I Wish I Had Cloned Myself 20 years Ago

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Wouldn’t that be great if everyone had the opportunity to clone themselves at the peak of their health, stamina, and gloriously long hair?

I’m longing for the days of 20+ years ago, when I was thinner, more in shape, and my left knee wasn’t popping like 3 different kinds of popping cereal.

I miss not having white hairs on my chin, under my chin, and in my eyebrows.

I miss being able to eat Doritos and Ho-Hos as a main diet in college, then walking it off everyday to class.

I wish it was mandatory to clone yourself, for free when you’re younger. Then you can have the opportunity later to transfer your cognizance into that body when yours starts running out of steam.

Morality, legality, ethics, and all that nonsense aside, if I could jump into my 21 year old body right now, I would in a heartbeat.

My husband wouldn’t recognize me, though, and would probably be afraid of my ginormous bangs and bushy hair.

I like to think I would take better care of THAT body and make sure I wasn’t creaky and old like I feel now at 43, but I know damn well, I’d run my second body into the ground, too. As long as there was still Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter World…


Ode to My Brother


My little brother turned 40 the other day.

That makes me 43, I hate to say.

I feel older than that, my life’s over I’m fearing.

What’s that you say? I’m losing my hearing.

I remember us as kids playing outside.

Making leaf houses and on bikes we would ride.

We played Circus Atari, killing the stick man with glee.

We’d practice stunts with him balanced on my knee.

I laughed at his Ken doll with its girl-like “down there”…

Then my Barbie dolls would suddenly be missing their hair.

We danced to 45’s on my Disco record player,

To Dolly Parton, Eagles, and even Leo Sayer.

I stretched his Plastic Man to epic proportions,

Then my Farrah Fawcett head he painted to distortion.

There was that thing with our cat, that’s too hard to tell,

But let me assure you, it was funny as hell.

He’s all grown up now, with a wife and kids – there are two,

Who thankfully never smelled his teenage tennis shoes.

Hard to believe I’ve known him 40 years,

He’s brought me laughter, bruises, jokes, and tears,

But I think he’s pretty awesome, and I wanted to say,

To my brother, Happy 40th, (Now YOU’RE OLD) birthday.


I Want a New Drug…

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While you cannot tell from my thick mane of glossy brunette-ness, my hair is coming in gray.  Not just one or two strands here or there, but a full on head of silvery sadness. Not the pretty kind either, I know this because a hairdresser told me once: “Many people can grow their gray hair in and it’s beautiful, unfortunately, you don’t have that kind of color.”

There might have been a boo-boo lip on my part from that.

Granny Lou, who is in her upper 80’s told me the other day: “Ohhh, I like your blonde highlights!” Silence. “Ohhhhhh, nevermind.”  Don’t worry Granny, I’ll be heading to your standing Saturday hair appointments with you soon enough.

One thing I noticed, is that gray hair is really strong. I did a test in my basement lab, and discovered it has the combined tensile strength of Kevlar, diamonds, and a Boron Nitride Nanotube.

Because of its massive strength, I may or may not have flossed my teeth with a strand. And if I did, hypotheoretically, it was for an extremely stubborn piece of Cupcake Popcornopolis brand popcorn wedged painfully in a molar.

Dyeing gray hair is a pain in the behind. I have home dyed for ages, and about a year ago I noticed that it just was not covering my “blonde highlights” any more.  So the Hunt began for the right color.  I’m really surprised my hair hasn’t completely fallen out yet. Luckily Mr. Who doesn’t notice if my hair is brown, black, or circus tent striped, so I can experiment willy-nilly.

I was thinking the other day, how fantastic it would be to take a hair dye pill.  Most people in my age range are familiar with the movie Soul Man with C. Thomas Howell made in the mid 80’s. Here was a lighthearted comedy about a rich boy whose father cut him off, so he took a tanning pill to darken his skin in order to get a scholarship to college.  Hilarity, of course ensues, then at the end *SPOILER ALERT*  it was revealed that he was Caucasian after all.

I want someone to invent that pill for real. But for hair color. How awesome would that be? “Let’s see, I think tomorrow I would like to be medium golden brown.” Smile in the mirror, pop the MGB pill, and wake up in the morning with the beautifully, and evenly, colored hair of my choice.

The only problem I foresee is this magic wonder pill will probably color all the hair on your body.  I definitely won’t be taking the blue pill in that scenario.

So, if any geniuses end up designing the formula for this, I want credit. You can call it CareHair (what? if my town has a Frogen Yozurt (I’m not kidding), then I can have CareHair). I also want some cash and free hair pills for life.


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Humanity Death Watch

The Future Is Funny


I Have No Filter!

Dear Crazy Kids,

(A note from Mom)

Greg Gotti

The writings of an American somebody


prattles on the pathos of parenting

Jenny Kanevsky


Pick Any Two

Because moms can do anything, but not everything.

Love Marriage Worms

and other absurdities

Storytime with John

Pull up and listen...I've got a funny one for ya...

From diapers and tutus to meetings and boardrooms

Trying to keep my sanity one blog post at a time

Perpetually Irritated

Barely Containing My Inner Indignance

Sparkly Shoes and Sweat Drops

Motherhood, Mental Health, Moving Your Body

Overthinking my teaching

The mathematics I encounter in classrooms

established 1975

stories to read while pooping


"I don't know so well what I think until I see what I say; then I have to say it again." -Flannery O'Connor

Journeys of the Fabulist

Adventures With Family. (Making it up as I go along.)

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