DO YOU WANT TO PEE ALONE, DRINK ALONE, AND/OR WIN A PRIZE? FIND OUT HOW!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Uncategorized | Posted on 10-04-2013

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Well.

Turns out I ain’t the only one who wants to pee alone!

Once upon a muffin top, I wrote a blog post called, “I Just Want to Tinkle Alone. Is That So Wrong?” Fast forward three years, 154 weeks, 1000+ days, and with this bladder? And me thinking the four food groups are coffee, Diet Coke, and beer (I know they are liquids and not food groups—and that they are three things and not four—don’t be nitpicking my diet and my mad math skillz!)??? I’m thinking, conservatively, I’ve tinkled over 10,000 times since I wrote the post,  maybe once alone at like 3 in the morning, and twice when I’ve pee pee’d on command into a cup at the doctor to make sure I don’t have some insidious disease that is, naturally, the result of drive thru peeing at warp speed while 3 foot shorties unravel the last roll of TP onto the sparkling vile (Call me Martha!) bathroom floor.

As Sweet Brown would say, “Ain’t nobody got time for dat!”

And so, when my dear friend Stacey Hatton, from the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, and the Nurse Mommy Laughs blog funfest, told me she was a contributing writer to an anthology called, I Just Want To Pee Alone, of course I wanted to get me some of that! Especially when I found out the hilarious Kelley Nettles of Kelley’s Break Room and Jen “Try to pick me out of a line up because I’m an anonymous blogger” of People I Want to Punch In The Throat (get in line, Jen, get in line) as well as almost three dozen other bloggers who spin their own unique brand of funny, in their own voice, with their own tales to tell, would be featured. With over thirty essays, you are guaranteed to relate to something in this book.

Now, I’m not gonna spoil all the fun and tell you what happens in the book. BUT! One lucky winner will receive a copy of I Just Want To Pee Alone….

HERE IT IS!

AND! As an added bonus, and because I can, and just cuz I wanna, if you act now! Don’t delay! (Ok, by next Tuesday, the 16h of April…) as a bonus, you will win a copy of my book, Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail For Every Calamity.

ARE YOU THIRSTY YET? YOU KNOW YOU'LL HAVE TO PEE AFTER ONE MARKERITA!!! PLAN ACCORDINGLY!

Throwing a copy of my book in seemed like the right thing to do—after all, Stacey mentions mimosas in her essay and everything. Why leave you hanging like that? I’m thinking this will make a fabulous early Mother’s Day present for some lucky gal. I’m thinking parrrr-taaay. Girl’s Night In. All the booze and all the bathrooms to yourselves! Alert the spouses! Alert! Alert!

The only question is….ultimately….will you get to pee alone? Drink alone? Drink with a friend? Pee with a friend? (Oh stop. You know we’ve all done it. Don’t be all faux aghast at me!)

It’ll be fun?scrarrrrry?scandalous?otherAdLibwords? to find out!

*A copy of I Just Want To Pee Alone was given to me to facilitate this shout out/contest. All opinions are my own.

I Just Want To Pee Alone is available on Amazon.com and Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail for Every Calamity is available on Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, and other fine, fine retailers!

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NO SEW UPHOLSTERY? DON’T MIND IF I DO!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Mom-ness, Retail Therapy, Things that make you go....awwww, Uncategorized | Posted on 24-01-2013

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Oh yes, yes I did. I’m talking no sew upholstery today. First, a friendly muffin top warning because I love you long time.

Do not read this post if you:

A. Are type A

B. Can sew

C. Are a perfectionist

D. Have reupholstered a chair the correct way or ohgodno are a real upholsterer person!

E. If you are all of the above, run, run for your life! AND DON’T LOOK BACK, WHATEVER YOU DO!

If you don’t heed my warning, I am not responsible for any injury that may occur, both physical or mental. I am not responsible if you throw up or break glass from your shrieking. My methods are not recommended for all, but only meant as a rough how to if  you would like to potentially upholster a chair in all the wrong wrongity wrong ways! Believe me when I say I searched hi and low for a slacker’s guide to upholstery and found NOTHING. Nothing!!!

So! Now that we have our muffintop surgeon general warning out of the way, the rest of you lovely readers type B slacking em-effers in da housee! who are still with me and wanna know how you can DIY upholster a Frenchy chair in 52 easy, totally wrong, and barbaric steps, buckle up!

You will need: a cheap chair to practice on (Don’t start with granny’s antique!), pliers, scissors, fabric, a staple gun, a glue gun, fabric, adult beverages, a spirited vocabulary, and Band-Aids.

So! New Year’s Day, I decided to grab this fabulously sh*&%y French Country armchair with ottoman (bonus!) I spied on Craigslist. Though it had great bones (Ethan Allen—excuuuse me) it was a grubtastic dog! The owners were very proud of its former glory, but hel-lo.

You can’t even tell how gross it is—YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME.

WAIT!

PLEASE IGNORE THE POST XMAS PLAYROOM SQUALOR. AND THE CUTE PHOTO BOMB!

Obviously, I did not think these “Before” pics through! You really can’t tell how grungy the ottoman was amidst the playroom squalor!

So, first, after I got home with hubs having not been stabbed with a pitchfork (We’re 3 for 3 on living through Craiglist purchases—not to get all braggy!), I vacuumed underneath the chair (don’t even bother to ask!) and washed all the wood with Murphy Oil soap. Then decided it needed a fresh coat of paint.

DUDE, THIS WAS AFTER WASHING. SEE WHAT I MEAN? BLEACH YOUR EYES! BLEACH YOUR EYES!

 

Hence, the paint. And the beer. To wash away the memories.

THE BEER HELPED FREE MY INNER PICASSO.

 

I’d planned to get the chair reupholstered, but after I got home (file under I can’t make this shizz up), my dishwasher went kaput.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO MEEEEEEEEEE!

LET’S REVIEW. Now I have:

1. a hangover

2. a grubby chair

3. and I’m getting jiggy with mah old pal from my apahtment days, Dawn, “It softens hands while you do dishes!” (Bullshit! That’s to make poor souls who have to wash dishes by hand feel better! To me, “NOT DISHWASHER SAFE” is just a dare. You take my dishwasher? You take my SOOOOULLLL! ) And  hey, nothing against you Dawn, but you ain’t my style! (Which is Lazy. Capital L. Party of one.)

Despite my obvious appliance emergency, and because I loooove to laugh out loud…I dared to dream.  The scene in mah head: Muffintop skipping through a meadow full of flowers….LOLOLOLing all the way until she plunks down in her pillowy soft, clean, newly upholstered in chic fabric, French Country chair whilst cradling an adult beverage and smut magazine….ahh. Then came the reality: I decided to get some upholstery quotes even though I needed to make a date with an appliance man. The upholstery quotes ranged from $275 plus fabric to $275 for just the OTTOMAN plus fabric PLUS $675 plus fabric for the chair.

L NO L to that fuzzy math!

Btw, $275 is a good deal as it turns out, but at this point, I figured this thing is going in the corner of my office (and by office I mean, the room I call an office but is really the place more accurately known as school paper graveyard/where I grab envelopes to send in lunch money/field trip money/conduct other super serious hausfrau banking/order shoes online). (Call me, Donald. I will totally hawk crap in Times Square on Apprentice! I have glue gun cred, Donald.)

I looked at the chair and thought, “I can do an ok job on this chair, stuff myself in the corner on it with my beer and Kindle, and that is good enough for meeeeee!”  Scratch the frolicking in a meadow. But seriously, if you can sew, you could for real do a kick ass job on a chair like this. Since the cushions aren’t attached like a regular arm chair, this is a good type of chair to start with! (And possibly, ahem, end with.)

I trolled online for fabric (the upholsterers said fabric would be $10 to $40 per yard and I’d need 7 yards). I found  Waverly Solar Flair Fruit Punch fabric for $8.50 a yard at Jo-Ann Fabric (coupon code–halala!). Suck it, upholsterers. I’ve not seen it for less than $16 a yard elsewhere online.

IT IS RAINING SUNSHINE UP IN HERE!

 

BOOM!

It’s not for everyone and I think speaks to a caged in muffin top’s psyche on a 5 degree January day. Ahem. I also thought maybe the pattern might hide mistakes?

So, I started with the ottoman, figuring that would be easier than the chair.

First I had to pull off the double welting trim–double welting trim is what covers up upholstery staples. If you’re fancy and you can sew (why are you still reading this?!) you can make new trim, but I can’t sew, as we know, so I had a plan (more later!).  I swear that trim was glued on and stapled to that chair better than my house is put together.  They must have upholstery ninjas at Ethan Allen. What. the. frack. I envision a mean man with a fireplace poker prodding hunched over, underpaid workers sneering, “More glue! More staples! If anyone should find a Craigslist bargain on one of our chairs, they shall never, never, never be able to pull it apart and must live with the original fabric forevaaaaaah!” in a meany, old school, 18th century, I own the whole world and several colonies, British accent. (I’m not talking about you Fergie. Or you Prince William. Let’s party sometime!) But that’s just me. I’m sure the good folks at Ethan Allen are just like you and me! (Nooooo.)

I needed pliers to start prying off the cemented on welting, and had to put some muffin top into it. Ultimately, the chair was no match for my laser beam focus. Actually, I bent my hub’s pliers I had to pull so hard and almost took my eye out. (Safety first! Meep. I recommend goggles! Can you see it? “Good news! I saved $275 upholstering this chair! Bad news, I’m blind in one eye!” Dum de dum dum dum….)

PULLING OFF THE DOUBLE CORDING TRIM. IT WOULD BE EASIER TO SKIN A CAT. NOT THAT I WOULD WANT TO SKIN A CAT. BUT IF I DID WANNA? I JUST KNOW I COULD!!!

The next step should be to pry off all the upholstery staples and then the fabric. But this is lazy ass, muffin top DIY, so after it took me like twenty minutes and one finger cut to pull out three staples, I said, “Schluck this!” , took a swig of my beer, and ripped the fabric off sans staples and decided I’d just staple the new fabric OVER the old staples. Sing with me Montell Jordan, “This is how we do it!”

FABRIC OFF. STAPLES STILL IN! YOU WIN, ETHAN ALLEN, YOU WIN. SMUG BASTARD.

 

Next I saved the ottoman fabric that was remarkably intact –despite my bastardization of the pulling off process–to make a template. I traced the old fabric onto the back of the new fabric, cut it, and stapled it.

YES, I DID. I CUT THAT FABRIC WITH MY RUDOLPH CHRISTMAS WRAP SCISSORS.

THESE ARE THE PROFESSIONAL GRADE TYPE TOOLS YOU WILL NEED…..

It looked like this:

I’M AN OBVIOUS PERFECTIONIST.

 

YOU DO THE CORNERS LAST. YOU PULL AS TIGHT AS YOU CAN AND FOLD AS NEATLY AS POSSIBLE.

AND THEN….

GIMP! A NO SEW PERSON’S BEST FRIEND! I GOT LIKE 800 YARDS FOR $12. OK, LIKE 15 YARDS. BUT STILL. I JUST HOT GLUED IT ON TO COVER THE STAPLES INSTEAD OF FANCAAAAY DOUBLE PIPING.

BUT WHAT, THERE’S MORE?

NOT BAD FOR A TYPE B, L NO L’ING, MUFFINTOPPER!

 

This was my best work, peeps. It got harder from here.

THE PROPER THING TO DO WOULD BE TO SEW A ZIPPERED COVER, BUT WE ALL KNOW THAT WASN’T GONNA HAPPEN. SO I DECIDED TO WRAP THE FABRIC UNDERNEATH.

 

Like so….

HELLO HOT GLUE, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE? ALSO, I CAN NEVER FLIP THE OTTOMAN CUSHION, BUT, ETHAN ALLEN DIDN’T EITHER—THERE WAS VELCRO ON THE BOTTOM OF THEIR CUSHION SO EH, WHAT’S THE DIFF?!

 

And the finished ottoman:

LIVING UP TO MY TYPE B EXPECTATIONS–FABRIC IS NOT CENTERED, NATCH!

 

PART B, THE CHAIR. Dudes, this is getting long and I’m thirsty and want to schlump into mah chair, so I’m gong to illustrate most of the rest through pics.

The decking turned out to be the easiest part. I couldn’t rip the whole fabric bottom off because it was sewed on. No WAY was I was gonna mess with that Ethan Allen scary ass shizz!

I USED MY SCRAP MATERIAL FOR THIS PART. SCORE!

 

CAN I GET AN AAAA-MEN FOR STAPLING OVER STAPLES, PART DOS?! VIVA LA MEDIOCRITY!

 

THE FABRIC WAS SURPRISINGLY EASY TO SLIP BEHIND THE ARM OF THE CHAIR. I WENT BACK AND STARTED THE SEAM NEXT TO THE ARM SO THE GIMP WOULD COVER IT.

 

VOILA! AND HEY, WHAT’S A FEW THIRD DEGREE HOT GLUE BURNS! I AM MUFFINTOP. HEAR ME ROAR!

 

The arms weren’t bad at all!

I RIPPED THE FABRIC OFF THE ARM IN THE SAME PRECISE FASHION AS THE DECKING. AHEM. AND THEN USED IT AS A TEMPLATE.

STAPLE, STAPLES EVERYWHERE! SNIP SNIP WITH MY RUDOLPH SCISSORS TO GET RID OF HANGING THREADS!

 

OH GIMP! WE MEET AGAIN. YOU MAKE MEDIOCRITY MAHVELOUS, DAHLING!!!

And without further ado, meet my *new*, clean, BRIGHT and SHINY, if monstrously perfectly imperfect, fun French country armchair and ottoman!

DONE! THIS IS WHERE THE MUFFINTOP SHALL RESIDE WHEN SHE WANTS TO!

Is the chair perfect? Hell no! Far from it. The cushions don’t have double welting (piping) trim, can never be flipped, and the fabric is not as “tight” as I would have liked. The cushions are squishy so trying to pull the fabric tight underneath, to then (Gasp!) glue the fabric like I did the ottoman–which was firmer—was much more difficult. But hey, for only a coat of paint, some elbow grease, an inexpensive chair with only $60 worth of fabric, I have this fun-can-never-be-moved-from-the-corner-chair! Oh and bonus—I had enough fabric left over to upholster my desk chair (aka a Queen Anne style dining chair) and make two no sew curtains (deets to follow).

From shizz to shine, all on a dime! I gots to save my money for new shoes and wine!

Salud, Muffintoppers! I swear my wine tastes better in my fun chair!

Oh, and p.s. Yes, that is Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail for Every Calamity on the table next to the chair. Now available on Amazon, Barnesandnoble.com, and other fine retailiers! (What? I have a new DIY habit to support! Forgive the shameless plug!)

 

 

BLOGHER12, A BOOK, AND SOME SHOES. WHAT MORE IS THERE?

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, Retail Therapy, Uncategorized | Posted on 09-08-2012

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So last week my fabulous friend and neighbor, Miss Indeedy, and I hit the road to New York City for BlogHer12. (Side note: when you meet someone and they instantly approve of you plotting the road trip around yummy delis and old skool pizza places? It’s time to cue up Mr. James Taylor because you? You’ve got a friend, girl.)

THIS IS MISS INDEEDY AND ME AT THE BLOGHER CHEESEBURGHER MICKEY D'S PARTY THE LAST NIGHT. NOTE OUR EYES ARE STARTING TO GLAZE OVER FROM BEER AND SMALL TALK.

As the name implies, BlogHer is a huge blogging network that started with three women in their kitchen in 2005 and ballooned into a gigantic community of bloggers who write about anything and everything you could possibly imagine. The conference is a fantastic opportunity to learn more about the latest technologies, to connect with awesome people from all over the world–and those who live in your back yard–who knew, and… to scope out everyone’s outfits, hair, and shoes. Did I mention it was almost 5,000 women? (Can I get a woot, woot for ES-TRO-GEN!) What else would I be looking at besides shoes and clothes? Okay, maybe the swag.

There were tons and tons of sponsors talking up their services and giving out product samples. Everything from Lysol to Wholly Guacamole to Go Bowling! to…em, ergh, choke, cough, look down at mah banged up knee, seexxxxxay toys. There. I said it. There is no proof I visited that booth. At all. Ever. And if you happen to think you see a picture of someone who sort of looks like ME at that booth, Bearded Iris is full of shizizy and, I happen to know, is down with Photoshop. Bless her heart.

I actually contemplated rocking some sensational journalism and titling this post, “I WENT TO BLOGHER12 AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY VIBRATOR!” as a JOKE, people, a JOKE, but what if, God forbid, my 79 year old mother actually buys a computer and reads this shit!!!

Kidding aside, the week leading up to BlogHer coincided with the print release of my book—naturally! In between trying to prepare for my online book promo and actually getting to hold a copy of Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail For Every Calamity (Now available wherever books are sold—meep!) in hand hours before I left (whee!), coupled with falling down trying on shoes (when is it NOT about the shoes???) and making a mad dash for clothes that didn’t scream “carpool line”, things got kinda crizazy up in this frat house!

If you missed the update on my Muffintopmommy page on Facebook, just know the knee thing might have been the lowpoint of the week:

“Remember when I said I would fall on my head if I wore heels? Well, tonight, I kinda did! Yes, trying on some wedge thingys at Off Broadway, I lost my footing on my bad foot, shrieked like Bieber, fell in a drunken looking downward dog and slammed down on my knee. My knee looks like I’m 10 and got banged up racing on my Huffy Sweet Thunder–bloody, raw, etc. But the worst part was I had to do all this–even though the store is the size of Fenway freaking Park, in front of this 20ish couple, and the boy-man, was all, “Are you okay, ma’am?” Which was a sweet/horrifying/humiliating taco to swallow! SIng with me now, “I’m sexay and I know it!” VIVA LA FLIP FLOP!!! Viva.la.flip.flop!!!!!”

Actually, the low point was in the update, in my 97 mph haste, I typed “heals” instead of “heels”. That misspelling? As of my fun grammar friends who knows me well pointed out, well, it hurt more than my banged up knee. I know there are larger crimes against humanity so I dusted myself off and hobbled off with my dignity intact. I am a good person and people like me!!! (And if you don’t, respect my love for grammar. Respect.the.love!)

All this to say? This is why I schlumped along at BlogHer in sensible shoes. The end.

Okay, not really. There was way more to the BlogHer12 trip than just shoes. Though with a conference full of females, shoes were integral, talked about often, and noticed by moi. One of the absolute highlights of BlogHer for me was getting to visit the glorious 6pm.com booth — one of my fave places to shop for shoes (And purses! And clothes! Oh my!). I’ve blogged and tweeted about them before because the deals are crazy. They are the sister site to Zappos. (You get it now. My work here is done.)

Some other things I learned about my whirlwind, four day trip to New York City for BlogHer:

1. When two different people in one day tell you you look 26 and 28, you should just go home. It ain’t gonna get any better than that. Never you mind it was in a dimly lit ballroom. Never! You! Mind! (Chubby cheeks are starting to grow on me. Wrinkle hiders! Wrinkle hiders!)

2. When you and your friend, Miss Indeedy, are told by another blogger, “Wow, you ladies are really chic…..for New Hampshire!” turn and laugh, because the woman actually…seemed nice and sincere. Living a whole fifty miles north of Boston, we have running water here! And electricity! And a Banana Republic!

3. The best conversations and connections always happen in the ladies room. Fact.

4. No matter where I go in the world, my arse will always find its way to a bar stool at an Irish bar, and at that Irish bar, its success or failure will be judged on the temperature of the beer and the friendliness of the bartender. (Upstairs. McGee’s. 240 W. 55th. Go! Upstairs is where the hilarious female bartender from Chicago works the wood.) (Chicago=Good People. Another fact. So fun to find one in NY.)

5. I still don’t know how to fold a god dang fitted sheet! Lemme ‘splain. One of the lunchtime speakers was none other than Martha Stewart. By the time Miss Indeedy and I got to lunch, it looked like a communist bread line. I’m not kidding! Due to my arse being planted on the aforementioned bar stool too late the night before, I was getting a little hangry (Hungry+ Angry= Hangry) while in line and wanted to run away. But Mommy, I mean, Missy, wouldn’t let me. I don’t get hangry often because, let’s face it, if my muffin top was against the wall, I could live off my fat for three days, easily. But I was legit tired and slightly hanging and headaching so I maybe pouted in my espadrilles a bit. I admit it! Anyway, by the time we got our tuna on pumpernickel there were no seats left at the grand ballroom and I was SOL on hearing Martha. And worse, my dream to charge the stage demanding a sheet folding tutorial, died. Just like that. And now? My fitted sheets remain balled up in my linen closet. Le sigh.

6. The lunchtime speaker the next day was Katie Couric. Yes, she looks fabulous. Yes, she had on fab shoes that I would surely plunge to my death in. Yes, she is so engaging, but also, hilarious—really quick with the one liners and that is the way to my heart. Truly. Can’t wait for her new afternoon show (wait for it…it’s called, Katie..) to start in a matter of weeks. It will be the perfect format for her. She’s targeting smart women–even those of us who can’t even fold fitted sheets– so be sure to check it out! (After you read my book. What? Too much?)

7. BlogHer is so GINORMOUS that even an extroverted muffin top like ME can get overwhelmed (Hence: sniffing out the Irish bar!) and also? Be totally bummed that I didn’t get to connect with everyone I wanted to see and hang with. BOO!

8. Finally? Because I think I hear the music cueing me to exit stage left….Stopping at the famous Halal food cart….at 3PM….with your Irish belly full of adult beverages? No. When the dude asks you if you want hot sauce on your food? MIDDLE EASTERN HOT SAUCE, YO. This ain’t no NH Taco Bell! You say: NO. Thank you. Not, “Sure, let it rip!”

HALAL-AAAAHHHH!!!!

You should know, now that my taste buds and body have recuperated, that Halala! is my new go to word instead of Holla! I was over Holla anyway. I think I should talk to the Halal guys about my catchy new slogan. Maybe next time????

**Thank you to the lovely Amber Strocel for the wonderful interview/podcast she did with me about my book. Listen here if you’d like. (Yes, I do sound 12. Good thing I only look *twennyyyysix*!!! )(Ok, ok, I’m going now. Jeez.)

 

YOU HAVE A QUESTION? I HAVE AN ANSWER! (DEFINITELY. PROBABLY. WELL, I MIGHT.)

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Some things just don't fit into a neat little box. The uncategory!, Suburban Madness, Things that make you go....awwww, Uncategorized | Posted on 25-07-2012

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Last week my seven year old asked if we could get an indoor pool. I tried to give him a quick throwdown in economics that roughly amounted to we’re not rich, famous, rich and famous, richly famous or famously rich. This is the same dude who lost a tooth last month and when I asked him what I thought the tooth fairy might leave him, he responded, “I hope a thousand dollars!” Kid, for a grand, I’ll pull my own tooth and dance a jig by the Cheez Doodles at Walmart. Until then, it’s $5 per tooth and a blow up pool for you, mister!

After Hooked on Econ, I had to teach three year old about hierarchy when he tried to call me out in my own family room. “Why YOU get to drink in here, MA-MAAAA?” I get to drink in here because I pay the mortgage. And I’m an adult and I won’t spill much of it. Maybe I was being more dictator. Tomato, toma-toe. Sue me for wanting to wash down an adult bev during Fresh Beat Band. It gets me in a party mood.

Today? My five year old asked me with a straight face, “Mom, when can we go to Washington D.C. to meet the President?”

Well now you’re talking! Let’s talk democracy! I pretty much told him the prez and all the pols work for us, this is true, but! But! You’d have a better chance of landing a playdate with Suri and Curious George than meeting him.

He looked at me blankly.

“We can’t just roll on up to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. and yell for Barack Obama to come out and play!”

He didn’t seem satisfied.

Credit: Someecards

I love that kids are not cynical. That they really think they can have indoor pools and meet and greets with the President. That they have little concept of money or wealth or power. Or lack of it. That a five year old thinks we can just waltz on up to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. and ring for Barack has to be the very definition of ignorance being bliss.

“Baraaack?? Michelle??? We’re here! Got any juice boxes??? 95 was a bitch and I’mmmmm thirsty! Some stupid motorcade was in our way. Pfft!”

I’m fairly certain the Secret Service might flatten the muffo de toppo if I hopped the fence to try to make some casual introductions. (What other fun family outings can we plan that will get us on the FBI watch list? I do like to encourage some hands on summer learnin’ so we could start with an introduction to the judicial system—screw those boring childrens’ museums!)

I do like that five year old is aiming high though, I really do. I mean, we live in New Hampshire, where future presidents mingle amongst the masses of asses during primary season, and hey, we did meet a future Senator at the town dump one day! (She looked fabulous and even the eau de dump did not overshadow her brightness. I had on no makeup and a baseball hat. I suppose I should be grateful “Lisa the crappy photographer” was not at the ready this time!)

The questions never cease around here and I try to be prepared but sometimes? I’m caught sans make up with a beat up baseball hat and nothing intelligent to offer. (Please refer to Seth Meyers post.)

So having said that, don’t you want to try your luck? Next Tuesday night, the 31st, I’m having a video book chat to talk Mommy Mixology and other fun biz on Shindig from 8 PM to 9 PM eastern standard time. You can ask me anything you want and I may or may not answer intelligently–won’t it be fun to find out! I should qualify, I will answer almost anything. I will never reveal my pant size. Seven year old knows it because he busted in on me in the bathroom one day (imagine that!) and then shouted it out because the Gap (thanks for nothing!) had to print the size on the waistband of my shorts in like 32 point font. Why God why? In case I went shorts shopping and forgot my Sherlock Holmes magnifying glass??? Bad, Gap, bad. That’s what I get for straying from my bestie Land’s End with their tiny size tags. Anyway, don’t even dream of shaking it out of seven year old. He pinky promised not to tell anyone. He might have visions of grandeur and no concept of money, but he knows a promise is a promise and he knows who keeps him in ice cream and juice.

ON SECOND THOUGHT, MAYBE I CAN'T TRUST HIM. Credit: Someecards

Here are the deets if you want to Shindig it up with me–apparently you need to sign up to join in on the adventure:

http://mommymixology.eventbrite.com/

As an added bonus, Lisa the crappy photographer will be on hand to assist me and wrestle me to the ground if I try to wear my psychadelic Seth Meyers shirt! I am already giddy with delight at how super svelte and wonderful I will look under the glow of my laptop cam! Suhhweeet!!!

 

 

 

A CONTEST WINNER, A MEA CULPA, AND SOME NEWS TO GO WITH!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, OH &^%$!!, Uncategorized | Posted on 17-07-2012

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I cannot STAND when people leave me hanging!

Which is why I feel so flat out ter-ri-blaaaay that I had a contest on my blog, and then left six hours after the contest deadline for a destination where I had no wireless internet for two weeks. (You know what? At first I was all, “Whaaa??” when I sat down with my laptop and realized I was so shut out, but it did not suck. I had my phone to keep up with Facebookin’/TomKat’s divorce, etc, but overall, it was a great chance to disconnect and bond with the fam.) The fun, the sun, the sand, the tantrums, and…..the impending melanoma??? I’m sure I’ll be sending some dermatologist’s kid to college some day if my arteries don’t clog first, but for now, all good!

The really good news is I had full access to Real Housewives of New JerseyFifty Shades of Grey and Doc McStuffins, so I absolutely kept my brain active. (Bites lip vs. flips table. I’d love to see Teresa go wo-mano to wo-mano with Ana! Sweet Doc McStuffins could patch them up after the Brawl de Beatches and teach them a thing or two.)

Anyway, since I couldn’t blog and announce the winner while I was away, I put most of my energy into working the muffin top and honing my fourth chin. It went well. It really did.

The even better news is, there was no dishwasher OR washer and dryer on my witness protection getaway, so I got to watch my hubs do dishes by hand while I supervised (I really should thank my mother in law, shouldn’t I?) and kill the environment one paper plate at at time (hanging head in shame). Witness protection has its benefits though.

 

EVERYONE IN WITNESS PROTECTION NEEDS A BODYGUARD. THIS IS MUSCLES MAGOO. HE WILL FLATTEN YOU IF YOU TRY TO TAKE OUR LAST COOKIE. DON'T UNDERESTIMATE.

Yet another highlight? Visiting a laundromat that has remained untouched since the Carter administration:

I FORGOT MY STINKING ASH TRAY AGAIN! (AND MY COOLER. IT WAS LIKE 157 BILLION DEGREES IN THERE. IF I EVER OPEN A LAUNDROMAT, IT'S GONNA HAVE A BAR IN IT. DON'T STEAL MY IDEA OR IMMA SENDING MUSCLES MAGOO AFTER YOUR ASS.)

 

The only thing they seem to have updated in that laundry joint is the prices. I smell a racket!

Despite my groovy hot tub time machine trip, when I still came home with 473 loads of laundry, I truly felt grateful I have a washer and dryer and that I can save my quarters for tolls future casino trips.

I THINK THE MAKERS OF "ALL" LAUNDRY DETERGENT NEED TO BE SENDING ME A THANK YOU NOTE!

I have to tell you, your responses to the caption challenge truly made me laugh out loud—I thank every one of you who took a shot—I love and appreciate that you did. It was way harder than I thought to pick a winner, but ultimately I had to go with the caption that made hubs and me laugh the hardest. I will be having another contest in a few weeks so I do hope you stay tuned for another chance.

Sooooo, congrats to Keri, you are the big WINNAH! Email me your addy to janet at muffintopmommy.com with the title “Contest Winnah”. As soon as Mommy Mixology is out (the publication date just got pushed back to August, boo), your copy will be in the mail! You seriously had me at, “Provides hours of fun without any mouthy sarcasm.” Peed mah Hanes Her Way granny pants. Not an easy feat. (Ok, kind of an easy feat, but usually that happens on trampolines/overrated exercises and not from laughing.)

In the meantime, Thursday night I’m participating in a podcast with Amber at www.strocel.com and I’ll let you know when that’s available if you’d like to listen. There are other upcoming events for Mommy Mixology so stay tuned here and on my Muffintopmommy pages on Facebook if you’re up for it.

Until then, rock the top!

 

 

 

 

A CONTEST? A PRIZE? YES AND YES–WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!!!!

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, OH &^%$!!, Random Rage, Some things just don't fit into a neat little box. The uncategory! | Posted on 24-06-2012

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It’s summer! I’m ready to play!

Who wants to play?

Here’s your chance to laugh, make all the muffintopmommy readers laugh, and make me laugh. I laugh, you laugh, we all laugh. Laughity laugh laugh.

At my expense.

Even better!

I *try* (and sometimes fail –keep it to yourself homies!) to make you guys laugh every week, but now I’m turning the tables and asking you to bring the funny. Hubs took the following pic of me acting like a total spaz (please, suspend your disbelief) in a bounce house last week. Looking hawt again, yes I am not. And we thought the Seth Meyers pic was bad!

STOP WITH THE JEALOUSY NOW! IT'S JUST NOT A NICE QUALITY.

Um, I told you.

Anyway, I looked at the pic and decided it’s screaming for a funny caption. So I’m turning the tables on you, my crazy funny readers who leave me awesome comments that make me laugh (Which is my only form of payment for this labor of love–a moment of silence puhleease because clearly, I am never gettin’ a pony. Or name brand Spanx. Sigh.). Your jobby job is to write a funny caption for this photo. The caption can be as out there as you want—there are no rules. I’m tired of rules, aren’t you? “Don’t play ball in the house!” (Mrs. Brady needed a stiff drink and…never mind..) and “No loitering!” (I like to loiter! Life it short–we should loiter more! Loi-ter! Loi-ter!) and “No substitutions!” (WTH. But I want a substitution! Everyone deep down wants a substitution, because you always put onnnnne crappy app in the combo platter that noooone wants! You know it and I know it.)

So, let’s repeat.

No rules! No rules! No rules!

Whoever writes the funniest caption (as super subjectively judged by Muffintopmommy and whatever panel of super unscientific unserious peers happen to be on hand), submitted in the comment section of this post, by this Friday, June 29th, at midnight, eastern standard time, otherwise known as the time zone in which I live, wins a FREE!!! copy of my upcoming book, Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail For Every Calamity. The book will not be released until mid to late July (But! It is available for preorder online —and if you’re the type to shake your Christmas presents, you can peek inside the book on Amazon—woop! I won’t say if I myself am a shaker—I’ll only say hubs keeps my Xmas gifts off premises. He clearly has trust issues!). Sooooo, as soon as I have the actual book in my hot little hands I will ship it to THE BIG WINNAH!!!!!

(I regret to inform you I will not be able to ship a book internationally at this time. :( BOO! Please forgive me international muffintoppers—I love you in every language I can never hope to speak. Please don’t be mad! Please don’t look at me that way! I’ll make it up to you some day, I promise!)

Ok, ready everyone?

And……..go!

10 E-Z TIPS FOR GETTING YOUR PIC TAKEN WITH A CELEB (LIKE, I DUNNO, SETH MEYERS)

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Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in Awesomeness, Boys, boys, boys! And did I mention, boys?, Friends...you got what I ne-ed, Mom-ness, OH &^%$!!, Random Rage, Suburban Madness, Things that make you go....awwww, Uncategorized | Posted on 04-06-2012

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1. Make sure you bathe that day. (I did!) Add 1 point.

2. Wear shoes that you’ve mastered walking in. (I did!) Avoid wedges that may cause you to tumble head first into said celeb. (Shockingly, I did not! Tumbling face first into traffic in New Haven, CT  really teaches a middle aged hausfrau a lesson! Stop, drop, and roll kids!) Add 2 points.

3. Scramble through your mom-drobe full of khaki shorts and solid color tee shirts, with at least one child hanging on you screeching for a juice box, and pluck the loudest, flowy-est, trippi-est, guaranteed to make those around you feel like they toked it upp-ist when they look at you–shirt you can find in your closet. (I did!) Minus 537 points.

4. When your husband arrives home from a long, arduous workday on the links, ask him if he likes your loud, flowy, trippy shirt. When he remarks, “I love it!” in between waxing poetic about his (Birdie? Pars? Whatever, Phil Mickelson.), do.not.believe.him. He’s not a chick. He’s not listening–he’s on a golf glow. He wants to get laid sometime again in this lifetime. He clearly can’t be trusted. How dumb am I? Rookie mistake. (Minus 47 points.) (P.S. to the hubs: Guess what book I’m ordering? 50 Shades of Nuthin‘!)

5. Make sure you consume a solid dinner of 1.5 potato skins and ?? glasses of chardonnay, take a two hour break, then drink two draft beers at a Mexican restaurant that probably hasn’t cleaned their taps since Christ was a child (chardonnay and draft beer–two great tastes that taste great together nooooo) so you’ll be at your most clever and bright stunningly rambly later in the night! (Eh, minus 5 points. Even celebs do that. I’m not ready for Promises to Keep just yet.)

6. Have the picture taken under the glow of a screaming neon light (photographers should totally use neon lights more) so as best to enhance your worn off makeup/bright red “I’ve had a few drinks/Irish potato skin” face. Have your friend take it with your kick ass Target camera that’s probably out of focus and has been dropped 52 times by the pint sized terrorists you live with–the same ones indirectly responsible for your hasty shirt choice. (Minus 10 points.) (Lisa Wallace, you are not responsible for the catastrophe that is moi!)

7. Close your eyes during the picture so you can show the world that you are so excited to meet the celeb you fell asleep mid sentence! (Add 5 points)

8. Make sure you cock your head to the side, with your eyes closed, at such an angle that it both enhances and highlights all four of your chins and makes it appear you’re trying to snuggle on the celeb’s shoulder. (Minus 5 billion points.)

9. When you open your mouth to speak, don’t. Just don’t. Have your friend carry duct tape just in case you can’t be trusted to mutter a generic, “So lovely to meet you! I’m a big fan of your work!” Especially….if you’re at risk of speaking in one loud, run on sentence about writing, your blog, your book, and are prone to make recommendations to the celebrity about trading in his matching towels for a kid, then both nonsensically yet enthusiastically remark, “Tell the prez I said hi!” Just stfu and keep on moving. Even if your eyes are closed and your shoes are wrong, and you might walk off a cliff. (You might be doing the world a favor!)  (I might have done some all of this. *Hangs head in shame.* Minus higher than English major can count, points.) Instead, pretend you’re on one of those moving airport sidewalk thingys…smile, wave, shake hands, stop for one second, and keep on keeping on…back away slowly, while smiling brightly with your eyes wide open!

10. If you don’t think you can be trusted to adhere to steps 1-9, and are possibly not fit for human interaction, just stay home in your favorite pink snowman pj’s. (Zero points. Come onnnn, don’t hate the playah, just hate the game. You gotta try! Celebs are just people, too. They trip over their own feet too sometimes. I just know it. Probably most do. Everyone but Seth Meyers. He’s a smooth criminal and his mama raised him right.)

SORRY SETH MEYERS! IT'S ALL CHARDONNAY/THE LIGHTING/MY INABILITY TO SPEAK IN CONCISE SENTENCES/THE HUB'S FAULT.

 

Soooooooooo. Yeah. I went a little cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. I tried to explain to the hubs that me meeting a famous writer who’s living the dream is like a high school hockey player meeting Tim Thomas. Or a suburban golfer meeting Tiger Woods (if Tiger Woods were worth meeting..the piggy wiggy!) But, I have to tell you, my tens of readers, all kidding aside? Seth Meyers is a mensch. Yes, he is. His mama really did raise him right. Not only was he gracious in listening to me ramble and posing for a picture (Sorry! Sorry! Sorry to the lovely, Kelly, who set the pic up for me! Sorry! I hope Seth is still speaking to you!) , more importantly, he was in my town (his hometown) to perform a show at our high school to benefit our education foundation not to be stalked by a muffin top. His mom, known affectionately around town by her students as “Madame Meyers”, retired after 28 years of teaching French in our school system. 28 years, people! With shorties in middle school (Also known as the most sucktasticly difficult age group ever–oh come, on..we all know it! Think about how YOU were then!). 28 years! I wouldn’t last 28 minutes.

As a tribute to her, he put on one hell of a hilarious show and raised over $40,000 to fund special programs for teachers. And, established a $25,000 endowment for language arts in his mom’s name. I know!

I’m the mom of three boys and my mom taught second grade for a number of years. So naturally I have a soft spot for sons who honor their mamas and for the too often thankless job teachers do. A few months ago, there was a huge vote in our town about teacher raises. I wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper imploring people to vote and in it I said, “Our teachers spend well over thirty hours per week with our kids. They educate our kids. They nurture our kids in our absence. And yes, they inspire our kids to challenge themselves and help instill confidence in them. We can have the most wonderful facilities, books, and technology available, but without our teachers those buildings are just a pile of bricks and mortar. The teachers make all the difference. I would challenge everyone to think back to a teacher who made a difference in their lives–and I’d be surprised if you only thought of one or even two.”

It’s true. Teachers really help shape who we are and what we become. I hope Seth Meyers reminded people of that the other night. And while most of us won’t grow up to be a Seth Meyers or come close to enjoying his success or influence, we should all be grateful to the teachers who’ve made a difference in our lives and do what we can do, however small, to help support them as they support our kids–our biggest investments.

(Side bar? And please with the “Wah, wah, teachers get their summers off!” Hell yeah, and they need them…to recuperate from the kids and crizazy parents who stalk them—now on email and in person. Do you want me to go into detail about the parent who cornered my mama by the frozen peas and made me late for the season finale of Miami Vice? Sorry Tubbs! Would you corner your accountant in the bakery and start showing him your receipts? I dare you. I really do.) Seriously. I chaperoned a field trip a few weeks ago and you know what happened…I got a migraine and was forced to drink beers in front of some nuns.  It’s not pretty what these teachers go through. (Don’t get me started about the lesson planning, paper grading, after “They get out at 3!” on nights and weekends, and buying all kinds of shizzy with their own money due to cheaptastic budgets.)

So yeah, I admire Seth Meyers for being a talented writing force, enough to stalk him like a crazed, tripped out muffin top, but what I love more is that he hasn’t forgotten where he came from—and that he recognizes the foundation for his success started at home, here in this place.

Soooo, in light of all that, no hard feelings that Seth did not answer my tweet from earlier in the day where I invited him to tailgate under the bleachers before the show. I told him I had a 12 pack and I wasn’t afraid to share it. Perhaps he thought I needed it more. Maybe he was hanging out with his awesome teacher mama. Or my shirt scared him off. Either way, I totally understand.

Thank you, Seth Meyers, and merci (that’s all I got!), Madame Meyers, for your generosity to this town–the town my hubs and I love, where we’ve chosen to raise and educate our kids. You both have had such an important role to play here. To teach, to remind, to make people laugh? Is truly divine, isn’t it?

One more thing? (See? I told you concise sentences…not my thing! Now you know why I talked too long to Seth!)

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND GETTING YOUR PICTURE TAKEN SOBER, WITH FRESH MAKEUP, IN A SOLID COLOR, WITH PROPER LIGHTING, TAKEN WITH A FANCY CAMERA BY A PROFESSIONAL! THANK YOU DEBBIE ELLIS PHOTOGRAPHY!

 

I wonder if I could photo shop Seth into that picture? Hmm….My apologies if you had to bleach your eyes from that last photo. Btw, this photo will be in MAH book, Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail for Every Calamity! Now available on Amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com for pre-order. MEEP!! (If you forget the title, just ask *cough* Seth.) Okay, I’m backing away slowly now…..I really am. No, I am.