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You know what we don’t talk about enough here on Mommy Wants Vodka (I used the Royal “we” here, Pranksters, meaning YOU)? Love songs. Mostly because the greatest love I feel is for the Hamster Dance video and bacon cheeseburgers.

But I am here to tell you that this! This is simply untrue. Your Favorite Aunt Becky DOES know how to feel love! Why, the other day, I looked at the most beautiful sunset and thought, “Mmmm. That looks like cotton candy. Now I’m hungry.”

And then, because I was listening to my iPod, a love song came on. Can you believe I own a song about love? I can’t. Nonetheless, I was stunned. The love song and the sunset nearly had me doubled over, barfing, and yet, no, I stood watching it.

So I figured, it’s time for a list of Love Songs That Don’t Suck. You can play along at home, Pranksters.

1) Behold A Lady – Andre 3000. I really have to say that I loved the song a lot more when Andre 3000 wasn’t like humping his personal trainer, but you know, the song is totally sweet. SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, I CAN LIKE SWEET SHIT.

2) Bob Dylan’s – To Ramona (as sung by Sinead Lohen). Now, I’m not 100% certain this is a love song but it is probably my favorite song ever. Even more than the theme from Facts of Life. I probably shouldn’t mention that my dad sang me to sleep with this song every night and I sing my daughter to sleep with it too, because that makes it a little less romantical, but you know, when do I lie to you, Pranksters?

3) The Pretenders – “I’ll Stand By You” (as sung by Glee Cast). Okay. So this song? My television husband, Dexter, will totally sing this to me at our made-for-television wedding. I don’t care if he can’t ACTUALLY sing because I will be to busy kissing his feet. This song? The most romantical I know.

4) The Black Keys – Everlasting Light. I may just love this song because it makes me forget my migraines for awhile, but it also makes me happy in the pants.

5) The Rolling Stones – Let It Bleed. Like I could include a list of songs WITHOUT The Stones. That would be like macaroni WITHOUT the cheese.

6) G-Love and Special Sauce – Love. Dude. It’s called LOVE. What more can you ask for?
(I’d actually considered using Booty Call instead)

7) Michael Franti & Spearhead – Say Hey (I Love You). It’s not just because I heard this song first on Weeds during a fucking FLASH MOB, but the song? It’s cheerful. Like, you’ll probably fall in love with the person next to you when you watch it. So be careful.

8 ) I forget what 8 was for.

9) Journey – Faithfully (as performed by Glee Cast). Okay. If you don’t love this song, I will punch you in the teeth.

10) Cake – Love You Madly. Only the coolest song ever. You should probably marry it.


Your turn, Pranksters. Gimmie some good love songs.

Any time you go to a blogging conference or hear about blogging or really blog ever, you hear the word, “monetize” which, I recently learned, has NOTHING to do with Monet’s paintings. I feel both shocked and saddened – like my whole life has been a joke.

(I was also recently horrified to learn that “non-stick” does not ACTUALLY mean “non-stick)(nor do Crab Cakes have CAKE in them)(what is this world COMING to?)

Anyway, I’m not so great at monetizing anything, including my blog, because I’m not very good at anything. Also: who wants to read a hastily thrown together piece about why I think dish soap rules – even if it’s true? Not me.

But thanks to my cess-pool children, I do have a cold. And having a cold sucks. Much as I’d like to sit around the house, flailing my arms and raspily yelling, “WHY GOD, WHY?” I figured that this might be An Opportunity. A GOLDEN opportunity.

Oh yes, Pranksters, I think I finally know what to do to Monetize This Cold: I can become a temporary phone sex operator.

I can see it already.

Me (deep-voiced and raspy): “Hey baby.” *hack, hack, hack*

Him: “Um, so what are you doing right now?”

Me: “Drinking a diet coke and feeling sorry for myself. You?”

Him: “I meant, what are you wearing?”

Me: “A stained tanktop and some gauchos.”

Me: “The tank top is red.”

Him: “Um.”

Me: *coughs loudly*

Him: “So, uh, what do you want to do to me?”

Me: “I don’t know. Take flying lessons?”

Him: “I meant like, do you want to get me naked?”

Me: *sneezes wetly* “EW. NO. I don’t even know you.”

Him: “Do you want me to touch your breasts?”

Me: “GROSS, you creepy old fuck!”

Him: “This isn’t working.”

Me: “You got THAT right, Buddy.”


Hm. So maybe that’s a bad idea. Guess I’ll go back to Moneting things.

I remember when my friend Pashmina got back from her honeymoon. I think I’d just popped out Crotch Parasite #2 and had the approximate dimensions of a whale. Not to mention, aforementioned Crotch Parasite was constantly chomping on my nipple and/or pooping on me, so vacation was entirely out of the question. Hell, taking a leak alone was out of the question.

Anyway, Pashmina called me and blearily I answered the phone. She cheerfully informed me about the places they’d had The Sex, the great shit they’d done, the meals they’d eaten while I silently wept onto my very cranky baby. I hadn’t eaten a meal without the kid hanging off a body part in months. And sex? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It was kinda mean of her, you know, describing all the cool shit she’d done while I sat at home and watched my television husband, Vincent D’Onofrio, quirkily solve murders.

But the swag at BlogHer is legendary, I’m sure even if you’ve never been, you’ve heard about it. Mostly from the sorts of people who get invited to private parties and shit, which, SO not me. I got a couple of mini-boxes of cereal and a fuckton of those stupid bags everyone gives out. I’m sure the maid service thanks me tremendously for leaving them behind.

This year, I got one thing – ONE thing – that may shock and impress you, Pranksters. ONE THING. And it impressed me so much that I’m STILL reminiscing about it, all Missed Connections style. Because I had to leave my ONE THING behind. Parting WAS truly sweet sorrow.

I got a fucking toothbrush.


I know you probably think I’m being all sarcastic about it, but no, I’m not. I loved that toothbrush so much that I envisioned romantic fantasies – just me and the toothbrush dining by candlelight. Me and my beloved toothbrush running along a beach, holding, er, hands. Me and my toothbrush snuggling up together – I’d even get to be the Big Spoon (for once).

Brushing my teeth was a treat. I felt like a champion, my pearly whites all sparkling and clean, ready to take on the day. I was a WINNER thanks to that toothbrush.

(we all know packing a toothbrush is kinda bullshit because it gets all musty and shit)

On Sunday, it was time to bid my beloved farewell. I couldn’t take it home with me; no, our love was too pure to continue.


Missed Connection:

You: Johnson and Johnson toothbrush, 8 inches, blue and soft.

Me: Your Aunt Becky, leaving a hotel room.

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