Tits, Ass & Advertisments

I've got more bizarre photos on my cell phone than Lindsay Lohan.  During a recent slideshow I learned (ok, confirmed) that LA does at least three things better than any other city: tits, ass and advertising.

Good news is I have decided to share some of the data in Round Two of "My Life: According to My Media Card".  Bad news is the most XXX thing on my phone is my toddler's bare bum.  That said, it will still entertain more than Round Two of this weekend's Bradley/Pacquiao fight.

This caught Amanda Bynes eye riiiight before her latest hit & run.

Mayor Bloomberg's next target.

Sweet.  At least I'm doing something right.

For more information, tune into "Mama Drama", premiering July 18th on Vh1

True, but this needlepoint does not help the situation.

Do they sell good handbags there, too??

If you've seen this sign outside of LA, send me a pic and I'll show you my package.

Ironically, this happens a lot in Hollywood, as well.

My fave & I'm still determined to find it's creator, who I'm hoping is Andy Garcia in "When A Man Loves A Woman"

And just in case you are the type of person that really believes in signs:

"My Life: According to My Media Card" is inspired by Mindy Kaling's fabulous book "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" and the first installment can be seen here:

http://dirtylaundryanddirtydiapers.blogspot.com/2012/04/mindy-kaling-made-me-do-this.html

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Move Over, Barack Obama! Make Room for Gadget the Beagle

I’ve been up and over Laurel Canyon so many times that I can tell when the Goldbergs (Bermans, Liebermans or Kleins) finally update their groovy 1970’s wood paneling.  Unfortunately, I don’t have the same skill set for George Clooney’s home, but I do know he lives in the ‘hood.

A few weeks ago, Clooney hosted a fundraiser at his home to support Obama 2012.  I know this not only because it was all over the news, but also because Laurel Canyon was covered with banners addressed to the Prez, and traffic was even more of a bitch than usual.

But move over, Barack Obama, because Gadget the Beagle is in town.  Here’s how I know.

Over the weekend a neighbor came by to inquire about a loose Beagle.  I hadn’t seen the pup, but promised sincerely to keep an eye out.  The next day there was a visit from someone new, looking for the same dog.  When asked if he was the owner, the man replied “I’m just a volunteer”.  (I repeat: a volunteer)

As it turns out, Gadget the Beagle was recently rescued from a medical testing laboratory.  Still timid and adjusting to life outside the lab, the anxious pooch was able to escape the (hopefully) watchful eye of his dog sitter, and hasn’t been seen since.

(among his many talents, Gadget is quite photogenic & speaks Español)

Late last night, I saw a Prius cruising the neighborhood (albeit in an environmentally friendly way) decorated with info about poor missing Gadget.  Thankfully, word has really gotten out.  For each sign previously mentioning Obama 2012, there are 10 new ones featuring Gadget.  A large reward was been put up for his safe return.

Still, I can’t help but wonder how much more closely people have read notifications regarding Gadget’s disappearance than that of the latest Amber Alert.  Honestly, really think about that for a second...  (I’ll wait for you.)

Whether it’s his smile, his story of survival or the sweet ransom paid for his safe return, this Beagle has become the hottest thing (near) Hollywood.

I certainly hope that he and all those who have lost their way find a way back home.

What Me, You, Justin Bieber & Kate Upton Have In Common

I hate to break it to you, but Justin Bieber poops.  Hell, so does Kate Upton.

In fact, everyone poops- and I’ve done the research to prove it.

Still, it’s a tough pill for some people to swallow.  Why is it that celebrities doing everyday things will never cease to amaze us?  Let’s face it.  A snapshot of Ashton Kutcher picking up a box of magnum condoms will sell more magazine covers than everything with the word politics, combined.

Unfortunately, I am part of the problem.

I snapped this slightly disrespectful and definitely somewhat stalker-ish photo at the playground this weekend.  Seated in the sand are Elizabeth Banks and Jenna Fischer, each with their babes.

Honestly, they’d have gone completely unnoticed if not for my uncanny/creepy ability to recognize a familiar voice.  My first reaction (obviously, “oh shit, Pam is cheating on Jim!”) was quickly replaced with a survey of their baby products and some hardcore eavesdropping.

Here is the exclusive groundbreaking news I uncovered:  They are just Moms.

Most of the chatter I heard was over fear of flying not with a terrorist, but with an infant.  This is totally understandable, seeing as it’s questionable to me who would be discriminated against more at LAX.

One discouraged her son from throwing sand while the other dusted a few grains of it off the nip of a sippy cup and handed it right back to hers.  Though shockingly not in yoga pants, their clothes were understated, and the only glam squad within a hundred yard radius was for Barbie.  (Not a Mattel one, but the porn star down the street…)

Bottom line: they were normal, simple, regular moms.  Ones that, I certainly hope, would join in my efforts to stop all other mothers from creating something like this (which I discovered in a doctor’s office) ever, ever again:

I'm So Glad Phillip Phillips Won But This American Idol Moment Gave Me Nightmares

I couldn't sing the phone book if Randy Jackson paid me too.  Hell, I can barely sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" without toddlers booing me.  Therefore, my critiques of the musical performances on American Idol hold absolutely no weight.  But a wedding proposal?  [insert record scratch here]

Maybe it's because I had a front row seat for this...  (OK, clearly it was second row, but still.)

Jake & Vienna in Saint Lucia

Or this...

Jillian with Ed, Kiptyn & Reid in Maui

Or, maybe it's because despite not seeing their proposal first hand, I saw these two fall in love and then helped them plan the wedding of a lifetime...

(Cut me some slack people... I gave birth exactly 29 days later)

But I do feel entitled to have an opinion on your wedding proposal- especially if it broadcast on live television.  For that reason, I have not been able to get this image out of my head for the last 24 hours.

So while I mean not one iota of disrespect to Sir Ryan Seacrest, I must apologize in advance to Diana DeGarmo and Constantine, I mean, Ace Young.

First things first.  It just me or does this not look like a skit from SNL?

(Dear @Possessionista, the question is rhetorical, but WTF is she wearing??)

Then, I put the terrible wardrobe, product placement and "butt mistaken for cheek" implants aside and looked for the beauty... the romance... the connection...  But all I kept seeing was Ryan Seacrest wondering:

WHO THE HELL ARE THESE PEOPLE?

KL, Out.

219 Days Until I See If Ellen Degeneres Fits In My Christmas Stocking

A good mother always plans ahead.  She knows how many sippy cups she can fill before the milk runs dry, how many McNuggets she can fling to the back of her minivan before rushing to another drive through, and of course, how many shopping days she has until Christmas.

219.

So in celebration of Christmas 2012 being (basically) right around the corner, here are some suggestions for how to let your mommy-friends know you have no freaking clue how to shop for a baby.

Hang with my daughter for the day after she has wiped out trying to walk in these and then we'll see just how "Heelarious" they really are.

Unless these are real diamonds intended to be cashed in for her college fund, please leave the blinged out paci for Baby Maxwell.  Love for pacifiers is totally monogamous, and I doubt this is "the one".

If you buy my kid even one book of  "1,000 Princess Stickers", I am totally doing this to your car.  And your private parts. 

OK!  OK!  I'll give some positive reinforcement.  If you buy any of these items, you get a gold star.

365 days a year, 6 diapers a day, 3 years in diapers.  You do the math (or, also buy me a calculator).

Six years of parenting and the only clothing I have ever needed to buy is PJs, but I get it.  You'd rather buy my daughter her first pageant dress and have it be used solely as dolly wardrobe than the Dora pajamas she'll wear until they need patches.

Not Uncle Buck, but Uncle Puck.  (And quick, before she thinks chicken fingers and mac'n'cheese make the world go 'round....)

But please.  While you're at it, don't forget Mom.  My... I mean HER... list includes:

This.

And this.

And this, in an extra-large, please.

If you don't know why she needs this, you shouldn't be reading... anything.

And of course, this.  I know it's a tall order, but I feel like I need a little more of her... in my actual living room.

Now hurry up and get shopping.  You just lost a day.

I Finally Love Giuliana Rancic More Than Beer Pong

Not gonna lie.  I prefer several E! News correspondents over Giuliana Rancic.  In fact, I’d rather listen to the stage security guard on the mouse that ran under the catering table than Giuliana on just about anything… other than her recent baby news.

Ever since Giuliana and Bill Rancic announced that they are having a baby via a surrogate, I can’t get enough of them.  Here’s why.

I remember the first time I worked up the nerve to use the phrase, “when we have kids someday” to my then boyfriend, now husband.  His response, “you mean IF we have kids”, concerned me such that I began brainstorming the perfect dating website username.  Then he clarified his thought.

“Children are a gift, and not everyone is lucky enough to have them”.

I was just out of college.  I was young, healthy, and could play a mean game of beer pong.  A fertility problem was the furthest thing from my mind.

Time passed.  As my drinking skills began to rust, my biological clock started to tick.  Suddenly, it was time.  Be it luck or science, I had no difficulty getting pregnant with either of my “gifts”.  Still, I had learned something.

Many of us take fertility for granted.

As teenagers (ahem, young adults) we damn our fertility, or use it as a big chance to score the upcoming season of 16 & Pregnant.

Nearer to childbearing years, fertility is something we keep in the back pocket of our favorite jeans for safekeeping.

Then one day, you’re ready.  You stretch your arm out around the curves you will never have again, and reach for the pocket- but it’s empty.

Cue Giuliana.  No designer jeans or Hot Hollywood [insert career here] could buy what she was looking for.  My heart broke for her, as it does for any woman who struggles with infertility.

But as the saying goes, “only if you have been in the deepest valley, can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain”. 

I cannot begin to imagine the pain that Giuliana & Bill have endured, but I do know how overcome with joy I became at the announcement that they, too, will know life’s greatest gift.

(PS. I just quoted Richard Nixon with regard to Giuliana Rancic.  Beat that, Oprah.)

LA Parent Magazine Posted An Article About My Bosom

Yes, it's true.  The website for LA Parent Magazine posted an article about my bosom.  Thankfully, I am the one that wrote it.  Whether you are a parent, have considered becoming one, or even have one, you should read it.  (Pay attention people... that definitely means you.)  I hope you'll enjoy it- and if you do, please leave a review.

http://losangeles.parenthood.com/directory/article/no-breast-for-the-best.html