Eating Over The Sink

Hey friends who come here to read my musings on life and parenting.

It's with utter delight that I'm here to inform you that as of TODAY you can start reading me regularly on Babble.com along side my writing partner, fellow comedian and good pal Samantha Bee.

Check us out here:

Make Me Laugh Monkey

I would love you forever...

xoxoxAllana

Movie Reviews By My Kid: The Zookeeper

The Zookeeper runs 1hour 44 minutes and is classified as a comedy/romance.

Here's what my four year old had to say:



What was the movie about?
There is animals that talks, a giraffe that talks and a bird that talks, there is monkey that talks.

And that's it?  
No, there is an elephant that talks, there is princesses in it.  They are marrying from their baby.

What does that mean?
It means that the baby pops out.

Oh, they are going to get married and have a baby?  
Yes.  And there is a boy that has a car that saves people.

Is this the Kevin James character?
mmmm....yep.

You know who Kevin James is?
No.

Then how do you know who I am talking about?
I just know these things.  And I know because I saw the movie.

So what does he do in the movie?
He helps animals turn alive because one animal was dead in there.

How does he do that?  
They got a bottle of beer and squeeze it in their mouth and they turn alive.

The animals drink beer?
Yeah.

Was this a kids movie?  
No, it was an adult movie.  It was a lot of fun because it wasn't Kung Fu Panda.  The moose was dead so they needed to squeeze beer in its mouth.

Are you sure it was beer?  
Yes.  Because it was a green bottle.

Do you think Kevin James is a good actor?  
Yeah, because their is a woof (wolf) in there that shows him how to pee on a rock.

How many stars would you give this movie?
I don't know...maybe 20 stars or 60?

Movie Reviews By My Kid: KUNG FU PANDA 2

My four year old is opinionated  (I have no idea where she gets this from).  Here are her thoughts on Dreamworks Annimation's latest feature:

Kung Fu Panda is 1hr and 31min.  It's classified as Action/Adventure/Family.  

Did you like Kung Fu Panda?

No way.

Why not?

Because it was like fire hoya- sing.  I did not like it.

Can you elaborate?

It was like firing balls, shooting to the baby and then like the bear went hoy-a! because he didn’t want to get fired.

What do you mean he didn’t want to get fired?

There was fire balls.  The mean pirates were trying to fire Kung Fu Panda.

Did you like anything about the movie?

No.  I said get out here Dadda.  Get out here!

What would make it better?

If I was brave.

What do you mean?

I don’t know.  I liked the good part.

What’s the good part?

It's...that...(pause) when Kung Fu Panda was in his home family.  

Anything else you want to say?

Nah.

How many stars would you give this movie?

Why?

My Family Vacation Photo

I just lost hours of my life.  I decided to press the "next blog" link at the top of this page and found myself lost in the abyss of Bloggerdom.   I came across one blog with hundreds of travel photos this woman had taken along with captions about how her life was perfect.  As I clicked deeper into her blog and photo journal (yes, I started to feel like a stalker) I found myself searching for at least ONE photo where her and her husband had a hair out of place.  Come on!  Surely one of you got the runs in Mexico?   Or you got a little too drunk at your wedding?  Nothing.  They were indeed the two most perfect looking people I've ever seen in my life.  There is no doubt in my mind that they iron everything.  So this photo is for those of you who might have clicked on "next blog" and found my site.  The below photograph was taken by my husband because I wanted at least one photo of me and my girls in Cuba.  There is nothing staged in this picture.  It's just my life.  Enjoy.  Oh, and don't buy armless sunglasses.  They don't work.

Random Acts of Awesomeness

There are some days that, no matter what happens, you assume are going to be bad.  I recently had one of these days.   I woke up with a golf ball sized pimple nestled right under my nostril.  One of those immensely painful zits that most likely started to form way back in 1986 and has taken this long to see the light of day.  Trust me, I'm not one to talk about pimples, I rarely get them, but when I do you can spot it from a helicopter.   I tend to spend the day being so focused on the new inhabitant on my face that most people assume there is something seriously wrong with me.  I try and keep it to myself out of fear that the person I'm talking to might have cancer and think my zit preoccupation qualifies me for asshole of the year.

For me any sort of break out is usually stress related.  I have often thought how handy it would be to have some sort of hormone detector at my door that I could insert my finger into and know how to proceed with my day, like:

"Red Alert!  Do NOT,  under any circumstance,  press send on ANY emails today that begin with,  "Dear F@#kface..."

But unfortunately I just need to gage my own mood, or possibly take my husband's reactions into account.  I guess.

So that's how my day started.  How my day ENDED was a whole other story.  If you haven't read my previous blog:    http://thingsyelledoutinpublic.blogspot.com/2011/03/fox-broke-my-heart.html you may want to check it out, because what happened next is kind of awesome.   (Okay, here's where I assume you're going to go read the blog and come back to this post.  I will wait for you.  I promise.)

I sent that blog to the artist because if I didn't buy his painting the least I could get from the situation was a good story.  He responded that "he would make it up to me".  I thought this was sweet because really,  he could just assume I'm a psycho who clearly can't let things go.  Fortunately he didn't make this assumption (He has never seen me play cards.  How could he know?).   Instead he sends me a message that he "has something for me".  Let me reiterate - we are complete strangers and I didn't for one second think he was "going to make it up to me".  The only thing he knows about me is that I'm a bit of a cry baby and I LOVED his fox painting on a core level (note - I do not cry when I play cards).  Of course, as fate would have it, we are practically neighbours.  When he arrives at my house he pulls out a framed, signed, print of the Fox.  The print is signed 1/1 so I will be the only person to ever have a print of my delightful fox (yes, Juice-bar man, you heard me).   This is a gift.  Why?  Why you ask?  Why would this artist spend his own money to give me a beautifully framed print?  For one reason, and one reason only:

He's Awesome.  And perhaps he knows that almost on a daily basis I will look at my fox and be very, very, happy.   Chances are, I wouldn't even notice if I had a gigantic painful zit.  I'm sure he noticed mine though (how could he not?) but he said nothing, nor spoke to it directly.

So Richard Ahnert.  You're Random Act of Awesomeness did not go unnoticed.  You completely changed my day (my week!) and reconfirmed my belief that art is more powerful than anyone gives it credit for.  I truly believe you're going to be famous.  Not only because you're are a profoundly gifted artist but because you're just a really great person with a big heart.  Your mother must be proud.  Please send her this post and tell her I'm sorry I used the "f" word.

So check out Richard's website at: http://www.ahnertart.com/gallery.html

Now I must go stare at my most awesome Mr. Fox...

The Full Bum Salute!

I never spent a lot of time thinking about being a parent before I became one (not recommended btw) but I knew there were two things I would never, ever, ever, do.  And they were:

1.  Yell (or more like scream) my husbands name through a crowded area to get his attention, and/or
2.  Bend over to change my child's diaper (on a sun lounger) while wearing a bathing suit.

I assumed people who perpetuated these two acts were also the kind of individuals who'd  remove their teeth with pliers or eat an entire rotisserie chicken while standing.  Oh silly me.

I am disappointed to let you know that I have committed both of these parental crimes.  I'm not proud of it but it was done out of sheer necessity with the ultimate goal of saving time.  Which, as any parent knows, means everything.

Have I also started wearing swimming socks and adult versions of my children's clothing?  No.  But clearly one can never say never.  I distinctly remember when and where I was when I made the fateful decision to yell across the crowded airport and bend over to show my hiney (side note: it didn't happen at the same time).  I was tired, starving, travelling with two young children and my husband is a little bit deaf.  The idea of moving the sleeping infant, the crabby toddler and the suitcases made me start sweating profusely so I just stood up and yelled, "MICHEAL!"  What made matters worse is that most of the planet is called Michael, so I immediately had about 40 people look my way.  Once they realized I wasn't calling for them, instant relief glazed over their faces combined with a judgemental stare that said, "that woman needs to be medicated".

The full bum salute is less forgivable.  I just got too comfortable in my bathing suit.  There is something about the combination of a Pina Coladas and hot Cuban weather that makes one feel invincible.  It's the same reason why senior citizens start bathing topless when vacationing for more than a month.  And don't get me wrong, there's a part of me that LOVES this kind of carefree lifestyle.  But no one needs to get an ass in their face while also being subjected to the changing of a babies dirty diaper.  It's just wrong.

And yes.  I will most likely do both again.

But if you see me wearing swim socks please feel free to throw rocks at me.  I think that's fair.

When...Is...Royal...Wedding?

Just a few days ago I asked my Mother-in-law (MIL), who was visiting for the weekend,  when the royal wedding was and she looked at me with an expression that clearly read, "What is wrong with you?"    It was familiar to me because it was the exact same expression she used when we first met and I revealed that I was a vegetarian - except then, her dumbfounded look was proceeded by her passing me a dinner plate with a giant summer sausage.   I'm pretty sure she also uttered something about vegetarians being losers.

So, with no one looking over my shoulder, I pulled up my trusty google and typed in "when...is...royal...wedding?".  I was a little shocked to learn it was only days away.  So next, I typed in the obvious: "Who..is...getting...married?"  

Just kidding.  I grocery shop, which puts me waaayyy ahead of all the losers out there who don't stand in line for hours, therefore missing the opportunity to read all the juicy headlines from the gossip rags.  Yes, somedays, my life is so fulfilling.  

Which brings me back to Katie and Willy and their wedding day!   Whoohoo!  Good on you.  And although I love weddings I had no interest whatsoever to wake up at 5am on a Friday morning to watch this thing.  I take sleeping very seriously.  I really have no idea who Kate is and I thought William was still 5 years old.  I'm not a royal watcher and the closest thing in my life to the British is my mother's deep obsession with all things Coronation Street.  And why watch the real thing when you can just instant replay all day long?  I might watch it Friday night when I catch the news around 6ish...

Or... I can find myself lying in bed this morning at 6am staring at the ceiling thinking, "I wonder what her dress looks like?" and quickly racing downstairs to eat my breakfast cereal and take in some royal cheer.  I turned on the tele (see how quickly I can turn?) to hear "....pronouce you man and wife."  It took me about 3 and half seconds to start weeping a little  (don't ever invite me to your wedding.  I sob.  It's humiliating for everyone) and all I could think was, "It actually looks like she might have slept."  How is this humanly possible?  Why don't her eye balls look like they are surrounded by life vests?  I slept for 2 hours the night before my wedding and I locked myself out of the bed and breakfast to look for food.  Why I was looking for food outside in a wooded area at 3am is still a mystery.  But Kate looked relaxed.  As if to say, "What cameras?" 

So I find it utterly unfair that on HER wedding day I'M now exhausted.  

But still, because I'm a generally good spirited human, I would like to leave her with one decent piece of advice:  If the Queen offers you a summer sausage, eat it. 

Oh, and don't go looking for food in a wooded area in the middle of the night. 

Hope that helps.