Girl Scout Cookies

In honor of the most awesome fact that my husband ran into a Girl Scout at the grocery store and brought us back Thin Mints and Peanut Butter Patties, I thought I should repost Eric’s rant from last year about this yearly treat and/or frustration. This year, it was a treat for sure. Thank goodness we leave for Thailand next Monday, or I’d have to buy bigger pants. North Carolina makes people fat. It’s not my fault, really. Staying thin here is absolutely impossible. And PS, how come Eric hasn’t made a blog post in MONTHS? Why dontcha ask him, hmm? -K

Last night was a lot like every other night. I woke up at 3am to use the bathroom. Instead of just going back to sleep as I usually do, I decided to destroy and conquer a box of Girl Scout cookies. I love those things. As I was sitting in bed doing my best cookie monster impression, I started to think about the Girl Scout cookie industry and I came to this conclusion: Girl Scouts are worse than any criminal enterprise out there. Think about it. Unless you buy them in front of the grocery store from the pint-size peddlers, you have to fill out an order in advance. A co-worker comes by with the form and you think, “of course, I’ll contribute to a good cause for the kids” and you put in your request for a few boxes of Thin Mints. Then you kind of forget about them for a while until it hits you like a ton of bricks when you’re hungry…Girl Scout cookies are the bomb and you must have the now! So you contact the parent (aka The Middle Man) whose kid sold them to you (AKA The Street Dealer) and ask, “Where the fuck are my goddamned Girl Scout cookies?” (That was the actual email that I sent to Karyn’s co-worker this year, no joke.) The parent gives you some runaround about why they haven’t come in yet and assures you that they will be here soon. I call bullshit! I totally think that the kids and the parents have the cookies all along, they just hold onto them so that when you finally get them, they’re better than they are. I mean, really, they sell those cookies at the store, just without the smiley, green outiftted girls on the box, and no one buys them. The parents figured this out early  and they created a nation of good people hooked on Thin Mints.

I admit, I want a kid just so I can get in on that action and have an endless supply of these sweet, sweet cookies. Mmmmmmm. -E

The Middle

I watched this new show on ABC with Patricia Heaton and The Janitor From Scrubs (hmm, I’m sure he has a name too but I dunno). ABC tried to trick me into thinking it was funny by putting it on Wednesday night with my Modern Family and Cougartown, as if it were worthy. Nuh-uh, network execs, suck on a skinny decaf Coffee Bean Ice Blended, I’m not buying it. It felt to me like Malcolm in the Middle. Which leads me to the title. Maybe they were throwing a hint at the Malcolm audience to watch. I wasn’t a part of the Malcolm audience. So.

I will give Patty Heaton props (why do I do that, shorten actor’s names to nicknames like I know them, I was just talking to Bobby DeNiro about that, and he was all, Kar, you’re a trip, I love that about you)…the episode opened with her trapped in a store after hours, and she says (I will have to quote from memory here because my googling didn’t turn up the exact phrase, but): Why am I trapped in a store? Well, the answer to any reason for why you’re stuck in a surreal situation is always either kids or drugs. And for me, it’s kids.

Ha. I laughed. Then I deleted the rest of the episode because it was all downhill from there, and watched a woman buy a new apartment in Berlin on House Hunters International. Now THERE’S a show that makes me happy. -K

Saturday’s Baby

Gives a whole new meaning to “waterproof outfit”. -K

(Via Darryle, thanks!)

Fingers Crossed, AKA Travel Update & Nothing To Do With Kids, Really

Except for the fact that, if we had kids, we wouldn’t be doing all of this.

As you may have guessed if you come here often, our plan to go to Thailand and other parts of Southeast Asia hit a few speedbumps and obstacles over the holiday season. But it seems that we’re back on track now and all set to go on February 15. Please say a little prayer *now* for that plan to work out if you’re on good terms with God, and if you’re not, skip the prayer, I don’t want to get involved in your drama with God right now, I’m skating on thin ice myself.

Our hope is to spend some time on our own, exploring and meeting people, and to spend some time volunteering with various organizations, most likely Openmind Projects (teaching English), Habitat for Humanity (building homes), and the Elephant Nature Reserve (rehabilitating elephants used wrongly for tourism). As well as Thailand, we plan to go to Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, and Bali.

We’ll update the blog as often as we can and post lots of pictures. Travel like this has been a dream of mine for a long time and the thought of helping people while learning about new cultures makes me all bouncy. The flight attendants are gonna have a hell of a time keeping me buckled in my seat.

February 15th…fingers crossed. -K

Ricky Gervais

Oh, Ricky, what a funny and talented writer you are. We just rented The Invention of Lying and it was quite a creative concept. Sort of Liar, Liar, in reverse: instead of one person not being able to lie ala Jim Carrey, the whole world can’t lie. No one even knows what a lie is. Until his character invents it. Hilarity ensues.

Anyway, here’s an article from HuffPost about how he feels about kids. Remember he says everything extra-dark and harsh because he’s a comedian. And that’s what comedians do. -K

Ricky Gervais: Bad Parents Should Be Sterilized

Ricky Gervais is stirring the pot by proposing a new method for population control: sterilizing the stupid, fat, irresponsible and otherwise unfit parents.

He told UK’s Times Online that there are already “too many unwanted children, too many people who are poor and struggling.”

“If they all had a good quality of life, no one would complain,” he said. “What there is, is too many useless people. Too many people who shouldn’t have children.”

Gervais’ solution involves a imposing a limitation on who is allowed to breed.

“Yes, based on … stupid, fat faces,” he said. “If there’s a woman in leggings, eating chips with a fag in her mouth, sterilize her.”

Another example of irresponsible parenting: “brainwashing” by forcing religion upon one’s kids, said Gervais, an outspoken atheist.

Gervais is no hypocrite. He is childless and has been with his partner, Jane Fallon, 48, for 27 years. He said they decided against having children because it would be “too much hassle.”

“We just didn’t fancy dedicating 16 years of our life to it,” he said. “And there are too many children, of course.”

Pics

Thanks to my Aunt Jane for sending me these pictures! -K

911

Crap, who knew kids were so useful in an emergency? Savannah broke my cold black heart into little pieces. Especially when she says, “Don’t worry, Dad”. By the time she got to “we’re in our jammies”, I had fallen completely and totally in love with her. -K

Full call below:

Garbage Pail Kids

When I was a kid, as most people probably do, I compared myself to everyone around me to figure out where I ranked on the scale of life. Sometimes I would be around someone who didn’t know something that I did, and I think to myself, gah, what a square, I’m so much hipper than that. OK, probably didn’t use the words “square” or “hipper” at that time, but that’s the best I can recollect today.

Then Garbage Pail Kids became the thing, and I mean THE. THING. , everyone had them, wanted them, talked about them, traded them, laughed at them. And I thought to myself, wow, these kids are so much more screwed up than I am. It worried me, because I felt like I was the only person not into them, so maybe there was something wrong with me, but there was nothing I could do to change my feelings towards them. Not unlike the years of NKOTB. I’m pretty sure I was the only kid in my school who just didn’t get it.

This was around the same time that my dad took away my Faith No More cassette because it concerned him that we were Christians and the band was called Faith No More. I was the kid NOT collecting cards with cartoons of axe murderers and babies eating their own ribs. The injustice!

As wrong as I felt it was to be censored and monitored (I was also not allowed to watch Pretty Woman, Flashdance, or Dirty Dancing, just FYI), if I was a parent and saw my kid collecting these revolting freakin’ cards, I would march his ass to a therapist. -K

Saturday’s Baby

Mine could very well end up looking like this. *shudder* -K

Wowsa.

The other day we were in a restaurant and a very pregnant woman had her belly crammed into a booth, and she looked so uncomfortable. I don’t know why the hostess didn’t realize that she should be seated at a table rather than that booth, and I certainly don’t know why the poor woman didn’t raise the point herself, but nevertheless, it was weird, and that’s what I was going to write about today. Yep, that’s my journalistic sense, I’m always on the lookout for something child-related to blog about. Or, okay, sigh, you caught me, I have nothing left to talk about on this whole no-kids topic, I’m exhausted and desperate for something new to cover. Whatever.

Anyway, finding images to go with my ideas isn’t always easy. I searched all kinds of images about pregnant women and restaurant booths and nothing jumped out at me as relevant or funny. Then, randomly, this disturbing image appeared on my computer. Jumpin’ Jehosephat. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get this scary picture out of my head. This is why I don’t watch horror movies, the scary stuff sticks with me and reappears in my nightmares. I am fully expecting to dream about this tonight.

I can only assume that a model like this is built for medical schools so students can practice what to do if the umbilical cord is wrapped about the kid’s neck. Thank goodness that someone thinks about these things and works to prevent deaths during childbirth. But dude, can you imagine being the guy that makes these in the factory? Great party conversation…And what do you do, Joe? Ah. I. Um. Make life-size models of women in labor, well, without their full-length legs, of course, what would be the sense in that…no, I focus on the vaginal canal and the child inside the uterus. And an umbilical cord. Yep, that’s what I do. Honey, another cocktail?  -K

The Pregnancy Pact

So this movie premiered last weekend on Lifetime, and received the highest movie-of-the-week ratings in years. If you didn’t see it, you can watch it here. I won’t be watching it, but in case you ran out of Jersey Shore repeats on your Tivo and needed some fabricated drama, there you have it.

Of course this movie isn’t remotely close to a true story, more like loosely based on a rumor that may or may not have any truth to it based in a Gloucester high school. It seems that 17 gals got knocked up there and a creepily press-hungry principal started hypothesizing about a “pregnancy pact” that these girls made. And the rest is Hollywood history. What a juicy story! Let’s twist it, flip it, shake it, and reverse it, and call it true life.

Inspired by this hoopla, I would like to propose a sequel. Christina Hendricks will star as the character Karyn Murphy, and other actresses will play my readers, who feel the way I do about breeding. We shall call it The Not Knocked Up Club. The characters will gather at one their our clean, toy-free homes, and discuss art, literature, politics, and recent theatrical releases. Anyone wishing to discuss stretch marks, Thomas the Train, daycare, and potty training will have to wait for the third film: Shit, I’m Pregnant Again. -K

Fashion Statement

I prefer my handbags to come without a baby. -K

(Link via BudTravel)

Sleepless Nights

I heard someone say last week, “I haven’t been able to go to sleep without a pill or a drink in years” and dude, I can so relate.  Sadly, or luckily, depending on how you look at it, I’m not much of a drinker. I can’t usually get more than one drink down, I just don’t have the stomach for it. I’ve been applying myself with great focus to the whole getting drunk routine lately but it’s only worked twice. Twice is usually my yearly drunken average so I guess by those standards I’m really improving since it’s just January. Whee. But still, two times don’t help much when it comes to needing regular zzz’s.

If Eric falls asleep before me, I’m completely doomed. The snoring is out of hand and it’s accompanied by farting on such a level that I can’t imagine the creator of that noise wouldn’t awaken himself in making it, but he happily sleeps on. He also grinds his teeth just in case I needed a trifecta of odd sounds to sleep next to. Teeth grinding sounds like gravel being tortured, if that’s possible.

I start to panic around midnight if I can’t fall asleep, and once the panic sets in, I’m also doomed. It’s 2am as I write this and I’ve watched 5 episodes of Law & Order: SVU tonight with only a brief lapse into sleep during episode 4, but once the credits rolled, I was wide awake again. If Ice T’s bad acting can’t knock me out, what on God’s green earth can?

Although the show hasn’t put me out tonight (thanks Netflix for live streaming shows, what a lifesaver), it has made me grateful that I don’t have a child who has been molested, murdered or kidnapped. What a weird show to be a writer on; you must have to constantly scan the headlines for ideas for new sick twisted hell to put victims through. Sweet!

Study the research material below and we can have a follow-up discussion about the crush I have on Elliot Stabler AKA Chris Meloni some other time. -K

Saturday’s Baby

Here’s our Twitter pal Christian from Germany’s son:

Danger (and possible fun)

The SF Gate posted this article about this book and Stitcher brought it all to my attention. Yeah, I know that’s three links to click on in my first sentence, get over it, I’m expanding your horizons.

Mind you, I’m not advocating any of this behavior. If you want to try these top five suggestions with your kids, just be prepared to take full responsibility and tell your husband/local emergency room/the cops that it was all YOUR idea (and that schmo Gever Tulley’s) that little Bobby throw rocks, start a fire, electrocute himself taking the toaster apart, blow the Three Musketeers wrapper up in the microwave, and oh yeah, wreck your Lexus. What a weekend this will be for you guys. I want a full report on Monday.

Might I also pause for a moment of meh, whine, mehhhhhhh, and say that I really can’t bear to see another “cute idea book” ala Stuff White People Like, What Your Poo Is Telling You, my alltime least favorite owned by my mother called Organize It! , which is a book that begins annoying me right off the bat with an exclamation point in the title but, once inside, the real treat begins, and it says basically, step off the short bus, clean your shit up, put your papers in a file and put the file in a drawer, um, pardon me but DUH FRICKETY DUH, NOT FOR $12.95, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, and now this Fifty Ways to Kill Your Kid or whatever this book du jour is, people, COME ON!

I need see a Reasons To Be Happy That You Don’t Have Kids written by Karyn Murphy book at my friendly Barnes & Noble checkout stand. If I was patient and liked to wait a long time for great things to manifest themselves, I’d have a kid. Helloooo.  -K