Archive for Backstage

What You don’t Know about Women

I do not understand men.

Strange, random men, who need to use the worst pickup lines on women.

This morning, after dropping off Little Man at school, I had to make a stop at the supermarket.

Now, mind you. It’s 8:00 AM, man. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep over the past two days. I’m not in my everyday glammed-up (HA!) version of myself.

I’m not expecting some random dude to come smiling up to me, while he’s unloading stacked produce.

What’s worse, it wasn’t even good. You seriously trying to mack on somebody at 8:00 am and you’ve got nothing better than,”How about you give me your phone number, so I can call you?”

Yeah, how about I snatch that dead caterpillar off your face and make you eat it?!

I got a little too New York when he did that, because I just turned around with a look of disgust and went, “SO. MUCH. NO. How ’bout ‘HELL NO?!'”

I felt like I needed a shower.

Now, there are some who will say this was the wrong approach. It’ll only encourage him, because he got a reaction out of me.

Yeah, well. Guess what?

There is no “right” approach. Not if that’s how you look at it.

If I say something, I’ve given him the attention he wants. If I ignore him and walk by, he takes that to mean I’m affected by him and it just encourages him to do it again to the next woman. Insulting him will just piss him off, maybe.

Any way you slice it, if you’re a woman, the onus is on you.

“You shouldn’t have…”

“You can’t do that…”

“You’ll just provoke him.”

What about, stop acting like a jackass?! No woman appreciates that caveman bull. And if you DO approach a random woman you don’t know, if you’re so compelled by her beauty to talk to her, you’d better come up with something way more respectful and more creative than, “gimme yo numbuh.”

Good rule of thumb: If you heard it on an old episode of “Fresh Prince,” don’t use it.

Man, sit yo ass down!

In the Neighborhood.


I had a busy day today.
My Men (husband and Little Man) and I went to a birthday for a pair of twins we know.
We travelled all the way to Hoboken, a place where we spent our first year of marriage. We had a cozy basement apartment, plenty of friends, and a square mile of bars at our disposal.
In case you’re wondering, yes, it was that fun.

We walked to the party location (a bookstore! An actual bookstore!), reminiscing over all our old haunts, surveying the new stores and hang-outs, mourning our favorite places that now cease to be.

We arrived to find a frazzled mommy doing last-minute prepping. Within 20 minutes, we were overloaded with babies. We had a great time, reuniting with friends from the neighborhood. We’ve all found new neighborhoods, of course. Out of town, miles away. All with babies of our own.

We keep in touch.

Facebook helps.

Of course, it’s never the same.

But it’s not supposed to be, is it?




I suppose technically, I’m still kind of recovering from Saturday.

See, Little Man had his birthday party this weekend.

And among the things I have learned in this little(ha ha) excursion:

1) Never at our house again.

Back in the day, it was easier. When he and his co-horts were four, they could run through the house with a minimum of crowding. There was frolicking and free play with just about every toy he owned and that, pretty much, would be that.

It is now a FAR bigger production. They’re 6. They’re taller. They run faster and wreck the place at a much more aggressive level. Then again, having 9 kids in the place really was asking for it.

2) Don’t overestimate the power of pizza.

I knew they would devour it and leave some as part of a mess, but I did not expect the whole, “I’ve had three bites, I don’t want anymore until 20 minutes after you’ve taken it away” thing. Which, I admit, is silly. I mean, I have one of my own. How did I NOT see that coming?

3) Just get it.

Things that were essential to his theme I’d found online ages ago. I refrained from purchasing them right away, for fear of overspending. A rational fear, mind you, but one that hampered my party planning. A lot.

Next time, I’ll just buy as I go. Provided I don’t just throw in the towel and Chuck E. Cheese it next time.

Oh, who am I kidding? Even if I did do that, I’d try to re-arrange things to give it a “personal touch.”

4) Presentation isn’t always everything.

When I started out with this plan, I had a very different image of the cake I was making in my head. I plotted and schemed and thought of the confectionery options that were at my fingertips and how pretty the cake would eventually look and how I would be admired for the hood rat Martha Stewart that I am.

In reality, I barely had time to finish frosting the dang thing before people walked in the door. It was not one of my prettier creations, surely. But when the kids (and adults) dug into it like there was money waiting for them at the bottom, I realized I didn’t have to worry.

BTW, mint chip buttercream filling… covers a multitude of sins.

5) Thank God, mommy’s an actor.

Anyone who says theater and parenting have nothing in common, has never hosted a themed kids’ party in their house.

Man, I spent two hours, improvising my butt off! SOOO many things did not go as planned and I needed to keep things moving or suffer the consequences (i.e. Bored kids. *gasp!*) But nothing has prepared me for this nugget of terrifying truth.



Just… so many boys!

And they were all doing Boy things. Namely, pretending to be kung fu masters… on each other! I was shocked to discover at least twice the boys (including mine!) were throwing wild punches and kicks, using toy swords and foam fingers in a non-Mommy approved manner. Even wrestling on the floor!!

Is this what happens?

You wake up your baby one morning and all of a sudden the “boy gene” kicks into high gear and they’re not happy unless their friends are doubled over in pain?! I had no way of turning it off. I could just imagine the futile conversation I could have had with my husband, regarding this…

Me: “What possesses them to suddenly lose their minds like this?!”

Husband: “Umm… Testosterone?”

Me: “Well, tell them we don’t want any! I don’t like it!

I am not prepared for Boy World. By any stretch of the imagination.

But all in all, me, the husband, the boy and the house survived the afternoon.

And all of the kids left exactly the way I like: Fed, happy and injury-free.

We even survived our landlord taking THIS moment to sing an aria.

For the entire block. For at least fifteen minutes.



Some things you just can’t prep for, no matter what you do.

I left the few, scraggly dishes in the sink to wait for morning & rewarded myself with some wine.

Well, wouldn’t you?

At least, now that over. Now, I just have to get through the rest of Hanukkah, Christmas and New Year’s.

Where’s that wine?

Every Day a Little Death.

You know that old theater joke about a production of “Anne Frank” so horrendous, that when the Nazis show up, audience members tell them where she’s hiding?

Yeah, “Liz & Dick” was kind of like that.
Never heard so many people pulling for a successful overdose.

What’d I Miss?

So, you may have noticed I took a BIT of a hiatus before the election.

Trust me, the spammers noticed. (Incidentally, any REAL people out there reading this, I will accept sound advice on how to get these pests off my little corner of the sky. Thank you.)

With all of the immense immaturity (Yeah, Trump, I’m looking at you) going on in the weeks leading up to and following our nation’s biggest cat fight, I just didn’t bother. Guess I was just sick of it all. Campaigns make me weary now and election night adds on too many calories. Truth.

But now, it’s over and I’m looking at holidays. Almost as stressful, but at the very least tastier.

The guys in my band and I are participating in Movember and we’re slowly, but surely raising money. The hurricane made it pretty tough to focus on anything else. My piece of New York remained intact, but people I love in Jersey were affected. A lot.

And during the time they needed help the most, I couldn’t get there.

And I felt helpless.

I really hated that.

But for the most part, things are back to normal.

Looking for work, practicing with the Guys, taking care of Little Man, and shaking my head at the Stupid.

Yeah, I’m noticing companies doing a lot of stupid in order to avoid paying employees enough or giving them enough hours to qualify for medical insurance.


We’ve become SO damn greedy, that CEO’s can’t fathom paying workers fair wage OR providing health care?

Hostess has been drowning in debt, sales have been lackluster, but your CEO gave himself and all his executives RAISES and I’m supposed to believe that the problem is that the bakers’ union went on strike for the pay they were supposed to get in the FIRST place?!

Bitch, ya Twinkies ain’t all that!

Might as well call ’em Ho Cakes, the way you trying to screw everybody.

And breathe…

Okay, I think that’s enough outrage for now. Better pace myself.


Sunny Side Up

Reason #1,002 why I love my husband:
A breakfast disaster turned into a fabulous family moment.
I was making blueberry cornmeal pancakes this morning, when the bowl with ALL of the batter, suddenly flipped off the counter and landed on the floor. Batter. Side. Down.
It takes at least 15 minutes just to make another batch.
And my nice floor was just RUINED!
I was LIVID!!
I spent two solid minutes, yelling at a bowl.
A bowl, people.

My Husband walks in, assesses the situation and says the most fantastic thing he could say at this point:

“Get dressed. We are going out to eat!!”

In an instant, I was reduced to laughter AND tears.
A disaster was put in perspective, and I was reminded once again how much I love this man.
Only my husband would use this moment to quote “A Christmas Story”.

He reminded me that we’re finally even from the Great Lasagna Debacle of 2000. You get the idea.

So, we hit our neighborhood diner instead (after clean up, of course).
Breakfast was had with coffee refills, and all was right with the world. : )

Everybody Says Don’t

So, I’m having a fairly decent day.

Nothing to complain about.

The usual outrage over politics with my morning coffee was easily quelled when a reporter from FOX news (no, really) actually fact-checked Paul Ryan’s speech from last night!  Then, I got word that Sarah Palin’s fifteen minutes may finally be up.

Oh, I left my house a happy little mommy.

Took my little guy to the park for the afternoon and finished it off with a visit to Bareburger. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but the lamb sliders. Oh, heavens, the lamb sliders!

But as I was finishing up my cranberry blue salad (Seriously, I took some of the spinach leaves and blue cheese and put it ON the lamb sliders before inhaling them), I checked my Facebook for news of the day and a friend of mine exhibited her frustration over shoes.

Not like you’re thinking.

You see her son, like mine, loves to dance. But hers moreso.

Her boy has the bluest eyes, the rosiest cheeks and the most dancin’-est feet around. He loves it so much, he asks his mother constantly when he can go back. I hear tell his school wants to enter him in competitions, for crying out loud! So naturally, as the new dance season begins, she prepares to buy him tap shoes. She doesn’t want to go crazy with the price tag, though, because every mother knows you buy your boy new shoes, you take ’em home, you sneeze and by the time you reach for a tissue, he’s already outgrown them.

So, first stop on this crusade: Payless.

Well, why not? I see they have dance shoes for girls all the time!

Not only did they not have any, they practically scoffed at her for asking.

Dude, 80% of your shoes are made out of sawdust and lacquer. Don’t get cocky.

So, she starts looking for friends who might have some or even dance stores in her area. Nothing.

She finally finds a dance supply store in her town of Brooklyn. Heck, it’s the same store recommended by his school! They’re bound to be cooperative, right?

Wrong. Not only did they not HAVE the shoes she needed, they actually REFUSED to order them for her.

But what I love, is the reason they gave her for not complying with her request:

Boys. Don’t. Tap Dance.

Oh. No. They Didn’t!

Where did this insanely un-based theory get it’s origins?

And why the Dulè Hill is she getting this kind of flack from the dance supply store?!

As a mommy with a creative Little Man (how many 5 year olds do YOU know are familiar with movie composer John Williams?), I can understand Payless not having any. Whatever.

But for a place where they thrive, where they are completely dependent on kids going for their dreams and the parents who want to help them reach for those stars, for THAT place to deny her freaking SHOES is really damn ridiculous.

Is it a big, popular thing with boys? no.

But no one has the right to tell that mother and her child that he can’t.

That he’s not supposed to love this because no other boys do, which I know is not true.

And as a dance supply store, have you never heard of: Gene Kelly? Donald O’Connor?

Fred Astaire?

Gregory (and Maurice!) Hines?

The Nicholas Brothers?

How about Savion Glover?

Any of these names ringing a bell?

Fitness Underground, is it?

Congratulations. You’ve earned the crown.

You are the prime Dumbass of today.


Chicken Heads


Things have reached a pretty pass, haven’t they?

I leave for two weeks’ family vacation and all gay Hell broke loose.

There have been so many who have worked so very, VERY hard to achieve this oh so dubious honor.


CEO Dan Cathy

And let me just state for the record, my problem with this whole Chik-fil-A situation does not lie with what he said. Yeah, he’s perfectly within his rights to say and feel how he does. What I have a problem with is that he used the money from his company to contribute to organizations focused on revoking the rights of gay people. The money that I would allegedly spend at your establishment would go to groups that are working to make sure that my friends stay second-class citizens forever.

His actions spoke louder than his words. No, I won’t accept your chicken. Or your bull.

Bailey Hanks

I just heard about this chick the other day. A former reality star who starred on Broadway and is on tour in Legally Blonde, showed her support for Chik-fil-A to all of her fans on Twitter and promptly shot her theater career in the Jimmy Choo-bedecked foot.


I’m not going to say anything about her. Don’t know the girl. Never heard of her before. I will however say, “Hope the memories of Broadway will last you. A long, LONG time.”

Again, you have the right to express your opinion and belief. But when the gay community is pretty much your world, not to mention your bread and butter…

Hope that brownie was worth it.

Twit-heads and Bored Pundits

Heck, I’ll even tip the DA hat to the Olympics. Those critics of Serena Williams, or worse, Gabby Douglas. GABBY DOUGLAS! 16 years old, FIRST Black American gymnast to win individual gold and everybody was bitching about her hair. Really? REALLY?!!

When y’all can do Gold-medal winning, physics-defying, globally inspiring gymnastics in a leotard Richard Simmons wouldn’t try on, graceful and poised in front of a worldwide audience without sweating out YOUR perm, then you can say something.

Anyone? Well, I’m waiting.

No. No, no.

Of all of these, one truly stands out.

Bryan Fischer

The radio host and spokesman for the American Family Association recently declared that an “underground railroad” is needed to free children from their same-sex households?

Oh, Hell No!

So, I decided to NOT fly off the handle and first read the story about the mother in question.

The biological mother of the child in question believes that her former lesbian partner is negligent and possibly abusive to the child. With the judge demanding that the mother comply with the court’s refusal to keep the visits supervised, it put her in a terrible position. A pastor helped the mother and child escape to parts unknown. The pastor is currently facing jail time because of this.


End of story.

And if I were in a similar situation with an abusive ex-partner whom I couldn’t shake, yes, that would put me in a spot of desperation. And I would take my child and run. I would.

But my question to Bryan Fischer is, Does this apply to everyone?

What if the couple weren’t gay?

What if the mother was separated from an abusive, negligent father? Would this “railroad” still be in effect for those mothers?

What about the father who’s been denied custody despite a mount of evidence that the mother is unfit? Does this supposed “freedom train” apply to everyone, or just the ones from gay relationships? And are we talking about just the troubled relationships or ALL children from ALL same-sex houses?

Because if you’re just singling out the gays and lesbians, we’re going to fight.

You know perfectly well that your minions will take this as a call to arms to collect into mobs, and “rescue” children from their families, no matter HOW happy that child is. And were that to actually happen, I know it wouldn’t stop there. Because if you have your way, the parents like me, who tell their children that being gay is nothing to be afraid of, will be next on the list.

For everyone’s sake, I hope it never comes to that.

Because adopted or biological, I know gay people and I know parents. None of my gay friends are parents at the moment, but should you or any of your followers take it upon yourselves to try and liberate their children from their homes or mine, expect to leave that house with nothing but a stiletto in your eye!

I think we can bestow on you the Gold Medal of stupid.

You sir, are an Olympic-sized Dumbass!

Okay, now I’m done.


… And Pose!

Reason #4,297 why I love living in New York:

After dropping off my son at school, I took a Vogueing class.

With the man, himself, Benny Ninja!

Top Model fans, eat your hearts out!

Top Model fans, eat your hearts out!


Talk about personable! Of course, it helped that we only had 6 girls in the class.

We were taught some basic points of vogueing and how to make it yours. When am I ever going to need this? Who Cares?! I had a lesson with Benny Ninja!

And then, I got to pose with him in a picture. Of course, he looked amazing. I think I just might go for more classes before I’m done. I also took a Theater dance class later. Oh, my feet are mad at me. I imagine the rest of my body will punish me tomorrow.

But, I need to get my dancing legs back.

Finally got a new show happening!

More to come.

Oh, how the stupid exhausts me!

Are… you… kidding me?!
I honestly thought I’d heard all of the lame excuses used to ban marriage equality. And seriously, ALL of them are lame. But this one tops them all.
Now, thanks to Senator Brunstetter and his wife, we have a new level of stupid.

The good senator (insert imaginary sarcastic quotes here), who has written Amendment One for the North Carolina state constitution, wants it in the constitution to “protect” it from activist judges. But according to his wife, Jodie, it’s more than that. She was quoted by a freelance journalist as saying, the amendment her husband wrote was created to “protect the Caucasian race.”
No joke.
Protect the Caucasian race.
I don’t know who taught this chick her biology, but Mother of God.

In what universe does this make sense? I really want to know.

Gay couples do not procreate!! 

I thought that was the main reason you guys were so against them!

And now, you’re making this about preserving the race? Seriously?!

Oh honey.

Whether you know it or not, you “Caucasians” lost that battle a few centuries ago when your ancestors couldn’t stay out of my ancestors’ quarters.

Now you know. Surrender the fantasy.

So, now you’re concerned that not only will gay people have kids, they’ll have kids of different races, is that it?!
The logic. Where is it?

This is where I’m confused. All of these efforts to curb attempts to treat gay people like, you know, PEOPLE, have been rooted in the deep-seated belief that there is no actual love in a gay relationship, that they cannot and should not raise families because they are “sick.”

But over the past decade or so, I have seen some seriously “sick” behavior, but none of it has come from the supposed “deviants.” I have seen pillars of the community fall, supposed saviors of the family unit exposed in their never-ending quest to strive to retain their right to discriminate.

That’s all this is. Legalized, aggrandized discrimination.

Bill after bill after amendment after grand-standing rally, is all about scaring people into thinking it will be the end of civilization as we know it if we let people live their lives. Seriously, I think that most of the people who are trying so hard to prove to themselves that same-sex relationships aren’t valid have never opened their eyes and seen them as a family. They don’t want to believe it’s real. That the men and women they have been trained to despise their entire lives aren’t that different from themselves.

That. thought. terrifies them. 

But, in light of this woman’s idiotic notions, I think North Carolina and every other state should be far more afraid that knuckle heads like this woman and her husband are working for the state and are responsible for the rights of all citizens of North Carolina. That’s right, ALL citizens. You cannot pick and choose who your constituents love. There is no law for that, no matter what you do.

The answer to finding peace is equality.

Dissolution will be your downfall.

Figure it out now, or suffer later. Your choice.

But if you choose to continue on this path to convince the state you’re right, Mr. Brunstetter, do yourself a favor. Keep your wife from talking to the media. Don’t want the crazy getting in the way of your message.

Oh, the crazy IS your message.

Well, carry on, then.