The Passive Aggressive Lying Bitch Mom

At the start of the school year I got together with one of Little Man's friend's mom and we decided to have playdates at each other's homes every week.  One, it would help give us a day with some extra time to get errands done without having to worry about picking up our kids by the designated time.  Two, it was nice for the boys to have more time to socialize and develop.  Plus it was just nice to have a friend for both of us.  Anyway, our little group of two soon became a group of three.  The third mom and her child were more than welcome to our group.  The boys all played well together and the moms all got along well.  It was a happy little play group.  Until I made the mistake of inviting The Bitch.

The Bitch, she has no name since all I can think of when I see her is Bitch, is a single mom.  She and her husband had divorced, and supposedly it was a quick divorce with a long drawn out custody battle.  They were originally from CA and moved to NY.  Than, supposedly, he cheated on her so she took their son and fled back to CA without telling him.  Umm, that's kidnapping.  But that's just my opinion.  She is somewhat fucked up since she than flew back to NY and tried to reconcile with him.  But when she found out he had gotten his girlfriend pregnant, she flew back to CA and her family.  It's a whole big drama, which I've heard her side.  But after my interactions with her, I'm starting to doubt her side of the story.  I'm sure she wasn't as innocent as she makes herself out to be.  And I'll tell you why.

During the first two or three months of school, her son would follow Little Man and his friends all around the playground.  Let's call this boy Eugene for simplicity.  Anyway, no one wanted to play with Eugene.  He was at least a year younger than the playgroup boys and he was a little immature.  So I felt bad one day and invited The Bitch and Eugene over for the playdate I was hosting.  They both came over and The Bitch basically told me her sob story.  How she's an attorney who works from her, but she was living with her parents about 30 minutes outside of Satellite Village and it was so hard having to drive back and forth especially when she had meetings in downtown LA.  So I volunteered to take him if she had meetings, so she didn't have to worry about him.  So she jumped on the offer and I felt good about myself.  Plus she was bemoaning the fact that all the moms here were standoffish and it was so hard to make friends.  Since she had lived in NY I felt a connection to her.  That was my first mistake, because living in NY for 6 years does not make you a true NYer, or even an honorary one.  She was just a poser, and I learned soon enough.

Anyway, I agreed to take him the following week.  So that week came and I picked up all the boys, four in total, and watched them until 4 pm which was the designated pick up time.  Anyway, when The Bitch showed up, I asked her how her day was.  I thought she had a meeting in downtown LA.  Instead she tells me she had a productive day.  She went to the gym and Costco.  Umm, I thought you needed help on the days you had work meetings.  Not shopping and gym days.  But soon after she somehow inserted herself into our playgroup.  One mom had Mondays, I had Tuesdays, another a Wednesdays, but The Bitch couldn't host because she lived so far away.  So for about two months she was getting 12 days of day care without putting anything into our group.  Finally she moved into her own place.  Well, it was her parent's rental investment property and she said she would start hosting playdates.  Well, it turns out only one Thursday a month, because Eugene has to go to San Francisco to see his father three weekends out of the month.  But she still was sending him to all our houses for playdates.  I think that's a pretty sweet deal for her, 12 days of day care for one day.  And it turned out Little Man couldn't go on Thursdays because he started baseball, and practices were Thursday afternoons.

Meanwhile, another kid and his mom tried to muscle in, and I had the unfortunate pleasure of hosting 5 boys at my house one day.  It also happened to be the day we were getting new windows installed throughout the entire house.  I thought I was going to lose it, and decided I couldn't take so many boys anymore.  So I spoke to the original play group mom and we decided to take a break and ask all the moms who would take which day and how many days they would send their boys out to other homes for playdates.  The Bitch came out and said she could only host one day a month, and that Eugene can go to every one's homes.  No shame!  You still want all this free daycare and you can only contribute ONE DAY A MONTH?!?!?  Hello???  Are you that greedy?  So I said I can only have three boys, and since Little Man can't go on Thursdays, that I wouldn't take Eugene since that seemed fair.

Well, after that incident (which was around February), The Bitch has stopped talking to me or acknowledging me.  Which is fine with me, because now I know what kind of user she is.  And I felt like the biggest sucker believing her tale of woe and loneliness, of difficulty meeting mom friends, or setting up playdates.  Because you don't make an effort, you just insinuate yourself into a group and than take advantage of all the other moms.  No one wants to be mean and call you out for being a user, so they just suck it up and take Eugene every week.  Than one day, after I pick up Little Man from a playdate, he asks me why I don't like Eugene.  That's a strange question, so I ask him why he's asking me that.  Turns out Eugene told Little Man that the reason why Eugene can't come to Little Man's house to play anymore is because I don't like him.  Not because there were too many kids.  Not because it doesn't make sense to host someone when Little Man can't be part of the exchange.  And to top it off, The Bitch told Eugene I didn't like him.  What kind of mother tells her child that someone doesn't like them?  To purposefully crush their self esteem.  To make them feel bad about themselves?  Well, The Bitch does.  She obviously doesn't think very much of Eugene if she purposefully lies to him about the situation and says something to hurt his feelings.  Thinking that it will explain why he doesn't go to Little Man's house anymore.  She just didn't own up to the fact that she was taking advantage of all of us.

So I had to sit down and explain to Little Man that I never said I didn't like Eugene.  That obviously The Bitch (I don't call her that to Little Man, I'm not that snarky) has a problem with me and it was very unfair of her to bring Eugene and Little Man into her issues.  That she lied about me and that was a very nasty thing to say, especially to her own child.  That Eugene couldn't come to out house because there were too many kids.  Abut after hearing about what The Bitch said, Eugene will never come to our house again because I refuse to have anything to do with a mom who lies about me and says nasty things like that.

So the next day at school, this I heard from the snarkiest friend I have in Satellite Village, that Little Man and Eugene were walking together.  Little Man turns to Eugene and says, "You can never come over to my house because your mom says nasty things about my mom".  The Bitch was there and immediately pulled Eugene away from Little Man.  I felt glad, because now she knows that I know she lied about me and talks trash about me to her son.  That in and of itself is just ridiculous.  Who talks trash about another mom to a 4 year old?  Yes, Eugene is still 4.  And she going to send him to kindergarten with the rest of the boys.  This kid still pees all over the toilet seat and the floor.  He doesn't wash his hands after he pees. He walks in the middle of the street.  He yells and hits The Bitch.  He doesn't understand the concept of personal space.  He likes to yell and push.  And he's basically like a mini rabid dog.  But The Bitch doesn't discipline him at all.  There are a bunch of us who talk about his horrible behavior, and are amazed that she doesn't do anything at all.  But that's really not my concern.  As long as Little Man doesn't pick up him bad behavior, I could care less if Eugene kicks and hits The Bitch.  She obviously deserves it for being a mean and callous mother.

Which brings me back to me idea that maybe she isn't as innocent as she painted herself to be with her divorce and custody battle.  If she obviously had no qualms lying to her child, who knows what she did to her husband.  Maybe she drove him to cheat.  Maybe she cheated and he retaliated.  Maybe she's just cold and crazy at home so he was forced to seek someone else.  All I know is she is fucking crazy and I just hope and pray Little Man isn't in the same class as Eugene next year.  I also don't know why she has to send Eugene to our school district if she still lives 20 minutes away.  At least move into the district, or go to your own.  And Eugene isn't a remotely sharp knife in the kitchen drawer, so I don't know why he is going to kindergarten.  She should really send him to remedial or another year of preschool.  But I just hope I don't have to deal with these users anymore.

5 Year Olds Going on 20

Do you remember what it was like growing up in the 70s/80s?  Let's just say I'm pushing middle age and so that was around the time I was growing up and being a kid.  I remember playing outside, making mud pies, taking skating lessons, running around like a terror in the backyard.  I don't remember a fascination with clothing, or television, or anything outside of my immediate little world.  Maybe a lot of us were like that, we didn't have the distractions of television and social media bombarding us all the time.  Commercials telling us what to wear, what to play with, what to eat, and how to dress.  Reality television wasn't showing us the cruelty that exists in human nature, the deceit and duplicity that people will unapologetically display in order to get ahead in a situation.  Though the older generation will state that the 50s were a great time to grow up, I think the 70s/80s were just as wholesome and innocent.  Maybe I'm biased, but I think a lot of the people I know who grew up in that era are pretty well adjusted and grounded.  Of course your environment will affect you as an adult, which we all know is a big factor out here in Satellite Village.  But that's a whole other psychological study I have yet to undertake.

Anyway, Little Man is finishing preschool this year, and next year he will start kindergarten.  He is extremely excited to start a new school (though it's on the same campus) and I'm excited to meet some new moms.  Hopefully out of the potential 60 out there a few will be "normal".  But what I'm more worried about are the girls.  I'm not talking about the teacher aides, or the teachers, or even the young girls in the elementary school.  I'm talking about Little Man's classmates.  Well, two girls I know of in particular.  For the past year, these two girls have been boy crazy.  I don't mean they just like boys, but they will literally chase the boys every day at school to kiss them and try to get them to be their "boyfriend".  And they go through "boyfriends" like a sick person goes through Kleenex.  I remember last year, one girl's mom told me that this particular little girl would try to have sex if she knew how, that's how "sexual" she was when she would have playdates at her boyfriend's house.  Um, that's just disturbing when the parent is telling you her then 4 year old is sex crazed.  Plus, these little girls like to wear fishnets and goth style clothing to school.  Hello...you're five and why are your parents letting you dress up like mini sluts for preschool?  The other little girl, her mom isn't a mom at all.  She acts more like a friend or buddy to her child.  Meaning there is no discipline or boundaries in place.  This little girl has spit and kicked the teachers in the past, and has an attitude when you talk to her.  But that Mom will just laugh and sigh, as if it's all very cute and adorable.  Meanwhile I just want to slap her for spitting or kicking and telling her to mind her manners.  But I just bottle it all in and remind myself to stay clear of this woman and her child.  The last thing I want is Little Man picking up these bad examples.  So when you put these two Wonder Twins together, you definitely get the feeling that you know who the fast and loose girls in high school will be.

I'm not saying that all the girls are like this, only these two.  Meanwhile, the other 10+ girls in the class are the typical "normal" girls you would remember as a child.  Playing with play dough or dolls.  Riding tricycles or swinging on the swings on the playground.  Looking for roly poly bugs, making sand castles or trying to hula hoop.  These are the sweet little girls I remember from my youth, who I would want Little Man to play with, and Little Miss to be when she turns five.  Not the two boy crazed disrespectful creatures who troll the playground for boys and kisses.  I understand that the current generation grows up a lot faster due to media and all the highly sexualized content they are constantly bombarded with on a daily basis.  But there is something to be said of a nice respectful and modest girl.  Who may have an interest in boys, but won't let that become her overwhelming distraction in life.

I actually sat Little Man down and told him that there are two paths he can take in life.  One is to study hard, make/have friends that are his equal, and be respectful and conscientious.  Or he can take the path that includes kissing at the age of 5, not studying and basically becoming a high school drop out with no job prospects and a dead end life.  Of course he decided to chose the path of success and hard work, and that means (as I told him) avoiding the kissing girls when they come around to bother the boys.  Sure, you can play with them if it entails swings or the sand box or tricycles.  But when they start trying to kiss you, you walk away and tell your teacher that you don't like that.  I feel that this type of behavior has to be nipped at the bud now, and obviously the parents don't since they aren't very effective as told models/disciplinarians.  So maybe the teachers can try to exact some control over the playground.  If not, at least I'm telling Little Man to be aware and to refrain from that behavior.  I just hope The Wonder Twins aren't in his kindergarten class.  The last thing I need is having to deal with these moms for another year, and trying to refrain from slapping the sluttiness from their girls.

Common Sense is Lacking Here

When I have to drop off Little Man at preschool, I have to park the car and walk him into the classroom every morning.  Which means the car is parked either on the street, or in a parking lot across from the street.  The parking lot is tucked away behind a wall of trees, so it's secluded and quiet.  Though it takes me between 5-10 minutes to drop off Little Man at school, I always take my purse with me when I park the car.  I think that's just common sense, why leave valuables in the car even for a short period of time?  It's like you are tempting fate, looking for trouble, eager for a throw down with a potential smash and grab robber.  Yet at least 3-4 times during the school year I'll get an email from that Passive Aggressive Director about another mom's car being broken into and her purse stolen.

Seriously women, why would you leave your purse in the car?  Are you so deluded that you think you live in a bubble and no crime will happen here in Satellite Village?  Let alone crime will touch your gilded lifestyle?  And what gets me is that after the initial email, usually in September of the school year, these women STILL leave their purses in their cars while they walk their kids to school.  Come on, we all know which mom got robbed, we see the police cruiser/motorcycle on the side of the street with the officer taking down their information.  Yet some brilliant woman decides to still leave her purse in the car to tempt fate.  Do you think you're immune?  That bad things will never happen to you in the same location and time as the previous incident?  And you leave your purse in the front passenger seat, not even trying to hide it under the seat of in the trunk of the car.  What is with these women?  How many times do you have to get an email saying another car was smashed and a purse stolen?  You think the robber doesn't know that a lot of stupid ass moms leave their cars full of possessions in order to drop off their kids at school?  Having the common sense to take your purse with you is a good thing.  Having the development of common sense after getting emails about robberies is also a good thing.  But ignoring them all and continuing to leave your purse in a car is just plain stupid and maddening for me.

So when another smash and grab is reported and the upteenth email is sent warning us about leaving purses in cars, I'm just exasperated by the total stupidity and ignorance of these women.  And to tell you the truth, I have no sympathy for you and your stolen purse.  I think, good riddance.  Maybe this will knock some sense into that bleached head of yours, past the silicon bobbing along in your bloodstream, and make your realize that you're no better than anyone else.  That taking your purse with you, even for 5 minutes, is worth the trouble.  And maybe you'll be an example for your children, teaching them to be safe when in public, and to not tempt potential criminals with laziness and small mindedness.  Until that time, I'm betting that I'll get another email soon, before the school year is up, about another smash and grab.  Seriously, if I was a criminal I'd be all over this area with the easy pickings.  People just don't seem to learn from other's mistakes, or they are just too idiotic to care.

Okay, I did get another email from the Passive Aggressive stating another four cars had been broken into. At this point I'm almost wishing for more break-ins because people don't seem to understand the concept taking valuables with you instead of leaving them on the seat of the car!!!  Stupid...just stupid.

DIY Means I Have Too Much Time on My Hands

I like to be busy, not frenetic busy and stressed, but I like to have something to show for at the end of the day.  Maybe it's just a product of working for all those years, but I like to be productive.  For a while, after we moved here, I felt adrift and lost.  I didn't know what to do with my time.  There weren't any museums or parks to explore with the kids.  And the shopping was definitely depressing, plus how many times can you go to the local mall a week?  So after we purchased the house, I started working on the house.

First I painted the interiors.  I did all but two rooms and the baths.  I would drive to Lowe's or Home Depot at least twice a week with Little Miss.  I'd buy all sorts of paint and drop cloths and brushes.  I also changed the locks in the house.  I switched out electrical switches and outlets and some plumbing fixtures.  I did landscaping and mulching.  I did all I could with a baby at home, which basically meant no real demolition or serious home improvement.  Maybe when she starts school I'll have the opportunity to switch out sinks and vanities in the bathrooms.  So I did all I could do on the house with my limited time and with Little Miss.

Next I decided to take on some cooking.  I started out making things I missed from NY.  I made rainbow cookies and black and whites.  I made my own bagels (which I discovered I need a more powerful Kitchenaid since the dough is too stiff for my Kitchenaid) and pretzels.  Than I started tackling macarons and cream puffs and gougeres.  I made spicy bacon caramel corn (yum, who doesn't like bacon?) and NY Style Crumb Cake.  I made chocolate soufflés and florentine lace cookies.  Than I started getting fat and decided I need to take a break from all the sweets.

So now I'm in the beginning of my latest obsessions - skin care.  For a while I wanted to see a dermatologist, but it seemed that a lot of the ones I checked out on the internet were big proponents of botox and fillers.  I don't need to see a derm for him to make me feel worse about my skin and push products on me that I don't even want to consider.  So I really resisted my need to see a derm.  For a while in the past I was an avid user of Tazarac cream which I loved, and I'm seriously considering getting back on for what little vanity I have left.  So I thought I should first explore vitamin C serums, and happened across a website called skincaretalk.com.  Holy crap, talk about hardcore women who concoct all sorts of potions and creams for their faces.  All based on organic and holistic ingredients.  I'm no hippie but I try to buy organic and recycle when I can.  But I'm not hardcore.  So when I saw a DIY recipe for vitamin c serum, I knew I had to try it.  I also saw a DIY recipe for Rodin's Olio Lusso.  Now I was also contemplating Darphin's 8 Flower Nectar Oil, since my skin is so dry out here I need more moisture, and Olio Lusso seemed relatively similar in composition.  So I decided to try to make some of that as well.

I spent about two weeks researching oils and websites, trying to figure out what I wanted and where to buy them.  So between three different websites, I purchased about $350 worth of oils (essential and carrier) and bottles to start mixing up my new fangled potions.  I started out with a simple vitamin c serum, which is nothing more than lactic acid, glycerin, distilled rose water and a few drops of jojoba and vitamin e.  It's a bit thin, but I can feel the tingle and who knows if it's really working or not.  But in order to make it more of a "serum", I bought some ferulic acid, sclerotium gum, and phenoxyethanol.  As for my DIY oil, it actually seems pretty good.  I realized I don't need to wear my old standby La Mer anymore since the oil is moisturizing enough at night.  Maybe I'm mixing too many essential oils in, I got a couple more that I'm going to toss in.  So far my little foray into DIY skin care seems to be working.  It was a pretty big initial investment, but with all the oils I purchased I can make enough to last me for a couple of years.  Plus I'm going to make some for when my friend comes to visit me in May.  She'll get to experience my DIY skills.  Hopefully she won't break out as a result.

Anyway, I guess the point is I'm constantly looking for ways to occupy my time during the day.  I hate feeling like I wasted a day, and when Little Man has play dates and Little Miss is napping, and I like to be productive.  I started looking into DIY shampoos, but that seems a little too hardcore for me now.  I'll just stick with my serum and oils and see what I look like 2 months from now.  Maybe some of those "freckles", aka age spots, will fade away.  Than I'll move on to something else to DIY.

Preschool Semantics for Adults

For me and the Big Man, our children are important and their schooling is the one thing we constantly thought about in our search for a house.  One of the paramount reasons why we settled in Satellite Village was because of the "Blue Ribbon" schools here.  First of all, every school we've driven by touts itself as a Blue Ribbon school, so I don't know how prestigious this moniker is.  But supposedly our Unified School District ("USD") is in some top percentage in the state, not sure what but all the realtors would spout off some figure which I can't seem to substantiate.  Maybe the USD is just average and I got duped.  Coming from NY and believing up until a couple of years ago that I would be spending the next 20 years applying to private schools and filling out multiple applications for preschool/kindergarten/elementary/middle/high school, I was somewhat relieved about a good reputable public school.  After all, I was a product of the public school system and I think for the most part I turned out okay.

Satellite Village's USD seemed relatively benign.  Nothing to really complain about, yet nothing to really extoll to my friend's back home in NY who had kids.  For what it's worth, it's probably a good USD considering the parental brain power here to start.  So the first September we were here I enrolled Little Man in the local preschool, which is located on the grounds of our designated elementary school.  Maybe I was being naive, or just lazy because this was public school.  I admit I didn't do my due diligence about the preschool, but it seemed like a relatively nice school.  Granted, it's no Kidville (where Little Man took early childhood classes while in NY) or the Ethical Culture School (where I was going to apply for Little Man if we stayed in NY), but it seemed adequate.

The preschool, like I stated earlier, is located on the same grounds as the elementary school.  It touts itself as a touchy feely school where they allow kids to develop at their own pace in a "nurturing" environment, similar to a Montessori but not quite.  Art plays a big part in the curriculum, which is somewhat useless for my Little Man since he's not an artsy fartsy type of child.  But he enjoys a random project every once in a while.  So to make up for the lack of academic rigor I had enrolled Little Man in Kumon classes when he was three and a half.  He was reading and doing math before he was four.  Though we stopped Kumon after a year (Big Man thought it would burn the Little Man out before he went to kindergarten), I continued to give him homework at home so he would be challenged and ahead of the state's minimum academic requirements.  Like I stated earlier, I have big plans for my Little Man.  And those plans don't include some UC Blah Blah Blah I've never heard of, or any state school.  God forbid he goes to a junior/community/vocational school.  He's smart enough to get into a private 4 year institution in the New England area.

Back to the preschool.  The teachers in his classroom are wonderful.  I will have to admit that they are kind well meaning women who really care about the kids.  And I like them as people, they are just nice women.  But the Director of the school...ugh...talk about a bad copy of a Passive Aggressive Stereotype.  First of all, this woman comes across as a fake person.  She always has a plastic smile slapped on her face and she never comes out and just says something to you.  It's always in a form of a question.  How are you today?  Did you remember to bring snack today?  Is Little Man signed up for Early Care?  Did you park in the fire zone?  All these questions when she's either watching me carry snack into the class, policing the Early Care room, or standing by the fire zone watching us all park to drop our kids off.  If you know the answers, than just come out and tell me not to park there.  I'm a big girl, I can take a directive.  What I don't appreciate is this passive aggressive nonsense you like to spout off.  I don't know how long she's been here as a Director of the preschool, but some other people have told me that she used to be really fat and lost a lot a weight.  Ummm, what do I care?  And what difference does that make?  Bully for her, but that doesn't mean she's a better person.  Oh, and that she goes to some local church every week.  Yeah, well there are a lot of evil people who believe in God and go to Church.  Being a practicing Christian doesn't automatically make you a better person.  Seriously, are people here so small minded that going to church and getting gastric bypass is a free pass for bad behavior?  Anyway, she's just a bad pill for me to swallow twice a day when I pick and drop off Little Man at school.

Because I wanted continuity for Little Man, I had to suck it up and deal with this farce of a human being for two years.  Otherwise I would have just switched preschools to another place that treated me as an adult instead of a mentally challenged two year old that needs constant nagging for the simplest of tasks.  I swear, this woman makes me rue each check I have to write out every month for preschool.  That I'm supporting her and paying for the food that goes into her already distended belly just makes me resentful for all the nasty comments to me and the mis-identification I had to deal with for the first six months.  Oh, I forgot to mention that she didn't know who I was for the first six months we attended this preschool.  She kept thinking I was another mom, and would approach me and talk to me for a few minutes before I noticed her glazed expression showed confusion over my face.  And she would also tell other moms I was someone else.  They would correct her, and she would question them over the veracity of my identity.  Basically, she is clueless and could do no right in my mind.

Every day at school I have to navigate fake pleasantries with her, when all I want to do is her to bug off and leave me alone so I can have a somewhat pleasant day without her mug in my face.  It's bad enough I'm cutting you a check for several hundred a month, at least give me the courtesy of leaving me alone.  I don't need to feel pandered to by you giving me a fake greeting every morning.  Ugh, it's all I can do to just be civil to her.  If there is one thing I can't stand is being fake.  I won't be fake to you, either I like you or I don't like you (or I'm indifferent, which just means I'll ignore you since I have no feeling toward you at all).  All I know is that when Little Miss starts preschool we will be going to another school.  Though I love the teachers, I can't stand having to deal with this passive aggressive director twice a day.  So I'd much rather find another school (preferably a Montessori) and send her there.  I'll be sad to say goodbye to the teachers here, but I can't wait to never see this hag of a director again.  I just hope I don't run into her anywhere in Satellite Village.  I'm also counting down to June when Little Man is done with this place too.  Than I'll never have to deal with this idiot again.

My Daily Morning Surprise - Dog Poop in a Bag

I have a neighbor who I HATE.  Granted, I only know two of my many neighbors (who both just happen to be on either side of our house), and only one I have actually spoken to.  It's the one I have never spoken to that I hate.  First of all, I know hate is a strong word.  And in the beginning I was a little miffed at this family.  First of all, they only talk to and acknowledge Big Man.  But whenever they see me they will literally look right through me and ignore me.  Just the other day they had a bunch of gardeners out redoing their front lawn and the gardeners smiled and said hello to me, which I happily reciprocated.  At the time of this happy greeting/exchange, the Fat Ass Matron Neighbor was standing literally 5 feet from me and pretended I wasn't even there.  Your freaking gardener was saying hello to me and yet I'm not even worth acknowledging.  But that same evening as Big Man came home from work, she had a whole conversation with him about her gardening plans and blah blah blah.  She's a bitch, plain and simple.  Plus she had the nerve to tell our gardener not to park in front of her house.  He has been working at our house for the past 16+ years and had always parked there since it was easier for him to roll out the equipment.  But as soon as she moved her Fat Ass in some pseudo faded mom jeans next door, suddenly the street in front of her house is private property.  She even had the nerve to tell our Pool Guy to park somewhere else.  Thanks a lot bitch, yet you have your loser friends park in front of our house 4 days out of the week.  Sometimes I'm tempted to spray those cars with shaving cream, but I don't because Big Man would have a conniption if I ever did do anything like that.

She's like George Jefferson in that she used to live in a crappier house and they moved into this house last year, so suddenly she's moving on up to a deluxe house in Satellite Village.  I did my reconnaissance on her, and they literally lived a couple of miles away and decided to upgrade their dwelling last year.  My Columbia MBA isn't going to waste here, I'll use whatever I have to find information on my enemies and entertain me at the same time.  So these people have a grandiose idea that they are just better than everyone else.  So good in fact, they don't even have to carry their own dog poop.

So for a few mornings when I went out to drive Little Man to school, I noticed these little black bags of dog poop on our front lawn.  It bothered me since I suspected it was Fat Ass, but I didn't have any proof.  Than one morning as I was getting Little Miss out of bed and opening her shades, I see Fat Ass and her dog walking in front of our house.  First of all, is there a leash law in CA?  Because her dumass dog was without a leash.  And he was running all over our lawn and our other neighbor's lawn.  Than he decided to squat down and take a shit.  This is the same lawn that Little Man and his friends would roll down for kicks.  That just grossed me out and you can bet I put a stop to rolling of any kind on the front lawn.  So Fat Ass's dog takes a shit, she bags it and than TOSSES it back on the lawn.  She did this again when the dog took another shit at the next house down.  I'm standing there flabbergasted and totally disgusted.  You're too good to carry your dog's shit?  So you just leave it there?  Is there a law against that?  What about some HOA rule?  I don't care if you come back after your walk (which isn't working since that ass is as fat as it was a year ago) and pick it up.  That is just disgusting and oh so lazy!!  Seriously, you can't even carry it with you?  You just leave bags of dog shit on everyone's front lawn like a trail of breadcrumbs?  Are you so stupid you don't know how to find your way home?  I swear, this just made me HATE her.  I'm debating if I should take some pictures or video and submit them to the HOA.  But I would have to take them from another angle, otherwise Fat Ass would know it was our house.  But I'll bide my time.  If anything, my time here makes me think of ways to exact revenge and my pound of flesh.

The Lazy Lazy Chef

In NY eating out, or at home, was a virtual smorgasbord of ethnicities and cuisines.  If you went out to eat, you can have anything you desired.  From super dirt cheap Chinese, Michelin star restaurants serving the gamut from exotic meats to foie gras to super stinky cheese (yum), to real farm/rooftop to table establishments.  I remember organizing a dinner in business school at an Ethiopian restaurant, an ETHIOPIAN restaurant, simply because it was close and I was craving lentils and injera.  Turns out the place closed because of some money laundering issues, but that's besides the point.  The point is the variety of food was tremendous and gut busting.  Plus, when compared to the cost of buying and preparing your own meal, eating out was sometimes cheaper for a couple.  So for most of my life in NY, prior to having kids, we were a restaurant or delivery type of couple.  Sure, every once in a while I'll break out the Mauviel and cook a meal.  But it was usually cheaper and quicker to order in.  I even had a binder filled with a pretty large variety of restaurants who would deliver to our building.  It was broken out by cuisine and in alphabetical order (OCD thank you very much).  That binder was our Holy Grail at 6 pm - and we would agonize over cuisine and restaurant whenever we wanted to order in.  Than I had Little Man and started becoming a weekly (sometimes twice weekly!) Fresh Direct customer.  You could order anything in NY.  Groceries - check!  McDonald's - check!  Diapers - check!  Prescriptions - check!  Everyone offered delivery, and if they didn't, messengers were still around to pick up and deliver for a heftier fee.  I basically never left the apartment for real household errands.  I left for museums, for Kidville classes, lunch with my old co-workers downtown on Water Street or Union Square (depending on the time of the month - the end of the month was always busier since deals were closing), or shopping.  Oh how I miss shopping, the sample sales and the beautiful windows at Bergdorf.  But that's a whole other story.

So when we moved out to Satellite Village and I realized my dining options were chain restaurants or fast food joints, I realized something had to change.  That something was me.  Delivery is a joke here.  The only thing you can get is pizza, pizza, or pizza.  I think there are a couple of Chinese places that deliver but their food seems kind of sketchy.  I used to always get the fried chicken wings in NY, but they were no where to be found out here.  And what is this Egg Foo Young?  I thought that was an urban legend, I've never seen that on a menu before.  But it's here and there are about 6-10 different varieties of it.  As a result I've had to start cooking.  And with kids I can't really cook what I like and miss.  So I went out and bought a crock pot.  

To tell you the truth, I have never touched one before.  Growing up my mom never wanted to get one since she was convinced it would burn the house down since you were leaving an electrical appliance on ALL DAY LONG cooking food.  But I decided to get one and try it out.  Can I just tell you that I LOVE this thing.  You can pick one up super cheap and it is a dream!  I just plop in whatever I can think of, turn it on and walk away.  Granted certain things take a lot longer to cook, but it's easy and it's only one pot to clean up in the end!  Oh Crock Pot, where have you been my entire life?  Why have I fought you for so long, when you are nothing but a godsend to me!  Can you ever forgive me for doubting your prowess?  Than I discovered that there are blogs about crock pot cooking.  People even try to use it 365 days out of the year! How insane, yet totally ingenious is that?  So tomorrow night I'm going to try to crock pot some short ribs. There's some pseudo Korean recipe I found which I'm going to try.  I know it's pseudo since the sauce is made with onions and sugar and tamari.  But I'm going to try to authenticate it by adding garlic and chili flakes and scallions.  But regardless of the ingredients, I know it's going to be a lazy cooking day for me tomorrow.

The crock pot has made me a lazy chef, always searching for a recipe I could slap in the crock pot and walk away.  But the flip side is the extra time allows me to try to recreate the foods I miss most about NY.  Like the gougères from Churrascaria Plataforma, the rainbow cookies, black and whites and florentines from all those bakeries and delis dotting the city, macarons from Bouchon Bakery, bagels from H&H (so sad the one on the UWS closed) and anything else I can remember eating and missing.  I'm still hoping to find an Ethiopian restaurant out here but I am not holding my breath.  I don't know when I will ever get a chance to have injera again.  But maybe one day I'll try to recreate the lentil stew (Misr Wot) in my beloved crock pot. 

Yes, I Wash My Face with Oil

We are in an area known as the "Valley".  Okay, it's not The Valley (which I had to ask a local Mom what that really meant and she clarified for me that it meant the San Fernando Valley) but it's another Valley.  I swear, there are so many valleys here and none of them seem to be a true valley of below sea level.  But maybe I'm just missing something.  Anyway, Satellite Village is in a valley but also in a rocky and dry mountainous area (see - it's not a real valley!) where it's almost desert like in the heat and lack of moisture.  My first summer here I remember driving along the 101 Freeway and on my right was a raging wildfire.  I flipped out and had to call the Big Man at work to tell him about the fire that was literally 10 feet away from us zipping by at 65 mph.  Turned out I was lucky because 10-15 minutes later they shut down that stretch of the 101 to fight the blaze.  So in a nutshell it's dry here, mountainous, and the temperature can swing between 80 to 40 degrees in a 24 hour period.  Though we don't get snow or torrential downpours, I do miss the humidity that comes with those weather patterns.  As a result my skin has gotten extremely rough and dry and scaly and just plain nasty.  I don't know how the other women deal with the dryness, but I'm dying from the dearth of humidity.

I've tried all sorts of lotions and serums for my face.  Bliss socks and gloves for my hands and feet, which only work if you never have to take them off.  I tried non soap cleansers for my face, shea butter soaps, baby oils and creams, basically anything that will help alleviate the dryness.  I'm normally not a beauty junkie, but I did start to notice fine lines in my face where it's really dry.  And that scared the crap out of me.  I don't want to start getting brown and wrinkly and turn into a middle aged Magda.  So I resorted to the one product I tried a long time ago in NY and discovered was too rich for my skin, Shu Uemura Cleansing Oil.  I have to say that it's kind of expensive, but a little does go a long way.  I think this bottle will last me at least 6+ months.

Granted my face doesn't feel as dry and tight after using it, but at least when I slather some heavy duty cream on it won't dissipate in a few hours.  It's truly sad that my life has been reduced to searching for heavy oily facial products because of the weather and (gasp!) also because I'm old!  I have to actually do the math to figure out how old I am now.  I think after 30 it was all the same to me, middle aged.  

Anyway, this is basically my exciting news for the week.  I use oil to wash my face, and it works.  I still have to find something for my hands and feet, but at least the skin on my face won't crack when I smile now.

The Middle Aged Frenemy

I remember when the term "frenemy" first hit popular vernacular.  I thought it was such a clever word, "Ha ha, friend and enemy, how funny!".  It seemed to be a word reserved solely for the high schoolers and the young twenty somethings working in fashion, marketing or PR.  Environments where women (and it always seemed to be only women) were predominantly involved and competition for Queen Bee status seemed to be at stake.  In finance there was no such thing as frenemy because we all knew if you liked someone or not.  That's how we knew whether to look for another job or stay and collect that big ass bonus.  Trust me, if you didn't know where you stood at a firm, your bonus would give you a good idea and usually it was a hint to leave if it sucked compared to everyone else.  If you didn't leave, you just got shafted again and again.  Eventually they'll demote you and push you out.  So you learned pretty quick how to read your managers and decide who to align yourself with.

Anyway, frenemy to me was a funny term that didn't really factor into my life.  Until I came to Satellite Village.  Seriously, why is it that as soon as I move into this place all these weird things happen?  All these stereotypes you read about suddenly materialize?  The crazies you see on television sitcoms actually exist?  The freakin stupid trends you never saw anyone wear are suddenly all around you?  It's like some Bermuda Triangle of the Bizarre, the Black Hole of Misfits, the Wasteland for Humanity.  Where do these people come from and why are they all represented here in Satellite Village?

When Little Man first started preschool there was one boy he was friendly with from the start, let's call him Eugene.  So I made an effort to be friendly with Eugene's parents, who both work from home, and tried to set up play dates with Eugene at the park so Little Man could start to build some friendships.  Trust me, it's hard making friends when you're middle aged and set in your way.  Having to make small talk, feigning interest in their lives and jobs, asking about their other kid and trying to keep all the blah blah information straight.  Unless I really like you, I have selective Alzheimer's when it comes to personal information.  It's tough trying to build a friendship with the parents of your child's new friend.  Eugene's parents happened to be looking for a house just like us, so I thought we had some connection.  We ended up finding homes around the same time and as soon as we had the space I invited Eugene over.  Soon I realized I was the only one inviting anyone over for a play date.  Eugene's parents never invited Little Man over, and they would even ask me why I didn't take Eugene from school so it would save them a trip to our house to drop him off.  Um, how lazy are you?  We're literally three minutes from the school.  Soon they would just leave Eugene and come back in three hours.  I was a little uncomfortable since I thought 4 year olds needed parents around, and I didn't really feel comfortable or capable of controlling/disciplining their unruly 4 year old.  But I bit my tongue and sucked it up since it made Little Man so happy to have this kid over.

Soon my overtures for play dates were met with responses of "I'm really busy this week, let's talk next week" with no follow ups.  Than I started finding out that mutual friends were having Eugene over for play dates, and somehow the Frenemy Parents weren't too busy for those days.  So I got the unspoken message that this Frenemy Mom was just using me as day care when she needed to unpack her boxes or drive 2 hours away to unload a storage unit.  I was being used, and I don't appreciate being used.  Don't get me wrong, if I LIKE you, and that's the big important word here - LIKE.  If I like you I will do what I can to help you out.  If I feel some kind of reciprocal action, a real concern or affection for my child, I will LOVE you and you will have my undying fealty.  But I never got that from the Frenemy Parents.  In fact, I never got anything from them at all.  It was a kind of blah relationship for me.

Fast forward about 6 months and Little Man is on the same soccer team as Eugene.  Big Man would go and the Frenemy Parents were there and always chatted Big Man up.  "Oh, we should get together and blah blah blah some time".  Whatever, if you're looking for day care again go pay someone to watch your kid.  You're not getting anymore free day care from me.  "Oh, we just started taking Eugene to the driving range to play golf and since you play so frequently, you should join us at the driving range".  Duh, like I'm a rube that just fell off the turnip truck?  You told me in the past that you guys don't play golf and have no interest.  And I know you're both freakin cheap, hence trying to pass off play dates as free day care with me.  Do you really think I'm going to let Big Man teach your kid how to swing a golf club because you're inept and too cheap to hire someone?  At least buy Ben Hogan's book on the fundamentals - there's a lot of illustrations in it.  I'm sure you can follow pictures.  I actually ran into Frenemy Mom at a birthday party and I'm so disgusted by her that I can't even look at her or feign civility.  That's another thing with me, if I don't like you I don't care if you know or not.  I'm not going to waste my time trying to pretend we're friends and asking about your life.  I could really care less, and would appreciate it if you would just keep you're fake "Hey, how's it going?" quip to yourself.  Needless to say, I haven't seen these people since that party, and I hope I don't ever see them again.  I know Little Man won't be in any of the same classes since Eugene went to remedial kindergarten last year, so next year he should be in first grade.  Seriously, remedial kindergarten.  I've spent the past 3 years teaching Little Man to read and add and subtract and spell and he'll be starting multiplication in a few months.  And this kid went to remedial kindergarten.  I'm glad they won't be in the same class.  I don't need Little Man getting afflicted with Dumb by Osmosis.

I remember Frenemy Mom telling me that they didn't want to pay for another year of preschool and since remedial kindergarten was free, they would send Eugene there instead.  And save the money from preschool for a new car.  Come on, do you seriously think we can be friends after that remark?  I'm all about putting time and effort and money into my child's education and development.  And you want a new car instead of paying for another year of preschool?  Where do these people come from?  What rock are they crawling out from under?  And why are they all here?  The only upside is it makes for an amusing tale to tell.  Though I get all worked up when I think about their deceit.  But I'm patient...I'll get my chance for something.  And if you know me well enough, you know what that something is.

The Rainbow (Metaphorically Speaking) Coalition of Moms

In NY my friends were basically all in finance.  Maybe I had a couple in marketing or law, but the bulk were financial analysts.  Granted they ranged from mutual funds to investment banking to stocks to more esoteric products.  I think it was a product of the financial market being the main driving force behind the economy of Manhattan, but I think it's also a result of the particular industry I was in and the type of personalities we all had.  To some degree we were all somewhat OCD, very rigid in how we did things to how we dressed and socialized.  It was comforting knowing that a lot of your peers were in the same socio-economic niche.  We would tell defeasance jokes and all laugh, which I'm sure the people at the next table thought was total nonsense.  But it was a very comfortable yet intellectually stimulating niche.  We would discuss the markets and the products being securitized and how things were changing with new regulations and leadership.  I actually miss my little group of finance friends on many different levels.

Coming out to the Satellite Village I've tried to make friends.  It's hard starting from scratch making new friends without any real reason.  Especially coming out here where there are a lot of locals who grew up here and never left.  It's an insular and incestuous environment.  There are a couple of women I've met who are nice and receptive.  But I've discovered that the few I really click with are all from the NY area, which is not really surprising since we are all snarky and honest in our feelings.  There's a lot of sugar coating going on here, and not in a very good way.

But in our little bit of middle class America there is definitely a range of women/moms I've come across.  There are the Trophy Moms (who really don't look like your NY Trophy Wife - and I mean it's a real stretch comparing the two) who are all injected and lipo'ed and blonde.  Seriously, natural blondes supposedly make up less than 5% of the population, yet here they are about 50%.  And some are way too brassy and yellow to be termed blonde, it's obviously a very loose term out here.  They like to flash their Coach bags and (OMG!) Louis bags, wear Lululemon head to toe, or toss a scarf around their neck in 90 degree weather.  Daisy Dukes are worn with pride, along with spider veins and cowboy boots.  Oh, did I mention we aren't on a cattle ranch and all our roads are paved??  

Than there are the Average Moms (who could be from any town in the US, she's nothing really special).  She's seems normal, nothing really crazy about her.  No plastic body parts, no aspirations to be the reincarnation of Barbie, no crazy wardrobe getups.  There are, of course, the ones that are bizarre in their own special ways, like the affinity for wearing Ugg slippers as regular shoes.  One walks like a duck, one likes to wear matching shoes and bags (not color, but print which is just oh so unforgivable).  I'm not saying there aren't weirdos in this group, but they seem "normal" enough on the surface that you tend to focus more on the former group as well as the latter.

Finally there's the WTF Moms.  They are the ones who like to drive pick up trucks with personalized plates like "SASSY" or "PERKY".  Ummm, you're not sassy/perky with that fat ass and the too tight Juicy velour pants.  They like to sluttify adult Disney Princess Halloween costumes and wear them to the preschool Halloween parade.  Obviously she's so insecure she feels the need to upstage her own child at his school's parade.  On a side note, her child was dressed as a robot and was completely covered in cardboard.  It was a very interesting contrast to his Mom's choice of attire.  Anyway, these moms like to wear tight workout clothes, and that tight racerback athletic top needs to be hiked up and a knot tied to show even more flabby wrinkly belly skin.  I don't need to know that you have freckles/age spots all over your body.  That's just too much information/visual for me, and I'm sure everyone else around me.  But they all congregate together and talk about the other moms at the school.  I've heard them during pickup at the school, and honestly, women like that really shouldn't throw stones at the others.  It's kind of insulting and really hypocritical.  

The real kicker here is that after coming from NY where my circle of friends was like the famed Rainbow Coalition, everyone here is white.  Sure there are a couple of Asians, but no other minorities.  Everyone is white.  When we first moved out here and we went to the local mall, I felt perturbed and couldn't quite put my finger on what was bothering me.  Until I saw a black man walk by, than it hit me.  Everyone in the mall was white, there aren't any minorities here at all.  I miss having diversity in all aspects of my life.  Though my friends were all in finance, we were all different races and ethnicities.  But everyone is white out here, and it seems most of them are small town white.  When Chinese New Year rolled around the class moms decided to give each child a fortune cookie and a coupon for a free meal at Panda Express.  Umm, they has nothing to do with Chinese New Year.  A quick Google search brings up 15 days of festivities and all sorts of different foods for each day of celebration.  And I'm pretty sure fortune cookies are not a Chinese import.  

I guess the whole point of this is that my new version of the famed Rainbow Coalition is not on true diversity, but more on the degrees of class now.  Since everyone is white, the differences I see in my little slice of Satellite Village is the way these moms carry and conduct themselves.  How they dress/bare themselves on a daily basis, what they drive, how they talk, what they talk about, how they treat others and how they treat themselves.  Some of these woman have no qualms about interrupting someone else's conversation.  It's a very selfish personality to think that their lives are more important than anyone else's, and if they have a question they should just blurt it out instead of waiting for a break in the conversation or apologizing for the intrusion.  Some of them don't even have the courtesy to thank a 5 year old child for holding the door open for them.  Seriously woman, you can't thank a child for doing something nice for you?  What kind of bitchy witch are you?  Obviously your children must be learning some great manners from you, and you're showing them how to be a conscientious and well mannered person but sashaying your fat ass right by a 5 year old and not even acknowledging their unselfish behavior toward you.  I know even though you upset my child by not thanking him, I'm still going to raise him (and his sister) to be well mannered and courteous to all lowlifes out there whom they'll come across.  Because it will only make them a better person and a more successful person.  Because we all know, at least those of us who have held real jobs in the real world, that how you conduct yourself in a business environment makes an impression on your manager and your clients.  And I am going to make sure my kids will be successful and experience a true Rainbow Coalition of life, instead of this pseudo diversity we have in Satellite Village.

It seems like I bitch and moan all the time.  But next time I want to talk about the real and honest women I've met out here.  The few who have made my transition to Satellite Village more palatable.  I think there are two women (sad commentary on the cross section of women out here) who are truly normal, in my opinion.  Gee, that's really depressing.  

My Ass is Pink and Juicy

In the 1990s Juicy Couture was a big fad.  I'm remembering it as the 90s, but I could be wrong.  But since this is my recollection I'm going to leave it as the 90s.  Anyway, Juicy was huge in NY.  Women bought it up like crazy and wore it mainly to the gym or at home.  I know it was huge because some SAs would tell me how they couldn't keep it in stock.  Yet you never really saw anyone on the streets of NY wearing Juicy, unless she was under the age of 15 and was a total Bridge and Tunnel (B&T) girl.  I personally never bought into the whole Juicy craze.  Sure there were moments I was tempted to get a suit and luxuriate in it's velour splendor.  But I was too busy indulging in my shoe and handbag fetish.  I was like a 60 year old woman trapped in the body of a 20 year old.  I had so many bags and shoes, matching in colors and style to my work clothes, that at one point I think I had around 200 pairs of shoes.  The OCD in me made sure that all my shoes were in their original boxes with photos on each pair taped to the outside so I could easily identify which shoe was in which box.  Living in a 300 square foot studio was ridiculous when my entire little closet was packed with shoe boxes.  Sometimes I think I moved simply because the closets kept getting better and better.  Than I had kids and it all fell apart.  But I digress.

Juicy was huge and than it became a joke.  No one was buying it, at least no one I know.  Yet the Juicy Couture store on Fifth Avenue was doing stellar business with the tourists and the B&T crowd.  Meanwhile, Victoria's Secret had decided to jump on this bandwagon and started pumping out their own version under their Pink brand.  Soon there was a plethora teeny boppers wearing "Juicy" and "Pink" branded velour pants across Fifth Avenue and inside all the popular tourist areas.  Every once in a while you'd see some older woman, looking past her prime yet valiantly trying to hold on to her own relevance by dressing as a 15 year old, wearing some Juicy or Pink.  Usually she had makeup speckled to her face and lots of bling on.  It was a sad testament to growing old.

Anyway, when I left NY only the tourists were wearing these things.  I believe Bergdorf had stopped carrying Juicy (did they ever carry it?) and thankfully my friends and I were in an older demographic where our paths would never cross with Juicy or Pink again.  Than I moved to Satellite Village.

Old wrinkled weather beaten women had Juicy on their butt.  Trust me, that ass ain't "Juicy" anymore, it's flat and wide and really sad looking.  Drawing attention to it by slapping "Juicy" on it just makes it look ever so depressing.  Middle aged women had "Juicy" on their asses.  Half of them fell into the flat as a pancake crowd, while the other half definitely fell into the Brazilian silicone butt insert group.  Your butt isn't "Juicy" in as much as "bubble butt".  Lots of surgical enhancements here, I have seen enough breasts defying gravity that they could give Wicked's Elphaba pause.  Grandmas with tighter flatter stomachs than their daughters, and faces that can't move above the upper lip.  I know plenty of women were getting plastic surgery in NY, but it was more subtle.  Not trying to reverse 30 years of aging in one 3 hour procedure.  But that's another rant.

Moms at the preschool had "Juicy" and "Pink" on their asses.  In my opinion that's just inappropriate.  You're trying to raise your child to be respectful, cognizant and appreciative of all the different peoples and cultures in the world.  You want them to find beauty in all races, to refer natural beauty and the character in faces lined with years.  Sure, maybe a little tweak is fine to delay the aging process, but not a full on death grasp for the 1980s.  I think there's too much of an emphasis on youth and trying to look hip and cool here. You're a middle aged mom dropping your child off at preschool.  This isn't Spring Break circa 1990, you shouldn't be trying so hard to compete with your 15 year old daughter in dress and attitude.  At least try to act mature enough that other adults will respect you, as opposed to looking at you cock eyed and mocking you in a blog.  Oh, and if you persist in wearing pants that call attention to your butt, try to make sure your muffin top is hidden to some degree.  I don't know how many times I've seen multiple muffins peeking out from your velour waist band.

Appropriate Footwear

When I first moved out to this Satellite Village, I had to discover what awaited me at each strip mall with two small kids in tow.  We lived in a "condo" as the locals like to call it.  In reality its an attached town home in a PUD.  There are no organic neighborhoods here, everything is a PUD.  I remember when I was first working and I learned what a PUD was.  I snorted and discussed with my co-workers how sad it was to live in a PUD.  Lo and behold, look where I have fallen.  But that's not the point of this story.

Anyway, I had to drive around and discover where to buy groceries, where the book store was, what the hell I was going to do to entertain kids in this bizarro world.  The Little Ones and I would go "exploring" and just drive around, usually I would get lost since everything looked the same to me.  Strip malls and parched hillsides were everywhere.  But one thing was constant, Chili's.  Yes, we went to Chili's for lunch about twice a week for the first month we were here.  I'm slightly ashamed that I let my kids eat there so frequently, but at least they were entertained and they liked the crayons and the brownie sundae.  Plus, I didn't like cooking in my nasty rental kitchen with the strange tile counters and the forever dirty looking grout.  So I opted to take the Little Ones out for lunch and gorge on french fries and various deep fried foods.

So one day I was enjoying my fried food du jour, and happened to glance at a table across the aisle from me.  The woman sitting there during the lunch rush was wearing some Uggs.  Granted, they are comfortable and will keep your feet warm.  But what I didn't understand was the women and girls wearing Uggs (the boots!) with shorts and tee shirts.  Too much of a fashion victim from ten years ago.  Seriously, if your feet are so cold than wear some long pants.  Why is your entire body exposed yet your feet are ensconced in heavy sheep fleece?  Anyway, back to my Chili's Uggs Lady.  Sure she was wearing Uggs but not boots, she was wearing SLIPPERS!  Who the hell wears slippers out as outdoor footwear?  Slippers are made to be worn in the house, as you shuffle along from your bedroom to the kitchen to get a midnight snack.  Not for traipsing around to your local fast food restaurant.  And she was wearing the scuffs with the open back.  Those slippers aren't protecting your feet at all, they are just getting dirty and germy in the back as your shuffle through all the filth on the public street.

First I thought that maybe she was an anomaly and just weird.  But noooooooooo, at Little Man's preschool there is a mom who has also taken to this new fangled fad of wearing slippers as shoes.  I see her shuffle along (seriously, how can you walk in scuffs slippers?) as she crosses the street with her daughter.  And what makes it just so hideous is this woman walks like a duck, her feet are splayed outwards and she shuffles even in normal shoes.  So when you throw in the slippers its a total visual affront to my eyes.   Than a few weeks ago ANOTHER mom was wearing slippers to drop off her son at school.  Seriously ladies, you can put on some real shoes to drop your kids off at school?  You are obviously dressed (but that's a whole other story about what constitutes getting dressed out here) and you drove to the school with your child and his/her lunch bag in tow.  Yet you couldn't spend the extra 30 seconds to slip on some sneakers, or maybe even some flip flops if you're really lazy and pressed for time.  Plus, this is preschool - you're already coming to school 20 minutes late.  What's another 30 seconds?  Are you so lazy you can't put proper shoes on?  And you want to track in filth and germs into your home by wearing slippers all over the place?  Why don't you just let your dog poop in your house, because essentially you're sloughing in feces and who knows what else into your home.

The sad thing is these women obviously think they look good if they are dressed in non-sleepwear with slippers.  If you're going to give the impression that you woke up late and didn't have time to wear real shoes, than keep your pajamas on so I can have the whole package.  Pretend you're late, and not lazy or totally fashion impaired.  But this isn't even haute couture I'm talking about, but the basic tenets of fashion.  Street clothes go with street shoes, pajamas go with slippers.  Didn't your mother teach you how to get dressed when you were little?  Don't you also make your child wear shoes with their school clothes?  Why even give them the idea that slippers are an acceptable shoe to wear outside?  Bad role model and bad example.  But what's even sadder is what's deemed appropriate apparel by some of the women out here.  That's a whole other story.  Geesh, it's never ending out here.

Dubai

Ahhhh, Dubai....the name conjures up images of incredibly sleek modern skyscrapers reaching up into blue skies.  Palm tree created islands dotting turquoise waters and an increasingly developed country built on oil and tourism.  Yet supported by the backbreaking labor of Indians brought in to provide most of the manual labor needed for the tremendous growth in infrastructure.  It also painfully, yet hilariously, reminds me of how remote and insular the natives (as I like to call them) are in my new hood.

You have to understand, I was born and raised in New York.  Except for a couple of years in my early childhood when we lived abroad for my father's work, I've spent all my time in New York.  Sure I went away to college, Massachusetts to be exact.  For my high school graduating class, you went to the best college you got into, regardless of where it was located.  I just happened to be going to Massachusetts and I was very happy with my choice.  I spent my four years there and returned right after graduation to New York and my job search.  I than spent my graduation school days in New York, met my husband there, had a couple of kids, and shopped to my heart's content all within the 300 or so square miles encompassing Manhattan.  I was very happy.  Every year I made a trip abroad to visit friends from college, traveled with my family and friends, and tried to experience as much of the outside world as possible.  I loved reading the Times, and the FT when I was working.  But that all changed when I moved out West.

My current domicile is a small upper/middle class neighborhood about an hour away from LA.  We're not technically a suburb (in my opinion) but more like a satellite village.  A lot of the people who live here either grew up in the area and never left, or grew up in the area, left and came back.  So it's a somewhat incestuous village.  I'm not talking about six degrees of separation, more like two.  So with my innate bitchiness I've got to be careful with my snark.  People here don't understand it and seem to be a little too "nice" in my opinion.  So I tend to keep these things to myself.

Anyway, back to Dubai.  Now why would Dubai come up in this little hick town?  Well, I was walking to school with Little Man one day when I happened to hear two dads in front of me talking.  One, who was dressed in a dress shirt and slacks (I like to call him Professional Dad) was talking to another one who was dressed in a tee shirt and sweatpants (I like to call him Stay at Home Dad).  Professional Dad was talking about how he would be traveling soon, and so Stay at Home Dad asks him where he's going.  Dubai was the answer.  I'm thinking, "Gee, that sounds like fun.  I'd like to visit Dubai one day and see that hotel with the helipad that Tiger Woods hit golf balls off of for $1 million."  Stay at Home Dad decided to show off his knowledge (because after his answer I don't think he wanted to show off his ignorance) and said, "Oh, isn't that in South America?"  I almost bust out laughing, but I didn't want to seem like a rude eavesdropping bitch.  Seriously??  South America??  Didn't we learn about the various countries that make up South and Central America in middle school?  And Dubai has been in the news so much these last few years for its rapid development and wealth, due to OIL which usually is found in the MIDDLE EAST.  If you don't know where Dubai is, ask.  You have a mouth you can use besides flapping off erroneous assumptions and making yourself look like a bigger ass.  Or just nod and pretend you know.  Why show someone, besides your friend or family member who already knows you're not that geographically inclined, that you're a hick.  That was just ridiculously sad, yet funny at the same time.

I love telling that story to my friends back home.  I even tell my old SAs at Bergdorf so they can fully understand I'm in bizarro land.  They all get a good laugh out of it, and some people even ask me if Stay at Home Dad was joking.  Hell no, he was serious.  And that's what makes it all the more painfully funny.

Crappy Birthday Gift

So today is Little Man's birthday.  He turned 5 today, the big 5.  And we had a birthday party for him this past weekend.  It was a Batman themed party.  There were Batman masks, capes, bracelets, party horns, stickers, candy, pencils, erasers, plates, cupcakes.  You name it, if Batman could be slapped on it we had it.  He's been a hardcore Batman fiend for well over a year and the evite clearly stated this would be a superhero party (we didn't want to ostracize all the Marvel comic devotees). We mainly invited Little Man's friends at school, as well as one kid he wasn't really friends with.  Let's call this boy Doug.  Little Man was invited to Doug's party a few months ago and we went.  So the Big Man felt we should invite Doug to Little Man's party.  I was not for this reciprocity, but against my better judgement Doug was invited.  The party went well and it seemed all the kids had fun running around and getting high on sugar and pizza.  At the end of the party we packed up the birthday loot and took it all home.

Little Man, who is 5 going on 20, decided he would wait until his actual birthday to open all his gifts.  That seemed rather mature of him, and befitting his new stature as a 5 year old he waited until after dinner so we could all watch him open gifts as a family.  This went relatively well, considering he wanted to examine each and every gift in minute detail.  He had to read (yes, he can read) the description on each toy's box and examine the toy until I lost it and told him he better finish unwrapping all the gifts or he'd have to wait until next year to see what else he got.  He got to Doug's gift and the name on the card was misspelled.  That should have been a loud migraine inducing bell in my head that things would not bode well.  Obviously Doug's mom didn't quite catch how to spell Little Man's name from the evite.  Hmmm, maybe she had a bad day picking lice from her kid's head (another post) but we let it slide.  Than the paper was removed and we see a Kohl's box in front of us.  Okay, unless you're really familiar with the family and child, clothing (which was my first thought when I saw that box) is not really a good idea.  But I'm hoping there's a gift receipt inside and I can always exchange or return the items for something more appropriate.  The top of the box is ripped away (it was taped on all sides like the Crown Jewels were packed inside and could fall out at any moment) and the tissue paper was shoved aside.  Inside was something to lame and insulting none of us said anything for several seconds.  I sat there staring in disbelief, Big Man looked at me with shock and mouthed "what is that?", while Little Man said, "Wha...??".  Inside was some Jacks and a bear from Starbucks.

Jacks, that Depression era gift that all little girls played with for hours with fellow girl friends on the sidewalk, was given to my 5 year old son.  Along with a bear, bearing last year's date, from the Starbucks next to our preschool.  I bet that poor "Bearista" was either a gift to one of her kids or (this is what I'm leaning towards) a 75% off last year's model bear she decided to pick up while getting her morning latte the Friday before the birthday party.  Gee, talk about throwing together some crappy recycled gifts and calling it a day.  At least put a little effort into it, scrap the Jacks since this is supposed to be for a BOY.  I can understand the whole rationale behind regifting.  Regifting is an art form that needs to be appreciated in order to be successful.  I've done it myself but I try to make sure the gift is appropriate and the recipient would appreciate the item.  Plus, you never want to overlap people in case it ever gets back to them that you regifted.  But this "gift" was just insulting, and I'm absolutely flabbergasted that she had the nerve to wrap these crappy items up, in a Kohl's box, and slap a misspelled card on top of it.  It's just insult on top of insult on top of bad taste.  Big Man tells me that I just need to understand that the caliber of people out here is not what we're used to.  That's an understatement.  Where I come from a gift is something that is age and person appropriate.  That gift was so ridiculous I can't even put into words just how crappy it made us all feel.  Thanks Doug's Mom for killing the birthday buzz.  You sure know how to take the wind out of a 5 year old's birthday sails.  Now I'm just going to keep these crappy items and wait for an opportunity for me to wrap them all up in a Tiffany box for you.  Happy Mother's Day Bitch!

Welcome!!

This is my very first post on my blog, so forgive me if I'm a little disjointed.  But let me give you a little background information on myself.  I'm a SAHM with two kids, Little Man and Little Miss.  The Big Man, aka The Husband, is an ex Investment Banker/Hedge Funder/Private Equity man.  We hail from NY (where I was born and spent a good majority of my life) and moved out to LA almost two years ago.  It's been a slow and painful adjustment for me.  And when I mean slow, let's just say I'm still missing NY at least 50 times a day.  And when I say painful, imagine giving up all that is good and thrilling in life and being left with a desert of nothingness stretching out as far as the eye can see.  Maybe it's slight hyperbole, but this is my blog and that's how I feel most of the time.

Anyway, I have noticed since moving out here that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, is just a little off.  There's no wit here, no clever repartee between people.  Just a lot of smiling and nodding in agreement all the time.  How I miss snark, the biting humor you throw out amongst your friends.  The way one word, or look, can elicit a reaction of agreement or laughter among your kind.  So to make up for the lack of snark in my life I wanted to share my snarkiness here.  Sure it's anonymous, but I don't want the Stepford Wives I have to deal with every day to know that I'm mentally rolling my eyes at them whenever I see their vacuous eyes and hear their inane chatter.  Plus, I've discovered there are quite a few ignorant people here. For a relatively upper middle class neighborhood there seem to be a lot of people who didn't bother to pay much attention in high school, let alone give the impression they went on to college.  But that's a whole other post.

If you made it this far, than I'm hoping you will at least find what I have to say somewhat amusing.  At least it will kill a couple of minutes out of your day while you're waiting for your kid's (insert sport or activity here) practice to end.  Or you're killing time pretending to do work so you can leave the office at a respectable time.  Trust me, I've worked in finance for over 12 years before having kids and I know no one leaves the office before 6-7 pm unless you have a client meeting or your water broke.  Either way, welcome to my little bizarre corner of life.