This post is brought to you by Facebook and its new anti-privacy rules, because it was a friend of a friend who I have never heard of who posted this photo and my friend, a guy I actually do know, “liked” it.

Which apparently means the whole world gets to see it now, in case you just got out of that coma don’t know Facebook is raping you daily, right now.

Hold onto your britches. Take a gander at the girly cupcakes:
Puts new meaning in the term variety pack, eh?

Okay, focus, readers. Are ya with me? I posted this because I want to ask if you think it was would be outrageoushorrendousdisgusting of me to show this photo to my eight-year-old daughter?

Purely, a hypothetical question, Mrs. Child Protective Services, for the purposes of discussion.

I mean, if I did, I wonder if my child would guess right away what she was looking at or needed a hint from me.

I wonder if she’d then drop her jaw first, and then with a twinkle in her eye, her own drawers to show me hers as comparison to the frosted ones.

I also wonder if young girls should possess a relaxed, secure knowledge of their amazing, delicious cupcakes body.

Purely hypothetical, ya’ll. Don’t go get your panties in a–oh, never mind.

What do you think? Would you show a daughter and not a son? Is age a factor?

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Does anyone like endings? They seem to just stress us out and make us reach for a big, stiff hey, hey watch your language, buddy drink, I was gonna say.
If you’re over the age of nine months days, you know that they are a huge drag. Can you ever feel happy about an ending? Well, possibly a few people can, I guess…
But we’re not talking about them. Pay attention.

We non-paying customers seem to voluntarily head straight into things that seem good or enriching or fun, but clearly have an ending. Relationships, vacations, chocolate chocolate cake…but my best example for pretty much everything is television.

Pick a show you love. Watch it. Think about the characters in your off-time you do that, too, right?. Get involved. Guess what? Canceled! Even those stalwart classics that we thought would never end, do , I’m looking at you As the World Turns.
Yes, we’re completely bummed and left with a big, empty feeling when our show is done.

And yet, what do we do?

Thanks to Netflix, not only do we start watching shows again, we pick shows that we already know before we even watch Episode 1 have been canceled.
And frankly, no matter how many times I watch that Firefly series, knowing it will end, I nonetheless feel surprised and ripped off when I get to the last episode.

So, what do we do with that? We mourn, we pace around, we vent, we grieve, we vent we polish off that bottle of malbec, we shake our heads at the injustice, and then like a strung-out addict in a filthy, back alley with two dollars, a friend and a rat scurrying across our ankles, we go back to search Netflix for more.
Surely, this time we won’t be disappointed…

Got any new (or “new” old) shows you’re watching this fall?

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Who does she love? Who does she hate? Who is she never going to let set foot in our house ever ever (not ever) again until possibly tomorrow?
‘Cuz one day, she’ll have friends, and not Facebook “friends” she has never met, but actual people who understand her, people who get her jokes and her strikeouts, people who she’ll totally jump in front of a bus for or at least sit through their looooooong venting sessions well, more likely her long venting session and nod compassionately, pretending to listen because they love you even though you’re a psycho.
And if she ever blows up and loses a kindred spirit, she will find it leaves a permanent mark worse than that Sharpie marker incident. Yes, friends need to roll with a friend’s occasional sassiness, absolutely particularly if she’s freakin’ hilarious, right?!

But sooner rather than later, I hope she learns quicker than her mommy a smidge of gentleness with those special ones.

Is that even teachable? And how?

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But every now and then one pops up from the outside, directly in your face.

And what is a blog for if not to vent about idiots? I mean, really, I could lose my blogger membership card if I miss this opportunity.

Here’s my most recent idiot encounter:

So, I’m taking another improv class in a complex scheme to avoid housework, taught by him here, and one of the students is a guy who’s been in a couple of other improv classes with me. We won’t name names, but let’s just say his name rhymes with “gall.”

We hadn’t been in a class together for at least six months, I’m a little nervous about not censoring myself like I do to live in my world, and Gall sits down next to me.

Hey, how’s it going, Gall? I say.

Oh, great…been seeing some plays, this and this… Have you seen those?

No, I’m doing good getting here, ya know.

Do you have kids?

Yea, I have an eight year old.

YOU have an eight year old?? Sheer shock at this modern medical miracle began to register on his old face.

As I see this I start to think, just how old do you think I am??

Have you ever thought of coloring your hair? I mean, you could look at least ten years younger!

Gee, Gall, have you ever thought of penis enlargement surgery?

Well, actually, some people compliment me on my silver hair…

He rolls his eyes (!) in a you’re-gonna-believe-that? and that my wife left me? look.

Mind if I ask you a personal question because I have no social chip in my head and I’ll keep going until you shoot me?

You mean another?? I say.

How old are you?

I’m 39, or possibly just barely 45.

[Audible gasp] I hoped thought you were at least 55 and single!

I grab my right hip.

Do you think I need to go on a diet, too, and get rid of this, you fr*&%#in idiot??

I confess, face-to-face, I am a relatively sweet particularly when sober Texas girl who gets speechless at others’ less-than-polite commentary. Hence, the improv classes.

What do you do with these people when they pop up??!

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“True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and choice.”
- Samuel Johnston

“My friends are my estate.”
- Emily Dickinson

“I count myself in nothing else so happy
As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends.”
- William Shakespeare, Richard II

“Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together.”
- Woodrow Wilson

Friends, they get us through rough patches; they celebrate the sunshine with us. The dearest ones see through our bullshit outward mask and into our true being and still drink with speak to us anyway.

What can possibly be better than having good friends?

I’ll tell you what–
Having good friends with chickens!

Thank you, good friends! This egg lover feels grateful for you every morning!

What do you think? Should we get chickens at chez Let the dog in?!

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Then, two days into it you realize you have serious crankiness issues.

And not just with the kids, but with yourself.

We were going to make art books. Instead, we are making ice cream runs.

We were going to go to the beach. Day 1, we got the bottom of our foot scraped by barnacles and are “never going back to the beach again!”

We were going to read, read, read. Instead, we are marathoning Phineas and Ferb.

I guess there is still too much time to correct course, but each summer I forget my margarita recipe the uphill battle from the year before. Same soldiers, different battlefield…

So, how’s your summer going? Are you doing what you intended to do?

And most importantly, do you have a good, strong cocktail recipe to share?

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So, what’s a law-abiding citizen to do? Call the governmental office? Get the low down on such situations?

As if. It’s 2011. I googled, of course. But I got distracted.

You google this phrase: “accidentally threw away.”

Guess what? People are freakin’ nuts have thrown away tons of embarrassing stuff by accident and then went online to admit it to the world.

You name it, it’s been thrown away: homework, earrings, Macbook Air computer, a mattress with $1 million dollars in it, her diaphragm sorry, dude, her birth control pills maybe it’s just not meant to be, a high school diploma, a retainer sorry, mom and dad, car registration not me, of course! okay, yes, me, grandma’s urn (well, donated anyways…), tools (not an issue here, as the Hubs never puts throws anything away, let alone his precious tools!), personal memorabilia of your spouse’s sure, that was an accident…, concert tickets, and worst of all, original artwork at a gallery (actually, it was shaped like a garbage bag, so whatdya gonna do?).

No wonder our landfills are land fulls!

Come on, your turn. Confess. No one is looking really, that’s true, not counting my mom, what did you accidentally throw away?

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I’m sure you’ve heard about that doll, the Breast Milk Baby, and I read a few articles on parent reactions to it.

(Hey, it’s got a pacifier! Some parents would object to that!)

I figured all the hub-bub was mostly media created on a slow news day. Real people wouldn’t object to such a basic concept, right?

But after reading a local Facebook friend’s poll that asked if his friends would buy such a doll, I guess I was wrong once again.

Stunned is how I felt reading the 40 comments about how “creepy” and “gross” that sounded, how little kids don’t “need to be exposed to such things at such a young age”, and even that it “might encourage earlier sexual behavior.”

*Blink*

Are you people for realz?! A doll that holdontoyourhat doesn’t come with a bottle and pretends to be fed from a mother?! This is outrageous??

No, I’m outraged that so many in our society wring offensiveness out of a basic, healthy, mammalian behavior.

God forbid young girls (and boys, right?!) learn at “an early age” that boobs have a purpose slightly more important than bouncing in a wet t-shirt on a beach in a reality show.

Yes, Virginia, my girls had a job and they did that job well!

We’re not all livin’ on a farm anymore, and all our pets are fixed, so just where is a kid going to stumble onto casual viewing of breastfeeding? Maybe at their house (if they’re not an only child like mine), maybe at a park, but mostly nowhere.

And is breastfeeding sexy? How will donning that toy bib and holding a plastic doll up to the flower nipple inspire hot, lascivious thoughts? (I’m talking about the intended use of a suckling doll, people; don’t go all Deliverance on me now!)

News flash: If you’re really breastfeeding a baby, then you are sleep-deprived, undernourished and overtired. Yeah, that’s hawt.

You wanna complain that dolls should not have specific functions, like walking, talking, pooping, growing hair, or breastfeeding, and that kids should to pretend that Ken has a wiener their dolls can do all those things. Fine. I hear ya. I’m all for imagining you’re on a hot beach with a sweating Paolo and margaritas wild characters and crazy story lines.

But object to this doll for these other reasons? Laughable. A disgrace to mammals everywhere.

What do you think about a breastfeeding doll? Do tell!

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Aren’t I special? Not sure why I don’t have more friends…

Turns out, they wanted to ask about my dog, yes, the one that ruins sex lives and lets herself out when impatient.

Why is it, people, when asked about our pets, we LIE?

Oh, wirehaired pointing griffons are fabulous if you like bed hogs! stupendous if you didn’t want those blueberry muffins you left to cool on the counter! and love people but will kill small animals given the chance!

And you do the same with kids, don’t you? Admit it.

It’s great to be a parent if you don’t need any time to yourself! Kids say such brilliant things like telling their teachers your true age and weight! And they are so creative in how they use food coloring like fingerpaints on kitchen counters and torture your dog so they get growled at the rest of their life!

Yes, ask me anytime and I will tell you it is awesome having a wirehaired pointing griffon. And a beautiful 7 year-old girl.

Sometimes, for all the hassles, you do get a good shot out of it, though…

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