Bumped

When I was bumped from appearing on Anderson Cooper last year, I'll admit I was disappointed.  But I understood.  National politics and global uprisings were the big stories of the moment.

Mommy bloggers from Chicago aren't supposed to aim that high anyway.   Drinking coffee with "The Silver Fox" was just not in the cards.

Yet when a very nice producer from the Steve Harvey show contacted me about appearing on Steve's new daytime program, I felt for sure this time, things would work out.  After all, Steve Harvey is also the host of Family Feud.

I LOVE Family Feud.

I grew up watching Family Feud at my grandfather's (Papa's) knee. By the time I was nine, I was practically a Family Feud savant. I could rattle off all the top answers in seconds. Even Papa began shushing me so he could figure out the answers without my help.

Papa passed away nearly thirty years ago.  I felt this was some kind of sign from the great beyond.  Papa wanted me to hang out with the host of Family Feud.  It was a circle-of-life thing for sure.

As dates and scheduling were sorted out, we already had gotten further than I did with Anderson's ambiguous producer, "Yeah, yeah, we'll fly you out to New York next week sometime...we'll call you."  Plus, Steve Harvey tapes the show in Chicago, the city of my heart and soul. 

But I got bumped.  Again.

This time was different, though.  Instead of a cold, heartless email from a New York producer saying something like "Please destroy this email, and should WE ever want to deal with YOU again, someone will contact you," Steve's producer CALLED.   On the phone.  Like they used to in the 1950s before texting.

Classy. 

I told her this felt like Anderson Cooper all over again, and she was really funny and reassuring. 

Whether or not I ever make it to the big Steve Harvey show remains to be seen.  But the fact that there are well-mannered professionals still in media who don't treat people like expendable plastic bags warmed my heart. It gave me hope even, and pulled me right out of my full-blown seasonal affective disorder rut.

I have begun thinking about those folks who DO garner all the media attention, and I've come up with a plan.

I'm going to admit to doping while blogging.

The story has legs, no?

Crocodile Tears

Did you know that crocodiles will eat just about anything?

I promise this will make sense if you visit my latest in Chicago Parent.

Visit "A Bench With a View" for Special Epic Mom Coupon & Book Review

I am not going to lie here.

I love Betty.

Love love love Betty.

Betty writes over at A Bench with a View.  She writes some spiritual stuff, she writes some funny stuff, and she writes stuff about her corgi Koda.

I didn't even know what a corgi was until I started reading Betty.

Betty was kind enough to do a review of Epic Mom on her blog.  To thank her and anyone who visits her site, there is a special $5 off coupon code in the COMMENTS section (but be sure to use the CreateSpace link and NOT the Amazon link). 

Betty is better that cream cheese, bacon, and Bailey's put together.

So pay her a visit.  Use the coupon.  Follow her.

You won't regret it.

Home Inappropriate Home

I have been forbidden to reveal names and distinguishing attributes of the participants of a recent 1980s-themed high school prom night party.

I offered these local moms and dads money, amnesty, and fame.  The photos were satirical, hilarious, and extremely clever. Each attendee worked hard to display unique elements of the Joan Collins/Ronald Reagan era.

Despite my pleas, the revelers all insisted that they simply enjoyed making each other laugh.  They never really intended to shine a public spotlight on their mullets, jean jackets, and big hair.

Obviously they do not blog. 

But they should.

Anyway, after much negotiating and bargaining, I was finally able to secure the approval to share one rare photo.

A certain female party-goer arrived in her fabulous 1980s prom dress sporting a very obvious faux baby bump.

Several hours later, this was discovered in the bathroom:

Before moving to my neighborhood from downtown, people often told me I had an inappropriate sense of humor and that I really should keep more things to myself.

And then I found my home...

...amongst people who put fake babies in the potty.

When tragedy and strife abound, there is always someone here who can make you laugh.  And if they can't make you laugh, they sure as hell will buy you a drink.

Vive la Beverly!

All Washed Up

After last Saturday's evening at the laundromat, I am happy to announce the old dryer is back up and running.   While keeping three crabby kids in line for four hours was quite the challenge,  the "inspirational" signs posted all over the walls left me quite disconcerted.

It wasn't because I don't enjoy a good inspirational saying now and then, but I do ask that those sign people use the correct versions of their/they're/there, you're/your, and it's/its.  Didn't anyone watch Schoolhouse Rock as a kid?  It was all I could do to not whip out my magic Sharpie and correct each one by hand. That magic Sharpie lives in my purse and lies in wait at all times for just such grammar emergencies to occur.  I was actually ready to pull it out when I noticed the laundry maven giving me the stink eye. 

She was a big woman. 

Sometimes, you just have to pick your battles.

I am not above making the occasional grammar mistake, but if you're going to post such things for lost and laundered souls to stare at in-between wash cycles, the sh*t had better be right.

End of rant.

I may pop in next week with trusty Sharpie for one last attempt to right this wrong. There's a slighter laundry maven who works Tuesdays.  I think I could take her.

What I wouldn't do in the name of grammar, syntax, and the Queen's English.  I am practically Professor Higgins.

Does anybody even know who Professor Higgins is anymore?

I am so old.

But I'm old with dry laundry.  Woot-woot!

Joey was upset that I would not spend $200 in quarters to win a $1 stuffed animal.  He is holding a toy drill, and threatened to use it to to break in and "free his duckie."  My own little Michael Collins.



Jack thought the laundromat was the neatest place in the world, and wondered why we didn't go there every day. I think he is going to love college.

You know Dan.  He may be preparing for a career with the FBI based on his staunch refusal have his picture taken.  

Les Miserables & Me

I know enough about Les Miserables to tell you that the original Eponine was snubbed at the 10th Anniversary Concert and one of those goofy Jonas brothers nearly ruined the 25th Anniversary Concert.

So find out what happens when I decide to give the  new movie the old college try.  I brought some newbies.  Read the full story here at Chicago Parent.

I can't post about Les Mis without a link to the song I blast throughout my house the day before the start of the school year:

One Day More!!

Please cut me some slack.  I spent 5 hours at the laundromat this weekend.  With three kids.  And $200 in quarters. 

I really want an 8 load washing machine for my birthday.

There's something fitting about seeing Les Miserables the same week my dryer broke.  You just don't understand human misery and suffering until that happens.