a message from parma

No not Parma Ohio, Parma Italia stupid.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005


Yes its been 12 days since my last post but I have had zero energy to do anything! Its 150 degrees in NYC and 200 percent humidity. Just my commute from Brooklyn to downtown Manhattan wears me out. Its also put me into a horrid state of mind. I miss my usual positive upbeat prozac self. What a difference 40 mg of medication make.

The best advice in preparing for the new edition to my situation has been--don't buy too much stuff, find good used stuff online and just wait and see what you will need. Buy the bare minimun especially when one has no storage space and is confined to New York City living space.

No mom I am not buying a changing table. I am convinced that a small dresser with a changing pad on top is fine. Although I have been threatening to just stick the the kid in a cardbord box recycled from my
Fresh Direct deliveries, I guess someone else had the same idea:

This Cardboard Cradle Will Rock Your Crunchy World.

With this pregnancy I have discovered the evils of baby marketing. Now that women are having babies later in life when they are settled in careers and can spend more money than ever on crap that is useless, companies and advice web site come out like parriahs demanding a mother to spend and spend. The best advice I have received has been don't buy too much, you won't need as much as you think you do, buy used stuff the kid will only outgrow it, go online everyone is trying to get rid of all the crap they got at the many baby showers people have thrown for them. On several occasions I have waltzed into "Babies R Us", Target, and even Cookies (a Brooklyn legend) only to experience a panic attack and had to leave.

I realized for my own sanity that this is not good for my health. Neither is reading everything online or watching the Discovery Health Channel. If I watch another episode of "Babies:Special Deliveries" I think I will totally lose it. All I know is that I want a lot of drugs, and Z by my side. Hopefully, I will get at least one of the two.

This pregnancy has been a truly enlightening experience. I have questioned the need for a baby wipes warmer, bottle warner, diaper genie, many stages of strollers, interchangeable high chairs, and everything else these evil baby companies get the consumer to buy. I am sure back in the day our foremothers wiped their babies asses with rags, newspapers or even leaves and everything turned out well. And for those who are now in therapy because their asses were wiped with cold baby wipes, fuck you!!! get over it.

I am sure one day my kid will demand $100 haircuts, diesel jeans, $300 shoes, a navel piercing or whatever and hopefully either I or her father will somehow reach a compromise and we will all live happily ever after. Probably in complete poverty, on welfare, eating with foodstamps but watching a jazzy flat screen tv, a pimped out ride, and plenty of bling bling like my crackwhore neighbor living in the hell we call Judge St. (hopefully not) until later......

Thursday, July 07, 2005

keeping that sense of humor...

Thank you daddytypes.com for the funny warning of how to raise a girl in NYC.

An admittedly incomplete list of skills New York City girls need to learn and by what age:
hail a cab: 3
swipe a metrocard: 10
duck under the subway turnstile: 2
duck when there are five people in a taxi: 5
laugh derisively in the faces of the emotionally stunted, pathetic loser 25-year-old I-bankers who try to date them: 13
laugh derisively in the faces of the skeevy perv 35-50-year-old I-bankers and Euros who try to party with them: 13

"Man-Hunting With the High-School Dream Girls" [nymag.com, via JJ]