So there's been a lot of talk about Muppets lately

And so, I found this quiz:

You Are Scooter

Brainy and knowledgeable, you are the perfect sidekick. You're always willing to lend a helping hand. In any big event or party, you're the one who keeps things going. "15 seconds to showtime!"

The Muppet Personality Test

Blogthings: Discover the Parts of Your Personality that Have Been Hiding

I'm surprised I'm not Gonzo, to tell you the truth. Gonzo's the man. But this also seems pretty true to me.

In defense of No Line on the Horizon

I'll be the first to admit it -- unlike a lot of U2 fans, who squee at everything that the band does, it took me awhile to warm up to their latest album, No Line on the Horizon. But normally, I come from the "HATED IT!" school of thinking and then warm up to something. Rarely do I love something from the outset, and when I do, I LOVE IT.

But I'll admit, I was disappointed to hear that No Line On the Horizon hasn't been selling well. And really, I think that it deserves a chance. It's more challenging than their previous two albums and the anthem songs are few, but I really think that this album prevented U2 from heading into Rolling Stones territory of sound the same all the damn time.

I talked to a U2 fan once who admitted she heard the album once and didn't like it. I told her the same thing I'll tell everyone here -- you have to give it chance. You have to listen to it repeatedly to peel back the layers. This isn't the simple first-person anthems that we all know and love. In No Line on The Horizon, several of the songs are from a character perspective -- a traffic cop, a junkie and a soldier stationed in a war zone -- and it's important to understand that.

And really, that's one of the wonderful things about this album. It's unexpected and it also highlights on of U2's strengths really -- when they're on fire, they can write some interesting songs. Breathe is a marvel for combining Dylanesque lyrics with the U2 anthem chorus. Cedars of Lebanon paints the picture of a war correspondent missing home and the images he sees in a foreign area.

I really believe that this album is amazing -- even more amazing than their previous two, which appeared to me that they were getting their bearings after getting slammed by Pop. It doesn't hit you right away like most singles -- it creeps into your mind and you absorb the songs and realize how much you like them and how good they are.

Edge said it best in an interview with the Guardian:

"There's a lot of records that make great first impressions. There might be one song that gets to be big on the radio, but they're not albums that people ... play a lot. This [isn't like] that, I gather from talking to people. Four months later, they're saying, 'I'm really getting into the album now.'"

And he's absolutely right. Give the album a listen. You don't have to listen to it constantly, but just listen to it. Give it a chance. It's a gem.

Writer's block. So I stole a LJ quesiton.

What three items would you place in a time capsule to help future generations understand you?


1.The book U2 by U2. I think that anyone who bought that heavy motherfucker of a book AND read it in bed, is a true fan of the band. And seriously, I did do that. It's an unwieldy book to read in bed.

2. Kitchen knives. Because I like to cook and I like to wield knives and sharp things.

3. This blog. Or a laptop containing this blog. That should do the trick in getting a good picture of me.

And on the fourth day of "I WANT MOMMA" Momma cracked.

Today I think was a bad day. While I have had fun snuggling the kid as she recovers from her cough, the "IWANTMOMMA.WANTMOMMA.WANTMOMMA.WANTMOMMA." chant has gotten old. It's been her mantra lately as she coughs and hacks her way through this illness (thankfully, she's recovered from the fever).

As a result, I have spent more time on my ass watching TV and not doing stuff than I care to admit. I can't leave her alone because she follows with the pitiful cry of "IWANTMOMMA.WANTMOMMA.WANTMOMMA." in a sad, hoarse voice that tugs on your heartstrings, but after a few days of it, it gets old. Real old. Claustrophobic old.

It reminded me of the first three months with Benevolent Dictator and how I had such a hard time just holding her. I enjoyed it, but really, I also liked my freedom of movement. I like being able to cook, tidy up and do other things around the house. Holding onto a child is nice and all, but try doing it without the ability to do anything else (or the option of doing something else) and really, the shit gets old.

So today, I nearly lost my damn mind. Benevolent Dictator kept whining for me and begging for me and I just snapped. I think it's in combination with last night when she couldn't fall asleep and just lay their chanting, "IWANTMOMMA.IWANTMOMMA," which works the guilt reflex real nice too.

Here's the thing: I would love to scoop her up and have her sleep next to me, but I also know that may not be the best thing for her. Right now with everyone sick, we were all in different beds for awhile. It just feels better when you're sick to stretch out and be comfortable. And I know that while she'd like to snuggle me, you rest better when you're SLEEPING IN YOUR OWN DAMN BED AND NOT KICKING YOUR FATHER IN THE FACE.

So I wasn't the best and most patient and kind mother I could be. Being stuck in the house all day as dishes piled up, crumbs went unswept, toys got scattered and a tot chanted, "IWANTMOMMA.IWANTMOMMA," got to me. I wasn't exactly good. I snapped. I cried. And when the toilet got backed up, that's when I really flipped out.

Fortunately, there are friends who are equipped with alcohol and fun conversation to help me out sometimes. And this was one of those times. While I managed to flee the house yesterday, it wasn't quite enough. Especially after today, I needed a little bit more.

Also, I have to thank Jeff for being understanding enough to know that sometimes his wife needs to flee the house for a bit and clear her head. He may be a homebody, but I'm not good at it. But no matter what, Momma comes back. I always come back.

I guess what's the point of this? Maybe to point out that parenting isn't perfect and we all have really shitty days. The trick is to forgive yourself and be prepared to start the next day/week/month/whatever with a new face. And also to realize that tomorrow is a new day. Because really, you have no other choice in the matter. But that's life in general -- we always have to get up and do the next day, and the day after that.

As Mr. Slinger said in Lily's Purple Plastic Purse, "Today was a difficult day, tomorrow will be better." And damn, if that mouse wasn't right.

Lady Gaga is the white Grace Jones

Seriously. Check out the Bad Romance video. SHE SETS HER BOOBS ON FIRE!



It's like a haute couture fashion show and some crazy art film made love to a techno soundtrack and birthed this!

Sadly, Videophone with Beyonce isn't as insanely fun:



It's like they tried to mix Bouncy and Gaga and instead of AWESOME, they got something that was kind of dampened down. Like mixing sushi and chocolate -- sometimes two great tastes do not go great together.

I have to credit my friend Heather

For saving my ass with this little gem:



Which basically describes the joy of a newborn and diapers. Actually, I suspect I can hear many mothers laughing hysterically at this commercial.

The illness continues to ravage our house and Benevolent Dictator has been demanding my attention and snuggles. She's had a fever as high as 104, which resulted in a visit to Urgent Care, where she rejected the idea of wearing a face mask. Lucky it's not H1N1, but it's a virus that needs to work its way out.

It's been rougher. She's crabbier and not willing to have me cut her nails, or take her temperature. Not to mention, I've seen more kids programming than I care to admit. Send me some good vibes folks. Or at least some healing vibes.

Being the Center of the Universe is a tough gig.

Recently, a cold has been raging through Casa Del Navel Gazer. It hit me on Tuesday night and is now raging through our house like a wildfire. It's hit Benevolent Dictator hard and, as a result, she's been demanding more of me, which doesn't help since I've been sleeping like shit and wanting nothing more than to lay down, sleep in and maybe have someone rip my throat out and replace it with something that doesn't fill up with phlegm.

Because she hasn't been sleeping well, she's been moody. Insanely moody. Like a little insane drunk meth addict who is acting like Alexis Carrington in a really bad off-Broadway play moody. The only way to ease the pain of today (which was a lot of screaming, crying, clinging and wailing) was about three hours of TV. Starting with a Wallace and Gromit marathon and ending with Mythbusters. There was some dinner in between, which made things easier. Not to mention the fact that she decided it would be fun to ride in the car with her dad to get the food. Which allowed me a few minutes to myself.

The funny thing is that I didn't mind it when she demanded the snuggles. I remember when she was an infant how I wanted my arm free to do something or just to be free to walk around and DO SOMETHING. But now that she can move and run and doesn't like a snuggle, unless it leads to being tossed around like a sack of potatoes or held upside down, this was a rare moment. Feeling her heavy weight on me as her hands kneaded my arm brought me back to those moments when I could hold her close whenever I wanted. It was a sweet feeling to hear her breathe as she dozed and just how relaxed her body was.

However, I would like my little nutball to get better. Seeing her like this isn't fun. While the snuggling is nice, I do miss my little explorer.