The saddest thing about today is that yesterday I used the phrase “sad little bitchtwig” with great artistic flare, and nobody is likely to read it.

Except Tatiana.

Hi Tati!

Wallace:

He’s amazing. Amazing. He sits up, he chatters to us, he laughs and plays and has started snarking if you try and take something he’s busy with. If he wants something he’ll now actually consider rolling for it, instead of opting to do without it rather than dealing with the hated rolling. He’s starting to turn into an actual little person, and he’s so much fun. Which makes up for how difficult it’s getting to make him sit still for a diapering. SIT STILL, POOPY BABY!

He’s just such a happy, friendly little guy.

You wouldn’t believe how well he traveled and how happily he played with his Nana and Grandpa B.

Grandpa Joe is in town this weekend and I imagine it will be mayhem. I’m really excited. MAYHEM!

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or: What we’re never doing again

First of all - SUCCESS! Hooray! The plane didn’t crash. But I’d like you to know that my mom said that I could go ahead and have the word “fucking” on my grave marker and it wouldn’t unduly upset her, so, totally score!

But we survived and Xanex does make the world alright. It wasn’t fun and I can’t say I enjoyed flying, but while I usually spend most of the time bawling like a pewling infant (no offense Wallace), on the Xanex I was mildly uncomfortable at the hideous turbulence. Again, score!

The trip itself was an absolute blast. If you wanted to, you could always peruse the pictures by clicking here, and you’d see a happy Nana, Grandpa B, and baby. We also managed to find a Children’s Place outlet that had $30 winter clothing on sale for, (and I can’t say this without unseemly drooling), $1.99 per clothing item. *droooooooool*. We managed to stock him up for the coming winter for $35. Plus he has a whole new summer wardrobe and enough new toys that a band of active chimps would be entertained for an entire year.

However, lest you all think I’ve turned into some positive-thinking schmuck, I wanted to tell you about Ted. Our friend Ted is the discount airline of United. United: we’re total cunts and it shows.

I have never ever had such a horrible time on an airline ever in my life. Pre-boarding? No. Change seating? No. But I knew I was with a class act when I asked for an additional packet of peanuts and got a “no”. Class. All the way. Not to mention the stewardess that shouted at me for having my baby in the aisle while the cleaning crew was trying to get by me into the plane. As in, we were gathering things together and he was in my arms and she said, “Get out of the WAY!”.

When I was waiting for Andy to return the car in Dulles there was a large black man hurling himself about in an agressive manner at people unfortunate enough to try and check into Ted with luggage to check, “DO YOU HAVE YOUR TAGS PEOPLE? DO YOU? WE WILL NOT CHECK BAGS WITHOUT IDENTIFICATION TAGS! FIND YOUR TAGS! FILL OUT YOUR TAGS! JEEZ, YOU HAVE TO HAVE A TAG, LADY!” It’s at those moments that I find pepper spray, or possibly something stabby, to be the only reasonable alternatives.

Ted, and all his minions may, just this once, if they’ve brushed their teeth, lick my pucker.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMA! You’re the best-looking 50 year old I’ve ever seen. And a damn fine woman, besides!

You guys totally make enduring a crappy airline worth it. We’ll visit again soon. (And sorry about the gratuitous swearing)

Love,

K

P.S. - Confidential to the Raging Bitch With Gonnoreah in front of us with the pukey kid: They all preferred my child’s brief crying to your child’s extended heaving and filling the cabin with puke odor. And if we hadn’t have been in such a public place I would seriously have considered rearranging your nose just for fun.

Here’s a tip: Don’t snit at women who outweigh you by 100lbs. I could have sat on you and broken you like a sad little bitchtwig.

(sorry, ma)

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Man leaving message for boss sees car accident. Narrates. Hi-fucking-sterical. A must-listen.

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Or: I apologize in advance for this foul-mouthed entry.

Today Baby Wallace takes his first flight. We’re taking a short hop from Chicago to go see my mother in honor of her 50th birthday, and everything should be just fine. Unfortunately I have a raging case of this little thing called aerophobia.

*POOF*

“Hello zere.”

Hello there, Imaginary Freud!

“Und how may I be of zervice today?”

“Well, Dr. Imaginary Freud, I’m going on this plane trip, see, and it’s terrifying. I hate flying. I don’t know how I’m going to handle it.”

“Vell, vhat toolz do you hav to deal vis ze pressure?”

“Tools? My Real Psychiatrist gave me some severe mild medication to get through this flight and is going to recommend a behavioral therapist for long-term work.”

“Vell, vat’s the problem zen? Vhy am I here?”

“Because here’s my dilemma. I’m perfectly aware that flying is outrageously safe. That I’m in more danger of being hit by lightening twice than I am of dying in a plane crash. That I’d have more liklihood of winning the lottery. Planes are outrageously safe.”

“Yez?”

“But what it feels like… When I’m on a plane I’m absolutely 100% certain the plane is going to crash. Even as I’m chastizing myself for an idiot, I’m clutching on to the arm rests and trying not to vomit in fear.”

“Go on.”

“I feel like a goat that is walking in front of an alligator. Even though the alligator’s never attacked before, I still feel like I’m pushing my luck and one day the alligator’s going to get me. And now I’m walking in front of that alligator with my baby. Goats in front of an alligator. That’s how it is.”

“Mmmhmm. You realize in your analogy, ze alligator vould be actually an alligator-zchaped rock, yez? Zat allzough you perceive danger, none actually exzists?”

“Yeah. I get that. My baby and I wandering deliberatley in front of an alligator-shaped rock that I think is an alligator. Great. Anyhow, my instinct says to take the meds and check out for some of the flight so that I don’t freak out my kid or upset my husband. Flying is a reality for me, but I don’t have the skills yet to deal with it appropriately.”

“Zo, again, vhat’s ze problem?”

“Well, if the implausible happens and the plane does go down, I want my last acts to be looking at my husband and baby, not being drugged up to my eyeballs.”

“… I zee.”

“I had trouble sleeping last night because I’m so nervous.”

“Ah! Now vee are in my territory! Vhat did you dream about?”

“I dreamt I was a Japanese secret agent and then I was shooting a film about Japanese secret agents and then I flirted with Fez from That 70’s Show by unexpectedly kissing him on the cheek and he didn’t know that it was just in keeping with my character and so he asked me out to drinks and in the dream I wasn’t married so I thought ‘why not?’ and was planning on going with him and then I woke up.”

“..”

“..”

“I’m very zorry, I zimply can’t help you…
Veirdo.”

*POOF*

“Well SCREW YOU, IMAGINARY FREUD!”

Seriously, kids. If the unthinkable happens and my plane does go down this weekend and I die in a very Alanis-ironic way, I want you to remember some things:

or: Separated at birth?

Baby Wallace!

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I like the ABC song!

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Not hair in baby food.

Hair:

In the end I got this cut

And my color is an ashy blonde with peroxided highlights and some dark Burgundy lowlights. It’s striking, in a Sharon Stone kind of way, and pretty short. I look really good as a blonde and the hair is attractive and a bit aggressive, if you know what I mean.

I do have to wear makeup with it though, or I look pretty butch. The haircut is not a shy and retiring haircut.

But when you’re hit on by a 17 year old while walking home from the hairdresser’s, you know it’s a good cut. Pictures soon.

Baby Food:

Andy and I are totally into preparing our own baby food. It’s outrageously easy and much, much cheaper than the organic jarred stuff.

Here are directions on making your own baby food, and some tips:

Making Baby Food

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Wallace News!

He is officially out of his nine to twelve month clothes and is firmly on to the 12 to 18 month stuff. He just turned 7 months old on the 10th of this month. Good lord, the boy can grow.

We’ve also just entered “Stranger Danger!” phase. That boy knows absolutely who is an is not his mommy and daddy. We were at a friend’s house last night and he had a fit when they tried to talk to him. After a little bit he calmed down, but then he kept grabbing my arm periodically throughout the evening to make sure I was still there. It was so cute.

This morning he cried like his heart would break and reached for his daddy when he got dropped off at day care. And you know that Wallace loves his DCP and loves the other kids and even gets cranky if he doesn’t get to go to day care. Poor Andy felt like the worst daddy in the world.

Wallace also had a little bit of a fever last night, so he might be coming down with something, or he might be teething. He’s also wanting a bottle more than solid food (he has been ALL ABOUT solid food until a few days ago) and he may be getting ready for a big cognitive leap. If I’m posting about crawling in a few weeks, remind me about this post.

I’m going to be keeping a close eye on my scamp this weekend.

Speaking of this weekend - HAIRCUT

I’m getting my hairs cut this weekend. Most, if not all, of them.

You know it’s bad when your husband turns to you, smiles warmly, uses the “careful” voice and chirrups “You know, you look REALLY GREAT with short hair.”

That, my darling dears, is what’s known as a HINT.

So I’m going blonde instead of my usual red and I’m cutting it off. Here are some cuts I’m considering:

1.

2.

3.

I’m also looking at some here. The guy is a short-hair fetishist, which is a little, I dunno, unnecessary; but he has a great collection of pictures of short hair.

These are a few I’m choosing from.

So what do you think? Any favorites?

P.S.

I’m slowly feeling better, thanks.

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in all its permutations

As you may or may not know, I myself am a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy ophile. I love the books, I love the people who love the books, and love the people who love me for loving the books. They are funny, insightful, and don’t take themselves too seriously (both the people and the books).

The movie is coming out and I’m so excited that if I think about it too much I’ll wet my pants, so I try not to think about it too often. However, if you share my pants-wetting excitement, here are some links to get you started on your journey before sitting down at the movie theatre.

H₂G₂ - An online Guide where you are the researcher and can submit articles for entry.

For example, if you were to say, I don’t know, find out about Swing Dancing, you can look up an article that is astoundingly well written and should have been up for a Pulitzer this year. *ahem* *ahem*

The Guide is also finally being hepped up and de-contaminated for PDAs. How cool is that?? A real Guide!

Another excellent site for all things H₂, is Floor 42, which is astonishingly well put together.

If you must jump right to the cinematic experience, wander over here to the official, and impressive, movie website for some fun and games.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go change my trousers.

EEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

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A Cat Town Tribute to Jerry Orbach.

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