Tickle Me Elbow

Just when you think the Elmo craze is over...Fisher-Price has unleashed yet another version of the giggling wiggling toy to turn well behaved mature adults into punching biting elbowing parents at the toy store to get this toy for their little high strung offspring.

A co-worker went to Toys R Us this morning and got one of the first of these new Elmo dolls. She doesn't have kids, she just loves Elmo. I can relate because I have an unhealthy addiction myself to Disney stuff. She brought it into the office and I have to admit...it's REALLY cute. I went a little nuts over it.

Here's the thing I don't get for those of you who have kids. Kids would be tired of it within a couple days and the constant "hahahaha, that tickles" would be enough to drive parents mad. Seriously, don't these parents think about the long term effects this dol will have on their household? Why would you get a doll that talks, wiggles and does all this flipping around on the floor? Think about it. The kid is going to set this thing off all the time until their attention span is depleted or they see something else on TV they want and will point and grunt at it. (this motion will send a parent into the frenzy stated above to get their child the coveted toy)

There is nothing more unnerving than having a doll start talking to you randomly when you walk by. And it would be even WORSE when the damn thing started running out of batteries and the voice is all creepy, low and slow.

"Elmo is possessed, honey. I think it's time to 'put it down'."

I used to hide my Cabbage Patch Doll under the bed because I was afraid of it. Can you imagine having an Elmo doll start talking and wiggling on its own and you are alone in the house? Obviously I've seen too many horror movies.

As if Elmo is going to go on a bender and come after me with a knife when the kids are asleep. "Play with me"

YAZzle Dazzle

I'll tell you the No 1 thing I hate right now is that stupid YAZ commercial. I would never ask my OB/GYN for this product because the commercial bugs the hell outta me. And who's genius idea was it to name a birth control pill after an 80's band? Mike and I dive for the remote when this comes on.

It starts out with these three harpies chillin' at a pretty swank looking outdoor nightclub. There's nothing sexy about these women, so the illusion that they are cool and hip is immediately squashed. They aren't even holding drinks. Total squares. You will never see me at a club without an ultra cool drink in my hand.

Now, that's not fair, I don't know these women. Maybe they ARE sexy, but as soon as they open their mouths...it's over. The cherub faced blonde with too much lip gloss who doesn't look a day out of high school starts talking about 'So, have you heard about this Yaz?'

Who the hell starts talking about birth control at a club? Are your friends that boring that you have to break this little gem of an ice breaker out? You are more interested in talking to your friends about birth control than trying to scour the club for a hot guy? What? Is it slim pickins at the bar and you have to goad your friend into yapping about talking to your doctor if you have adrenal gland problems before you take YAZ? (Which if you watch the commercial, you don't really see her regurgitate the information, just the back of her head bobbing like she's rattling off this information.)

The days of the fast disclaimer at the end of the commercial are over (you know, "may cause heart attack, anal leakage and erectile dysfunction") . You now have to hear it from some chick who 'didn't go to medical school for nothing'. Ok, we get it...you're a doctor. So does that mean you are picking up the tab, Money Bags? Then she keeps GOING...'seriously, talk to your doctor.' As the friends look knowingly at each other and nod.

You KNOW that other chick is staring at the blonde going, "You started this, b!tch".

"Wow, you really know your stuff"

"Well, the guy holding the cue cards is REALLY helpful..."

Blame it on the boobs

So there's a lot of things going on here. I'm going to start with the wearing white after Labor Day rule. I originally thought that you couldn't wear white after the aforementioned holiday. My reluctance to wear such color is not so much that people would snicker and point in my direction and say "Doesn't she KNOW?!?!"

My reason is so that I don't get bitch slapped by the queen of fashion, Fe, for committing one of her fashion Faux Pas. This being said I have two dilemmas.

One, I've gained some weight. There, I said it. White is not the most flattering color on a grande booty. Just to be fair (to me and my ego)...I am not a whale by any means. I weigh a whopping 115 soaking wet...I think. I can still boast about being able to fit into my 7 for All Mankind jeans (size 25) and not look like overstuffed sausage in a denim tube. Unless I run them thru the dryer. Different story...We'll chat about it another time.

The reason for the weight gain is a number of things. The obvious...I'm getting older and my metabolism is slowing down. Good logical reason, but I refuse to accept it. My dad is still skinny at 50. My genetic makeup is more bizarre than Spiderman's.

Another reason is PMS. I'm puffy this week. I'm taking water pills to help dispatch the water from my body. But, what the hell? It makes me thirsty. How do I lose water if I'm constantly quenching my insatiable thirst. I don't get it. A friend suggested laxatives. They are too unpredictable. Gotta be careful with those. I don't want to be shopping for something white only to have it kick in when I'm in the dressing room. (Does anyone have any toilet paper?)

The third reason I'm leaning towards with the weight gain mystery is my boobs. We all have them. I got mine installed 9 months ago. A lot of people say that most women subconsciously gain weight after installing fun bags to compensate for the extra volume added to the body. All weight gain is subconscious though isn't it ladies? I know I added an extra 2 pounds to my weight, one on each side of my chest...But where did the other 10 pounds come from?

The second dilemma I have about wearing white is that last night I tried on a number of outfits to decide what to wear to the Grand Finale White Party this Saturday. My conclusion. I'm not happy with what I have, but I'm not going shopping like this (PMS), in this condition (gained weight for one of the three reasons above).

Bottom line, I'm feeling a little thick, I have a huge party to go to this weekend, and I have to wear all white.

Clear the door...The whale is coming thru. Keep me away from the buffet. I just might hurt mahself...or someone else.

All in all, I will just blame to boobs for the extra pounds and keep snacking away on my Twizzlers and Coke.

Crikey!

Maybe it's the PMS, or the loss of a legend, but rest in peace Steve Irwin.