I'm with the band....

For those of you who don't know this is Fabrizio Moretti. I just call him Fab, for various reason I'm sure you can't figure out. He is the drummer for The Strokes. And I adore him. Sometimes I refer to him as my "boyfriend."
I also refer to Eduardo Verástegui, Charlie Hunnam, Marcus Mumford, Naveen Andrews and Henry Ian Cusick with the coveted title. (Even my husband has been known to refer to a guy as my boyfriend! Such a good sport that one.) You should know that the title of Pretend Husband lies solely with the beautiful Jeffery Dean Morgan. Or Jeff if you're me, the Pretend Mrs. Morgan.... talk about a coveted title. I digress because clearly you get the point and now I really want to go watch Grey's Anatomy reruns.

There is a point: I told you guys about my "boss" on free night. He just turned 21 and he is so precious. I imagine one of my boys wearing their hair shaggy like him and what is with these boys and the tight pants? It's like he's wearing leggings, but he's so nice that as a mom I don't care. And he likes really good music. Like good music. And he blasts it in the back room and we all act like we don't see the other dancing. A couple weeks ago we were jamming to The Strokes and I made a comment about Fab my boyfriend.

Fast forward to last night:
"I told my best friend you dated one of The Strokes. He thinks you're the most awesome person in the world now. They're his favorite band. He wanted me to ask which guy it was."
You can imagine my face right about now. I waited for two beats.
"You know I was joking right?"
"No!"
I am an idiot. Note to self: Not everyone gets the sense of humor. Or your affinity for celebrity men.
"If I'd actually dated Fabrizio Moretti I wouldn't work here... I'd just be off somewhere being awesome!" He and I both had a good laugh about it. And when I stopped being mortified I realized something. He thought I dated......

this???????????????

I take it back... I take it all back...

I want my hair back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I tried loving it. I even tried liking it. Now I'm trying to hate it less. It sounds silly to say I worked my ass off to grow my hair out because in reality I did nothing but wait.... and wait... and wait... for two years but it was finally at the point that when I looked in the mirror I got to think, "YEAH! It's the perfect length!" And then my hormones had to get all crazy because having a baby wreck you physically and emotionally isnt enough he also has to cause you to lose your hair like George Costanza. No. Really. Good thing I'm head over heels for my littlest guy. My nickname was "Wookie" for the three months it took B to convince me that it was "time." Don't worry I've been guilt tripping him as often as I can manage without pissing him off. The real turning point for B was when one of my long and luscious hairs got wrapped around three of the baby's toes. Now I'm a bitch but I would never want anything to happen to my child because of my hair. So I cut it. Wait- more like chopped it. The good news is that Baby has all of his toes intact, there is not more cursing when B showers after me and I dont have to spend half hour blow drying all of that hair that I busted my ass growing. I do however have to spend thirty minutes with a hot iron trying to tame my "wash n'go" style..... or I just walk around lookin a hot mess. hmm.... I wonder which usually happens. In an even more entertaining note I found myself saying to B "Instead of waiting another year, let's just hurry up and have our third (and planned to be final!) baby so I can grow my hair out." To which he said, "I'm going to go ahead and pretend you didn't just suggest we have a baby so you can grow out your hair." Ugh...

I'm alive!

Hi. I'm still here. Yippee for you right? Seriously though I have been busy. But I don't know what I've been doing. Hmm. The life of a housewife (stop giggling). So there are two things on my mind... drum roll please....

1) Hubby turns 30 tomorrow err.... right now. I know- he's ancient. He hasn't so much as glanced this thing yet (remember, 'you should write a blog, it would be hilarious!'?) anyway, he's not seeing it so I can tell my two readers that my husband is old. Like dirt. I don't really care, I'm so looking forward to the big 3-0! I have always felt that your 30's 40's and 50's are when you really live life. Your career (hehe) takes off, your family life really begins, and you realize that you're the only one who doesn't like your hair- or even notices your hair really. You're you so just live with it. B on the other hand is all "why do you insist on saying that number?!" Because that's all it is, a number! I make the dirt joke for one reason- when I met B he was 21. That math makes me feel old as dirt! Last week he said "How did we know all those years ago that we'd still like being together? We're still best friends, we still have fun. How did we know?" B is not a sensitive guy, that was a big statement for him but he's right we're still having fun. Its just that now sometimes that fun involves me laughing at him for asking for the fourth day in a row, "Am I losing my hair?" :-)

2) This isn't even a 'sidebar' conversation so bare with me... I hate my living room. As in it makes my skin crawl. Which is unfortunate since it's kind of my office these days. I keep telling B it would be different if he would let me buy new furniture, then I get the side eye and keep online shopping in silence and disgust. The truth is we're able to live comfortably on one income but in this house 'comfortable' doesn't involve $7000 French sofas.... what's that saying about champagne taste and beer budget... yeah you guessed it I'm beer... I'm freakin Natty Light with a horrendous living room. I am also not a moron. (Stop acting so surprised you guys.) I don't believe in financing that crap, especially with two kids and a perfectly good working if not good looking couch.