Putting The Fun Back In Funerals

Yesterday I was out all day at a funeral. It was for an 83 year old uncle who I adored. Sad, yes but he had a great life, built a construction empire and died without pain. I’ll miss him. I won’t however, miss his daughter.

As I mentioned, he built a construction empire. From this you should feel free to infer that he was loaded because he was. And he and my aunt adopted a girl when she was a baby and gave her a life filled with lots of toys and goodies. Maybe too many toys and goodies, because she is now 37 years old and I just have no idea how someone that age could behave the way she did these past two days.

In case you were wondering how to act in the most reprehensible manner possible at your parents funeral, I’ve composed a list for you. Bookmark it and pull it out when and if the time comes and you want to cause shock and awe among your family members along with a general agreement that you are obviously “on something”. I have categorized these so you can mix and match as your needs dictate.

Play Hard To Get: First, being the only child, you should definitely not fly into town when your mother calls to tell you your father died…wait at least three days to put forth the effort.

Practice Being Fashionably Late: Next, to make sure everyone knows you don’t give a shit…try showing up 45 minutes late to the viewing and leave your 80 something year old mother there alone to greet well wishers and extended family members. Also, be sure to not feed your two boys before you get there so that they can loudly beg for food and raise hell. Also, and this is a trick you should only try at the expert level, invite your BIRTH MOTHER and HER SISTER to your father’s funeral. It is also key to point out here that you must point out to everyone that the woman grieving over there may have raised you, but this woman gave birth to you and her sister is now officially your aunt. (Note: I’m all for getting in touch with birth mothers, don’t get me wrong, however, your fathers viewing just ain’t the time to roll them out to a bigger crowd who have never met them, and didn’t even know they existed, in front of your “mother” who has no relationship with them either.)

Make An Entrance: If you really want to make a big splash try this. The funeral starts at 12:30. You should definitely let your poor mother take one last look at the man she loves on the arm of someone who works at the funeral home rather than your own. Here is the key people, if you are going to be late to your own father’s funeral MAKE AN ENTRANCE so everyone knows it. You should loudly pull the doors open and march down the center aisle a full :30 minutes late and only two minutes before you are to eulogize the man who raised you. Also? It’s a nice touch if you drag your freaky boyfriend behind you if you have one. If not, rent a follower to give you the entourage effect.

Know Your Audience: Eulogy Schmoology. We all know you have better things to do than to put thought into what you might say about someone who cared for you all of your life. You should appear stoned and incoherent and say things like “he finally said the one thing I wanted to hear in our final conversation and I look forward to the next chapter of our relationship”. (Hi…he’s the dead one? In the coffin? Yes…right over there….you probably won’t be having too many conversations so this next chapter in your relationship may prove to be difficult. Just sayin’) Then, since most of your audience has gray hair, you should throw them a curve ball and recite all the lyrics to a song…BY THE GRATEFUL DEAD….because they rock like that, yo.

Emulate A Celebrity When Possible: To give off the star effect, pick the celebrity of your choice to emulate. Yesterday, my cousin chose Britney Spears. If you also would like to choose Britney what you should do is this. While waiting to get into the hearse with your grieving mother (not birth mother, the one who raised you….who is crying) you should MAKE OUT with your freaky boyfriend. Add a little pelvic grind to it for extra shock and awe. When you get to the graveside services, be sure to leave your mother sitting alone. When you realize you may need to go sit with her, be sure to stomp over to her BAREFOOT with your DIRTY FEET on display for all the world to see. Also? Be sure to walk on top of all the graves in your wake…they are dead, they don’t know any better. You should then snap and gesture wildly for your boyfriend to also march across the graves to come join you. Also, underwear are TOTALLY OPTIONAL at this event.

Party Like It’s 1999: The last thing you will want to do is to be at least two hours late to the very nice reception set up in your fathers honor to see all the relatives who traveled great distances and gave up an entire day of work just to pay respects. You should also have spent so much time smoking whatever it is you smoke, that your breath actually smells like a BIOHAZARDOUS CHEMICAL.

So there you have it, the complete list of how to behave like an ass at a funeral. Feel free to use it but print it out and save it somewhere soon because I’m only leaving this post live for a few days for fear of pissing off the family members I like.

Eighteen Is The New Four


So the newest season of The Duggars (or is this a new show? I don’t know.) premieres tonight on Discovery. Do you care? I am all for the big family, don’t get me wrong. I’m an Irish Catholic for Pete’s sake…but this? Is a little bit over the top and I’m not sure how I feel about them putting their childrens lives on TV to pay for it. I mean seriously…she suprised her existing 17 kids with the announcement of her 18th pregnancy on national TV. I’m sure I will make some people mad with this post but honestly, a little restraint and good judgement about exposing your family can go a long way folks. Have as many as you want, just do us all a favor and do it in private.

I sort of care in a “I need to see this train wreck” sort of way. This poster I found while researching for this post (yes, really!) sort of sums it all up.

Now ordinarily, I would say it’s not nice to pick on people like this. But…they have opened themselves up with this show. Like I said, have as many as you want…just don’t make your children a public spectacle at the tender age of, well…birth to pay for it all. Jim Bob is a real estate agent. Now either he is the very best real estate agent in all of Arkansas or he and Michelle are making a tidy little sum off having all these kids and having us gawk at them on TV. I’m guessing the latter.

Here are a few fun, and somewhat horrifying, Duggar family facts:

Michelle Duggar has been pregnant for 135 months of her life.

Average time between births is 18 months.

Estimated Duggar diapers thus far? 90,000 and soon to be counting.

Every member of the Duggar family with the exception of Michelle has a name that starts with J. The kids names are (take a big deep breath now…): Joshua, Jana, John-David, Jill, Jessa, Jinger, Joseph, Josiah, Joy-Anna, Jedidiah, Jerimiah, Jason, James, Justin, Jackson, Johanna and finally, Jennifer.

Discovery Channel has a Name Baby 18 poll going on. I’m becoming tired from all these J names, in the interest of brevity the top names according to the fools like me who voted are Juliette and Jacob.

They didn’t take into account the name I suggested: JustStopIt

If you care, and have not passed out from this post, you can watch a family morph into a small village tonight on the Discovery Channel. I may need a vat of wine to get through this one.

Awards Season!


So the strangest thing happened Friday night while I was leaving American Girl with my pack of 15 rock star little girls.

I walked out the door, and all these flashbulbs went off and there was all this shouting…”Hey, Stiletto Mom…over here! over here!” I was momentarily blinded and then I realized that probably those pictures that I took got out from that night that I drank all the Patron and met the sailors and then we…wait, this is just not the appropriate venue for this.

Anyway, once I remembered that I had burned the negatives from that night (weekend, whatever), I checked my blog and realized I had won two awards this week!

The first came from Tina over at Adventures of a Working Mom who gave me this on Tuesday.

My apologies to Tina for being so late in saying a very public Thank You. I started stalking Tina because every Monday she posts her weekly menu and she works full time like me. I like to look at it to remind myself I have such a long way to go. People, I have yet to see canned Spaghettios on her site once and it’s a staple in the Stiletto household. The rest of the week she has either fantastic recipes or great stories about her life. I really can’t allow The Man to read her blog though. First of all he’d be all like “Wait she works and still finds time to cook?” and then he’d go farther with, “Wait, she works and she still finds time to cook GERMAN FOOD???” I just can’t handle that kind of pressure. I’ll keep reading though, and trying out your recipes…I appreciate both the award the many great ideas I get from you during the week!

The next award came from my pal Steenky Bee. She and I seem to have developed this obsessive nature with eachother and I adore her. I’ll admit, I was the one who started all this nonsense. I saw her on another blog, clicked over….and well, it was love at first post. I just had to have her (stop it…thats not what I meant) and I just kept posting until she came to visit me in an attempt on her part to make it stop. Sometimes she embarasses herself and her husband . Also? I think her children are baby geniuses. A week or so ago, she tried to take a few days off to get caught up in the real world…all I can say is it was one of the darker periods in my life, I hope she never tries that again or I’m going to have to get on a plane and no one needs me invading their personal space. Steenky, you’ve been warned. Anybee, Jen was kind enough to share this little jem with me.

Once she gets her shit together and makes Steenky Bee tees, I will be the first to wear one and prance proudly through Times Square with it on along with a tiara and stilettos…well, and pants. Or maybe not. Wait, I’m going down the wrong path again.

I know I’m supposed to pass this on but I’m selfish and I don’t want to share. Just kidding, sorta. I am, however, on massive doses of some hideous drug designed to drain my sinuses before my face actually explodes, which could happen at any moment. The good news is, I’m walking around with a little 24 hour buzz. The bad news is I feel lucky to get an entire sentence on paper…it’s taken me the better part of two days to write this and it was an easy topic. Given that, and the very real fact I may make an ass out of myself (again) I’m going to pass this out a little later and hope the bloggy Gods don’t rain their wrath down upon me. Thanks again Tina and Jen…I adore both of you!

I Am Glam…But You Already Knew That


Ok, I’m going to share my weekend plans with you even though I know it will make yours pale in comparison.

Tonight? Magical. Fantastic. An evening to be remembered for months to come….if you are a 7 year old girl anyway. Tonight I will be hosting 12 adorable little girls to a spa night at American Girl. I know, I’m sorta glamorous that way.

Spa? For Dolls? Why, yes! And guess what? It costs an arm and a leg too. From what I hear, the dolls are each given little spa robes and slippers, get their hair done and even have little cucumber slices to soothe their tired little doll eyes. Yes, really.

I’ve only had a few experiences at American Girl. The first was last year when I thought it would be fun for Miss G and I to have a girls day at the store while we were in NYC. We had shopping planned and a luncheon with Sophie (the doll) all cued up. We got there in time for Sophie’s hair appointment. Of course she had to get into a special robe for her treatment, at which point we discovered she had a full body tattoo going on. I looked at Miss G and she said, “Wow, how did THAT get THERE?” Hmmm…no idea but those smiley faces and daisies sure do look familiar.

I should have known the excitement was going to be way too much for her and it was confirmed for me when we were mid debate as to whether or not we would be buying anything for Bitty Baby (yet another way AG takes money out of my pockets). After firmly telling her in no uncertain terms that we would NOT be buying things for Bitty, I stepped onto the escalator with her hand in mine…and then she pulled her hand out and ran back into the store, on the third floor…in downtown freaking Manhattan…OMG! I totally freaked and I was doing the running man back up the down escalator but I was weighted down with bags. Talk about freaking out…lose your kid in downtown NYC, that will put 10 years on you in a second. Finally a very grumpy employee dragged her back to the escalator and delivered her to me. I assume this kind of shenanigans happens all the time, and if it were my job? I’d be grumpy too.

The next time we made the trek to American Girl, everything was much easier. The MIL had flown into town and brought my future rock star attorney niece with her. Both girls used their best manners and shopped thoughtfully for outfits for their dolls. (Plus? The MIL was buying so I was in an even better mood!) We started with lunch which was amazingly good. Again, both girls acting their best. There are these little chairs that you can attach to the table so your doll can sit with you while you eat. Which is so cute. IF YOU ARE A CHILD. So like I said, it’s all going well, until, these two women…one in her forties the other I think was her mom…came and sat next to us and I’m all like “Oh, Hell No….”. Yep Dolls. They both had dolls. Got them little chairs and everything, smoothed their hair, set napkins in front of them. So of course I had to stare, because I have about the same mental maturity as my seven year old, and Miss G was staring too. The difference is, I can keep my voice down when I need to, and little G can’t. Later on while we were shopping, we saw these two grown women with their dolls again and Miss G asks a logical question, “Mamma, aren’t they too old for that?” Hey, it’s a fair question. I still don’t know if they heard her or not…I was too busy covering her mouth with my hand and dragging her behind some massive Kit display…where she found the $150 tree house she couldn’t live without. (She’s still living without it btw.)

So tonight, just think about me as I help all these little angels apply mud masks and cucumbers to their dolls. And try not to hate me for having such a rockin’ life.

UPDATE: I’m home and in one piece if you can believe it. Personally, I am shocked. These American Girl people? Were apparently sent from heaven because they were all, “Oh no, Mrs. Stiletto Mom..let me take care of that for you.” and “Please, sit and enjoy your salmon while I cut 15 (yep, had three extras) individual pizzas into bite size pieces.” Really…they served me salmon…I adore them. I thank alll of you for your support as I was checking to see if you felt sorry for me from my Blackberry. Plus, every single little girl was an angel. Oh, and Vodka Mom? Yeah, no alcohol which is probably a good thing bc I would have been curled up in a corner in fear from the get go nursing a scotch which would have probably been really frowned upon I think. You may have a business idea that needs to be entertained though. Have your people call my people and let’s put the pen to the paper on this baby. We’re gonna be RICH! If we don’t get arrested first anyway.

Shocking News.


Okay, so I’m a day late bringing this topic to the table but as you all know, I was all gooey (yep, said it) over Andrew McCarthy yesterday and with the kids acting up and my need and duty to report on their misbehavior to you, I’m just now getting around to addressing this. But…I think we need to talk about it.

So we all know Clay Aiken came out yesterday, right? Yawn….big shocker.

Now, I don’t know about y’all but I sort of saw this on the horizon. Call me crazy.

First there was this.

…which to me screams Barry Manillow who has not come out of the closet but whatever. (BTW?…I totally went to that concert and rocked out with my cousin and her 70 somethin’ year old mother with our glow sticks….”Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl, with yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there….at the Copa!…Copacabanna”…)

Then there was this.

Ok, I have to say here, I have semi permanent eyelash extentions (yes, I’m that vain…and? they RAWK) but I can’t get myself to look anywhere near that pretty.

So came to me as a big surprise yesterday when two people in this great nation of ours a.) cared and b.) were shocked. First, the editor of the ever on top of it People Magazine who thought this may be a headline grabber in some way. And this fan, who said this on some Clay Aiken fan page I have no idea how I found myself on last night (please don’t hold it against me…).

“This is a gut wrenching day for The ClayNation. Somebody wake me up, I hope its a dream. “ said the ClayMate.

Someone send help to the ClayNation folks, I’ll wait. How could you not see this one coming? (stop it…that’s totally not what I meant)

Two things here. First of all? Gay is okay. I’m happy the guy has embraced his lifestyle…really. And? He should have the right to marry. Now, give me a second while I hop off my political soap box. Okay…safely off. But really, these gals who thought he was fair game? Need to have their eyes checked or their gaydar adjusted. Did this chick see his baby mamma??? Just sayin’.

And now a word from the editor: Mary Anne does not actually follow Clay Aiken, Clay Nation or even Spamalot….though she’d like to see it someday. Mary Anne also insists that you do not interpret this post as a leaning towards any political party, because she really doesn’t care which way you lean. Be the champion of your own desitiny. Mary Anne would also like you to know that she adores all gay people…pretty and not…and has the friends to prove it. So back down on the comments. But you should feel free to comment on those who didn’t see it comin’. (yep, go there friends, it’s the only thing that may wake the ClayNation up.)

PS…I hate his music.

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