Important World Issues

Do you read Cosmo? I did in a past life and now I find the publication to be, well, exhausting. So much to keep up with. Did you know that your "Hoo-Ha" (their phrase) needed its own handbook? Well, neither did I, and now I have one more thing to add to my to-do list, which is already plenty long.

Do you read www.gofugyourself.com? You should, it is a riot. I have to say I do enjoy Amanda Bynes. I think she is fresh-looking and adorable, and I have never come across photos of her on the Internet that only her gynecologist should be privy to. Obviously her Hoo-Ha has read the handbook on how to be polite in public even though it is associated with a young Hollywood starlet. Good for it. To those other stars without such discerning Hoo-Has, you should be ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES and DIDN'T YOUR MOTHERS TELL YOU TO ALWAYS WEAR UNDERWEAR WHEN YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE?! ESPECIALLY WITH SKIRTS THE SIZE OF NAPKINS!? NOT OPTIONAL, LADIES. IT IS LIKE WEARING SHOES. TAKE THAT TO HEART. PLEASE. Someone should start a foundation to address the growing epidemic of wayward Hollywood Hoo-Has, and if you do, feel free to steal that phrase as a name for your charity.

Which brings me to my next point, I spit coffee on the monitor this morning after I read the second paragraph from www.gofugyourself.com, below. Fair Warning: If the word "vagina" or slang lingo thereabout offends you in any way, then I suggest you stop reading now and delete me from your Facebook friend list. Things would never have worked out between us and frankly, I am sure I find your status updates boring.

[Required Lawyer Copyright Warning: Italicized text lifted from http://www.gofugyourself.com/. Their words, not mine. I am not this witty.]

Fug the Cover: Amanda Bynes

I...have so many words about this cover. First, she's wearing my jeans from '93. Second, as one of the many readers who emailed us about this pointed out, she's wearing Pamela Anderson's face from '96. I must add that she's also wearing Pamela Anderson Lee's wig from '95, and Marie Antoinette neck's from 1794, otherwise known as none.

Third, according to this cover, now I have to get a sexy VAGINA? Are you SERIOUS? SERIOUSLY, COSMO, ARE YOU SERIOUS? Worrying that your vagina is not sufficiently sexy is like being concerned that your ear drums are flabby: IT IS RIDICULOUS. Don't we have enough to worry about -- unemployment, teen pregnancy, insufficiently voluminous hair, and the possible resurgence of clogs -- without being told we need to be sitting around wondering if our vagina looks frumpy? STOP THE MOTHERF' ING MADNESS. EVERYONE'S VAGINA IS FINE. WORRY ABOUT THE CLOGS.

And the fact that Amanda Bynes is now a Botoxed 42 year old Malibu matron who is totally wearing Uggs with those jeans.

Off topic: I am totally wearing Uggs right now with my pajama bottoms, mainly due to the fact that my husband thought he could fix the malfunctioning furnace last night. With two Q-tips. You may be shocked to learn it did not work. I could not help with this project because I was busy compiling my Hoo-Ha to-do list, which took hours.

Speaking of the bajingo, I will now share a holiday story from this weekend that warms the cold, dark cockles of my very heart. It snowed this weekend, Ethan had rain boots from the fall, but not warm snow boots to play outside in. There are several friends of mine that just read this sentence about my child's lack of snow footwear and are clutching their chests in pain. Their children have had appropriate snow gear since August, and it is color-coded, and sorted by size (*March snow gear will be one size larger than December). Should the Iditarod dog sled team call because one of the dog handlers dropped out, then such moms could rest assured that their children could fill in and mush with the artic hounds for three weeks in -22 degree weather without so much as suffering a snip of frost nip on their little toes. I concede it is good to be prepared. But how does this relate to the subject of vaginas, you ask? I am getting there ...

I am not that Iditarod-inclined Mom. But, I do feel better that I was apparently not the only mom in Maryland to discover that the winter closet coffers ran empty when confronted with actual snow on the ground. There was a run on boots in our area as the flakes were fluttering downward, judging by the barren boot aisles at three separate Targets, one Kohl's and one Old Navy. I knew desperate times called for drastic measures. Are you ready for this?

payless. Shh.

Your eyes do not deceive you. Payless. OK?

PAYLESS!

I was there, and I am proud. Well, I was there.

For the sake of my child's snowy enjoyment, I summoned an inner strength I did not know I had to withstand the overwhelming aroma of fake leather made in China and hundreds of sweaty children feet, and bravely navigated the Payless children's boot aisle. Along with fifty other (slack) parents and their delightfully well-behaved and quiet little sprites.

I discovered two pairs of children's snow boots still left on the rack and was delighted that my mission was not for naught. Only two pairs of boys' snow boots remained for the taking in the entire store; one pair black pleather with red cars, one pair black pleather and mostly plain. Another mom and I both had our eyes on the plain boots. I knew Ethan would tolerate pleather, but knew the car decals would be considered tragically uncool, and he'd have none of it. All of this was running through my mind as I reached for the plain boots at the exact same time as that other mom. We will call her The Lady On Left.

My finely-honed shopping reflexes were just one hair faster than hers. The result of the epic Payless Boot Duel 2009 was that The Lady On Left stood sadly looking at the pair of car boots, while Lady On Right (me) had possession of the plain pair. Lady On Left's adorable little pixie took one look and declared the red car boots "soooo disgusting", so patently offensive, that he refused to even try them on his cute little feet. Lady On Left looked at me and asked if I was planning to buy the plain pair I now held in my hands. Lady On Right (me) responded that (she) I was.

Lady On Left felt that The Universe owed her child a plain pair of pleather boots and here I was upsetting That Universal Master Plan. She was displeased at my audacity, so much so that she could not contain her ire, and wanted to eloquently convey to me how fundamentally unfair she found this development.

This is where we get interactive, readers. I know it is now Tuesday, but it might as well be Monday, since we have all had long holiday weekends involving champagne and neighborhood parties and that creepy weirdo named "Newman" hitting on you by telling you "how he lives alone in his 4,300 square foot house and has a hot tub" while his estranged/not-yet-ex wife glares at you from across the platter of cocktail wieners and scallops-wrapped-in-bacon and you wonder where your husband went because is it not true, ladies, that we all got married so we would never have to have another conversation at a party with the Newmans of the world? He is the cousin to the guy at the gym that wears one-size-too-small yellow Viagra t-shirts and Umbros and tells you, "You look good in those pants ...ya know, for being a mom and all!" I think his name is Bernie. Anyhow ...

Brace yourselves, it is now interactive game time, and I have faith you can keep up. Ready for a fun fill-in-the-blank the whole family can enjoy? Print this out and sit down with your small children because this is an important lesson. When it became apparent I was not relinquishing the boots she wanted, The Lady On Left called me a "C - - - [ rhymes with blunt!]" The three small children she had in tow were, I am certain, pleased to add a new word to their, no doubt, already dignified vocabularies.

It is just a word, I know, but allow me a sentence or two on semantics. If THAT particular word (*rhymes with blunt!) DOES NOT offend you, then please delete me from your Facebook friend list. Things never would have worked out between us and frankly, I am sure I find your status updates scary.

Since it was difficult to hear over the crowd of shoppers and the din of children and the strains of Silent Night on the store radio, I thought she might have misspoke. So I said, stupidly, "What?" She repeated it again, much louder this time. Which I thought was just plain thoughtful. Because what if I had been hard of hearing? Really, what is being a mom about if not a series of teaching moments? Because I would like to think she was using this chance to teach her children about disability awareness. "See, kids, maybe this lady holding the boots cannot hear very well, so we need to use a louder voice when calling her filthy names in public to make sure she does! It is all about respect for others!"

In order to foster some holiday peace and love, I will assume that her ultimate goal in this exchange was demonstrating tolerance and consideration to her little children. Because otherwise, I am left thinking this woman is just a giant bajingo (rhymes with blunt!), and that is just not very Christmas Spirit-y of me.