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I Just Don’t Have it in Me…

Friday, November 30th, 2012
By Glinda

To do another CDF 2.0 post.  I have no idea why, but I have a severe mental blockage when it comes to CDF lately, and it just doesn’t feel right anymore.  I may feel better about it after the New Year, but I don’t think I can stomach doing one until then.


Which is a real bummer, because they were fairly easy to do in one sense.

How’s about some cute famous Dad and offspring photos for the time being?

If you look closely at the kids, that last picture is to die for.

Finally, Posh and I Have Something In Common

Thursday, September 13th, 2012
By Glinda

It is comforting to know that even Posh Spice has no other ideas on what to do with toddler hair, either.

Monday Teeny Poll

Monday, April 30th, 2012
By Glinda

Two completely suprising (to me, anyway) fruits nabbed the top spots, with raspberries(!) coming in at number two and mangoes(!) coming in at number one.  Seriously, I never saw those coming.  I’ve got nothing against either one, especially in margarita form, but had no idea they were so popular in general.   Bananas came in third, and we had quite the few duking it out in a fourth place tie, including tomatoes, pears, avocadoes, and strawberries.  My personal favorite are tomatoes.  I love them in almost anything, except obviously something dessert-y.

Today I’m completely celeb-centric.

Cindy Crawford’s Mini-Me

Thursday, June 16th, 2011
By Glinda

I’ve always thought that Cindy Crawford was flat-out gorgeous, and knew that there was probably no way that she could have unattractive offspring.
But my goodness.

That is some fabulous DNA going on in this picture, is there not?

I’ve got family-picture envy. 

I often get the “oh, your daughter looks JUST like you” but it is almost scary how much Cindy’s daughter looks like her.

Cruising the Beach in Heels. Wait, What?

Wednesday, June 1st, 2011
By Glinda

I was born, raised, and still live in Southern California.  Yeah, I’m one of those people, wanna make something of it? I have never lived further than a half hour from the beach.  In high school, my friends and I practically lived at the beach during the summer.

And do you know what I’ve never seen in my life until today?

People in heels on the damn beach.

Leave it to Katie Holmes to blaze that trail.

I’ve kept my mouth shut on all the things that have kept her and Suri in the press, from midnight dinners to clutching X-rated candies.  Not a word from me. 

Let Suri take her shoes off, for the love of all that is holy.  She is at the BEACH.  It was not at all hot in Southern California this weekend, so there will be no theorizing that the sand was too hot to go shoeless.  That and all the other people in the picture have no shoes. 

One of the pleasures of going to the beach is the tactile feeling of walking on sand.  Feeling it beneath and between your toes, noting how it changes texture and temperature as you get closer to the water. 

I don’t care if they were at a party in a house prior to walking down the steps onto the beach.  That is where the parent is supposed to say, “Hey honey, let’s go walk on the beach!  Take off your shoes and let’s go!” Not “Yes, let us keep our fancy schmancy shoes on in the sand where the heels will sink in and we will get sand in our shoes, which is actually pretty uncomfortable and not much fun at all.”


Or maybe crazily rich people don’t allow their, or their children’s, feet to touch something as common as sand.

Suri Cruise and the Pacifier

Wednesday, March 9th, 2011
By Glinda

If you haven’t heard already, the internets is abuzz over the photos of Suri Cruise, aged 5, sucking on a pacifier.  Simply Google “Suri Cruise pacifier” and pages and pages of commentary will pop up.

Because it is perfectly fine for the foibles of a five year old, presumably the most fashionable one on the planet, to be subject to the judgement of the world!

Listen, anyone who has had a kid, and I wonder about some of the people doing all of the pearl-clutching and their experience with children, knows that kids have quirks.  Neither of my children had any interest in a pacifier whatsoever, so I’ve never had to wean them off of one.  But all children have their comfort objects, and as long as it isn’t hurting them, I’m not going to say anything about it.

And I sure as hell know that I am beyond glad that there aren’t a million paparazzi chasing after my daughter every second she is out in public.  Because man, I would probably be proclaimed the world’s second-worst mother, right behind this woman.

But who knows what Suri does with her pacifier?  Maybe it was a one-day deal.  Maybe she found it between the cushions of the car seat and decided to haul it out for old time’s sake.  Maybe the photographers constantly following and shouting at her and her mother stress her out and she needs a binky.  This actually distresses me just thinking about it.

Or maybe, just maybe, the all-knowing internet could just lay off a five year old that they don’t even know.

Ya think?

Because goodness knows that if anyone has the money to pay for any dental bills, it is Tom Cruise.

No, They Don’t

Wednesday, January 26th, 2011
By Glinda

The shirt.

I’m cool with everything about that outfit except the shirt.  Fake hairpieces? Go for it.  Leopard-print leggings? Fine!  A jacket with dangling chains? Sometimes you can never have too many chains!

As a ten year old, I applaud her willingness to take sartorial risks. If you can’t dress any way you want when you are ten, then what good is it to be a kid? I have so far refrained from commenting on any of her outfits because, well, she’s ten years old. And at that time, she hadn’t purposefully put herself in the spotlight other than being the daughter of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett-Smith, so I didn’t feel comfortable saying anything about her, as simply being the daughter of someone famous doesn’t make you a public figure.

But now with her burgeoning music career placing her firmly in a self-chosen career path of wanting to be famous, I feel I must say something about that shirt.

I would never allow my son to wear a shirt that said “Girls Need Training” and I think it is no less demeaning when referencing boys. I just notice that it’s often just fine to say derogatory things about boys. Nobody bats an eyelash. But turn the situation around and everyone would be in an uproar.

The fact that a bajillion tween girls are going to see the video associated with this shirt saddens me.

And Jada, I’m disappointed in you. As the mother of a son as well as a daughter, I thought you would know better.

Best and Worst Baby Names of 2010

Tuesday, December 21st, 2010
By Glinda

According to the Daily Beast, anyway…

At the top were names such as Louis Bardo, Marcello Daniel, and Cosima.  All right, I’m down with those.  But Billie Beatrice? Amadeus Benedict Edley Luis? Nelly May Lois?  I’m sorry, but I am so not feeling them.  For some reason, I don’t like when girls are named boy names. I know, I’m an old fogey and anti-feminist, but I just think that when I see a name on a piece of paper, I should know if it is a boy or girl.  Feel free to flog me publicly.  Don’t get me started on the Amadeus one, which the site praises for it’s mix of “style, ethnicities, and eras.” Do they not know people are going to follow him around on the playground singing the refrain to a rather bad but unforgettable 80’s pop song? And Nelly May Lois sounds like someone who spends most of her time being mean to people at a bingo parlor.

At the bottom were gems like  Buddy Bear Maurice, Sundance Thomas, and Draco.  Jamie Oliver (who is currently winning his CDF round) is perpetrator of the Ursa major, and Draco comes courtesy of one former Ms. Winnie Cooper.  I’m not totally up in arms about Draco, though.  At least it’s a literary name, not one that’s made up.  They also slammed Vera Farmiga about her choice of name, which was an ethnic Lithuanian one.  I’m not cool with making fun of names from other cultures, so I take issue with that one.

It’s a hectic week my friends, so posting this week? Totally on the light and fluffy side… Hope you don’t mind.

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