Waiting for the Contribution

I read my friend's Facebook posting. Twice.

“Kiersten just used the potty for the first time yeah!!! These new potties have music so she was tickled"

Blog topic?

I googled "musical potty chairs". And there it was. The Cheer For Me Potty!

OMG! Check this out!

The realistic yet whimsical toilet look familiarizes the child with a real toilet that includes a flush handle, a toilet paper roller, a fully functioning seat with lid.

I’m getting goose bumps!  But there’s more!

The potty responds to the child's actions in many ways with phrases, music, and sound effects. Your child will hear a response or encouragement when:

* the seat lid is opened and closed

* the flusher is pulled

* the toilet paper roll is spun

* when the child sits

* and most importantly when the child makes a "contribution."

Wait a minute.

I cannot tell you how many hours I spent sitting on the edge of the bathtub waiting for contributions from my daughters, as they sat on our boring potty chair. The one with no bells and whistles.

(This is not me in the photo, nor is it Kimmy or Linda.  It is someone pretending to be us.)

Oh, how I sat. Reading them books. Begging them.  Bribing them. Threatening them.   

I never claimed to be the mother of the year.

Waiting and waiting and waiting. For the contribution.

Crap!  (pun intended) Where was this Cheer For Me Potty when I needed it?

It even sings a song!

Toilet paper, toilet paper
,

on a roll next to me


I can have a few squares


Maybe one or two squares
.

How about three?

Maybe potty training would have been more effective had I sung to my children while they were on our boring potty chair. 

I can hear it now.... ,“Tinkle tinkle little Kimmy...."

“Mommy stop singing! I can’t go while you’re singing.”

But I’m way smarter than a 2 year old: a stinkin' parental genius. 

“I’ll stop singing when you make your contribution.”

Yeah.  Who needs a Cheer For Me Potty, anyhow?

Aging Gracelessly

I look pretty doggone good in the mirror. Not a blemish or wrinkle on my face! It's almost like my image has been airbrushed.

You know why?

Because I don't wear my reading glasses when I'm looking in the mirror.

So I have been pretty stinkin' ignorant about my aesthetic flaws. That is, until I visited my sister last weekend.

Let's just say that Jean Anne no longer enjoys the status of being the oldest of six siblings. You see, by virtue of being the "most experienced", she gets to lead the rest of us into new, exciting decades. Believe me.  She is not at all happy with this role.  And, unfortunately, Jean Anne does not wear reading glasses.  

"Hey Loulie, are you getting stray hairs popping up on your chin? Dont' you hate them??!"
I said, "No, I haven't had any."
"What?" she said in complete disbelief. "Yes, you do! You must!"
So I reluctantly put on my reading glasses and went to the mirror. "I don't have any."
"No way!," she insisted, sneaking up next to me.
"AHA!" she said, pointing to my upper lip. "You have some peach fuzz!"

Later in the day she asked, "Do you ever wear skirts anymore?"

"Yes. Nearly every day," I responded, clearly caught off guard.
"Do you really?" she said, appalled. "What about the sagging skin on your legs?"
I put on my reading glasses and sadly looked down at my sagging leg skin and nodded. 

"Do you have any wine to go with my peach fuzz and sagging leg skin?" I asked. 

"I never wear short sleeves anymore, either," she added.
I looked at her twiggy arms in disbelief. "Why not?"
"LOOK AT MY ARM CELLULITE!"
"Where? Are you nuts? Who has cellulite on their arms?" I asked.
She handed me my reading glasses. "Go look. You'll see who has cellulite on her arms," she responded, knowingly. 

"NO!" I said.  "I refuse to look for arm cellulite. Where's the wine?"

Later we took pictures of ourselves so we could try out virtual haircuts on the internet. "OMG!" Jean Anne said! "My waddle is showing? Why doesn't your picture have a waddle?" 
"Maybe because I don't have one," I said, refusing to engage in any more of this nonsense.  
"Yeah you do," she said as she gently nudged the skin under my chin into motion.

"Step away from my waddle," I said woefully, as I finished my glass of wine.

Just 24 hours earlier I had been perfectly content, unaware of the fact that I was falling apart at the seams: full of saggy skin, a waddling waddle, not to mention the peach fuzz on my face. And I probably had cellulite growing out of control on my arms.

I had to check.

I grabbed my reading glasses and headed into the bathroom. I turned on every light I could find and rolled my sleeves up to my armpits. And guess what?

No arm cellulite.

I walked back into the the living room, and smugly raised my wine glass in the air with my cellulite-free arm and said, "Here's to aging gracefully!"

Another Toto-Lee Ridiculous Japanese Product

)

I must be missing something.

Don't get me wrong.  I know that dealing with unsanitary bathrooms is nasty business.

But we already have 4 excellent alternatives for dealing with treacherous toilets!  

First there's the The TSH (toilet seat hover- pictured at right).  And if your thighs aren't up for a TSH workout (or perhaps you are flying in turbulent conditions), you could attempt toilet seat origami (covering the toilet seat with TP).   

And don't forget about the two more ingenious alternatives, each of which I have previously blogged about:  The GoGirl portable urinary device for women (http://notesfromanerdling.blogspot.com/2011/05/wake-me-up-before-i-gogirl.html)

And for those of you who don’t mind having a urine filled catheter velcroed to the inside of your thigh, The Stadium Gal (http://notesfromanerdling.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-gal.html)

So I ask you this.  With all these potential options for putrid potties, why would anyone need a portable electric bidet?

Nah. I’ll pass.

Here’s what the Japan Trend Shop says about the Toto Travel Washlet:

Never fear unknown bathrooms again with the TOTO Travel Bidet. If you've become accustomed to the luxury of Japan's automatic washing toilets, it can be hard to deal with unsanitary bathrooms elsewhere in the world. How do you know the toilet paper is clean?

Hold it right there. "How do I know toilet paper is clean?"  

Listen, I’ve got enough crap to worry about (no pun intended)!  Please don’t introduce another irrational fear to my long list of "watch out fors".

According to the advertising materials, the Toto Travel Bidet has an “electric steam operation.” 

Hold it right there. Again. Is it just me, or would anyone else be a bit uneasy about any kind of electric steam operating anywhere around your….um…toilet areas?  

Wait!  There's more!  The Toto Travel Bidet has an adjustable strength stream, with both 3 hole and 5 hole options, which, kind of.…well, I’d just better not go there.

The main thing I don’t get about the Toto Travel Bidet is that it appears you have to be in sitting position, with your pants down, to operate the tool.   

Am I missing something?  If you are in an unsanitary bathroom, just where would you sit to operate the Toto Travel Bidet?  Say, for example, the Delta Airlines bathroom was not up to your sanitary standards.  Will you take your Toto Travel Bidet back to seat 35C to restore your...um...toilet areas to the pre-lavatory trip standards?

Nah.  This isn't for me.  Just give me a good old fashioned Stadium Gal and I'll be happy.

Going Gangsta

"There's a lot of good Rap music with good messages," my daughter Linda was explaining to me in the car.

I rolled my eyes, all the while keeping them on the road. (That's how good of a driver I am.)

"But it's not singing!" I said. "Rap is more like acting. All they do is read words to monotonous music."

That's when I went out on the limb. Precariously far out.

"In fact, I could do Rap! Easy."

And that's how I became a middle-aged white female Gangsta Rap artist.

I know this will shock you, but it took less than 15 minutes to write The Multicollinearity Rap. Linda found the background music and I was ready to produce my first video.

Except I needed the right look. I put beads in my hair and a do-rag on my head. Then I threw on an over-sized t-shirt. I'm not sure whether it was the pastel beads or the flowers on the do-rag, but It just wasn't working. 

It wasn't Gangsta enough. 

I tried my Buffalo Bills baseball hat - backwards and forward.  Nope.  I still looked like a middle-aged white chick trying to look like a Gangsta Rap artist.

Then I found Dave's hoodie. Perfect. It was time to produce the video. Since I didn't have my rap song memorized, I had to read it off paper. 

"Mom!  You can't wear your reading glasses!" Linda said.  "You look like a librarian!"  

And she was right.  They distracted from my Gangsta look.

So instead, I printed out The Multicollinearity Rap in size 48 font so I could read it without glasses.  

And here it is:

Thank you.

It's already gone viral. I have 33 views!

Keep in mind that Justin Bieber was discovered via a You-Tube video. And I'm probably next.   Don't worry.  I will never forget my loyal readers after my Gangsta Rap career is propelled to the next level.

Maybe my tour will stop in Columbia. 

And I can return to the hood and see my homies.

Costume Conundrum

Famous last words: 
"Look how good my orange and green striped sneakers look with my pajama pants!"  

Dave and I were on our way to my secretary's 70's theme party.  I just assumed it was at her house, but the GPS was taking us to...where? 

W.T.H.?  

"HOLY CRAP!" I told Dave. "This isn't Bettye's house.  It's her church!"

I really messed up this time.  (I think I've been spending too much time with my theater friends.)

We pulled into the parking lot and noticed guests getting out of their cars. They were not dressed up in 70's costumes. They were wearing church clothes. From 2012.

"Are you sure you were supposed to dress up?" Dave asked, clearly amused.  I wasn't (amused).

We walked into the church hall, which was overflowing with members of Bettye's predominantly African American church.  Everyone was dressed to the 9's.  And only one person was wearing pajama pants.

Me.

And the guests who were wearing 70's costumes, were wearing hip, fancy and stylin' 70's apparel.

There I was wearing my "peace and love" pajama pants. And a tie died shirt that slipped off my shoulders revealing a matching green Ahh Bra. And my orange and green striped sneakers.

I looked like I stepped out of the 70's, alright: out of a bad Jimi Hendrix acid trip.

I managed to find some familiar faces at a table, two of whom were in costume. Elle was dressed as an adorable Annie Hall and Patty was wearing a cute 70's party dress. I sat down and joined them in my PJs.

"I thought you guys were wearing tie die shirts!"   I said to Patty with disgust. "I look like I just left Good Will!"

I tried my best to blend into the scenery.  Then they announced the costume parade.

What a conundrum.

If I joined the costume parade, everyone would see my "costume".  But If I didn't join the costume parade, they might suspect that I always dressed that way.

So, reluctantly, I got in line.  The DJ lady announced my name and I swear I heard rumblings, "That's Bettye's boss? Is she wearing pajamas?"

But then I decided to make the most of it. I strut my 70's stuff like there was no tomorrow.  When I got to the front of the stage I performed some of my best Body Jam moves.

"Yep, that's her boss alright. And I thought Bettye was exaggerating."

Maybe Next Time, Groupon

Um.

I don’t think so.

Let me start by saying that I’m the first person to buy a Groupon or a Living Social deal. $10 for $20 worth of cupcakes? Count me in! $15 for $30 worth of Mexican food and margaritas? Let me pull out my credit card!

But $29 for $200 worth of CrossFit or Kettlebell sessions? At an 86% discount?

Are you stinkin' crazy?

Look at that photo! I need to schedule a massage as a result of LOOKING at that thing.

It looks like a weapon Conan the Barbarian or some other medieval fighter would flail around in a battle between the Trojans and the Hatfields.

And what the heck am I supposed to do with a Kettlebell? Lift it up? Again and again?

Kettlebell, my foot.

How about KettleHELL?

Who invented that thing, anyhow? Adolph Hitler? Mussolini? And why would anyone want to lift it?

Well, maybe if there was $1,000 underneath it. 

Or tickets to a Broadway play.

According to Groupon, my time is running out.  I only have 1 day, 13:22:21…20…19..18. seconds left to buy my Kettlebell Groupon.

Well, guess what, Groupon.  Ain’t gonna happen. 

 If I’m lifting anything, it’s gonna be Marble Slab ice cream cone. 

Or a glass of wine.

Test Driving Tresses

I'm thinking about getting my hair cut. Short.

I've had the same "hairstyle" for years. And I use that term loosely.  Regardless of how I leave the house, my hair is in a pony tail within an hour.

And both of my daughters think cutting my hair short is a horrible idea. Although they didn't specifically use the word "hag", their message was clear.

Then I had the most scathingly brilliant idea EVER.

I went to one of those websites where you can upload a photo and it will superimpose various haircuts on you, so you know exactly what to expect.

Here's how I'd look with a Jennifer Hudson hairdo (and some breast implants).

Wait a minute. I just realized that I wasn't supposed to smile in my photo. 

I started over, with a new mug shot. (I am not going to share that image with my readers, for I don't want to cause any permanent emotional scarring.)   

You're welcome.

Here are some of my hairdo options. I'm not so sure about Taylor Swift.

Halle Barry? Maybe a bit too short.

I decided to go a bit longer.  Victoria Beckham is quite a beauty.

Holy crap!   I look like Adolph Hitler after a shave.  

Maybe that Twilight girl's hair.

Or not.

 I know!  I think Rihianna's hair looks great on her!

OMG.  Sorry, about that, readers.  That was almost as bad as my original mug shot.

You know what? Madonna's more my age. Maybe I should just go with her hair.

 

Holy stinkin' cow!!!

Please forgive me for subjecting you to such inhumane torture.  This blog should have come with a warning label.

Perhaps I should listen to my daughters, after all. They are right every now and then. 

This might be a good time to trust them.