There are no rules in Disney about what you can and cannot say, but I'm gonna guess if there were some set of commandments -- screaming "Mickey's dead?" in a crowded line would be get you sent to some jail-land where the guards have oversized heads and the bars are soft yet, non-penetrable.
I'm sure the fact that we don't believe in you has something to do with your snubbing us year after year. Do we, a people known to produce a whiner or two, complain? No, some of us, myself included, have made an effort to believe.
Knowing nothing about lice and not having time to look up any facts, I decided that the most efficient way to tackle this plague was to do all the cleaning, washing, vacuuming and nitpicking simultaneously -- or one lousy louse could start the whole cycle again.
I'd heard horrible tales of the mammogram and it's crushing pain. I feared the impending torture and dreaded that what little my child bearing and breastfeeding had left unscathed would be permanently altered.
We still adore our men, but our alone time has little resemblance to the hot dates we once had. Wow, did we take those nights for granted! Want proof? Behold: Date Night Before Kids vs. Date Night After Kids.
The other day, my son looked at me with those same wide eyes that once asked, "Mommy, when I'm older will you marry me?" and asked, "Mom, I'm getting older, doesn't that mean I should start wearing Hollister?"
I've had some awkward V-Day Moments, from my 5-year-old trying to soap opera kiss me to my hubby trying to stuff himself and champagne into an undersized NYC bathtub in our undersized NYC apartment. I've decided this year will not be awkward.
Listen, I've given up many things since becoming a mom: perky boobs, solo trips to the restroom, an enormous amount of hair (I had no idea how much hair I would lose after pregnancies)... but the one thing I refuse to give up is being glam.
On this week's episode, I talk with the Nutrition Twins, Tammy and Lyssie Lakatos, about juicing, juice fasts, superfruit smoothies, and teas in every color of the rainbow, which are all touted to be "the next best thing."
Beware their 8 Mile lingo, t-shirts with moderately offensive sayings and fro-yo addiction. They're hoodlums alright. Well, they wear hoodies and they live in the hood, well, the suburban gated neighbor'hood.