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    A little somethin’ somethin’ that will be showing up at Angelina Jolie’s house today

    April 2, 2008

    Angelina Jolie’s Hollywood Baby Shower GiftNicole Richie’s Baby Basket

    Do you have any idea how difficult it is to put 7 shirts into a gift basket/box so they are all visible?  The result?  You can’t read any of them.  The shirt under the tag?  Drinking for Two, of course.   

    In the drama of getting the baskets together for the Hollywood stars, I thought I was alone when I walked into the CFFG’s office. I heard the sound of Rush on the radio in the back room and walked around the corner to see a white-haired gentleman washing chocolate fountains in the industrial-sized sinks.

    K: Hello. You must be Sam, Melissa’s dad.
    S: Well, HELLO there.
    K: So nice to meet you.

    We chit-chatted for a while. And then, it came, as I can only describe it, out of the blue.

    S: Aren’t you a pretty thing?
    K: Why…..thank you?

    I felt the sudden urge to lean up and touch my hair. My hair that had been washed every other day for years, but probably hadn’t seen a brush since the late ’80s. I refrained.

    S: You married?

    Maybe I should have mentioned that Sam turned 80 this year. Maybe that information doesn’t matter. Who knows? I’ll just throw it out there for good measure.

    K: As a matter of fact, I am. And I have two small boys.
    S: Hm. Are you happily married?
    K: (laughing) As a matter of fact, I am VERY happily married.
    S: I was just wondering if you were interested in upgrading. But if you are happily married, then I guess that’s good for you.
    K: It is.
    S: How old are you?
    K: Well, I’m (mumbling).
    S: You are too old for me. But only by a year. I can give you…what is that thing the pope gives…compensation?
    K: (thinking, “If only the pope was giving compensation”) Dispensation?
    S: Dispensation. That’s right.
    K: But I heard you only like redheads.
    S: Eh. I can give you a dispensation for that too.

    Well, alrighty then.

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    First Mommy Needs a Cocktail party ever? Holy CRAP!!! I’m too old for this much fun.

    February 25, 2008

    I remember getting into the limo with The Husband after our wedding (okay, lifting The Husband’s legs into the limo) and thinking, “This was the BEST wedding I have EVER BEEN TO.”

    Saturday night’s Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  It was so awesome, it just wasn’t right.  It was almost as fun as my wedding.

    I showed up late because I was trying to find my car keys to give to The Husband.  I drove up the hill to the most gorgeous house with the most gorgeous view.  (I also saw a deer try to jump a fence and not clear the barbed wire, only to bounce back on the road.  That was odd).  We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.  We are in Petroville.

    I stepped into a Mommy Needs a Cocktail heaven.  MNAC was everywhere.  Kimberly is a mommy who needs a cocktail. And who knows how to create a pink Wonderland. Kimberly & Kristen
    MNAC was on a cake, for heaven’s sake (which should now be mandatory for all MNAC parties–it was so cool).  I threw my crap on the table (sorry, Pache) and then Melissa, of Capitol Chocolate Fountain/Post Office fame arrived.  Tell me how often you send out a cheeky twitter and a month later 2 chocolate fountains are on the counter at your very first Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Melissa kept telling people that she was sure I thought she was a stalker.  Let me just say that if you have a stalker, having a stalker who owns 38 chocolate fountains and makes homemade pink marshmallows to dip in the chocolate at your MNACP is the only kind of stalker to have.  We embraced as if we had known each other forever and then she proceeded to set up what became the focal point of the party.  The chocolate was so good I almost stuck my head in it.  She sells it online.  Go and buy some. 


    Then the house was packed.  There were women everywhere.  DC Metro MomsJazzercisers?  You name it.  People had brought tons of food and wine and there were cocktails everywhere.  Someone cracked open the Arbor Mist and it got a little crazy.  I’m just saying.  Lots of people brought stuff to give away and we had a raffle too.  I talked to so many fun women.  I ate too many items dipped in chocolate.  It was only when I looked at the clock on the microwave and read “11:38” that my heart about stopped.  Kimberly was trudging past me and I grabbed her arm.

    K:  How did you think this would go?
    Kimberly:  To be honest?  I thought people would get bored at around 9:30. 
    K: ME TOO!!!

    Uh, no.  Because this party was a Mommy’s Night Out first and foremost, with kick ass stuff to buy.  It helped that Kimberly is the most amazing hostess ever.  And we had two chocolate fountains, for heaven’s sake. We raised $100 from sales to go to Vicky’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  I sold “Underpaid Kept Woman” shirts, a creation of the original Underpaid Kept Woman herself, Susie Sunshine.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Latte” shirts and “Mommy Needs Chocolate” shirts and “Mommy Needs a Margarita” shirts.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Cocktail” Martini Toast tanks in cocktail shakers, just like the ones the celebrities got back at the Boom Boom Baby Room.   Hostess gift structuring went out the window because this party so exceeded anything I had ever imagined.  Kimberly ended up with practically one of every style (plus the Mommy Needs a Vacation tote for the hostess-only).  It was off the hook.  It was so much fun.

    But the best part about it?  Everyone had carpooled.  Everyone was responsible.  I think everyone had a good time.  We talked about dreams and goals and travel and jobs.  We didn’t talk about kids and husbands.  It was refreshing.  Reinvigorating. 

    It was just a really good time.  Wanna see how good

    You should totally have a Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Think about it.

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    Totally and completely random crap

    January 24, 2008

    NO, I didn’t pick winners from the contest.  Stop bugging me.  I’m busy sitting around alphabetizing the canned goods in my kitchen.  I’ll get to it.  I promise.

    What the hell is up with dog?  Could someone explain to me why I just walked into my living room and there was the dog, with his head resting comfortably on a throw pillow that clearly had been THROWN on the ground?  He didn’t even get up.  Two words for you.  Shock collar.

    Twitter can be harmful to your health.  I know this from nearly sideswiping a car on the road today.  It’s okay, because it was only a police car.  We’re fine.

    Twitter can bite you in the ass.  When you write really crappy things about the idiot in front of you that CANNOT, if his life depended on it, use the damn. A.P.C. machine at the post office, you might want to a) pay attention to where that damn kid of yours has wandered off, 2) cover up The Baby’s feet before you have to hear about how horrible a mother you are, and Third) remain as quiet as possible.  We have people manning the desks, people, for those of you who CANNOT figure out whether you are sending a package or a BOX.  I need you to stand in line so I don’t have to wait for you to figure out whether your card is debit or credit.  But what happens is, by the time it’s your turn and there is smoke visibly pouring from your ears and The Boy is now in line ACROSS the post office waiting to get a passport (even though he already HAS one), you just may catch the attention of the woman behind you.  Who is clever enough to put your return mailing address together with your website address.  Who will then email you and tell you how funny your twitter was about the postal-challenged.

    And then you will realize how small the world is.  Or how big your mouth is.  Either one.  You be the judge.

    Hi, Melissa!!!  It was nice meeting you too.  Sorry that The Boy was wearing his Thomas the Train slippers and The Baby had no shoes on in the 30 degree temps.  I’m really a better mother.  But you might want to steer clear of the PO at quarter to six again.  I’m just saying.   

    Oh, and Baby Brewing was featured on Celebrity Baby Blog.  I’m giving away THE WHOLE FREAKING STORE over there so feel free to go and enter the contest.  And if you win and I know you, I still may even send the stuff to you.  Maybe.  Go enter.  Really.  It’s not difficult and it’s a popularity contest.  And apparently Chachi is wearing one of my shirts around town.  He had to have stolen it from Chris Noth, but you never know….

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    I’m so cold

    January 16, 2008

    Maybe it’s the bowl of ice cream I just had.  Really, don’t you just love a bowl of ice cream when it’s 62 degrees in your house and 34 degrees outside?  Those ice cream parlors that close for the winter so the owner can run his snow plow business?  Sissies.

    There’s ice cream in my house.  There is a lot of crap in my house that wasn’t here when I left for LA last Thursday.  How about the three pictures received via I-Phone of The Boy eating chocolate cake ON THE COUCH.  On the couch.  Did I mention he was on the couch?  I know that our couch is trashed since we had kids.  Pee, poop, ground-in Cheerios, pee, vomit, milk, pee.  But chocolate cake?  Really?  Seriously?  Chocolate cake? 

    Three different pictures of The Chocolate Cake Consumption.  Parts I, II and III. Over three days.  Why don’t you just poke my eye with a fondue fork already? 

    How about the hot dogs in the fridge?  Trader Joes nitrate free, but hot dogs nonetheless.  I may have served Chipotle for dinner three nights in a row since I got home but by God, that’s real beef.  Not beef parts.

    “Fruit” snacks.  The only fruit present being the SHAPE of the snack.  Look!  It LOOKS like an orange.  “MOM, CAN I HAVE FRUIT????”  Sure, you can have a banana.  “NO, MOM!!!  FRUIT SNACKS!!”  You may as well just take one of those 3 foot Pixie Stix, boil it down and smoke it through a pipe. 

    Apple juice.  See above.

    Beef jerky.  Which would be fine if they hadn’t bought dog beef jerky that looks just like the people beef jerky.  I’m almost positive it is the same stuff but seriously?  My apologies to The Baby who didn’t seem to notice a difference. 

    All The Boy’s shoes are missing but he does now know how to properly utilized a bottle opener. 

    Maybe I should go away more often.

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    It doesn’t get bigger than Mr. Big

    January 15, 2008

    it doesn't get bigger than Mr. Big

    Um, YUM!!! He may have mentioned that Drinking for Two (or three or five) was his life motto. That’s off the record, of course…

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    I’m not saying we are BFF’s or anything

    Kris and Angela Bassett

    But if ANGELA BASSETT wants one of everything, you find yourself pissed off that you don’t have more crap.

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