Noooooooo!!!!

This morning I was changing the baby's diaper. He was babbling and I was talking to him, just like we do every morning. Nothing was amiss, until I looked down and was met with the most disturbing sight: an erect baby penis.

It freaks me out to even type the words "erect" and "baby penis." How could this be? In disbelief I looked at it again and it was still standing at full attention. I yelled for Jason to come into the room and check it out. He started laughing when he saw it. He assured me it was normal. "It's just the blood going to that area, honey. That's all." I was beyond horrified. Magnus continued to babble and kick his legs, completely oblivious to his protuding boner. I told Jason to finish changing him and I dashed to the computer. I Googled "baby erection" and was stunned by how many search results I got. One item was particularly funny. A husband, who was either English or Scottish, wrote on a blog that his wife was changing Henry's "nappy" when the lad's penis shot straight up, scaring his wife. Someone commented that it was a perfectly normal phenomenon, her lad's willy was also frequently erect, but he was a happy child so there is no need to be concerned. Another blogger wrote that her two-year-old son sprung wood at a family party but she threw a blanket over his lap and no one noticed!

I am dismayed. I feel Mags is already growing up way too fast. Now he's having erections, which I thought were years away. Damn you, Father Time.

Michael Jackson is dead

The world learned today that the King of Pop died unexpectedly at age 50. The news reports starting hitting early Thursday afternoon and by 3 p.m. it was the only story being covered. I read a few news reports but didn't give it too much thought. Farrah Fawcett died earlier in the day and it was a bit of celebrity death overload.

I got in my car to drive home and turned on the radio. "Thriller" was blaring and I remembered being in junior high when that album came out. It was the like the second coming. I switched to another station and it was the Jackson Five sweetly singing "ABC." When we first started dating, J burned me a CD of various songs and "ABC" was the title track. When I switched to yet another station, it was "Human Nature," one of my all-time favorite Michael Jackson songs. It suddenly struck me how much of his music served as the soundtrack for pivotal points in my life. I remembered riding the school bus and hearing the first cuts from the "Off the Wall" LP, which were so infectious and amazing. There hadn't been anything that sounded like that before.
As "Human Nature" played gently and sweetly, the tears came. Not for the passing of this artist, but in gratitude for the music he gifted to the world.

Ayatollah rock n ' rollah

I am encouraged but also pessimistic about what's happening in Iran. Kind of a weird emotional place to be. It's uplifting to see the public rise up and demand accountancy but if history teaches us anything, those damn mullahs will try to crush the people like grapes.

I've broached the topic with my father, who left Iran when he was 18. He has one sister who still lives there but he has not spoken to her in years, nor to his nieces and nephews. He has never taken a trip back to Iran and he doesn't actively talk about his life there. I called him the day after the election to express how saddened I was and he agreed that it was likely a rigged vote. "But those people, what can you do," is how he left it. I tried to incite him but he downplayed my sentiments and then conveniently changed the subject. It was maddening but later I realized that deep down the situaton bothers him deeply and he feels powerless, as so many people do.

I am still hopeful that a more moderate regime will assume power one day and that I can actually visit the country and meet the host of relatives I have never seen. Hopefully Pops will be around to see that day.

Life as a 5.5

It's challenging enough being short but what makes it even more tough is finding comfortable shoes. On top of being a size 5 1/2, I also have feet that are narrow and with high arches. I've walked this earth for 30+ years wearing shoes that never quite fit. They are usually too wide, or half a size too big or completely lack support. It's a miracle that I've not thrown in the towel and just resorted to wearing slippers. I own only one pair of shoes that are a perfect fit. They are five years old and about to break into small pieces but they are my lifeline.

I went shopping a few weeks ago and it seemed like only ugly shoes came in a size 5.5. Did all the women in Southern California suddenly sprout long, fat footsies? Is there some bias against us shrimps? I ended up leaving with nothing and feeling very mad. The experience made me think of an old friend, Debbie, who actually had it worse than me. She was 4'11 with massive boobs and size two feet. She looked like she could topple over face first at any minute, with nothing to help balance her. She had to buy her shoes from a kid's shoe store. How humiliating, to be in your 20s and 30s and 40s and never qualify for the adult section!

I guess I can live with the size six Charles David mules - as long as I don't really have to walk anywhere.

these musicians suck a---s

The fact that these artists get airtime eludes me:

John Mayer

John Legend

Corrine Bailey Ray

Pink

Matchbox 20 (especially Rob Thomas)

The Fray

these things make me nostalgic

Op shorts

Sunkist 

Vans sneakers

Feathered roach clips

Skateboards

Sun-In hair lightener

I think these things are obsolete:

Garlic bread
Napkin rings
Saucers
The Republican party

seeking: decent radio stations and a football team

There's a lot about LA that confuses me but what really gets me riled up is the fact that A) we have horribly bad radio stations (a mish mosh of Top 40, pseudo-alternative, Spanish language and country music) and B) no major football team.

How is this possible in an internationally renowned city? No good stations to get one's groove on? No team to call our own? I'm not a football fan but even I want a home team I can root for once a year.

This morning I drove to the office and I swear, it was like being transported back to 1993. KROQ played Alice in Chains, old Incubus, even older Korn and then a Nirvana song, for good measure. The new indie station was slightly better (Neil Young, Pretenders, Elvis Costello and Bob Marley, back to back), but even then, they don't play emerging artists.

Yesterday was worse: I actually heard the Human League's "Don't You Want Me," which took me back to my thick black eyeliner days.

Someone 'splain this to me.

where did all the skinny people go?

This past Saturday, J surprised me with a wonderful impromptu trip to the LA Zoo. We arrived pretty early but the crowds were already swarming. As we migrated through throngs of people pressed up against the monkey cages, it occured to me that once again I was among the thinner people on the premises (editor's note: I still have seven pounds of post-pregnancy weight that never melted off. I ain't a size zero.)

We hit the reptile section first. I counted nine motorized carts carrying overweight zoo go-ers (many of them eating ice cream while cruising) and at least 25 chunky women in shirts that were two sizes too small. In a couple of cases I actually thought they were pregnant. There was one incredibly rotund man and I had to do everything in my power not to stare at him. He looked like a small village.

There were hordes of fat children running through the petting zoo. They seemed to have a lot of energy, screaming their heads off. Their hefty parents stopped their adult conversations to shush them.

The next batch of fatties was near the giraffe exhibit. A very large woman actually stepped in front of me and completely blocked my view of the giraffes, along with the sun. I cursed at her silently.

We drove home about an hour later and I found myself thinking, most people think LA is the land of skinny, super health-conscious individuals. In certain areas of the city that is true. Occasionally I get my hair done in Beverly Hills and if you glued all the women there together you would still have a normal sized person. But somehow, in the center of the city, where people from different communities convene, you suddenly feel like you're in the Midwest.

I could lose a few pounds and tone up. I am not the model of perfect health by any means. It's scary to think that on that day in LA, I would be considered thin.

I'm done with you, Twitter

I am a very slow adopter when it comes to technology. I don't own an iPod. I use a Blackberry because I am forced to. I think I was one of the last people in America to join Facebook. So it was probably inevitable that I would eventually stumble onto the craze known as Twitter. My colleagues are doing it, friends are doing it - hell, Anderson Cooper is doing it.

After registering and setting up my Twitter profile, I found myself at a total loss. What the hell do I do now? I guess I am supposed to "tweet" about what I am doing in 140 characters or less. Um, I am staring back at the computer screen. I'll probably go to the bathroom in 10 minutes. Eventually I will eat lunch. Is that what I am supposed write about? People actually care? I decided to follow some friends and see what inspiration I could glean from them.

One person posted a link to a CNN story. Well, I do that every day, given that I work in PR and all. Another friend tweeted that she was going to get her nails done and she would "BRB" - I believe that is be right back. Good, because lord knows I would be sick with worry not knowing where you were for 30 minutes.

There was another tweet filled mostly with acronyms. My patience was running thin and I was in no mood to decode the message.

I abandoned Twitter for a couple of days to mull it over and think about something compelling to post. I decided to comment on the shooting of the abortion doctor and how archaic our society still is. I logged on and was met with about 25 tweets - but sadly, it was more of the same. More links to news stories that I'd read elsewhere, side remarks about how traffic stinks (also posted on Facebook pages) and something about a shoe store having a sale.

I know Twitter has captured the world's imagination but I confess, I just don't get it. I have a Yahoo account, my work e-mail, Facebook, BB and this blog. I get text messages on my cell phone from M the nanny and my boss pages me if I disappear for 15 minutes. I'm fully immersed in communications, all the time. Do I really need one more platform that at the end of the day mirrors more of the same comments, rants, needs?

I know a thing or two about relationships and I think my relationship with Twitter is dunzo.

Go the eff away

Despite living in LA LA Land, I try valiantly not to get caught up in celebrity news. It can be hard when the lead story on KNBC-TV has to do with Tom Cruise or the latest celeb spawn. But I really do make an effort.

However, having seen one too many photos of these folks, I am befuddled as to why they are considered celebrities in the first place.

Nicole Richie
Kimora Lee Simmons (Baby Phat? Try Phugly.)
Kim Kardashian
Spencer & Heidi something or other
Katie Price/Jordan

Do we really need "breaking news" stories about where these people go for vacation, or photos of them at a Coffee Bean? If the media insist on following celebrities, how about interesting celebs - as in good actors or musicians? I'd love a photo of Exene Cervenka or Om Puri here and again. Work with me, people.

I need to meet this gaylord

I had the annual dental appointment this morning and took 3rd Street to head back to work. I was driving along, feeling very minty, when suddenly I realized I was passing perhaps the gayest house in America. It's a large lot on 3rd and Muirfield that used to be owned by Nat King Cole. The current owner has placed 18 white statues of Michelangelo's David around his driveway. Each statue is slightly distinct from the next. There is a huge wrought iron gate that actually has the name of the manor, Youngwood Court, etched right into it. A brightly colored orange and yellow SUV sits on the driveway and there's more iron and fencing than the former East Germany.

I went online and found this image, which gives you a sense of how the house morphs during Christmas. I wonder what kind of parties this guy throws. I consulted the LA Times and apparently the owner put up one statue first, which pissed off his neighbors, so he kept adding them. He sure loves him some David.

I suppose it's better than ringing your driveway with those annoying ceramic gnomes...