People I Want to Punch in the Throat


Adolpha's Favorite Finger

I picked Adolpha up from school and I heard her ask from the backseat, "Hey Mom, do you have a favorite finger?"

"Ummm . . . no.  I don't think so," I replied as I navigated through the hell that is the elementary school pick up line.

"Really?" she asked surprised.  "'Cause I do."

I figured she'd tell me her favorite finger was her thumb, since she has been sucking it since she was in the womb.  (We've been trying to break her of this habit, so if you have any words of wisdom - don't hold back!)  "Is it your thumb?" I asked.

"No, silly!  A thumb isn't a finger.  It's a thumb!"


Douchey Dad Revisited

'Guest post from The Hubs'

Apparently Jen hit a douchey nerve with her previous post.

I had no idea Jen had so many Douchey Dad readers and that they cared so much what she thinks or writes.  Before Jen started writing I never even heard of or read a blog before.  I think I was too busy on the golf course with my Douchey Dad friends.  Now that she has found a great audience and her voice, I fully support her writing and her sharp wit - even if she makes me look like a bitch sometimes.

How About a "Thank You"?

Lately I've been kind of busy with a bunch of other stuff so I haven't been paying close attention to what's going on in the world. However, over the weekend and into today I've received countless links to articles about that letter from the asshole parents who are throwing their snowflake a first birthday party. I finally had to stop what I was doing and take a look!

Holy cow.

Douchey Dads

I was attending an auction at a chic country club and  I arrived early to help the organizers set up and I was surprised to find the bar full of young, well dressed (if you can call expensive plaid shorts well dressed), golf playing, thousands of dollars a year for dues paying men sitting around drinking and yukking it up.  I wanted to say, "Hey...where do you guys work that you can spend half of a Tuesday golfing at this expensive club?"  (I also wanted to hand all of them my real estate business card, because these guys look like the type who might need a good divorce attorney and Realtor in their Rolodex's at all times.)

I started setting up tables, but I just couldn't control my irritation at these guys.  Everything about them rubbed me the wrong way.  Their stupid plaid shorts, their expensive drinks and the yukking. God, the yukking.  I've never heard laughter that was so phony and so forced.  It sounded like a combination of sea lions and parrots barking at each other.

Hello? Is There Anybody Out There?

Heyyyy! I feel like I haven't seen you in forever! Do you feel like that? Well, between working on a ton of new projects and Zuckerberg doing his damnedest to keep us apart, I thought I'd give you an update on what's been happening.

First of all, Zuck, does not want us to be friends anymore. I get it. He's running a business and he wants to make money just like I do. The thing is, I'd be more than happy to pay that guy enough to buy a few new hoodies every month (and maybe even a new pair of tennies too) if he'd still let us all hang out, but the dude wants a FORTUNE from me for every post I'm trying to share. I can't swing that and so we're going to have to find new ways to be together behind his back.

I don't have $1,500 to spend PER POST

Gwyneth Tries to Live on $29 a Week

Poor, poor, poor, filthy rich Gwyneth can not catch a break! That girl needs to fire her publicity department, because between peddling $550 travel backgammon sets as great stocking stuffers and touting the benefits of steamed vaginas, Gwyneth isn't getting the kind of press that does her any good. She's become the out of touch celebrity who sounds a tad crazy every time she opens her mouth. It's become so bad that no matter what she does she's vilified.

Take for example this week's publicity stunt: Gwyneth accepted the food stamp challenge in an effort to bring attention to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). Gwyneth accepted the challenge to live on $29 worth of food for a week. And then I assume she asked her personal shopper to ask her mom where commoners shop, because that $29 would only buy her a week's worth of Vegenaise at her normal food boutique.


I guess because I have younger kids, I only ever see the overachieving moms (OAM) at the over the top birthday parties or designing elaborate concoctions for school lunches. I forgot about the children the overachievers have been raising long before I started having kids. I didn't think about the high school-aged children of the OAMs. That's why I was surprised last week when I read an article about "promposals."