Looking Back, Looking Ahead

2007. What a year it was! Like an angel, it had glorious wings.

I rang in the new year forging ahead with my Nepal adoption and in April the doors were shut. They suspended all international adoptions. In late April I signed on to adopt from Uz and it's been fast forward ever since. I started this blog in May with only my parents and sister as readers and now I have some of the best blogging buddies a gal could ask for. Heck, I even have a blogging buddy in Qatar. Throughout the year many on my blogroll have received referrals, some have returned home with their bundles of joy, others have started their second or third adoption, and some continue to be amazed by the wonders that their children bring into their daily lives.

I spent a few months working on my dossier. Found out where my city's Free Clinic is located for the medical portion of the dossier. Even got asked on a date by a guy there while I was waiting to get my STD testing done. Go figure. I somehow swept through the fingerprinting process, got approved by the gov, another miracle in and of itself, and my dossier hightailed it to my baby's homeland where it currently resides.

Even today I'm still getting annoying emails and postal mail from adoption agencies that I briefly communicated with. I have since told them I've moved on, but like all the stalkers I've had, they just don't get the message.

As this is the last post for 2007, I want to end it not only walking down memory lane but looking ahead.

2008, in a word, promises to be GREAT.

I'll turn 40, bring home baby, and get my adoption novel completed.

So, on the wings of a lovely, lovely angel, I bid 2007 sayonara and 2008 hello.

I've Got to Go Potty

Yes, yes, I know I may have a potty mouth but really, at heart, I'm just a public-potty-phobe. I hate the idea of potty germs floating around me. That's why when I go to public restrooms I never talk, chew gum, or breathe through my mouth. My mouth is clamped shut. I don't want strangers' fecal germs getting inside me.

So, as you can see, I have a fear of public bathrooms.

My greatest fear is what to do when I absolutely must go and I have baby with me. How do I put her on my lap while trying to do my business? And more importantly, how do I make sure she doesn't go all Britney Spears on me and walk/crawl around the bathroom floors?! Or even get all Larry Craig on me and try to get into the next stall over.

Well, you all should know me well enough by now to know that I've found the perfect solution! It's these adorable hanging baby swings with door hooks. How cool is that?!

Rest assured I ordered mine already. I still wish I had thought of this, but whatever.

Oh... and speaking of going potty. How cool are these $425 pills that turn your poop gold!!!!! It's a perfect gift for someone who has everything and wouldn't mind parading around his/her gold poop for the world to see. Here's the website for the product if you're so inclined to indulge.

I'm Eggnogged Out

Stick a fork in me, I'm done for the holiday season. But hopefully ya'll had a great holiday!

I managed to contribute to the trillion dollar credit card debt, unintentionally do donuts on the interstate, harassed mall elves by forcing them to do the elf dance with me, spent my holiday bonus on a botched botox job, and other unmentionables that aren't worth talking about.

The bottom line is that this holiday season was the capper for a helluva year. But dontcha worry. Now that I've completed the dossier process this summer/fall and have nothing to do adoption-wise, I'll be all rested up for the Easter festivities.

Money's Tight This Season Ya'll

Friends and Family,

This adoption process is depleting my funds. I need to save whatever cash I have for my trip overseas to meet my little angel.

Having said that, I really can't afford to buy my usual extravagant gifts for you all. So, this year I decided to make some for everyone. Not the traditional knitted scarves because not all of you live where it snows and it just takes too long for me to knit. So I decided to make slippers. After all, we can all use those!

I will be making [maxi pad] bedroom slippers for you all as gifts. (see picture on the left) Please let me know your sizes.

Awaiting your response. It's crucial that I get the right size for each one of you.



Happy Holidays!

Hugs and Kisses,
Tasha

Buying Gifts for the In-Country Staff

It's that time of year. The time when stores are having their Once-A-Year-Only-MEGA-SALE. And dammit, I'm going to milk it for all I can and buy all the gifts that I need for my trip to meet my bundle of joy. So I made a list of what to buy. Here goes:

Whiskey for the men.
Perfume for the women.
Sport watches for men.

Coin purses for women.

Okay, I had problems with this one. There just aren't any great ones out there.

And then I came across some unique but gorgeous mink or beaver or whatever coin purses. I figured the fur part would add a nice glamour touch to the gift.
They feel soft and luxurious.

And then I opened it.



And then I closed it and put it back on the display table.

Scarves, I thought. Yes, scarves will be great gifts and they take up less room in the luggage.

Wanna Wrestle on the Map?

It's that time of year again for holiday parties. And at those parties, the endless stream of adoption questions.

"Where is it you're adopting from? A-buck-a-man? U-mounted-Stan? What's the name???'

Me: Um, Uzbekistan.

And then you have to point it out on the map. Now that can get tricky if you are presented with pre-WW2 maps or whatnot. So, here's my trick... look for the picture in the shape.

(I know some of you have seen the last four.. but not the first. I drew it this a.m.)

Ta da!!! Look for the country shaped like a sumo wrestler! Or..
Resting camel that's facing Eastward. Or..
a dead bird... Or..
A seahorse, of course.. And finally,
A happy crab!

File This Under: D'oh! Why Didn't I Think of This

Hot damn.

The one thing the waiting process has afforded me was time to explore Momtrepreneur ideas.

And what's really annoying is that all these New and Improved products out on the market are things I thought of a looooooong time ago. Okay, that's not really true but do me a favor and act like it is.

Johnson and Johnson has a new Sleeping Lotion out for babies. It's essentially the same baby lotion but infused with lavendar, which we all know has a calming effect. There's a pacifier that has a shell around it so when it falls out of the baby's mouth and hits the ground, it closes, thus keeping out the icky germs. That's an easy-peasy design. The case just sits on the baby's mouth and when there's nothing to hold it open, it closes.

I mean.. Hello?!?! what's left for me to invent?? Ice cold towelettes to put on your kid's head when s/he's having a temper tantrum? It's a well known fact that cold water shocks people into silence. ((Okay.. so this may have been declassified by the U.S. Army after questionable torture practices.. but nevertheless... it works.)

And now the Japanese have introduced baby mop. How ingenious is this??! I mean, the baby's crawling after all, so you might as well get some mileage out of it. I bet this inventor is going to make a killing from it, if marketed right.

And for those who don't have any hardwood floors, just carpeting, baby will just be generating static electricity. Which.. EUREKA!!!!! could be used to help power all the Christmas lights! All she has to do is crawl around and then touch the lights and viola! they're on.

Of course, it would be the responsible thing to do is to make sure the onesie baby is wearing is inflammable.

Teaching Our Kids Anatomy - Nature Style

If you're like me, you want your child to know about the human body and understand how it works. I was looking at some toys and realized that even though some are sophisticated (and by that I mean, it 'drinks' water and 'pees' it), they just don't tell kids about the body. I mean, look at Barbie, How the heck is she to be educating young kids. I mean, seriously, how do a kidney, liver, sm. and lg. intestines, spleen, stomach, bladder, and whatever else the hell we have inside of us fit into Barbie's 2 cm. waist??

So, I found this nifty educational toy. For starters, living out here in the midwest where my autumns are spent counting the number of dead deer on the side of the road and summers by trying to ride my bike fast enough to outpedal the stench of roadkill, this toy is perfect.

Also, this toy doesn't show anything my daughter's not going to see by just looking out the driveway. Furthermore, it could be a great learning toy to get her jump-started on a career as a vet.

I introduce to you, the Road Kill Toy. According to the website, "Our Squash-plush range looks like roadkill. Feels like roadkill. And tastes like roadkill. But they’re not. They’re plush toys. Very macabre plush toys. It’s the way we make them that makes them seem so real. The blood and guts and gore are made using the latest high-tech stuffing and plush, to give it quite a realistic squidgy effect.

The body and head and legs are made from specially sourced plush material, that gives them that tactile quality of mangy fur. The body is partly stuffed with beads, to give it extra dead weight. And unlike real roadkill it’s something you’ll want to take home and arrange on your bed."

You know, the fact that it 'tastes' like roadkill (whatever that means), might be a good way to teach kids not to put rancid meat into their mouths.

Just a thought.

Who Lit the Fuse on Your Tampon?

Waiting's a bitch. It sucks and you have to deal with crappy questions everyday. "When are you traveling?" "Do you have a baby yet?" yadda yadda yadda. It grows old after the first hour and then it gets to the point where you start getting cranky and moody.

Most people file your attitude under 'must be that time of the month.' Actually, that's putting it mildly. Most people are thinking 'Holy Shit. Who lit the fuse on her tampon?!?!' Well, get used to it because it's going to be that time of month from now until I get on the big bird to fly across the ocean.

And speaking of 'that time of month'and traveling, I discovered a great gadget to take along on one's trip that provides extra feminine protection. It's the Pink Stinger (pictured, above left), a stun gun creatively disguised as a tampon...except for the buttons, prods and high voltage. This weapon of mass absorption can be used to protect your precious bundles of joy (baby or dossier) when some scary looking man looks like he's going to make a grab for them and run.

Now you can just yank out (from your purse, not elsewhere, um, on or in the body) the Pink Stinger and taser the bad man. Although at first he might just be grossed out or confused that your are going to do something to him with a tampon of all things, but once he comes out of his stunned stupor, he'll be none the wiser.

And ladies, just a friendly reminder, do NOT use this as a tampon. It will hurt.

Just You Wait. We'll Win Season 16

For reals, peeps. Baby and I are so going to win this reality show mom/daughter beauty contest during Season 15. The CW network debuted the new series last night: Crowned: Mother of All Beauty Pageants.

Each week, the 11 desparately pathetic, yet peroxided-to- pass-as-conventential-beauty mom/daughter teams compete in challenges that prepare them for the ultimate goal of wearing a $1.98 piece of faux diamond tiaras - from tasks such as engaging in catty hair grabbing matches with french manicured nails, name calling on a 5-word maximum vocabulary, and dressing like $3 call girls that would make even the $2 call girls cringe.

Nonono. I kid! I kid!

The challenges on this intellectually stimulating show are those such as branding a style via costumes and swimwear to creating ways to express their view on world issues.

Whatevs. It still sounds like a winner. Be sure to watch us on Season 15. Here are some recent TV critics' reviews:

"...Because the CW's "Crowned: The Mother of All Beauty Pageants" debuts tonight and I'm telling you, as a television consumer and a human being, the center will not hold. Reality TV is no longer an option. The genre has officially hit the seventh level of hell."-- Mary McNamara, Los Angeles Times

"There's something a little creepy about these family units. These mothers, in their 40s and 50s, admire their offspring to the point of worship yet also seem envious of them, doing everything medically possible to look like their daughters."-- John Maynard, Washington Post

"If "Crowned" were a doughnut, it would be stale, greasy and not worth the calories....[The] critiques from [judges Shannon] Moakler and [Cynthia] Garrett that are so vague and nonsensical ("Your name is your brand. Tell us what we don't know."), they make Paula Abdul sound like a doctoral candidate."-- Karla Peterson, San Diego Union-Tribune

"...The real-life drama and heartaches of mother-daughter teams competing for a pageant crown--because it's their last chance for happiness. For real."-- Ira Madison, Radar

Spreading the Love, Olsen Style

I'm still looking for cute little gifts for my bundle of joy. I want to spread positive, self-affirming messages to her as she grows. Because let's face it, life's not going to be easy. For starters, there's the adoption issue. Why doesn't she look like mommy? Okay, granted that mommy may have been around quite a few blocks, that the whispers most likely will be 'ohhh.. maybe baby got her looks from mommy's one-night adventure.' And then there's the single mommy issue she'll have to endure.

The list is endless.

As a young girl, I always found comfort in Kewpie dolls. They are so cute, strange, and just downright lovable. What's not to like?

You'll recall those Kewpie dolls that are promoting bondage, we'll now there's one that's aimed for young girls. What says 'friendship' more than young girls sharing and bonding over the torturous world of non-existent cottage cheese thighs and muffin tops? Teen Vogue and Seventeen magazines do monthly features of the close friendships that are formed over the daily trip to commode, head first.

Purging=friendship.

So.. here's to the latest fashion trend... aneroxia Kewpie.

Party Fun for Baby, Party Dissing Fun for Mommy

There's always that one family that outdoes the rest of the block or school when it comes to their kid's parties. They have the more extravagant, more fun, more lively party. In the playground circles, it's the most talked about social event of the year.

Forget trying to convince your kid that friendship and popularity is based on personality. Unless you hire a party planner, you can be sure that your lame-assed cupcake party with pin-the-tail on the donkey is going to scream 'welfare family.'

So, I'm prepared for this. There's no way in hell I'm going to pay for an event planner for my kid's birthday when that money can be better spent on necessities such as botox and martinis for mommy. In any case, I found a rental (shhhh) that will not only soar my daughter's popularity through the stratosphere, but mommy's too.

So.. here's my plan. You see that lovely Pikachu balloony-bouncy thingy pictured above? Well, for starters I love all things Japanese, since I lived there for many years. Anyhoo.. I'm ordering that for my daughter's birthday party next year.

When little Johnny or Susie from 'the nicer side of the tracks' calls for Daddy to join them inside Ms. Tasha Kent's Pikachu, I'm going to look over at the wife, smirk and wink.

After all, look at where the entry into Ms. Tasha Kent's Pikachu is located. There's only one way in, and one way out.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrowl.

When I've Got the Baby Blues, I Eat a Pie

File this under one of the top 10 reasons why adoption beats out pregnancy.

The following is a trend that I'm soooo glad I'm missing out on. There's an alarming number of women who believe that one way of dealing with post-partum depression is for a new mom to eat her own placenta. The practice, placentophagy, seems to be a trend that's making strides. According to a story on MSNBC today, 80% of new moms suffer from post-partum depression, aptly named the "baby blues." The theory is that devouring the placenta helps them feel better but there are no studies on the efficacy of the practice for humans. "The placenta does produce estrogen and progesterone," says Mavis Schorn, the director of the nurse midwifery program at Vanderbilt University School of Nursing. "So the theoretical idea is that it may help, but there's absolutely no research on it."

There's a whole Google category of recipe suggestions for the placenta.. things such as grinding it up and adding it to lasagne or use it as a pizza topping.

By the way, I've taken the liberty of uploading a picture of a human placenta... just so you know how gross it is. I mean, this is what some people are adding to their frigging pizzas!


I'd like to point out that there are studies that have proven that adoptive moms tend to suffer from post-adoption depression as well. It's been well-documented and some moms have even written about it.

However, I'd like to think that when they (or, soon to be 'we') get depressed, we take the high road and devour a box of tasty and chocolately Ho-Hos and Ding Dongs. And as we are eating them, we realize what funny names those delicious snacks are and laugh ourselves silly by abbreviating them and singing 'I'm a Ho eating a Dong.'

I guess how one battles post-partum or post-adoption depression is a personal choice. My preference would be with a pitcher of margaritas and a box of Ho Hos. Others, I suppose, would prefer to save womb for dessert.

Bottom line is that food is the answer to all of life's miseries.

If Happy Cows Make Better Cheese, Then...

Nonono.. this isn't a breast milk posting. Sheesh. You people have no faith in me.

What I am trying to say is that fatter babies make happier kids. So for my adoption, I'll take an order of a fat baby to go, please.

According to a recent study, smaller infants were prone to a life of anxiety and depression. Right now, I'm figuring that's about right as I was a big infant myself and I'm pretty happy and stress-free. Or, rather, I just don't give a rat's ass about much.

But I really do question the merits of this study.

I have a friend who is thin and gorgeous to boot, (she was a small baby) and she's so happy that she's practically pissing rainbows and unicorns (of course, half the time she's as high as a kite.. but that's besides the point). I have another friend who was a big baby and her therapist practically has a restraining order against her.

So, I ask you...
a) were you a big baby and are depressed out of your skull?
b) were you a big baby and think life is full of sunshine and puppy dogs?
c) were you a small baby and are happy go lucky?
d) were you a small baby and think living and loving are for the strong and brave?

When Kids' Toys Go Bad (and by 'bad', I mean 'ooooh so bad' grrrowl)

I don't even know where to begin. Or even how to start this blog post while maintaining the high sense of decorum and dignity that you all have come to expect from me as a blogger.

But let me try this approach ... you know how some things are marketed for one purpose but you and/or McGuyver find many other purposes for it? For example nail polish is used to color nails but can be used to stop a run on your pantyhose; a jelly jar was intended to hold jelly but is more often used as a flower vase; milk crates are converted to bookcases; wire hangers can be used to break into cars; etc. etc. You get my drift. Okay.. hold on to that. I'm going to come back to it.

You also may recall that I've been looking into cute little girly-girl gifts and the ultimate princess idol is Hello Kitty. If you are new to this blog, feel free to visit the posting about how Hello Kitty has the ultimate bad girl gift... a gun.

But I think I've come across something more 'feral' regarding Hello Kitty. It's getting to the point where the Hello Kitty people need to revisit their marketing plan. I mean, I can't be giving my daughter Hello Kitty gifts AT ALL. It just ain't right. In fact, it's downright criminal.


Case in point, Sanrio, the Hello Kitty people, have reintroduced the Hello Kitty line of shoulder massages. Now, these skinny and vibrating pink shafts were a HUGE seller in the 70s when they were first introduced. Can you imagine why? Well, that takes me back to the first paragraph.

According to today's NYT's article, "The vice president for marketing for Sanrio’s American division, Andrea Sobel, stands by the wholesome intentions of the Hello Kitty brand. “I have no idea what people may have used it for,” she said. “The product was marketed as a shoulder massager. That’s what it was sold as.”

Yeah. Right. Just like I'm sure the people who sell Rubber Cement glue are convinced that people only buy it to glue two slabs of paper together.

New Diaper Rash Cure.. better yet, Feast on My Butt

It's dry here in Vegas but back home it's freezing. Both conditions are enough to make me one big bundle of flaking skin and super cracked lips. Which, in turn, makes me think of painful diaper rash. Which, in turn, makes me worry about my little bundle of joy and how I need to find the next best thing to Desitin, the diaper rash creme.

So, I searched high and low for what's the next sanitary invention that's going to keep my babylove's bottom nice and smooth and pain-free. And get this.. I found it! Better yet, it's indigenous to Uzbekistan!

It's called doctor fish. These little fishies are native to the rivers of the Middle East and Central Asia.

In Japan, spa goers suffering from a variety of skin ailments, most notably psoriasis, come to have their problem areas picked clean by the hungry doctor fish. The cute little fishy-wishy will pick at dead and affected areas of the skin, which allows the healthy skin to grow in its place.

Supposedly the feeding sessions (for the fish) cure most skin conditions and it's rather therapeutic.

I checked with a bunch of pet stores and they don't carry them. You need a special export license. Furthermore, aquarium conditions are also unsuitable for doctor fish as they'll only feast on human flesh when they're in a natural enclosure.

For Those Who I'll Meet Next Week

Hey bloggers... I'm off bright and early tomorrow morning for LV and LA, for a little bit of business and a little bit of pleasure.

The good news is that I'm going to be meeting some fellow adoptive parents on this journey. So, for those I'm going to be meeting, here's a recent snapshot of me, so you'll be able to recognize me at the coffeehouse or restaurant.

Can't wait to meet you all!

Hugs and kisses,
Tasha

Fantastic Adoption Fundraising Idea

Hey all you prospective adoptive parents.. are you still struggling to raise money for your adoption? Have you exhausted all the crafts fair, garage sale, flea market, candy bar selling, magazine subscription campaigns, home equity loan stretch, and other ideas of the like?

Well, fear not, because I just came across a new novel idea. I can't believe I didn't think of this before!

Meet Maria Carolina from Chile (pictured, above right). Miss Carolina is a Chilean prostitute who has become an instant celebrity in the Roman Catholic country after auctioning 27 hours of sex to raise money for a disabled children's charity.

Miss Carolina, who charges $300 for a 90-minute session, estimated that she would raise more than $4000.

"I've already auctioned off the 27 hours," the prostitute said. "One of my clients already paid. It seemed like a good deed to him."

Hot damn... girlfriend charges $300 for 90 minutes. I'd be lucky if I could get away with charging $5, or a Big Mac Value Meal equilvalent.

So sadly, the bottom line for me is that I need to go back to selling magazine subscriptions.

When Recycling Ideas Go Bad

I'm all for recycling and saving the planet. I plan to teach my daughter the value of recycling and hope to ensure she lives a green-friendly life. But the following is just, for a lack of better words, frigging disgusting.

The latest hair trend in China? Used condoms!

Condoms are being recycled into hair elastics in Southern China because, well, they're super cheap. And if you thought that was gross, wait till you hear this: Health officials say there is a considerable risk for transmitting bacteria, HPV, or HIV through oral contact (when girls put the elastic in their mouths when gathering their hair for a ponytail) or through open wounds on fingers (from nail biting, paper cuts, etc.).

Okay... I just have to ask... how does one recycle used condoms? Do you put them in the blue container to leave out curbside for weekly pick up? After getting-it-on with a lady friend, does the guy say 'honey, don't mind the smell of rotting used condoms I have in my recycling bin, it was a holiday this week so trash pick up isn't until next Friday. Sorry luv.'

I dunno about this concept. I'm leaning toward shaving my daughter's hair so she won't need hairbands or resorting to using latex (oops.. I hope these are made from recycled used condoms) gloves when putting them in her hair.

Why is motherhood getting harder and harder by the day? Toys being recalled, food being tainted, and now hairbands.

Come Tag Along

Beverly over in China and Vietnam asked me to post 8 random things about myself (note to Tami and Haze, your tag is next). It's kind of hard, considering I've basically spilt my guts out to you folks since day one. In any case, here goes:

1. I have blonde hair, which may or may not be my real hair color.
2. My living room is sage green.
3. My drapes don't match the carpet.
4. Or maybe they do.
5. You guys are nasty peeps. I'm talking about the overall home decor.
6. Or maybe I'm not.
7. I am... Not. okay, I am. Maybe.
8. I hate the color of my drapes.

Shout Out to Jen

Jen, over in Vietnam, received a referral for an adorable son!! Three cheers for her and hubby.

Baby boy is going to have a fantastic life because his nutritionist mom is going to make sure he gets all his recommended dosage of daily vitamins and minerals along with a fridge full of fresh fruits and veggies.

On top of that, he's going to have some cool babysitters... a bunch of special forces studs!

Hey Ladies... Road Trip!!!

Woohoo… come on ladies, back your bags, we’re going on a beach safari… cougar style.

What better way to beat off the winter-time blues? Plus, it’ll be our last hurrah before getting a referral and bringing home baby.

According to a Reuters article, the ‘It’ place to be for women in their ‘autumn years’ (okay, that’s not us… but it will be, in about 20 years or so) is Kenya.

According to Bethan (obviously not her real name) from England, Kenya is “a country just full of big young boys who like us older girls.”

Bethan’s traveling companion, Allie, 64, also enjoyed her time in Kenya.

The article states, “Walking on the beach, Allie resting her white haired-head on the shoulder of her companion, a six-foot-four 23-year-old from the Maasai tribe.

He wore new sunglasses he said were a gift from her.

"We both get something we want -- where's the negative?" Allie asked in a bar later.

Bethan kept one eye on her date -- a 20-year-old playing pool, a red bandana tying back dreadlocks and new-looking sports shoes on his feet.

He looked up and came to join her at the table, kissing her, then collecting more coins for the pool game.”

Okay… I just looked up the cost of a round-trip ticket to Kenya. I gotta scratch that from my list.

Anyhooo… speaking of road trips, I’m going to be in Las Vegas and Los Angeles for the next few weeks. Any PAP or AP or whatever bloggers out there that wants to meet for coffee?

And seriously, this time by ‘coffee’ , I really mean ‘coffee.’

I Know What I'm Getting You for Christmas

Did you all have a nice Thanksgiving weekend? I sure did. I relaxed, stuffed my tummy, shopped ‘til I dropped, and ‘met’ my Qatar buddy.

During my break, I also did a lot of research about medical ailments that are common in orphanages, shots needed before traveling, and then I thought I’d figure out what’s causing me to break out into hives everyday in my own home. Hence, I learned about bed bugs, dust mites, tape worm, salmonella, the flu, Lyme disease, mad cow, herpes, and other minor irritants. No biggie, really. And they’re quite common. (Although not necessarily all together in the same home… but that’s a minor point.)

And as I was researching these regular visitors, I saw that some genius came up with a novel way of turning those bodily invaders into cuddly friends. How cool is that? Stuffed animals shaped as diseases. According to the website, “(the stuffed critters) make great learning tools for parents and educators.”

What’s a mom to do on the night when her daughter decides to snuggle with Syphilis (pictured, above)?

All Tied Up

It's Thanksgiving time and I'm giving myself a 4 day holiday from blogging. I'm tied up with company coming to my house, a nursery room to decorate, a huge holiday meal to prepare, and a conference to organize. So as you can see, I'm busier than a stripper at a bachelor's party.

Oh, speaking of being tied up and strippers, I came across this nifty little cellphone charm the other day. It's got that nice and naughty appeal. Or, should I say 'nice and knotty'?

I'm actually a bit disturbed about the whole S&M theme on my favorite childhood doll. But on the other hand, I'm actually pretty impressed with the knot-work.

Knowing me, if I were to engage in a bit of bondage, I'd probably be so flustered and end up reciting 'the bunny ear goes through the loop, around the tree' just trying to tie a single, solitary frigging knot. And with the sing-songy nursery school melody that I just sang, the guy would most likely just freak out and think he's getting it on with a intellectually-challenged chick and high-tail it out of the room.

Sigh.

Oh yeah, Happy Thanksgiving!

Without You, It's Just a Meaningless Queue

A Love Letter to A Faithful Visitor of this Blog:

Dearest You,

If 'you' didn't show up, the 'queue' on my counter letting me know who visited my blog would just be meaningless.

And without you, my loyal and faithful Qatar visitor, the U in the name of your home would just render the Q meaningless.

It's you... Qatar.

But, I, on the other hand, am just a pile of an emotional mess and cannot stand without you. I am on tethered ends until I see that you have come for a visit. My faithful stat queue tells me you visit everyday between the hours of 2-6pm**

Who are you Qatar? Are you a man of the vast desert like Lawarence of Arabia? Or perhaps you're like Indiana Jones who is on sabbatical in Qatar researching the archaeological excavation in Doha? Or.. perhaps you are an expat of royal descent living large in the fine peninsula. Or maybe your are a lonely billionaire sheik? Or, perhaps you are a woman, a fellow adoptive parent, looking for someone who shares a journey similar to yours?

Please just give me a glimpse into who you are. I don't need a name or address, just a little story of you. Post a comment or send an email, and I promise you I'll feel fulfilled.


Fondly,
Tasha ... from a land far, far away

**Although I must admit that you've been getting a bit lazy lately and have been showing up later and later. What is it? Another blogger? Are you starting to grow tired of me? Is it my breath? Oh god.. please don't leave me. I beg you to stay.

When I Die - The Disney Version

Here I am about to bring a child into the world, or something like that, so what am I doing thinking about death? Well, I have to make sure everything is covered and that my massive wealth (of junk, that is) is distributed evenly amongst my heirs. I want to make sure my beloved gravy boat is sent along with my 100+ dolls from the Marie Osmond collection to my brother and my sister will inherit my Barry Manilow shrine.

In any case, back to my death. I have very strict rules in my will that states during my funeral, I am to be butt naked, propped up on a chair, and facing the audience. Of course my legs will be crossed because, after all, I’m a lady. And while my coffin is being lowered into the grave, I want KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Get Down Tonight” to be blaring.

Strike that. I’ve decided I want to be cremated. In fact, while I’m being burned I want Bruce Springfield’s “I’m on Fire” playing. How poetic is that? And then I want my ashes taken to the happiest place on earth. Not the bunny ranch Reno but the happy place in Orlando. On a ride called It’s a Small World. I know it sounds goofy. (get it? Goofy/Disney) And it’s obviously not an original idea. According to a Disney spokesperson there’s a lot of unidentified gunk resembling human remains in the water at the Pirates of Caribbean ride.

Of course I could never dump someone’s ashes on that ride. Word is that Americans are getting too fat for the ride. Increasingly, overweighted boats get to certain points in the ride and bottom out, becoming stuck in the flume. The ride monitors must then track down the stuck boat and attempt tactfully to help a rider or two to exit at one of the emergency platforms. Oh the horror as my fat ass and I waddle out the emergency exit! And then I’d be stuck with an urn of ashes still. Maybe I could toss them during the Parade at Night.

In any case, ya'll more than invited to my going away party.

May I Have the Envelope Please?

Ohmygod, ohmygod. You guys!! YOU GUUUUYS!!!!!

You shouldn't have.
Okay, you should have.

When Susan informed me that I was being "flamed," I thought 'aw shit. Not again. Now what?' Because as we all know, getting flamed means: "to issue an argument, generally through some written medium. Origin: discussion groups on the Internet. Flames are usually emotional rather than objective in nature. People generally flame each other about issues of opinion, insisting that their opinion is the correct one."

What caused it this time?? Are the anti-NRA people after me? The Jesus freaks? Sesame Street? Hookers union? Those who go to the Free Clinic to pick up chicks?

But then the lovely Susan pointed out that I need to pay attention.. I was being HONORED with The Blogger Flame of Fortitude. Awwww shucks, Suze! Bless your heart.

According to the award, "You are receiving this honor because you have embodied perseverance in the face of difficulty and shared the journey of your experiences with others proving that a single voice can both be a light of support and a source or humor for those in the midst of their struggle. You are acknowledged here today for allowing others to share in your personal story and providing camaraderie through the power of your words."

In return and to keep with Susan's paying it forward philosophy, I'd like to honor the beautiful Jocelyn. In the few months that I have 'known' Jocelyn, she has been inspiring and gracious in the time of wonderful jubilance and incomprehensible grief. And yet she still soliders on with grace, dignity, appreciation, and a wonderful and awe-inspiring spirit.

Here's to you Jocelyn! And to Susan, who's been in Jocelyn's shoes, here's wishing you a wonderful homecoming with your baby girl.

You Can Buy Uz

At a cost, of course. Something around $28 million. Granted it's not the 'real' country but an entire island shaped like it (which, incidently, is shaped like a camel, crab, seahorse, and bird). In any case, I wish I had an extra $28 mil to spare because I would so totally buy the rock and make it my private crib.

Actually, I really have no idea if Uz is even available. I can't find it on the map of available countries below (available islands are in blue). Click here if you want to buy a country in "The World" off the coast of Dubai.

I'm Going to Tashkent!!!!!!

Well, not really. But I kinda, sorta am. In a round about kind of way. Or even an incestous way.

Evidently Seattle is the sister city of Tashkent. So in reality, it's the closest I'll get to Uzbekistan this year.

And the sad truth is that Seattle is just a airport stopover. It's not even a 'real' stop during my business trip in a few weeks.

It's a Hassle...

Everything is a hassle. It's a hassle trying to get your dossier together. It's a hassle trying to keep an adoption budget without having panic attacks and it's a frigging hassle to trying to come up with a sexy 250th post.

But like my 25th birthday, my 250th post will be a dud with a stud. Yes, my party was a dud but my boyfriend at the time was a stud. (Okay, that's so far from the truth, it's not even funny. He was a dud but I loved his Spanish accent.)

But the point I'm trying to make is that everything up to now has had me in a trance. I would spend hours focusing on the entire adoption process trying to make heads and tails out of it all that I would just blank out and get dizzy. Sometimes a co-worker would say 'hey, Tash! Do I have a booger on my cheek?? You've been staring at it for the last two minutes.' And then I'd snap out of it and realize that I wasn't even 'looking' at anything, I was brain-dead, in a fog, in a trance. And if there really was a booger on the said person's cheek, I would start to hallucinate that it was dancing and singing.

Anyhow, my head hurts and my eyes sting. I've been online too long researching all things adoption and Uzbek. Sometimes I think I see something and understand it all and then I realize, upon deeper inspection, that it's not all what it seems to be.

You know, kind of like seeing a piece of fruit and once you bite into it, you realize it's plastic.

Anyhow, this is what it's like.

A Journey of 6444 Miles Begins with the First Step

It's 6,444 miles from Cleveland, OH to Tashkent, UZ. In order to make this waiting period easier, I decided to take on a goal. I'm going to walk, run, tap dance, tap my toes to music, stairclimb, and elliptical my way to my baby.

It is believed that 2000 steps equals one mile. So that means I need to make contact with the ground 12 million 888 thousand times.

If I did 10,000 steps a day, that means it would take me 1,288 days (or about 4 years). Well, screw that. I'm taking you guys along with me. All your steps count too.

Who's in?

Okay... let's get started.

The Sweet Taste of Crap - A Shower Gift

Why couldn't I have thought of this?? I mean, my mind is twisted enough to actually have thought of it but my brains weren't nifty enough to market it. In any case, I introduce you to some delectable and delicious chocolate.

This is a perfect baby/adoption shower gift - especially if you're having a co-ed one, like me. Guys love this nasty crap (ha ha.. get it?).

This is a recipe that would be great with this gift at the adoption shower:

Potty Jello
Purchase the plastic bowl that fits in a child's potty training chair (they sell them at places like K-Mart). Wash the bowl and prepare lemon jello per package directions. Float miniature O-Henry bars in it, refrigerate, and serve.

This stuff actually reminds me of the kitty litter cake that I made once for a friend who adopted a cat. The guys loved it and the women were grossed out.

Oh.. and speaking of gross out, my next post is number 250. It's a quarter of 1000 so I think I should celebrate it... kind of like my 200th post. Any suggestions? Or do you guys just want to be surprised?

Perky Toys

What's a girl to do while waiting for a referral? Well, she starts buying her precious bundle of love one-of-a-kind toys. And what kind of toys does an ultra-hip, super-sexy mommy buy? Well, toys that accentuate mommy's best features, of course.

Ladies, I introduce you to the quintet of Funwari Milk-chan - soft plush breast characters. Having spent most of my 20s in Japan, I tend to favor all things Japanese.

Anyhow, back to the toys. Each one of the five has its own perky personality (ha ha.. perky.. get it?). There's Gyaru-chan who sports the Ganguro style popularized by Japanese girls: a deep tan with white lipstick and white eyeshadow. She also has a pierced nipple. There's Funwari Milk-chan who loves collagen and taking naps, Peach Milk-chan who hates spiders, Can Milk-san who is a celebrity entertainer with an American boyfriend, and Milko-chan who is still just a baby.

As with most Japanese cute characters, an entire mythology and lifestyle has been created for the "Fluffy Milk" boobies. The quintet live in milk houses in the Milk Village, which is situated at the base of forested Milk Mountain. They speak the Milk language.

These adorable beanie boobies are being sold at retailers for about 1000 yen ($9 bucks) each. There's also an itty bitty titty (ha ha.. I'm killing myself here), a smaller version just 2.5 inches wide that includes a ball-chain to hang your keys on. They only cost 480 yen ($4.30) each.

I'm very curious to find out if it's cold in the room, do the toys perk up?

Wearing the Hiding Places, Part 2

The scariest part of international adoption, in my opinion, is the arriving at a foreign country with 10 grand in crisp one hundred dollar bills. On top of that, you have the original paperwork of your dossier with you. So in essence, your entire life and life savings is on your person.

Naturally, one would be a tad bit nervous walking around in a foreign country with such things - especially if said country was not known for being crime-free.

Lo and behold, Ms. Tsukioka came up with another clever design - a purse that looks like a manhole cover.

So if you're ever being pursued by a band of thieves or gang of hooligans while carrying your life savings and dossier in your purse, just throw your purse on the street and the bad boys will be none the wiser.

Forget Recalling Them, Send 'Em to Me!

Now this is my type of recalled toy. For starters, it's lightyears safer than the poisonous lead-tainted toys from China.

According to an Australian newspaper report, there's a toy that when ingested, the chemicals on it reacts to those in the human body thus creating the party drug GHB.

The toy, Bindeez, is a craft kit made up of colorful beads that can be assembled to create designs like flowers, rainbows, and unicorns - which actually seems perfectly suited for its deliriously wigged-out side effects.

On the down side, it should be noted that three kids were hospitalized after swallowing some of the beads.

Best. Travel. Insurance. Investment. Ever.

Are travelling soon to places far and remote to pick up your little bundle of love? Are you a bit nervous about travelling to a war torn country? Or perhaps a country that is known to prey on foreign tourist? Or even perhaps the country to where you are travelling is on the State Department's list of potential terrorist activity.

In any case, fear not because I'd like to introduce you to Aya Tsukioka, 29, the designer/inventor of 'urban camouflage'!

For a mere $800, a small price to pay for your own personal safety, you can be a proud owner of this nifty red skirt (pictured, above) that folds up into a coke vending machine... enabling you to blend into the street scene.

So if you find yourself being pursued by a band of reckless gypsies or a gang of fierce-looking theives... don't worry! Just quickly zip up the dress and blend into the street!

Adoption Stress Busters Part Seven

Are you feeling like the adoption process is just a big old sucker punch in the man parts or quim? (by the way, quim is indeed a word. And it's a naughty word too). Does it feel like this 30 second video?




Adoption Stress Busters Part Six
Adoption Stress Busters Part Five
Adoption Stress Busters Part Four
Adoption Stress Busters Part Three
Adoption Stress Busters Part Two
Adoption Stress Busters Part One

As If This Blog Wasn't Embarassing Enough

I have come across a nifty product that is bound to embarass the crapola out of my daughter in her teen years.

You know those embarrassing baby photos of you buck-naked on a sheepskin rug your mom pulls out to show friends and significant others? Well, just imagine how you'd feel if she used a plaster cast of your baby ass, warts and all, as a paperweight at the office!

Well, that's exactly what I plan to do.

I have no intention of having my daughter pose on a sheepskin rug because it's so overdone. And more importantly, I don't own a sheepskin rug.

However, I do have $80. And for $80 I can memorialize my baby's buttocks as a paperweight - something I plan to use until the day I die.* This lovely baby bottom casting kit comes with everything you need to "immortalise your baby's precious peach!" (their words, not mine)

*Or get killed by a blunt force object such as a baby butt paperweight.

How Much Would This Babysitter Charge?

The babysitting world is a jungle out there. Literally. But more on that later.

When I was growing up, I charged a whooping one dollar an hour to babysit and $1.60 an hour for every frigging hour past midnight.

Nowadays, according to a recent Wall Street Journal article, kids are making $18 an hour to babysit. That's more than a barista makes at Starbucks.

I mean, really, how difficult is it to babysit? You start off playing with the kid for an hour, then you lie and say it's 9pm (when it's really 6pm) and tell them it's time for bed. Of course, you'll mess up their ability to read numbers because of this lie, but that's not your problem. The parents can deal with it after you leave. Once putting the kid to bed, you just watch TV and eat junk food from their pantry.

Well... I think I found a new type of babysitter that won't charge me an arm and a leg. Check it out.

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served...Hot?

Remember when I had that heart-to-heart convo with the Devil? And I wrote about how I may have done, but most likely have not done some psycho stuff to an ex-boyfriend. For creative purposes, I made a suggestion of enrolling him on the IWannaDateAPrisoner website with a picture and all. Or telling everyone the address/phone number of the Free Clinic was his.

Well of all the twisted revenge things I may have done, but most likely have not done, but only wrote about them for creative purposes - I've never done so bad as some lady in England.

According to The Sun, a whacked out lady put dog poo in her man's curry!! I shit you not! (ha ha.. did you like my clever pun there?) How gross is that?!

Something tells me that this guy is in dire need of (again, I'm shitting you not) this nifty product called: Ring of Fire After Curry Wipes. (pictured, above right)

Seriously, how some of these products ever make it onto the shelves of stores is beyond me.

Seriously Hon, No Means No

Is is all the boobage or perhaps my come-hither posts? But this past month I've received tons of emails, invites, and letters from agencies I briefly considered for adoption well over a year ago.

I mean, what gives? Seriously, hon, you can stop buttering my butt and calling me biscuit.

In the 'real world', every guy knows that after a half dozen phones calls and numerous mailed invitations to swanky soirees and she doesn't return your calls and declines your invitations - you ain't gonna get any. Period.

She just isn't into you. Baby found junk in another trunk. Her caboose is riding another train. She closed the door on you and threw out the key. So stop ... just stop bothering her.

99.99% of the male world gets it. They cut their losses and move on. They close the book on her. They say sayonara, adios, au revour, ciao bella.

I mean, if these agencies were a human male and the free consultation phone call had been our first date, he would have understood that there just wasn't any chemistry between us. When he leaned in for a kiss and I ducked away, I assumed that he got the drift that there was no 'us' and he could stop daydreaming of 'us' having kids together. It just wasn't going to happen. And the calls, now bordering on stalking... I told him as kindly as I could that I wasn't interested. How much nicer can I be? In fact I told him that I 'found someone else' and together he (now I'm referring to my current agency as a human male) and I were having a beautiful girl together. I mean, for god's sake .. I'm having another man's baby.

There's no turning back here. I've long passed the point of no return. Baby ain't making no U-turns.

Erase my number from your speed dial, delete my address from your little black book and for god's sake.. stop Googling my name. It's creepy.

Trust me baby when I say it's over.

You. Just. Ain't. Getting. Any.

Color Me Smart

I know young girls. I was one myself just a few years ago. When a lassie hits 16 and the hormones get all out of whacked and boys start calling, that can only mean one thing: trouble.

So... how am I going to be able to monitor my Baby while trying to a) maintain my status as the ultimate hip and understanding mom and b) allowing her some independence and demonstrating my trust?

Very easily, I must say!

After I take down the banana flavored scratch-n-sniff wallpaper (see three entries below), I'm painting the walls with Eclipse paint. This revolutionary paint changes color when heat is applied. So if a young boy thinks he can sneak in a little bit of bodymashing and kissing while planting my baby against the wall, he can think again because I.Will.Know. And that little pimply-face twerpy boy will be out on the street in no time flat.

Athough I gotta admit that when no one is watching, I'm going to plant my big ass on the wall just to see the silhoutted image fade in and then out.

Too cool.

Hugs and Kisses from Tasha

Okay folks, I'm way too busy today to pontificate on the ramifications of international adoption.

Therefore, I'll leave you today with my dossier photo.

Nothing's Too Good for My Baby

Baby's 1st birthday party with circus performers. CHECK
Baby's 2nd birthday party with magicians. CHECK
Baby's own couture line to wear in grade school. CHECK
Baby's $10 million Church Confirmation Party. CHE... wtf???

I stand corrected - somethings are just too good for baby.

While I thought I would be able to give Baby the moon and stars, I find that some daddy has given his daughter a $10 million bat mitzvah. Nevermind that he actually stole the money.

I'm not even sure I can fathom how much $10 million really is. I know I could buy a few islands for that amount. Even reserve a place on the Russian Space program for a trip to the moon. I think I could vaccinate something like 1 billion people from malaria for $10 million. My calculator doesn't even go up to enough digits to let me know the number of kids I could save... but if you're in the mood for doing math - one vaccination is 10 cents.

But $10 million for a one night party?? For a bratty little girl?

According to the NY Post, the daddy's $10 million went to pay for performances by Aerosmith, 50 Cent, Tom Petty, Kenny G and the Eagles. (does a 12 year old girl even know who Aerosmith, Tom Petty, Kenny G., and the Eagles are?????) Daddy even spent $122,000 on iPods and digital cameras for guests.

Damn. The only gifts I ever get as a take-home from 'elaborate' parties are lotions and creams in baskets. I found out last year that all those products can be bought at the frigging Dollar Tree store. Once I even got a Prava bag. Now that's trailer trash gone upscale.

Will Wallpaper Lead to Insanity?

At first I thought this was totally cool - not to mention one-of-a-kind. I really want it for my baby room. The colors are quirky and retro and the concept is fun and childlike.

But now I'm wondering if this will start baby down the road to obsessing over walls. When a guest at someone's house, will she walk up to the walls, plant her nose to it and sniff loudly?

"Janey!" my daughter will yell from across the room to her friend whom she is visiting. "The smell of your walls...what is it? I'm guessing tunafish or a western omelet. Am I right? Am I right?"

And then I imagine that she will be sent home from her friend's house with a note pinned to her shirt saying "Ms. Kent, your daughter might need to seek help as she seems to have a wall fetish. We just don't allow that type of freaky behavior in our house."

I'm still thinking of going with the banana flavored wallpaper. Click here to visit the site.

I'd be in heaven if it came in peanut butter and chocolate.

If You're Happy and You Know It...

Crap your hands!!

God I love toys made overseas. But minus the lead, of course.

If Only Tasha aka Rev. Kent Could Be Smart Enough to Save the World

In the 1970s, my alter ego was Jaime Somers, the Bionic Woman. In the 2000s, it was Sydney Something -- The multi-lingual, multi-haircolored kick-ass super-secret double agent from Alias.

In between those two eras, I was Sandy Kingston from Sunshine Beach Timeshare resorts that called lonely senior citizens between the hours of 9am to 9pm trying to get them to hand over their life savings for a timeshare in Malaysia. Nevermind the time I was Klamee Dia down at the Beaver Hut strip club. Somehow I never made more than $2 in tips.

And in 2007, since I already have a knack for creating really elaborate alter egos with outrageous back stories, It would only make sense for me to use my new personas to do crazy shit on the internet.

But some suburban mom beat me to it.

Meet Shannen Rossmiller (pictured, right). For the past few years she's been doing what the CIA/FBI/Interpol couldn't do - track down terrorists via blogs, chatrooms, instant message, and email.

When 9/11 happened, the mom of three decided to buy a copy of The Koran For Dummies (seriously). From there she started communicating on pro-Arabic, anti-West websites in Arabic by using Google translation software and using repeatitive flowery prose akin to a "Hallmark card for jihads.'

In no time, she's got a few Arabic male aliases and setting up email accounts such as khadija1417@hotmail.com for her Abu Khadija alias and she's buying missiles from jihadis off the internet! (Initially supplied by the Americans in the eighties, natch.) Ironically, over at the FBI, agents are still waiting for approval to open up a simple Yahoo! mail account to create aliases as well.

In no time, Shannen is capturing Al Queda leaders, US Servicemen stationed in Iraq who are trying to help terrorists, wanna-be suicide bombers and a gamut of terrorists.

Her story is incredible. Click here to read about her.

Now if only I could be as productive during my waiting period.

You Too Can Be In a Super Bowl Ad

Sometimes I feel that I talk, talk, talk about all things adoption or adoption-related. I feel that I'm ignoring my pregnant friends or friends (PAPs or non) who have given birth. But I want you to know that I have your interests at heart as well. If I come across something that could enhance and better your life, I'm going to share it... such as this little nugget:

Introfree.com is looking for the right birth video and they're willing to pay 1000 whopping dollars for the rights to use the right video in their 30-second Super Bowl ad.

So, for those of you who want your dilated, laboring vajayjays broadcast to approximately 90 million people, here's your opportunity!

Bear in mind that the video must show "clear baby emergence," (eww) "umbilical cord being severed," and it must include sound. The stunt is meant to announce the "birth" of the website.

Damn. Ewww. Gross. Gag. Talk about taking Super Bowl ads to a whole 'nother level.

I can just picture 90 million football fans stuffing their faces with chips loaded with the 7-layer bean dip as the commercial airs. Poor saps.

It's 10:30pm, Do You Know Where Your Dossier Is?

EDIT: Please note that this is not true. I just think it would be a fortune cookie from hell - like the ones that say 'That wasn't chicken you just ate.'

I'm happy to say that my dossier is safe and sound in Uzbekistan, not Uganda. Although on the flip side, I wouldn't mind adopting from Uganda either.

Vaya Con Dios Adelfa

Remember I told you guys a mere 3 weeks ago about that sassy Latina woman who married her pseudo-adopted son? (click here for a refresher).. you know.. kind of blurring the lines between adoption and marriage. I was secretly rooting for her and thinking that if my toddler adoption doesn't come through, I'd look into a 24 year-old Argentine man to adopt as a pick-me-up-slash-How-Tasha-Go-Her-Groove-Back kind of thing.

Well, the 82-year-old bride passed away after returning from her honeymoon. In my heart of hearts, I hope it was from physical exertion and exhaustion.

May the Heavens bless Adelfa's young soul with an eternity of hot, young, muscled Latin men.