Restrain me

Tonight I took a ybab to the condo association meeting because I had to vote for people to be head busybody and Lord High Protector of the Visitor Parking Spot. A ybab behaved most delightfully, better than many of the adults present. Seen but not heard is a welcome prescription for most of society. OK, without the "seen" part too. I totally forgot about Wal-Mart for a minute there.

In other news: someone has recently acquired an enormous SUV. The license plate reads "YOGAETC." Yoga and global warming, oil wars, etc.. Goes together like peanut butter and rocks.

Oh, and Zellweger has been leaking radiation all over the house. She's hiding something, I just know it.

Posted 9:56 PM by Licketysplit

This just in

Mr. H is threatening to grow a beard. I believe he tried this in 2004, and hilarity ensued.

My Zellweger set the microwave on fire with a Chinese food container. That bitch! I think I'm going to have her return the dry cleaning hangers as punishment.

Posted 4:20 PM by Licketysplit

What a Day That Was

I just tested a ybab's fault tolerance with 30 seconds of Gwen Stefani, courtesy of iTunes. She reacted with the same face she makes when she acccidentally bites herself.

Posted 12:47 PM by Licketysplit

Love is....

Hep me, Uncle Wiggily! A ybab has been replaced with a Tasmanian Devil. Only between the hours of 11pm and 5am. Ryan wants to give her Benadryl, but I am not totally up for drugging children recreationally. She'll pick up that slack when she's a teenager. Why, a somewhat feathered duck did tell me a salty tale once, and I am loathe to recall the ending, but I daresay the complication was all the fault of the rag man.

Oh, and you'll never guess what the cat dragged in!



My Zellweger has returned from parts unknown, pregnant and clutching a fistfull of parking tickets. I don't know what to make of this. You will notice, oh best beloved, that it has been 314 days since she last made an appearance. She muttered something about witness protection, and I smiled and nodded and handed her a mop. These floors don't clean themselves! And, as a bachelor, I don't iron. If you want to stay around here, you have to earn your keep.

Posted 5:46 PM by Licketysplit

Chief operating visionary

I'm getting new business cards made up. In my mind, I am smart and capable and earn a fabulous living while balancing the needs of my family. My mind is a liar. Actually, I am behind on everything to the point where no one will ever call me again, not wearing pants (which meant I had to hide from Fed-Ex, thus vexing Mr. H, who is awaiting some shiny electronic jimcrack from Apple), and my ybab hates me. I know this because she stayed up all night plotting on how best to kick me in the abdomen. Oh, mummy, come closer...closer...just a little...WHAP. Now she's sleeping the sleep of the guilty. Unfortunately, this is on the couch. If I move her, she will wake up. If I move, she will roll over and die somehow.

So I'm using this productive naptime to delete all my email. Currently, I'm expunging August 2004. Just try to subpoena me now! I don't know what I'm trying to erase. Proof that my life used to be so much easier? At the time I did not think it was easy. I am a sucker. I will regret deleting later, but it feels so good at the time. I sort of regret throwing out all my concert ticket stubs and all my cassette tapes, but a little pain has a salutatory effect on the soul. Right? No, I am just an idiot. And when I want to hear that particular mix tape that contained the Plimsouls, I will not be able to do so. A really hot guy made that tape, too.

Posted 10:47 AM by Licketysplit

Is this a parade or an actual emergency?

Today A. Ybab and Mr. H and I went for a walk. I strapped her to my front in the Moby wrap and pulled my coat around her so only her foolishly be-hatted head stuck out. This deflects some of the alcoholics who live under the streets downtown, but not all of them. She continues to test well with that demographic, ideally with cross-over to chainsmokers. A few days ago, the lady with a nose ring and three teeth gave her the loving moniker "Sugar Booger." I am familiar with the booger sugar, but I think that lady probably specializes in methamphetamines in the off-season.

Anyhoo, we ended up walking past lots of people with glow sticks, and then we realized it was time for the city's annual Salute to Municipal Vehicles, a.k.a. the festival of lights or something like that. We shoved through the crowd and got our lattes, coming out just in time to hear "Ready to roll." So we had to Frogger our way through a flotilla of police motorcycles, the bookmobile, a taxi cab, every single fire engine in town, a marching band, some Shriners, children dropping batons, the haz-mat team, and the local Rastafarians' float.

A. Ybab became enraged by the time the cut-suspension Honda Civics and the public works sand truck glided by. We had to bust our way through the parade route to get home, which meant tangling with a postal worker wearing shorts ("Shorts every day. I'm a bachelor. We don't iron!") until we remembered we could just float down the canal on an abandoned shopping cart. Level-headed thinking saves the day again!

Posted 7:50 PM by Licketysplit

An update on the carpet: breaking news

First, it is not so much a carpet as an area rug that was liberated from the Crate & Barrel outlet for $19.

Second, it is not so much bloodstained as adorned with a quarter-sized splotch of cat barf.

Third, rather than clean it, I am going to take it to be burned.

Fourth, the cat is going into regurgitation rehab if this keeps up. In Wyoming, or some other place that's very far away.

Posted 10:14 AM by Licketysplit

Since you asked, LISA, gosh, nosy much!?

Then there was some sleeping, and some nursing, and more sleeping, and more nursing. Laundry was not folded. Then phone calls were made because someone thinks speakerphone is soooo funny. A ybab yelled at Grandma, who said crazy things. "Well, maybe those veal were raised nicely." Then Mr. H came home. He brought me a present! No, he didn't, but he should have. Now we're having "apple pie," and we plan to watch ANTM. Life is small and precious, no?

Posted 7:54 PM by Licketysplit

Then we received some mail

A ybab did not care to sleep, so we tried to go for a walk. It's jeezly cold out, and the wind is whipping along the river. Old ladies glared at me for daring to take a ybab out. She was wrapped in one of these excellent blankets, and she was wearing her silliest hat.

I was not wearing a hat. I also don't own a winter coat. Mr. H got putty on it last year. The coat drive would not even take it. I can't go try on clothes with a ybab because she hates and hates and hates. So I wrap myself in newspaper. I am turning into my mother. We can't have nice things.

On the way back in, we checked the mail. We received several pieces of junk mail and a bank statement.

Posted 3:13 PM by Licketysplit

And then what happened?

I'm glad you asked. A ybab and I went through the drive-thru at the drugstore to get drugs. Then we went to the deli to buy a lot lot of booze. The deli was mostly out of booze! They are going to convert to a cafe soon. I forgot to RESERVE PIE NOW, and I was all prepared to grub one of their extra pies, but they didn't have any pie at all. That's OK, I can't eat it anyway.

But I can drink a pie! Here is the annual Vomitola.com Free Recipe Giveaway.

Apple Pie
1 part Harpoon Winter Warmer
1 part Cider Jack or other cider. I actually prefer Magner's.

Then I saw a person to whom I was recently introduced. I see this person everywhere now, yet we have no deeper relationship than the first meeting. Hi, hi! Helllooo.

Posted 1:42 PM by Licketysplit

Liveblogging the day

How much beer should I buy for tomorrow? A lot or a lot lot?

Posted 10:43 AM by Licketysplit

But I still love technology

Ray and I feel the same way about fax machines.

Special note: I will be accepting holiday gifts from the Achewood store. I am a woman's size: HOT.

Posted 9:21 AM by Licketysplit

We don't need no stinkin' naps

Today I went to the grocery store to wrestle for the last can of cranberry sauce. I had to hurt a bitch. A ybab (I am sick of all those ybab ads) bit a bitch. OK, she bit me. She bit her dog? I didn't even buy cranberry sauce; it was just fun to play America. No one was in the bulk aisle buying organic quinoa by the pail but me. Why is that? Boy are my relations gonna love a pilaf.

The bagger at the checkout told a ybab that she is too small to be five months old. Well, how do you like that? Demoted by the help! There is no need for science when we have the great natural resource of grocery store advice just waiting to be tapped. Imagine our confusion and need for guidance as a nation, waking up in a world where Michael Richards has just Mel Gibson'ed himself. Down is up, up is down, and there is a tarantula in my bananas.

Oh, and peep this: the plumber came and put the tasteful little "hot" piece of red plastic and brushed metal in the bathroom faucet. Now I know that tap is Hot, as opposed to just knowing it was Not Cold. This divot has only been missing for a year, since we moved in and stuff, but compared to the other random hijinks to which the seller has attended (blood spatter on the counters, exploding circuit breaker box), this was a very small problem. With this problem's small frame, it could curl up in a very small ball.

Posted 5:42 PM by Licketysplit

I've got your advice right here! Hot, steaming advice!

Dear Vomitola,

how do I get bloodstains out of my carpet?

Signed, Newly Single

Dear NS,

It is really tacky that you have a bloody carpet. Consider bamboo flooring.

-V

Dear Vomitola,

don't you have anything better to do?

Signed, Your Conscience

Dear YC,

actually, there are sixteen thousand things I'm supposed to be doing. Other Wife couldn't handle even one day at my house, so she already left. She let the air out of my tires too! However, I can't do these sixteen thousand things because I have a child attached to me at this moment. It is a miracle that I cleaned the shower and had a meal.

-V

OK, here's a real one:

"Ethicist: my coworkers are constantly interrupting me.
If I grunt and look back at my screen, I'm a bitch.
But if I respond and chat, I don't get anything done.
What shall I do?"

The Ethicist replies: You should wear headphones and sing along to whatever is playing. Smile and nod and make "I can't hear you" motions. Smiling is cheerful, so you are not a bitch. May I suggest a little Manilow? Or Pitbull.

Posted 3:45 PM by Licketysplit

Will you plural marry me?

It has come to my attention that Mr. H needs a second wife. He doesn't know it yet, but I think that's just the ticket. Other wife could watch a baby and do all the shopping and the cleaning. Other wife would pay the bills online and remember to buy and send cards for all festive days. Other wife would keep extra birthday presents for a variety of child age ranges in the closet for the occasions when Mr. H accepts an invitation to a friend's child's party and doesn't tell any wives until it's too late to shop. Because I would totally bring the kid a box of thumbtacks or whatever else I found lying around in the office. Other wife would preserve the balance of graciousness in our lives.

Other wife would use a toothbrush to scrub around the faucet in the kitchen. She'd fold underwear so crisply. God, other wife is a saint. She's as beautiful as she is generous. She can speak three languages, and she taught a baby sign language. She'd fill out the customs forms at the post office since I hate doing that. She knows so many ways to prepare quinoa! Her handwriting is also impeccable.

Me, I'll be on the lanai with a delicious smoothie! Other wife remembered the damn bananas at the store!

Posted 8:45 PM by Licketysplit

This is a story about water

Two days ago was the six month anniversary of the flood that forced Mr. H and I out of our home for two weeks. Yesterday is the five month anniversary of Harper's birth. If you do the math, you'll see that meant I was huge and waddling by the time we were flooded.

The morning of May 14th, we were at Mr. H's ancestral abode, Casa de la Carpeted Kitchen, for a Mother's Day brunch. I ate about six croissants. Did I mention I was huge? Everyone was annoying me (fat people are not always jolly), and I started tuning out and flipping through the Sunday paper, where I found this image of the 1936 flood.

The paper reprinted this image: Water covering the Aiken Street bridge

So I knew we were in for it. It had been raining for days, and the river was already high. We were supposed be getting the house ready for baby arrival logistics that day, but instead we milled around whining and deciding what we'd take and how we'd raise the things we couldn't take. We live on the first floor, although our floor is elevated four-five feet off the ground. The worst case scenario from the 1936 flood meant that we'd be totally swamped.

One of my recurring nightmares is "the house is on fire, what do you take? WHAT DO YOU DO, JACK BAUER? WHAT DO YOU DO?" It turns out that you take the cat in a box, important or irritating to replace documents in another box, clothes, toiletries, computer equipment, all the beer in the fridge, photo albums, and important gadgets like your ipod. Everything else is negligible. We put the new living room furniture on top of the new dining room furniture. Other things got stacked on the bed, and still more got crammed in the top closet shelves. I pictured various articles of my clothing floating in waist-deep water. Oh well, I never liked those shoes anyway.

What it looked like when we decided to leave:
Water up to the edge of the river walk behind the building

The next afternoon: We own a private island

After touring my private island, I did the only sensible thing a big fat pregnant lady could do: I cried a lot. For days. I read our insurance policy and realized there was no included flood coverage on personal property, only on the structure. I may have said "I am an asshole!" over and over again while bonking my head against a wall.

We stayed at my in-laws with the cat, sleeping on an air mattress on the floor, but that got uncomfortable very quickly. Like the first night. But we stuck it out for a week before moving to an extended stay hotel. In the meantime, people expected life to go on as usual. I had clients say "Oh hey, I saw your house on the news. Now about those edits..." It took all I could do to not murder several people. I started having contractions and wondering if I would be bringing a newborn back to a Residence Inn. I wasn't eating or sleeping well, to say the least.

By sheer dumb luck, our loft actually wasn't damaged on the inside, although the building sustained over a million dollars worth of damage to the utilities. We were let back in to tour our place and remove more things. Other residents contacted the city, and we were finally allowed free access to the property, although we didn't move back in until hot water and the sprinkler system were restored. This brings us to two weeks before Harper was born.

We spent the next two weeks frantically cleaning up the house. I moved all our worldly goods around a few times, between stop 1 at the in-laws, stop 2 at the hotel, and stop 3 at home again. We went to IKEA and got a changing table. Yeah, like that'll help! The cat went on strike and grew amazing dreadlocks. I think Mr. H and I fought constantly, but I honestly can barely remember.

Next: the big freakout finish.

For the record: I am nothing if not a minimalist when actually going through inconvenience and trauma

Posted 2:17 PM by Licketysplit

Everywhere you look

Suddenly I find myself doing time in Conjunctivitis Junction. Or maybe there's a rare flesh-eating bacteria gnawing on my optic nerve, waiting to get into my brain. I couldn't really say. All I know is that my eye hurts like a mofo, and it's spewing stuff. I am waiting for the "primary care physician" to call me back. I would like to get some ointment and maybe a poultice as well. Oh, and an eyepatch. A white one would be way more fetishy.

I'm also trying to figure out which kindergartener I should string up for giving this to me. I've got my good eye trained on Mumpo, my filthy, filthy nephew. Or is this some vile cross-contamination from the instruments at Kindermusik? As if trying to pretend Littles is interested in overly arranged childrens' ditties isn't bad enough.

Near blinded with pain, I find myself reflecting on karma. The last time I got conjunctivitis, it was my sixteenth birthday, and I called in to school sick. Only to actually find myself blighted by disease. Oh, the unfairness of it all. I still went to driver's ed, because damned if I was going to be stopped from getting my license. The driver's ed instructor liked to make students drive him around, periodically stopping for errands. Mail Boxes Etc., Subway, the dry cleaner, what have you. I made sure to wipe my hands all over the instructor's wheel when he wasn't looking.

If I don't get a call back soon, I'm going to have to treat this the Little House on the Prairie way - a squirt of breastmilk (shaddup, it's antibacterial) and some expired Vicodin.

Posted 9:20 AM by Licketysplit

Of all the gin joints in all the tubes in all the internets

I've had a Gmail address for a long time now, since I am Early McAdopterson. I was able to get my first name, just for the hell of it. Great, right? I don't even use it except for nefarious schemes and my Google Analytics account since I have plenty of other email addresses to wrangle. I receive password change requests at my main email address all the time I dragged myself over to check the box yesterday, and lo, at least four different citizens of the internet feel they are duly entitled to use my address. Just because they can't log in and check their mail doesn't mean they stop giving it out. Frequently, they even sign up for various accounts, allowing me access to their credit cards and home addresses.

A brief history:
August 2005 - Helen K___ of Wallingford, NJ opens a Blockbuster rentals account. She rented The Aviator. She has an American Express card. She also signed up for some "get paid to" sites, and I was able to get her standard password pretty easily (hellgirl, wish I'd thought of that one). I finally get Blockbuster to cancel the account under my email address after a confusing hour with several different reps on the phone.

January 2006 - present - Helene K___ of NY, NY is job hunting. Her resume gets lots of hits from Monster. Too bad she put the wrong damn email address on it. Helene also books a room at the Inn at Saratoga for a Valentine's getaway. Her sister wants to make sure she knows about a $949,000 condo in Park Slope. In June, Helene has a job at a well-known ad agency. She makes sure I get a deck and brief on look and feel for a high profile cellular client. She also makes sure to give me the password to their extranet. Shockingly, she's back to job hunting in October. When I emailed what I deduced was her real email, she wrote back and said "Oh, it happens, people just can't grasp that I have an E in my name." Neither can she, apparently, since she was forwarding all those work emails to herself.

March 2006 - Helen K___ of Athens, Greece signs up for web hosting. I can administer her account if I want. I don't, luckily. She also joins Myspace. I reject all her friends now and then. I stuck a note in her profile to let her know she's attached her account to an email address that doesn't belong to her.

July 2006 - Helen N___ of Piscataway, NJ wants to sell a drum set and posts on Craigslist. I wonder if that ever sold?

Ongoing dead letter office:

Feb 16, from "David"
"Hey, haven't heard from you in a while, but hope all is well with you and
your sis. NY's a tough town for fragile souls . . . :)"

March 6, also from David

"H,

You got another package -- a box this time, but I'm afraid the time has come.
Oslen told me he's not going to accepti any more packages for you. As much
as I love to be your boy, I guess you'll have to find some other use for me
:) I'm good at cooking, but not cleaning.

- D"

The answers usually do come in the mail, except when they don't.

Posted 9:27 PM by Licketysplit

A post about nothing*

[Recently, at the Ministry of Silly Hats]

I have Sunday evening quick-onset dysthymia. Shut up, it's in the DSM-IV. Symptoms include having snippets of that "Always on Sunday" song that was used in an HBO promo severeal years ago stuck in one's head. Ooooon Sunday. Ooooon Sunday, the prospect of a week alone all day wrangling a baby stretches before one**. It's a delicate tightrope act performed while juggling a bear, er, the needs of a tiny human, housework, and work work all at the same time! I've totally caught ADD. Perhaps it is the fault of television? Fold laundry for three minutes, jiggle baby, check email, change diaper, back to laundry, empty dishwasher, dance with baby, prep file for press, bastardize Tears for Fears lyrics by using them in a humorous manner incorporating the actions of a baby, take call and explain that the background noises are an infant, not a kidnapped drifter, pee if I'm lucky.... You get the idea.

Mr. H and little H and I had a loverly three-day weekend, wherein we saw many friends and survived a homecooked meal from his ancestral abode, Casa de la Carpeted Kitchen. Mr. H has a new job, and I am already scheming to get him to abuse working from home. Maybe that way we can both get nothing done! I was born to do nothing. I shouldn't complain.

*Should I retitle this "Dumber than a Boston-area book report? Because that was just so hilarious on Family Guy.

**OK, mainly wrangling a baby between the witching hours of 5-6pm are the issue. She is soothed by speakerphone. Don't be surprised if you get a call.

Posted 8:49 PM by Licketysplit

You must not know about me

I heard a disturbing song on the radio the other day wherein Beyonce throws a dude's stuff out. That's fine. I'm all for throwing a dude's stuff out. He was probably an insolent whelp. Beyonce doesn't have time for trifling.

Then she tells the dude that "I could have another you in a minute," cautioning her lover to always remember he can be easily replaced. Yes, but wouldn't you want to replace the cad who "called up on that chick to see if she is home" with a non-cad? Another him would be an emotional disaster. Has Beyonce not seen Groundhog Day? Apparently not, because she's on and on telling the dude "I will have another you by tomorrow." Nooooo, Beyonce. Break the chains!

I made sure to use this teachable moment to remind a baby that the number one rule of a broken relationship is "always trade up." Just think, I could still be dating a bike messenger if I had played my cards right. He was in a very promising local band that, as promised, is still a local band ten years later. And what "they" say about drummers in bed is totally not true.

Tomorrow: I bring a baby up to speed on taking stylish victim tribute photos.

Posted 6:17 PM by Licketysplit

Where's Waldo?

Today there are lots of new photos over at Mr. H's photo blog. He actually let me touch the camera for a change. Think of it as a really vague, blurry tour of our loft!

Here we have the bedroom.
The dining room.
OK, this one is the local smoothie hut. I don't stack anything on my own shelves that neatly.

Posted 4:50 PM by Licketysplit

And now for something completely different

Dear Internet, I have a confession to make. I love my sprog very, very much. I love that we're a family. It's ooey-gooey, sometimes more gooey than ooey. Sure, it's fun to pretend like I keep her chained up in the utility closet and only allow her out to cook me frittatas, but this is not really the case. Sleep deprivation and 216% increase in typographical errors aside, Mr. H and I can't imagine life without her. I'm psyched to be able to do things like teach her to swear, take her to Japan, and otherwise spoil the living Jebus out of her.

I take everything so hard now. Stories of families and children struggling really affect me. When I hear a child crying in the supermarket, instead of being annoyed, now I think "Pick that baby up and love it, you douche bag." If you're lucky, I'll even lactate. It's a fancy interplay of hormones at work, designed to keep the species alive. No matter how many mp3s and frequent flyer miles I have, I'm still a monkey. Of course this is why I'd rather be a brain in a jar some days, but we can't win 'em all. Sometimes being meat has its privileges. See: hugggggggs!

I know of a family having a really rough time, and I'm going to try something new. I'm donating the November and December revenue from this site to them to help them get back on their feet after some medical setbacks. I'm not sure how much of their story they'd want shared publicly, but I assure you it's a very real and serious situation. So far, I've made enough from your generous clickery to pay a few bills of my own, even though I don't deserve it since all I post about is cheap wine and a baby. But I pledge to post more, and I'll try to come up with more interesting topics. How do we feel about strippers? Do we like cheeses of the world? You tell me.

Posted 3:44 PM by Licketysplit

Hail to the cheese sandwich

How about all that politics and that guy who did that thing? Remember when I cared? The last election cycle sent me onto heavy antidepressants. Although I don't take those anymore, I am still pleasantly dumb thanks to related short term memory loss and the brainfog that comes from all things to do with a baby. Hey! I like socks! Do you? My anti-drug is avoidance.

And WTF is with all you packy-loving sonsofbitches who don't want to buy boxed wine at the same time you pick up your VeganHelper crumbled substance? I hate you! I bet you'll still go to Starbucks, despite all your blah blah about preferring to support local businesses. Knobs. Do you all live in my condo association too*?

In other news, I am trying to craft the perfect bib for a baby to wear to Thanksgiving. I'm thinking of "Don't feed me. My mommy bites." Or maybe "Don't feed me. You had your chance to make your own kids fat." A baby is still too young to eat food, but I know an entire branch of the family tree can't wait to hand her something delectably allergenic. I think performing the infant heimlich would be a great holiday diversion. Didja get the vidier camra?

*A baby and I compromised and signed the rudest neighbor up for casual encounters ads on Craigslist. You: must have own python.

Posted 5:52 PM by Licketysplit

I'm voting for this cheese sandwich

No, I'm voting for the person who called my house with the least amount of recorded messages. No, that would be bad. I'm voting for the person with the funniest commercials. No, he's pro death penalty and has his own smorgasboard of crackpot ideas to boot. I guess I will vote for Deval Patrick and close my eyes and pretend he's Barack Obama. Or Bill Clinton. Voting for Bill Clinton was so fun! Politics = totes not fun now.

Or I will skip voting in the governor's race at all and turn my attention to my own pet cause, Wine at Grocery Stores. I already live near a lawless New Hampshire border town, so I can go buy all the damn wine I want at a grocery store. And that would be a lot of wine. We switched to Wine Block to economize. The grocery store carries the yellow box, the pink box, and the red box. The rest of the state should enjoy similar privilege.

I still haven't made up my mind on the ballot question that has something to do with childcare. I have a child, so that might one day affect me, if she didn't incinerate babysitters with the power of her mind. John Kerry says I should vote for whatever the question is, but my sister-in-law's home daycare provider who has a yard full of stray insulation rolls and auto parts says I should not vote for it. Dammit, I am going to have to read something to get to the bottom of this, aren't I?

Naw, I'll just let a baby vote. I knew there was some reason we keep her around. She's getting good at typing, and she ate my grocery list the other day. I have to go lie down with my wine block and a curly straw.

Posted 10:45 AM by Licketysplit

Apparently

Toting a baby around in a sack around my neck while in a store incites adults to make ridiculous faces. Do we know peek-a-boo? Do we? No, we care not for your antics. We care for 88% dark chocolate and being able to buy all the wine we want in grocery stores. A baby got me a sample of sushi. She would have been better served to get me a free eyebrow waxing, considering she has to look at me. She also got us invited to crash the express lane. I am like that awful boll weevil with the sense of entitlement. Except I don't have one at all. I am as surprised as the next beetle. Honest.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have stop a baby from leaving rakes subtly angled next to the parking spots of neighbors.

Posted 5:02 PM by Licketysplit

This year, I am thankful that Pharrell gave us something to bump to

Pharrell is like the Great Pumpkin, I think.

Secret confession: I am the lady driving around in the Saab wagon with the duct-taped in windshield with the hip hop station blasting. A baby likes it better than all other forms of musical entertainment.

Now, I have an ethical dilemma. Ethicist, a baby went on the Google and found the very embarassing personal ad of the head troll from the condo association Yahoo! group. This troll recently lobbied for the installation of stockades in the lobby for the person who left trash next to the trash chute. This troll makes statements like "Didn't this yahoo learn anything in kindergarten?"

How did a baby know this person was single? A wretchedly abrasive personality is never a non-starter when it comes to coupling. A baby has a lot to learn. There is some awful person out there for everyone, and the Internet is a uniter, not a divider.

But here's the problem: a baby thinks I should print out the ad and plaster it liberally about the lobby. I think this is a good idea, but perhaps not environmentally sound. I think I should make a gmail address and email a PDF around instead. You see how we are at odds. A baby offered the compromise that we should do the printing on recycled paper, with vegetable-based inks, and only put the flyers on car windshields in the parking lot instead of all over the lobby. WWYD?

Posted 12:42 PM by Licketysplit