T minus one

The day we've all been dreading is nigh. Despite my pleas and my prayers Linda is moving to Leesburg tomorrow .

Obviously I have a plan. During the move, I'll be watching 3 of her 4 children. I'll send her this text.

Planning to kidnap your BFFs kids? There's an App for that.

Unfortunately it probably won't work. Linda knows me well enough that she's stashing her spare kid somewhere else.

Paperwork Hell

What I'm looking for:

Noa's camp medical form that took the pediatrician 2 weeks, cost me $20 and was due 6 weeks ago.

What I found instead:

The obedience school diploma
for a dog that's been dead for 25 years. (1)

I think it's fair to say that I need a better system.

1) What do you call the dog who graduates last in his class from obedience school? Doctor. Wait, wrong joke.

Le excuse

I don't know. There's no excuse. I've been doing stuff, interesting (1) stuff. Plenty to tell you. I'm in a good mood, getting my RDA of sunshine and exercise. I just haven't been feeling writey lately.

But then the fabulous Mouthy Housewives asked me (ME!) to guest post. (2) Giving assvice (3) is my speciality (4) along with making monte cristos and, well, I'm running low on specialities these days.

So go over there and give me some love. Make those mouthy Housewives wonder why it took them so damn long.


1) Interesting if you're my mother or my shrink
2) About fucking time.
3) Advice that comes out of my ass, duh.
4) Pronounced Spesh E ality.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday, Federal Holiday edition

I can't be the only one stymied by what I found under the couch today:

Either my husband is moon lighting for the cable company
or the couch is haunted.

Le Post that sits and sits because I can't think of a title.

Tuesday will be Charles and my 14th wedding anniversary. The traditional gift is ivory, but I'm going with the more contemporary gift: the world's largest gummy bear. (1) (2)

Photo borrowed from the awesome folks at Vat19.com

I got the idea, no kidding, from Kelly on the Real Housewives of New York, who tweeted about it, after complaining that she didn't eat processed food, while shoving gummy bears and jelly beans in her mouth. Because nobody embodies a healthy, happy relationship like Kelly.

Secret to our lengthy nuptials? Separate bathrooms. It sure as hell isn't our communications skills. To wit:

Charles: I saw the beginning of a good movie last night on HBO, we should put it on our Netflix queue.

Me: I thought we canceled HBO.

Charles: We did, that's why we should see if it's on Netflix.

Me: Did they not turn the HBO off? Do we need to call Directv again?

Charles: No they turned it off, we're good.

Me: I'm really stymied here. How did you see this movie?

Charles: I watched it on HBO last night.

Me:

Charles: In the hotel.

Me:

Charles: In Boston.

Me:

Charles: Where I was last night.

Me:

Charles: You did notice I wasn't here last night? (3)

We had another little snafu when I got stuck at an appointment and I texted him to ask if he could pick Eli up at a friend's house on his way home from work and he replied

NO

and then a minute later

PROB

which I interpreted as No and then Probably, which I thought was a strange response because I'm at the doctor and it's not like Eli has mastered the suburban public transportation schedule, but he actually meant NO PROBLEM. (4)

Then again, who needs communication when you have a 5 pound gummy bear?

1) I made a similar joke on our 12th anniversary.
2) He got me an ivory patent leather Coach bag and you all don't need me to spell out that whole process, although suffice it to say, that I've been doing my own shopping since I got tic tacs for my birthday. I also bought a kick-ass pair of sandals but I can't manage to make that one relate. I'm losing my touch.
3) In my defense, I'm not very observant.
4) Originally I wrote "I dunno, you be the judge." but you people are unpredictable lately, and I can't have you all taking his side.

Le Dog

I feel like I haven't been entirely honest with you.

Probably because I haven't.

You know my dog, Dobie? The big ferocious one? And his equally menacing dog sitter, Al? (1) All made up. The Shallow home was, until yesterday, blissfully canine-free.

But you can't be too mad because Karma has bit me in the ass with a petulant, cranky, dog.

Huge scary picture courtesy of the
West Sacramento Photo of the Day blog.
only this dog is better cause he brought tequila.

His name is Joe. Joe, as in Joe Giradi, manager of the New York Yankees, not Joe, like Joe the Plumber. Jake was opposed to the name Joe because he thought it made him sound average. This dog aspires to be average. His full legal name is Josephat Macaroni-Head, so that's what I'll call him when he's in trouble. Which is apparently going to be all the fucking time.

He's a rescue dog, and I'll admit that Eli wasn't the only one disappointed when he wasn't dropped off by a hunky firefighter. He's a grade A mutt; best guess is part lab, part water dog, part Satan hound.

Yes, Satan Hound. Example: when we pet sat for friends, we would leave their dogs in the upstairs hallway with all the doors and the baby gate closed when we went out. It gives them more room than a crate plus a view. We've never had any complaints. Until today.

In the 20 minutes it took me to drop Eli off at school, Joe managed to chew thru the baby gate, thru his leash in 72 different places and then destroy Jake's brand new size 7 1/2 (men's) Keens. (2) Twenty minutes. I can't empty the dishwasher that fast. Look like we'll be adding a crate to our already super cluttered 1372 square feet home.(3,4)

On the bright side, I finally have fodder for my book, which I think I'll title Joe and Me, Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog. Jennifer Aniston can play me in the movie adaptation. I'm also going to start a website called Shit my Dog Destroyed, which is going to be an overnight sensation.

Stupid Karma.


1) Although I don't really know what's menacing about downloading porn.
2) Details added in case any of my readers are actually Keen representatives.
3) 4 bedrooms, 3 baths in a good school district in case any of my readers are actually benevolent real estate moguls.
4) So cluttered and too small to have anything good to steal. Oh wait, I really do have a dog now, stalkers! Named Joe, short for Cujo.

How to prepare for a terrorist attack and/or natural disaster: ShallowGal style

I feel like I should start with a disclaimer: I'm not a disaster expert. Pretty much everything I know on the topic comes from watching movies like 2012 and Volcano and Gigli. So if you've reached this page because you have 15 minutes to evacuate your home and you've already wasted the first 2 minutes of that googling "What should I take when I evacuate because of a natural disaster and/or terrorist attack?" please go find some official disaster site. Actually get off the damn computer, grab your kids and your keys and get the hell out of dodge. I'm sure you'll pass a 7-11.

But hopefully you're reading this preemptively. First you need one of those big rubbermaid bins with a matching latching lid. You might want to pick a color that matches your living room decor, that way you can use it as a coffee table. (1) I taped a supply list to the front for ease of identification.

Which is more disturbing, that half the list is missing or
that not a single item is checked off? (2)

You need to put a great deal of thought into packing these disaster kits. They need to provide everything a family of 5 needs to survive for three days. Every inch of the bin should be carefully allocated to the bare necessities. (3)

As in "Congratulations, you have survived the Apocalypse."

Let's keep looking. Next up, three platters, my favorite of which has broken. (4)

My thinking was probably that the banner
will have drawn all the other survivors
and they'll be expecting nibbles.

But before we can throw this big shindig to celebrate our survival, we actually need to do some surviving. C'mon, Amy. Check the damn half-list.

Would you be surprised to learn that neither flashlight has batteries?

Next up, a large purple beach bag stuffed with essentials. Maybe not stuffed, but definitely essential.

Essential if I need proof that I've been to Ocean City
or I need to build a quick IKEA bookcase
or measure Jake for a skating dress.

After 9/11, when I extensively researched evacuation kits, there was a lot of discussion about grapefruit seed extract and oil of oregano as all-purpose magic must haves.

Although it really only had the effect of making the box smell
like an Italian restaurant.

All joking aside, a first aid kit is a necessity.

I'm prepared for basically any injury sustained during the apocalypse
as long as it's a headache or a skinned knee.

Maps! This makes sense because there's a good chance that the satellite that controls the combined 4 GPS's (5) in our cars have been affected.

This way I can get from ground zero to ground zero. Or Delaware.

Under the maps, a great surprise! I have been looking for this vacuum attachment for, I kid you not, 4 years. I've been vacuuming my house with the little round attachment that you use for dusting.

Life as you you know it is over, but cheer up, I found the vacuum attachment!

Score! Duplicate maps!

We're reaching the bottom. The things that were so important that I must have packed them first. A dinosaur puppet. A sixth map.(6) A can opener and a novelty bottle opener. A blush applicator and a bow.

Actually the bow may come in handy for the house warming present

for the lucky Delaware resident I drop in on.

1) The whole point here is that you want to grab your emergency kit and run, gaining you valuable time ahead of the competition your neighbors.
2) Answer: Neither. Just you wait.
3) ♫ The simple bare necessities! ♫
4) Meaning the volcanoes have already won.
5) GPS' ? GPSes'? GPS's's? GPSi ?
6) Of Delaware, natch.