Santa Baby, Trashy-Style

Santa baby, just slip a Snuggie under the tree, for me
I've been a semi-good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight (or since our fireplace is closed, I'll just leave the door open, mmmkay?)

Santa baby, you've got some liquor there in your arm, Boone's Farm
I'll get some red Solo cups
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight(or since our fireplace is closed, you can leave the booze on the front step)


















So much reality TV that I've missed
Think of all the mailmen that I haven't kissed
Next year I'll be oh so good
And if I don't get gifts I'm gonna be pissed

Santa honey, I want HDTV to watch Sandra Lee
I've been on Xanax all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight (screw the chimney, just ring the doorbell but for god's sake don't wake up my kid or there will be hell to pay!)






Santa cutie, there's one thing I really require, it's dire
Kate Gosselin's hairdo but higher!
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight (and bring a hairdresser with you, I totally need her haircut, it's SO CUTE!)

Santa baby, subscriptions to The National Enquirer, and US
and In Touch, that's not too much.
Santa baby, just hurry down the chimney tonight (don't come till after Tyra is over, though)

Come and see my trailer shine
With decorations from the Wal-Mart's on Route 9
I really do believe in you
And if the neighbors see you I'll whip out my .22





Santa baby, forgot to mention maybe a tat
How's that?
A rose with "Santa Da Man"
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Hurry down the chimney tonight (Or just walk in, the screen door's busted anyway)
Hurry down the chimney tonight (watch out for the pit bull, he ain't friendly)
Hurry down the chimney tonight.

Turkey, Pie and Paula Deen

Did you see on the news that Paula Deen was attacked by a ham yesterday? I mean, really. Nobody is safe.

Of course, the best Halloween costume I saw online this year was someone dressed as Paula Deen, snorting a line of sugar off of a stick of butter. Now THAT is a trashy mama. But I bet she has a helluva Thanksgiving dinner, with pounds of butter and all starches.

And don't get me started on Sandra Lee's Thanksgivings. Though I do admire a lady who can hold her booze like ol' Sandee.

So, in my house, I don't have to cook a meal, just pies and sides to bring to my mom's (you know, my mom, bastion of cleanliness). So, in my humble opinion, here are the top trashy Thanksgiving foods, some of which are featured at my house, some of which are merely dishes to which I aspire in the future.

TOP 10 TRASHY THANKSGIVING FOODS (with bonus Trash Factor ratings!)

1. Green bean casserole. It doesn't get much trashier than this. Canned cream of chicken or celery soup! Canned fried onions! The green beans are just bulk. All it needs to make it ultimately trashy is serve it to diners on the porch sofa. TRASH FACTOR: 8/10

2. Sweet potatoes with marshmallows. Extra points for using fluff instead of mini marshmallows. I mean, it's practically dessert. If your idea of dessert is marshmallow-covered crap. I know Sandra Lee and Paula Deen would battle to the death to get a bite of some of this. TRASH FACTOR: 9/10

3. Canned creamed corn. My mother makes this every year and at least 50% of the time, forgets it in the microwave. Which is ok as nobody misses it. Glutinous, glistening and gummy, this yellow evil on a plate is the stuff that haunts my memories of childhood holidays. TRASH FACTOR: 8/10

4. Cranberry sauce from the can: It must be served in one can-shaped blob to really wow the crowd. The quivering cylinder can then be sliced into discs that defy any spoon, slithering to the tablecloth and sheepishly being transferred to a plate via fingers of the diner. My mom has a special dish she uses for this canned sauce. Truly a Thanksgiving staple. TRASH FACTOR: 9/10

5. Jello salad (also called congealed salad by Southerners and church ladies). If nuts, cut-up cream cheese, or fruit are embedded in Jello, that is just plain wrong. Foisting these monstrositites on others for a holiday meal is damn near unconscionable. There are enough quivering, creepily-colored, nutritionally-devoid items on the table already! Now, I admit my aunt used to make a jello/cranberry, orange relish that was delicious but that was different - it was not served in slabs, didn't wiggle, and was served in a bowl, not a plate. That kind is a-ok with me. The other kind? Ewwww. TRASH FACTOR: 10/10

6. Pie. If pie is not served, or there is not enough pie? No jury would convict. And for those who feel that a cherry or lemon meringue pie from the store is just as good as apple or pumpkin? You're a commie. TRASHY FACTOR: 10/10.

7. Booze. If you drink enough, you won't have to worry about how shitty the food is. TRASHY FACTOR: 9/10 (10/10 if you get drunk on Pabst Blue Ribbon or Mad Dog 20-20).

8. Crescent rolls. Must be from the tube, whomped on the side of the counter, overbaked on the bottom and used to mop up gravy. Homemade biscuits are way too classy. TRASH FACTOR: 8/10

9. No green vegetable: Green bean casserole doesn't count. Truly trashy folks will not sully their holiday table with that there health food. Broccoli? Asparagus? WHY?
TRASH FACTOR: 9/10

10. Stove Top Stuffing! Need I say more? And may I also admit I freaking love the stuff? TRASH FACTOR: 7/10

Santa F-in' Claus

So, here we are, mid-November, and the toy commercials are upon us. Since Oscar is developing a taste for non-Nick Jr shows, we are now experiencing toy commercials.

I was heartened to see Hungry Hungry Hippos advertised on one of the kids' channels. And even the trashy-retro Baby Alive is back, complete with shitty diapers! There is even a takeoff on the Easy Bake Oven (albeit a weak one) featuring microwave cake (ew).

But, ok, can I ask, what the fuck are those Zhu Zhu Pets? And why O WHY would I buy them for my kid?

Now, the Imaginext Batcave? Totally will buy.

I'm such a good little consumer.

Of course my mother would tell me I should get the carpet steam cleaned before the holidays, but we're not going there again. Though admittedly the carpet is looking a bit, um, mottled.

It's been a while...

Ive been busy doing theatrical things that involved trailers and f-bombs. So, basically, doin' what comes naturally. And Oscar has been busy. Highlights and news in brief:

1. Potty training is still a bust. He crapped in his pants the other night and as I was trying to clean up the mess, he looked at his soiled Wonder Pets underwear and said regretfully, "Sorry, Ming-Ming."


2. He dropped the f-bomb this morning in a completely contextually accurate way. Yay for advancing language skills. Boo for F-bombs from a 3 year old. And the epithet he used was unfortunately one that I know he learned from me. Sigh.

3. Halloween was hilarious and involved three costumes and a metric shitload of candy. He is now over his candy corn obsession. That's so October, Mom. And please to give me props for not eating his candy. GO ME.


Back to our regularly scheduled trashy updates.

Corny

I know a lot of crunchy people who don't let their children touch refined sugar.

Needless to say, I am not one of them.

Oscar looooooves candy. Loooooooves chocolate. Licorice. Marshmallows. Lollipops. And if given candy, he will eat and eat and ask for more and whine or cry when I say no, enough already.

So, it's nearly Halloween, and Oscar is in love with candy corn. I mean, he would eat it by the pound if he could. I have moved it to the top of the refrigerator to keep him out of it. He discovered that he loves the harvest corn with the brown ends even more because there is a cocoa flavor involved.

The Halloween episode of Yo Gabba Gabba has a song called "Too much candy's gonna make you sick!" He sings it as he wolfs down a handful of candy corn.

"Candy coin! I want candy coin!" he demands. No please, just the imperious little voice looking for his sugar fix.

One might ask, why do I buy it, then?

BECAUSE I LIKE IT. NOW SHADDAP.

Poopy Yummy!

Oscar is now obsessed with poop.

He knows poop is yucky, so he says "Poopy Yummy!" He substitutes words in songs with the word "poop" (example: A B C D E F POOP!!!!!!) And because I am apparently twelve years old, I laugh.

He made his Pooh Bear poop on my face this morning and laughed an evil little laugh at me.

Then he realized Pooh Bear's name is Pooh, and laughed some more.

He is not obsessed enough to poop in the potty, however.

Now, here's where the trashy part comes in. I sang along with him to the ABC Poop song today, and laughed. I then substituted "booger". He parried with "fite" (fart).
Good clean fun. And yes, I found it hilarious, while telling him not to do that at school. Nice going, Trashymama! Conflicting messages! Start saving up for that therapy bill!

In case you were wondering, pee is neither funny nor interesting to him. No idea why. No mystery to it, since he pees in the potty? It's a lowly liquid to poop's majestic solid? It's not stinky enough? It's not gross enough?

The world may never know.

they call him The Wanderer, yeah The Wanderer

Why, oh why, would an adult male, who shall be nameless, teach a nameless male toddler to scale the gate we use to keep him in his bedroom? WHY?

Oh, that's why. SO HE CAN COME INTO OUR ROOM ALL NIGHT.


Thanks, honey. No, really.

Toddlerchow again?

I have just battled through another dinner hour in which my son ate a bit of guacamole, the top bun from his pulled pork sandwich, and nothing else. Asparagus? "NO, Mommy, that's yucky." But it's yummy, roasted in the oven with garlic and salt and pepper and it's all crispy on the ends, and whoops, Mommy seems to have eaten it all.

He did eat a hot dog for lunch, but didn't touch the bun.

This weekend, he has rejected nearly all nutritious food in favor of nuggets, fries, and hot dogs. The pediatrician exhorted me to NOT GIVE IN and to give Oscar the same things we eat, and tough shit if he doesn't eat it. But Oscar, though he loves Locatelli romano cheese, spices and porcini ravioli, still will not touch a vegetable. In fact, he painstakingly picked the teeny chopped green onions from the fried dumplings we had Friday night before devouring the dumplings.

Now he's playing one of his favorite games, Horrible Car Accident, with his Matchbox cars. Is it inconsistent of me to not let him have toy guns but allow him to play Horrible Car Accident? Or have a pirate sword?

Ah, screw it. Too much thinking. Mommy needs some wine.

Potty Training, Part Deux(ky)

Get it? Deux-ky? No? Bueller? Bueller?

Ahem. Anyway.

Can I just say that potty training suck-diddly-ucks, and that even the trashiest of trashy mamas does not want to spend her time cleaning poop off of tiny Spiderman underpants?

Is there a trashy alternative here?

One of my crunchier friends was going to do elimination communication, but I think I'd have to kill myself first (using only organic knives of course).

Fictional TV Characters I'd Like to Smack the Shit Out Of

1. Dragon F'in Tales.

Between the annoying voices, the political correctness (a dragon in a wheelchair, which I don't get - if you have all this magic around, why doesn't someone throw it at the disabled, oops, I mean DIFFERENTLY ABLED dragon?, all the Spanish-speaking dragons, etc), the moralistic tone and the mediocre-at-best animation, this show just grates and grates and grates. It wants to be Dora the Explorer SO BAD, yo. Plus, the neighbor Enrique has to be the most ridiculous character in the whole show, and that's saying something when you are comparing him to a bunch of dragons, one of which has two heads. "Hm, Max and Emmy aren't Hispanic enough, and the Spanish-speaking dragons aren't doing it for me, either. Let's introduce a new, more Latino character who will only say 'Si, si!' and 'Bueno!'" I wish some Narnia characters would wander in and kick all of their asses.




2. Max and F'in Ruby. Where do I start? They have no parents. They live alone in a house, but Grandma will venture over every once in a while for tea, and then she gets the hell out of Dodge. This could be fun, except for the fact that Ruby is an enormous killjoy. None of the other adults in the town seem to care that Ruby and Max live alone. Perhaps their parents ended up as a coat or a meal for some humans. Max is capable of only one word at a time, like some creepy film noir character gone wrong. On the other hand, Ruby never shuts up -she's a fountain of pontification. Who died and made you boss, Ruby? Oh yeah, that's right, your parents.




3. F'in Caillou. First of all, the voice. Whiny. So, he's four, that's ok, right? NO. I also hate when it's clearly an adult woman's voice pretending to be a male child's voice. Plus, his parents look exactly the same. It's totally cool if Caillou has two mommies. Or maybe it's the old adage about married people starting to look like each other, but this is ridiculous. The coolest person on the show is Grandma, who is an artist who feeds birds out of her hat, bakes, paints, and makes pottery..and can GO HOME AND NOT LISTEN TO CAILLOU AFTERWARDS. The only slightly redeeming quality might be that Caillou gets to ride a Zamboni in one episode, but the driver didn't even have a mullet. And this is supposed to be Canada, people! I haven't seen a single Tim Horton's, or a mullet.



4. THIS TOOL. And yes, I consider him fictional. Because he's clearly in fantasyland.

Yum nummers

Normally, Oscar eats typical toddlerchow - nuggets, fish sticks, hot dogs, turkey burgers, pasta. He won't eat a vegetable that isn't a potato, though he will condescend to gnaw a baby carrot every once in a while, and I did get him to eat brussels sprouts by napping them in lots of cheesy saucy goodness. Like his mother, he'll eat anything if it's covered in cheese.

The problem is, he usually won't eat meat. That is, actual meat. If he is given a piece of chicken he will chew and chew and chew and eventually spit it out. Since he evidently considers the entire world to be his napkin, he just spits the food out wherever it's most convenient - the table, my hand, the floor, his plate.

(This reminds me that when I was a kid, I used to like Oscar Mayer bologna, but only the edges of the slice and one bite out of the middle. My great-aunt used to buy it for me when I was at her house. I'd eat the edges and bite a hole in the middle and I'd hide the rest under the divan in her living room. Her cleaning lady, Stella, would find it days later. I found out later that my dad used to hide the fat from his bacon in her bookcase when he was a kid, so I clearly come by this genetically. But I digress.)

This is further complicated by the fact that Oscar would prefer to eat at the coffee table in front of the TV, and we do eat there, way too often. So he spills lots of food. I've resorted to a drop cloth under his chair, which is also great for catching random potty-training accidents.

He does like some odd things - guacamole, salsa-flavored Sun Chips, dried mangoes (hmmm. is there a Mexican theme here?). He has eaten Indian food on several occasions. He will sometimes eat rotisserie chicken. On the other hand, he only mildly likes mac and cheese and much prefers fettucine alfredo (I know. Same thing. He's convinced it's not.) But if left to his own devices, he'd eat cheddar goldfish, SpongeBob SquarePants shaped Cheez-its (yes, they make them), popcorn, Pirate's Booty, and chocolate milk for every meal.

I think I'll invent some universal toddlerchow that tastes like mac and cheese and nuggets and hot dogs, that can be consumed from a bowl in front of the TV and doesn't stain the carpet when dropped. How's that sound? Like every mother's dream?

Training Pants

Oscar is potty-training. This is serious business. He is not at all interested in this. He's of the "poop now, tell Mom later" school of thought.

I bought some adorable, tiny briefs emblazoned with various cartoon characters for him to wear, and he likes them. But why would he want to piss all over Diego and poop on Lightning McQueen?

Though he did pee all over his Lightning McQueen chair, it was an accident.

But, really, why do they put beloved characters all over diapers and underpants? Are the kids supposed to be trying to keep Brobee safe from poop, and therefore run to the potty to spare him? (Actually, that's not a bad idea. "Don't poop on Brobee, honey! You'll make him cry, and then he'll stink, and then Muno won't play with him, and Toodee will make fun of him, and then they'll sing about it!")







UPDATE....

Oscar took a huge dump all over Brobee. And when I told him that Brobee doesn't like poop, he shrugged.

He is So Over Brobee and his poop issues.

Duggarlicious "J" names

I'm still thinking about the new Duggar baby on the way. Since I am sure they are waiting with bated breath to see what I think, here are my top J name choices:

BOY

Jor-El
Jehosephat
Jamal
Jagermeister
Jagger
Jean-Baptiste
Jethro
Jonty
Julius

GIRL

Juniper
Jubilee
Jezebel
Jinks
Jaguar
Jemima Puddleduck
Jim-Bobbie
Jambalaya


EITHER SEX

J'enough-Already
Jello
Jumbo
Jackalope
Jalapeno


So many purty names to choose from. I hope the kids get to pick again. I can see Jackson totally rooting for Jalapeno.

Yummy treats!

A friend of mine posted a photo of this litterbox cake she found online. A thing of beauty, isn't it? So realistic! Crumbled oreo litter, brownie poop and some blue sprinkles for more realistic horror. I kind of love this. Wonder if Oscar'd like it for his birthday...no, too cruel.

But it's still way cooler than its prissy, old-auntie equivalent:




I mean, it's too pretty! Why make a dirt cake if it's just going to sit there and look pretty? Isn't the whole point to get people to say EEEEW?

This one is marginally better, but again, too clean and pretty.





I still think the litterbox cake wins, hands down. Trashy? Check. Chocolatey? Check. Horrifying? Check.

Let me know if I can make one for you.

Trashy versus Crunchy

In a war between trashy and crunchy, who would win?
(and thanks for helping me get this chart posted, Pat. HTML table FAIL. I suck at this.)

Like my new dots?

Thanks, Pat, for creating my nice new template! Looks fabulous, doesn't it, kids? I particularly like the Cheeto-orange dot at the top. Makes me want to run right out and eat some processed imitation cheese food!

Duggarlicious

Am I a bad, trashy person if I admit that despite their fundie, female-inferior, educationless, Goodwilly, super-crowded clown-car lifestyle, that I kind of love the Duggars?

And Michelle Duggar is having another one. I suspect it's so she can keep her daughter-in-law in her place. "I'm the Alpha Uterus around here, babe! And don't you forget it!"

But seriously? Tater tot casserole! Ice cream sandwich cake! Dixie Stampede, which is like Medieval Times for Southerners! That giant fucking tour bus! Modest bathing suits! What's not to love?




And Michelle's hair is pretty bad, but it's nothing compared to Kate Gosselin's!




I just love them. Maybe if I get a bad hairstyle and have about ten more kids, I can get me a teevee show too, y'all!

Fart, toot, break wind or pass gas

My mother thinks "fart" is a very vulgar word, and refers to them as "winders" (as in "break wind").

Whatever you call it, it's still pretty funny to hear my kid say "I fighted, Mommy." (He can't say his "r"s). He finds farts amusing, but not rip-roaringly so (pun intended). Just enough for a snicker or a smile, most times.

I always tell him I hear a duck, as I think farts and ducks can sound a bit alike (work with me, here). He says, sternly, "That was not a duck, Mommy, that was a fight."

Guess he told me.

And yes, I am eight, because I still find farts funny, as long as I don't have to smell them.

Don't get me started on Dutch ovens.

Trashy Eats

Ah, a weekend of trashy eats. I am trying to eat more healthy foods, and so of course I had to order a freaking PILE of hashbrown casserole at Cracker Barrel on Sunday. Cause that's how I roll.

That stuff is pure evil on a plate with approximately elevently jillion calories and four trillion grams of fat, but who cares? YUM.

And I admit it was delish...I'm not too classy for the Barrel, yo.

We also ate barbecue for dinner Saturday (I know, between Cracker Barrel and barbecue, you'd never know I live in the Northeast.). I had a vat of barbecued pulled chicken and grilled sausage....so good, but argh, not healthy eating.

I'm on an all-vegetable diet today as penance.

Kiddie Mullets...the ultimate in training-wheel trashiness!

Ok, I admit that I find the kiddie Mohawk sort of cute, in a "boy, that's cute, bet that the parents are hipper-than-thou" way. But kiddie mullets? Cruel. Just wrongity wrong wrong.

It's dooming a boy to a future full of plaid shirts with the sleeves cut off, domestic beer, Southern rock and an extensive baseball cap collection (unless, of course, he is a professional hockey player, in which case, all bets are off). Though, I suppose someone for whom a mullet is desirable haircut would aspire to these things. It's like giving your little girl a stripper name - how can they possibly move beyond it? It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. You might as well ditch the 529 plan and start a fund for the breast implants she'll need when she turns 18. And the mullet somehow never really goes away - it just grows larger, and more menacing. When the poor kid grows up, he's already marked as a Mulleteer. And how many mullets do you see on college campuses (except for hockey players, who again get a pass).

So Aunt Trashy begs you, please, don't sacrifice your child's future. No kiddie mullets, please.

Unless he's good at hockey. In that case, the mullet is practically required.

Proud sponsors?

Ok, as I've admitted before, we watch TV at my house. Most is toddler-friendly TV like Noggin (commercial-free). Sometimes, Sprout (has commercials) or Nick (has commercials). I am always a little surprised by who advertises on these stations and who they think is watching. When we used to watch a lot of Sprout, I used to see the same commercials over and over and over.

I mean, Sprout is for little kids. Little littles. And there used to be the same four commercials over and over again, clearly aimed at the parents. One was Resolve Carpet Cleaner (the irony!), during which my son Oscar would mock the terrified guest who is forced to stand in the rain so her hostess doesn't have to suffer the humiliation of DIRTY CARPETS.

Seriously, that bitch had ISSUES.

I guess they figured people like the TrashyMama (HA!) could benefit from their fine product. Or, we can just shrug while our toddlers spill more sauce on the carpet.

Another commercial was the fantastic Pancake Puff Pan, a paean to which was posted earlier. A strangely manicured woman created and filled a variety of puffs with various substances, some of which actually looked edible. One of my favorites and eerily effective.

And Huggies Diapers, featuring an insane woman whose hysterical pregnancy clearly was carried forward to its logical next step - she carries a brick around in a Snugli, giving it rides on a seesaw and sliding board. Way to go, Huggies! Mock the mentally unstable!

Last was Mott's applesauce/Motts for Tots. M for T is readymade watered-down juice, because moms are too busy to turn on a spigot and water the juice themselves. The Busy Mom in the commerical laments the fact that watering down the juice cuts the Vitamin C. Lady, if that's your biggest problem, YOU ARE NOT THAT FUCKING BUSY.

(Disclaimer - I buy Mott's for Tots drink boxes, but that's for traveling. SO STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT).

And the applesauce commercial wasn't too bad, but they kept referring to the (flavored, creepily discolored) applesauce as Scooby sauce, which instantly puts it into stoner territory.

Don't even get me started on Muzzy.

Legionnaires have left the building

Remember when I said my mom thinks my carpet has SARS, swine flu and Legionnaire's Disease?

The Garbage Man got our carpets cleaned today. And had an antibacterial/antifungal treatment done (to the carpet, not to himself!). So, I will go home to a clean palette for future messes fresh and clean living room.

I won't know how to act around clean carpet. Do you think I should give Oscar spaghetti and red sauce for dinner, and let him eat in in the living room? Just for old times' sake?

Killer Boogers

No, not THAT booger.

My son's boogers. Trashy Mamas, have you ever felt judged when your kid is boogery and you are not on Super-Vigilant Booger Patrol? My son is in the throes of a summer cold and his poor nose is just streaming. Stemming that tide would require me to stand next to him, kleenex in hand, wiping continuously, for about a week.

Being a toddler, he has recently discovered the joys of wiping his nose on his sleeve. I don't encourage that (I'm not that trashy), but when he is not with me, he does what he wants. At the end of a day-care day, he might have some booger tracks on his sleeve. He gets a talking-to, but he doesn't really care. And hey, it's washable.

So, I am feeling a little judged when we go out and his nose is running, and I don't get to it right away - say we are in the grocery store and I'm getting something off the shelf. Someone invariably will comment - his grandmother, strangers in the store, whoever - "Oh, his nose is running! Don't you have any tissues?" and LEAP into action as if a split second of booger on his philtrum will have the same affect as, say, ACID. I feel like saying, you know what? It's only booger. Fending off strangers with tissues was not part of the Parenting Handbook.

My mother is particularly clucky about this. "Tsk!" she'll say, shaking her head as she wipes his nose (which takes care of the problem for exactly .68787765 seconds). The implication is that I don't wipe it, ever. I do wipe it! Over and over again! But I am not a sharpshooter! Sometimes one gets away.

I don't let him go around snotty all day, but come on, people! Boogers are not going to KILL you. I promise.

Trash nightmares

After posting that scary-ass, trashy food-pusher, Ronald McDonald, I had to see if I could find me a trashcan clown or two. And I did.

























































































Are these cans supposed to encourage children to approach, happily, and discard their refuse?


Or are they a statement about the bleakness of circus life, as the jaded junkie clowns open their sad lipsticked maws for another fix of soggy cotton candy cone cores, chewed gum, and old fries?

Shudder.

I'm lovin' it

Yeah, my sister and her kids and Oscar and I had Mickey D's for dinner last night. Wanna make something of it?

I am ashamed to say that I enjoyed my Southwestern Salad very much.

Oscar could live on McDonalds' chicken nuggets - they are evidently far superior to their pale, limp, and lower-fat supermarket cousins. And a bonus Ty Beanie Baby was in the Happy Meal! Total bliss.

Plus, the fries kick ass.

Who'd-a Thunk It?

Who would have believed that Laura Bennett, the faaabulous upper crusty Mama from Project Runway - the one who never wears sweat pants and always wears 4" heels, even when 9 months pregnant - would stick up for trashy mamas everywhere, or at least, parents who dare to give white-bread sandwiches and Cheetos in lunch bags to Snotleigh and Jayston and McBraylynn?

She's okay in my book, despite the Louis Vuitton luggage, Birkin bag and four nannies.

She probably has a Louis Vuitton trash can, for God's sake.

She wrote an article in the Daily Beast about overprotective food mothers, who blame hot dogs and Cheetos for all their kids' problems...hey, wait a minute.....

My War Against Food Nazi Moms - The Daily Beast

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Dear Aunt Trashy

Since people clearly need help freeing their trashy sides, I am here to help. I know many of you Gentle Readers were brought up nicely, and that's not your fault. I can help you find your inner Britney, y'all.

Send your questions to dearaunttrashy (at) yahoo dot com. I am ready to offer wisdom with a side of Cheez Whiz.

I am so proud!

My little sister just admitted that she put her makeup on in the car while driving to work today.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: This is dangerous. Do not attempt.

But, oh, so, trashy! I'm welling up a little.

Or that could be last night's beer.

Trash from Friends

A couple of friends are willing to take out the trash.

JenMc says:

We've lived in our house for 6 years and still don't have a dining room table. Instead, we have a folding table that we basically use as a giant shelf and we stash hockey bags and our kids' ride-on toys underneath. It's too much trouble to get to the store and find a table we agree on and the folding table is so easy to scoot out of the way to make room for the kids to play.

Jen, that's impressive. But the fact that you actually scoot it out of the way for the kids, rather than making them play under and around the table, keeps it from being 100% trashy.

The question is, when you use the table to dine, do you clear it, or eat around the mess by pushing it all to one side of the table, as we do in my house?


And Andrea, of the funny and not-trashy blog Go Get Your Jacket , says

Except for very early on when they were still considered preemies, I have disinfected all binkies, sippies, etc dropped outside by the mom's saliva method. Better than Purell.

Nicely done, Andrea. Don't you know that even DOGS have cleaner mouths than we do? Well, okay, technically, that's bullshit. But it sounds really scary, doesn't it?

I have also employed the saliva method and it skeeves me the hell out. It reminds me of my mom or my great-aunt cleaning my face with saliva as a child.

Ewwwwww.

Pancake Puffery

Is it so wrong of me to want a Pancake Puff pan, so I can make a healthy pancake breakfast for my son, and then FILL THEM WITH CHOCOLATE PUDDING?

I think not.

Though it does look like a home colonoscopy or something, doesn't it?

One of my friends used to give enemas in a hippie massage school, and I suspect it didn't look too dissimilar.

Some of my favorite, or at least most notorious, Trashy Mamas. Long may they wave...or whatever it is they do.

Welcome to Trashytown!

Hello from the Trashy Mama.

Or, Hey, Y'all! if that's how you roll.

I am not trying to out-Britney Britney, nor am I embarking on a rampage with Bon Ami cleanser and a hanger or two.

But, I am willing to admit the following:

1. I don't shop at Mini Boden and don't think I can even make myself do it.

2. My toddler son does not own dressy pants or shoes.

3. Yeah, we watch TV in my house. Sometimes, not even commercial-free TV.

4. We haven't had our carpet steam cleaned in so long that my mother claims it's harboring SARS, swine flu and Legionnaire's disease. Frankly, it's pretty stainy. But hey, why bother? My kid will just fuck it up again right after we clean it! And why not, he's 2, for God's sake!

5. We eat hot dogs. Often.

6. My son thinks that "YOU GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOT! STUPID PEOPLE!" is how you greet other drivers on the road.

7. We utilize the 10-second rule. Sometimes, the 30-second rule.

8. We keep a tricycle in our living room.

9. My son owns 2 guitars already. And one's electric.

And finally,

10. I still manage to masquerade as a Nice Mommy to strangers, despite 1-9.


Well, NO MORE. I will not be ashamed of my trashy tendencies, but embrace them, as I lick the orange powdered cheese off of my fingers.

I encourage other undercover trashy mamas (or dads) to add their secret shame to my blog.