Double the Shopping Fun!

I LOVE shopping for baby gifts! And I'm twice as happy to shop this time, since my friend Jackie has had TWINS!

I'm looking for something unique: something they won't get from other friends. But, I also want my gift to be functional and fun.

The Nosefrieda was an obvious choice. For those of you unaware of this unique "tool", it allows parents to suck mucus out of infants' noses with a straw. It's definitely unique and functional.

But then again, I really want to find something that the babies can play with, not the parents.

Likewise, I considered purchasing the Windi, the "baby bottom burper". It's designed to help colicky babies release wind. Not to be confused with a tampon (although it does resemble one), the Windi is a single use catheter that is inserted into the baby's butt to relieve gas.

And, BTW, the Windi gets great reviews on Amazon. One user called it "The Magic Butt Vent" . Another wrote, "The Windi works pretty much like a thermometer and relief is quick, the air flies out, ... be prepared for other "stuff" to come out as well!"

But I'm afraid, they may already have one of those.

Plus, it's nice to get something that the babies can use when they're a little older...something they won't out-grow.

So, I kept on looking until I found the perfect gift for the on-the-go family: My Pee-Pee Bottle.

My Pee-Pee Bottle  is designed to protect a child from a dirty public restroom experience and makes it a bit easier for the parent and their child when it's time to "pee pee".

And the best part is that you can personalize your Pee Pee Bottle!

It would be irresponsible for me not to point out this important product warning from the My Pee Pee Bottle web site: Do not allow the child to put the bottle or caps in his or her mouth. 

OMG! I just thought of something else! I am a stinkin' Marketing genius.

Although this product is targeted for toddlers, there's no reason kids can't use their Pee Pee Bottles throughout their teen years. They can easily fit into a back pack.  

The nerdling wheels are beginning to turn.  I could market a Justin Bieber Pee Pee Bottle!  A Hunger Games Pee Pee Bottle !  The list goes on and on!

Plus, this product could fit nicely in my mall kiosk. I'll place it right between the Stadium Gal and the Go Girl!

I'm pretty sure I'm going to go with the Pee Pee Bottles for the baby gift. But I have a back-up plan, in case they're sold out.

The Zing Spoon!

I think I'll order 4. The whole family can play!

Sit on them Too!

I shouldn't have been surprised at the Oppai Pillow. I mean, it was for sale on the same web site that sells products like the Shouting Vase, the Beauty Voice Trainer, and the Beauty Lift High Nose.

No, I should not have been the least bit shocked to see a pillow shaped like the torso of a well developed female on the Japan Trend Shop web site.

I read the product description:

Resting your head on a gentle, yielding, giant bosom is a pleasure no one should be without. This Oppai Pillow is made of soft memory foam, for the perfect combination of supple and supportive. Not only is it the only pillow you'll ever need, but you can also use it as a cushion- you can have your breasts and sit on them, too!

Wow!  I can have my breasts and sit on them, too!

But, come on!  $79 for a boob pillow? 

That's way out of my budget. Especially when I can make my own: my extra cushy Nerdling version of the Oppai Pillow.

All I needed was a bra. And if I wanted my Nerdling Oppai Pillow to be exceptionally cushy, the bra had to be barn sized.

(At the risk of shocking my readers, none of the women in my household own barn-sized bras.)

Much to my disappointment, the Dollar Store does not sell lingerie.  So I headed off to GoodWill to check out their inventory. Nothing.

But WalMart did not disappoint me.  They carried a wide variety of triple letter bra sizes.  I purchased a very lovely model that fit perfectly on my pillow!

It not only looked great on the bed, but also on the chair in the family room.  Martha Stewart would be so proud.

And it only cost $9.00!

The problem came when I decided to test drive the Nerdling Oppai Pillow. 

You see, it completely creeped me out. 

You could give me the cushiest 42 DD WalMart stuffed bra in the universe and I wouldn't be able to relax in it.

Unless...

OMG.

 I am a stinkin' Marketing Genius.

Introducing the Nerdling Oppai Pillow with Wine Rack! 

Available soon at a mall kiosk near you.

Vacuum Reincarnation

It's hard not to be smug.

When my Kirby died last summer, it caused a good deal of tension in my marriage.

Dave broke her.  He claims she just "stopped working."  But HE was the one using her when she took her last breath.

On top of that, although Kirby had been with us for nearly 15 years, Dave did not take any extraordinary measures to revive her. It was as if she had been wearing a big, fat  D.N.R. tag on her toe!

But the very worst part was that Dave replaced her before her body grew cold. There was a brand new Wind Tunnel sitting in Kirby's closet when I got home from work on that dreaded day.

I tried my best to revive poor Kirby, but too much time had elapsed. 

I was not ready to let go.  I needed to grieve for a while, so I parked Kirby's body in the garage, where I could see and remember her. Occasionally I would stroke her head as I walked by, where she stood, humiliated, next to the ping pong table.

Meanwhile, the younger, "more attractive" Wind Tunnel attempted to take Kirby's place sucking up dirt in the house.  

But she sucked at sucking.

You see, when I got home from work on Tuesday, Dave told me that the Wind Tunnel had broken.

"Already? It's only about 9 months old!" I said. "Kirby lasted 15 years before you killed her."

"Don't tell me you STILL think I had something to do that stupid vacuum cleaner breaking!"

"She got old and you wanted a younger model. You put her out to pasture," I said.

I held back my tears.

"Is that what you're going to do with me?" I asked.

Dave just shook his head.

I volunteered to drop the broken vacuum off at the repair store.

But I didn't say which one.

I loaded Kirby into the back seat of my car and drove her to the hospital...I mean the repair shop.

And guess what! For $50 they're going to make Kirby just like new! It's a combination heart transplant / face lift, I believe.

So, as I said, it's hard not to be smug about the whole situation.  But I won't gloat.  

Kevin is taking it hard.  Apparently, he had a crush on the bitch.

The Cat in the Hat

It's taken me 18 months to be able to tell this story. The psychological scars run deep.  It's my hope that writing about that day will help the healing process.  

That is, if I can get through it.

My daughter Kimmy and I were in London having lunch at a very refined restaurant near the theatre district that day.  We were seated at a table over-looking the sidewalk.

Deep breath.  I can do it.

Our food had just arrived. I believe I was eating pizza, but I can't quite remember, since one side-effect of the P.T.S.S. (post-traumatic stress syndrome) was memory loss.

I remember looking out the window and noticing pigeons wandering around the feet of the outdoor diners.

"I hate pigeons," I told Kimmy. "They are filthy disgusting birds. They give me the creeps."

The words had barely left my tongue when the biggest, ugliest pigeon (let's call him "Voldemort"- since we were in England) turned it's sinister head in my direction, and looked me right in the eye.

"OMG.  That big one is looking at me.  I'm losing my appetite," I told Kimmy. 

I can do this.

What happened next may have been a coincidence.

I think not.

I was cutting a piece of my pizza, completely off guard, when I heard the front door open. The next thing I knew Voldemort was styling my hair with his talons.

I screamed. 

Like a 10 year old girl. 

Kimmy ran away from the table as Voldemort finished up and went under the table.

The other diners looked over at me, oblivious of the ambush, and began whispering: 

"What is that dotty American screaming about?"  

"Whatever could be the matter with that woman?" 

"What an unusual hair style!" 

 A waiter came over and asked if I needed assistance.

I pointed under the table.

"Did you drop something, my dear?"

I managed to spit it out. "A p-p-p-pigeon! He attacked me. He's under the t-t-t-table."

I cowered at the other side of the restaurant as the waiter rounded up Voldemort with a table cloth and released him outside.

And that's the end of my story.

There.  I do feel better.

I'm not going to let any stinkin' pigeon get the better of me.  Nope.  

 

I'm getting me one of these. 

Turning and Spinning....Turning and Spinning

I never thought I’d need Dramamine for a play.

We've begun dance rehearsals for Grease, and we're learning those fun 50's partner dances like the Cha Cha and the Lindy Swing. You know...the ones they did on American Bandstand with all the turning and spinning. And the turning and spinning. Did I mention the turning and spinning?

I’m a wee bit worried about history repeating itself.

I’m referring to the infamous wedding scene from Fiddler on the Roof a couple years ago. During the very emotional wedding vows and the heartfelt  “Sunrise Sunset” one of the younger girls (let’s call her “Patty”) lost her cookies. Not once. Not twice. Three times.

Patty puked volumes.

I was on stage at the time and remember thinking, “What is that noise?"  It sounded like bucket of water had been poured from a 10 foot ladder.

Then the smell began to waft in my direction and I had to suppress the urge to join in with Patty’s puking. All I could think about was that, at the end of the song, we were choreographed to dance (with our street length costumes) up and down, back and forth across the stage. Exactly where Patty’s puke prevailed.

You’ve heard of the "Miracle on 34th Street", right? Well, this was the “Miracle on Bull Street.” By the time the wedding glasses were smashed and the Mazeltovs were said, the puke had been cleaned up by a cast member to whom I will be forever indebted.

 Seriously.

I am bound and determined to prevent a “Fiddler Purge” from occurring on the stage of Grease. To that end, I have developed a new product concept.

I haven’t yet worked out the mechanics, but it will most likely involve a funnel and a tube. My preliminary design had the tube emptying into a collection box that would sit next to the dancer’s mic pack.

But you know me. I am a genius at marketing innovation and am constantly looking for ways to raise the bar. To that end, I have developed an alternative design which seems extremely promising!

A reverse Wine Rack.

Admittedly, I have to work through the costume implications, for the dancer’s bra size would increase as it fills, causing costume stress. But it’s better than the alternative: costume mess.

(For those who have not heard of the Wine Rack, it is a sports bra that discretely dispenses wine through a rubber straw. Read the blog to the left of this posting.)

But the more I think about it, and the physics of vomit propulsion, it may be even most effective if the puker’s dance partner were to wear the funnel....or the Reverse Wine Rack.

Now that would be true collaboration.

I can’t wait to pitch this idea to the Director.

No pun intended.

It's In Atlanta But It's Gone

I walked into HH Gregg, the appliance store, not sure if our refrigerator was actually broken. About 2 hours earlier, Dave had noticed that the freezer was not functioning.  He "tried to fix it by pushing some buttons." 

I was not optimistic.   Only time would tell. 

I told the HH Gregg sales lady (let's call her "Gladys") that I'd found a KitchenAid refrigerator that I liked on their web site, and I wanted to meet it in person.  Gladys told me that they did not stock that model.

Then Gladys got on a computer, found the fridge and said, "Oh look! There's one in Atlanta! They can get it to your house tomorrow!"

I said, "But we don't even know if our fridge is broken."

Gladys closed her eyes for several seconds, as if trying to suppress tears.  

Then she said with a great sigh, "Oh well,....they have one in Atlanta, but it's gone."

 "What do you mean it's gone? It's there now, right?"  I was starting to get confused.

"Yes, but it's probably gone now. "

"But it was there 30 seconds ago, wasn't it?" I responded, beginning to panic. "Can you call and see if it's in Atlanta now?"

"Sure!" Gladys perked up. "And if you order it now, it will get delivered to your home tomorrow!!!"

"But we don't even know if our fridge is broken," I said, snapping out of Gladys' sales spell even more confused.

"Well, there's one in Atlanta, but it's gone."

Gladys was beginning to sound like a broken record.

I decided I needed to look more closely at the fridge that was in such demand it may or may not have been gone from Atlanta. I mean, I had been looking at things like price, and would it fit in my kitchen. I wondered if it had an ice maker, and what the shelves were like.

We walked to the counter and Gladys asked another employee (let's call him "Stanley") to pull up the fridge on his computer and show it to me. She said to Stanley, "She doesn't want to order this until tomorrow. They have one in Atlanta but it's gone." 

Stanley looked at me, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he turned his monitor in my direction so I could see exactly what I was missing: what was in Atlanta but now gone.  

His computer screen may as well have been in Atlanta for all I could see of it.  

 I was beginning to get irritated. "I'm sorry, but I didn't bring my binoculars," I snapped, as I squinted, trying to envision the screen 15 feet away.

For crying out loud! Maybe I had unrealistic expectations, but I had hoped Gladys could look at the stinkin' fridge I'd found online and show me a comparable one! And maybe even tell me the benefits of the one I found vs. the 25 others they did have in stock.

Instead, all she could say was, "They have one in Atlanta but it's gone."

I had had just about enough.

With every ounce of drama I could muster, I started for the door. "Really... they have one in Atlanta but it's gone? Oh no! A KitchenAid Crime! Let's call the stinking refrigerator police! They'll find it! Maybe they can call in a freakin' flatfoot fridge special agent." I left the store feeling fulfilled.

I showed them! They couldn't pull one over on me.

Then I realized that I'd left my keys on the counter where Gladys and Stanley were undoubtedly discussing the crazy red-head who just doesn't understand the simple laws of supply and demand.

If I'd left something less integral to my get-away (say a pair of sunglasses or a Diet Coke), I would have continued on my way, sacrificing the asset.

But I could not get home without my car keys.

I nonchalantly slithered back into the store. Remaining in stealth mode, I grab the keys, not unlike a famished frog snapping up an unsuspecting fly.

Guess what.

My fridge is working today. So, it's a good thing I didn't order that KitchenAid fridge from Gladys.

But then again, I never could have done that.

You see, it was in Atlanta but was gone.