Blog Posts by sweatpantsmom

I have a confession to make. No, it's not about my reptile feet. I hope you're sitting down for this one.

I just tried Nutella for the first time last year. What.

Stop yelling.

For some reason, Nutella wasn't ever on the table of this Asian American growing up in South Central. Spam sandwiches, yes. Fancy spread made with hazelnuts and a 'hint of cocoa'? Not so much. I don't think I'd even heard of it until a few years ago, and even then I figured it was just some other mutant form of peanut butter. You know, peanut butter with different nuts or something like that. Hey, calm down.

So last year I finally gave in and bought a jar just to see what all the fuss was about. So that I wouldn't be left out at gatherings when the talk turned to Nutella and all it's amazing qualities. Seriously, I've seen people's eyes glaze over when they start talking about this stuff, saying things like, "If Nutella were a man I'd never say no to sex." And I'm all, "C'mon, people, it's just a hazelnut

I was in my early 20's, at a dinner party. The host, a friend of mine, used the 'N-word' in a conversation and after a couple of nervous giggles, everyone went on eating their pasta puttanesca like nothing had happened. I tried to, but couldn't and I made a feeble attempt at approaching the subject, saying something like, "About that word - it was offensive but you know that, right?" my voice shaking the entire time. I remember there were no nervous giggles after that, only a dead silence that seemed to go on forever until my friend simply responded, "I was joking," in a tone that implied I had ruined her dinner party. I still think she ruined her own party with her foul mouth and overdone penne, but I know I was in the minority.

I was in my teens, at a McDonald's with four other friends who were Asian. There we were, trying to enjoy our forty-cent Big Macs, when from the next table we heard the words "chink" and "Jap" in the louder-than-necessary conversation from four Caucasian

I know the title of this post is 'The Good, The Bad & The Ugly' but it's been really hard to find anything good about the disaster unfolding in Japan. Truth is, words seem so trivial and I don't even particularly feel like writing about the quake, or the tsunami or the nuclear crisis that's changing by the hour. And you know I don't do sentimental or sad very well - I prefer to keep those thoughts bottled up inside and express them by yelling at the cat or slamming doors like normal people do. But so many people have inquired about my relatives there, and I wanted to give everyone an update. It won't be well written, or profound, or even make sense. By the end of it, you may even say to yourself, "You know, I sure wish she had kept that bottled up inside."

Here's the good - my family members that live there are all safe. They are all in southern Japan and besides some rattled nerves appear to be fine. The bad, as you can imagine, is that any good news is being tempered by the fact

Lately whenever we're watching TV with my daughters the 12-year-old will occasionally yell out "OMIGOD BATHTUBS!" meaning she's just seen someone over the age of 23 engaging in some sort of romantic interlude. The term 'bathtubs' came about after the first time the girls saw a Cialis commercial and it was the one that ends with an older couple sitting in two side-by-side bathtubs on the beach. For some reason she found this the most disturbing thing of all, and after it was over said, "Bathtubs? What is with the BATHTUBS? That is just WRONG." I guess the part about "erections lasting over 15 hours" didn't bother her one bit.

So then 'bathtubs' became shorthand for 'Old People Getting Too Close.' It could be kissing, or hugging or even a look shared over a cup of coffee, it didn't matter - behavior like that should only occur between young people with smooth, tight skin wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie.

If my daughter even so much as saw my husband and I holding hands, she'd yell

I was at a wedding shower luncheon recently and as usual when a bunch of women are gathered, the talk turned to underarm hair. How to get rid of it, how much we hate it, who invented it - like clockwork, right after salad and right before the main course we discussed these pressing issues. Then, one of the women commented that she had once seen a picture of Julia Roberts with a bushy armpit and remarked that, "It kind of made me gag." She said this with such drama, pausing and then closing her eyes and appearing to concentrate, like people do when they're either praying or passing gas.

A few of us came to Julia's defense, using the usual "It's European" argument or "Maybe her assistant forgot to shave her" theory. (Although, I noticed that everyone was careful not to raise their arms too high from that point on.) I though this was funny, mainly because this woman had such an intense reaction to Julia's hirsute pit, like the actress had gone out of her way to cause great agony and

As a few of you know, last month I turned fifty. Notice how I spelled that out, because it's a little less painful than seeing the numbers. I hate the look of that five and especially that zero, like a mouth gaping at how old and ancient I am. Stupid fifty.

But I'm taking it really well!

To be honest, it is going better than I'd expected. My teeth haven't all fallen out and neither of my hips seem like they'll need replacing soon. Although I did find my first gray hair on the morning of my birthday (I'm not kidding - that sucker just bounced out of my head like one of those pop-up turkey timers. Like it was saying, "Hello! You're ready! FOR OLDNESS.)

For the longest time I was reluctant to put my age out into the blogosphere. Let's face it - the blogging world is a young one. I mean, when you read people's posts and they're saying things like, "My mom said phones used to have dials on them" and "OMG Miley Cyrus takes me back to my youth" - well, you know you're one of the more

Tonight, as she has for the past few weeks my 14-year-old is rehearsing for her school's production of Moulin Rouge. Soon she'll spend weekends rehearsing, seven hours a day up until the show's premiere in late February. In between she still seeks out and performs at open mic nights, singing and playing guitar. She has one singular dream, to be a pop star and as she puts it "There is no Plan B because that means you have no faith in your dreams." Cue applause and a Z-snap.

Meanwhile, the 12-year-old is preparing to begin rehearsals for her school's production of Tommy. On Tuesdays she takes a dance intensive class to learn steps for the numbers and just to hone her dancing skills for future shows. She's in love with performing and wants to be on Broadway one day, and already has her monologue ready for when she's a guest on Jimmy Fallon. You know, after she wins the Tony.

As for me, I freak out and break out in a cold sweat if I have to address a audience of more than two

Yahoo! recently released a list of their Top Searched Questions in 2010. They are:

1. How to tie a tie
2. How to lose weight
3. How to kiss
4. How to write a resume
5. What's the world's only immortal animal
6. Which city has the best tap water
7. Which natural disaster shortened earth's days
8. What is love
9. What causes lightning
10. How to boil an egg

Some of these make perfect sense. For instance, I wish more men would search for 'How to tie a tie' and maybe they wouldn't show up at formal events looking like they just got in a bar fight. Also, it would finally put an end to bolo ties, thank God. But then there's 'What's the world's only immortal animal.' What does this mean? Who was searching for this? I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

And of course, 'What is love' which is totally understandable. Everyone's looking for love on the internet. I'm wondering if Yahoo! returned "Baby don't hurt me," as the answer,