cattydaddy.com

Snooki, mangia! Then go away. And take your friends.

CattyDaddy — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 20:52:20 GMT

Snooki got to her weight goal of 98 pounds. Generally, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anything that any of the Jersey Shore morons are doing. But a few things annoy me. I bet you’re shocked.

First, as a whole, they completely and utterly soil anything Italian. If I had my way, I’d require them to label their heritage “Guido” because most of us Italian-Americans aren’t like them. We are literate, pronounce the letter “h” when it follows a “t” (ex. “three” is different from “tree”) and we aspire to do more with our lives than achieving a hair height equivalent to the Leaning Tower of Pisa or a skin color that is Hermes orange.

I get supremely annoyed by people confusing the art of Guido as Italian. As someone who has actually stepped foot in Italy more than a few times, let me tell you that there is nearly nothing that can visually assault the eye as much as The Situation, Snooki or any of the other douche bags or douche nozzles that are on the show. Most real Italians are well dressed, well spoken and actually eat more than Chiclets and Vodka.

But besides just how the Jersey Shore morons smear the adult perception of Italian-Americans, there is what happens when kids watch the show. And I say this not advocating that children should watch the show (because I clearly think they should not); but because I assume that some kids are being raised by buffoons who are truly not “smarter than a fifth grader” and don’t understand that their children watching these behaviors may actually impact how their kids behave. Snooki or her other cohorts somehow become role models. (God help us one and all) And then somehow Snooki achieving what may or may not be a healthy weight of 98 pounds becomes an aspiration of young girls. And if their parental role models are of a similar mindset, the worry of idiots becoming extinct is safe for at least another generation.

Do you know what would truly impress me about Snooki? Finding out that her IQ exceeded her weight instead of her waist. Spend more time eating and less time spray tanning.

Now if you’d excuse me, I’m going to make myself an espresso.

Shanghai Surprise

CattyDaddy — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 12:44:48 GMT

After visiting Beijing, setting aside the amazing historical sites, I found myself longing for two things - 1. A shower and 2. To get the heck out of China. Never in my life have I seen such a dreary, gloomy city where spitting outweighed common courtesy tenfold. And even the historic sites were often overshadowed by barking people, shoving and hawkers trying replicas cheesy replicas of each site often emblazoned with mini LED lights.

Flash-forward six months later, to when Greg was invited to lecture in Shanghai. Presented with the opportunity to visit Shanghai, my first thought was "Dear God, why couldn't Greg have been invited to any other Asian country to lecture?" And then, I googled it. I found references calling Shanghai the "Paris of China." Hmm, maybe it's filled with Louis Vuitton stores and rude people. Just kidding - I love Paris and don't find the French to be rude. They're just reacting to gauche Americans. But, I digress.

So, I decided to give it a go and we booked a ticket for me. Boy, was I surprised! I had done China as much of a disservice by assuming the entire country was disgusting and foul based on my experience in just one city as if someone were to judge the entire US by a visit to Topeka, Kansas.

Shanghai was an incredible city! It's very cosmopolitan - interesting and eclectic architecture, stylish people and hardly anyone spat. Unlike its capital city, Shanghai offers a much better foray into China than Beijing. It still feels very much Chinese with language barriers aplenty, insane driving and people trying to sell you fake Gucci bags and hookers simultaneously. But it is far more approachable and just enough "western" to allow one to breathe. Which speaking of air quality, Shanghai is to Beijing as the Cape Cod shoreline is to the Sumner Tunnel.

Most of the city's incredible skyscrapers have been built over the past fifteen years or so (which speaks for how quickly China can make things happen.) But whereas, Beijing had very little greenery, Shanghai had lots of trees and plants and parks among the beautiful new skyscrapers. And besides the ultra-modern parts of the city, there were tree lined boulevards that would convince you that you were in Europe.

I would gladly visit Shanghai again. Beijing and Topeka still both compete for last place in places of the world I ever hope to see again. Well, realistically, Topeka still bottoms the list. At least going to Beijing I'd earn a ton of airline miles. And I wouldn't risk running into that asshole Fred Phelps.

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Hello, Dolly

CattyDaddy — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 12:30:56 GMT

One stroller, one toddler, and a hoard of dolls. Read all about it on EDGE...
'

http://www.edgeonthenet.com/index.php?ch=columnists&sc=cattydaddy&id=121587

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Family Outing

CattyDaddy — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 05:00:00 GMT

Read about our experience being out as a family on EDGE:

http://www.edgeonthenet.com/columnists/cattydaddy///120629/family_outing

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Miss Independence

CattyDaddy — Fri, 06 May 2011 05:00:00 GMT

Read my column about raising an uber independent toddler on EDGE:

http://www.edgeonthenet.com/columnists/cattydaddy///119410/miss_independence

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Flying the Friendly Skies

CattyDaddy — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 05:00:00 GMT

Read about our experiences jetting around the globe with a baby in my EDGE column...

http://www.edgeonthenet.com/columnists/cattydaddy///118174/flying_the_friendly_skies

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

A Tribute to the Working Parent

CattyDaddy — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 05:00:00 GMT

Read my column on working parents on EDGE...

http://www.edgeonthenet.com/columnists/cattydaddy///117111/a_tribute_to_the_working_parent

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

The Doctor's Wife

CattyDaddy — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 01:23:00 GMT

Medical dinners can be a mixed bag. Spouses are either really interesting and artsy or everyone is in medicine and it becomes like an episode of Gray's Anatomy sans the sexy people (give or take a few.) The one we attended the other night was the latter.

The first couple we chatted with were pleasant but had less personality than a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau. I tried for a bit but when I had finally had all that I could endure, I excused myself to phone my parents to check on Elly. I hoped that Greg would have found a way to escape by the time I returned. Ok, so I may seem like a bad husband right now but it's not like I left him a la 127 Hours.

Much to my chagrin, he hadn't chewed himself free. But a friend whose company I enjoy had arrived to the trio. We got caught up and were then called in for dinner where once again my luck would take a turn for the worst. As people filed into the dining room, we managed to land ourselves at a table with a lively and interesting couple to Greg's right and a mismatched and awkward couple to my left. I introduced myself to the gent next to me who looked like a cross between the Swedish Chef from the Muppets and an androgynous character from a Saturday Night Live skit. (Oh waiter, another Cabernet please!) And then proceeded to introduce myself to his wife who immediately proclaimed "I'm a dentist." I don't even think she told me her name. How lovely for you.

It was a good reminder that however insecure I may feel being non-medical in a sea of physicians (regardless of the fact that I ALWAYS have the nicest shoes), I have no problem being a doctor's husband. My running joke is that it's much easier to marry a doctor than to be one.

But Dentist Girl really does feel second fiddle. In many ways. They live, and her practice is in the burbs. "But my gym is in Boston." Ok, now I'm even more confused. My gym is two miles away and I have a hard enough time getting there. You make it a point to drive over a half-hour to go into Boston to work out? Really? I bet she doesn't even floss.

And just in case I didn't want to start to drink lighter fluid at this point of the evening, she started quizzing her husband on Shakespearean characters and quotes from his works. Seriously, woman? Emasculating your husband more than his haircut already does is totally unnecessary. But if it keeps you from talking to me, carry on.

And then came the best sound of the night - the clanging glass indicating that the awards presentation and speeches would begin. Phew!

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

The Kotex Sled

CattyDaddy — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 01:49:00 GMT

I had sort of an apparition this morning. I received a message from Mother Nature in my toast. It was a lengthy message (I had two pieces) and in hindsight, I suppose that I should have saved it or at least called Oprah. But, I was hungry. So to make up for it, I'm passing her message on here. In a nutshell, she said that she's sorry about all the snow. And that while she will eventually thaw out this ginormous mess, in the interim people should use some common sense (and common courtesy) and put down ice melt!

I thought to myself, You know what? That old broad has a point. It's not that difficult, people. Help her out a little. A sprinkle here and a sprinkle there and the next thing you know, it's a whole lot better.

But my day didn't end with just a toast sighting. Today was trash day. As I was out walking Betty and Elly (and taking our lives into my hands), embedded into one of the already soiled banks, I spotted an "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret " sized maxi-pad that didn't successfully land its way into the truck. It's amidst the rest of a neighbor's exploded trash bag, including what looks like the remnant of a Jimmy Dean sausage. I'm not sure which grossed me out more.

I am willing to bet that whoever Miss Kotex is, she will not pick it up, given the propensity to not deice around here. I just hope that some small child doesn't mistake it for a toboggan.

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Saddle up, Missy!

CattyDaddy — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 02:24:00 GMT

Last night, Greg and I had an incredible dinner at the White Barn Inn in Kennebunk. We had been wanting to try it for ages and finally had the chance. (Thanks Mom and Dad for minding Elly!)

While waiting for our table, we decided to have a drink at the bar. As luck would have it, the only two open seats were at the piano. So we (quite stereotypically) sat there. In a matter of no time, the pianist began to play "Over the Rainbow". All we needed was a tv showing the Smucker's Ice Skating Competition, Liza Minelli and a local field hockey team and we would have had the quorum needed to vote the Bush's out of town.

While we were seated at the piano, hidden behind a flower arrangement the size of a Texas hairdo, we had yet to offend anyone's wholesome sensibilities. You see, there are natural habitats where one expects to have gay sightings - hair salons, Neiman Marcus, Sephora, and piano bars. In those places, we either blend in like chameleons or are amusing to see like monkeys frolicking at a zoo. But, in a short time we would be neither of those. We would soon be hyenas - dreaded and feared, out to ruin everyone's fun.

As the maitre d' escorted us to our table through the sea of white people replete in their Brooks Brothers and Talbots garb, the frost from the ice and snow outside paled in comparison to what we felt inside.

Two men dining together at 8:45 on a Saturday evening weren't likely business partners poring over documents and yacking it up about the "big game". We had clearly upset the delicate balance in this sleepy red town. Oh, the amuse bouche was just about the only thing that was amused in that dining room. A number of our fellow diners were visibly disturbed that two homosexuals had tainted their dinner. But you know what? This boy didn't care. As a matter of fact, it energized me. By the third look of disdain we got cast from the woman that I'll refer to as Bitch because I don't know her Christian name, we opted for the nine course tasting menu over the four course option. Saddle up, Missy. We're gonna be here for a while!

The beauty of it all is that by the second course, I no longer realized that there was anyone else in the room with us. It was just me and Greg. We had a fabulous night enjoying an amazing dinner and each other's company.

So, to our fellow diners who cast us dirty looks, as you're hanging up those stuffy suits of yours, remember this... Whether you may like it or not, closets are for clothes and shoes, not our lives.

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Winter Wonderland, My Arse!

CattyDaddy — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 20:50:00 GMT

It just took two weeks and one blizzard to put me back in full bitch mode. The serenity of Tokyo already feels like a distant memory. I know that "serenity" and "Tokyo" would seem to be mutually exclusive terms. In my experience, they were not. More to come on that later. Now back to my rant.

My primary pet peeve in the winter (did you think there would only be one?) are jerks who don't shovel, and/or don't shovel properly. If I had a dollar for every a-hole who lives on a corner in Metro Boston who did not properly shovel their sidewalk, I would be able to afford a business class ticket back to Tokyo for myself, Greg and Elly. Some people do the four inch pathway which would be perfectly suitable if we were Lilliputians. Most of us however, are not..

When these corner house dwelling folk buy their homes, does it not enter their feeble brains that they will need to shovel? When the realtor is painting a rosy picture of all those summer days that you'll spend sipping Country Time lemonade on your front porch waving to Sally and Jimmy as they ride by on their bicycles with the banana seat and tassels, remember that those summer days give way to the nastiness of winter. And, before you know it, it rears its relentless ugly head and turns your frontage into a frozen tundra. Not shoveling, is not only inconsiderate to the average pedestrian, but is also extremely inconsiderate to those in wheelchairs or people with strollers. It is virtually impossible to go outside without having to resort to walking on the street. And, it's not like we're South Carolinans who get an occasional snowstorm once every ten years and don't know how to handle it. We live with this stuff for up to a third of the year!

I envision the culprits being Twinkie-eating, Marlboro-smoking people sitting on a pleather recliner watching reruns of Hogan's Heroes. Get off your lazy arse and shovel, dammit! Or pay some kid to do it for you. I and your body mass index will thank you for it.

My second peeve goes out to all the folks who claim stake on street parking by putting all kinds of crap out there to hold a spot making every day look like trash day. There was a time when this was only seen in lower brow neighborhoods, now it's everywhere. I loathe it. But it does make me wonder what the etiquette is for these spot holders? Does it vary based on the object used? Does a lounge chair buy you more or less time than a wooden chair? Does a Mary on the half-shell get you more time out of reverence than say a cooler? Regardless, assuming the spot is yours until the spring, is wrong.

And if you live on a corner, don't shovel and put out cheesy things to hold your spot, do us all a favor and move.

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

The Comb-Over

CattyDaddy — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 05:00:00 GMT

In Boston, the comb-over, like the Puffin , is an endangered species. Baby Boomers and GenX’rs alike who count themselves among the hairline challenged have typically opted for a very short “do” or have shaved their scalps to the skin. I applaud these lads who have extrapolated Nancy Reagan’s advice on drugs and have “just said no” to the awful toupees of yesteryear or worse yet “the maybe-nobody-will-notice-that-I’m-combing-hair-from-my-left-ear-to-my-right.”

When I spotted my first comb-over here in Japan, I assumed it was a one-off. But now that I have had time to get a good sample set, I can see that the comb-over is certainly alive and kicking here. If I had the chutzpah to take pictures, I would have enough material to write a book. I even have a title for it – “From Hair to There.”

The best one that I have seen thus far I have dubbed the “Mother of All Comb-overs.” (This picture is not the actual guy but a close approximation.) It wasn’t just a comb-over but a comb-up-and-over. In order to achieve the illusion, the gent used hair from the nape of his neck, brushed it forward to his forehead region and then swooped it ever so slightly to the side. From the front, he looked odd, like a defective Fisher Price character. But it took a view from the back to appreciate the artistry that went into this affront to Vidal Sassoon himself.

One simply couldn’t keep a coif like this together with a mere dollop of mousse. In the event that a strong Tokyo wind caused him to take flight like a parasail, forensic analysis would likely show that there was significant Brylcreem , traces of Dippity Do , and just a spritz of AquaNet to finish it off.

Raising a Politician

CattyDaddy — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 05:00:00 GMT

Here's my latest on EDGE...

Raising a Politician

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Shopaholics are made, not born

CattyDaddy — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 05:00:00 GMT

As Elly shuffles around the house in her Japanese slippers (adult sized) with a shopping bag slung over one shoulder and a travel umbrella on the other, I can't help but wonder how kids pick up the things that they like to do. Or can I?

I suppose that It would only be appropriate for me to accept the blame for her penchant for footwear. Daddy has been known to have a bit of a shoe fetish. And I don't mean fetish in the skievy, toe-sniffing kind of way. I mean it in the "made in Italy, come with nice shoe bags" kind of way.

And I assume that her love for umbrellas is in reverence to her Irish side of the family. Though it turns out that Japan has been pretty similar to Ireland in its rain frequency. Maybe it's an island thing?

At any rate, it is nothing short of hysterical to watch her fly around the place, fully accessorized. It's like watching a little Italian grandmother (sans apron) who was recently inspired by Project Runway's "Piperlime accessory wall." As she sashays along, she occasionally pauses to point out and narrate her bag du jour. "Shooooes". Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. "Bag." Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. "'Brella." You work it, girl!

For the time being, it's fantastic cost effective play. And I love that she is using her imagination instead of all of the characters that we'll soon be haunted by. She doesn't care what's in the bag, or where it came from (though one of her all-time favorites has been a Kiehl's bag).

I suspect that as she gets older we may have to say goodbye to one of my favorite mythical characters, "Santa Coach" for Dora the Explorer (God help us all.) And she will probably be no longer be contented by an empty shopping bag. But on the bright side, at least I can look forward to having a partner-in-crime.

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

Blurple?

CattyDaddy — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 05:00:00 GMT

Here's my latest on EDGE...

Blurple?

Copyright 2010 CattyDaddy.com All rights reserved.

A Little Courtesy Won't Kill You

CattyDaddy — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 05:00:00 GMT

Back west, we often excuse behavior because of the size of the city that one lives in. Just because a city is busy and bustling doesn’t mean that the residents have to be rude and inconsiderate. We’re currently cohabitating with 39 million other people. There are lots of things that I find incredible in Japan. The one thing that really stands out is how courteous people are. As westerners, there are some lessons that we can learn from the Japanese.

Here are some examples:

Driving - Drivers here generally don’t incessantly honk their horns, cut people off, or try to mow down pedestrians like overgrown lawns. Many of you have probably seen those three things happen all in one setting back west!
Germs - People here wear surgical masks when they themselves are sick as to not get others sick. Very unlike, the nose picker on the Green Line who coughs without covering his mouth, ha?
Noise Pollution - Though trains are crowded, people obey the “Don’t speak on cell phones” signs. You never hear music blaring through someone’s headsets. That’s a big difference from the person I saw sporting a boom box in Cambridge recently. A boom box? Really?? Get headsets! If you want to kick it old school, carry your boom box with headsets.
Kid Sounds - Babies and toddlers sounding up in places, even confined places, turns nary a head. We’ve been in small restaurants or crowded trains where Elly has chimed in with that toddler screech that can rival Patti Lupone. I’ve quickly turned to see what reactions have been and not a thing. People continue their conversations like not a sound was made.
Security – When was the last time you left your bicycle unlocked in Times Square? We walked by at least a dozen bikes last night on a very busy street that were all unlocked, just standing on their kickstands. Back home, you’d have a better shot at seeing Sasquatch than ever finding your bike again. Yet here in a city swarmed with people, it’s as if you’re in a small town neighborhood.

It just goes to show that people can be courteous, honest, thoughtful and kind; when they choose to be. Next article: It's not all Utopia. Japan has its issues, too.

Potty Training Lessons

CattyDaddy — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 05:00:00 GMT

Yen Zen

CattyDaddy — Sun, 26 Sep 2010 05:00:00 GMT

Tokyo is known to be an expensive city. My recollection from when I was here in 2002, was that costs varied wildly. As it turns out, memory had served me correctly. There are things that are considerably more expensive by American standards and others that are quite reasonable. It's an interesting dichotomy because sometimes the variances can occur side-by-side with no rhyme or reason.

For example, today I was on the very tony Omotesando Avenue which has been compared to Paris’s Champs-Elysees. ( I know that you're shocked to hear that I made it there within my first ten days in Tokyo!) On one side of the street, a cup of coffee at a café was 1000¥ ($12). Directly across the boulevard, you could fetch a Campari for 450¥ ($5). Now I’m no mathematician but it didn’t take me long to figure out I could have two Camparis for less than a cup of coffee. Such a deal!

I have found milk to be considerably more expensive regardless of where it is sold. It is primarily sold by the quart for about 250¥ ($3). Besides that I have yet to figure out if I’m buying 1%, 2% or whole, I’m quite surprised at the difference. I suppose there is less room here for cows than at home. Nonetheless, for $12 a gallon, I feel like I should get to meet the cow or at least see her picture on the container.

The most interesting difference by far is the cost of cantaloupe here. Cantaloupe is a cherished fruit and can range from $85 to well over $120 per melon. Yup, you saw that correctly! It is considered a luxury item. You find them in the fine grocers cloaked in what appears to be a diaper. The fruit is cared for better than some children in this world, having been monitored and coddled from the time it was a mere seedling. It made me wonder what the Japanese would think if they visited Boston and saw them at the fruit stands at Haymarket for about a buck a piece. Would they be very excited at the bargain of it all or totally repulsed by Dante behind the stand, scratching his privates and spitting on the ground?

[I wrote this article up to this point while riding the Metro back to our apartment from Omotesando.]

I’m now waiting to pick up the takeout that I ordered for Greg and myself. An order of shumai and two grilled fish entrees with rice and sautéed vegetables cost just less than that cup of coffee that I mentioned earlier. Once again proving that Tokyo is not always super expensive. It depends what you want and where you are.

The bottom line. .. Outside of the States, the US dollar currently has the value of Monopoly money. You want to play, you have to pay. There are things that are good value and others that are not so good. I suppose traveling to third world nations would be one alternative. But then you would risk catching hepatitis, or worse, no Campari.

Konichi-what?

CattyDaddy — Wed, 22 Sep 2010 05:00:00 GMT

We're about half way through our first week here so I thought this would be a great time to recap some first impressions and observations.

Warming a toilet seat is a nice touch. Toilets here mean business. They're not the typical plastic and porcelain thrones that you see elsewhere. These are some high-tech loos. They are equipped with seat warmers, a multiple-function bidet and a deodorization feature. They do everything but dry your bum for you though I suspect that higher end models may do that, too.
Being illiterate is a humbling feeling. While my Pimsleur tapes helped prepare me a little for communicating, not being able to read Katakana and Hiragana is hugely detrimental. There are times when there is no English to be found. It can be very confusing to figure out basic things that we take for granted. Take our trip to the supermarket the other day. I bought what I thought was detergent based on where it was located in the store. Turns out it was bleach. Looking on the bright side, at least it wasn't douche.
Just because it looks like beef, doesn't mean it is. The other day we ordered take-out from pictures on a menu. We ordered one dish that looked like chicken and rice and another that appeared to be stir-fried beef with vegetables. The chicken dish was true to its appearance but the "beef" turned out to be liver. Yuck! That encouraged me to learn to read a little.
Japanese people have an incredible sense of personal style. People here are typically not only well put together but they also have individuality. You hardly ever see the cookie cutter Gap, Macy's or Banana Republic looks that are ubiquitous back home. I've only seen one mess so far - a tragic old queen, sunning himself shirtless in Abercrombie shorts and a gold lame belt. Given that I have probably seen 500,000 people, that's not a bad ratio. He also inspired the title for my future book, should I ever write one - "Abercrombie Doesn't Make You Look Younger. Moisturizing Does".
Japanese love kids. People seem to adore children here. Loads of people will smile and wave and coo at Elly. She of course is soaking up the attention like a sponge! I'm trying to teach her to say "Konichiwa" so she can say "hi" in Japanese but that is a bit of a mouthful for an 18-month old.

My first impressions are that we are really going to relish our time here. How much of the Japanese language that I will actually learn remains to be seen. I can, however, at least assure you that I won't accidentally buy any liver scented douche.

The Road to Fatherhood Part Three: Just the Right Fit

CattyDaddy — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 05:00:00 GMT