Arkie Mama: Dear Migraine

Why can’t you leave me alone?

You remind me of a couple of  former stalkers boyfriends, those annoying guys who refused to go away after being dismissed. (OK, so maybe I didn’t always make myself clear.)

But you, Migraine, you fully understand how much I loathe you. And still, you won’t be dissuaded from torturing me.

All day yesterday, you danced around the corners of my poor, weary brain, threatening an attack of monumental proportions. You knew, of course, that I had forgotten my medication. But you’re such a tease, no? Every time I picked up my keys, preparing to run home for the safety of my drugs, you subsided.

And then you waited, all night, before launching a second, and much stronger, surprise advance.

Now I’m trying to catch up with you, popping that pricey pill too late.

Looks like this will be an all-day battle. But I’m on furlough today, with quick access to a darkened bedroom and free from the demands of bosses and children.

Can’t you find someone else to bother? Someone who needs to be forced into quiet solitude?

Here are my recommendations:


The people who won’t shut up about the First Lady’s legs. (Let it go, please. It’s not like we didn’t know she’s in possession of all her appendages.)

The rush-hour drivers who refuse to merge into the left lane while approaching I-30, who instead blow by everyone, expecting us to let you in at the last minute.

The woman at the gym who brings her 8ish-year-old boy into the women’s locker room.

The McDonald’s parents who pretend not to notice that their darling little 6-year-old Madyson is pummeling and biting the toddlers.

Oh, the list goes on and on, Migraine.

I’m retreating for now. But only until the pill kicks in. You have been warned.

Arkie Mama: An exercise in self-torture

I already had a crappy day, so I figured, what the hell, why not watch Fox’s ridiculously melodramtic Octomom: Unseen.

OK, first — unseen?

Oh, Fox. You crack me up. Really.

So here’s what I’ve learned thus far:

Nadya thinks her house is haunted.

Yes, by your endless fantasies involving unscrupulous fertility specialists, sweetie. What’s that? You’re scared of your storage closet? EVERYONE is scared of their storage closet, especially if they’re married to a packrat spouse. *ahem*

My favorite part? Nadya tells the film crew that she no longer uses a certain haunted bathroom because once, right before she, you know, went, she heard a child’s voice saying, “Mommy.”

Has anyone present used the bathroom in the past decade without hearing “Mommy?”

Because if that’s the big indicator that your house is haunted — well, I’d best start preparing for the swiveling-head vomit scene right now.

Oh, yeah. Been there done that. Heh. Ever clean up after a kid with Rotovirus?

Back to Nadya: Her parents clearly think she’s demented. OK, well, her mom thinks Nadya has issues. Daddy, well … either he’s really medicated or he has even more probs than his seriously wacko daughter.

Mother’s Day at Nadya’s place? Wow. Sexually active teenagers should be forced to watch this portion of the show. I’m breaking out into hives rightthisveryminute.

Commercial break: Can anyone tell me why Old Navy’s talking mannequins pant? Every time I hear the beginning of this ad, I flashback to those stupid Showtime soft-porn movies that junior high boys used to snicker over. Come to think of it, I think mannequins starred in those as well. Hmm. Creepy.

Oops. Sat on the remote. Have missed part of the super-exclusive Octomom birth video. Still, I’ve managed to ascertain that the medical staff hated Nadya’s camera person. For good reason. When told to get out of the way of bustling nurses, the camera person replies, “You are very antagonistic.”

Much arguing follows. Just what you want during a C-section involving eight babies — a standoff between those delivering said babies and a belligerent videographer.

Am now listening to the screams of Octomom’s eight infants. It’s been three years since I last nursed a baby, but I could swear I’m lactating right now.