There was a time in my life when I’d be mistaken for Nicole Kidman.

This was clearly when it was the mid-90s, I was near-anorexic, and dating Tom Cruise. Nicole hadn’t yet started on her Botox addiction and no one knew she was Australian.

It’s kind of obvious once you see it. The bone structure, the mushroom-shaped hair, the translucent skin; we were like twinsies.

Cut to 20 years later, a few kids, more than a few pounds, some black-framed glasses, and a super-weird Who Do I Look Like internet toy that I learned about from Ali Martell on Yummy Mummy Club, and you get my new doppelgänger.

Eddie Murphy

Watch as I morph into my doppelgänger. It’s not creepy at all.

MyHeritage: Celebrity Morph – Family reunion – Geneology

This is a highly accurate tool because one of Ali’s doppelgängers is George HW Bush.

OBVIOUSLY.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2012. | Permalink | 15 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: ali martell, celebrity look alike, doppleganger, george bush, myheritage, nicole kidman

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Part of Anna’s 2nd grade homework is to go to this website and choose whose biography she’d like to study.

It’s so nice of the website authors to segregate the “Women Who Made a Difference” into a small section so I don’t have to think very hard in finding a woman for Anna to study.

You know, because Amelia Earhart wasn’t an “Explorer” and Florence Nightingale wasn’t a “Scientist.”

They were just “Women.”

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2012. | Permalink | 6 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: biography, historical figures, woman, women

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credit Chester Zoo

In the part of the contract babies sign when they take us on as parents, I’d like to add in the caveat that we, as their parents, may pick, poke, and squeeze anything we find on their bodies.

It’s nature.

I’ve done the Baby Lawyers a favor and outlined some rights as parents and/or guardians I’d like included in the contract.

••-••-••-••-••-••-••-••-••-••

I, your >insert parental role here<, have free reign over the maintenance of your body.

• I will remove eye boogers from your eye corners.
• I will stick my pinky finger in your ear to get out the ear wax.
• I will scratch your back, and as is my right, pop any zit I find.
• I will forever brush away the hair from your face.
• I will use my fingernail to pick the food from your teeth and conversely check your teeth for post-brushing completeness.
• I will hold up a tissue to your nose, hold closed one of your nostrils, and tell you to blow.
• I will search for nits in your hair when I get the school letter that lice was found in your classroom.
• I will use the sneak-attack to pick a booger from your nose.

Included, but not limited to, the above listed maintenances, if a foreign body or naturally made substance is attached to your body, it is my right as your >insert parental role here< to enjoy picking it off.

••-••-••-••-••-••-••-••-••-••

*Insert “mother who bore your giant baby body through my lady canal and am raising it to be a productive member of society” as my parental role.

What am I missing from this list? Before I send it off to the Baby Lawyers, I need to make sure everything is spelled out as succinctly as possible. What more needs to be added?

credit Spencer Wright

credit Annie Mole

credit Adam Jones

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2012. | Permalink | 5 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: animal photos, baby lawyers, monkey grooming, monkey grooming bird, parental contract, pick kids nose, primate grooming, tamir

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I’ve never had a hero; someone to look up to, to model my life after, to blame for all of my short-comings.

Sure I can say, “My mom is my hero,” like many people say. I already blame her for all of my short-comings. But s etting my sights so high that I think I can attain the housewifeliness and grandmothering bar she’s set is foolish, so I’m not naming my mom as my hero.

Hillary Clinton would make a fine hero for any person thinking of politics, but I don’t hate my life enough to go into public service. Of course there’s Oprah after whom to model my life, but I don’t have someone to change my sheets every day, and without that luxury, there’s no way of attaining that level of success. I considered putting Britney Spears up on my Hero Pedestal seeing as we both have 2 small children, a rockin’ bod, and a sub-par singing voice, but I’ve never attacked a car with an umbrella, so she’s out.

So instead of finding my own hero, I feel my services as a productive member of society are best utilized as being someone else’s hero.

I’m offering up ME to be your hero. I’ve compiled ways in which you, too, can succeed at life. These tips and tricks are my cheat sheet to being Awesome. Friends, you are welcome.

Two Pairs of Underwear
Much like when you find fabric softener sheets in the sleeve of a clean shirt, I find yesterday’s dirty underwear in the leg of last night’s pajama pants, nay house pants, I’m still wearing. Those dirty underwear may have been in my pajama house pants for the last two hours, but at least I can say I changed my underwear. It’s how I keep myself grounded and “normal.”

Bigger Purse, More Stuff
Find the biggest, cheapest purse you can buy and promise yourself you will keep it organized. After exactly 1 week, remind yourself that no one is perfect, and stuff that bag with every receipt, flyer, and snack bags. Tell yourself that you’ll clean out your purse when you get home. If you want to be like me, clean it out 6 months later when you make your next big purse find.

80s Rock Star
It’s important that you learn the lyrics to your favorite 80s rock song. My song of choice is Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard. When that song starts blaring out of my car speakers, the volume goes up and my voice comes out. It’s impressive to my lucky friends riding shotgun to listen to my song stylings as I sing every note at my top volume.

Eating For Two
Going out to eat at a restaurant is a treat, so I like to treat myself twice. I order my dinner meal based on how it will reheat for lunch the next day. Is it big enough for tonight and tomorrow? Will I be able to stop myself from eating when I’m 1/2-way through? If I can answer YES to those questions, serve it up! Most time, however, I can’t stop eating when I’m 1/2-way through my dinner, so I stuff my face full of tomorrow’s lunch, too. It’s part of how I keep my girlish always-pregnant body.

What else is there I can tell you about my life to encourage you to make me your hero? I’d like to have more than just my own self-satisfying purpose. I need you to use me as your living example.

I’m sharing my awesome with Momma Made It Look Easy and you can, too.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2012. | Permalink | 11 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: hero

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I so love seeing that other people are having babies.

The pictures, the excitement, the squishy newborn cuddles are all things I love to see and read about, but I never want to personally experience them again. Ever. Never. The dark side of birthing and baby rearing is what keeps me from having another baby. Plus the vasectomy Patrick had 3 weeks after Claire was born. That snip better hold or that urologist will have a gorgeous Lynchipoo baby to raise.

I have my two cuter-than-yours girls whom I gave birth to 18 months apart from one another. We planned to have our two, and only two, kids close together, but Patrick’s version of “close together” was 3 years apart and my version of “close together” was 2 years. Of course, after having Anna, we settled on deciding to have our 2nd born 2 years after her, because naturally, I became the Decider of Everything once my bagina became the conduit for babies.

Claire was born on her own timing, full-term, 6 months early.

Don’t ever fool yourself into thinking that breastfeeding and being on the (light) birth control pill will prevent pregnancy. This is what you get when you are a fool like me: TWO BABIES and one tired mama.

Today on Curvy Girl Guide, my friend Emily has a list of 10 things that people don’t tell you about the actual vaginal birth of a baby. The dirty stuff. The real, nasty, should-be-required-reading-for-teen-girls stuff we women learn in the process of birthing a child.

From not fearing if you poop on the delivery table to the nurse squishing the afterbirth out your uterus, Emily is telling it all.

Or, most of it all.

I have a nugget of assvice to share that I learned the hard way. It’s the one thing I tell every newly pregnant woman I know and remind them of right before they head to the hospital. I’ve even been known to pass along my advice within mere minutes of the baby delivery.

If you’ve pushed that precious goo-covered alien creature out of your body through your vaginal canal, you cannot wait until you have to actually pee to go pee. PEE BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO PEE.

Ladies, learn from my own experience of having Patrick following behind me, mopping up the pee I dribbled on the hospital room floor. I was embarrassed but I couldn’t care less about him walking in my piss because the real issue I was having was my uterus falling on the floor of the bathroom. I couldn’t have cared less about peeing on the floor and having him clean up after me because my insides were clearly falling out.

I was convinced that I’d have to explain to Anna that she was an only child because “Mommy’s uterus couldn’t be held up inside of her because you ruined her baginal canal when all 6 pounds, 11 ounces of you pushed through.”

It ended up that my freshly-birthed uterus wasn’t actually falling out of my bagina. It just felt like it was. And that’s yet another thing no one will tell you about birthing babies.

You will actually put your hand between your legs to hold in your pee and your uterus.

True story.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 10 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: advice, assvice, birth story, vaginal birth

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I’m convinced heavy flow days are Baby Jeebus’ way of keeping women from being the more powerful sex.

Can you imagine Hillary Clinton standing up in Congress for the State of the Union address regretting her choice of a tan pantsuit? Wait. Maybe not Hillary because she’s probably already been through The Change.

It's a snazzy pantsuit, but any leakage would show.

Can you imagine Sarah Palin standing up in Congress for the State of the… I can’t even finish that sentence without needing a Xanax.

Even Sarah Palin knows the necessity of wearing dark shorts.

Women have a hard enough time getting through the day with our boobs in the way of swinging a golf club, making $.78 on the dollar, and being held accountable for clean toilets. Forget the necessity of Spanx that don’t roll down, high heels that crush our toes, and underwire poking our armpits. We have so much more going on under our clothes than we care to discuss in mixed company.(...)
Read the rest of Heavy Flow Days (526 words)

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 11 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: feminine hygiene, pads, tampons

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You know all that hubbub earlier this week about the sweatshirt JCPenney was selling for little girls that said, “I’m too pretty to do homework, so my brother has to do it for me.”? It’s sexist, a reflection of extrinsic negativity pressuring girls, and just plain poor taste in style. White sweatshirts are SO 1992. Thankfully, JCPenney removed the shirt, and it’s no longer for sale. I’d like to believe it was all because of the Daily Curve post I put up on Curvy Girl Guide, but that would be more self-centered of me than even I can handle.

By this point a whole 2 days later, it’s all a bunch of blah, blah, blah, let’s move on to doing something better with our time.

Of course, I’ve thought up a shirt to make for jokesters like me who are adults to wear. Huffington Post had a few interesting made-to-offend shirt ideas, so I shared my own on Facebook:(...)
Read the rest of No, YOUR Mom Dances On a Pole. (87 words)

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 5 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: facebook, girl, homework, jcpenney, mom, pole dance, sweatshirt

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There are some rules that are meant to be broken:

• eating after 7pm
• watching more than 2 hours of TV a day
• drinking a Zima after prom

There are some rules that are meant to be adhered to:

• drinking and driving
• staying in school
• wearing rompers as an adult women

Let’s discuss the last rule at length, because it’s really one that should be honored by all women over the age of fresh-out-of-college. Like me, most women are what you’d call Fashionably Challenged, but even the majority of women know there are some things meant to be worn by toddlers or teenagers who count Ke$ha as their fashion icon.

It’s unsure whether dressing in the same shirt day after day in each of the colors sold by the clothier of your choice (my personal fashion secret) may not get you out of being caught in a from-the-neck-down Fashion Don’t on Tim Gunn’s next Bravo special. However, wearing one of these currently- or recently-available frocks, should get you a one-way ticket to TLC’s What Not to Wear.

Jumpsuits are meant for fighter pilots.

Ladies over the size of 00 can not wear horizontal zebra print, especially in a romper.

"Plus Ruffled Slub-Knit Romper" should never be allowed for adults.

Harem Pants belong in Harems and Kardashian sisters.

Even though you admire your circa 1986 2nd grade teacher, you shouldn't dress like her in an applique denim dress.

Don’t do it ladies. Just, please don’t.

What’s your #1 (or #s 2-5) fashion don’t rule?

photo credits: oldnavy.com, lanebryant.com, macys.com, amazon.com

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 28 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: bad fashion, clothing, fashion, This? Is Not OK, women

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I love a kids’ birthday party where the parents are either A) invited to drop the kids and run, B) allowed into the bounce houses and trampolines, or C) offered alcoholic drinks.

Much to my giddy delight, we went to two 6-year-old birthday parties last weekend where 2 out of the above 3 options happened. Because both of the parties were for my good friends’ kids, we stuck around with the kids and parents instead of dropping off the girls and gleefully skipping to our car yelling, “WE’RE FREEEEEEE!!!!” only to return at the latest possible minute to pick them up.

Even though the first party started at TEN AY EM on a Saturday morning, all was forgiven when we adults were allowed into the gym space where the inflatable bounce houses and running ramp trampoline lived.

I just have to say a big THANK YOU JEEBUS AND OPRAH to myself for remembering to stick on that lady peepee pad because this girl got on that trampoline and jumped and jumped and jumped until something in my lower back said, “Girlfriend, all that jumping means your whole 200+ pounds lands on me and that shit hurts.”

That’s when I took to the ginormous blow-up slide that my kids slid on non-stop for an hour. And let me tell you. Sliding down upside down and backwards on a 30 foot (or so it looked) tall inflatable slide is one of life’s true pleasures. Try it. I’m serious. Climb your fatass up that dirty, vinyl plasticy material-not-found-in-nature ladder stair steppy thing, and slide upside down and backwards, and your outlook on life will be changed in an instant.

I also had the opportunity to take my first of many planking photos:

Me, planking across an open circle donut thingy, which I got stuck getting off of. Because, naturally.

I had honest-to-God fun jumping and bouncing and sliding with my kids and my friends. At my old age of 34 and heavyweight status, I had to take a break to watch in awe of the 1/2 pint kids who never once stopped moving. It’s like the children have an intravenous line feeding them a never-ending supply of black magic energy. I think for adults they call it “crystal meth.” Thank GOD the kids don’t end up losing their teeth and have random scabs on their faces because of it. WAIT… Is never-ending kid energy really crystal meth? I think I’m on to something.

I digress.

I’m proud of myself for not caring if I made a fool of myself for jumping and having fun. I just thank Pushed-Two-Babies-Within-18-Months-Of-One-Another-Out-of-My-Bagina Me for sticking in that pantyliner so I didn’t get caught peeing down my leg as I jumped.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 3 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: bounce house, kids birthday parties, planking, trampoline

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When I become famous, I can guarantee on the life of my anally-leaking dog’s butt, you will never find these photos accidentally hacked to my Twitter account:

I know, BritBrit. Celebrities are crazy mo'fos.

Flashing my Britney.

A Janet Jackson nip “slip.”

My not-so-tiny Tino.

My teeny Favre weeny.

A boxer brief Weiner bulge.

Barely-legal in the (Vanessa) Buff-dgens.

Snorting Kate Moss coke.

My very Lively Blake.

Wait.

I take that back. There was one time in college when I “accidentally” flashed my friends who happened to be holding a camera at my boobs.

I AM just like stars!

photo source unknown via google images

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | One comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: celebrities, hacked, naked pictures, photos, twitter

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