Although the red-jacketed still-black Michael Jackson put in a good effort, the kid in the homemade dinosaur/dragon thing -- ON STILTS -- won Halloween.

Overheard this morning as the school Halloween parade dispersed:

Second-grade girl to second-grade boy, who was wearing the most perfect Luke Skywalker getup I've ever seen: "There were so many Darth Vaders, I don't know which one was your father!"

Bonus good times: Shout out to the Indian kid going as Tupac, complete with fake Thug Life tats. Extremely well done, young sir.

Wolves not far

My eye fell upon this, in the leveled-reading section, as I exited my kid's classroom through the library last week ... and I've been laughing about it at least once an hour ever since.

Sorry, we only carry sizes 1, 3, and 5. You could try Sears.

Cunty Things Said to Me By This Person, Emma, Whom I Used to Work With at the Hi-Tone Nanny Agency In San Francisco in the Late 90s: A Partial List

--"You like Elizabeth Hurley? Isn't she a little too glam for you?" (In some insipid lunchtime conversation about celebs, amongst all us gals.)

--"Hunh. Provolone. Kind of bland, isn't it?" (Judging my cheese/fruit/baguette lunch, which was A, none of her business, and B, all I could afford at the fancy grocery store nearby.)

--"Well, when you've grown up a little more, you'll see it's not really that much." (Upon my wide-eyed reaction to hearing how much her house in the then-gentrifying area of the Lower Haight cost.)

--"I think you've worn those exact shoes to work every day this week." (Probably I had; I owned about three pairs, total, of work-appropriate shoes. Nice of her to notice.)

--"Heyyyy! You're getting skinny!" (Approving of my figure about a month after my dad died -- a fact of which she was well aware; she'd complained about how "long" I was out of the office, which btw was three days -- when I was at my lowest-ever adult weight on account of I had basically stopped eating for awhile there.)

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Randomly thought of this woman the other day, sparked by Shatner-knows-what; Emma is not her real name. She was/is about 5 years older than me, and was from Money, and worked at the agency as a counselor (who met with clients and placed nannies/housekeepers/etc.), whereas I was a mere admin. In fairness, she was generally pretty nice, and helped me out a lot with wedding planning and, like, restaurant suggestions, but she could occasionally just drop some fresh steaming cuntiness on my desk for no reason as she passed by. 

And when we go crashing down we come back every time

This Is Why People Have Kids' Parties at Kids' Party Places Like Pump It Up or a GodDamn Bowling Alley: A Partial List

• 16 fairies, with wings
• 2 little brothers
• 1 babysitter who was so helpful I should have paid her $500
• 1 parent who was so helpful I probably embarrassed her with the effusiveness of my thanks
• A fairy house painting craft (fucking Pinterest, goddamn) that was actually rather a success
• A cake parade (18 kids marching through the house shouting CAAAAKE! CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE!!!, much like drunken adults at a bar when that "Shots" song comes on)
• A fairy dance party (primarily to Taylor Swift's entire 1989 album,* purchased online for the occasion, on repeat)
• The pin the wand on the fairy game (I forgot both the eye covering -- eventually using a scarf that, well ... I just really hope none of those kids had lice that night -- and the fact that there's supposed to be a prize for the winner)
• A fairy egg hunt in the gloaming, which served as the distribution for and stuffing of goodie bags 

Mr. Gleemonex and I are exhausted, but the party was a hit, and Kid Gleemonex was thrilled and grateful (oh my heck, one only turns eight once, doesn't one, after all?), and we are NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN.

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*Here's how you know a person is An Old: They still call it an album and honestly can't think what the fuck else they're supposed to call it so shut up 

Gentle and soft / smoooooooooth and easaaaaayyy

So I was practicing my bass this morning (I do 10 minutes a day -- at this rate, I'll be an expert pro bassist in four million years!), and I was working on "Hotel California," and I could not stop laughing to myself, thinking of this, which is the most brilliant thing in the history of ever and if you are not watching the entirety of Documentary Now, you are MISSING OUT:

Mad, Mad, Mad Respek for the Mouse

In Which the Blogger Gets Over a Not-Small Amount of Snobbery and Learns to Love -- I Mean, Fucking LOVE -- Disneyland

You guys, the Mouse has got it DIALED.

There is a reason people go there, and then go again and again and again. Every detail -- holy shit, they have every detail covered. Everything from ambient music to shop fronts to the way the queues work -- every perfectly-groomed trash-and-gum-free border planting -- every attendant's themed uniform -- every vista -- every bathroom, for chrissake!  The rides are fun as hell (OMFG, Radiator Springs Racers! Worth the park admission all by itself!), the FastPass system is genius, the workers' commitment to upbeat hospitality is awesome, the experiences of each area and attraction ... holy crap, you guys. I cannot praise this family vacation highly enough -- we barely looked at our phones, except to coordinate our movements and meetups, and we watched precisely zero TV or iPad for five straight days, which is miraculous for us. We walked as much as 13.2 miles in a single day, we blazed from six a.m. to 10 p.m. three days in a row ... we are all fucking exhausted but had such an awesome time! I'm over being a snob about the kind of people who go to Disneyland -- cause now I'm one of them, and I love the Mouse.

Herewith, some thoughts:

• I would under no circumstances attempt Disneyland & California Adventure:
• at anything less than 90% of my optimal health and mobility (CHRIST there's a lot of walking, stairs, walking, getting in and out of small spaces, onto boats, etc., and walking), 
• with any child under 40" tall (the threshold for virtually all the best rides), 
• without the Extra Magic Hour/Magic Morning (obtained either by staying in an on-property hotel or via buying the whole package through Costco Travel -- a whole hour before the park opens to the public. It's worth every penny)
• or with less than a 3-day park-hopper pass (there's no way to see/do everything you want to do in less time without dying of exhaustion). 
• I was under the impression that the FastPass system was pay-to-play -- but it isn't. I won't explain it here, but all it is is, with a little planning, you can skip lines and just ride rides. DO IT. 
• Cars Land -- Radiator Springs -- is the greatest theme park "land" I've ever seen in my life.
• The animation academy -- learn to draw a Disney character in about 15 minutes -- was fun, and not something I'd've thought to do, but Kid Gleemonex wanted to, so we did, and now I want to do more of them.
• The spaces allowed by the queue fencing on all the older rides (basically all of Disneyland, and anything built before, say, the mid 90s) are hilariously narrow -- not built to accommodate today's XXL American Physique, lordamercy. 
• World of Color was kind of meh -- it's supposed to be fountains and fireworks, and it is, but it's also -- primarily -- this weird worship service for The Genius And Wonder of The Most Beloved Dreamster Of All Time, Walt -- WONDERFUL Walt -- Disney.