Vintage View: Rosie, Elizabeth, and The Donald

After more than twelve years, The View may seem like a daytime institution, but when the show began it was groundbreaking. Smart, opinionated women not only talking about their lives and the day’s events, but arguing about them. Add some celebrities and fashion advice and they had a hit. I liked it then and I like it now. The gossip isn’t as good as on my driveway, but the fights are sometimes smarter.

And speaking of fights, my favorite co-host was Rosie.

Pick your side, but this clip is exactly what Barbara Walters set out to create with this show.

And who can forget Rosie’s rant against Donald Trump. (I like him, but her criticism was spot on.)

I’m not fat or gay. I’m not quite as obnoxious as Rosie. Not quite. But I like to challenge people. I’m the Rosie of my circles. Of course that’s why I love her. Or maybe it was the hair. If Trump had her stylist, everything could have been different.

I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other The View branded items to facilitate my review.

Positive Reinforcement?

by on January 19, 2010
in Suburban Bliss

I’ve gotten into a bad habit of letting the dog get on the furniture. It seemed harmless when he was younger, before he got into the habit of peeing on his own front legs. My pet has zero discipline. It’s my fault. And now it’s a problem. Case in point: I don’t watch a lot of TV, but the other night I really settled in, cocooning myself on the couch with blankets and a pillow. I kept smelling something. What was it? What’s that smell? Could it be.. Dog Ass?

That’s when I decided the dog was done relaxing himself on places I put my head.

The first day started out right. I smacked him off the couch and vowed to do so until he figured it out.

“Just make sure you give him positive reinforcement too,” my husband said.

Positive reinforcement?

[mumble, grumble] ”That’s not how I operate”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

Keep your ass off my pillow and you won’t get slapped. Positive enough?

Can Someone Please Explain Cotillion?

I sent my son to cotillion and I don’t know why. I mean it was cute and all, seeing him dressed like a little yachtsman, a miniature polititian, but what was the point? Over the course of ten weeks the kids learned some dances, which they will never use in actual social situations except for maybe at their wedding. If my prayers are answered that won’t be for at least another two decades and they’ll forget by then, right?

The culmination of cotillion was the Holly Ball. We parents dressed up and joined the kids in the gymnasium of the Boys and Girls Club. There were jackets and corsages. I’m not sure what it is we’re preparing them for. Maybe if the dances were held at a country club — if we belonged to one of those, and if it were the type that hosted formal dances and not just happy hours where surgically enhanced housewives got drunk and rationalized screwing the service guy at the Lexus dealership – maybe then it would make sense. But from where I stand, it doesn’t.

This year I had it easy. I had a boy in cotillion. That meant one outfit, week after week. If the girl wants to participate, I’m into it for eight dresses. But I don’t think she’ll bite. She’s smarter than the rest of us. One look at the panty hose and white gloves and she’ll call bullshit. God, how I love that girl.

Let’s Have Fun This Thanksgiving, Shall We?

I am not hosting Thanksgiving this year. Know what that means? It means it’s going to be awesome is what that means! I am going to eat, drink, and probably talk too much. I am going to be thankful for all the insanity. And I’m going to write it all down. The good, the bad, the hurtful and rude. Be warned.

Won’t you join me? I’m issuing a challenge–to make your Thanksgiving way more funner. This year, collect quotes. Whenever Uncle Fred or Auntie Annie spit out a racial slur, when your parents pick at your lack of ambition or your excess forearm flesh, when your inlaws inquire as to your status with child or without–write it down. Share them here in the comments to prove that every family is crazy, or just to make someone else feel better that yes, your life really is worse than theirs. Or funnier. You get to decide.

Happy Thanksgiving!

To the Squirrel

by on October 9, 2009
in Suburban Bliss

Hey there, little fella. You there, with the nut, zipping along my fence line, climbing onto the gutter and scuttling across my roof to get into my attic God knows how. I’ve got news for you.

You’re going to die.

Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but here’s the thing – I’m warning you. So when you find yourself inside that metal cage we’re going to put on the fence, the one that you’re too stupid to avoid on account of your brain is so very tiny – don’t say I didn’t tell you so. And don’t be mad at me either. You don’t pay any portion of my mortgage, you don’t use any portion of my house.

If you persist, you must die.

Or you could just make like a squirrel….  and live in a tree.

Your choice.

Suburban Housewife Rap

I can’t get this out of my head so I had to share it with you. And if you don’t live in the suburbs, let me assure you, it’s all true.

Why is it Easier to Buy a Car Than a Gym Membership?

by on June 23, 2009
in Suburban Bliss

Last week the transmission on my husband’s 1998 Ford Explorer went out. We’d known for a while that car shopping was in our future, but the thought of braving the heat and those awful car-selling tactics had caused us to wait until the final moment to do it.

My husband did his homework online and then we plodded down to the lot together. He in charge of acting manly and disinterested – I in charge of on-the-spot number crunching and keeping him focused in the face of sleek interiors and state-of-the-art navigation systems. We had the whole good-spouse-bad-spouse thing worked out. And in just a few days we had test driven, feature compared, and signed on the dotted line for sixty payments on a 2008 Toyota Tundra. (Yes, a big ole truck. That is a whole other story.) Read more

7 Surefire Ways to Get Blacklisted from the PTA

You hate the PTA. Admit it. You’d rather clean out the drain than volunteer for field day or bake muffins for all those ungrateful teachers. But someone’s got to do it, right? Much as you cannot stand the thought of one more silent auction, you don’t want to be that mom – the slacker who doesn’t care enough about the social and educational future of her children to get her lazy ass down to the cafeteria for the float committee meeting.

Instead of actually having to say no, wouldn’t it be easier to get kicked right out of the PTA? Now you can. I can help.

Here are 7 surefire techniques for getting banned from the PTA forever:

#1 – Pass out peanuts.
Peanuts in public schools are like anthrax in Washington. Distribute peanut M&Ms to the kids in your charge at the petting zoo and you’ll never organize another field trip.

#2 – Get a job.
This is a drastic step, but if you miss enough of those 10:am meetings, you’ll never be asked to join another committee. Bonus: for this technique to work, you don’t actually have to get a job, but merely convince others that you have.

#3 – Botch the bulletin board.
You will eventually be asked to create an adorable bulletin board made of QTips or stunning botanical scenery for the second grade musical. Creating a horrid piece of artwork should be easy so if you’re in a hurry to get the boot, volunteer for this.

#4 – Show off your tramp stamp.
There is nothing to get mouths a-gaping like a little ink below the waist line. Strategic use of low rise jeans can insulate you from years of fall carnival shifts, spaghetti socials, and any other event that would put you in proximity of any Mr. PTAs.

#5 – Buy the wrong color.
It doesn’t matter what it is – balloons, paper plates, napkins – go against the committee’s ruling on a particular nuance of forest green and you can kiss your PTA career goodbye.

#6 – Piss off the Queen.
Work with your personality to find the most effective way to enrage the PTA Queen. It’s important to understand that PTA Queens often operate outside the official hierarchy of the PTA system. Learn who they are, irritate them, and go on with your merry non-PTA existence.

#7 – Embezzle the funds.
This is perhaps the most drastic step of all, but in many cases can result not only in your being shunned from the PTA, but every other well-meaning, time-sucking volunteer organization in town.

Keep all these in mind next time you stroll your happy little self down to the PTA meeting. Because really, aren’t they all a little easier than just saying no?

Have you been blacklisted from the PTA? We need your tips! Please help your fellow moms by sharing in the comments below!

More of My PTA Experience:

How Many Parents Does It Take to Make the 5th Grade Homecoming Float? – In a moment of weakness I volunteered for the 5th grade homecoming float committee. I know – the 5th grade has a homecoming float?

PTA Challenged – The day before the Thanksgiving musical, after the dress rehearsal, I got some feedback that maybe my son’s turkey costume wasn’t exactly the best in show.

Room Mother at Last – No one believed I could do it, but this post proves I did. And once is enough, right?


Image Credit: Marlon Hammes, Flickr

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