ok, who let kelly osbourne sing? ozzy should have his head bit off by a bat for letting her cover madonna. there is something surreal about kelly osbourne crooning “papa don't preach,” as if her father would be even think about screaming moralistic anti-abortion slogans at her. she gets two points for having multi-colored '80s hair, but beyond that, it is like watching teeny-boppers' stupid home videos. why, oh why did i click on it???

of course, the best part about it all is her quote:

“I didn't choose the song. My mom did and asked me to do it. I'm kind of crapping myself because I don't think I'm a very good singer.” Kelly Osbourne

another wily sharon osbourne production.

my beloved three-year-old (“three and a HALF, mommy!”) is happily taking her entirely new playdough set and mashing all the colors (i think there are 8) into one giant doughball. but this may be joy in the making, so i will just sit out and shut my mouth. i have been a bee-atch from hades today, so i will just step aside. besides, BC only wants her daddy today, and since it is father's day, i will graciously defer. its father's day, and i am glad that she has her father and i have mine.

we went to glen echo park today to see a little puppet show. the three little pigs and red riding hood — from the wolf's perspective. it was really lovely except for all of the shifting and squirming — and that was the sound of the adults in the group. grownups over the age of 20 are not meant to sit on the floor for an hour. legs cramp, backs go – maybe we all need to do more yoga. little ones were pretty well behaved, although there were those really young ones who shrieked in terror when the big bad wolf came out and howled. but who could be mad at them?

there is an oooooold carousel at the park. reminded me of the carousel i used to ride as a child on the jersey shore. boo hoo. how on earth did i get so freakin' old so fast? especially since i don't feel old. people talk about grownups and i forget that they mean me.

not to mention the fact that i would have been 6 months along now in my pregnancy. had i not lost the baby, of course. i hate that expression. as if i would ever let a child of mine go missing. i would never let a child of mine disappear. you should see how i track my BC when she plays on a playground. i never let her out of my sight. nope, i will never lose her as long as i have any control over anything. and i will never let this other child i no longer have ever vanish from my mind. but everywhere i go, people have just had babies or are pregnant. i am happy for them, to be sure, but i am still grieving a bit. like i have said before, i do okay 99 percent of the time. but i think i am currently engaged in that tricky one percent, that wallowing place that no one can seem to understand.

i'm sure i'll snap out of it shortly. tomorrow is another day and all those clichees to note. harrumph.

i'm just a “blue boo” today, as my mom would say.

i just found out that my friend's mom has died. simone and i have been friends since we were teenagers, and “D” as we called her mom definitely played a role in my life. D was amazingly outspoken. in fact, whether you wanted to hear about something or not, D would let loose on whatever was wrong with the world, with somebody, or you. i remember being on the receiving end of one of these tirades when simone and i had what i think was the only fight we have ever had in over 20 years of friendship. i don't even remember what we were fighting about, but we didn't speak for awhile. i called up her house to see if we could make peace, and her mom answered the phone and LET ME HAVE IT. and i mean, don't hold back, ma'am, tell me what you REALLY think.

i admired her for her outspokenness, her courage, and her generosity. underneath that tough chick was a loyal lady who dearly loved her family and friends. she battled breast cancer for a long time. i think she was trying to live long enough to see her future granddaughter, who is due in august.

i am sure her spirit is going to be in that child.

i'm really, really annoyed. is it because the news reported that some asshole planned to set off a dirty bomb here in washington? no. is it because i am terrified that india and pakistan are going to blow each other to smithereens? no. is it because israel and palestinians keep going at it in a harsh, bloody way? nope.

it is because of the corrs.

i took a mild power nap this afternoon and fell asleep with the TV on. when i awoke, i saw some sliver of a chick inviting Ron Wood — yes, THE Ron Wood — up on the stage to join her, her sisters, and her brother. The Corrs Live In Dublin, i think it is. anyway… this chick then launches into “Little Wing.”

lemme 'splain something here. “Little Wing” is BS and my wedding song. We had our first dance to it at our wedding — the Sting version only because, well, it was a wedding. But I adore the original Hendrix version; I enjoy the Stevie Ray Vaughn cover; and there is even a wonderful Clapton tribute which my friend Leifer thought was the original “Little Wing” until I set him straight 😉 Sting's version is clever insofar as he has taken the standard and jazzed it up. it works, i s'pose, because it's Stingerino.

but this corrs chick? she sang the Sting version of it. she brought nothing original to it except for that little irish recorder thingy she played along with her sister on violin. and, to make matters insulting, she had Woodie play a teensy-weensy solo in the song. This is a song that has a soaring, and i mean SOARING guitar opportunity in it. and everyone — even Sting — has taken advantage of that wonderful solo.

but not poor Woody. i think they drugged him up or read him a riot act: please keep your guitar playing sanitized, please. either that, or maybe he is sleeping with everyone in the band (including the brother.) i saw that after this song, they covered “ruby tuesday.” i couldn't bear the muzak-ification of the song, not to mention the probable muzzling of Woody.

i turned it off.

what a nightmare.

we have neighbors down the street who have two kids, one BC's age and one about 3 years older. nice kids. the dad coaches T-Ball and is always out and about playing with the kids, and BC really likes him. the mom is nice, too. last year, they started remodelling their house. luckily for them, the house across the street from them was for short-term rent, so they moved there for a little while as their house was renovated.

the renovation finished about two months ago. the other day, i said to BS, “gee, isn't it odd. the husband's car is still in the driveway of the rental.”

BS said: “maybe they want the house to look occupied.”

i said, “uhm, do you think something is not right there? like maybe some marital difficulties?”

BS just looked at me like my imagination was working time and a half.

well. today, the wife called me to pick my brain (or the reasonable facsimile thereof) regarding child care. she is applying for a new job, a full time one. in the course of the conversation, we discussed the renovation-from-hell still going on across the street from me (yes, it STILL is underway), the german shepherd that belongs to the people who speak only japanese next door to her (they let the dog out at 11:30 pm and he barks all night under the woman's window) and other things. like, uh, oh yeah. she and her husband separated last november and will be divorced come this november. he has been living in the rental house while she and the kids moved back into the house. minor detail, of course.

i called up BS immediately. “guess what?” i said. “they are separated. i was right.”

of course, these are the bits and pieces of life that you really, really don't want to be right about.

p.s. i asked BS, “should we be getting divorced this week? it is the neighborhood trend.”

he answered, “nope. no more houses on our street are available for rental.” that's my guy 😉

How Compatible are You with me?

with thanks to scally for this touching, singing moment from our friends in the far east.

if anyone out there knows japanese, please let us know what the hell this is all about.

kitty-cat-san

BC picked up a bra. i said, “honey, you know what that is called, right?”

she said, “yes, mama. it is called barf.”

EWWWWWW!

but she can sure cut a rug! go, lizzy, go!