This break in the action is totally the fault of the East Coast and Kim Kardashian

Ok...well it wasn't completely Kim's fault, but she does factor into the story.

I'll get to that in a bit.

So I went to the East Coast last week to see the Boy.  I took the redeye last Friday to Boston for a day.  From there it was on to New York and then Philly.  I TOTALLY planned on blogging throughout the week, but, well, you know how it goes.  Stay out late, sleep until noon, baseball, rinse, repeat.

There are bits and pieces of the week that are deserving of their own posts, so I'll limit it here today to a few observations.

First, Susan Sarandon is a genius.

Sure, she's a great actress and all.  I mean, Bull Durham is like the greatest movie EVER.  But Susan is also the brains behind the greatest drinking concept EVER....martinis and ping pong!

I had heard about this in theory, but never appreciated the beauty of it until the Boy convinced me that we had to witness it firsthand.

Susan is the part-owner of a New York club called Spin.  It has Olympic-quality ping pong tables for rent, a full bar, table service and bangin' music (I've never heard Simon and Garfunkel next to techno, but, hey, it totally works).

So last Wednesday night, after the game, the Boy dragged me and my BFFFFF, K, and her husband, B, to Spin.  B was happy and still somewhat energetic because he got to watch baseball, but K and I were BEAT.  It had been a full day of shopping and drinking in the steakhouse at Yankee Stadium (an experience that is probably worth its own post) and occasionally wandering out to watch the ball game and doing jazz hands to "New York, New York" at the end of the game.  By the time we cabbed back from the stadium to the hotel, we were t-i-r-e-d.

But it was our last night in NYC and the Boy wanted to play ping pong.

And we had a blast.

How great is this?

The Boy and I - yes, I'm aware that I just hit the ball into the net, but, damn, I got moves!

K, trying to figure out how to make the the paddle hit the ball.  But she looks fabulous doing it.

There's just nothing better than booze, ping pong and a place to put your feet up.

And I learned a couple of new things about my friends K and B.  I learned that B fancies himself a professional-ish ping pong player...just like the Boy!  He and the Boy fired ping pong balls across the table at each other like blind-folded, slightly tipsy Chinese almost-pros.  B also is not afraid to fire balls at K, who, I learned, moves like Elaine Benes on the dance floor when this happens.

K and I played a more civilized "girl ping pong" - the kind where nobody gets pelted or mauled - and then let the boys have it out while we sipped on wine and vanilla milkshakes.

So much fun!  We will be going back.

So what, you ask, does Kim Kardashian have to do with my lack of blog posts last week?

Well, Kim and I were seated across the aisle from each other on the first leg of my flight home.  I could tell that she was dying to ask me all kinds of questions about my life and what I was wearing and my thoughts on achieving world peace, but she was polite and let me sleep.  She was busy anyway...looking through a massive stack of glossy gossip magazines...I assume, for pictures of herself.

One five hour flight later, she still has perfect makeup and not a curl out of place, while I have smeared make-up and flat hair.  And once she finished up her gossip magazine homework, she got to sleep.  I had to speculate to the guy next to me for about 1000 miles how he might theoretically be able to highlight Bible verses if he bought a Kindle and then downloaded the Bible.  The Bible?

So at the end of the flight...first class passengers were treated to this...

Kim

And this...

 

Jane

I was so traumatized that I couldn't write for days (or at least a day).

See...it was kind of Kim's fault.

At least that's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

To iPad or not to iPad, that is the question

I'm not afraid to admit it...I have a Robert Pattinson level crush on the iPad.

I haven't committed to purchasing one yet, however, because - like Robert Pattinson - I haven't quite figured out if it has substance or it's just a pretty face.

I thought I would be immune to the siren song of this newest offering by Apple.  But then I saw it live and my heart melted.

It's thin.  It's sexy.  You can use it to play GIANT solitaire.

I could even forgive the stupid name which makes me think of this...

  

I'm so confused.

I could read books on it (but I have a Kindle).

I could check my emails and play games on it (but I have an iPhone...two, actually).

I could watch movies on it (but I'd have to find something to prop it up on).

I could...

I can't justify it, I just want it.

I'm so confused.

So what do you know?  Give it to me...the good, the bad and the bloody.  Oh wait, I mean ugly.  See?  I'm confusing the pads again.

Jane has questions

I've spent the weekend with a child who continues to cross the border between "sick" and "not sick", which, as those of you who are parents know, is something akin to parental purgatory.  The Princess has a hacking cough that she inherited from me, which she cannot seem to shake, and a fever which fires up every 4 days or so.  So sometimes she is fine and wants to do things and sometimes she is miserable and wants to make everyone around her miserable as well.

Truly my child.

So I've had a lot of down-time to ponder some of the world's great riddles.

Like...would more women enjoy sports if they weren't subject to male dominance of the remote-control?

This occurred to me as I flipped back and forth between the NBA playoffs and the Stanley Cup.

WTF?

I never in a million years would have watched either of these events when I was married.  My Ex would do the flipping back and forth between sporting events and I would ignore it all and read a book.  Now that it's MY remote and MY TV, I can't get enough.  I'm interested.  I'm involved.  I don't get it.

Sometimes I flip between Toddlers & Tiaras and Sportscenter.  Explain that.

Or this...why is it that you only see The Club installed on the cars that nobody would want to steal anyway?

I happened across this hoopty gem in the parking lot of Whole Foods nestled between a BMW and an Audi.  What you can't see in this picture is the fabulous fur trimmed pimp coat tossed across the front seat.  And the pile of similar apparel piled high in the back seat.  Which leads me to believe that the use of the Club in this case is not dissimilar to a home alarm system.

And, speaking of Whole Foods...why does it cost the same to eat unhealthy for 2 weeks as it does to eat healthy for 4 days?  

I've almost completely cut meat and processed crap out of my diet and have decided that I officially need a raise.  Fresh food is fuckin' expensive.  No wonder we're all ginormous...Cheez Its are WAY cheaper than veggies.  Which leads me to...

How is it that we haven't found a way to completely eliminate food from day-to-day life anyway?  Food is a nuisance.  I want to just take a pill in the morning and be done with it for the day.  And not just like a 'fun' pill that makes you forget everything...I could do that now.  I want all my nutrition pre-calorie counted for me and in pill form, please.  And we could solve world hunger in the process.  If we, as a society, can figure out how to recreate the Big Bang AND Heidi Pratt's face, why can't we do this?

I have other questions, but it's Sunday night and I want to watch the Milwaukee v. St. Louis game, which has gone into extra innings.

All answers welcome.

Banana slugs and songs about poop and your tax dollars at work

I mentioned a few weeks back that the Princess was going away to camp for a week.  She went with her 5th grade class to a campsite in nature somewhere to learn about nature-stuff that, God-knows, her mother will never be able to teach her.

It's pretty cool actually.  It's an opportunity that has been offered to every 5th grader in the county since the 60's.

Needless to say, the Princess was absolutely jacked about this trip.  She loved every second and was very very sad when she got home because she missed nature and friends and being far away from parental oversight.

Her teacher made a video of the highlights from the week and in true California "we need to raise money any way we can because you're fuckin' lucky that we still have schools" fashion, the PTA made it available to the kids for $25.00.

Definitely money well spent.

The Princess brought the DVD home this week and we popped it in.

And I walk away from said DVD with two observations about this week in the woods...

First, California is teaching our children to terrorize innocent slugs.

If the kids kissed - yes, kissed - a banana slug, they were admitted into the "Banana Slug Club".  If you're not familiar with the banana slug, it is a large yellow slug that looks like - wait for it - a banana.  The Banana Slug Club is apparently quite the little badge of honor.  The Princess tells me that they were taught to kiss the slug with their lips curled in, however, so as to not damage the frail slug.

I doubt this makes the slugs feel any better things.

I can't help but think that banana slugs in the greater San Francisco Bay Area must HATE the month of May, when these 5th graders are turned loose on their habitats.  Imagine how horrifying it must be to be minding your own banana slug business and casually look up only to find a giant pair of pre-adolescent lips coming at you...

I give it another few years of evolution and those slugs are going to be fucking READY...

This can't end well.

Second, California is teaching our children songs about shit.

Near the end of the wholesome camping DVD (slug kissing and all), there is a wholesome shot of all of the kids sitting around the campfire with their camp counselors singing their little hearts out.

The only problem with this scene is the song.

I'm smiling as I watch this part because the scene is so cute.  The Princess elbows me in the ribs and says "Watch this...I LOVE this song!".  And I watch in amazement as 100+ 5th graders belt out...

"CUZ IT STARTS WITH AN 'S' AND IT ENDS WITH A 'T'!  IT COMES OUT OF YOU AND IT COMES OUT OF ME! ((dramatic pause)) CUZ IT'S SCAT!  SCAT!  OOOOOO...."

Scuse me?

Let me start off by saying that, until fairly recently, I was only familiar with the word "scat" as: (a) something you say to a stray cat; and (b) whatever it is that Scatman Crothers used to do.

I was educated on the other meaning for scat not long ago during a drunken conversation that involved one-upping the last person on "grossest human behavior".  Sex and poop?  You win, dude.

But these 5th graders were so damn happy.  The counselor could even be heard telling the kids "How many times in your life are you going to be able to sing about poop during school hours?"

How can I argue with that?!  Sigh.

Poop.  We'll leave it at that and assume that the state of California is not familiar with Urban Dictionary.

***NOTE***

A couple of comments on the last post.

1.  Y'all are Cheese Nip HATERS!  Ok ok...I was wrong...it is actually Cheddar Jack CHEEZ ITS (CHEEZ without an "E") in my pantry.  And I'm not just saying that because I want to be cool.  Although I do.  Regardless, there needs to be a little more Nip tolerance in the world, people.

2.  And for those of you who were evidently hoping for some kind of juice-related digestive trauma story, I got nothing.  In fact, my ass was so happy after all that healthy juice shit that it could kiss, well, my ass.  (I'll leave you to come up with a visual for that one.)