Saturday, December 22, 2007

Thank You Hypocritical Atheists!

You'd never think you'd see that statement coming from me would you? But yes, it has and I'm digusted.

Today was the Atheist Solstice Picnic, hosted by a local Atheist Group. I'm sure some of you have seen my blurbs regarding their meetings and such. Anyhow, I woke up early this morning in order to make my AWESOME homemade Shells and Cheese (made lovingly and tastily with four types of cheese, all creamy and good and yummy and bad for you) to bring to the picnic. 30+ people were scheduled to attend so I made ALOT of food. We were excited to go meet new people and be around other likeminded individuals. It's hard finding Atheists so we always looked forward to the meetings. This would be the first time we had the opportunity to meet everyone, as we don't go to the weekly meetings because of Dante.

We got to the picnic promptly and were greeted by some new faces. As more people began to show up, we began to realize that something wasn't right. We didn't feel like part of the group. I tried initiating conversations and introducing myself and my family, but was cut off and/or interrupted by the "cliques" that had formed. One woman walked away from me in mid-sentence to say hello to another woman. Left me standing in the middle of the lawn by myself, mouth agape, and just stunned. Another woman brought her two dogs yet explicitly FORBADE my son to go near them. I explained to her that Dante was good with dogs as we have two of our own and he is very gentle and just loves kissing them. She bluntly stated that "you never know what a child will do to an animal" and walked off. Not ten seconds later, a swarm of children were playing with and petting her dogs while she just drank her wine and schmoozed with everyone else.

I then saw a woman with a baby about the same age as Dante and I approached her. We all had name tags on and I said "Hello so-and-so I'm Alessia, I see you have a little baby too! This is Dante, he's 17 months old, how old is your daughter?" She replied by grunting and walking away to go sit in her friends' circle. Ok fine. Another group of little girls and their parents were playing with a football and Dante walked over and said "Ohhh" ( his version of Hello) and waved. I said, "Maybe the little girls will share the ball and play with you Dante", to which one of the little girls said, "I don't have to share, he's not our friend". Understandably, you would think that the parent would correct the child and say something like, "We can always make new friends and share" or "Let's make friends and all play together!", but no. Instead the parents MOVED their game across the road so Dante couldn't get there. Nice.

Keep in mind people, this was the ATHEIST PICNIC. An event hosted by a group my family belongs to. A group of people who are normally shunned by the mainstream and considered Un-American, yet they treat strangers and new people like this?!?!?!

Wait. It gets better. A man had a guitar and other musical instruments, including a tambourine, maracas, and a drum. Now Dante ADORES maracas and is the chief maraca shaker at playgroup, so I asked the man if we could play his maracas. "No", he replied, "those are professional instruments! They're not toys!". Um, ok Mr. Professional Maraca player. Fuck you then. The last straw came when I asked where the beer was and was told that if I didn't bring any, there wasn't any. Excuse me? I just busted my ass cooking homemade Shells and Cheese for 30 people and I can't drink anything? We were told to bring a side and that drinks would be provided. Now, all of a sudden they're not?!?!?

Only one person was nice and he's always been nice and our friend and he was disgusted at the way we were treated. When we told him we were leaving, he said " I don't blame you".

So, Thank You Hypocritical Atheists. You, who always talk about how judgemental and rude Christians are. Who always claim to be the champions of reason and logic, and who profess to be so much more educated than those who "need an imaginary friend in the sky". Thanks for being exactly what you hate and thanks for making this Atheist family feel ostracized, unwelcome, and certainly embarassed to be associated with a buch of assholes like you.

Happy Solstice you dipshits!

***disclaimer: I'm still an Atheist. I'm just disgusted by this group of people and will no longer support or associate with them******

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

I'm not Racist but.....

Have you ever heard that phrase before? Have you ever noticed how the next thing to come out of the mouth of the person saying it, is usually a racist remark? Why try and mask your ignorance and bigotry with that bullshit preface? If you're racist and/or making a racist comment (which usually means you're a racist), why start off with "I'm Not a Racist". You clearly are!

For example, today at the park where I take my son everyday, there was a new mom with her child. Many of the "regulars" weren't there so I didn't hesitate to strike up a conversation with the New Mom and have our kids play. She informed me that she wasn't from the area, but liked to come to this park because it was much nicer than the ones in her neighborhood. Foolishly, I asked what was wrong with her local park. And I got "I'm Not Racist....but the park near our house is mostly blacks." Ok, so what's wrong with that, I asked. To which she replied, "No no don't get me wrong, I'm Not Racist but....they all looked like gang members and probably had guns". Seriously. I'm not making this up. I politely informed the woman that this was South Florida and the 95 year old woman crossing the street over there probably had a gun. I also said to her that just because the people in her park were black didn't mean they were gang members. Again she replied "Oh I know! I wasn't saying that to sound racist. I'm Not Racist..........but they were all playing basketball and acting all thuggish." Clearly, I wanted to bang my head on the nearest swingset, but just stared blankly and said "Oh". I had made my point and tried to enlighten her as to the *ahem* gravity of her errors, but no. She was a racist in denial, and that was that. Needless to say, when some of the other park "regulars" began showing up to play with us, I saw her skitter away with her son and leave. You see, the children and families Dante and I usually play with are black (oh no!) and I guess New Mom thought we'd start a gang and throw signs. Now that I think of it, Dante's pants were a little baggy today and his friend Rocco had baby tattoo band-aids on his knees. GANG! RUN!!!!!!!!

Another example occurred right in my back yard a few days ago as I was playing outside with Dante. My neighbor and his wife were outside and came over to the fence to say hello. Their neighbors on the other side had just moved away and I asked them if they knew if anyone had been looking at the house. Wait for it! The wife replied "Oh we saw one woman over there and We're Not Racist...........but thank god she was white!" Um, ok. Who the fuck cares what color the people are?!?!?! All I am concerned about is are they clean, quiet, and friendly? So I said to the neighbors, "What does it matter if they're black, white, green, orange, blue or purple? All that should matter is that they are nice people and good neighbors!".

So the next time you hear someone preface their sentence with "I'm Not Racist", be prepared for some ignorant, racist shit to come out of their mouths.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Let’s Get Things Clear.....

Yesterday hubby and I took Dante to Dave and Buster's. It's a restaurant/arcade chain and we like to go there to play the games. Dante likes to run around and "play" the motorcycle or car games. I say "play" because he's only 14 months old so he really just holds on to the handlebars or steeringwheel and goes "brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr". Anyhow, Hubby and Dante were chasing eachother around and I was hiding behind games letting D catch me, when I noticed an elderly couple (probably grandparents) and the rest of the family doting on Dante and smiling at seeing he and my hubby playing. They were having a blast watching him, and then when Dante found me and I popped out of my hiding place, I heard the older couple say "Oh my god look at the mother!" and it passed on to each member of the family, "Look at the mother!" "Look at the mother" "Look at the mother!". Now, instead of smiling at a happy family playing with their son, I could see them shaking their heads and saying "what a shame", "oh how awful". No joke. I HEARD them say it.

Was I holding a butcher knife and threatening to slice my son's throat? No.
Was I hitting him? Nope.
Was I wearing skimpy inappropriate clothing with curse words all over it? No, actually I was in jeans and a plain t-shirt with my comfy sketchers and my hair was in a ponytail.

No, it wasn't my behavior that made these people all of a sudden change their minds about the happiness and well-being of my child. It was the fact that my hair is bright red and my arms are tattooed from shoulder to wrist. I'm assuming that is what, since I wasn't doing anything else other than playing with my son and husband.

So let me set the record straight for anyone who has ever "shaken their head" when they see that an Aging Goth Chick or Punk Chick or Rockabilly Chick is a mother with funny hair and tattoos. We're still good mothers. Our appearance has nothing to do with it. Will our children grow up and want to look like us? Who knows? I don't wear cheesy hippy clothes like my mother. Who is to say that Dante grows up and is a complete fashionista and only wears Prada and Armani? My job as a mother has no bearing on what color my hair is this week and how many tattoos I have.

end of rant.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Winnie, my friend

This is Winnie-the-Pooch. I adopted her when she was 6 months old. Winnie died today. I loved her very much.

Winnie-the-Pooch 1992-2007

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Justified Racism?

One of our Jack Russell terriers got out this afternoon. We have no idea how as our backyard is fenced. We think it was when Randy got home from work and Dante and I met him at the door. Both Salad and Carrots ran to the door to greet him and I suspect that Salad came back in while Carrots snuck out. That was at 4:30 pm. At 6, I went to feed them and I noticed only Salad was on the doggie beds. Thinking Carrots had sneaked onto the couch in the den, I went in there to find her. She was gone. Missing. Instantly Randy and I hit the streets. Dante in Randy's arms and me with the leash screaming "Carrots! Carrots!' throughout the neighborhood. Quite the visual.

We searched for an hour and nothing. So, I took Dante home, thinking that Carrots may have "gone home" like a good dog would, but then I realized I was talking about Carrots and "good" is not in her repertoire. Randy continued the search.

Around 7: 30 Randy called the house from his cell phone. He had found Carrots. She was across the railroad tracks in the part of town the racist idiots call "Brown Town" and was running through the graveyard. Mind you, our backyard overlooks another part of the graveyard and we always walk through it, so I think that is how Carrots was lured. She must be a Goth dog.

Anyhow, Randy was frantic on the phone, telling me to get over there IMMEDIATELY as he had cornered Carrots but she was hurt and that there were a bunch of people threatening to shoot him for being in "their" graveyard. I called my mom and she went to get him as I wasn't going to bring Dante to this situation.

Randy was trying to get our dog. He wasn't there defiling anyone's graves. He was called "Cracker" and threatened with physical violence. Why? He asked the men to help him and explained to them that he was trying to get our dog and these people said "We don't give a fuck about you or your dog". They even threw stones at him and Carrots. My mom arrived on the scene and quickly corralled both Randy and Carrots into the SUV, but what the hell?!

This is everyone's neighborhood! Are these men saying that if I am walking around the graveyard and I venture across the tracks that I am now an intruder in "their" land? Because of my skin color? Is it justifiable racism because of the hundreds of years of discrimination they and their ancestors have endured? Were that true, should I go around calling every German a Nazi for my ancestry lies buried under the green grass at Auschwitz and Dachau? Or should I call every Russian a murderer for the millions of Jews killed in pogroms?

I don't know what to think. Carrots is home, albeit her paws are a bit cut from her adventure. Randy is home safe, although we thought he'd suffered heat stroke from chasing the dog. But had my mother not shown up, would those men really have shot my husband and dog based solely on his skin color?

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

First Words

Dante has said his first words!

The first is "Ball", and the second is "Yea yea". When we ask him a question, like "Do you want to go outside?", he nods and says "yea yea!".

It has been very fun asking him questions and hearing him answer "yea yea". He hasn't mastered "no" yet, although when he doesn't say "yea yea" and wants to say "no" he just says "mgfphfph" and runs away.

So yay for his two words!

Monday, July 23, 2007

The Hypocritic [sic] Oath

I took Dante to his pediatrician today for his 12 month vaccinations. When I was holding Dante for his exam, the Doctor asked me what was tattooed on my arm. Mind you, she has been his doctor since he was 2 months old, not like she had never seen us before.

I replied, "Oh it's engravings by Gustave Dore from Milton's Paradise Lost. It says 'Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven'. It's one of my favorite books and one of my favorite artists so I thought I would document it on my arm."

She looks at me and says, "Do you actually believe that?" to which I replied, "Well, in the context of the work itself it is an incredible piece but as far as the literal meaning of heaven and hell, no as I don't believe in either".

So she starts PREACHING to me about how my actions in life determine whether I go to heaven or hell and that Jesus this and Jesus that jesus jesus jesus jesus jesus jesus jesus. So I politely said to her, "Well thank you but we're Atheists or Non Believers but you should read the book, it's very good."

She then starts telling me about Jesus again and how I'm depriving my son of a good childhood because I'm not all about the jesus jesus jesus jesus jesus. So I change the subject and she abruptly cuts me off, says Dante lost 0.05 ounces in a week (we were there last week for shots but he had a fever and couldn't get them) and that she is considering that I may be malnourishing my child. Um, HELLO! Any of you who have seen pictures of my son can tell that 1. he's gorgeous. 2. He's clean and happy. 3. He's well fed. 4. He's healthy.

What nerve. I left there fuming and am now going through the book to find a new doctor.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Night(mare) at the Museum

Randy and I took Mr. Dante to the Museum of Discovery and Science today. It's a Childrens' Museum here in Fort Lauderdale and they had been advertising a dinosaur exhibit that opened in June so we decided it was time for Dante to get to know some dinos. The museum also houses exhibits about space, air travel, sea life, and science and is chock-full of interactive activities for children of all ages. Yea, right.

So we get there and we pay the admission to enter and we head up the escalator to the dinosaur exhibit. Now mind you, I'm originally from NYC where I have spent countless hours at the Museum of Natural History. Maybe I'm spoiled, maybe I expect that kind of caliber of exhibit but when I hear Dinosaur and Exhibit in the same sentence, I'm looking for massive bones and teeth and T-Rex and just a plain old ass kicking good time. NOT in this case. The "Dinosaur Exhibit" consisted of 10-20 robotic dinosaurs positioned in 5 dioramas that looked like a 5th grade class put together with paper mache and crayons. Seriously, the animatronic dinosaurs looked like something out of Toxic Avenger circa 1978 and I even think that they were scientifically inaccurate. Where did they get these dinos? Big Lots? Sam's Club? The Dino Warehouse? They even had speakers playing "dinosaur sounds" which I think that whole series Walking With Dinosaurs proved that they chirped and clicked rather than Godzilla-roared. Needless to say, we were not amused and Mr. Dante was confused and scared at times. So we moved on to the Air and Space section......

Let's see, where to begin. The cockpits and the hangars and the flight simulators were cool, but to actually get a chance to use anything was futile since every kid and their brother was there. No one was taking turns or cooperating and letting little ones have a try. As a matter of fact, more adults were hogging the simulators than the kids DESPITE the nice little placards that read "please limit your simulation time to 3 minutes". Eventually we all got a chance to fly a DC-10, and Dante flew all of us to Spain while Randy and I sipped mimosas in first class. Talented kid we've got there. We were going to try some of the space stuff, but Mr. D was too little for the shuttle sim and it was crowded with little brats lacking parent supervision. So, off we went to the Gizmo Section....

Ideally, the Gizmo section is an area of the museum with tons of interactive puzzles and projects and sounds and lights and buttons and toys and "stuff to play with" all related to science. Ideally. What we got were a bunch of broken exhibits, exhibits that only worked half-assed, or exhibits being hogged, once again, by adults whose kids were running around banging and breaking those gizmos that had not yet been damaged. One only has to look around at the number of unsupervised hellions kicking, punching, pulling, and grabbing at the various work stations to understand why half the shit didn't work. Does anyone say anything to the kids? Is there proper security to ensure that the exhibits are serving their purpose to educate and enrich young minds. NOPE. So we moved downstairs to the "Coral Reef Aquarium".....

This was nice. A simulated coral grotto with various tanks housing some really cool sea life. We saw sharks and gars and big lobsters and eels and big fish that were bigger than my head. Dante was a little frightened at first so to help him enjoy it I said, "Look Dante! It's Nemo's friends!". He seemed to enjoy that, although some asshole frat boy with his anorexic wife and idiot child behind us decided to make fun of me saying that and started mimicking my voice. What the hell is wrong with people? I was trying to comfort my son and this idiot in a "COCKS" hat thinks he has a right to make fun? They shut up quickly after Randy made a comment about sticks, ass, and death. Still though, what nerve.

Finally, the clincher of the day was when we decided to take Mr. Dante into the Activities Area; a place for kids to play and climb and explore. Dante, of course, was too little for the "big stuff" so we decided to take him over to the Toddler Area where he could play with kids his age. Now, to get to the Toddler Area we had to walk around the big fort where the bigger kids were playing. Well, I say "playing" but they were more like "acting like wild animals and throwing shit at eachother and not having any supervision". While walking around World War 3 one of these "precious" little monsters chucked something at his friend that missed Randy's and Dante's head by a fraction of a centimeter. Ok. My husband and my kid are not targets. At this point Randy says he's had about enough so let's go. I see a group of three women next to me, obviously the mothers of these boys who were acting horribly, and I say "Is anyone going to do something about these kids? Is anyone supervising them? They almost hit my son in the head!" To which one of the face-lifted bitches replied snottily, "No." They then had the nerve to sit there and snicker at me and my family while I reprimanded them for not being able to control their children! SNICKERING! What the hell!?!?!? I then complained to the museum staff and left.

Ok, after all that here's my point. People are constantly staring and/or making comments about Randy and Me and our appearance and the fact that we have a child and we have tattoos and I have funny hair and all that jazz. Yet, we know how to behave in public. We have manners. We went to the museum to have an enjoyable day as a family; to expose Dante to cool new things, to let him play in activities and such, and maybe even make a friend. What we got instead we the stares, as usual, kids running around with no regard or respect for their surroundings or the people in those surroundings, stupid questions ("Why do you have all those tattoos? Why is your hair funny?"), and complete and utter lack of respect from other parents who would, should someone have almost hit their child in the head, reacted in the same fashion as Randy and I did.

I grew up knowing that museums were sacred places and they needed to be respected. Whether it be the Louvre, the Uffizi, the Met, or even some dinky childrens' museum in South Florida, there has to be a modicum of manners! Yes, I know. It's a childrens' museum, children will be there, it's going to be loud and yelly, there are going to be the snot-nosed brats from time to time, but this was out of control.And they have the nerve to judge us.....

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Happy Birthday Dante!

Well, we made it through the first year. Dante turned 1 today and I can't believe it. It feels like yesterday I was screaming "no no no no no" and pushing. It has been a wonderful year and it can just keep getting better. Well at least until he turns 15 and brings some tramp home.What a year!

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Transformers 2007: My Review (with apologies to Fidel)


After much trepidation and planned disappointment, Randy and I gave Dante to my mom and dad this morning and headed off to the 10:30 am showing of Transformers 2007. We were ready for anything, mostly we were ready to be disappointed. After all, most remakes (or adaptations of remakes) should never leave the studio (Poseidon ring a bell?), so Randy and I were prepared for the worst ever Transformers movie in the world. Now mind you, my friend Fidel had written his own review a few weeks back and I had read it with much interest, so I was prepared going into this. Fidel gave his experience with Transformers 2007 a C+ and after seeing the movie this morning, I have to say:


Fidel, my friend, my Italian compatriot, did you go see a different movie? I LOVED this movie. Ok, ok, granted I have to agree that the appearance of these new Transformers is very different from the classics we grew up with, but I had no problem distinguishing who was who. Optimus Prime was obviously Optimus Prime. I picked out Starscream right away and Randy called Shockwave almost immediately. Jazz, Ironhide, we spotted them too. I know, I know, Ratchett was no longer an ambulance but he was a pretty cool EMT truck thingie and you have to admit that Bumblebee as the 2008 Camaro was sweeeeet. And it's not like props was not given to the original Bumblebee vehicle: If you remember in the car lot, BB was parked right next to a yellow VW and his air freshner was a bumblebee with "Bee-Yatch" written on it.

I also like the little "inside" jokes thrown in here and there. The Decepticon Police Car had "To Punish and Enslave" on the side of it instead of "To Protect and Serve". Shia LeBeuf's character pleaded to that girl that he was "more that meets the eye". I don't know, call me a cheeseball, but I even thought the whole Bumblebee picking out the songs on the radio when Shia was chasing the girl was funny.

I think I liked this movie because I was expecting not to like it. I felt like a little kid and actually went "Ha HA!" out loud in the theater when Megatron showed up (although his whole transforming into a jet thing wasn't cool). The CGI action was incredible and this is from someone who thinks too much CGI ruins a movie. I was on the edge of my seat for the whole thing. They even threw in an Insecticon (remember those?!?!). Even the acting wasn't half bad. Shia LeBeuf has an incredible sense of comedic timing and was absolutely hysterical. Serioulsy, when we walked out to my car after it was over I was secretely hoping my Toyota Corolla would transform and be all cool. Although, it being my car, it would probably be a Decepticon and start blowing shit up. Which would be fine with me just as long as it left me and my posse alone.

Fidel, I love ya, but I have to disagree with your final review. I give Transformers 2007 an: A

Monday, June 25, 2007

A question (or two) for the gawkers

We went to the mall today. We had a blast. Dante walked as best he could and even stopped to flirt with the ladies here and there. Randy and I, the proud parents, couldn't help but gloat at our little guy. But everytime we go somewhere as a family they follow us: the dirty looks, the glares, the shaking heads. And I'd like to know, what is it that is offending them so much?

Is it because I'm fat?
Is it because Randy and I have tattoos?
Is it because I, a woman, have tattoos?
Is it because Randy and I have tattoos and I'm fat?
Is it because I have multicolor hair?
Is it because we have a child?
Is it because we seem to be a happy family with a happy baby but we don't look like Mr. and Mrs. Betty Crocker?
Was there a hole in my skirt?
Was Randy's fly open?
Did I have a booger hanging out of my nose?
Did Randy have something stuck in his teeth?
Did Dante have a smelly diaper?

Seriously, I'd like to know because as much as we try to ignore it, the whispering and the evil glares get a bit grating at times. I think Randy and I calculated that if we had a nickel for every "for shame" look we got, we could probably afford to buy all of you your own little private island and yacht. What the hell is so fascinating? We're a couple, with a baby. Our baby wears baby clothes, laughs, smiles when we sing to him and play games, and acts very baby-like. If I'm sitting on the floor with him in the bookstore reading Sandra Boynton's "Dogs" and making all the doggie noises to him, why must you call your ENTIRE family over to peek at me through the cooking section? Why, if Randy and Dante are in the trucks aisle at Toys R Us, do I have to hear you, in Spanish, say "Look! Look!". What's the big deal?!?!

Do you think that because we look like this, that we're just supposed to sit in dark corners and worship the devil all the time? (Only on Wednesdays). Do you think that we should swing our baby over our head while chanting in Latin and cursing everyone who lays eyes upon us? (every other Thursday). Do you think that we sacrifice goats in the backyard and use the skins to make tablecloths? (February)

Is it that hard for these gawkers to accept the fact that yes, we're not your average looking mom and dad, BUT we are a GREAT mom and dad to Dante. We love him. He's our everything. I can't stand the looks we get. We were in the Disney store and everyone was so busy staring at us, that no one noticed the perfectly normal looking Dad SMACK his 2 year old daughter in the FACE THREE TIMES because she wanted a doll and started crying when he said no. This BIG man SMACKING his daughter in the FACE phased no one. My tattoos and hair (and fat?) were the big shocker.

I really wish we weren't a society based on outward appearance. I really wish that people were more open minded. Tattoos and funny hair and funny clothes aren't catching. It's a personal choice what we look like and I should garner the same respect as anyone else. Just because we choose to look a certain way does not mean that we are so different on the INSIDE. We share commonalities that no one bothers to care about. We love our son. We love eachother. Whether we have one tattoo or a million, an earring or a bone through our nose, blond hair or purple hair with orange polka dots, it should not matter.

Monday, June 18, 2007

You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

I cleaned my closet today.

For most people, that sentence would just mean "I cleaned my closet today." For me, it's more of an event; a milestone if you will.

You see, I decided to pack away alot of things that I never thought I'd pack away. Things that I vowed I would never part with, or compromise, or "bow down to the man" and get rid of. But I did. I packed them away in a big suitcase I keep in Randy's closet labeled "Props and Costumes". Though at the time, I would have never dreamed of labeling those things as "props" or "costumes", it seems now appropriate to call them such.

So, into the suitcase they went: corsets, vinyl skirts, mesh outfits, PVC junk, vinyl dresses, latex dresses, my big boots with the fat buckles, veils, tiaras, long fingerless gloves with feathers. All packed away until they are needed. Will they ever be needed? Not by me, I'm sure. So unless our next child is a girl or Dante decides to become a fabulous Drag Queen, I think that the suitcase will be their home for now. I can open it up one day and laugh and remember how much fun I had wearing those boots that hurt the moment I put them on. Or how I sneezed once while wearing that corset and nearly broke a rib. Or how it was next to impossible to bartend with those gloves on but by golly I would wear them if it killed me!

The funny thing is that I thought I would be much sadder than I actually was packing those things away. I mean, don't get me wrong, I did leave some things in my closet which *ahem* Randy and I have found fun to "use", but as far as wearing any of this stuff in public or at clubs anymore I just don't. If and when we go to a club, I dress for comfort and dancing, as we are usually only there for a few hours (or as long as my mom can watch Dante) and I mostly spend my time dancing my ass off. I can't do it anymore in a corset and stilettos. My center of gravity has shifted since giving birth (or maybe my common sense?) and I would much rather be comfortable than Miss Uber Goth 2007.

I think today marked a final goodbye to that which I once was: Mistress Kaos, Kaos, that bitch bartender, that bitch in general, one of the managers of True, and whatever anyone once knew me as. I'm sure some of my ex-friends in NYC have more names for me as I do for them, but what I once was is also what they once were and neither matter anymore. It felt good to put Miz Kaos away into the suitcase. It feels nice to be Alessia. I feels really nice to be Randy's wife. And it feels incredible to be Dante's Mom.

So, hello. Nice to meet you. I'm Alessia.

Monday, June 11, 2007

My 360 Porn

For those of you who know me, you know that "prude" and "easily offended" are not words that really describe my personality. Hell, when you've worked at some of the clubs I've worked at, you have to lose certain inhibitions and realize that yes, sometimes I'm going to have to see a grown man in a diaper getting spanked while sucking on the 9 inch stiletto heel of a she-male named Bitzi. These things don't phase me. It's like watching ants and an anthill. Boring. But I digress. What I really want to talk about is my Xbox 360. I subscribe to Xbox Live, where I can play games with people all over the world. Sometimes I play war games, like Gears of War, where me and a team of others unite to save the world from alien invasion. It's fun and pretty neat to have my headset on, barking commands at some guy in Ireland to "Get my back while I check for ammo over here!". It's a rush to be in this co-op mode; almost as though we are actually in this war for humanity.

There are also other Xbox Live games I play with other people: 3D Golf, Billiards, Texas Hold 'Em, and my current favorite UNO. Yes, yes, I know. Why the hell did Randy and I shell out $500 for an Xbox 360 if we play a card game we can buy for $2.99 at the gas station. I don't know, it's just fun. UNO, not only is Xbox Live enabled, it is also Xbox Webcam enabled which allows for players to see eachother and chat while playing UNO. Fun right? Not really.

You see, the webcam feature, I've noticed, is a perfect tool for the Xbox Live pervert. I can't count how many times I've logged into a game, expecting a friendly card game, but instead am thrown into Porn Central 101. No joke! Tonight, for example, I joined an UNO game and the second I entered the room was met with hoots and hollers and "fuck yea"s. Upon fully entering the room, I saw that Player 3, or the Red Player, had his webcam on. Instead of seeing a friendly face, I was greeted with a penis being deep throated by a woman. Live. Not a picture. Not a cartoon. This guy had his webcam trained on his girlfriend/wife/neighbor/sister/who knows giving him a blow job! Um, I just came in to play UNO dammit! And worst of all, I call UNO and then get a damn draw four card passed to me!

There have been other things I've witnessed while playing UNO. The other day, a woman joined my game and immediately trained her webcam onto her vagina. CLOSE UP. Spread eagle, fingering herself like there was no tomorrow. Um, again, I just came to play some UNO. Then there was the lovely couple who decided to have sex on their webcam while playing UNO. Full on sex. They really went at it. And surprisingly, the didn't miss a hand either. I'm pretty sure they won the game as well. I don't know how I'd feel if my mate came up to me and said "Baby, let's play UNO and make love and share it with the rest of the world". Again, what ever happened to just playing UNO? I've seen more breasts, penises, vagina, and sexual acts playing this damn UNO than I have at any Gomorrah party (NYC people you know what I'm talking about.) Seriously! I don't need to rent porn! I can just go play UNO!

Listen, I have no beef with exhibitionists. I do have a problem when they do it in the public rooms and kids are on there. Remember, this is a video game system. Most of the people I play UNO with are under 18 and/or are parents with their children in the room. Xbox Live has private rooms for more "adult" conversations and I wish these people would take their performances there. But, I guess if they did, what kind of exhibitionists would they be? I don't want to sound like a prude, but I'm a mom now and I certainly wouldn't want Dante to be playing UNO and seeing this. Not because I think the naked body is dirty and sex is dirty, but because there is a time and place for everything. If exhibitionists want to do this sort of thing on Xbox Live, let them in rooms designated for over 18. Or am I wrong here?

I don't know. I just want to play UNO.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Round Two and the Results

Well, I don't want to jinx anything but this method seems to be working. We put Dante to bed last night after his bath and some nursing, around 8:45 pm. I was prepared for 2 hours of screaming and yelling, but believe it or not, he fussed for about half an hour and then was quiet. He didn't scream bloody murder like Round 1, rather he just softly fussed, almost as though he was saying "Aw come on guys, I still want to play". At 9:30 pm, we went in to check on him and there he was, the little prisoner, up against the crib bars snoring away like there was no tomorrow. We laid him down, gave him his lovey and rejoiced in our success.

At 2 am he woke up. I went in, gave him some water, stroked his head, laid him down with his lovey and walked out of the room. He fussed, but once again, was not as vocal as the previous night. At about 2:30 am, I went in to check on him. He had found a pacifier in his crib and was sucking on it, all the while clutching his lovey and snoring away in his prisoner stance. I laid him down, once again, and went back to bed,

He awoke at 8 this morning, fresh faced and ready to go. He was already pointing at my chest and saying "Boo!" by the time I walked in there and thankfully so, as I had skipped the overnight nursing and was again harboring two small planets under my shirt. I nursed him , he enjoyed it, I felt better and now it's time for breakfast.

I wonder what Round 3 tonight will bring. Better? Worse? We can't turn back now.

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

The Aftermath

To say it was an easy night would mean that most of you would have to call "bullshit" on me. It was tough. Dante finally fell asleep around 11 pm, that's after about 2 hours of crying and yelling. We did what we were supposed to do: check on him periodically, lay him down with his lovey and walk out of the room. He fell asleep sitting up with his hands on the bars of his crib like a little prisoner and it wrenched my heart into 6 million pieces. We stretched him out on his side, put the puppy lovey in his arms and finally went to bed. And he slept. He slept to the point that at 4 am I woke up on my own to see if he was alive. He was; snoring away like his dad (and me, so I am told).

At about 4:30 am he woke up and since my boobs were the size of small planets and leaking milk all over the place, I broke the "rules" and nursed him. He nursed until about 5 and then, awake as he was, I put him back in his crib and let him go at it again. I lay him down with his lovey, turned on the little music he likes, and went back to bed. Randy was up getting ready for work and I stayed up to read and to listen. He cried and fussed, but certainly not like he did earlier. He quieted down after about half an hour and I peeked in and saw him stading up, leaning his head on the crib rail, and cooing at the big Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal. I went back to bed and must have fallen asleep as I woke up with a start around 7 am and heard nothing. I went in to check on him and there he was, the little prisoner, sitting up, clenching the bars of the crib, face mushed into the bars, snoring away. I lay him on his side, put his lovey in his arms and went back to bed.

He woke at 9 this morning and my fears of him not loving me went right out the window when, as I picked him up out of his crib, he planted a big ol' kiss on me and then proceeded to say "Muh-muh Ba! Ba!" (Which I've taken to mean "Mommy! Bottle!". Sometimes it means "Mommy! Ball!", but since his ball was nowhere in sight, I took it to mean "bottle".) I was right, and we had breakfast and he helped me fold the laundry by taking it all out of the laundry basket and spreading it all over the floor.

At 11:30, he pulled up my shirt and said "Boo" which means "give me some boobs" and I nursed him into his nap.

Tonight, we do it again. Aside from birthing him, this has been the toughest thing in the world. So far. I'm sure that by the time he turns 15 and brings some tramp home (they will ALL be tramps), I'll find some other tough things to deal with.

Self-soothing, loveys, and a side of guilt

Well, after almost 11 months of sleepless nights and a baby who wakes up 2 or 3 times a night, Randy and I decided to teach Dante how to self-soothe and put himself to bed. We watched a program on getting your child to sleep through the night and we decided that tonight was the night to set forth on this perilous adventure. Now, normally our nighttime routine consisted of dinner at 7:30, bath at 8:30, and then Daddy rocks Dante to sleep and then puts him in his crib, whereas Mr. Dante would wake up every 3 or 4 hours throughout the night. Randy was in charge of any fussing pre-midnight (as he has to get up at 5 am for work) and I would take over the night-shift, usually nursing Dante back to sleep in the wee hours of the am.

Tonight, though, we bit the bullet. After regular feeding and bath time, we put Dante to bed AWAKE and gave him his "lovey": a very soft stuffed dog that Randy bought after I gave birth; one of those really soft Gund kind that make you want to snuggle. Well, the second we left the room he began crying. Angry cries. Screaming cries. The cries that say "Why are you abandoning me mommy and daddy?!?!" It was so difficult for me not to run in there and just grab him and hold him and kiss him and tell him I was still here. Oh the pain I felt listening to it. I called my own mom and cried to her that I was a terrible mother for letting my lamb cry. My mom said to me, "Just go in after about 10 minutes, give him some water, tell him you love him, and give him his lovey. He won't hate you. You're not a horrible mother." Thanks mom, but tell me that when my son is not crying 10 feet away and I'm sitting on my ass watching Hell's Kitchen.

Randy and I lay in our bedroom, watching TV. Randy easing my tears and me fighting the urge to comfort my son. I know it's what we have to do. I know that. Doesn't mean I have to like it. We checked on him after 15 minutes or so and gave him water and settled him in with his lovey. He'd cry again and I'd bear it. Eventually his cries became quiet and we hoped he was asleep. WE'd check on him and he'd see us and cry again. This was awful.

Well, it's now been over and hour since we've tried this method. Dante is fussing a bit as I can hear him on the monitor, but he's becoming quieter and I can hear him cooing at the stuffed animal. He is so tired. I hope that he learns to sleep through the night. It will benefit all of us. Right now, my guilt and anxiety is eating away at my stomach. I just want to go in there and tell him it's ok but I know if I do, it will negate everything we're trying to accomplish.

He's quiet now. In a few minutes I'll see if he's asleep, kiss him if he is, and hope he still loves me in the morning.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Damn you Hampton Inn!

Well, Dante's still sick. His fever was still pretty high this morning when he woke up ( I have yet to sleep). I took him to the pediatrician who diagnosed him with having both conjunctivitis (or pink eye) in his left eye and a mild ear infection. Hence, the fever and irritability. I asked the doc if this could have been picked up in a hotel pool and he answered in the affirmative saying that it was probably, if not definitely the cause.

So, Hampton Inn in Naples. Although your beds are extremely comfy and we had a great time..........


**Dante is on antibiotics for the ear and drops for the eye and should be better in a few days***

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Baby's First Emergency Room Visit

We had to take Dante to the ER last night. He had been lethargic and listless all day; just "not himself" and by the time Randy got home from work he was running a slight fever. By dinner time he was up to 102, so we packed up the car, locked up the dogs and headed to the ER. After an hour of being there, we finally were triaged and his temperature was 104. Poor lamb. So they gave him a Motrin Popsicle and we went back out to the waiting room to wait for the doctor. ANOTHER hour later, the doc saw us. By this time, the Motrin had kicked in and we had our spry, happy son back; flirting and waving at all the pretty girls and nurses in the waiting room, playing hide and seek under his blanket, and passing his pacifier back and forth between the three of us in this little game that he's recently invented.

He's ok now. He's been up and down in the fever department all day. The ER doc said it was probably a virus he picked up somewhere and to watch him. I called his pediatrician this morning and she said to keep him hydrated and if his fever persisted to Friday, to bring him in. He seems to be doing much better now, having eaten a VERY big bowl of macaroni and cheese with an Enfamil chaser, all the while trying to grab the spinach off of our dinner plates.

But, of course, as the mommy. I have yet to sleep. I stayed up all night last night just sitting next to his crib, listening to him snore, and watching him sweat out the fever. I finally lay down about 5:30 am when he woke up and needed me. But that's what mommies do, and although my eyes feel as though there is a 700 lb. anvil on each one, I probably will sit up tonight and keep an eye on him as well. He's my lamb!

On a side note: Childrens' ERs are weird. There was a little nook/play area for kids in the corner. It was a few video game systems and a couple of computers. But you know what? No books. Not one single Goodnight Moon or Pokey Little Puppy. I found that sad.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

I'm pulling my hair out right now. Why? Because I'm pissed. I'm pissed because some idiot with a gun decides to go shoot up Virginia Tech and then we've got to listen to all this "god" this and "god" that crap from our idiot president. I'm pissed because this asshole lines up 32 people and shoots them because he's a sick fuck. I'm pissed because now all these "analysts" and classmates are pulling shit out of their asses to explain why he did it. "Oh he wrote morbid plays!"..."Oh he played violent video games!"..."Oh he was quiet and never talked to anyone".

Guess what? I think Kafka's Metamorphosis is pretty morbid. Did he go on a shooting rampage? The Marquis deSade wrote some pretty sick shit. Did he go on a drive-by rapiering and impale a bunch of courtiers? I also think Ann Coulter is the devil incarnate and writes the most horrible hateful drivel, yet she has yet to strap an UZI to her back and take out Congress. (I only wish she would, as these crazed gunmen have the cowardly tendency to off themselves, so thus Ms. Coulter would have to do the same to herself.)

Ugh! It drives me crazy that everyone has to now find the cause for this kid's rampage du jour. I've got idiot analysts on CNN talking about his writings speaking about "chainsaws" and violence. I've got former classmates talking in hindsight about how they always joked he'd be "a shooter". Oh no! Did he play Resident Evil too many times on his Playstation? If that were the case, why have I not strapped a 9mm under my jacket and taken out the Dunkin Donuts down the street for getting my coffee order wrong for the 20th time? I play violent video games. I read disturbing literature. I enjoy a good horror flick. And shocker!....I have no desire to shoot up a school, a church, a library, or anything in between.

Can someone not just snap? Why must everyone have a reason? Why can't this kid have had just some mixed up wires in his head that went kablooie and he went nutso? Why do we have to find the cause? Which leads me to the next pile of horseshit.........Why the hell is our president invoking god and prayers? If there is a god, was he on lunch break when this was happening? Was he busy overseeing the joys of the conflict in the Middle East? Was he standing by as another child in Africa is orphaned by AIDS? Or was he just stuck on a crossword puzzle clue while sitting on the toilet and time got away from him?

I know I know, god fearers will claim, that god had "a plan" for those killed. That they "were needed up in heaven" and that "better things await them up there". Horseshit. Fucking horseshit. Oh sure, god's gonna let you get killed execution style in the prime of your life just so you can go up to heaven and strum a harp for eternity. Better yet, he's going to give you so much pressure and demands from peers, faculty, family and society that you're just going to snap and become a suicidal homicidal maniac for an afternoon and shame your name and your family's name for years to come.

Give me a fucking break. I'm going to go play The Suffering now and blow shit up and execute zombies and monsters and use chainsaws and bazzokas. Then I may go watch The Hills Have Eyes and Hellraiser while munching on popcorn as the small boobied girl gets impaled on a stake. And then maybe, just maybe, I'll go read a really morbid, violent book. How about The Bible?!?!?!?!?!

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Scion Life

We would like to welcome a new addition to our family, Randy's new baby, the 2007 Scion tC in Black Cherry Pearl. Ain't she cute?

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Ghetto Un-Fabulous Updated

***NOTE: My mom read this blog and said that I sounded racist. Let me STRONGLY disagree with that. I don't care whether you are black, white, purple, orange with plaid stripes, this blog had nothing to do with the ethnicity of the players. My beef is with their behavior, NOT their skin tone (or lack thereof in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Throw). If anyone reading this felt that I was being discriminatory in any way, I apologize as that was not my intent. As I said, my beef is with these individuals' actions, not their appearance. You could be Lurr from the Planet Omincron Persei 5 (insert random Futurama reference here) and blasting Stevie Wonder at 2 am from your spaceship would STILL not be ok. *******

Do you ever have those certain people in your neighborhood that just bring down the whole "value" of people in your hood? I mean, they just act so ignorant and classless that any attempts to try and make your street a nice environment go right out the window? I say this because this is the case on our street. Our side of the street is all people who care for their houses and lawns; who make it a point to get to know everyone around them; who help out and pitch in when someone on the street is in need; who are, and forgive me for quoting Mr. Fred Rogers here, Good Neighbors. The opposite side of the street is just that: Opposite.

Example 1: Drunkie McDrunkness
She is the neighbor who has all her windows open along with her front door and likes to blast her stereo. Trust me, there is nothing wrong with Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, P-Funk, and the like, but I swear, if this woman continues to play her stereo at full volume with all her house's orifices open AT 2 O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING, I think I may have to move my speakers to her door, throw on B.Y.O.B by system of a down and blast her ass. Knocking on her door (those few times she has it closed) doesn't do any good, as her music is so loud that she can't hear us knocking. Calling the cops doesn't work because all they do is tell her to turn it down and drive away. Yelling at the top of my lungs that "not everyone in the neighborhood wants to hear your shit" doesn't work either. I mean, it's gotten to the point where we cannot have our windows open at night and I LIKE sleeping with the windows open when it is cool out. Reasoning with the woman is next to impossible for, as you may have guessed from the alias I have assigned her, she not exactly sober most of the time. Oh, and don't let me forget to mention the drunken tirades she likes to go on either on her cell phone or with The Invisible Man. And because she has all her windows and door open, we get to hear every word! Lovely.

Example 2: Mr. Woman Beater aka Thug Wannabe
This is Drunkie McDrunkness's teenage son. He's the epitome of an asshole. Uneducated, unmotivated, immoral and sags his pants so low, I want to just run over to him and pull his damn pants up and tell him to go to school. Fucking Loser. Most recently, we had to call the cops on him as he was beating the shit out of his girlfriend in the front yard, while his mother (see Example 1) was screaming up and down the street about "take em bof ta jail, I ain't takin' it no mo'". Seriously, the dude had his girfriend on the ground and was closed-fist punching her like she was Mike Tyson. And the kicker? We were at a BBQ a week later at a neighbor's house down the street and the two of them showed up all lovey dovey. I wanted to smack that girl, but judging by her taste in men, she may have wanted to be my best friend if I did that. Wonderful.

Example 3: Mr. and Mrs. Let's Throw Shit and Scream at Eachother on the Porch
This is the newest addition to our street. They, of course, are on the opposite side as they enjoy having HUGE verbal fights right out on their front porch. And they like to throw things. Tonight, for example, Mr. Throw decided to toss the motorcycle at the house for some reason or another. There I was lying peacefully in bed, doing Sunday's puzzle, when I hear a crash outside. Now, it sounded REALLY close to our driveway and my car so I run out to the front porch only to see, across the street, Mr. and Mrs. Throw going at it. Again. It's kind of sad, but not really, but a few weeks ago they had a "Just Married" painted on their van. Awww how cute. Hell, they've got 3 kids was about time no? Before they were just boyfriend and girlfriend throwing things at eachother, but now they can do it as husband and wife! Excellent!

Example 4: The I'm Too Lazy to Get Out of My Car, so I'll just Lean on my Horn
Ok, so this doesn't really constitute a neighborhood person, but it's the "friends" of a person so tough shit deal with it. Ok, what does it take to GET OUT of your car and walk the TEN steps to the front door of your pal's house, knock, and say hello. Why do you have to be such a lazy mother fucker that you just pull up and HONK continually until the person comes out. You can't even just honk once; like a courtesy honk; a little . NO! You have to drive up, bass blasting out of your car like you're the VH-1 Hip Hop Honors and LEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNN on that horn. Are your pants too saggy that you can't get out of the car? Is the Hummer that you're driving too precious to leave parked for 10 seconds? And why is it always that y'all seem to go visiting right when Dante has gone down for a nap. Do you have baby radar that lets you know when children are asleep so you can go honk??!?!?! Bastards.

Ok, so I'm not saying that we're perfect neigbors. I mean, yes, we DO have skulls and gargoyles on our roof and we do keep most of our Halloween decorations up all year. BUT! We keep our house nice, we mow our lawn, we keep our noise down to a minimum, and most of all we are CONSIDERATE of the people around us. So many people in our neighborhood are trying to make this a nicer 'hood, and we've got these idiots who screw it up.

I think I'll bulldoze that whole side of the street and put up a playground.

Saturday, March 3, 2007

When it rains, it pours........

It's been a week. A week. One of those "where is the nearest hole I can jump into" week. It didn't start out that way, but here we are, Friday night and my hair is still falling out. So, let's start at the beginning.

Last Sunday, we slept in, had a nice breakfast at IHOP where Dante's girlfriend Delreese (a very pretty woman who has known us since Dante was still a twinkle in Randy's eye) served us up some yummy omelets and pancakes. Dante had his favorite fruit cup and juice, while staring lovingly at his Nubian princess. Seriously, the kid is ga-ga over her, and rightfully so. She's quite the awesome chick. Anyhow, over our eggs and toast, Randy and I decide to go to Sawgrass Mills Mall for the day and just walk around. After some serious debating and dicussing, we realized that we had been really frugal for the past few weeks and had relieved ourselves of 98% of our debts, and thus we decide that we are going to sink the dough into an Xbox 360. We had considered the Wii or the PS3, but the Wii is next to impossible to find and the PS3 comes with a hefty $599 price tag. So we decided on the $399 Xbox 360, and a game for each of us. Why not? We had been saving really well and taking good care of our finances. So we splurged, bought the 360 and Tomb Raider: Legend and Lost Planet.

On our way home from the mall, Dante began fussing in his car seat. He was sleepy and there was traffic, so we were not moving fast enough to lull him to nap. He was hollering up a storm back there and there was no pleasing him. I handed him my cell phone to soothe him, as the lights and the *boops* and *beeps* always calm him at home and he quickly quieted down and we spent the rest of the car trip in peace. Upon arriving home, I retrieved my cell phone from my little lamb only to find that it was DRENCHED in slobber. So, I turned it off, removed the battery and let it dry. Well, guess what? My cell phone is broken. My brand new I-never-get-insurance-on-these-damn-things-and-I-just-used-my-$150-rebate-to-buy-it-cell phone is soaked in baby drool and the keypad no longer functions properly. Sure, I can receive phone calls and text messages, but I can no longer access my menu, my camera, my settings or my contact list. Nevermind when I try and press *Talk*. My phone goes wacko and jumps through a thousand screens in a second. Great. Just great. Now I need a new phone. And we just sank over $500 into a damn Xbox 360.

But it doesn't end there. Tuesday the CV joints on Randy's car start acting up. Randy says not to worry as he can ride them out for a few weeks while we save up the extra $$$ to get new ones. His car runs fine and it is not really a safety issue...........................................wait for it..................................................

Guess who calls me from the side of the road Thursday night? No, not the Easter Bunny. No, not Santa Claus. No, not Condoleeza Rice. If you guessed Randy, *ding ding ding* you are right. His car blew up on 95 South and Atlantic coming home from work. And guess what? I need to call him a tow truck and have it towed to our house. BAM! There goes $120. Oh wait! Now he has to go buy new CV joints..................$214 out the window!

Not over yet...........So Randy has his car up on jacks today all ready to change out the CV joints and fix his car. And what does he find? The Hub and the bearing that ties the steering knuckle to the joints and said Hub is also in need of repair. $90 to Advance Auto Parts YET AGAIN, AND!!!...I now am the epitome of the redneck wife as we have a CAR UP ON BLOCKS in our front yard.

I'm glaring at my Xbox 360 right now. But you know what, Tomb Raider effing rocks and we'll be okay. We've got 23 people coming over for a cookout tomorrow. It's our monthly South Florida Punk Parents Group meeting. Randy's cooking ribs and all the cool moms and dads and babies will be there.

But it has been a week.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Babies, Free stuff, and a Pea Pod Sling

Let me just say this before I begin. FREE STUFF ROCKS! Ok, with that out of the way, we went to the gigantic Baby Faire (it's much more sophisticated with an "e") today and boy did we have fun. First off, we went last year when I was 3 months pregnant and had an okay time. I don't think we had as much fun last year because 1. we didn't have a baby, 2. we didn't know what to expect, and 3. we were so completely overwhelmed by all the "stuff" and everyone getting in our faces with bags of said "stuff" that we just couldn't enjoy ourselves.

This year, though, with a 7 month old in tow and a PLETHORA of experience as a mom (insert sarcasm here), I think Randy and I were better prepared and thus were able to have fun.

Ok, let's talk about all the goodies we got. Sippy cups, bibs, formula, rice cereal, bath bubbles, bath mats, placemats, pacifiers, mints, magnets, and a whole mess of coupons for everything under the sun! We love that! We got to see so many vendors and chat with so many people. Randy bought a sling carrier at Pea Pods and we also got Dante a cool black tank top with a Dragon on it from this Alternative Baby shop. We also had a blast because we met up with other members of the SoFla PunkParents group I started. Bonnie and Braydon, Veezie and Julien, Coral and Dekker (who is Dante's BFF and whose cheeks I stole earlier and found in my pocket just now), and Tony, Adrienne and Kaili.

Dante had fun as well. He played in the special Babies R Us area for infants and enjoyed a lights and sounds table. He also met a little boy named Elian who, at 7 months old as well, weighed in at 26 pounds!!!!! To put it in perspective, our friend Wendy has a 17 month old who weighs 25 pounds. Dante, at 7 months, weighs 18. This kid Elian was huge! Dante also competed in his first sporting event: The Baby Race. Yes, with a cheerleading team of Veezie, Julien, Tony, Adrienne and Kaili, Dante came in 4rth place in the Baby Races (out of 5 babies). He would have won had it not been for his intense concentration in examining his foot, the line drawn on the floor, the cute girl next to him, air, an ant walking by, his foot again, his navel, and the line on the floor again. My screaming and waving the TV remote control that we brought from home at the Finish line did not phase him at all. Funny, but at home I can't stop him from crawling and following me everywhere. When I need him to crawl, he doesn't. All in all, Dante ran (or rather crawled) a good race and did his best. Besides the kid that won was like 8 years old and on steroids so it was a fix to begin with. Hmph!

It was a fun day. Lots of goodies. We entered lots of sweepstakes (and if we win even one I'll be amazed). Now, I think we're going to crash.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

One for the Books....

Before I start this blog, let me preface with this. I know I look weird. To me, I think I look normal, but I realize that to the unwashed masses, I look weird. I'm a whole lotta woman with a whole lotta tattoos and a head full of blood red and black hair. You can see me coming a mile away (and see me GOING a mile away so I've been told) and I know that I am not your Laura Ashley "norm". With that being said, I am used to the sideways glances, the comments, the "nudge nudge look behind you at that girl", but NOTHING prepared me for the audacity and rudeness I experienced today. Nothing.

I'm standing outside of Sweet Tomatoes waiting for my pal Veezie and her son Julien to meet me for lunch. As I stand there, with Dante in his stroller, two women approach the entrance and as they walk in, one of them, very loudly and eloquently says, "My god, I would hate to be that baby and have to look at that thing that is my mother every day. I feel so sorry for that child to have a mother like that". Ok. Did she think I wouldn't hear her? Do tattoos and dyed hair imply deafness? Or did she think I was too smacked out on crack and heroin to comprehend the English language? Did she think I was from the planet Vulgartron and did not speak Earthling? Seriously. I was floored at this woman.

Now, normally when people make comments or do the nudge nudge or are starey mcstarers, I let it go. Sometimes, I'll give a sneer or an evil eye, but a majority of the time I'm just like, fuck it , they're idiots and move on. Today, something snapped in me and I couldn't let this woman get away with talking to me like that. I looked at her flatly and said, "Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that? And where the hell do you get off feeling sorry that my son has a mother like me? Have you looked in the mirror lately you fat troll? I guarantee you I have more class and education in my pinky than you will ever have you stupid bitch". Granted, the "stupid bitch" part may have negated the whole "class and intelligent" statement but I was pissed and I was pissed black. She of course, just waddled into the restaurant with her party, grinning sheepishly, with her gaping maw.

I was so flustered that when Veezie and Julien showed up I just couldn't let it go. I just couldn't. So we went inside and I pointed them out and we made it a point to sit ourselves RIGHT beside them. Just to make the woman uncomfortable. I swear, it took every ounce of strength in me not to "accidentally" spill a bowl of hot chowder on her. Finally after a while, the woman got up (it's a salad bar place) presumably to get something else to eat. At that moment, one of the other women at her table, who had walked in with her and heard what she said and consequently what I said, came over to me and basically begged for forgiveness for her friend's rudeness saying, "I'm so sorry she said those things. She has a problem not keeping her comments to herself. She had no right to say it. You're a great mom. No one should be spoken to like that", and yadda yadda yadda. I told the woman I appreciated her apology but it should not have been she that was doing it and that if her friend had Tourette's (which she didn't; she was just a rude asshole) that maybe she should get help.

So that was my encounted of the year. I swear, sometimes I think I've seen and heard it all and then another dumb fuck comes along and clears the slate and I have to start over.

I didn't even get any soup I was so mad.

Saturday, January 27, 2007

The Story So Far....

Well, it's been a little over 6 months since I "officially" became a mom. I say "officially" because I technically became a mom when I got pregnant, but to avoid any political/religious/ethical/idiotic arguments as to when a baby is a baby, let's just keep the quotes around "officially" and leave it at that. I'm still pro-choice and having a baby did not change my mind in any way shape or form as to a woman's right to choose, so don't try to convince me otherwise.With that said, I thought I would take some time to reflect back on the last 6 months and how it has been becoming this "mother" I am now. I think I can sum it all up best with two words:

Holy Shit.

Now this two word phrase can be applied in so many ways as to the trials, tribulations and joys that becoming a mom entails. Holy Shit as in "Holy shit those contractions hurt", or "Holy Shit I made a human being", or even the "Holy Shit how can something so small make something like that in their diaper?". All in all, though, these two words have touched on every level of my emotional and physical being in becoming a parent. Holy Shit the metaphor, the figurative, the literal, and the just plain expletive. Motherhood defined.

All joking aside, it has been an experience. I look at Dante everyday and cannot believe that I MADE him. My body MADE him. Sure, Randy helped with his fantastic aim and super sperm, but in the end, I built a tiny human inside my body. One day the world's population was X and the next day, it was X plus 1. And I did that. It's absolutely mind boggling. Certain people have said to me, "How can you not believe in god? Don't you see god when you look into your child's eyes?". To which I frankly reply, "I see evolution and Darwinism and science and biology when I look into his eyes". I see the universe and, as Carl Sagan used to call us, "star stuff". I see Randy, I see myself, I see the wonder of nature. It's incredible to watch as Dante develops. I mean, where is that little larva I brought home from the hospital that was only concerned with sleeping, shitting and eating? He was this little bug; so small and so helpless. Now, at almost 7 months, Dante is crawling at Mach 10; eating like he's Andre the Giant; grabbing, touching, and putting everything he can find into his mouth; and, the best part, he's developing a personality. He's becoming human. He laughs at my funny dancing, he cries when I leave a room, he throws a fit when I take the remote control out of his mouth, and he nestles into my chest when he's tired. And I fucking MADE that. (once again, props go out to Randy for the catalyst).

With all of Dante's developments it's hard not to see the changes in myself as well. I used to be concerned about getting to the hottest club, or dancing all night, or the latest CD, or staying out until the wee hours of the morning, or the next party, or which scene I was going to try to make, or which photographer had to take my picture, or what magazine was going to write an article about me. All those concerns I had about myself are gone now. My nights are spent reading Pat the Bunny or Goodnight Moon. They're spent doing Infant Massage on a tired baby. They're spent falling asleep at 10 pm only to be woken up at 1 am because someone needs a rocking or two. I've traded in my black patent leather stilettos, for rubber soled Skechers. I've hung up the vinyl dresses and corsets and traded them in for coulottes and t-shirts. I've stopped getting party passes and drink tickets to the hottest nightclubs and instead am clipping coupons for Huggies and Pampers from the Sunday Paper.

And you know what? I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I used to think I knew it all. Living in New York, running a nightclub, taking full advantage of the City that Never Sleeps. Had you spoken to me 4 years ago, I would have laughed at the idea of children. "I hate kids. I'm never having kids", I would have told you. A divorce and the right man coming along told me otherwise. I never knew how much I wanted children until I met Randy. My mother used to always say to me, when I was married to the first one, "You don't want children because you haven't met the right man yet". How right she was. These days I know I don't know it all. But I do know that in just 6 months, I have realized how great it is to be a mom. Now, I'm sure that when Dante hits his terrible two's or is fifteen and wants to date or is 32 and wants to marry some girl (who will not be good enough for him I am sure), I will say it's not so great being mom, but for now....It's pretty fucking awesome.