We’re about 45 days out from moving to Atlanta. I think I moved maybe three boxes, bought a mirror, two prints and daydreamed for the past five months. It’s pretty much impossible to stay VEGAS, BABY! VEGGGAAAAS! for this long without actually having Vince Vaughn as my daily relocation motivator and fluffer. Because this move is going to be MONEY, baby. MONEY. The packing and the getting rid of even more things is going to blow and I am going to hate every minute of it, but this is a new beginning — a re-do– as much as life can be re-done and made over and created into something that’s been a long time coming: ___________. I struggled with what to actually write in that
My eyes were on the tiny feet of the 15-month-old as she toddled up the gigantic steps to the even bigger slide. Her long bangs were done up and stuck right on top of her head like a real life Pebbles and I was just as terrified as she was to face the play equipment. It’s been a long time since I was in charge of someone this tiny. So long that I sometimes think I’ll forget what I’m doing. Will she choke on this piece of bread? No, of course not! It’s the size of a pea. But will she really? She didn’t. I knew my ten-year-old and a five-year-old were at the playground too, but my back was to them. And just like
To be honest, I am not thrilled at all that my blog could quite possibly be known for two things: douche and vibrators. And to be even more honest, I’m tired as holy hell of looking at that douchey picture. I have other things going on and far more important issues to write about. But I did care enough to write about it and this is why. Here’s the thing about me: how I am here is exactly how I am in really, real life. Which is to say I stand up to and for things. I take unpopular positions if I want to because I can. I’m not interested in popularity or pageviews or likes or follows or branding or, my god, whatever I’m supposed to care
Well I didn’t see that coming. Here are 10 Things to Do During an Internet Shitstorm that may or may not help you in the future and how I handled it. Sleep Preferably for as long as possible and far away from your phone because you can’t figure out how the hell to turn off Pitchfork Mob Notifications. Text Incessantly and Only Through Group Message Get in trouble for group texting. Decide everything is pretty much exactly like high school. Find yearbook with a conveniently placed noose next to it. When in Doubt, Fuck it Out Self explanatory. Remember When Limp Bizkit Ruled TRL and the Douchiness of Fred Durst Contemplate why anyone would grab a cookie in that moment. Based off of Shitiness of Bizkit,
It’s been a hard week for women that blog. Earlier this week, The Wall Street Journal took it upon themselves to not only lump in all women that write online as mom bloggers (they all have a uterus right?), but to label the conferences and business trips that women bloggers go on as the “Mommy Business Trip.” The type of trip stay-at-home moms book just so they can get the hell out of dodge and, finally, leave their children and partners behind. Otherwise, you can find them cleaning, cooking and generally slowly dying of the Feminist Mystique. Katherine Stone, a friend, ultimate professional and the voice behind Postpartum Progress, felt compelled to apologize for the way she was portrayed and, by extension, all parents that blog. I can understand
I was scanning stories to write about today and I came across this one about Alice Jackson, a British woman who suffered from anorexia but is now competing in the Curvy Kate lingerie contest. At almost six feet tall, she used to only eat lettuce and run two miles a day and dropped down to a deathly 108 pounds. She sought treatment in Britain and is now a healthy 150+ pounds and is considered plus-size. What in the bloody hell? How is that considered plus size as opposed to regular size I will never know, but good for her. I took it upon myself to watch the Curvy Kate You Tube video where all the girls who are compete basically jump around, pose and look hot as
This weekend I went to a one-day intensive blogging conference in Philadelphia. Like most conferences, I met amazing people, participated in inspiring sessions about blogging and then realized I’m completely fucked. For you non-blogging folks: feel free to read another post of mine because it’s about to get all State of Blogging up in here. How about that time I wrote about naked house cleaning Maybe this is a community specific problem or maybe it’s a blogging problem, but here is the take away from the sessions I picked to attend — which I might add had rock star presenters who were not the issue — whatever session you’re in and whatever it’s about, if you’re not currently doing whatever the presenter is evangelizing, you’re fucked. WHAT!