December 30, 2009


Every year, every goddamn year, I make A LIST. Sometimes it's just in my head. Other times it's on paper. But every year, the list IS MADE. Every year I resolve to do more, do less, be something. Well, I wish I could say that this year "the list" can suck it and I'm going to spend 2010 being exactly as I am... But alas, I can't... Because if there was any year that needs to be put to rest, tweaked, and given a complete overhaul, it is 2009. Yep. See ya bitches. Here's what I'm doing in 2010:

1) Hitting Less Curbs. I personally think I'm a fine driver. But my OCD about parking too parallel/close to the curb can be damaging and annoying to those driving with me. Also, tires are expensive.

2) Social Media(ish). This year I'm going to Tweet more and Facebook (stalk) less.

3) Stop Shhh-ing. I have a tendency to tell people they're talking too loud. I actually think I have like weird hearing issues (see #4), but in general, I realize my shh-ing habit is annoying. So in 2010, talk as loud as you want people. I won't stop you... For now.

4) Pop Pills. I've spent the majority of my adult life teetering on serious hypochondria. But I've really started to loosen up and trust that in general, for example, mixing Advil and a glass of wine is totally fine (yes, I have doubts about this). But this year, I'm going to stop fixating on silly things and trust that I am a healthy woman...

5) Drink more. Water, that is. I need to drink more water. Period.

6) Exercise. This one is so boring and so unoriginal. But goddamnit, this year I need to exercise and not pretend that pushing Baby-Ko up and down the block on his tricycle counts as cardiovascular activity.

7) Tell more stories. I'm thrilled to be working at Parents Ask and writing for a living. But that's not enough. I need to write at least three times a week on Perfectly Disheveled and AND finish (well, first I need to start) my book proposal. I mean, sitting across from Barbara Walters isn't going to happen magically...

8) Parent better. Today I compiled a list for Parents Ask of all the Best Parenting Books of the decade. This year, I will read (and not just at Barnes and Noble before a movie) some of these books... I might even take all the info that Wacky has bestowed on me and use it. Maybe.

9) That's a Crock of... I got a crock pot for Hannukah and this year, I am determined to use it once a week (okay, once a month is just as admirable). So, if you have great crock pot recipes send them my way... Or send me your unwanted gift cards to various restaurants. Take out is just as appreciated.

10) Shag. Get your mind out of the gutter, people. Recently, I got a fabulous shag rug from CB2 but it sheds like a mo' fo'. Seriously, when I leave the house, it looks like I've been living with a den of polar bears. It's crazy. So this year, I need to de-lint more (and that includes Baby-Ko). Seriously.

Obviously, I could keep going with the list... Do more Laughing, hugging, singing, and dancing... Do less arguing, complaining, procrastinating, and worrying, etc... But I think this is a good (written) start... And a good way to say goodbye to 2009.

Happy New Year.
See you in 2010.

December 21, 2009


Okay, so I'm back(ish). While the details are still being ironed out, I am happy to announce that I am once again EMPLOYED. (I would say that I'm "gainfully employed" but as you know, I sometimes use words incorrectly, so I'll just stick to the basics just in case that's not actually what I am).

I am now writing for a fantastic website called With so many people in and out for the holidays, it's an awkward time to be starting a job. But on the plus side, it means more caramel popcorn out of a giant tin for me. (BTW, ever try caramel corn and cheese corn in the same bite? It's a salty sweet little orgasm in your mouth I tell ya). Speaking of of salty/sweet, on Monday I wrote a post about what I think is a tacky trend: tweeting about death. Check out MY POST.... Do you agree?

In the meantime, guess who's looking Perfectly Disheveled in this picture?

Nope. Not Jessica. She's flawless. Um, that blurry little purple blob in the background...? Yep. You got it! Yours truly. Ahh, just another day out and about in sunny LA... To read more about why this made me jealous of Jessica Alba (and not just because she just waltzed right in to Nate N Als and got a table without having to wait), click HERE.

P.S. One day 'til Xmas. Have you been naughty or nice?

December 10, 2009


When I started writing this blog, I promised myself I wouldn't hold back. I would say what was on my mind (kind of) and speak the truth (sometimes). I promised myself that no matter how lame a thought might be, and how isolated I may be in my view point, that I would still say it. I would write for myself and not for "the people."

"You should at least use spell check," my Mom would say. "And at least use proper grammar..."
"What's wrong with my grammar?"
"....And you shouldn't say words like 'vagina.' "
"Okay, Mom."
"....Or 'dude.' I hate 'dude....'"
OMG, dude. I get it. Why does mom gotta bug like that, yo.

The truth is though, my mom kind of has a point. Sure, I can write. But I don't always write RIGHT. Believe me. I know. In high school, I was the only one in AP English who needed/used cliff notes. While everyone used the class to ensure (or is it "assure"?) a head start in college, I used it as an opportunity to get some action from the nerdy boys. I was definitely the dumbest smart kid in the class and was perfectly fine with that stature.

But these days, I'm not perfectly "fine." I'm perfectly disheveled and my attention to details, words, and unfortunately wit, isn't exactly, well... perfect. In fact, some of you have even noticed.... A couple weeks ago, I got an email from a friend/reader who said that she was so sorry to mention it, but that after reading the ode to my bangs, she had to tell me about a slight mistake. The sentence in my post read:
And though I never EVER strayed (with the exception of a very long/side swept
thing I tried right after college), for all intensive purposes, I have always been loyal...

Embarrassed and thankful for having readers that have a better grasp on the English language than I, I changed it immediately. Apparently, for 33 years I have been saying "intensive purposes" when in fact I should be saying "INTENTS AND PURPOSES." Who knew?!

"What?!" said my friend J, "Of course it's 'intents and purposes'. Everyone knows that."
"No," said his very educated and professional wife A, "I thought it was 'intense and purposes.'"
"Yeah," said his sister T (a 5th grade teacher with a masters in education), "I agree with J-Ko. I thought it was 'intensive purposes' too. I've been saying it wrong this whole time too?!"
"How is that there is a room full of sophisticated and intelligent women (with great butts I might add), saying something that seems so obvious, so ridiculously wrong?"
"Frightening," said T, "I'm shaping our youth."
"Shocking," said A, "I feel like I should know that."
"Embarrassing," I said, "I am a WRI-TER.... And this by the way, this is definitely going to be a blog post."
Without missing a beat, J chimed back in, "You want me to proof that before you post it??"
Ha. Ha.

The truth is though, I think I say a lot of things wrong. We all do. Not that I'm trying to pass the buck (or is it "dodge a bullet"?), but one of my very best friends, a Psychology Professor (a PROFESSOR people), says "irregardless." I think she knows "irregardless" is not a word, but she says it anyway, claiming that it souuuuuuunds like a word. Unfortunately, there is no such word. In fact, if you look up the definition of "Irregardless" on Merriam-Webster Online, they suggest not using it. "Use 'regardless' instead."

Even Wikipedia has a list of commonly misused English Words.... And I know the fact that we are all a little dumb (sometimes) doesn't excuse my misuse, but it should at least make me relatable to "the people...." And while I've never been fully sure of when/how to use "affect" or"effect," I can ASSURE you that being a little dumb is better than being a little lame.

So please, feel free to proof read, comment and share your thoughts on my writing.... I may resent your remark, but at least, AT LEAST, I would never "resemble that remark." Because that, THAT would definitely be a little dumb....

December 8, 2009


Over the weekend I saw Up in The Air, a film that centers on the recent economic plunge this country has taken. Plot-wise, while I've been going back and forth in my mind whether or not I loved it, there is one thing I'm certain of: HOT-wise, George Clooney is still very much number 1 on my list. Having said that (hello Larry David), no amount of his perfectly salt and peppered hair could have taken the depression away that lingered from watching his character Ryan and his company lay off thousands of people from their jobs each day....

Considering that I too am currently unemployed (i.e. devoid of a "real" job and "real" work and certainly devoid of the income that comes along with those "real" things), I felt the fear during those scenes. Not knowing where my next check is going to come from has definitely made me feel a little sorry for myself... If I don't have a "real" paying job, and don't get paid for what I love to do (write!) then how do I measure my success?

Today I literally called three different retailers nearby to see if they needed extra help during the holidays with gift wrapping (they're not hiring. Go figure). But, I mean... Really?! That's what it's come to? Gift wrapping?! Like in the stock room with the teenagers picking up extra money during Winter Break?! (BTW, you can thank the job I had at Williams Sonoma during high school doing the exact same thing for my appreciation of copper cookware. Nerd.) The point is, What's next?? Becoming a cashier at Hot Dog on a Stick??? I mean, my life seems to be working in reverse and I feel like with each and every day (that I don't get "the job") I lose the ability to go after what I really want... Will I ever have "the job"? Will I ever do something worthy? Something good? Something that gets on the map? Something that puts me across from Barbara Goddamn Walters?!?!?

(Not so) Ironically, it is my 2 year old who continues to talk me off the ledge and calm my fears. This morning, chasing him down the block as he stomped and crunched leaves in his big boy rain boots, he came to a complete halt. Turning the corner, was what seemed like the most massive garbage truck I have ever seen.
"Whoah, Baby-Ko. Look at the garbage truck!" I said.
His eyes lit up.
Slowly, the Garbage Truck drove up the block towards us.
Baby-Ko started to wave. "Hiiii Garbage Truck! Hiiii!"
As it pulled up along side of us, the window rolled down: Two Garbage Men with the biggest smiles you've ever seen leaned in and waved back. "Hiiii!" They said as they honked their horn.
"Byeee Garbage Man!!" Baby-Ko shouted back and sort of leaped in delight, "Byeee!"

My heart was warmed and in that moment I knew that it doesn't matter who I become.... That no matter where I end up, what I end up doing, and whether or not it's where I thought I would be, somehow in some way, I will (hopefully) put a smile on someone's face....

I just hope it's not bagging groceries at Trader Joe's. Because between the Ginger Snaps and Pita Chips, I could get very fat working there very easily...

December 4, 2009


Yesterday, as I sat in a pediatric dentists' waiting room, watching Baby-Ko play with toys that had inevitably been contaminated by swine flu and every other contagious disease, a weird thing happened: I felt bad for Britney Spears. Though this feeling was probably brought on by a lack of caffeine and the outdated tabloid magazines lining the walls, it was an odd thought that came over me. (BTW, Doctors: would it kill you to rotate in some US Weekly's from the new millennium?I know Ben Affleck and J-Lo broke up. Please.) I remembered the gossip and stories that emerged when Brit started to go nutso and the accusations claiming that she wasn't a fit mom-- that her sons Jada and Presley (or whatever the eff their names are) at like age 2 had rotting teeth, and that she let them eat Cheetos and Coke.... I remember, at the time, (long before my own world became all things Baby-Ko) thinking she was a train wreck and those poor children with their cavity filled mouths. How could she be so negligent when it comes to their oral hygiene? What kind of a mother doesn't enforce tooth brushing and allows snacks right before bed?!


So here I was, about to take Baby-Ko in for his first dentist appointment and all I could think was 'thank god I'm not a celebrity.' Thank god no one will leak to the press that Baby-Ko's toothbrush went missing for a week and no one seemed to really miss it... or that the last thing in his mouth before bed time is Cheerios (better than Cheetos, I guess???)... or that if society didn't judge him (and me really), I probably would let him have a pacifier until he's 16 (he likes it. I want to give him the world. Is that so wrong??)

Forty-five, angst-filled, and sweaty minutes later (ever try holding a two year old down as a woman with teeth that, honestly, are a little too perfect tells said two year old that she "just needs to get rid of the SUGAR BUGS?!" Fuck the gym. Try that!), I, I mean Baby-Ko, emerged with a clean bill of health and what appears to be perfectly fine teeth. Despite the fact that I break nearly every dentistry rule in the book, Baby-Ko may stand a shot at having a decent future... orally speaking, that is.

Now equipped with a toothbrush shaped like a penguin and watermelon toothpaste imported from Japan that cost me more than my defrizz (Again, these bangs don't just straighten themselves), I feel like I've been given another shot at Mommyhood. I dodged a bullet in that dentist's office-- What could have been a big slap on the wrist by the patient lady with too perfect teeth, turned in to a decent affirmation.... I'm not as bad as Britney. And while I realize I may be setting the bar kind of low by comparing myself to her, I think cutting myself some slack is better than becoming a psycho about this stuff. After all, in 33 years I've never had a cavity, braces, or a retainer (no matter how many times I showed up at the dentist with a paper clip in my mouth begging for one), so Baby-Ko might actually inherit some good goddamn teeth after all. If not, at least he'll have his pacifier and his two life partners (Blankie #1 and Blankie #2) to cover up his mouth when he gets embarrassed.... his first day of college...