Sunday and Monday I did another one of those crafty shows. I made a new BFF (Hi, ELLEN!!!), Wendy brought me Smart Food popcorn on her 7-Eleven run and I had a fabulous time.

Instead of waxing poetic about the 9,999 people who “ooh’d” and “aaah’d” over the MNAC shirts, I would much rather tell you the story of the guy who said the wrong thing. I decided to write it over at my brand new Mommy Needs a Business blog at Work it, Mom! because, well, it seemed funnier over there than here. When Nataly asked if I would blog at Work It, Mom, I told her that I could only write there if I didn’t have to pretend that I have a FRIGGIN’ CLUE about what I am doing. So basically is all half-assed, all across the internet.

So go over there to find the story. Just so you know, I left out the part about the much younger girlfriend who laughed at his comment. I left her out of the story because I too was once that girl who dated the guy who said the stupid things and I thought he was funny. Until I realized that one day he would be 43 and still trolling for chicks on Match because God forbid he ever become a grown up. She too will wake up one day and realize the error of her ways and marry the Nice Guy.

Head on over to my new digs at Work it, Mom! to see exactly what I said to Prince Charming when he made smart ass comments about my Mommy Needs a Cocktail shirt. Go to my first post and leave a comment for a chance to win a MNAC tee or a My Mom Doesn’t Want your Advice tee. Just do it. Even if you don’t want the shirt. Not that it’s a CONTEST for attention or anything. I mean, it’s not like I asked you to vote for me on a reality show or anything.

Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine 

You have a funny feeling you just may be getting a vacuum for Mother’s Day.  Maybe you’ll be getting a lovely breakfast in bed, made by the tots.  Which is great, except you are probably going to have to clean up the kitchen yourself.  Why not spend Saturday, May 10, 2008 (also known as Mother’s Day Eve) without the kids?   

Join us for an amazing evening of wine tasting with food pairings, gourmet treats to dip in a fabulous chocolate fountain and fun friends, all in the amazingly beautiful setting of The Winery at

Take home hilarious tees and take home chocolate will be available for purchase.

Friday night Kimberly picked me up for the Wild Wine Party that was at Sarah’s house. It took The Boy of all two seconds to smell a rat.

TB: Where are you going, Mom?
K: I’m going to a meeting, buddy. I’ll see you later.
Kimberly: DAMN. That’s a good one. I just told my kids I was going to a Mommy Party.
TB: Mom, are you going to a Mommy Party.
K: Technically, yes. But really it’s a meeting (glaring at Kimberly).
TB: I wanna go with you to the Mommy Party. But it’s just for moms?

Because everything in my house is a discussion. Fastforward to 2 minutes later in the car when I started to bring up the directions to Sarah’s house on my I-Phone. Crap. I remembered a conversation I had with Sarah about the location of her house. Four doors down from my ex-boyfriend. The jilted one. The mean, jilted one. The creepy, mean, jilted one.

Kimberly: We’re driving by.

That’s why I love this woman.

Moments later we are driving down the street. Except I can’t remember the address. And frankly, all the houses were looking the same. On the second driveby, I’m positive that wherever he is in that house, he knows I’m driving by. Even though we haven’t spoken in 5 years.

So we head to Sarah’s house, right around the corner, and we consume lovely wine courtesy of Rony. Kimberly took a picture of all three of my chins and now we aren’t on speaking terms. The entire world would have photoshopped at least one, if not two chins out, but no. If it makes you feel any better, I have gone 2 days without beer and I’m down to two chins.

Then I’m talking to Susan and she points out her sunburn to me. I ask her where she went to get it, bitch, and she says “radiation.” And laughs her ass off. Who’s the bitch now, bitch? She then suggests that we ALL go over to the ex’s house and heckle him from the front yard. Sarah mentions that she knows who he is and she has seen my dog that I never actually had in my possession. I ask how he looked. It was weird.

We then decide, because it is at the END of the wine tasting and now we have tried 7 or 11 wines, that we should do a drive by. We rule out the Petroville Land Cruiser with the blacked out windows because, well, that’s how you get your ass shot in suburbia. Jessica decides that a nice minivan is the way to go. Luckily we have more minivans to choose from than a Chevy lot on Labor Day weekend. We get into the minivan and I tell Leticia that she needs to cover Susan’s body with her own because if Susan has survived cancer and a double mastectomy only to be shot by my ex, well then won’t we all feel bad? Jess mentions that she practically killed Susan on the way over with her driving so we pause to think about how horrible it would be if ANY of us got Susan killed.

Susan? Laughing her ass off.

This happens to be the first time that Stimey has gotten the memo about possible firearms. She lives in Montgomery County (a.k.a. MO CO), also known as the People’s Republic of Montgomery County. She’s trying to graciously figure out a way to head back into the house but now the undercover posse is ready to roll.

Except if you drive down the street in a minivan with the door open, all the lights stay on and you get the hum of the “ding, ding, ding.” Stealth, we spit on you.

I jumped out of the van at the appointed house and ran up to the lamp post I had put in and suddenly the motion detector light that I had installed lit up. Had I known that I was going to be committing a possible misdemeanor at this VERY MOMENT 10 years past installation, I may not have done such a good job.

The girls are heckling me from the car and I start to get a little closer. I whispered, hoping the dog would hear me…”Beau, it’s Mommy. Come to Mommy.”

I didn’t really. That’s what Sarah said I should have said as I was peeing in my pants in the front yard of my crazy ex-boyfriend’s house with the sound of the ‘ding, ding, ding’ of the open minivan door and the cackling of my friends. I freaked out, ran back to the minivan, envisioning a Little Miss Sunshine moment of jumping in the moving van. Except Jess is a mom and she was driving the minivan so we had to close the door, properly do our seatbelts, ect., before she started to move. We drove away, screaming out the windows, “she married up, her husband is SO much cuter than you.”

Those DC Metro Moms? Those girls sure do know how to party. And Sarah? I would hang out with her in the hood any old time.

Bad things happen when you hang out with the Chocolate Fountain Fairy Godmother (hereinafter referred to as the CFFG).  She has these hairbrained IDEAS and then you find yourself at the shop, making Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine chocolate bars and Mommy Needs Chocolate chocolate bars and Mommy Needs a Cocktail chocolate bars.  And did I mention the girl?  The martini girl?  She is TOO CUTE for words.  At a whopping 3 oz. of chocolate, you just want to lie down and die after eating her.  These little numbers.  Better.  It is too crazy.  Then you look at the clock and you realize you have 20 minutes to get home and it is gonna take you at least 25 minutes.  And her latest get-rich-quick-scheme?  I don’t even want to tell you.  I’ll tell you what.  If I end up on Oprah for that hairbrained scheme instead of the MNAC party scheme….I’ll be just fine with it. 

But back to these chocolate bars.  You can buy them wherever you find Mommy Needs a Cocktail (looking at your house, SATGS!!! and hell, you people in Richmond at the Bizarre Bazaar the week after next).  AND…..if you have a MNAC party (or any variation thereof–for all you non-drinkers having the chocolate parties!!).  I know.  I KNOW!!!  Sky, you said to make Mama proud.  I can’t do any better than this….

On a lighter note, my children are insane.  Remember when I said they were working together and using their collective powers for evil?  Oh, it’s getting worse.  The Baby’s skill level in walking is directly proportional to the amount of trouble the two of them get into these days.  Someone got the crazy idea to get the Cheerio’s down from the top of the cabinet in the dining room.  I don’t know why they were there, but needless to say, they are now all over the living room floor.  It seems that after The Boy took his handful, he graciously gave the rest of the COSTCO-SIZED bag to his brother.  His brother proceeded to take large handfuls out and put them in the seat of his highchair.  Apparently saving them for later.  Then he got bored with putting his hand in the bag (what with it being so exhausting) and he just began to shake the 50 oz. bag until the Cheerios got enough velocity going to fly out the top of the bag.  His father?  Thought it was brilliant.  While not his first (or second or even 10th choice), the dog appears somewhat grateful.  Sadly, I was on the couch watching the entire thing.  Yelling “NO SIR” with my outside voice but lacking the energy/conviction to, would it be “punish” him for his dastardly behavior?  All while he is laughing maniacally.  That one is smart.  Keep mom up all night and she’ll be too tired to rip that huge ass bag of Cheerios out of your hand while you send them cascading over furniture. 

Oh, and Tony brought home some Jersey eclairs.  I have to roll to bed now.  Thank you very much. 

Oh, every single one of you that said, “I would have a party if I lived closer”–your ass is getting an email about hosting a party.  I just stick the party in a box and send it to your house.  Even to Alabama.  Which has surprisingly enough, made MANY queries about throwing parties.  You southern girls.  You know what’s going on.  Have a party now before I end up on Oprah and then you have to get on my list.  Now wouldn’t THAT suck?  Don’t you want to be the person who had the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party BEFORE the rest of the cool kids catch on.

OK, I don’t actually put the party in a box.  I put the shirts in the box and YOU have to make the party.  You can do it.  I have faith in you.  

And now all those short sleeve shirts and tank tops available at Baby Brewing?  Mommy Needs a Cocktail?  Mommy Needs a Beer?  Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine?  And all those shirts only available at the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  Available in 2XL.  Still that clingy style, but now with more room.  Roomier styles coming soon.

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.
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. 

Seriously.

Then the house was packed.  There were women everywhere.  DC Metro Moms?  Jazzercisers?  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.