I Loves Me Some Semi-Pornographic Photos

I read this article this morning how Cindy Margolis, the so-called "Queen of the Internet," has finally done a Playboy shoot. Finally! Whew! Now I can stop holding my breath.

Seriously, my first thought was, "Who the hell is Cindy Margolis?" According to the Guiness Book of World Records, she's the most-downloaded chick ever, and she's never even done a double-penetration anal with a German shepherd! Or gotten naked, even!

That news didn't wow me either (although I found it a tad hard to believe), but then I read that Cindy has decided to bare her derrier for Playboy as a charity event. She has three children from fertility treatments--one from IVF and twins from a gestational surrogate--and she's raising money for RESOLVE, a national infertility organization. That is totally awesome. You go, Internet Queen. I think I'm going to go download you now.

No, She Didn't Actually Eat Cleanser

Raising a young child is a bizarre combination of utter boredom and super-heightened attention. Babies are basically boring. Twelve hours a day you do this:
food diaper food diaper sleep food diaper sleep
But then there's this:
food diaper food diaper HIT HEAD ON TILE FLOOR food sleep diaper food EAT CLEANSER call Poison Control food diaper sleep food

It's rather like being a TSA luggage inspector. Godawful boring job where you stare at stuff all day, but you can't let your attention wander for a second, or you might miss a bomb.

Baby-raising is even more like TSA inspections when it comes to diaper changes--those bombs are definitely chemical weapons.

She Doesn't Love Me

Today, when the King came home from work, as usual, the Princess flung herself out of my arms trying to get to him. She does this every day. However, as soon as he is holding her, she immediately jerks her head around looking for me. She shrieks when she sees me and shoves her chubby little body away from him, sobbing and reaching for me.

Except today. Today, for the first time ever, when he picked her up, she looked around for me. He started to hand her back, like always, and instead of reaching for me, she clung to him. She had no interest in coming back to me--she wanted him to hold her.

And then I cried because my baby didn't love me best.

Ha! Did I get you there? It was AWESOME! I took advantage of my newfound freedom to hit the bars, get smashed, and have meaningless sex with strange men! Okay, no, I didn't, but I totally would have if dinner wasn't already on the stove. But I did pee without an audience for the first time in months. It was glorious.

You Are What You Eat

Living in Hawaii gives one the opportunity to sample new kinds of food not usually available on the mainland. Given that 60% of the state is Asian, primarily Japanese, there is tons of Asian food. There is also lots of traditional Hawaiian food, most of which is very good.

Some of it, however, is revolting. Do you know about poi? Poi is made by digging up the root of a taro plant. The root looks sort of like jicama or a coconut--it's brownish and dirty and covered with what looks like brown 1970s-era grass wallpaper.

You peel off this brown, furry stuff and the inside is purplish. You smash it up, and then you let it "ferment." "Ferment," in this case, is a euphemism for "rot." Poi is rotten taro root. It even comes in flavors. You can get it in extra-rotten or only a little rotten. You can eat it as thick, gloppy, rotten stuff, or you can add water and make it runny, watery, vile stuff.

Another, even more evil concoction, is a Filipino delicacy, often sold by street vendors, called "balut." Balut is a fertilized duck egg. That is, there is a tiny, baby duck inside this egg. It dies. Then it sits on a shelf for about 17 days. It gets rotten and molded and disgusting. Then you buy it from a street vendor and eat it. Yum!!

Nicknames

Some of you may be wondering if I refer to my daughter as "Princess" in real life, as well as on here. Let me assure you that Princess is purely a blogging-anonymity name. My online name has been Queenie for years, so Princess was a natural outgrowth of that.

Normally, in the real world, I refer to her as "Isn't she asleep yet?" or "God, please stop screaming!" And occasionally as, "Do you think she can crawl over to that bug and eat it before I can get a paper towel to kill it with? Oh. Yeah, I guess so."

Random Notes

Here's a tip: If you're trying to look really manly and tough by blasting your car stereo so everyone on the block can hear it, it helps if you aren't playing something by Peter, Paul, and Mary.

Also, the Princess has learned that if she doesn't like what she's wearing, she can yank it off over her head. This skill will come in handy when she runs away from home and becomes a stripper.

Home Makeover: In-Law Edition

Why do people buy you gifts that have to be displayed in your home? That should be against the law. My mother-in-law, who I really do adore and who is a wonderful woman, insists on giving us gifts of home decorations, although she knows we have different tastes.

She likes blush pink, lemon yellow, and that weird, chalky blue they make those plates out of. She enjoys making--and hanging on her wall--those wreaths made of dead flowers.

She has been to our house. She knows we like black. And more black. And maybe silver. She knows anything with a floral print gives me hives.

So why does she insist on giving us stuff like this?

Kill Your Television

I was just listening to NPR, and they were reporting on the increasingly fundamentalist and ultra-conservatism of the government and laws in Egypt. The interviewee pointed out that, in contrast to some of the other media, there is a tv station in Egypt that, to celebrate Ramadan, shows nothing just American sitcoms every night for a month. For all of Ramadan, all this station shows is "Frazier," "Friends," and "Seinfeld."

A month of mindless, white, New Yorkers making bad jokes about how hard it is to be rich and live in Manhattan? (Okay, Frazier lived in Seattle. Like that's much different.) And that's supposed to be a celebration? It sounds more like punishment to me.

Why I Should Not Shop at Bath and Body Works

My soap is raspberry-and-cream scented. My shampoo has melon and cucumber. My conditioner has "hints of pineapple," and my face soap smells like orange juice. When I get out of the shower, I smell like a freaking fruit salad.

Should be an Overheard, But I'm Too Lazy to Write a Real Post

Me: Look! The Princess just pulled a new diaper out of the box and is chewing on it!

The King: Dude. Talk about cottonmouth.

Fatherhood

The King: I'm not kissing the Princess on the lips anymore. I'm only kissing her on the cheek from now on.

Me: Why?

The King: Because she doesn't know how to do it. She always opens her mouth. I don't like it when she slips me the tounge.

Me: Err...yeah.

Chastity

I really am back, but the Princess has been getting up at the ass-crack of dawn every day, and I've got two different books I'm editing simultaneously, which is making posting difficult. Plus, I'm trying to have lots and lots of sex with my husband. You see, I had a period (yay! First one since the baby, third one in the past three years). Then, just as that was ending, I got a terrible cold. Then he caught the terrible cold. Then my relatives came to visit. All in all, it had been FIVE WEEKS since we, a happily married couple, had celebrated our intimacy with some wild monkey love. Far too long. So now we're trying to make up for it, in between the two-book editing, his 80-hour workweek, and the whole up-at-the-ass-crack thing. Once that's done, I'll be here more regularly, I promise.

I Got Lost!

While my sister and her husband were visiting last week, we went on a hike into the Hawaiian jungle. We saw a huge, stunning waterfall cascading over a cliff, enormous tropical trees completely encased in creeping vines, and many beautiful birds. But who cares? Lost was filming!

That's right, I saw the big cages, I heard the director yell "Action!" and I saw Sawyer, Kate, and Charlie in real life! Sawyer is even hotter in person. Charlie looks nothing like himself, and Kate isn't as pretty as on tv, although you'd definitely give her a second look if you saw her on the street. They were filming right at the trailhead, and as I stared and drooled at Sawyer, I noticed a large, low building off to one side. It was the bunker that the hatch is in!

It was totally awesome. I confess to being an insane Lost-ite. I'm currently watching the second season as fast as possible so I can get all caught up and watch the third season on tv. Practically everyone I know has seen some of cast at the grocery store or eating at a restaurant, but I never had. Until now!!

More Things You Learn

In a pinch--like, say, at 3 a.m.--those crackly, pre-sealed spermicide inserts make great toys for a wakeful baby. Also, you know it's been a bad night if your child's first midmorning nap occurs at 7 a.m.

Notes From the Underground

--Child sick.

--Husband sick.

--House dirty.

--Sister and brother-in-law coming to visit tomorrow.

--Sister's birthday Thursday. Gift not wrapped; card not bought. Also, gift purchased in ten-minute sprint through mall with screaming baby. Gift sucks, and she will hate it.

--Refrigerator empty. Wrapping paper drawer probably also empty.

Would anyone like to trade lives for a couple of days? Just until, like, Friday? Prefer someone whose life involves frequent massages and regular visits to Tiffany. Must do floors and change diapers, as well as minister to the sick.

Is That a Ten-Inch Lollipop or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

As I was sitting here typing, the Princess was getting into a half-open box of stuff we never unpacked after our last move. You know those boxes? The ones that have stuff in them that you just can't bear to get rid of, like a mixed tape your seventh-grade boyfriend gave you, and an old plane ticket for that trip where you went to visit the old boyfriend and ended up dumping him and sleeping with his roommate?

So, the Princess was playing with stuff in this box, and, eagle-eyed mother that I am, I noticed (read: saw out of the corner of my eye while debating about whether organic oranges were worth the price) that a long stick was poking out of the box and threatening to stab her in the eye. She had grabbed the stick and was playing with whatever it was attached to.

So I went and pulled the stick away from her, and lo and behold, she had been playing with a large, candied penis.

No, I am not kidding. The King used to live in Japan, and they have these fertility festivals there, and they aren't all psycho-Puritan about sex like we Americans are, and they give kids big, candy genitalia to suck on and wave around. Like X-rated lollipops. I dug around in the box a bit more and came up with three more lollipops--two penises and one rather girlish vagina.

So now my daughter is playing with her penises and vagina and enjoying herself thoroughly. What, I was supposed to take them away from her? If they're good enough for Japanese kids, they're good enough for us.

The Human Garbage Disposal

My daughter is just shy of eight months old. Last night, for dinner, she ate:

--One piece of chicken. And I don't mean one baby-sized piece of chicken. I mean an entire piece of chicken.

--One jar of organic carrots-and-peas baby food, size large.

--One dinner roll.

--Two slices of fresh apricot, mixed into the carrots and peas. I know, eww. But she loves it.

All in all, she ate approximately one pound of food. Given that she weighs about 18 pounds, that is roughly approximate to me eating about 9 pounds of food in one sitting. I like to think that she is only eating like this because she just learned to crawl, and is growing fast, and all that, but I'm afraid that really she is going to end up weighing 700 pounds and will have to be cut out of her couch.

Cough, Cough, Cough, Sniff

I have a cold. It's not a major one, and if I didn't have a kid, I'd probably just go to bed with some Theraflu for about 14 hours and wake up good as new. Unfortunately, the Princess would undoubtedly spend that time figuring out how to catch and eat the fish in our fishtank and pulling bookshelves down on her head, so I can't do that. Being sick when you have a child sucks. Not only do you feel like crap, and you can't do much about it because of the whole "I'm responsible for keeping this small person alive" thing, but every time she makes the slightest cough, sneeze, or sniffle, I shout, "Oh crap! She's getting sick! Stick a thermometer up her butt!"

I really, really don't want her to get sick, because my sister and her husband, the race car driver, are coming to visit this weekend and I'm already nervous about them staying in the room next door to the Princess's. They have no kids of their own and don't want any, and although they like playing with children, they aren't so fond of the screaming, whining, and pooping that go along with them.

Hopefully all will be well. And hopefully by tomorrow I'll be all better and not all drugged up on cherry-flavored Sucrets and lemon tea and can think of something more interesting to write. Like about how I had a huge crush on the race car driver when he and my sister were dating when I was a little girl, and how when I grew up, I spent years dating this guy who looks just like him (remember the old boyfriend from here?), and how then after that, I married a guy who looks just like him, and how I really, really need therapy.

We Are Americans; Give Us Your Women!

Remember the movie "Black Hawk Down?" The King was there, in Mogadishu, Somalia, just before the events that took place in the movie. His job was to drive around the city and take down roadblocks the militas had put up to keep American soldiers out of Mogadishu. When his plane landed in Somalia, each guy in his group was given a laminated card with translations of Somali phrases that the U.S. Navy thought would come in handy. Here is a selection of things he learned how to say in Somali:

--We are Americans! Put down your rocket launchers!

--The armed gang is coming slowly with the rice.

--Hello! Do you have dangerous explosives?

--Give me three villages!

--Can you lead me to six good women and some water?

Political Doublespeak

This morning, according to CNN, the president was "'taken aback' by a report that a U.S. official threatened the United States would attack Pakistan if it did not help immediately after 9/11." Apparently, Richard Armitage, then-deputy secretary of state, told the Pakistani president that we would "bomb his country back to the Stone Age" if they didn't help us in the war effort. (Armitage denies he ever said that.)

The thing was, President Bush actually said, "I was taken aback by the harshness of the words."

The harshness of the words? Not the actual threat of destroying an entire country if their leader didn't do whatever we told him to? That's what upset you?!

Even better, Armitage says, he never threatened Pakistan with a military invasion because he "was not authorized to." But otherwise, sure! We'd be all over that!