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Showing posts from 2011

A Sparkly Pink Unicorn by Any Other Name...

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On many an occasion have I woken my daughter out of a dead sleep (to go to the bathroom or from a car seat nap) and after doing so she has uttered something quite unforeseen: "I'm afraid of spiders," or "Matisse is my best friend." But last night, I could not have imagined when rousing her from my bed to move her to her own room that I would hear her expound, "Princess Celestia!" Princess Celestia is a sparkling, pink unicorn from the My Little Pony series that Maxwell chose yesterday above all of the other toys at Target to be her present from Uncle Krik.


Truth be told, this is no ordinary unicorn; she is really quite...well...celestial with multicolored ringlets, and wings that light up when you push the cheeky button on her rump. As it turns out, she is also a chatterbox, spouting ear-cringing inanities. Now, I would never expect a toy with the unwieldy moniker Princess Celestia to extol the virtues of world peace or recite Portia's soliloquy …

Dismembering Santa

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It's important to note that the following article was first published in G Man Magazine, a deliciously wonderful online publication that you all must check out. (I'm on page 36.) Just click on the Happy Holidays button. Happy Holidays!


Michael  and I are scathingly honest with our kids. Well...maybe not Aunt-Bessie-got-shitfaced-and-fell-into-the-holiday-punchbowl honest, but honest in that age appropriate sort of way. For instance, Sebastian and Maxwell both know they are adopted, they also know we are a multiracial family and some of what that implies, my son understands he has learning disabilities, and my daughter is keenly aware that her black, kinky hair is a bitch for a white man with stumpy fingers to care for. 
Now, I've not chosen to be honest for some principled reason. I simply find it's directness an easier way to motor through life. To tell a lie or be decidedly vague to my kids and then have to remember and support that lie every time a certain potentially…

Simply Mari

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So many partially written blog entries...numerous, unformulated, yet juicy ideas bouncing around my over-crowded noggin...while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads...just waiting for me to jot them down, and still I haven't been able to write. I'll admit it, I've been stuck...like a truck in the muck...mired in apathy, self-involvement and evidently, too much children's literature...that Sam-I-Am, that Sam-I-Am, I do not like that Sam-I-Am. And then, to make matters worse, I made a sweeping, grandiose statement in my last blog entry (which was in July...yikes) that I am going to write a book. A BOOK for Seuss sake! What the fuck was I thinking?
Just as I'd make headway with a possible chapter, the kids would start reenacting an episode of Phineas and Ferb, or my ancient fourteen-and-a-half year old husky would have a seizure on the kitchen floor making me wonder whether it was time to call the kindly man with a lethal injection, or I'd have to attend a…

Big News

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I was out with Michael and the kids at a child's birthday party when I bumped into my friend, Quinn Cummings. (Klunk. That sounded like name dropping, didn't it? I honestly didn't mean for it to, but there's just no way to nonchalantly mention Academy Award nominated actress and now humorist author Quinn Cummings without sounding like some...forgive me...star fucker.) I always love my encounters with Quinn, she's intelligent, unpredictable and very funny. She was one of the folks who encouraged me to blog in the first place. Hers is a wonderful blog called the The QC Report. (I'm not sure if like in Stephen Colbert's show the"t" in Report is silent or not.) Be sure to take a moment and check it out.
Well, Quinn noticed I had not been posting as often as I used to, which is true, and I remarked I'd been busy with my shows, however I just happened to write a post-Independence Day piece about people against New York's passing gay marriage and …

Lost and Found

There is probably little more excruciating for a parent than putting the safety of your child into the hands of a total stranger only to have them not show up at the appointed time.
Bash is doing summer school this year and for the first time he gets to ride the bus to and from school. He's so thrilled at the prospect of ditching his booster seat he's pretty much forgiven us the fact he has to do summer school.
The bus takes him from our home school, which is four blocks from our house, to the summer school, and then in the afternoon brings him back to our home school. Wednesday was the first day and Michael and I met the bus driver, Grove (no, I don't know how he got his name...Grover? Mangrove?), who seemed perfectly trustworthy and told us to be waiting in front of our home school no later than 1:30, although he may be as late as 2:00 due to the fact that first days are often a cauldron of chaos and confusion.
Michael and I were a bit early for pick-up which turned out to…

Mommy Has Got to Speak!

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At the W Hotel in San Francisco the reading material is thin. There's USA Today and, oh yes, USA Today. And in thumbing through last Thursday's paper, which took me all of thirteen point six five minutes, what most grabbed my attention were the letters commenting on New York passing gay marriage.
There were four letters total, two pro New York's decision, and two anti. (Interesting to note, the dissenting voices were given double the space.) One of the naysayers was from Texas and the other Ontario.
What's wrong, Ontario, did folks stop listening to your vitriol in your neck of the woods, where gay marriage is legal? Did you so want to be heard that your only recourse was to reach across the border, finding voice in the Letters section of USA Today?
To support their same sex marriage argument, the two anti letter writers cited the Constitution, the Bible, our Founding Fathers, American values, scientific data or lack thereof, and Merriam-Webster; an auspicious grouping …

Requiem of a Five Year Old Hoochie-Mama

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My beautiful daughter, Maxwell, is turning five tomorrow. And if I do say, she has blossomed quite nicely in her wee time on this planet. And that's saying a lot since she started life as a wrinkled bundle of distrust. Truly, I know of no other child who could cut her eyes like my daughter at one and a half. But now, she's a loving (and sometimes goofy) little girl who can't wait to share her most prized possessions with her besties. Even this month, as if in anticipation of leaving pre school and embarking upon a busy kindergarten life, she has equally become more open, leading with a confident smile with its adorable overbite, and also more obstinate, showing a strong will and an alarming ability to spin lies. "No, I didn't take your scissors without asking and cut the fur and nose off of Stuffed Lion."

Now, this willful independence, as annoying as it can be, isn't my number one concern. As a matter of fact, I'm proud she periodically bucks the syst…

Suck on this, Sarah!

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By now, most of have heard the latest Sarah Palin gaffe. (What? Another one? Get out of town!) While visiting the Old North Church in Boston, Palin made a horse's patootie of herself when presenting her loose interpretation of Paul Revere's place in history. She insisted Revere warned the British (?) and did so by ringing lots of bells.
See for yourself...


Seemingly unrelated, on Sunday, my little family went to a fundraiser for the Pop Luck Club, which is an organization for gay dads in the LA area.
Sebastian, as usual, scored tons of tickets, sometimes by winning them at basketball dunking, sometimes by asking complete strangers for their tickets, and was able to trade them in for cheap ass candy and cheap ass toys.
Michael, however, made his killing at the silent auction and raffle winning even more cheap ass stuff. He scored a camera bag full of random Pixie Hollow items (oh, joy) with Tinkerbell's image emblazoned on EVERY SINGLE THING (double joy). Didn't matter if …

On the Boards All Month Long

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Self promotion can be so tawdry, just ask Donald Trump. However, I will brave the possible negative fallout and toot my own horn. My blogging has fallen short as of late because I am in middle of two rehearsal processes. That's right, Mommy is performing!

Opening on June 3rd is Invincible: The Legend of Billie Jean. The title might tickle a memory synapse (or whatever the fuck it is), for back in the big-haired eighties The Legend of Billie Jean was a movie starring Helen Slater. (Ah, Helen Slater...that harkens back, doesn't it? Her name brings to mind other eighties luminaries, such as Jan Michael Vincent, Judge Reinhold, Molly Ringwald and Cher.)
Well, a few liberties have been taken with our Billie Jean. Okay, maybe not a few...a whole battalion of liberties have been taken with our Billie Jean. (And no, this is not about tennis great, Billie Jean King, nor is it about the character in Michael Jackson's hit song.) Our show is...oh, what's the word...campy. Big time, …

Dream of Becoming a Stage Mom

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A couple months back when this pic was snapped, I had this crazy thought that my daughter could be a successful kid model. This is always a dicey speculation. The stories of bratty child actors/models are legendary.

But Maxie is special. She really takes to the camera. She doesn't do what Sebastian does, which is smile like a Cheshire cat gone rabid. No, Maxie actually seems to understand the nuance of posing. And her pictures are oftentimes glorious.
It did occur to me if Maxie were to be a child model then I, of course, would have to become a stage mom. I tried to put myself into Mama Rose's wedgies and pill box hat, and I began to see possibility... Swigging Chardonnay with Mama Kardashian and Mama Lohan, demanding my daughter's mini fridge be filled with Kabbalah water and diet passion fruit infusions, insisting her dressing room include tuberose scented aromatherapy tea candles, the newest set of Hello Kitty plushy collectibles and green tea Lip Smackers (it is implied…