Lesson 1: Not Everyone Likes a Good Suicide Joke As Much As You Do, Amanda

 Upon making someone’s acquaintance at a New Year’s party yesterday:

 “Do you have children?” I asked.

 “Two boys,” she said. “Four and six.”

 “Oh, mine are two years apart, too. Do yours get along well?”

 “Usually,” she said. “But this week was hard. My husband was out of town, and the boys were bickering constantly, and I just …”

--Mommy?

--Yes, Patrick?

--(Tiny whisper) I'm scared.

--What are you scared of?

--Kittens.

I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to stop by here and see you more often. It’s
just that there's been much hunching over and wrapping of gifts, and
fretting about The Silver Blouse for my Angel Tree person, and then
realizing too late that I could have just gotten my Angel Tree person a gift card
(duh) but instead sent my husband out into the world to purchase a silver blouse (I know, I KNOW).

This morning I was all, "Larry, you don't think Gus is old enough to get dressed for school all by himself do you? After all, he's only four."

Minutes later, Gus slid into the kitchen fully dressed and shouted, "TAH DAH!"

We praised him for a solid two minutes, with lots of gaspy surprise and WOW and CAN YOU BELIEVE WHAT A BIG BOY ...

And then Gus leans up against the refrigerator and says, "Okay. Now who wants a cigarette?"
 

Dear Young Man,

I don't believe we've ever met. (Although it feels like we've known you FOREVER). The fact that you are a total stranger who is twice my son's age and more than twice his size is just one of the many, many, reasons my four year old will not be going with you to the toy section at this time. Other reasons include: WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER? and NO, SERIOUSLY, WHERE IS SHE? and PLEASE LEAVE US ALONE.

I have plenty to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Two healthy boys, a loving husband, an invitation to go somewhere that is not my house, and a widespread reputation for being so chronically inept in the kitchen that people BEG me not to cook.

"What time do you want us to come over?"
"Oh, say around two-ish?"
"Can I bring anything?"
"NO! GOD, NO! PLEASE! Ahem, I mean, just bring yourself and your duffel bag of wine, and that would be great. We're all set here, thanks!"

Sorry, but I'm going to have to pass the humor torch to this little guy today. He's been making the email rounds, and regardless of the fact that I did not personally give birth to him, he still gets the Cutest Baby Ever stamp of approval. Also, he's got some great holiday gift ideas for those of you who are shopping on a budget. Check it out:

I was watching CNN this morning, soaking in the usual hard-hitting news stories (will Ted Turner and Jane Fonda ever reconcile? "She says she still loves you, Ted.") when up pops a story about pirates hijacking a Philippines chemical tanker.

I was all, PIRATES?  Today? As in, not a bazillion years ago?

This may be a wildly inappropriate and self-centered thing to say on this historic election day, but WOULD YOU LOOK AT MY HAIR?

What IS that?

I'd like to propose new legislation that prohibits complete strangers from telling me how tired I look. I know they're just trying to make conversation

"Happy" Holidays!

Enjoy your "FREE" gift!

Come on in! We're open "24/7"!

Introducing The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotations, one of my favorite new ways to "kill" time on the Internet:

http://quotation-marks.blogspot.com/

Have you ever hit the web late Friday night and emailed your boss a Merlot-marinated piece of your mind?

"Mom, do I smell poop?
Oh wait, no.
That's just my breakfast."

Who knew? Sara Lee is now in the business of selling “fresh IDEAS.” Good for you, Sara Lee. It pays to diversify.

1. Today I had lunch with the editor of Bob Barker's autobiography

As if we needed more ways to kill time online, now there's Jib-Jab, which in my humble opinion, is the best source of e-cards yet. The site lets you upload and edit your own photos so you can star in hilarious mini music videos--and email them to all of your friends. It's easy, it's funny, and it's free.

For a sneak preview of what Jib-Jab has to offer--check out my hubby and me in our own solid gold performance, by clicking on this link:

http://blabbermouse.typepad.com/blabbermouse/2008/09/larry-and-i-get-dow...

Or, go straight to the source and make your own:

This morning at breakfast, my four-year-old, Gus, said, "Mom, I bet you already know what I'm going to get you for your birthday."

"Actually, I have no idea, Gus."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes you do."

"No, I really don't."

"It's something you really, really want."

"I can't wait."

"Actually? It's three things!"

"Three things?"

"Guess what they are."

"Well, let me think. Three things that I really, really--"

"I'll just tell you. It's a pretty princess dress-up suit. A Barbie. And some wine."

HOW DID HE KNOW?

Hope springs eternal. Box springs, on the other hand, need to be replaced every eight years. Mattresses, too. If my husband so much as sneezes in our bed, it feels like he’s having an epileptic seizure. Throw two kids and an itchy canine into the mix, and we might as well be sleeping on the San Andreas Fault. I keep waiting for The Big One.

So I asked my friend, who recently got a Sleep Number bed, whether they’re really worth the money.

She nodded emphatically, “That bed saved our marriage.”