Archive for November 2012

Barnum and Bailey, the Weirdest Show on Earth

Ohhhh, I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I can barely contain myself! This is what I said on the way to the circus. Then we got there, and I have just three words for you. WHAT-THE-FUCK? Damn it, I said I wasn’t going to cuss as much in this blog but here I go already.... Read more »

I heart my little booger

People always talk about the unconditional love our kids give us, but do you know what I think is even more amazing? The unconditional love we have for them. They poop, stink, bark (that’s a typo but I’m going to leave it because it’s true), barf, shit all over us, figuratively and literally, and they’re... Read more »

What NOT to F'ing buy my kids this holiday

Dear Grammy, Grampy, Nana and Pop Pop, Ahhh, yes, here we go again. The most wonderful time of the year. For you. For me it’s more like let’s see how much more crap I can fit in my house until TLC comes knocking at my door because they think I’m an F’ing hoarder. I know... Read more »
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Sofia the First meets Cinderella and some shit goes down

Sofia the First meets Cinderella and some shit goes down
“Sofia the First. Sofia the First. Is it Sunday yet? Is it 6 yet? Is it on yet? I wanna watch Sofia the First,” my daughter’s high-pitched voice begged all F’ing week. It was enough to make me want to chop off my ears and gauge out my eyes so I wouldn’t even have to... Read more »

Jeans: I own like a million pairs, but I wear the same F'ing ones every day

Holy crap. Do you see the shit load of jeans I own? F'ing ridiculous.
Jeans shopping SUCKS. I bring like 4 million pairs into the fitting room, and want to slit my wrists as I cram/stuff/shoehorn my thighs into each pair. And then when I finally get them on, the fluorescent lighting makes me look like ass and the mirror adds ten pounds. To each butt cheek. So when... Read more »

Aggggghhh, I ate cauliflower! Must cut off tongue now!

ZOEY: What do I have to do to get dessert? ME: Eat your peas. ZOEY: But not this one. ME: What’s wrong with it? ZOEY: It’s in half. ME: Fine, but all the others. ZOEY: Can you make them into a rainbow? ME WITH BUTTERY FINGERS NOW: There you go. ZOEY: Now can you roll... Read more »
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Mommy Cliques—it’s junior high all over again times like a billion

Mommy Cliques—it’s junior high all over again times like a billion
Here’s the thing. My daughter is taking this theater class that she absolutely loves. She sings, she dances, she mimes (with the understanding that if she ever does that at home I’ll beat the crap out of her), she cavorts, whatever that is. But while she’s doing all this, I’m doing the complete opposite. I’m... Read more »

General Petraeus Pokes His Machine Gun in Slut Bag’s Vajayjay and Gets Busted

Last night when I had insomnia I was reading the New York Times (I know this might make me sound intelligent but it shouldn’t. I would much rather read People or Us or the instructions on my shampoo bottle, but the New York Times bores the crap out of me and puts me back to... Read more »

Ten reasons why I could never run for president (besides the short, hairy factor)

If I were running today, I’d be so nervous right now I’d be stuffing my face with whatever I could find in the kitchen, like a bottle of bacon bits or something. I only own two pair of pants that fit me, and they’re the same pair, and they’re jeans, and they’re from Tarjay. And... Read more »
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My kid could become a, gulp, Republican one day

Before I became a parent, never did I think I’d say some of the things I say on a daily basis. Like this morning I was standing at the changing table when I uttered these words to my daughter. “No, you cannot look inside your brother’s tush with your flashlight.” I mean, seriously? And the... Read more »
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    Karen Alpert

    Karen is the ridiculously hairy, self-deprecating writer of the blog Baby Sideburns. She has spent the past fifteen years working for national advertising agencies until she was promoted to her newest favorite job— Mommy. She lives with her two amazing kiddos and a very forgiving husband who is kind enough not to call her Cousin It when she undresses for bed every night.

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