I gotta say, I’m not a big fan of those pants which…well, I won’t say the brand name, but it’s the one that labels your posterior as being juicy. I don’t really need to draw more attention to my hindquarters, thankyoumovingon.Read More
Month: August 2006
I’m not the most experienced parent in the world, but from what I understand, I have only a few months left until my daughter asks that inevitable question: Can I get a pet? Knowing her, it won’t be any old pet; it will be a turtle or a snake or, help me, a rat.
In my daughter’s language, everything with four legs is a dog. Cat? Dog. Lion? Dog. Cow? Dog. The only animal that isn’t a dog is our dog who is, simply, Deh.
For the past two years, this household’s been on a steady musical diet of Sesame Street and The Wiggles. Don’t get me wrong–I love me some Rubber Duckie–but I’ve been meaning to try something a little more exotic.
The pressure to outdo, outspend, outimpress when it comes to your child’s birthday party is extraordinary. We’re not necessarily advocates of extravagance, but we understand that sometimes you just can’t resist going all out where the kiddo is concerned. In which case, have we got an idea for your next bash.
I do not have what you’d call a green thumb. I’ve killed cacti, for God’s sake. And yet the cruel irony is that I love surrounding myself with flowers, especially as the weather gets crisper and the blooms aren’t quite so readily available.
Oh, the ant. The sweet, sweet ant. Yes, I love the little guys and in fact one of my fondest childhood memories includes my trusty ant farm. The memory could only be made fonder had the ant farm been instead the super-looking Antquarium.
When it comes to baby gifts, I’m a huge fan of matching sets. Unfortunately they generally fall into one of two camps: the Little Brown Bear category, and the Trying Hard to be Funny (But Failing) category.
From among the audacious number of gifts my daughter received this holiday, I was happy (and proud) that her favorite was a book. Of course it was a special book – one personalized with her name on all the pages. Who could blame her?
If you’re anything like me, you have a whole bathroom drawer devoted to those makeup bags so graciously "given" to you when you spend a jillion bucks at the cosmetics counter. Please, leave them in the bathroom. Not only do they scream FREEBIE, they’re a cheap ploy to get you flash the company’s logo around town.
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