Gotta Get Back in Time

I was so relieved when I realized my flux capacitor had not taken matters into its own hands, blasting me back to 1978:

Instead, it turns out, even in 2010, you can still find a woman in curlers at Meijer. It's nice to know some things never change.

Will.I.Am ... Charmed, I'm Sure

Last night was a memorable evening for a couple of reasons:

1. I took my 12-year-old son to his first concert, that being the Black Eyed Peas, and not only did he get an amazing show, sitting suite style (his snobby preference), he also got to see a surprise performance by Kid Rock. For a first show, it set the bar really, really high. I also am currently rated Coolest Mom. Ever.

2. After the concert, I drove my son home so he could get to bed, then went back out to the Black Eyed Peas after party at Clutch Cargo in Pontiac. (Really thought about getting into the ol' jammies and calling it a night, but the Peas were supposed to turn out for this party, so I convinced myself to take advantage of it.) Well, they turned out, minus Fergie. The Dude Peas were beyond awesome, with Apl.de.ap being a tad on the shy side, Taboo being quite friendly, and Will.I.Am being a total charmer. I finally left the party at 1:30 a.m., and knew I was going to pay for it in the morning (I was up at 7:30 a.m. Ouch.) but it was totally worth it:

I would like to state for the record that I have this stupid look on my face because Will.I.Am was dishing out some flirty teasing, and apparently, I eat that shit up. Otherwise, I try to be photographed with some semblance of control:
See? I am the epitome of cool when you barely speak to me.

Fashion Brainwashing Our Youth

I'm a little concerned how well my 2-year-old son can rock a pair of Burberry sunglasses:

I couldn't do that until I was four and a half.

Little Mouth, Big Embarrassment

It came as quite the shock when the dentist announced, "You have a small mouth." Of all the words I thought I would hear in my life, these were the least expected. My reply? "My mother will have one hell of a laugh over that revelation."

Apparently my mouth is so small, an adult-size toothbrush is too large to reach the back of my teeth, hence the cavities, crowns, etc. that have a home back there. And so I was given a directive to start brushing with a children's toothbrush.

Have you shopped recently for a kid-size chomper cleaner? They only exist in bright color combinations covered with Disney or Nick Jr. characters. I remember as a child the highlight of toothbrush shopping being picking a color from about five options. Now it's impossible to find a tiny toothbrush that isn't ridiculously childlike.

And so now I brush my teeth with the help of Dora and Diego:

Thank goodness I don't have any slumber parties on the calendar because this is not the easiest thing to explain away and not have people wondering just how desperate I am to revisit my youth.

The Ups and Downs (and Doodie) of New Neighborhoods

Moving to a brand-new neighborhood managed by an association was intended. While some may say "I'm not paying all that money for a house just to have someone else tell me what I can and can't do with it", after living across the street from a couple who partied on their boat by parking it in front of their house and drinking beer on it all day, and living next door to a couple who decorated their front yard in Scooby Doo (I can't make this stuff up), I happily applaud neighborhood rules.

We are, however, still under construction around here, and that means putting up with some things that rather remind me of those old neighbors, including waking up in the morning to the dude who sucks all the junk from the pink porta-potty positioned in front of my house:

I could do the crappy photo/crappy job/crappy contents joke here, but I'm going to spare you all such obvious humor. (But I still kind of slipped it in there, for those of you not yet through your morning coffee quota.)

At least there's no homage to Scrappy Doo plastered on the exterior of the porta-potty. I've got that going for me.