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    Happy Friggin’ New Year!!!

    January 1, 2009

    I am so hung over.  You know when you go to a party and all night everyone is drinking and a) no one thinks to put a pitcher of ice water on the table to keep the natives hydrated or b) even makes ice so now everyone is drinking drinks without ice?  And that crappy hostess is you? And you get hung over because now you have eaten salt-laden goodness for a total of like 6 hours and you haven’t had anything to drink other than illegal sips from someone else’s Anchor Steam because wielding your very own beer after you have pried your fat pregnant belly under the table is just frowned upon by even the loosest of folks?

    I’m too old for this.  I laughed so hard last night I actually laid my head down on the dinner table and cried.  That might have been when my husband started his falsetto/vasectomy voice across the table or maybe when I was rehashing for the 6th year in a row the story about my gay ex-boyfriend’s emotional breakdown of nuclear proportions in my kitchen one New Year’s Eve and BeBe didn’t think it was funny because she was drunk thanks to that Trader Joe’s Sparkling Limeade and vodka concoction and then someone asked if Carl and I used to date?   Which we never dated but we did have that marriage pact and then Carl got emotional and thanked Derek profusely for marrying me.  I really can’t pinpoint the crying party but I do think the top half of my bra was hanging out my shirt for the better part of the night and when I commented on it, Amy said, “who hasn’t seen them?” That would be my girls, which were hanging out the top of my bra.  The crying in laughter was definitely NOT when Carl strayed from our 8 year New Year’s Eve script and brought up my ex who threw about the Baby Jesus or his reference to my church as “The Pickup Church.”  or the reference to my match.com years.  I mean days.

    The Cake Lady spent the better part of the night being “on” and hobbling around on her bum knee due to an unfortunate mini motorcycle accident and then there were all manner of “bum” stories.  Who knew “bum” meant so many different things to so many people.  PopPop offered again to birth my child for me and while I am sure he is an excellent plumber, I mentioned I may have to pass on that one.  The Husband was forced to tell The Boy to stop “grating the guests” which could have referred to either The Boy’s attempts to use an actually cheese grater on Tom’s arm OR screaming loudly and annoyingly in a manner which would have suggested that bedtime would have been helpful, say, 3 hours earlier.   Dinner wasn’t on the table until 9, the host was pissed off because his grilled tenderloin was cold (so you are saying I should have started the green beans earlier?) and his exact helping of potatoes dauphinoise wasn’t cooked enough (mine was org@asmic, thank you very much) and I think he was still pissed off because of the damn vasectomy from last month.  Seriously, get over it.  By 11 he was hammered and then he was really funny, which is why I married him.  Which is not to be confused with the vasectomy, which is why I am staying married to him.  Derek did his best to share the marital disharmony by making Amy her very own bucket of popcorn from my brand new popcorn maker that Tom did NOT buy for Amy for Christmas and I don’t know if they fought on the way home because of it.

    Matt and Deb waxed wistfully nostalgic about their kids growing up so fast and college applications and we folks with small children looked at them like they were crazy.  Because they are.  Time has stopped over here.  So much so that when the clock struck midnight, we missed it.  It was only at 12:01 that someone realized.  No, wait.  I think that means that time is moving faster.

    I need a Gatorade. Happy 2009!

    Go on over to PBS Supersisters and tell me your best impossible NY resolution.   And just know that that 50 pounds is going to be 60 by March, at the rate I’m going.

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    Mommy Needs a Margarita

    July 19, 2008

    Last night we had the party at Ruby Something. I can’t remember but isn’t Ruby Tuesdays so we were good.

    Hi, my name is Kristen and I am OLD.

    The party was in this club. A club. Did I mention I was in a club? I think the last time I was in a club was when I lived on a Caribbean island and I drank more Heineken than any one person should ever consume. The music started to pump and I’ll be honest, I thought my ear drums were going to burst. I walked by Chris and said, “Hey.” She yelled back, “WHAT???????” Just like that. Her voice carries well. I had an entire conversation with Elaine before we realized that we were having two very separate conversations. Kinda like someone is talking about dinner plans and the other person is pouring their heart out about today being the anniversary of the death of their childhood pet.

    Do you know those episodes in CSI when the music is pumping and there are 40 eighteen year old girls gyrating on the dance floor and then they flash to someone getting stabbed in the bathroom but you can’t hear them scream because all you can hear is the “BUMBUMBUM” from the bass? Then they flash back to the dance floor? Then the stabbing? Then the dance floor? And two people are trying to talk at the bar and they have to resort to sign language to have a conversation? It was CSI. I did NOT go to the bathroom.

    Then I went to Maggie’s party with Lindsay where we sat on a couch because I was tired because it was already 10:00 p.m. until Krystyn made us dance. Excessively. Like prom. The only thing missing was Def Leppard. Maggie is brilliant. All the food was orange. Parties will come and go but years from now we will say, and remember that time we went to Maggie Mason’s party and all the food was orange? I mean it was really fun, but there was even candy corn. Which is a food violation as you are only allowed to eat candy corn between October 1 and the 31st. Maybe on November 1, but probably not. Seriously.

    I was the person whose hands looked like this. Covered in PBS Supersisters swag. Each color is a different super power (the brilliantly creative idea of Supersisters Patience). According to Zug’s picture, I apparently I have ALL the superpowers.

    Mood Rings

    But the big news is, lots of new stuff went up on Baby Brewing last night, thanks to the amazing Heather Sanders. Daddy Needs a Beer

    This shirt is timely. It’s timely because I called my house this morning and my husband is having a nervous breakdown. He said those words I have been longing to hear.

    “I bought you a brand new car and got the air conditioner in the house fixed.’

    No, wait. That’s my fantasy. He did one even better.

    “You were right.”

    crickets...

    “This job is ALL THE TIME.”

    Bless his heart. And I mean that in the nice Southern way. Apparently there was this incident involving biting and furniture and a rumble and my husband remembers, yet again, why this shirt means so much to me….

    Mommy Needs a Margarita

    Don’t forget we are having a big sale at babybrewing.com. Just use the code blogher08 to get 25% off your entire order. If you are around Blogher today, I’ll be at the swap meet selling my wears for INSANELY reduced prices. Then I’ll be speaking at the There’s More to Monetization than Advertising panel with several other amazing women, where I’ll be talking about ALL OF YOU AND HOW YOU TURNED THIS BUSINESS INTO A COMMUNITY. I’ll be recycling my purple club dress from last night because it was so fantastic, it must be worn again. And that necklace, Miss America/Cake Lady? I had two fashion editors compliment me on it. I have officially arrived.

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    It’s all fun and games until you see it in print

    May 29, 2008

    So there was this little review post I did about the Malibu. Remember that? I was funny.

    Mary from Automotive News called me a few weeks ago and wanted to discuss my trip. GM’s courtship of the blogger, blah, blah, blah.

    My husband gets nervous when I do any kind of interview. His motto is “get off the phone as soon as possible.” Except the one thing he has forgotten? I’m being interviewed about something stupid I have already said that is now forever immortalized on the internet. So I’m gonna have to say that ship has already sailed. I never reread the post before I did the interview and I was on my way to a show when Mary interviewed me. I was driving the truck. Without a headset. And probably with my knee so I could hold the phone with one hand and change the radio station with the other.

    As I read the article today,  I breathed a sigh of relief.  I had said several coherent things like “GM understands we are living in a world where social media are extremely important.” Except I’m positive I said “social media is” instead of “social media are” because “are” doesn’t sound right to me. It’s “is” right? Anyway, I plod through the article and realize that I may have gotten out unscathed. There’s even this AWESOME picture of me and Kelly in the trunk, taken by our most favorite Vicky.

    Mocha and Cocktail in the trunk

    Until I see the insert with the screen shot of the blog. And a quote from my Malibu review. And my heart stops. Because I’m going to be handed divorce papers over this one.

    There it is in Automotive News.

    “I think I looked ‘HOT’ driving it. I would definitely allow my husband to accost me on the hood.”

    My husband? He’s a bit of a shy guy. While he may be all up in my grill about accosting me on the hood, he’s less of a talk and more of an action kinda guy. I called him to tell him I found the article online. And then I broke the accosting news to him. As happy as he was to read it the first time when probably only 10 other random people read it, I braced myself.

    D: You. You are a funny girl.
    K: At least I didn’t say I would definitely let Keanu Reeves accost me on the hood.

    Keanu Reeves? WTH? In an effort to downplay the situation, I pulled Keanu Reeves out of thin air? Seriously? Seriously. Keanu Reeves. Tom Selleck would have been just as believable, just as non-threatening, but not repulsive. Keanu Reeves. Still reeling from the stupidity of that one.

    D: That’s true. What are your parents going to think of that comment?
    K: Hey, that accosting is within the bounds of holy matrimony. I HAVE to get a pass for that one.

    Keanu Reeves.

    On a cheerier note, tomorrow night is the big Mommy Needs a Sex and the City Happy Hour at Coastal Flats in Fairfax.  Starts around 7.  You should totally come, even if you don’t know me.  I’ll be fun.  I promise.  I mean, I did use the word “accost” in a product review.  How bad can I be?

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    Party like a rock star

    May 28, 2008

    Saturday we went to Jeannine’s house for a party with a band. That party ranked up there with the KA parties with the bands every Friday night back in college. Who even KNEW I could remember college, it has been so long ago. Anyway, we were there all of two milliseconds before The Baby realized that those buckets full of boxes? Those be JUICE BOXES. My mom looked at me with that questioning look as The Baby reached over and nearly fell into the drinks. She knows I’m a hard ass about juice boxes. Nate and his crackDon’t you love the box? “No Sugar Added.” Because the 79 grams of sugar that naturally occurs in apple juice is apparently enough.

    I’m going to say this amid eye rolling across the internet. My kids really do get jacked up on sugar. I’m sorry. I hate to say it. It’s like me on coffee. Even decaf and I’m clocking my mandatory daily 25,000 word allotment by 7:30 a.m. So we just try to avoid it. But it was a PARTY! With a BAND! Juice boxes for EVERYONE!

    Except he remembered where the bucket was. Every once in a while he would head on over to the bucket and fall in, face first. Someone would dig him out and hand him a juice box. This picture? This was his third. It doesn’t look like much to you, but I’m pretty sure he left actual fingerprints when we pried his hands off. And these two? I said, “Make your mean face.”

    The Boy and The Husband

    That would be about right. And thanks for all your comments on my brand new Mommy Needs a Business blog at Work It, Mom! Even you, Dad. Who has NEVER left a comment on any of my blogs. Thanks for the offer to beat the asshat up. That was a good one.

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    Like you have anything better to do on Saturday night

    May 7, 2008

    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

    La Grange in

    Haymarket, VA. $49 per personPrice includes all of the above, plus a glass of your favorite wine in your very own souvenir wine glass. 
    Saturday, May 10, 2008 6:30 pm to 9:30 pmWinery at La Grange
    4970 Antioch Road

    Haymarket, VA

    20169 
    Brought to you by Kristen from Mommy Needs a Cocktail.com and Melissa from Capitol Chocolate Fountains.  Space is limited and advance reservations are required by May 3.  Contact Melissa@wineryatlagrange.com to make your reservation today. 

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

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    Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine and a Valium Party

    March 31, 2008

    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.

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