The Facts of Life

This Friday I would like to pay homage to five women who have had a great impact on my life. They were role models, good friends and eventually...cancelled. The women of which I speak? The five fabulous ladies of The Facts of Life. They rocked my world and now they make up my Friday 5. Notice there's no top, because, seriously, how do you choose?

Friday 5 - The Women of The Facts of Life

1. Age before beauty, let's begin with Mrs. G. Not that Mrs. Edna Garrett was not beautiful with her obviously bottle-dyed, red, bouffant hair-do - seriously, that thing was day-glow and bulletproof. In case you didn't receive a copy of her resume, Mrs. Garrett was formerly employed as the housekeeper of a Mr. Phillip Drummond of New York City where she performed the usual household duties including engaging in comedic banter with Drummond's two adopted, black sons and biological daughter Kimberly. Her experiences on Park Avenue led her to believe she was capable of handling larger numbers of wealthy progeny at the all-girls Eastland boarding school and she was given a spin-off. With her shrill voice and gentle eyes she guided these girls through the maze of adolescence before they would face the real world of whatever Ivy League college their parents bought their way into.

2. Natalie Green. Oh, Natalie. Always the comedienne. During one episode you confessed you were funny to distract from your weight. While we laughed at your jokes about childhood obesity, we were crying inside, Nat. Sadly, you were before your time as TV censors today would never allow any actual jokes about your weight, but they'd cast a girl thirty pounds lighter and call her "the fat one". I loved your ringletted hair and middle part and I thought those kilts were very flattering. Remember her wise words, "I'd be a happier magic marker than a skinny pencil."

3. Tootie Ramsey- or Dorothy as she demanded she be called during the reunion show. Please, she'll always be Tootie to us. As you recall, Tootie wore rollerskates for most of the first season to make herself stand out as "that rollerskating girl" instead of "the only black girl in a sea of Arian youth". This braces-wearing, roller-skating, polyester-beribboned, pig-tail-sporting, Perez Hilton of her time covered up her big-mouthed ways with an insipid smile and a, "Soooory!" Maybe the tabloids should try that instead of high-priced libel attorneys.

4. Blair Warner- I had a love-hate relationship with Blair as did most girls my age. You loved her for that long, luxurious, blond hair, hot-rollered and hairsprayed within an inch of its life, and her obviously surgically enhanced ski-jump nose, but you hated her for what a stark-raving bitch she was. Oh, but she was more than a little bit of fabulous and you know I loves me some fab. She had a vanity table - a vanity table! - for Christ's sake, which was the height of glamorous to the ten year-old me. She was an incredible butt for Joe's jokes and we loved her even more on the rare occasions she was humbled and seemed just one of us.

5. Jo Polniaczek - Yes, I had to Google the name to find the spelling. Jo holds a special place in my heart because she was my sister's favorite. K even sported Jo's hairstyle for a while - awkwardly placed ponytail, two plain metal barrettes on the sides, butt-parted, feathered bangs - I am still trying to find photographic evidence. Jo was Polish, the only girl whose ancestors couldn't be traced back to the Mayflower, poor, her father worked as an auto mechanic, and obviously, a lesbian. Ignoring the blatant fox-in-a-hen house connotations, Jo's lack of gentility and love of motorcycles and coveralls made her stand out among the Eastland girls. She found her place among this gaggle of misfits though and formed a close "friendship" with Blair. The producers tried, in vain, to put the gay rumors to rest by having Jo be the first of the girls to get married at the series' end, but no amount of lace and sequins can cover that up.

"There you have the Facts of Life...", my Friday five. This show was the starting point for many a star, Molly Ringwald and George Clooney to name two. If that doesn't earn this show a place in posterity, what does? I miss these ladies so much and fully intend on buying the DVDs for my girls. Well, for myself, but let's pretend their for them, shall we?

"That Guy"

This morning while reading a women's magazine on the treadmill I came across an article describing over the top romantic gestures men have performed for the women they love. While they varied from hiring a sky-writer to writing a love song, I have to say the majority of them made me a little nauseous. Articles like this one create a fantasy for women and an unattainable standard for men that, I think, causes a lot of friction in man-woman relations. We women measure our potential mates by this standard and most guys fall terribly short. I say some and not all men because That Guy* does exist who does all of these things. We all think we want to date That Guy (TG), but trust me, I have, and it's not all it's cracked up to be.

One of the desired behaviors that TG exhibits is always being there for you. He'll come shoe shopping with you or cancel plans with his buddies if you want to hang out - understandable when you first start dating, but stalkerish after a while. Who the hell wants that? While dating TG his constant availability became a noose around my neck. He was always showing up at my school (yes, this was a high school boyfriend whose name will not be mentioned**) when we didn't have plans and it sort of creeped me out. And don't you have a life? Even as an old married lady, I enjoy when my husband is particularly busy at work because it gives me the chance to miss him.

Women also think we want an expressive guy. TG would write me poems and call me sickening pet names that I can not even type lest I puke all over my keyboard and frankly, I was embarrassed for him. I do love the occasional, random, display of affection from hubby, but it's the understated quality of his expressions that I like. His pet names for me are the generic "Hon" and "Babe", which when spoken in the kitchen don't make me vomit on the child I'm holding. And his missives are limited to Valentine and anniversary cards with a random, cute e-mail here and there.

Flowers - yeah, yeah, we all say we want flowers all the time, but how special would that gesture be if it was a weekly occurrence? TG would regularly bring me a single red rose. OK, I just threw up in my mouth a little. Why do guys think that's the symbol of romance? Yeah, when you're TWELVE! Any time I've ever received one I've felt like I was looking at a poster in a cheap nail salon minus the disembodied hand with scary, long acrylic tips. Anyway, these botanical expressions of his affection became so common place I stopped gushing and started responding along the lines of, "Um, great. Thanks." when I received them. While hubby is to the other extreme (ahem, hint there) I do appreciate it more when he randomly gets me flowers. And he knows no damn, red roses.

The biggest pet peeve I have with That Guy is he's usually a crier. Now I appreciate appropriate amounts of manly crying at appropriate times. My husband cried when our kids were born and his grandfather died, I'll even say I enjoy that he cries when watching My Dog Skip, but what I can not stand is the guy who cries whenever you have a fight or every time he gets too emotional. You want a guy who's in touch with his feelings, not giving them a Swedish massage every day. When my TG boyfriend would cry I wanted to scream, "Jesus! Grow a pair!"

So ladies, take it from me, you don't want to date or, God forbid, marry That Guy. While he might be just what you need after a breakup That Guy will quickly become your shadow showing up at your door at seven in the morning telling you how beautiful you look with sleep in your eyes. What we all want and need is a regular guy who regularly tells us he loves us and occasionally makes the grand gesture. TG had made so many the only thing he had left to do was give me a kidney. Which I would have refused if it meant spending a lifetime being called "Angel" There! I typed it! GAK!

*This is a phrase my husband and I use all the time when we can't quite describe the behavior of a certain person. For example, "So he was in front of me in line, screaming on his cell phone like he's a big shot, you know, That Guy." It can be used in all scenarios and situations because there's always That Guy somewhere.

* KK, Alex, Jen V., Jen W. and Rebecca all know who I am talking about. Speech impediment, bad kisser from Kennedy who I took to prom.

Random Confessions of a Stay at Home Mom

I confess I am letting my daughters watch Handy Manny and my son cry in his crib with the hopes that he'll fall back to sleep after a too short nap while I write this.

I confess I ran five miles today and still have not showered.

I confess I did not brush my teeth until eleven o'clock today.

I confess I wash my hair only twice a week, but my colorist says it's great for my hair - so there.
I guess I'm also confessing I'm not a natural redhead.

I confess I don't bother turning laundry right side out if it's been put in the hamper inside out. I also fold and put laundry away in that condition. Put it in as you'd like it returned. I confess I really don't care if the bottom of our socks are dingy. Throw in some bleach, see what happens, move on. I confess I have had to rewash a load of laundry after it sat wet in the washer for too long and started to smell bad. I confess I do not pre-treat stains, I just wash and hope for the best. I confess I can not remember the last time I washed the nursing bra I am wearing.

I confess that my underwear drawer, my husband's sock drawer and the kids' pajama drawers are really only drawers in th academic sense - they are rectangular and pull out - but really, they are small spaces into which I stuff clean garments never knowing what lurks in the rear.

I confess selecting a piece of Tupperware in my house consists of opening the door, allowing all the containers and lids spill out, finding what I need and literally throwing the rest back in the cabinet and slamming the door.

I confess that rather than change my sons' crib sheet I move him to the cleaner side of the crib until the cleaning lady comes. I confess I am a stay at home mom who has a cleaning lady who was only supposed to be coming for the first three months after the baby was born. I confess I hope my husband doesn't notice and I will do anything short of whoring myself to keep her.

I confess, when at home, if one of my kids has a runny nose and I don't have a tissue handy, such as we're running late for school, I will use my sleeve. To prove this point we were at the park one day and my middle daughter developed a runny nose. With nary a tissue in sight she asks , "Can I use your shirt?" in front of a group of other moms and I have to say, "No!" and roll my eyes to them like, "Where the hell did they come up with these things?" knowing full well if no one were watching, I'd do it.

I confess my lunch on some days consists of an entire bag of Goldfish, graham crackers and a Diet Coke because that's exactly what I want.

I confess I eat peanut butter straight out of the jar from which I feed my children - using my index finger.

I confess I do not think half a pie an unreasonable amount of pizza - or pie for that matter.

I confess that this morning I paid $1.00 to download Lita Ford's Kiss Me Deadly.

I confess that I am overly excited to watch Pussycat Dolls present Girliscious tonight while my husband is at a business function.

I confess I hated The Forty Year Old Virgin and think it was made for fourteen year old virgins.

I confess I love The Rock, or Dwayne Johnson, whatever he's calling himself these days and would like to have him over for my celebrity dinner party which also includes Bono, Alice Cooper, Sandra Bullock, Jennifer Garner & Ben Affleck (more for her, but he can tag along), Matt Damon, Jeremy Piven, Tina Fey, the woman who plays Pam on The Office and Jennifer Lopez. Yes, it might get awkward with Ben and the Jens, but couldn't you just see the two gals getting drunk, giggling in a corner together saying, "He did that with you too?".

I confess I think my husband, sweatpants, a bottle of wine and a Nicholas Cage action movie are the ingredients for a great Friday night. I confess I love Nicholas Cage movies - except Leaving Las Vegas which was creepy and dark and I saw it with my dad not knowing it opened with a threesome scene. Awkward.

I confess it is 8:30 and I am seriously contemplating going to bed.