I might have saved some of this for WTF Wednesdays (a segment that I have yet to introduce to this site) but that I really needed some totally Lite AM Radio blogging today. To, you know, shake off all of the cringingly earnest NPR/Our Bodies Ourselves blogging of late last week.
So, then: the news from WonderBaby Headquarters (and beyond!)…
1) Guns don’t kill people; Teletubbies kill people.
The Teletubbies, apparently, are falling back into their lives of crime. Six years after having caused some scandal by threatening children with gun violence, they’re back at it. That is, at least, Tinky Winky is: it was reported late last week that he informed a little Massachusetts boy that he was carrying a gun and not afraid to use it.
But maybe we need to cut Tinky some slack: after all, he is a member of an Oppressed Minority (gay handbag-toting plush toys) and has been the victim of public hate crimes and so it must be expected that he might act out occasionally. Perhaps the kid called him a fag? Kids can be mean. Maybe Tinky was just defending himself.
Then again, as the denizens of WonderBaby Headquarters well know, toys can be rough, tough and of dubious moral character. And so we were not surprised to learn that the Teletubbies deal in more than just guns. These guys put Tony Soprano to shame. Teletubbie Land is clearly the gateway to a vast criminal underworld.
Consider yourself warned.
2. If I could just get the Fed-Ex guys to take the package…
… Kristen could be one happy girl. Clive Owen is within rock-chucking distance of my back patio* as we speak (a benefit or drawback of urban living, depending on how you look at it, is the proliferation of film sets), and if I could get my aim right, I could probably bean him. Then, after he tumbles into my backyard, I could wrap up his crumpled body and send it to Kristen in Mississipi and she could do whatever she needed to do with him to get past her dry spell. But I don’t know that he’d get past customs.
(Unless, Kristen, you’re not averse to a little lush girly action? ‘Cause Monica Belluci is back there, too. And dude? She is smokin’. All the Angelina goodness with none of the creepy Bradness and holier-than-thou tatted-up do-gooder nonsense.)
*(Alas, no, I am not providing photographic evidence of this. Because there is nothing less cool, nothing less I-am-so-not-from-downtown – aside from socks with sandals, tickets to the Saturday afternoon Mamma Mia matinee, and stacked pleather heels – in the tribe of the Urban Dweller than taking photographs of film sets and celebrities. Because, you know, we are much too cool to care. Unless they do something really lame.)
(I will, however, post a picture of the lazy-assed production assistant who is currently napping on the wall at the far end of our backyard. Because taking photos of random stupid people and posting them to the Internet is not uncool. Mean, maybe, and possibly illegal. But not uncool!)
3. Why not keep Clive Owen for myself?
Because, although cute, not my type. And, because yesterday Husband and I moved our mattress back into our bedroom from the nursery and reclaimed the bedroom for ourselves, thereby putting an end to the adolescent sneaking-around that was coming to define the making-out part of our relationship. Which, okay, had its own appeal, I’ll admit, but still. Inconvenient. I’ll say no more.
4. Do they make these in adult sizes?
WonderBaby’s got a new piece of exercise equipment:
There’s something a little bit Red Shoes/They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? about the whole thing – dance, WonderBaby, dance! Until you can dance no more! – but she loves it. And it’s cute. And? Tires her out.
That’s gold ’round these here parts. ‘Cause the whole sleep-transition thing – out of bassinet into crib; out of swaddle into freestyle sleeping; Bad Parents out of nursery – hasn’t been fully sorted out yet. Baby’s doing pretty well at night – going down fairly easily, only waking once to nurse – but this has been at the expense of the daytime naps. Which, with an off-the-growth-charts, squirmy Baby who is intent upon putting her plans for world domination into play now, is exhausting. But if she gets a good workout, a good meal, a good snuggle, and then is put down in her carseat, she’ll stay down for at least 2 of her 3 daily naps.
And if making her dance ’til she drops helps that cause along, then I’m all for it. What can I say? I’m a Bad Mother.