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.