If I didn't laugh I'd cry.

I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed right now by the entire situation. The situation being this $700B pass/fail craziness. The situation being this Sarah Palin person who (and I'm really, really sorry if you're a supporter) is about as smart as my hairdresser (if that) and who a significant portion of the country actually wants to put one funky mole away from being in charge of my home. The situation being this whole polar bears are cannibalizing each other because their homes are melting because too many people don't turn the lights off when they leave the room. And people are losing their homes. And their jobs. And I just learned about "the lost children" of Argentina in the 70's and 80's, where 30,000 people "disappeared" and all these children were given to junta members. And I'm PMSing.

Really, it's all just too much.

So instead of reminiscing about my fun weekend in Chicago with all our Michigan friends (holla Pam!), I'm going to tell you a little story. A little story about the raddest celebrity I've ever sighted.

We take Lu and Ru to the park nearly everyday. It's a big, and there's this one area that's sort of a de facto dog park. We get busted by the cops every so often, but you know, we're rebels so we keep showing up. Anyways, there's loads of random people who come, but there's usually the same core group of people. One of these people is this guy. Kind of cute, mid-40s, really white, toothy grin. Maybe botoxed, probably spray-tanned. (This, by the way, is a very common look in LA.)

So one day we're just sitting on the knoll, watching all the dogs frolic, and ToothyGrinGrin's phone rings. (His dog is named Bella, by the way.) He's on the phone chatting, and I miss most of it but I do hear (eavesdrop) this tid bit: "...Yeah, next year will be 20 years, can you believe it? I know! We're going to rerelease the song. Yeah, it's gonna be awesome..." Clue number one.

After I heard him say that, I kept totally stealing glances full-on staring at him for the rest of the time we were at the park. Naturally, as we were leaving, Wade was all, "Um, why were you staring at that guy?" So I told him that we potentially had a 80s superstar in our midst, and he was like, "Oh yeah! When he answered the phone he was sort of singing something."

What was he singing?

"I don't know, it was something like 'Rock and roll...'" [Clue number two.]

He sang something like 'Rock and roll'? Like 'Killer diller'?

"'Killer diller'? Killer diller is not a saying. Or a song. What the hell songs are you listening to?"

I don't know. "Killer diller" sounded like it could be something. Anyhoo. Because I'm totally obsessed with famous people -- even random ones who I'm only sort of sure are famous -- I HAD to look this up as soon as we got home. So I googled "Top 100 songs 1989," and there it was. Number 45.

OH! Oh! Do you know who that was?!? That was MICHAEL DAMIAN!

"Who?"

Michael Damian! You know, "Rock On"? The "Dream a Little Dream" soundtrack? [Which by the way, has been on my amazon wishlist for over a year.] The guy who dated the chick named Cricket on Young and the Restless?

"How does it go? Who's Cricket?"

You know, [singing] "Hey kids, rock and roll, prettiest girl I've ever seen, see me rock in my blue suede shoes, JAMES DEAN. JAAAAMES DEEEEAN. Jimmy Dean! Rock on!

"Yeah, that's funny. That's totally what he was singing when he picked up his phone. See, I told you it was something like 'rock and roll.' Killer diller? What the hell?"

So there you go. I can't fix the polar bears or the financial crisis (and Sarah PP seems to be doing just fine on her own, so hopefully I only have to worry about her for 36 more days), but I can totally scooby-doo my dog park peeps and find out that they're responsible for one of the seminal musical moments of my middle school life. It's the little things.

Not to get all political on you...

...but I'm getting all political on you.

In case you didn't see this (as I hadn't).



DYING. I'm DYING. Please, Tina Fey. Turn gay. Then come and turn me gay and convince me to leave my husband and let's run off together so you can make me laugh all day, every day.

And also, my friend Amber suggested this, and I'm nothing if not a copy-cat, so I'm suggesting it too: If you support Barack Obama in this election, one easy way to get involved and maybe help sway a few voters in some swing states is to write post cards to them. You get a bunch, write why you support Obama (though not why you DON'T support McCain/Palin), and mail them to a central Obama person who'll then mail them to individuals in key states. Here's the link for the LA version of this. So easy to do. Very cheap. Much less daunting than phone banking (which I did a few weeks ago, and while I didn't get blasted with (too much of) the kind of vitriol I had prepared myself for, it's still kind of intimidating).

So there you go. One funny thing and one important thing. Not bad for 10 a.m. on a Monday morning.

Ciao summer!

[Yes this is another lazy post where I don't write anything but just put pictures up instead. Suck it.]

Last weekend we waved adieu to a LONG summer with a little dance party-barbecue-splash fest at our buddies' house. Such tasty food, such fun company, such chubby (oh wait, that was just mine) happy babies.

As you can see, much fun was had by all.

Sometimes he just be's like that.

This is for you, Sanam.

This post is for my cousin Sanam, who is far away from luscious Ruby-love in Killadelphia. I'm too tired and sick to post anything real. And also, my new hairstyle has developed it's own personality, and frankly, it's exhausting me. No more punishing it by putting it back in a ponytail/loop/smush--now it punishes me. It is confusing. It is fickle. I look like Hilary Clinton. I am stuck with it.

Anychoochoo, I have a million things I'd like to post about -- I won an award (sort of)! I have had the best celebrity sighting evah! I'd like to bitch more about my hair! -- but I'm very tired. I read one blog by a woman who has four kids under six, and she posts, like, twice a day. Fern, I raise my dark chocolate-covered Joe-Joe and salute you. In the meantimes, here are pictures for you, San. I promise to gnaw on Ruby's thighs for at least 45 minutes tomorrow in your honor.

Walking the dog. The raising of the eyebrows is her new thing. That, and deep, noisy gasping. Like, imagine Rachel Zoe finding a vintage Halston. That noise. It's a little scary coming from knee height.

Someone done got their hair did, part two. The other day, Ru woke up from her nap drenched. Hand to god, she did not have a fever when I put her down, but who knows? All I do know is that her hair was puh-lastered to her head when she got up. She's squinting because it was dark and I was using the flash, but also I think she knows that it makes for a funnier picture.

Looking much better with a barrette holding that mess back.

Reading her Cookie Monster book all by herself. What does she need us for these days? Not much.

And finally, cranky -- but beautiful -- at Target (which really, describes every Target trip for me). Please note my shopping companion and other cousin, Sasha, rocking my mom's purse in the background.

Two things.

One, I chopped off all (well, okay, most) of my hair. Why I did this in early September, as we all know early September is the devil's time, I don't know. I'm not sure if I like it or not, and I may chop a bunch more off before this is all said and done, so no pictures quite yet.

Two, I just checked my google analytics page, and someone found my page by searching "my belly, it feels like jelly, i had to much water, la la la la." Hee hee! Are those song lyrics? I love it!

Love/Hate

Right now, there is no middle ground for me. All things are either black or white, life or death. Here is where I passionately stand on a handful of random issues.

LOVE

• Jackapotamus ...and if I was a normal, flag-waving American, I'd spend $18 that I don't have on a really cute organic cotton t-shirt for Ruby that will be completely stained and grown-out-of in three months.
  
• Teaching myself new tricks. People, I AM SEWING! I made Ru a skirt! (See the last bullet in this list for a treat for your eyeballs.)
  
• Facebook. I have a problem. I check the status of my "friends" like 10 times a day. Why I need to see what that girl that I barely knew in high school is doing at every moment is a mystery and a sickness (I'm looking at you, Nancy Holcroft!).
  
• Making lists. Like such as this. I do it all the time. W wants to kill me when it's 11:30 at night and I'm doing it as we are going to bed. Less of a mystery, still kind of a sickness.
  
• Culver City, CA. If I was ever going to bite the bullet and buy a house in LA ($799,000 for an 80-year-old, 2 bedroom 1 bath, anyone?) I'll (sort of) gladly do it in this LA neighborhood. Cute downtown, walkable, on the metro line (in like 10 years). It really is just darling.
  
• The one breeze a day that reminds me that fall is coming.
  
• My new bloggy friends. In one day last week, I got comments from two different strangers saying that they read my blog. As I am usually fairly sure that I am only writing for myself, I was astonished. NEW FRIENDS! And I didn't even have to wander the lunchroom forlornly before they took pity on me and invited me to sit with them, which is, of course, how I usually make my friends.
  
• Spiders. They seem to be out in droves right now, and they're huge and amazing and creating the biggest webs. I saw one eating a honeybee the other day. Sad for the poor blighted honeybees, but still, so cool!
  
• The West LA Farmer's Market. Besides the joys of regular Farmer's Market-dom, it's walking distance from our house, and local oddballs residents provide the entertainment. Like, for example, our neighbor regularly puts on a tap-dancing show there. Or today, there was a local old folks' square-dancing group doing a little exhibition on the stage, and they were asking for volunteers. So I volunteered... my sister.
  
  
  

Doesn't she look like she's going to kill me? Ha! I actually felt kind of bad, because she was too nice to say no to her partner, but then she was the only "volunteer" up on stage (and the only person under 60). So I volunteered myself too. As a result, I am pleased to bring you Michelle and Nicolle's debut with the West Los Angeles Felicia Mahood Senior Center Heels and Souls Square Dancing Troupe:

It was beyond ridiculous. I was dying the whole time. We do-si-doed, we allemaned left, we made a star in the middle. And we did those things 900 times. To two whole songs (an unnamed techno and then "Brandy" sung along to by the dance caller).

Rubes was a little jealous.

And please check out that awesomazing skirt. I FREAKING MADE THAT. What!? I know!

I also love this farmer's market, because they have a train, which Grandpa rode with La Ruby.

HATE

• Books that make me feel stoopid. Thanks for nothing, The Maytrees. And I paid full price for it? Grrr...
  
• COMMUNITY ORGANIZER BASHING. What the F-itty F, Sarah Palin and Rudy Giuliani? I mean, I know I'm not exactly the poster child for social conservatism, but this was beyond the pale. (Wait a minute, let me pull out my soap box here for a minute.) OK, here we go. HEY DUMB ASSES. Yeah, you in the elephant-lei and the stupid McCain mum on your chest, laughing like a hyena at the community organizer "jokes" up there on stage. Do you know what community organizers do? WE (as my minor in grad school was indeed community organizing) do all the shit you don't want to. We work with the disenfranchised. We work with the poor, the homeless. We work with all the marginalized people who, alone, can't get their voices heard -- but who, together, are mighty and powerful and are effective in fighting for their rights (though, not usually to party). But maybe that's why you, you mum-wearing nincompoop, are trying to belittle us: because you are afraid of what these people can accomplish in numbers. But even if you don't know why you are laughing, even if you're just all, Ooh Sarah Palin, what a delightfully fresh breath of arctic air you are! What fun glasses! My, but you're kicky and cute and you accessorize well -- just what I've always wanted in a vice president! What is that you're saying about community organizing? I don't know but you're cute and everyone else is laughing, so HAHAHAHAHA. Even if that's what you're thinking, listen up. YOU, DEAR NINCOMPOOP, ARE A REPUBLICAN. YOU BELIEVE IN SMALL GOVERNMENT. YOU THINK EVERYDAY PEOPLE SHOULD FIX SOCIAL PROBLEMS, NOT THE GOVERNMENT. So you know what? Technically, you totally support community organizers. Technically, you are a community organizer's biggest damn fan. So please, you Palin-loving, Giuliani-hugging chucklehead, SUCK ON THAT. (Alright, putting the soapbox back in the soapbox closet now.)
  
• The end of August/beginning of September. The late summer heat. The big funky clouds of crazy that come in with the hot winds. Proof: Everyone I know is snarky towards everyone else I know. My mom's hospital closed, putting her out of a job. Ruby is a punk -- throwing food, hitting me, whining for -- literally -- hours at a time. Lulu is 150 lbs. of annoying, whining for -- literally -- hours at a time. My friend just found out her (a-hole) boyfriend of four years cheated on her. And to prove that this time of year is evil, I wrote all of that before we got rear-ended by a nut-job on the 405 yesterday. Scary, scary business, y'all. (We're all fine, but get this: when Wade went up to her car after the accident to swap information, the nut-job (who, in hitting us, set off a chain reaction that involved four cars total) yelled at him, "DON'T PRESSURE ME!" She was late summer in human form.)
  
• This commercial. Why do we need to sexualize candy? Was anyone else half-expecting to see little candy-covered chocolate erections on the film crew? I'm certainly no prude, but seriously, this is gross. And we wonder why seven-year-olds want to wear thong panties. (I am sorely tempted to make a "melt in your mouth, not in your hand" joke here, but I won't. For the children.)
  
• That I am a forgetful hag. It's a trend, sadly. Currently missing: one bra (?!); my new, amazing glasses; and my wedding rings. I'm dumb. And now floppy, blind, and seemingly single.
  

It's OK though, mid-September is almost here. If early September is like swimming in a pool that too many people have peed in, then mid-September will be like jumping in a cool mountain lake. Mid-September will be crisp and refreshing and peppy and better.