Category Archives: parody

I Was Not the First Person to Think of Cat Boxing and Other Crappy Ideas

So, in yesterday’s post, Why They Should Have Cat Boxing at Camp or What Happens When You Have to Send Letters about your Boring Summer, I had a stroke of brilliance. Unfortunately, I was not the first — and so, I cannot take credit for inventing “Cat Boxing.” Of course, I’d like to because let’s face it, it’s pretty ingenious. I guess exceptionally gifted *genii like myself should expect set backs in a world where most of the thoughts have already been thunk. Therefore, I’ve added some addendum’s to yesterday’s post to ensure that I don’t get sued by rabid cat lawyers. Continue reading

Binge Watching TV Has Turned Me Into The Paranoid, Drunk, Lesbian I am Today

binge watching tvOver the years I’ve let some pretty stellar entertainment pass me by, like: Breaking BadWeedsLost, Shameless, Game of ThronesHomeland, Mad Men … due to this crazy thing called life. You know life, right? The whole raising a family, having a job, trying to maintain a certain age, weight, and level of sanity (though your body fights you on it) thing? Yeah, that.

I’ve heard how enthralling and addictive these shows are but life got in the way. Well, that’s over. I’ve pretty much given up my life lately to binge watch some of these shows, so that I can have more stimulating conversations with people five years ago.

That said, I’ve found a strange effect from binge watching shows, aside from the one that makes me appear comatose and unresponsive. I start to feel like a character in these shows. Like they’re actually affecting my personality. For instance …

1) While I watched 8,000 episodes of Breaking Bad in, like, a week, Continue reading

A Tale of Two Titties – Mine (A Hilarious Breast Cancer Awareness Month Tale and Reminder)

After a lump scare in my late-20′s, I learned that all lumps are not the C-word and it’s totally okay to get to 2nd base with yourself!

two tittiesLet me tell you a tale, a tale of two titties (oh, how that word makes me cringe, but it’s so much better for the pun)…

After finding a pea sized lump and getting a needle biopsy, I was told that like the several million other young women with fibrous breast tissue, I would be required to get a yearly mammogram and ultrasound.

I’d heard horrible tales of the mammogram and it’s crushing pain. I feared the impending torture and dreaded that, what little my child bearing and breastfeeding had left unscathed, would be permanently altered.

By the time my appointment had rolled around, the fear of having something less benign than a fibroid cyst had started to set in, as well.  If I can produce one kind of growth with no knowledge of it, why can’t I produce another kind?

While contemplating in the waiting room, I saw a woman, not a day under 100.  OK, if she can do this, so can I, I thought, resigned to get through this. Continue reading

Happy Fathers Day to my Stubborn Hubby From Your Bitchy Wife

cat couple card

I know, you’re like, bring on the water works.  I mean with a title like that there’s bound to be a sentimental, emotionally charged poem to follow, right?  Well, you’ll have to see, but (Spoiler Alert), probably not .  Not all of us have perfect marriages.  Frankly, most of us don’t and I kinda think that’s OK.  There’s some value in being a sometimes sucky wife –  just ask my hubby…

I’m like many of you – going at the last minute to buy some cheesy cards that cost $5 bucks a pop and do little more than add to deforestation. I avoid the overly-sweet ones with watercolor painting on the front because my marriage isn’t perfect and the sentiments in those cards don’t quite reflect my feelings. So, I go with humor.

In fact, I’ve noticed that my husband and I have this weird tendency to re-buy the same multi-fold-out cards for each other on our respective holidays year after year.

The Father’s day card has a cat couple and it goes something like this: Continue reading

April Fools Suckas – I Got You Good

warningsuckersIn honor of April fools I want to say something to you insolent chumps! For years I’ve been writing this blog, biding my time for this very moment: APRIL FOOLS!!!

Yes, all these years you’ve come here looking for my observations on the ironies of life … oh, I’ll give you irony.  I’ve completely duped you into thinking I’m just like you — a parent who can’t remember where I left my keys, nay, my kids … a quasi desperate housewife who may or may not make eyes at the pool guy, who can’t stand the way her husband leaves dishes by the sink, and who has ridiculous conversations with people while their nipples are showing (that happened more than once, hence the plurals). Continue reading

15 Tips to Help Moms Survive Life in Suburbia

15 Rules to Survive Life in the Suburbs #humor #mom #funny #suburbia #suburbsNearly a decade ago, I moved to the suburbs from NYC (it’s the sole reason I started my blog).  In that time I’ve learned some pretty important things to ensure my survival, nay, my sanity.

If my ‘burb sent out a handbook it would look something like this. Feel free to use it as a mini-survival guide. Good luck and in the words of that guy on Hill Street Blues, ‘Hey, let’s be careful out there.’

  1. All children must be signed up for multiple sports and extracurricular activities, to ensure that no family can plan anything on a Saturday until their kids are too old to want to spend Saturday’s with their family.
  2. Do NOT be alarmed if you try to enter the wrong minivan or SUV, this is common. Try to lessen the confusion by putting fun stickers on your back windshield representing each of your children performing their favorite activity.
  3. You can paint your house one of 477 shades of tan.  Other colors will be categorically denied, so don’t even try it!
  4. If your child has strep or hand foot and mouth, be aware that the entire town will know about it before you get his/her prescription filled. PS this same urgency in passing news applies to affairs as well!
  5. As a suburban mom you are expected to start some kind of craft business immediately. Your choices are: hair accessories, jewelry, embellished clothing, or things you can print on card stock — anything else must be cleared through the Chamber of Commerce.
  6. If you already have a job, you are expected to purchase these crafted goods, in bulk, at the myriad of local holiday boutiques that celebrate everything from Ramadan to Flag Day.  Like PTA meetings, being absent is frowned upon.
  7. If you do not find a grocery store or Starbucks within one mile of your current position, you’re lost and have entered an inferior neighborhood! Please stay calm and return to your suburb immediately.
  8. You are required to join a gym.  There, you must take spin classes with disco lighting, pretzel yourself into a reformer, and learn the art-form that is Zumba.
  9. You will be expected to pressure clean anything and everything from your sidewalk to your dog. Be prepared.
  10. Make sure your dog is cute, as neighbors will constantly stop to pet it. Be warned, the same neighbors will turn you in to the association the first time Rufus barks after 9PM. (Don’t name your dog Rufus)
  11. Make an immediate trip to lululemon/Athetica/GapBody/Target … and pick up workout/athletic/golf/tennis gear that’s trendier than simply wearing sweatpants.  Wear these goods at least 50 -100% of the time; in the winter, simply wear your athletic gear with Uggs.
  12. You will need to attend a mind-numbing amount of birthday lunches/dinners for ladies turning anywhere from 30-50.  Get there early, as who you sit next to (or don’t sit next to) can make or break your day.
  13. Cut back on sex ASAP, as you will find yourself in conversations where moms discuss their infrequent, and unsatisfying sex life regularly — at lunches, parties, dinners, play-dates.
  14. And stop giving blow-jobs! People in the ‘burbs are only expected to give them on birthdays and anniversaries (it’s one of the perks).
  15. Living in the ‘burbs is a little like reading Us Weekly: Everything is sensationalized. It’s fun to discuss “who wore it best,” but not as much fun as playing Fashion Police. You will find yourself looking for cellulite/wrinkles on young skinny moms. And gossip is treated as gospel.

I hope this helps you fit into the suburban life you’ve chosen.  Maybe I’ll see you at the next boutique sale — I’ll be selling picture frames with random findings glued on to them!

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First Bennifer Then TomKat Now DiRhea | Celeb Break Ups Test My Marriage

Like with debacle that was Tom and Katie’s marriage, or the demise of any celeb union, for that matter, Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman’s split, directly impacted my chance at a lazy  happy marriage, don’t act like it didn’t affect you!

Everyone remembers when Devito and Perlman got together right? I mean, I wasn’t born yet but I heard tales.  Yep, just like Brad and Angie, it was a whirlwind — or something like that.  Fine, I just know that they’re both short and funny and if short funny people can’t stay together… who can?  Who can?

Ummm lesson learned. Do not marry someone as short or funny as you!

Listen, following the love lives of celebrities is like couples therapy … only cheaper. I think we’ve all learned some pretty amazing things  for the price of a weekly gossip mag:

The Travolta’s taught me to avoid marrying arguably gay Scientologists, but if I must marry one, to now know that the house must be staffed with people who give happy endings and sign confidentiality agreements.

Brangelina justified me spending our entire life savings on a Chateau in France for my family to live in.  That was the best week ever! Hey, do you think I can trade my food stamps for flying lessons?

I learned from TomKat that marriages with buyout clauses and auditors rarely work. Though sharing lipstick and Louboutins with your 4 year old is always a super awesome idea.

Posh and Becks made me see the need to conceive another child, with the sole purpose of naming it something totally random like, Stockbroker or Almondbutter or Miami.

R. Patz and K. Stew’s recent reconciliation taught me that the love of your life should totally take you back if you get caught on camera, making out with another man. Which is why I unexpectedly mounted a local anchorman in the middle of his “Live at 5” newscast (BTW they really don’t wear pants behind the desk!).

And yes, “DiRhea” once gave me the impetus to stick it out in the tough times to attain similar longevity.

Sure, their celebrity morph name wasn’t the sexiest, but it didn’t stop me from asking Mark during heated arguments, “What would DiRhea do?”

He rarely answered, but I like to think the mere inquiry got us through some tough times.

Now, with the news of DiRhea’s marital demise, I realize, there’s no finish line. You can never throw your hands in the air, run through the proverbial ribbon, and scream “We won! We lasted 3 decades, now we get to coast!”

No, on the contrary, it proves that we’re gonna have to work at this whole marriage thing for like, ever, which sucks because I’m pretty much phoning it in already.  At this point my kids are numero uno and after a short list of important things, like our pets, success, and freshly folded laundry, comes my man.

So thank you DiRhea, because of you I’ll make my hubby a higher priority in my life. Well, within reason.

I mean, if Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that when women get divorced, they find younger, hotter, more energetic men — with abs!  Madonna, Halle, Demi, Katie C., Mariah, Susan S., Ellen B., you give hope to us all… mmmmmm abbbbs!