Things I Don't Understand, Items 404 thru 406

404. How they get Sauvignon Blanc to taste like buffalo armpits
405. Why the Mayan calendar didn't mention any prophecies about 2011 being The Year That Would Produce the Most Photographs of Brutal Dictators Having the Worst Hair Days of Their Lives
406. Jazz that becomes upsetting

Cooper Being Woody Allen in Zelig

Here he miraculously transforms his entire body into hardwood floor panelling as everyone within eye shot gasps in wonder.

Of his astounding ability to turn into whatever or whoever he was near, including the entire Mormon Tabernacle choir, a horse fly and lime jello, he once said "No big whoop."

Monday Judgements and Warnings

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM A HUSBAND AND HIS PILES OF WIRES.

Screw your jumbled up and tangled mayhem,
Odelette Orderly
President
Where Have All the Bare Surfaces Gone?, Inc.

Sunday Prayer

Dear Santa,

I know you are not the one in charge of things, even though you have the largest black shiny belt on earth and your bushy eyebrows --- the way you allow them to run amok --- are a testament to the beauty of being comfortable in your own skin, but could you throw a little Ease and Fluidity and Unshakable Confidence in my stocking this Christmas so that I may move forward into this next year with a certain unstoppable momentum that buoys me instead of overwhelms me and while you're at it can you take my tired longing for all that does not reflect my own goodness and can you replace that longing with a wise and constant voice that is louder and clearer than all the darkness that is so easy to cover myself over with.

Over and out,
Tina Tinselheart

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday, when the lunatics we live with are busy making a racket downstairs, assigning food that hasn't even been prepared yet to dishes and platters and bowls, we like to take a little breather and tip toe up to the quietest part of the house and listen for the sound of overweight man feet and reindeer hooves walking on the roof and if we are able to achieve total silence we swear we can smell the aroma of Pupperonis soaring across the late afternoon sky and straight into our eager nostrils.

Go, Santa, Go,
Baby Jesus of the Badbreathlehem

Things I Don't Understand, Items 401 thru 403

401. The color of Newt Gingrich's wife's hair
402. How mutinous pajama bottoms can be
403. Why someone doesn't shoot a torpedo straight into the faces of newscasters who psychotically harp on the whole Zany Christmas Shoppers Who Wait Until the Last Minute! story angle

Cooper Being Keanu Reeves in Point Break

"Am I as handsome as I think I am?" he asks a nearby production assistant.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

I've been using Facebook for about a year and I've noticed that there are some buttons missing.  I get the Like and Share buttons.  I use those a lot---just to give a shout out to my FB homies if you know what I mean.  But I was wondering if you knew where the following buttons are because I cannot find them:

*You and your partner are late stage alcoholics and should go to the emergency room
*Unjustifiably Conceited
*Do you think you'll ever stop?
*I doubt your story
*It seems like you practice your smile in the mirror
*Thank you for showing me how petty and judgmental I am
*Loathe
*Too much nose hair
*Cornball, About To Unfriend

Do I need to download a specific app in order to get these to work or should I just get goin' on my feedback in the comment section?
---Eagerly Waiting To Offer Input In Ypsilanti

Dear Input,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

I know it Tis the Season of Love and Joy and Reynolds Wrap and Orange Zest and Glenfiddich and all that but just so you know Tis also the Season of Receiving You-Dead-Lil-Missy Looks Just Because You Don't Have a PhD In Tim Tebow.

If you need me I'll be hiding in my stocking,
Dumbshit, The Unknowingest Elf

Sunday Prayer

That’s what it is.  It’s that I lost him.  It’s that I saw him, leaving---in the act of leaving---AS he was leaving, and I ran into the room and I threw my body across him.

Don’t leave don’t leave don’t leave.  Don’t leave me.

His eyes are not his now.  I see that he is not in this room with me.  With us.

“Is he dying? Is he dying?” we ask the hospice nurse.

I want him to know how much I love him.  I want him to know that he was a good father. 

The best father.  The finest father who showed me how to be. How to overcome struggle. He had this way about him.  He had this simple grounded way of being. 

“You were always my metronome,” I tell him, “I will always strive to be more like you.”

Above all.  Above everything and all of this---I do not want him to go.  But my sister and I tell him that it’s okay for him to leave.  I think we’ve read this somewhere or we just know it in our bones like how you know it is not polite to pry.

Maybe he will be able to breathe freely now. Big, wide open breaths from the bottom of his belly.  And lots of walking.

We’re still worried he will be lost without us. 

I know I’ll be lost without him.  My fan club.  My advocate.  That face with those sweet eyes.  I will miss the way he looked at me.  Proud.  Loyal.  

His view of me is what I clung to.

But in this moment I am the one to hold onto his delicate hand and whisper to him that he was the best and that he is my hero and such good company and that I hope he knows that.

I mix tenses in the midst of death.

Mostly I know I don’t want him to go. Mostly I know I will never recover even though I know he will want me to, I won’t.  

I’ll stay here, terrified, with my sister.  We will usher him out knowing there will now just be two of us.  Two of what was once three. It is this thought that we will spend the rest of our lives processing.

Mostly I want him to know that I will always wonder what he was thinking as he left.  Did he know it was the three of us together in those last moments?  Did he know that we rallied around him to hold his hand and tell him we loved him and make sure his pillow was placed just right? Did he feel our presence and our love?  Did he understand that we would never be the same without him?

Maybe this is why I chase beauty.  Maybe this is why I long for a glimpse of that beach or sky or bird or smile or shadow or moon that envelopes me and takes me to that particular place that is equal parts beauty and equal parts pain.

He told me once that to see the world in a way that does it justice is to be thin skinned because that is the only way that all of it can get through.  And as it does get through, even though it feels amazing, it feels simply awful all at the same time.

Here's to all the thin skinned ones.  Here's to the scary beauty, everywhere making us shake in our bones and reminding us of everything we've ever known.

You say boo-hoo like it's a bad thing,

Big Mama Maudlin

Things I Don't Understand, Items 398 thru 400

398. Pickled herring
399. The color periwinkle
400. Bullies

Cooper Being Mata Hari

In this photo, taken from his book How To Be An Interloper, he demonstrates the advanced Neck-Stretch-Over-Chair-Arm technique that he infamously used to eavesdrop on and then overtake a gathering of distracted panko encrusted apricot pork chop, flaky dinner roll and roasted potato eaters, thereby enabling him to acquire the most gigantic and prolonged ground score of all time.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

I am aware that Apple and Microsoft and Google and that lady that lives in iPhones are in the process of taking over the world but do you know if these devices will eventually make my beloved potholders obsolete and, if so, should my menu planning be focused solely on lukewarm foods?
---Freaked Out and Forlorn in Folsom

Dear Freaked,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

Hello class.  Here are the Age Bracket Guidelines regarding when you can use the word "toot" when you're talking about farting:

In utero - age four:  YES

Age four -  death:  NO

If you think this is a joke---think again,
Professor Punch In Face

Things I Don't Understand, Items 395 thru 397

395. Christmas songs sung by Fiona Apple
396. How wrong it feels that other people drive on my favorite
secret shortcut street
397. Who, exactly, determines the preparation time for recipes

Cooper Being Julia Roberts in Flatliners

The toothy actress, seen here in a coma on the set, fell in love with Kiefer Sutherland while filming the star studded thriller.

"It was a combination of his unlaced high top sneakers, his trench coat, his bi-level poodle haircut and his binge drinking," he says, swooning.

Monday Judgements and Warnings

This afternoon I was driving behind a bright white extra jumbo Cadillac Escalade and at first when I saw it careen in front of me after not stopping at the 4-Way stop we found ourselves I was quite alarmed because it appeared out of nowhere and it looked so much like the continent of Antarctica that I thought I was about to be ramrodded by a glacier but I was relieved to see that it was just a super duper building sized SUV with an angry lady who looked, ironically, like a seal wearing a LOT of makeup and after she nearly sideswiped me and stuck her big fat car butt in my face I noticed a bumper sticker that said:

IF NOT FOR LOVE THEN WHY?

And she was in too much of a rage filled skirmish with other drivers at the time but had she slowed down for just a moment I could have told her:  CHEETOS.


I Calls 'em Likes I Sees 'em,
Henrietta Honker

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday we like to gnaw ourselves into such a Chew Trance that the only thing to bring us back into this dimension is the sound of the Greenies package opening and every time this mystical scenario happens we freeze with joy because we simply cannot believe the limitless quality of our glorious bounty.

Things I Don't Understand, Items 392 thru 394

392. Adele's hair
393. The way midwifery is pronounced
394. Why Giada De Laurentiis has to smile like a crazy killer person when she has so much going for her

Cooper Being Peter Finch in Network

Thought of by many as The Original Occupier, he often recited his famous I'm Mad As Hell and I'm Not Going To Take It Anymore! protest while standing in the 15 item express check-out line behind some idiot with 45 items.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

This morning, when I was watching the Today Show, I saw an interview with a boy named Colton Burpo who wrote a book titled, Heaven Is For Real, about how he went to heaven.  And it is for real.  And in the interview he regaled everyone with all the incredible details about how he walked around heaven and how he met the lord (I mean hot damn, right?) and how he is going to write another book. And as I listened to him I wondered if you think it would be okay to ask little Colton why, if he spent so much time shufflin' around the pearly gates in his Vans, did he not make a pit stop at the Identity Department in order to figure out what IN THE HELL he did to earn the last name of BURPO or do you think any poking around in this area will result in Saint El Burpito unleashing an army of fiery chariots on me?
---Squinty Eyed with Suspicion in Syracuse

Dear Squinty,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Things That Are Easier Than Trying To Explain How To Get the Television Back On Channel 3 So the Cable Will Start Working Again To Your Aging Parent Over the Phone

1. Assembling a nuclear bomb in the pitch dark

2. Driving your car using only your nose

3. Climbing Mount Everest while carrying all three of the Black Eyed Peas
on your back

4. Getting Kanye West and Jerry Falwell on the same page

5. Winning the Kentucky Derby riding a Cuisinart 

Saturday SlobberLove

There are some faces I never get tired of looking at.  My sister's children possess two of those faces.  They are possibly the only two faces that thrill me with their gorgeousness every single time I see them.

My sister and I used to spend good portions of whole afternoons talking about how it was almost bizarre how cute my nephew was and when my niece was born we would stare at her while she watched Barney and furrow our brows because we simply could not process her cuteness.

It is almost as if they are too cute to comprehend.  This is how we explained it to ourselves.

Looking back, I know now that they were indeed incredibly cute but as they grow into young people who will become adults I see that their faces remind me how far my heart can stretch and how important it is to be kind and that they gracefully carry a certain open awareness that shines such a bright light of hope and strength that it is hard to ever look away.

You Can Call Me Auntie,
Deputy of Doting
Heart Bursting Precinct
Continually Astonished Division

Things I Don't Understand, Items 389 thru 391

389. Why Justin Bieber doesn't pull his pants up
390. Black Friday camp out people
391. When Rachel Ray does that thing where she carries 57 ingredients from the pantry to her cutting board like she's a pack mule who'll be shot if she doesn't do it all in one trip

Cooper Being the Dalai Lama

Here, His Holiness meditates on what he is most grateful for, such as the aromatic behinds of each and every canine that crosses his path---or that doesn't cross his path for that matter.

"You must be the sniff and then you must let the sniff go," he advises, with so much love and wisdom.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

I'm not sure if you can help me because I may not have long to live but I thought I'd write to you just in case you had some key information that might save me and my small family.  What happened was I recently cooked a recipe from a cookbook that has VERY definite sections for each season---Spring.  Summer.  Fall.  Winter.---and I guess I was feeling lawless because the other night I decided screw it and I whipped up a yummy Corn Chowder from the Summer section even though it is Fall thinking no one would ever notice but moments after my husband and I finished our bowls of smoky goodness a rock came hurling through our living room window with a note attached to it that said YOU DIE, SEASON IGNORER! and the next morning when I went to start the car there was an ominous message written in what appeared to be unsalted butter smeared across the windshield that said IF IT'S SUMMER WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING A BATHING SUIT YOU IDIOT? and after that I realized this might be serious and I filed a police report and we have set up a barricade to protect ourselves from the hand grenades but we wanted to know---is there any national protection from this Seasonal Recipe Mafia or should we just consider ourselves goners?
---Petrified and Panting in Puyallup

Dear Panting,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

Just in case you missed the recent addendum to your How To Be a Human Rule Book, here are the What To Never Ever Think or Argue In Defense Of chapter details:

Glen Campbell and Tanya Tucker Were a Good Couple

Capeci?
Delilah Don't Be a Dope

Sunday Survey

THIS IS HOW IT WORKS:

An idea flutters around me for a while, for a good solid time, for the time it takes until I can't ignore it and it tells me to write about that time I helped my dad in the hospital.  That time when he was sicker than any person I'd ever seen sick.  He was sicker than I'd thought he deserved.  But the idea tells me to write about that time.  How we both knew, without talking about it, that this was the moment that would change us forever and this was the moment that would forge us together as BRAVE.

This is what the idea does. It sits around like a drooling Labrador.

Go on ahead and write about the way you and Linda used to spend hours taking in your Ditto jeans until they were so tight you doubted you would even be able to step over a small bench on the 9th grade lawn.  Write about that now, regardless.  Regardless of how much you don't want to---especially because of that.  This is the idea's idea of a big joke---

Keeping track of all the stuff I want to say just in case anyone else has ever felt it---this is the idea's gigantic, weird job---filling up notebooks with scribbles like:
CLUTTER KILLS and
Twinkle Toes and Worry Wart and Anxiety Blog and
Don't Do One Thing That Scares You and
Un-Mommy and
What Other People Fight About and
Finding Out Mom Wasn't Crazy But Just Selfish and Lazy and
Oh the Bougainvillea brightens the grimy street gravel and
In the morning the newscasters are dreary serious although their hair is big and real and
That time I saw Ed Begley, Jr. in my rear view mirror screaming at his girlfriend and
I'mNotALoser.com and
How the most nice people are often times the most hateful and
Anger is hurt left unattended and
When In Doubt, Be You and
All these other lives I will never ever know and
The difference between What I Was Thinking and What I Said and
The Big Club of Motherless Children and
They all smoked because they didn't know and
How many others overheard the unhearable and
Those mornings when the light makes things so much more doable and
I AM WORTHY YOU ASSHOLE and
Places Other Than Here and
and, and, and, and, and, and,
and, and, and,

Does that ever happen to you?

Toodles,
Lieutenant Lookaway It Never Stops
Platitude Precinct
Long Winded Division

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday, we like to spend some tender, philosophical moments staring out the window from our Captain's Perch and think about how fortunate we are that our shrill bark carries as far as it does from up here---on the arm of the couch.  

And we feel a little weak in the haunches, to be honest with you, thinking about how carefree and fanciful our life is now compared to the dangerous dark days of our childhood before we were rescued and we come to believe that, aside from that aging basset hound that gets chauffeured around the neighborhood in a stroller, we think we might just be the luckiest hound in the whole wide world.

Things I Don't Understand, Items 386 thru 388

386. How James Carville and Mary Matlin make their marriage work
387. Babies who seem mean
388. What screening is in place to deem something as "gently used"

Cooper Being Greg Louganis

This photo, taken moments before his perfect, splashless execution of the now famous Nose Diver Twist Around Fifty Times and Look Like An Anvil dive from the roof of a twelve story building into an extra large oval dutch oven, showcases the swimmer's flawless form. 

Things I Like More Than Herman Cain

1. Gingivitis
2. Dolls who come to life and try to kill me with hatchets
3. Being forced to follow the advice of Milli Vanilli's publicist
4. Noxious paint fumes
5. Waking up and realizing I have Keith Richards' complexion

Monday Judgements and Warnings

You might want to keep this on the down low but let me tell it to you straight and letcha know that if you are feeling particularly festive as we embark upon this Season Of Joy and you decide that NOW IS THE TIME to go on and on and on about how the The Bee Gees' Fanny (Be Tender With My Love) is the best song ever written and you decide to sing a little bit of the crescendo that happens at the end and then talk about how it sounds like an opera or something, like Nessun Dorma, the way it hits that flaming rocket note that makes the hair on your arms stand up?  You might think this is a good decision because you're certain the acquaintances you're with will agree with you and swoon along as you weep with joy remembering the sweet shrill timber of Barry Gibb's voice---but you would be wrong in this instance.  You would be terribly wrong.

Whatever,
Sara Singalong
Solo Division
Shut Up, Inc.

Sunday Prayer

Dear God,

I know my prayers are more like wishes but will you try to (and I say this with full knowledge that you are busier than the gatekeeper lady at the Target dressing room) make sure that everyone I love knows I love them and they know that even if I act more like Joseph Stalin than Jonathan Livingston Seagull in my dumbest moments it is just because I am a big ball of struggling lostness trying to see my way nearer to them where I might catch the glow of their glorious shiny sparklyness that is, often times, the only light I use to find my way.

OK thanks for your time then,
Sergeant Sentimental

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday, after a couple two or five or twelve run ins with that cunning bastard The Vacuum Cleaner---that gladiator beast who knows no mercy---after we've gone to the absolute outer limits of our own unbridled fear and charged that Mighty Devil of a rolling, hissing, lukewarm air blowing death tank on wheels, we usher ourselves into our cozy place and we allow the one in our tribe who possesses the courage to wrestle with that loud crazy killing machine that sucks up everything in its path to wrap us in our favorite cream colored blanket and we reflect on what it is to be a soldier and we know deep in our soul that if we were confronted with danger every day in whatever form (rogue plastic bags, flies in the house, freakish pillows with minds of their own, mastodon buses out to get us) we would rise up again and again and throw ourselves in the fight gladly if it meant keeping our beloved pack mates from one moment of harm and it doesn't even matter to us if they realize this because we know we can do it.  We know we have what it takes.

Yours In Armorless Battle,
Brave Guy Beagle Mix

Things I Don't Understand, Items 383 thru 385

383. Why poop is called "stool"
384. How those shows that have video of people, dogs and babies falling off cliffs, hurtling into brick walls, having the wind knocked out of them and running head first into rakes are supposed to be funny
385. Sean Hannity's water buffalo hairdo

Cooper Being Hal Holbrook in All the President's Men

Here he dispenses invaluable top secret advice regarding following the money, how to handle H.R. Haldeman's spiky hairdo and the overriding importance of making sure there are plenty of shots showcasing Robert Redford's lanky cool walk---all while standing in the humid underground parking garage of a JC Penney.

Monday Judgements and Warnings

I don't want to frighten you too terribly but please be aware that if you peacefully finish your last load of laundry and you are filled with that Happy Fold feeling and you wander upstairs into your bedroom at the exact moment that a bunch of big mouthed Music Man types are performing Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It" a capella on The Sing-Off you will experience several moments of SHOCK---like, What? Who? How? WHY? and then the reality of the situation will set in and you will become mute and sweaty but in your stupor you will come to understand the true meaning of NO and shortly before you start shaking your head back and forth over and over again until you pass out your last image will be of a dwarfish poofy haired Patti Lupone wannabe getting all cheetah faced while he does a fake drum thing on the top of his right thigh.

I'd wish you luck if I were still alive,
Henrietta Help Me

Sunday Prayer

Oh holy creator of life, supplier to my horn of plenty, giver of grace and yummy stuff I can nibble on when no one is looking:  please oh please I throw myself at your mercy and I beg you to guide me on my journey as I try to understand the lunatics I live with and why they think my glorious barking is unacceptable in every way.  Do they not know it is the way of my people?  Do they not comprehend the danger that transmits from every sound and whisper and honk?  Please dear lord and provider of Pupperoni---show me the way and bestow patience upon me or at least make the crackpots that feed me understand that they can butt out and go on about their business and I, The Loud Hound will take care of the home front because that is what I was born to do glory hallelujah amen.

We Be Woofin',
Emperor Barkohito

Saturday SlobberLove

If I told you how much braver I've gotten since I've been married you wouldn't believe me.

I think I became brave because the part of my own true heart that had my best interests in mind knew that it might be fun for me to not be a shaky, suspicious scardy cat forever and that I shouldn't hole up in my warm, wonderful, predictable, safe, damn fine cave forever. 

Even though I wanted to.  Even though I still long for the comfort of Being All Alone and cozy--- free from some other asshole's input. 

It is as if I pieced my life together against my will in that cave and I made a flimsy colorful mosaic that I knew would withstand the elements and I galumphed out into the open, petrified and full of longing and hope and desperation and practiced charm and I found someone, maybe the ONLY one who I felt kind of but not really sort of safe enough to follow and we took turns blaming each other and railing against all the crap that rose to the surface to be tended to in the presence of what we brewed up together which, on our (many) best days, we would describe as our good and mostly fearless love.

Yours In That Feeling Of Ain't It All a Crap Shoot,
Beulah Barbed Wire

Things I Don't Understand, Items 380 thru 382

380. Water Parks
381. Flamin' Hot Cheetos
382. Any woman who doesn't immediately think CREEPER MAN CREEPAZOID when they hear Herman Cain give his "I only told her she was the same height as my wife---and that was right about up to my chin" explanation.

Cooper Being Edie Sedgwick

"Be a dandy and pass me the eyeliner," he says, before hanging from the rafters in his bright white skintight bell bottoms.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

I am on the precipice of turning FIFTY and it is very important to me to honor and celebrate my aging spirit in ways that reflect grace and poise.  For example, I have been carrying a copy of Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman" with me and when I'm on my daily walks I find a little hill to stand atop where I can recite and/or act out passages sending my wisdom out to the universe (I've noticed that sometimes during these spontaneous readings people nearby will speed up their pace quite a bit or they will grab their children and run so I know my heart song is being heard) or I light a candle and sit on my front porch and simply allow myself to feel my approaching official geezerness.  Now I know this is all very positive stuff and things I know you would encourage me to do but I was wondering, besides avoiding wearing pastel colored leotards and pressuring my teenage nephew to listen to Earth Wind and Fire with me what else do you think I should put on my DON'T list as I embark upon my journey toward eyelid droop?
---Worked Up and Wheezing in Whittier

Dear Wheezing,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

As you may or may not know, I am a scientist and I spend my days studying things that other people do not have the wherewithal to study.  Like why Kathie Lee Gifford insists on baring her arms all the time and why the toilet paper that Trader Joe's sells is so unkind to my tushy.

My latest experiment was quite straightforward.  No control group.  No blind, double-blind.  No triple Lutz. No electric shock therapy.  It simply consisted of examining what happens to a deluded candy addict who purchases Halloween treats and, specifically, what kind of treats that candy addict buys and what that candy addict tells herself in order to justify her leap down the rabbit hole:

Oh I know what I'll do! I'll only buy candy that my household loves so no candy will go to waste!

WRONG.  This is what the sneaky candy addict is really thinking:

Oh Snickers Bar--- you nutty scrumptious piece of heaven---come live with me and be my love!

Alarming and horrifying?  Yes.  Brutally honest journalistic science?  Sort of.  Regardless---do not let this happen to you. 

You have the right to remain bloated,
Lieutenant Candy Corn
Junior Mint Division

Sunday Prayer

What I know about fear is that it wants you to think that things are small.  That there is nothing in the world that is larger than the miniscule anxious thoughts that crowd your brain.  That there is no reason to lift your gaze and look outward.  That people and things and places are all unsafe and, above all else, the only way to be is separate.

I know so much about fear and I know so much about anger.  I'm a student of rage and worry.  I've worked so hard to do a lifetime of unlearning and shed myself of the claustrophobic voice in my head that tries to convince me that I am terminally unique---far off and alone and not part of it. 

But after aaaaaaaall of my study---after all of my reframing and journaling and rigorous examining and therapatizing and owning and co-creating and responsibility taking---I've come to know that The Separate Angry Fearful Voice is a big piece of lying doodoo, so as I take my own hand and I place it to my own chin and I lift my face up in order to look out above and over the expansive, unending landscape my prayer for myself is that I continue to unravel my puzzle prison thoughts and that I am able to cultivate the remnants of bravery I know I've always had so that I can keep my heart open in those moments when I forget who I truly am.

Please do not raise your hand if you have a question,
Professor Problematic

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday, after we've suffered the terror of being ambushed by a five thousand pound possum on our bleary eyed first thing in the morning walk, all it takes to get us back in touch with our brave wolf heritage is a solid half hour snuggle belly scratch session before we're good as new, ready to take on any rodent, with the ones who love us by our side, keeping us safe.

Friday Conclusion

Recently, The Cupcakes had a high cholesterol scare which meant that we needed a Cupcakes vs Bad Cholesterol plan that involved replacing everything we love with everything we kind of hate.

We're getting along quite well I suppose.  The days go by and the sun shines occasionally and we go out and see other people with their coats on.  We smile every now and again as we trudge to Ralphs to purchase our Weight Watcher Giant Latte Bars made of air we dream about cheese.  Sometimes we remember what it was like to use half and half in our coffee and this makes us laugh and/or weep.  In the evening, we cuddle up and we remember what it was like to down an entire thing of Trader Joe's peanut butter cups over the course of several episodes of Treasure Quest and we clutch our micro fleece blankets close to our chests as we drink our tea and sip our Blood Orange soda from Cost Plus and in the quietest moments we each, in our own way, come to the clear and simple conclusion that:

LIFE WITHOUT HAAGEN DAZS AND BEN & JERRY'S AIN'T NO LIFE AT ALL.

Do not go gently into that dark night,
Franny FroYo

Things I Don't Understand, Items 377 thru 379

377. Johnny Depp's accent
378. How quickly the extra pillow case drawer can turn on you
379. Why grocery stores don't have full time consultants in the toothpaste section

Cooper Being Maria Bello in Prime Suspect

Here he confronts a perp who made the grave mistake of asking him where Helen Mirren went.

"I GOT BAAAAAALLS BUDDY!  AND I GOT A FEDORA," he says, with testicle-serious authority.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

I recently received an email from "Hummingbird Vine" that said Turn Your Backyard Into a Hummingbird Playground! and I wasn't sure if this was an invitation or a threat.  Now, I know I am risking my life by telling you this but I do not like hummingbirds.  I find them strange and annoying.  Maybe they remind me of my own unsettled soul, who knows, I don't really care at this point---what I want to know is do you think this shoddy set up "Hummingbird Vine" means business and my family and I should pack up and move or should we just accept our fate and get busy installing teensy four inch high swings and miniature monkey bars, jungle gyms and drinking fountains in our storage space?
---Gassy From Worry in Warsaw

Dear Gassy,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

                           

ALL POINTS BULLETIN:

BE ON THE LOOKOUT for a 1980 copper LeSabre driving approximately 12 miles an hour with the license plate:  IMUNEEK.

THIS VEHICLE IS RAGE INCITING AND DANGEROUS AND CONTAINS A POODLE SITTING IN THE FRONT SEAT THAT RESEMBLES SUSAN ANTON WHO WE BELIEVE TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR SEVERAL DOZEN CRIMES IN THE NORTHERN HEMISPHERE.

DO NOT--- REPEAT--- DO NOT, under any circumstances attempt to approach, interact with or pass this vehicle.  Do not make eye contact with the poodle.  Do not do a little friendly tap on your horn after the eighty seven millionth mile at wounded turtle speed.  Do not try to intimidate the passive aggressive elderly woman driver by glaring at her in her rearview mirror to show her you've finally snapped and now you mean business so she better say goodbye to her kneecaps. 

IF YOU SEE THIS VEHICLE, IMMEDIATELY PULL OVER TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, CALL 911 AND WAIT FOR A MARTINI. 

Yours In Utter Torment,
The Unlikely Tailgater

Sunday Prayer

Dear Lord,

I know you think I bark too much and I have absolutely NO self control when it comes to cheese, rolling in worms and licking my own behind and that I act like a maladjusted water buffalo any time a fly comes within five hundred yards of me but if you could (I know this might not be possible because you have a lot on your plate for chrissakes) would you kindly make an effort to influence my pack mates with opposing thumbs to remember to hurl things for me whenever they aren't yelling at the television or complaining about how confusing their cell phone bill is praise be to your glory and of course it goes without saying that this is between us, amen.

Saturday SlobberLove

Oh Mappy.  You wise old paper compass.  You.  With your intoxicating wild squiggly lines and endless numbered highways and names of places we never knew existed and shades of loveliest green and blue and white.  The way you reveal yourself to me slowly like some sort of mystical shaman king and then at the last minute you REFUSE to be folded into proper shape.  So headstrong and stubborn.  That's just like you Mappy.  Always the one to be in control.  Even when I veer off course for two and a half panicked hours or so you are right there by my side in the passenger seat like a tour guide with no arms or legs waiting for me to glance over at you just as soon as I accept that I don't really know where the hell I am and that there is, indeed, a difference between North and South. Oh Mappy, we're a pair of crazy madcap travellers, you and I.  Exploring our environs like a pair of excited squirrels.  Going this way and going that way---sometimes fast like we're on some type of dangerous stimulant and sometimes frozen like a statue as if we've been hit by a stun gun.  We have so much fun together don't we Mappy? You would never say I know the exit we were supposed to take was way back there Jesus I told you!!! like some relatives I know and for that I will be your forever girl.

Yours In Wandering Wander,
Dixie Driver

Friday Conclusion

You can call yourself a Democrat or a Republican or a Tea Partier or a Socialist.

You can ignore crosswalks and sprint full force across a four lane highway or you can wait until that little green hand gives you the go ahead.

You can bury your nose in Danielle Steele and The Bible or you can peruse The Daily Beast until Real Time with Bill Maher comes on.

You can order a nice dry Pinot Grigio with dinner or you can down several gin martinis just as your appetizer arrives.

You can sleep in until noon or you can wake up before daybreak.

You can avoid eye contact or you can hold it.

Because no matter what you fancy or what you claim to be your heart's desire preference---we all know there is only one thing that truly matters:

YOU SIMPLY CANNOT DENY THE MIND BLOWING POWER OF FANTASTIC LIGHTING.

Talk to the candle,
Gertrude Glowberg

Things I Don't Understand, Items 374 thru 376

374. What motivates a man to make the no socks, loafers and sweatpants fashion choice
375. The Twilight Series
376. Celery smoothies

Cooper Being Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing

"Nobody puts Baby in the corner, except for everybody," he says, flashing a switchblade.

The Cupcake Lessons

Let me regale you with a little tale.  A story, if you will.  This tale is NOT about what it is, exactly, that motivates someone to say If you will ---that could be a whole other tale worth telling---no this tale, the one I am about to tell you, is about why we need each other in order to exist.

Don't put on your grouchy face now.  Just listen.

My sister (who I believe to be my guardian angel even though she is obsessed with Sour Gummy Worms) has a friend who is a psychologist.  A very cool, open, wise psychologist who I admire and she has a husband who is also a psychologist and whenever I see them I think They are the coolest psychologist couple, I bet they have it all together.  I bet they don't call each other names when one of them forgets to close the fucking freezer.

So one time I call my sister and she is on the other line with The Wise Psychologist and my sister tells me that she has to talk to The Wise Psychologist because she is having a fight with her Wise Psychologist husband.

I cannot believe that these two dreamy people ever fight, I think from my lowly perch.

Shortly after my sister hangs up with PhD, she calls me back and says that PhD is having a Hater Fest about her husband and that PhD had said to my sister:

YOU KNOW I THINK HE'S THE WEIRDEST PERSON I'VE EVER KNOWN.

And I would only tell you this:  I felt slightly GLEEFUL.  I felt happy and relieved.  I felt like it was possible that I was not the only person who thought my husband was the weirdest person in all the galaxies on certain days. Maybe I am not so severely abnormal.  Phew.

And so the other evening, as I settled into my bucolic room at a Bed and Breakfast outside of Yosemite and I waited for Mister Cupcake and his dear friend to meet me at the end of their two day trek across the John Muir Trail----as I sat there and I listened to the lovely couple I'd seen earlier check in to the room next to mine and I listened to them GO AT EACH OTHER IN AN EPIC FIGHT ABOUT WHERE TO GO TO DINNER like a coupla dehydrated coyotes I realized that even though we don't always realize it---or let me speak for my own self---even though I don't always realize it: I am bound and beholden to all the people who I do not know who seem to be just about as intermittently confused and furious and surly as me.  And this is what keeps me going when I feel like a hopeless loser. Because if I am, in all reality, a nit picky controlling worrier, at least I know I am not alone.

Bravisima Los Discontentos!
Inez the Interloper

Cooper Being a Bicycle Helmet

"I am 100% aerodynamic---fueled only by expensive kibble, tender kisses on my clammy snout and small amounts of cottage cheese," he says, prior to vvvvrrrroooooming up Mount Kilimanjaro.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

This evening when my husband and I realized there was YET ANOTHER Republican debate happening we said to each other "How many more fucking Republican debates can there be?" and I have to tell you that, honestly, we could not answer this question.  So we wanted to write to you and ask you if you know if there will ever be a time when there will NOT be a Republican Sass Off happening OR if you think that these Nutter Butter wealthy candidates will burrow into our ears and stage their fake real talk sessions about how juvenile the black man in the White House is forever and ever?
---Vomiting In Vermont

Dear Vomiting,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

You can tell me that you think you're all romantic and shit and plan a glowy dinner for your husband where you stand at the stove wrapped in Post-It notes with roses coming out of your butt and I will tell you that before you can say It's okay you don't have to pick up your clothes, ever, darling you're gonna find yourself in the middle of an onion field looking straight into the barrel of a Somewhere In Time poster answering to THE Goddess of Romance herself Jane Seymour because she is gonna kick your sultry impostor ass.

Now get on back to work,
Lieutenant Lusty Lustberg
Blow Job Division

Sunday Prayer

Oh blessed be unto thee irresistible Nautical Blue Roundy Toy, as we bow down and praise you and think upon the magical CRA-ZAY-ZEE DROOLY GROWLY FUN you bestow upon our daily lives may you rise up and look upon those who hurl you across rooms for us and would that you could tap those lovable turd buckets on the heads and remind them how important it is to have Throw-Catch-Throw-Catch-Throw-Catch-Throw-Catch-Throw-Catch snuggle time praise be to all that is holy amen hallelujah.

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday we think for one minute that even though we like listening to Prairie Home Companion for up to three times over the weekend and even though we feel like we are so full up with sadness and grief and wistful worrying that we should just go crawl into a cave like that little revolting guy from Lord of the Rings and even though we have logged so many hours in therapy that we wish for there to be an Hours Logged In Therapy Olympics just so we can win a gold medal and even though we secretly long for things to have been different with our meanie of a mother and we fear we will still be thinking this when we are a 90 year old and even though we think we are stronger than anyone knows and this is our secret and even though we have a hard time so much of the time and even though we wish we could listen to the soundtrack from Gigi and have a singalong with our neighbors and even though strangers who smile at us scare us and even though as we fall asleep sometimes we wonder if this is what it's like to fall away into death and we think we are too morose for the general public and even though we think we should be arrested or at the very least fined for how long our sentences are and even though the thoughts we tell ourselves are just so unreasonably cruel to ourselves---we still forgive our own scraggly, confused behavior because we truly feel that we try SO HARD and in our deepest heart we know this is all that matters.

Yours In Thought Exhaustion,
Angsty Angsterson

Things I Don't Understand, Items 371 thru 373

371. Women who say "I have to go tinkle"
372. Senor Frogs
373. When your seat belt pulls that You Are Trapped bullshit

Cooper Being Jeff Bridges in True Grit

"Fill your hands, you son's uh bitches," he says, in between substantial, slightly masterful swigs of scotch.

Monday Judgements and Warnings

Tips For Ordering the Dish Poo Krob With Your Thai Delivery Order: 

(from my groundbreaking workshop Be Better!---Be Anyone Other Than Who You Are!)

1.  Fast Talker Technique:  Say it fast as a locomotive: "prkb"---so it's like you hardly said it but you said it enough that the person taking your order could understand.  This works well if you're doing laundry and there is a loud dryer going in the background.
2.  Second Rate Celebrity/Journalist Conundrum Technique:  Say it while you're staring at a photo of Stone Phillips or some other odd, confusing celebrity/journalist.  This will keep you distracted enough that you forget that you're ordering Poo.
3.  The Holler:  Yell it at the top of your lungs while you're jumping up and down and out of breath:  "POO KROB!" This is just really effective because there is so much going on and the startley loud thing is a keeper.
4.   Stupid Xenophobe Technique:  Go "Do you have Paw Krawb?" and then wait for the order taker to do the rest of the work.  Magic and effortless.

Good luck with these.  I have found #2 and #4 to be the most effective however you should experiment with what feels right for your personality. The important thing is to make them your own!  If none of them work, though, don't come to me for a refund or a credit of any kind whatsoever because I will not be able to tell if you implemented the technique correctly or if you did The Holler loud enough or whatever.  Just know this: you're on your own and you will be held responsible and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for any of those extra mini creamer things you stole.

Now Go Get 'Em!
Coach Crazyface

Sunday Prayer

Oh Heavenly Creator if you could take just a moment or two and make sure the wayward democrats I live with pay attention to the importance of  Devotional Sharkey Throw Time I would be eternally grateful and be in service to you forever and by the way the democrats don't regularly recycle and if anyone asks we never spoke about this if you know what I mean it'll be our little secret praise be how great thou art---amen.

Things I Don't Understand, Items 368 thru 370

368. Sticky-hideous price tags that stick to your finger like a grudge holding anaconda
369. Everything about the world of Roller Derby
370. Cork

Cooper Being Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina

Here, the sinewy starlet is seen relaxing in between takes with the infamously grumpy Humphrey Bogart.

"He was just steamingly furious that the circumference of his bulbous alcoholic nose was larger than my teensy elegant waist," he says, sweetly.

The Cupcake Lessons

As you may or may not be aware I am a very hard working and well respected scientist and, for YEARS, I have been at work in my special  Berber carpeted laboratory attempting to decipher ALL OF IT. 

What do you mean by "all of it", you ask.

ALL. OF. IT.  Like---the whole shebang.  The whole kit and caboodle---including what "kit and caboodle" means, I say.

My latest findings have to do with my ongoing research on What NOT To Think About If You Are Awake At the 4 A.M. Awful Thoughts Hour and I, after several round table discussions with my assistants who wear special underwear, am ready to reveal the following about things you should NOT think about if you wake up at 4 A.M. alone and mildly frightened:

1. Chris Christie's tummy
2. Mold and how IT IS A SILENT KILLER
3. How sometimes you see a homeless person and you think that person is your old boyfriend
4. Where the universe ends and if it ends what is after that??, like is it a wall and then there is more universe or is it just unending and if it is unending where does it go is there some spot where there is nothingness and if so what is there does it go on and on and on forever and if so how far does it go is it all dark at the end or is there a little shelf at the end of existence or is it a cupboard?...???...!...?
5. Hornets
6. Dyan Cannon's face

Go forth and burrow,
Candace Constipated

Monday Judgements and Warnings

RED ALERT: If you wake up in the morning and you feel a little stuffy, a little groggy, a little hazy and you venture out into your neighborhood hoping to keep your disheveled self all invisible---it will be on such a morning that there will be little old ladies lurking around every corner and hiding in every bush just waiting to pounce on you and talk your ear off about Spanx, the handsomeness of Rick Perry and the new musical Shrek.

No one said it was gonna be easy,
Bessie Bleary Eyed

Sunday Prayer

Oh holy father who art in heaven could you make a teensy shmeensy effort (for chrissakes we know you're Michelle Bachman's hair stylist busy) to make sure that IF! there is any barbecuing that smells more aromatic than a cocker spaniel's behind in the upcoming week that the ones who do the barbecue smell fest will show a little brutha some love and throw a little brutha a piece o' chicken now and again praise be hallowed be thy name.

Thank you in advance for your generosity,
King Drippy Chops

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday we pause for a moment and we feel just the slightest bit of regret or remorse or reluctance about who we are and how we've been and we promise ourselves we'll try harder.  We're not sure why we feel this way. Maybe there's something about the color of the air in September that makes us remember all the work we've done on our muted large heart and how, regardless of all this hard work, there still seems to be so much more left to do. 

We only know that we want to be good.

So as Autumn overtakes us and we feel heavier during our afternoons we decide that we won't let our Inner Worrier overtake us and we make a promise to ourselves that we will loosen our sharp harsh grasp and we'll give everyone else we come in contact with a break and we'll wrap the Fall around us like a blanket and know in our hearts that although, if we had our druthers, we'd choose the cold, crisp solitary cave of Winter we're making the largest effort to choose the wide open expanse of unhibernation and in this way we'll be able to look back on things and know we did all we could to rail against our hollow false longing to be alone.

Yours In Colorful Foliage,
Sappy Sapperstein

Things I Don't Understand, Items 365 thru 367

365. How people are able to take professional looking portraits of themselves with twenty other people using the stretch arm technique
366. Why cilantro is so divisive
367. Sweatpants that have words written in big white block letters across the butt

Cooper Being Faye Dunaway in Eyes of Laura Mars

"Tommy Lee---is that you?" he shouts in a tone that sounds smolderingly glamorous and pee your pants terrified all at the same time.

The Cupcake Lessons

Things That Look More Like a Turtle Than Senator Mitch McConnell:

1.  a turtle
2.  a porcelain turtle wearing a little plaid hat at a Disneyland gift shop
3.  the title character from the Franklin the Turtle comic books
4.  a reclining turtle drinking a margarita on a chef's apron that showcases grilling seafood
5.  Crush, the Sea Turtle, from Finding Nemo

Monday Judgements and Warnings

Shhhhhhh.  I'm trying to talk in a whisper.  Don't look at me.  Pretend like you're looking over there somewhere and not listening to me because we are both in grave danger.

Do not react or shiver or furrow your brow or scream as you listen to what I am about to tell you.  Just act normal.  No actually just act calm and blase as if you are waiting for a parking spot at Trader Joe's---scratch that --- just look bland, like you're waiting for your oatmeal to cook or like you're watching golf.

Ok, what you need to know is #1---Leann Rimes' husband, Eddie Cibrian is starring in a show about The Playboy Club that debuts tonight and #2---word on the street is that skinny bones jones Leann is so suspicious of Eddie because she met him on the set of a T.V. movie while he was still married --- DO NOT LOOK AT ME WE COULD BE KILLED! --- she's so jealous and paranoid about him looking at other gals like he looked at her while he was betrothed to another that she will use laser night vision to see you sitting on your couch watching him on his show and if you look at him too long she will propel herself by wrapping her pony tail around her stripper pole and become a human tether ball and shoot herself through the night sky and come bursting through your windows so she can beat you unconscious with her sharp and frightening knees and worrisomely dangerous cheetah teeth.  So if you watch the show DO NOT LOOK AT EDDIE or if you do look at Eddie LOOK AT HIM AS IF YOU ARE LOOKING AT YOUR GRANDMA.

Keep your hands in clear view at all times ladies,
Commander Cassie Cower

Sunday Prayer

Dear Lord On High or something,

Even though I secretly hate Goldie Hawn and I think that anyone who doesn't like artichokes dipped in lemon butter is a weirdo and I often hiss and spit at the people who order half-cap-non-fat-un-lard-double-foam-grande-triple-axle-frizz-ease lattes at Starbucks and I am an elitist when it comes to 100% cotton socks and underwear, I hope I get points for being a dedicated and enthusiastic collager praise be to all that is holy you may now sit amen.

Yours In Scissor Worship,
Sister Clip and Trim of the Cross

Cooper Being a Customer Waiting For Help At the Computer Hellhole Called PC Mall

"I can't hear you. I'm deaf with rage," he emotes through his lifeless, marble eyes.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

This afternoon I heard a report on NPR about how expensive the cost of oil is and became quite blue, per usual, but then I was relieved to hear that, come Autumn, there is going to be a type of gas called The Winter Blend that will be much cheaper and, needless to say, I have a buttload of questions about this Winter Blend so I thought I'd write to you to see if you knew---Will it be available at Starbucks and, if so, will it have cloves, nutmeg or banana bread in it? And also, will the people who mix The Winter Blend be mixing it in that cabin where they filmed the final scenes for The Bodyguard? And lastly, in your best estimation, do you think Santa's elves will be involved at all and will this create any big scheduling problems with Christmas and overtime and what not? 
---Undulating About Unleaded in Ukiah

Dear Unleaded,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Things I Don't Understand, Items 362 thru 364

362. Ronald Reagan
363. Foosball
364. Portobello mushrooms used as hamburger buns

Cooper Being Matt Dillon in Drugstore Cowboy

In this scene, he belligerently tries to cuddle with an on set teamster he mistakenly believes is Kelly Lynch.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

Most every day, when I wake up in the morning, I tell myself NO FUCKING SUGAR! But then as the day goes on there is a little voice in my head that starts to browbeat me about the fact that I'm not eating sugar and it says things like CAN-DY! CAN-DY! CAN-DY! or If we do not consume a Peppermint Patty within 3.5 minutes our elbows will explode. Now, my question to you is---do you think the voice I'm hearing is the devil and I need to get all geared up for battle or should I just give up and take advantage of the 3 for the price of 1 Haagen Dazs deal at Ralphs?
---Having a Heart Attack in Helsinki

Dear Attack,
No.
Good luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

Hi.  I'm a Tupperware Lid and here is my To-Do List:

1.  Wake up and change positions; find the nearest corner to get wedged in
2.  Attend Top Five Thousand Habits Of Highly Annoying Things workshop in the spice drawer
3.  Find and make amends with the magenta Ziploc top I called a two bit whore
4.  Work on shape shifting in preparation for any dumb, pie in the sky attempts at organization (practice resistance posture!)
5.  Finish final draft of memoir, Lids Who Run With the Wolves: Reclaiming Joy Inside a Drawer

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday, to celebrate the change of season we feel just slightly in our nostrils, we gather our most beloved toys around us and we have special paw time with them and we gnaw and sniff and drool and nibble and just when we think it cannot get any better, one of the special two armed ones comes over to us and asks us if we want to play.  And we think we might be dreaming.

Holy Hallelujah,
Mister Happy Hound

Friday Conclusion

This afternoon I was driving in a crowded part of Los Angeles talking on my cell phone.  I usually NEVER talk on my cell phone while I drive because I loathe people who talk on their cell phone when they drive or text and drive or read and drive or knit and drive. 

Just drive when you drive.  That's my motto.

But I made an exception today because I was listening to my best friend describe the details of a dream she had that involved a message she believed she received from my dead father and just as she was telling me that she knew in her soul it was not a bunch of hogwash because he was wearing his old Birkenstocks in the dream and I was about as riveted and misty as I could get a parakeet yellow mustang pulled up right beside me and a woman with fried blond hair and really big saggy boobs was hanging out the passenger side window screaming at me to HANG UP THE FUCKING PHONE! like she was one of those scary baboons and her frothing at the mouth cohort in the driver's seat was just as furious at me because they both started flipping me off and yelling about what a LOSER I was and just as their angry voices reached a crescendo of fury they revved their engine and screeched off leaving me in the dust, both their hands waving out the windows---him giving me the finger and her making a fist and I thought I wonder what they do when they see someone picking their nose and I felt really bad because although I'd never exhibited the Hell's Angel's behavior of these two unpredictable Enforcers I knew where they were coming from, the poor dears.  Which brings me to my point and my conclusion:

THERE ARE TIMES IN LIFE WHEN IT IS SIMPLY REFRESHING TO SEE THAT THERE ARE INDEED OTHER HUMAN BEINGS WHO ARE CAPABLE OF BLOWING THEIR GASKETS MORE EXPLOSIVELY AND RIDICULOUSLY THAN YOU

Peace out,
Beatrice Better

Things I Don't Understand, Items 359 thru 361

359. Gingko biloba
360. Outdoor carpeting
361. How quickly Post-it notes can create a junkyard look and feel

Cooper Being Linda Blair in The Exorcist

Shortly before being possessed by the devil he suffers his greatest torment when Ellen Burstyn tells him that, later in life, he will marry Rick James.

Tuesday Expert Advice

Dear Cupcake,

Last week, for approximately four hours, the world was under the impression that Will Smith and Jada Pinkett-Smith were getting a divorce.  They were, as my sister and niece and I were saying as we celebrated with an impromptu Starbucks Iced Coffee Party:  SPLITSVILLE!---but just as we were about to order a couple of celebratory orange and cranberry scones along with two or five madeleines coupled with half a dozen or so chocolate covered graham crackers we heard that it was all a big fat lie and were devastated to learn that Will and Jada and their revolting oversmiling starlet children were indeed TOGETHER STILL, TAKING OVER THE WORLD with their creepy expansive grins.  Now, what I want to know is do you think there is still a chance that there was a small grain of truth to the split story or do you think that the Pinkett-Smiths will remain alive as a unit forever making awful music and movies and television shows until the rest of us are all dead?
---Debilitated From Disappointment In Delaware

Dear Disappointment,
No.
Good Luck,
Cupcake

Monday Judgements and Warnings

You may or may not agree with what I'm about to say.  I am aware that we all need to save face and we need to appear to be loving, kind people who do not stoop to sub-human levels.  We do not judge.  We do not hate.  We do not sometimes go "WATCH OUT!"  when we see Gayle King's butt.

And we do not make snap judgements about our neighbors, right?

Let the chips fall where they may because I am here to tell you that, regardless of your warm demeanor and your nice, friendly smile and never mind how you seem to be sweetly concerned with our other weird neighbor's cat.  When I pass you on the street and I engage in lovely conversation with you about how we both do not think it proper to have a president or presidential candidate who wears cowboy boots---regardless of all this---the ONLY THING I can think of when I see your bright and shiny face is that one time when I overheard you talking to your husband about how much you loved the haircut on the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls.

Back to the drawing board,
Clara of the Closed Minded

Things I Don't Understand, Items 356 thru 358

356. Corn rows on white people
357. Pink Floyd
358. Ball peen hammers

Cooper Being Marilyn Monroe

It was this sultry photo, The Belly That Launched a Thousand Ships, that captivated a nation and launched a sex pot's career---the likes of which the world had never seen.

Things I Like More Than Rick Perry

1. Clorox smoothies
2. Stepping in fresh dog poop shortly before a job interview
3. Being harpooned by a ship of angry fishermen
4. Tarantulas up my nose
5. Co-parenting with Andy Dick

Monday Judgements and Warnings

I am fully aware that I may have trust issues but I would wager a guess that I am not the only person in the galaxy that is worried beyond all get out that Rihanna and her giant vagina is going to seek my innocent family out and devour us as we lay in our bed trying to figure out if we love or hate the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Thank you but no,
Sir and Madam Scaredy

Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday, we wonder how we got to where we are and we think to ourselves It must be some kind of odd dream that we've found ourselves in a state of matrimony. 

Living and sharing and dividing and compromising and seething and sighing and smiling and loathing and waiting and hoping and pleasing and frowning and planning and hating and loving and relenting.

And we know that there will be days like today when we have little voices inside our bellies that whisper about how organized our bathroom drawers used to be and how if we wanted to watch reruns of  Dr. Phil for an entire afternoon that there would not be anyone to answer to and we think about Betty Friedan and we wonder if it has all been in vain.

And then we see that photograph of you.  The one that makes our heart rumble in our chest.  It is that photograph that isn't particularly special in any way---the way it looks---the lighting, the setting.  If a stranger saw it they would not be struck by any meaning or beauty or profundity. Except there is something about this particular photo that captures the essence of you and how you are.  The way you are standing there---eager, happy and stock still---looking directly in the camera, holding The Boy's leash.  The way you are looking at me, waiting for me to figure out how to work the camera.  The way you would have stood there forever waiting for me---being patient and strong.

And it is this --- this seeing of the photo and the remembering --- the day, the weather, the adventure we'd been on--- that erases all the piddly lip curliness and the air gets lighter and we take in a deep breath and we gather our senses about us and we say to ourselves We wouldn't trade this life for the world and we trot ourselves downstairs just in time to get dinner started before the sun starts to go down.

Yours In Snarly Eyed Wonder,
Wanda Wiferstein