use a chemical shampoo on her head I'd squash her head like a grape.

No really I told her, in detail, all the treatments I'd done and I said if she found a single nit on her head I would spontaneously combust. Then I told her to go vote for me.

Maddie is back at school. Logan is back at work. My cable line goes in today between 4 and 6pm.

Maybe things can start looking up now.

**Link fixed. Oops.**

I wonder if I can get that chicken out of the trash.

God, in all His infinite wisdom, knew I would have a mini crisis just as the new year started and He also knew everytime I touched the internet I would spread doom and gloom and 'Whoa-Is-Me-ness' and He didn't want that.

However, I'm at the coffee shop now (not stealing 'Nathan's Network' or the one outside I guess Brad's house called 'Brad!' or the one I felt most comfortable stealing 'Moms Network'....because if she's a mother I'm sure she'd understand my depravity.)

I have just one nice thing to say and I'm putting it up here. I'm nominated for a BoB Award and that's neat-o. I didn't want to post about it because I'm not nominated in the Blog Whore category. But then I didn't want to seem ungrateful. And still I'm having a hard time getting very excited about anything right now. So the fact that there is any happiness in this post is really a miracle.

I realize things could always be worse. I could have family or friends who were killed in a totally incomprehensibly horrific tsunami. I am very blessed in so many ways which have nothing to do with money, career success, marketable skills or lice killing. I am not at all blessed in any of those areas. However, I am so lucky this is the worst thing I'm dealing with. I know that so PUH LEEZE just let my blog be a gray and gloomy place for a while until I pick myself back up.

Now, onto the shitty parts. Note I say Parts, because I am in full 'This is the Suckiest Suck That Ever Sucked' mode and believe me Logan's suffered enough.

Sample conversation:

Me: "This salmon is so good thanks for making it. You're an excellent cook. Hm...there's another marketable skill for you. What is that now? Seven for Logan, none for Melissa?" ((((Sobbing follows))))
Him: "Uh......"

So yes, you can imagine how nice this is for him and I'm sorry Internet it's your turn to listen now.

Okay so I lost the job I wanted. Yes it was a File Clerk job and it's very nice of you all to tell me I'm above that but I'm not. I wanted a job with morning to early afternoon hours. With little to no contact with the public. I wanted a certain amount of money. This job had all of that. Max would enjoy daycare, Maddie would be at school with no Delinquency 101 class after school (also known as Latch Key). Most importantly it would provide a regular paycheck to pad our flailing budget each month.

Though menial and silly it fit into my needs for now quite well. Gone!

Then there was the very important thing I couldn't talk about back in December...but I asked for all the good luck you could spare for my husband because this thing would change our lives and make my need/desire for a job, any job, a much less desperate search.

The very important thing happened to be a huge promotion Logan was up for with two other people. We went to a party at the potential boss's house and though I didn't have new shoes I was very charming and witty and I didn't drink too much. Though I did ask the Boss Of Everything if he cuddled with another man on a flight. Perhaps that did it.

The position has been eliminated entirely.....that dream is now shattered too.

When that position was eliminated I kept myself upbeat thinking that I would be getting this job I lost on the last day of 2004. I felt quite confident at least one good thing would happen and 2005 would start with us on our way to our financial goals.

But wait it gets better. So much better but I have to write it quick because I have to go back home and paint my daughter's hair in olive oil.

That's right, the lice are back. They were gone. After 5 different treatments, I had them all. I am positive about this fact. But today I did another inspection and found five more eggs.

Which is perfect since school starts back up tomorrow and Maddie missed the entire week before break started so she hasn't been at school for 3 weeks.

Thank God I'm on medication because I am so incredibly deflated if it weren't for the medication coursing through my blood right now I would be nothing but a pool of nothingness on the ground and unfortunately, that isn't a marketable skill either.

Before my job interview last week I met my sister for lunch. We ate thai food and I had chicken satay in spicy peanut sauce. I ate four of the five pieces of satay but Damn My Stomach To Hell, I just couldn't fit the last one in.

As our waiter removed my plate he said, "In Thailand we always say the last satay is lucky. The girl who eats it will have great luck. A most handsome boyfriend maybe...."

And I thought to myself, I'm married to the former Mr Rock and Roll Hair I don't need a boyfriend! Looking back though from this deflated place I'm sitting in, maybe it would have been wise to ask for the last piece of satay in a carry out box labeled:

"In Case Of Emergency"

Photo Disclaimer.

I like to take pictures of my children and my friends.

I don't typically carry around a stack of model release forms with me, and generally it seems a little conceited to ask, "Do you mind if I spotlight you on my personal website?" So I just don't take the time to ask for permission.

Also, sometimes when I'm taking pictures of my children or my friends, other people inadvertantly walk into the frame and although I could white out everyone's face, that just seems so silly.

There are a few things to remember about me and this website. I have a crass sense of humor, it is not intended to offend you but sometimes people do not share the same sense of humor. It's really nothing to get so angry about you can't even speak.

It's something to politely ask me to remove if it involves you or yours. I am more than happy to comply with your wishes.

At the same time it seems fair for you to start at a place of cooperation, a place which gives me the chance to right the situation you feel has wronged you. A place which allows me to remedy your feelings without involving all the people I KNOW in our silly issue. If we have no negative history between us, why would you assume I intended to so gravely injure you?

So why don't you not. If you're here and you've seen a picture of your child or yourself and you'd like me to remove it. Please email me at melissasummers [at] wowway.com and I will promptly remove or white out your face and also offer up my most sincere apologies and assurance that it was never my intent to make you uncomfortable or unhappy.