THROWBACK THURSDAY: MY BROCCOLI BOY

Every now and again, I start feeling a little sentimental about how much I miss Jonah's baby and toddler years. Though age 6 is proving to be fantastic in a million ways,  there are moments, like this morning, when I wish I could go back in time... just for a little... The new words he'd use, the developments he'd make, the way he ate... I know this sounds silly, but when a 6 year old eats, let's be honest- it looks, well, like eating and usually just looks like a mess (on the floor). Eating is for survival at this point.  But when a 1, 2, or 3 year old eats... Well, to me it was like watching a rare bird (scratch that, I hate birds. What am I thinking?!)-- it was like watching a rare, baby tiger eat for the first time. It's fascinating, sweet, and produces some special moments that for whatever reason, stick with you forever. (For the record, I'm actually not one of those people that find it fascinating when animals eat. Like, at all. But since the majority of world does care, I used that analogy for them. I do what I can).

Since it's Throwback Thursday, and since I'm feeling particularly mushy this fine 43 degree - SoCal morning, I thought I'd share a clip I found from a few years ago. Jonah was about 3 1/2. Just before this video started, he was asking about how people swallow and to tell him about "Spit," which I explained was called "saliva."  As an expert on saliva, ahem, if you're a fellow parent, you'll find my answer to be quite comforting, if nothing else. And trust me, there's nothing else. I only know what I know people.

Anyway, enjoy and cherish the small moments. And eat your broccoli. xo, JB

WHAT IS PERFECTLY DISHEVELED ABOUT?

What post plastic perfection seeking looks like.

This past year, I've had the privilege of working with some incredible brands and partners on various campaigns. While a lot of my editorial content has been tied up in these various campaigns, this blog is still very much dedicated to telling candid stories, sharing ideas for DIY projects, fashion favorites, recipes, and more. By the end of the year, I plan to give this blog a complete face lift and makeover (if only under-eye cream worked that fast), which I'm super excited about and very much ready for.

When I speak with web designers and marketing teams, or am out and meet new people (or my family for the ninety thousandth time), I often find myself trying to come up with a log line that describes my blog in a nutshell. It's pretty easy to wrap it up in a nice presentable package from a business perspective. But the content and essence of my blog, ironically, is always more than a sentence.

It occurred to me this morning that what happened was ENTIRELY the heart of "Perfectly Disheveled:"

It was a typical rush of "get dressed, brush your teeth, where's my shoes, I can't wear dirty Lululemons to drop off again," kind of morning. After finishing packing Jonah's lunch, I "remembered" (and by remember I mean, I knew all along) how hard the school (and everyone else in the world) was trying to be "green." I "remembered" that they even give out coupons for prizes when children bring a lunch that is entirely trash free. SO, feeling completely guilty and not wanting my kid to be the "tsk, tsk, tsk"example of the day because of his lazy, rushed, asshole mom, I completely UNPACKED his lunch. I moved all items OUT of the bags and into the BPA-see-I-can-be-a-good-mom-too containers.

And then... (wait for it)... I THREW OUT the plastic bags.

Because they were dirty at that point. Duh.

Yes, folks, right there... that is what Perfectly Disheveled is about. A deliberate, unhealthy, and unbalanced pile of perfectionism that thrives on coffee, great manicures, a clean house with messy piles, and buckets of hummus for too many meals.

On that note, it's time to go make myself a smoothie that promises to make me thin, do work that will hopefully make me rich, and wash my hair that will hopefully not turn gray. Happy Friday.

SOLEIL MOON FRYE: HAPPY CHAOS!

In 1984, there was really only one person I wanted to be: Soleil Moon Frye. Between the world's coolest tree house, brightly colored socks and tapered jeans, and an adoring "dad" named Henry, Punky Brewster was every little girls' idol. When I was about 8, I did a little acting and did a commercial for the actual Punky Brewster doll (Click HERE to watch... and make fun of me). Who knew that 25 years later, I would meet Soleil and get to work with her on a web series dedicated to women and moms (Btw- SIDE note, do you think anyone in the 80's would have believed you if you said, "one day, there will be an 'intra-net.' And there, we will 'tweet' each other and search each other's names using a 'search engine' called 'goooooogle' and we will stalk old boyfriends and like each other's photos by being friends on a 'social networking site' that's not exactly a book, but it has a lot of faces....")

ANYWAY, I digress... SOLEIL. When we met on the set of Her Say, I was instantly impressed by her charm, spunk, and savviness-- especially with social media. Not only does this busy mom have 1.4 million twitter followers, but she's Target's Mommy Ambassador and now a budding author.

Her book HAPPY CHAOS: From Punky to Parenting and My Perfectly Imperfect Adventures in Between (on sale August 23, 2011) is a refreshing take on modern parenting that encourages moms to be themselves and to embrace the inevitable madness of raising kids and living a full life. Hello, relatable!

Soleil believes that "happy chaos" is a sign of a family operating at its best-- when parents accept that they'll make mistakes, there will be messes, tears and skinned knees. In fact, just the other night she tweeted that to get one of her daughters to bed, she had to bribe her with $5. Sounds like the morning I had involving "here's a lollipop, now please brush your teeth."

1) You're so busy, how did you find the time to write your book? Between kids, work, and marriage, did you have to stick to a schedule?

I'm so crazed during the day with the kids and juggling work, that my time to sit down and write ends up being the middle of the night. I'm lucky because I am often inspired at midnight :) hard part is living on 3 or 4 hours of sleep.

2) My motto in parenting has definitely become "Whatever works." What are some of the things you thought you'd never/always do (always organic, never TV etc) that went right out of the window the minute you had kids and life got a little crazier?

I always thought that I'd be this super laid back hippie mama and then when I had kids, I realized that we aren't always the parents we think we will be before we have children. Now I try to find the balance in everything so while I buy my kid's wooden natural toys, they also play with Barbies.

3) We've talked a lot about unplugging and how technology can get in the way of a relationship. How has technology affected your parenting? Do your daughters understand your connection and time spent on Twitter/ Facebook etc?

My girls are obsessed with technology. Jagger literally goes up to the Television and tries to move it as if it were an iPad. We try our best to balance so when we are having dinner or having quality time with our children we put away the devices.

4) Let's talk clothes. You're always so put together and cute. How much thought goes in to what you put on? Are your wardrobe decisions based on body, function, kids, work, etc?

I'm lucky if I walk out of the door without my clothes on inside out! If I ever have to get all dolled up, you can bet that on my way out the door in my tallest fanciest shoes, I will 100% hit the floor.

5) Okay, I saw recently that your number one crush in the '80's was "Jake" from 16 Candles (Once again, I knew that we had so much in common). But I'm dying to know, as a child/teen star yourself (in the 80's & 90's) were your walls also covered with Tiger Beat, Bop, Teen Beat etc.? Who were the boys that covered your walls?

I had head shots all over my wall. I was actually just looking at pictures of my room from that time period and I had a hot pink neon light and the walls were covered with everyone from Johnny Depp to James Dean. Lots of Boys. I was truly boy crazy.

Happy Chaos comes out August 23rd. Order your pre-sale copy today! CLICK HERE!

CAR-KHARMA-GEDDON

I don't know what it is, but I have the world's worst luck when it comes to cars. While I consider myself a fantastic driver (all of you that have driven with me, shut up), and frankly the most competent and skilled parallel parker you will ever meet (it's true, I could win medals), when it comes to... how do I say this delicately, damaging cars if you will, I suck. Let me take you through a little chronology of said luck:

1993. It all started when I got my driver's license (Aced it to be clear) and was given the lovely gift of borrowing my grandfather's 1980 Camaro. While there may have been many boys in high school that found this giant white tank to be cool, as a 16 year old in Beverly Hills, I can assure my girlfriends and I found it to be embarrassing and hideous. It was like a low riding jalopy and had AM only radio. Yah. Not cool. After spinning out in a major intersection just for turning left in the rain, I knew it was time for this beast to be returned to my grandfather and was happy to go back to having to call Shotgun.

1999. Luckily after high school I moved to New York and therefore didn't need a car, or frankly really drive a car. But when I moved back to Los Angeles and was ready for my first car-- my first adult lease, in my name and all, I settled into a nice little Ford Escort. Very first day, first hour really, of having my first adult car. I pulled away from the dealer. Decided I'm an adult, in my adult car and well, I'm gonna have a cigarette (I was fresh out of NYU theater. Smoking was the thing). I light up, feeling fantastic and free and adult in my adult car. Roll down the window more... ZAP. The cigarette goes FLYING in to the back seat of my car... as I'm driving Coldwater Canyon (a curvy, windy, no light, two lane, canyon). Of course, I couldn't reach the cigarette but was able to watch slowly as it burned a nice big hole in the seat.

2005. I'm married. A true adult by now. The escort is long gone and now, and it's literally the day I'm turning in my leased Jetta. Moving on to an Infiniti. A real grown up. My Jetta had just come from the shop and gotten some work done (you didn't think I got a way with a car that was scratch/bashed/missing parts-less did you?). Now it was in perfect condition. An inspector comes to see the car, give me the "ok" to turn it in and move on to my fancy new Infiniti without fees or issues. He gives me the stamp of approval. Two hours later, I take my Jetta for it's last hurrah (to the bank or an errand or something). I "roll" through a stop sign and BOOM. Am hit by a foreign exchange student with an invalid license and no car insurance. My fault but he's actually in bigger trouble. $2000 more dollars later, I return my Jetta and move on to the Infiniti.

2007. Infiniti goes to my (ex) husband. I have a mommy car. A Nissan Murano. I love it more than words. My newborn baby is home from the hospital and I feel great in this car.... Until out of nowhere, I'm driving and a rock flies into my window, shattering the windshield as I drive with my baby alone on the 101. No biggie. Glass guys come, replace car. Just a pain.

2007. and a Month. I hit a woman's car in Target. Don't remember the details, just remember I did it. Insurance handles it, we get it fixed. I need to be more careful. And maybe only go to Target during off peak hours. And not 15 times a week. (Hello, motherhood).

2010. Murano still alive and kicking. Lease is up in just a month when SLAM. I tap, okay, REAR END an older gentleman and his wife at a stop sign. Bumper very crunched and will need work. Lots of work. It wasn't necessary to check Facebook at that time. I've learned my lesson. For REAL.

2011. Lease has been extended but bumper hasn't been fixed. Good thing though because as I'm gently reversing/ parallel parking into a spot, a guy opens his door into my car. DING. Right on the passenger side. No problem, insurance insurance insurance. Blah blah blah.

2011. Last week. Murano returned about 2 months ago. I'm now in my brand new car. Only issue with it is you can't program multiple seat settings and blue tooth sort of sucks. Other than that, happy as a clam. UNTIL... I'm just about to get out of the car, I reach for my purse and take one last look at work email so I can go into the house and focus one hundred and percent on Jonah, and WHACK! A Range Rover comes barreling down the street and virtually takes off my door. The car, with a door that won't close, remains on the street that evening, draped with a sheet and a rope saved from a lovely gift I was given and a lame sign. Just perfect, the night before the weekend in the land of Carmageddon...

Fortunately, Carmageddon was overhyped and the streets were amazingly calm and empty. AND my rental car is lovely.... Though I did just realize the hubcap is missing. I swear I didn't do it. I didn't. I think... Wait... Um...

GETTING ORGANIZED: PART 1

I've often talked about how the old me, the JBJ (that is, Jenny Before Jonah) was highly organized, highly anal, highly efficient. Obviously, a few things were always a little messy--- I had my Lucy Closets and unorganized wallets, sure. But I wasn't all over the place. I had a system. I knew where things were. I didn't have to shave while taking a conference call and folding laundry. At the same time. Things just looked better....

Recently I signed on as a brand ambassador with Brother P-Touch. I was so excited for this opportunity as my own brand of being Perfectly Disheveled is almost synonymous with label making (or at least THINKING about needing to have labels, structure, organization, etc). Anyway, joining forces with this company couldn't have come at a better time. With a child starting (and now fully in) preschool who is constantly growing, never ending paperwork that comes from divorce (even two years later), and an apartment that needs zsuszhing, love and a new couch (that's a whole other post), I am ready to GET IT TOGETHER.

I decided for my first P-Touch project, I'd tackle my son's clothing. Again, he's growing at warp speed and he has so many clothes, you'd think he was a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills. Shoes too. I wouldn't be surprised if one of his converse had red bottoms on it. He's so pretentious like that... ANYWAY, I decided it was time to clean out his draws and closet and put stuff in bins.

I purchased some rubbermaid bins from the big T... and went through each of his drawers and pulled EVERYTHING out. Later that evening, I made piles of what were keepers and what needed to go into storage. I found that I had a lot of 18-24/ 2T and even 3T stuff that he had outgrown. I had enough bins too to separate pants and shorts from shirts and sweatshirts.

What was great about the process was that I had him join in the fun too. When I told him he could push the letters, he was game to help. It actually turned out to be a great opportunity for him to "type" and do some letter recognition/ spelling. I used both the Home & Office "Simply Stylish" (PT -1290) and the Handheld (PT-1090) label makers, which offer a ton of different designs and tapes with different colors. I kept it pretty simple, but I can see how fun it would be to get "fancy."

The bins are now in my garage, which btw, looks big, but in actuality is only equipped to hold a Mini Cooper. I have an SUV. SO, lucky for me, I have plenty of storage space to work with... which means the next few months will be spent organizing and labeling anything and everything I can get my hands on.

My next step, after I put labels on Jonah's drawers, indicating where he can find S-O-C-K-S or P-A-N-T-S (this is a great exercise in learning to read AND letting him make "big boy" decisions), will be tackling my home office. My file cabinet is definitely a little overstuffed... Health insurance info is ending up in Credit Card land and Credit Card land is ending up in Preschool info (though that is kind of one and the same).

Bottom line, 'tis the season to get my type-A butt back in shape. Now if I anyone knows a sponsor willing to help me channel the old type-healthy/exercise/toned arms, I'd love a referral!

For more info on these products visit http://www.brother-usa.com/Ptouch/

NATIONAL LIKE YOURSELF DAY

When's the last time you looked in the mirror, and saw those dark circles under your eyes as a status symbol-- a beautiful indication of the hours you put into your family and life, instead of a sign of exhaustion and stress? Or when's the last time you looked down at your breasts (literally DOWN at your breasts, as they now fall below the equator) and considered their (dis)placement as a rite of passage, instead of "the shitty thing about breastfeeding?" OR when's the last time you looked at your ass in your not skinny jeans but alllmost 2 sizes CLOSER to the skinny jeans, and thought it looked perfectly fine...instead of a fat blob of once hot goodness?

Though charming, delightful, and entirely inspirational, let's be honest: those love yourself/love your body/ Dove campaign moments are few and far between for most of us. Amidst a divorce, a relationship post divorce, a house foreclosing, a career I wish would explode and a 3-year old who pretty much does explode when I wish he wouldn't--- I spend a lot of time in "woe is me" land. But it occurred to me yesterday, while on the treadmill (for the first time in god knows how long), that I'm not so bad. All things considered, I'm pretty goddamn spectacular. Yep, I said it.... And then I said it again, and again and again... And it got me thinking.... What if for one day, I just LIKED MYSELF. And I'm not even talking about the real "it's the inside that matters" stuff like personality, and generosity and intelligence, blah blah blah. I'm talking strictly superficial. HOW I LOOK. What if for one day, I shouted from the roof tops the things that I seriously, SERIOUSLY like about myself. The things that I can SEE in a mirror that I can always feel good about no matter what. The things that will be there with or without a promotion, with or without a significant other to cuddle with, with or without a best mommy of the year award...

Like my nose... I love my nose.

My ankles... I love my ankles.

My eyebrows... With a little help, I love my eyebrows.

Now it's your turn. It's NATIONAL LIKE YOURSELF DAY and I'm challenging YOU to like yourself today too. Choose three things that you love about yourself physically. Share them in the comments here and/or on your own blog. Be sure to leave a link and link back to me too. Tweet it, facebook it, share it with your community and spread the like yourself love....

Who's in?

THE STATE OF AFFAIRS

If the inside of a woman's purse is the window to her soul, then I am very much screwed.

It dawned on me the other day as I reached down into my once beautiful Marc by Marc Jacobs bag, that my purse has now become a laboratory for filth... an endless abyss of coins (not the kind that help at a meter), leaky pens, tampons (that scream toxic shock), and crumbs from snacks that look like they've gone through the food processor.... I'm scared to reach inside. I'm scared of my own purse.

I don't quite know how I have become LITERALLY a crazy bag lady.... But I have. Want a broken bangle? I'm your gal! Need seventeen health insurance cards... from 2004? Hello! Looking for a lip gloss that you'd have to smash open to get the last drop of color from? Look no further!

Friends, my purse is a danger zone. Stick your hand inside and it's MANICURE SUICIDE.

But what can I do? The state of my purse is a direct reflection of my life and right now I'm on over drive and in auto pilot... I've got A LOT on my plate... A lot of messy, scattered, and unorganized things going on......

Fortunately, it's the little things in life right now like Baby-Ko's obsession with Lady Gaga (aka Goo-Goo Ga-Ga) that helps the state of affairs feel a little less frantic. That is... when I don't have a headache from listening to it on a loop. Of course, I shouldn't complain. My purse IS chock full of ibuprofen packets should I need some....

The "New Mom" Excuse

A few weeks back, the Executive Producer for Momversation (the sister site to Parents Ask) was teasing me about this protein only diet that I've been doing... (Yes, I have been that annoying person in the office responsible for the wafting smell of microwaved turkey bacon and Jarlsberg Lite every morning). So, what was my reason for doing the kind of diet that I typically detest?

"I want to get rid of baby weight."

He cocked his head. "Um... How old is Baby-Ko again?"

Busted. My kid is starting preschool in the fall. Hello....

Right then and there it occurred to me that I have officially reached my cut off for using the "new mom" excuse. I mean, my constant state of disheveled-ness and unwashed hair can't entirely be blamed on my precious son... After all, I am juggling a full time job, a divorce, a new relationship, writing a book, an incredibly strong willed toddler, and the shaggiest shag rug known to man. (Literally this thing is a fucking beast). That list is enough to make anyone exhausted-- no matter how young or old your kid is. So really, there's no need to live on the "new mom edge" any longer-- those days are done. No need to hide behind that excuse. Now life is just plain chaotic. Let the real games begin...

Amused by my revelation, the EP decided this would make for a great discussion on Momversation. So... Check out this little video...

And tell me....What is the shelf life for using the new mom excuse?

DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO...

Have you ever been at the gym and seen a really unfit looking trainer and wondered where THAT person gets off telling THIS person how to get in shape? Well, between you and me, I think I’m "that unfit trainer" in the world of parenting. As the Managing Editor of Parents Ask, I have access to incredible experts, information, and answers—I have resources on how to/why to parent this way or that way at my fingertips. I hear it. I read it. I know it. Yet, in my own little world of all things cheerios and triple paste, I can’t say that I always look and act the part.

I. Am. The. Fat. Trainer. At. The. Gym.

Like, for example, when Baby-Ko decided to lie on the floor this morning kicking and screaming because I wouldn’t let him open my Lancome Eye Makeup Remover…(oh, you didn’t think I actually removed said makeup from my eyes the night before I was going to reapply to that exact area, did you???) I could have taken a deep parenting breath and pulled from one of my many manuals or mental files and addressed the situation, but instead I blanked out and pretty much stared at him. What was I supposed to do? Surely, ignoring it is one component, but there must be some other magic little trick that GOOD parents know about it, right?

Every now and again, however, I do have a stroke of parenting genius... Like yesterday, when we left a birthday party (and stole a nice Mylar balloon on our way out, clearly not intended as a parting gift)… Just as we got to the car, Baby-Ko let go of the balloon…

Up, up, UP it went…

“Oh, no, mommy! My Balloon! I want it!”

Just in the nick of time, just before an all-out fit erupted and I would have to start wracking my brain for a contact at NASA that might be able to help locate the balloon (because, shit, sometimes temper tantrums are just not that worth it), I said:

“Oh, Baby-Ko! You’re sending the balloon to another birthday party! That’s so nice!”

He looked at me. Please go for it.

“Another boy is going to have a balloon at his house too now!”
“Another boy?”
“Yeah.” Come on, little boy....

“Not Baby-Ko?”

“Not Baby-Ko. You were already at a birthday party. Let’s go home now,” I said trying to change gears… And it worked.

Later that evening, his Grandma came over and ironically, brought a Curious George book that has George letting go of balloons at a park. Proudly, Baby-Ko told us that George (pronounced "Yorge") was sending them to another birthday party too.

Hey, I done good.

The point is, like my friend Sarah Maizes of Mommylite, for most of us, good mommy moments are few and far between. However, on the slight chance that you do consider me an expert and someone with valuable information, I won’t discourage you from believing it or me…. There are some things I know. And at the very least, YOUR abs will be flat for the summer….

I'M STILL PERFECTLY DISHEVELED!

If you are here and reading this, good. If you are here and reading this, after trying to figure out how come it took you so long to figure out how to be here and reading this, sorry. And thank you.

Without getting in to it, let's just say my shit was hijacked-- my domain name basically expired or lapsed (without me knowing) and somebody swooped in and seized it. Apparently this is done all the time... an opportunity for someone to make some money I assume, as I will have to now get in a bidding war with a complete stranger over what is essentially MY identity -- I mean, what is the likelihood that this person also has a toddler, goes days without washing their hair and secretly feeds cheerios to herself and kid off the floor (if it's less than 5, okay, 10 seconds)? Hmm? Probably slim. Very slim. Nonetheless, I'm working hard to get MY NAME back. For now, (though you got here so you already know, but thanks for allowing me to be anal anyway) you can find me directly at:

www.j-kosblog.blogspot.com

In the meantime, check out the Spotlight Interview I did for Mommy Track'd with Lisa Whelchel a.k.a. Blaire Warner from "Facts of Life". It will come as no shock to you that my first question to her was about George Clooney....

SELF!

I am so over the moon and excited to announce that my blog was mentioned in this month's SELF Magazine as one of the Editor's and Self.com bloggers picks for favorite Web Diaries. PerfectlyDisheveled.com was their Fitness Tip Bloggers pick along with NieNie Dialogues (which has a huge following).  

Thank you, SELF!

This is a pretty big honor and one that definitely warranted me getting choked up at the newsstand over at 8am this morning... Needless to say, my fancy sunglasses are now all smudged from tears, but I've got my back up pair on stand by just in case.... Hope Baby-Ko doesn't mind being shadeless:-)

THE DIRTIEST MOMMY ON THE BLOCK

HELLLOOOOO. It has been a LONG time since I've posted. There's been a lot brewing in the world of J-Ko-- and it's been a little tough to find the time and "juices" to write-- NOT that there HASN'T been much to write about.... From my Baby-Ko's obsession with "Fuck!" (aka. "Hopkins" the FROG on "Signing Times"), to his brilliant three word sentence "I feeling it" (which he declared on Mother's Day as he fondled the clothes on every rack at Nordstrom), to the fact that I "blow my wad," so to speak, within the first five minutes of a walk with Baby-Ko because he devours every snack I've brought to bribe him to stay in the stroller....

But alas, Baby-Ko has discovered You Tube (not kidding) and I've got a few minutes to jot down my thoughts....

Remember when I was a SAHM and felt disheveled from head to toe? When my "uniform" was sweats and a tank, scarf in my hair and big sunglasses and maybe, just maaaybe a little concealer to hide the bags under my eyes (should I need to remove said glasses once entering fine establishments such as Target, Trader Joes, or Whole Foods)? And then I turned in to full time WM and had to get my act together (a little bit) on the appearance front-- handing Baby-Ko bangles and blush brushes to keep him occupied as I zipped off to work...?

Well, now I'm back. Disheveled is back. Not so perfect and certainly not very clean. On average, I shower every 1.5 days and am down to a Monday and Wednesday Hair washing routine. (Seriously, on a Monday or Wednesday, I could very well turn down plans with a "Oh, that'd be swell. But I've got to wash my hair" - and it'd be true!). These days I'm feeling grungier than ever and frankly, it's not all that terrible. Who needs to get dressed up to go to the park? Who needs to get dressed up only to have your 20 month old kiss and hug you, after feeding himself yogurt and avocado? Who needs to get dressed up if you don't even have time for a shower? Not me! Oh, no. I am happy to hang in my own filth. After all, I think a dirty mommy is a sign of a mom who's played hard and worked hard. In fact, I think the blue pen I noticed on my face after being out and about for HOURS says a lot about the kind of mommy I am.... Thanks to Harvey Karp, not only is Baby-Ko the Happiest Toddler on The Block, but he's got the THE DIRTIEST MOMMY ON THE BLOCK.

Speaking of which, I was invited by a neighbor to go to the park "with some of the other 'neighborhood' mommies." Turns out it is a Mom's Club thing, but she promises me that the mom's are all nice and kids around the same age.... Fortunately, there aren't any ducks or monster like turtles at this park, because we all remember what happened last time I was "In Da Club..." Wish me luck.... :-)

TALK ABOUT DISHEVELED....

I feel like I'm always doing laundry.  In fact, tonight before I left to run an errand and pick us up some dinner, I  took some laundry out of the dryer and threw a new load in the washer....  I threw the dry clothes on the dining room table. I'll fold them when I get back (i.e. pray that my mom, who's over, will get to them first)....

**

At California Chicken Cafe, I spend 5 minutes debating (in my head) about which salad to have. I order two California Salads (chicken, feta, avocado, tomato, pita chips) and take a number and wait for my order. Crap. I changed my mind. I want the Chinese Chicken Salad. Will be great for leftovers for lunch tomorrow.  I walk up to the counter and try to get the cashier's attention. She's in the middle of helping a middle aged man (with a bandage on his nose) and his lanky 20-something son.  

"Um, whenever you get a chance," I say as they exchange cash, "I just want to change my order."  The middle aged man (MAM) looks at me. He does a double take. What? I waited until you got your order in. What??

"There's something in your hair" he mutters.

"Huh?"  I say, not really hearing him.

"You have something in your hair," he points to it.

I swat at my hair. Ew. What is it?  He keeps pointing at my hair like he's seen a ghost. Everyone in line is staring.

"It's still there," he says and takes a step closer. Um, can I just get my salads please?!

"It must be my son's food or something," I say digging for an excuse. 

The cashier yells, "No it's kind of big." Big? What the hell is it?!  I pat my hair again. I feel nothing.

The MAM takes a step closer. "Here, I'll get--"

"No! That's okay. Really, I--" He takes a step closer. Now he's fully staring at my scalp. I'm frozen. The last time I washed my hair was on Saturday. My hairline cannot be pretty. I am so embarrassed. Can somebody just get my salad please?!

He takes another step closer. Now he's touching my hair. OH MY GOD.  He's PICKING through my hair like the mommy gorillas at the zoo. I'm going to die.

"Got it, " He holds up a piece of lint. "Here you go,"  he says handing me the remnants of  my laundry. 

"Oh, thanks... Hey. Look at that," I say apologetically, not knowing what to do with a shitty piece of lint.

CAN I PLEASE JUST GET MY FUCKING SALADS NOW!!??!

***

On my way out, the MAM, now sitting at the table makes some sort of sweeping gesture over his head as I walk by. Great, nice. You're honest and helped a complete stranger. Congratulations. Weirdo. 

I get in the car and look in the mirror. What is that? I look closer. Another piece of lint. Oy.

***

The moral of the story is multi tasking is great, but either I'm going to have to start washing my hair more, or start doing less laundry....