Yay! It's Friday! That means that the weekend is here, Where the Wild Things Are is opening today, and it's time for the Combo Platter.
Our best email thread from this week is one that I can't share with you because lives would be ruined. Suffice it to say, nothing is truly sacred with the MamaPop email distro.
So I dug back a few months and found this exchange which occurred after a reader sent us an email with this image attached and little to no explanation as to why she felt it was important for us to see. (By the way, Hannah, if you're reading…sweetie, what is this supposed to mean?)
Sweetney: holy…what the fuck?
Jodifur: what? someone emailed mamapop Dooce's ads?
Palinode: What's the what-the-fuck? The ridiculous American Apparel maternity unitard?
Whit: What are we being shocked at and what's a dooce?
Palinode: I AM OUTRAGED at this bag of ripple chips I bought. They're greasy all get out.
Whit: Facepunch that shit.
Miss Banshee: I am so damn confused, dude.
Sweetney: Dude, my DEFAULT ANSWER is [facepunch]
Jodifur: I still don't understand.
Sweetney: WE"RE ALL CONFUSED. THAT'S THE POINT.
Palinode: All I know is, as a man, I am excluded from being able to wear that
unitard, and that makes me angry. I want to bring a child to term to
the sounds of Olivia Newton-John.
Whit: Drink some beers. You'll be rocking it in no time.
Sweetney: [crying laughing]
Jodifur: Did they want you to do that? Did they want you to know that dooce did that?
Sweetney: These are questions for the ages, Jodi.
Palinode: That person clearly wanted you know that things exist in places and that? Is pretty neat.
Dana: I still don't get it but I think it blows donkey bits.
Sweetney: Aidan, if I could bottle you and carry you around in my pocket I would.
Though I guess that would make me a kidnapper. With one count of
unlawful Lilliputianization and bottle entrapment against me. That
would be bad. BUT WORTH IT.
Palinode: I'm highly flattered, but since you've met me in person you must know
that the degree of Lilliputinization would be pretty minimal.
kdiddy: Since she sent it to tips maybe she wants to alert us to the fact that this dooce character has ads on her website which bring in $40,000 a
month and that she and her husband both work from home running dooce.com which is interesting because Heather Armstrong was once fired for her blog back in 1975, but working from home is good because
they have 1.5 kids and also mental hospital. Could be a potential
story. I wonder if any of the mainstream outlets have heard about this
woman? (note: this is not a slam on dooce, but on the media coverage of her which often re-covers stuff that every blogger on the planet is aware of. Also I really wanted to include this part because it provided everyone an opportunity to declare their desire to dry hump me and I'm insecure so I was pleased.)
SnarkyAmber: And again I want to make out with Kelly. But admit it – you all do.
Sweetney: DIIIIIBS MUTHAFUCKAAAAA!!!! [facepunch]
SnarkyAmber: So possessive. P.S. Could totally take you. I'm HARD, mothafuckas.
Palinode: Too late for dibs! I already made out with Kelly in Vegas. I was such
mad makeouto skills, she didn't even notice. And neither did I. To be
honest, I'm just going from some notes I found in my jacket the week
after I got home. Also: MamaPop: We [facepunch] your unicorns so hard they get knocked into reality.
kdiddy: It's true. The accordion player in the lobby of the Venetian got the better of us.
Palinode: Awwwesome.
BHJ: The number of emails is getting too numbery.
Sweetney: so naturally the only sane response to that is to send out an email about it after all discussion has ceased. i see through your curmudgeony exterior, Jon. I SEE INTO YOUR SHIT-STIRRING SOUL.
BHJ: OK truth. I didn't wanna be the quiet mamapopper who never says
anything, but I couldn't think of anything funny to say like Kelly, who
I just made out with. So I bitched about email IN AN EMAIL, which is so
hypocritical. I' m gonna make out with Kelly again.
Palinode: Wut?
kdiddy: 
Sweatpantsmom: I'm confused. Isn't Dooce the comely lass that sang on Britain's Got Talent? I don't think I've made out with any of you. Yet.
Sweetney: Just you wait until Vegas: The Revenge. Or actually… BLOGHER: THE RECKONING. Bring extra chapstick.
Amalah: My husband took my power adapter by mistake today and my battery life is ticking down rapidly and I have so much to do today and gaaaaah fucking stupid ancient laptop battery and yet I still took the time to
read this entire email thread and I'm still so confused and also
mental hospital. The end.
Sweetney: "and also mental hospital" is the new 'NEVAH AGAAAAAAIN!" Which makes dooce…Nickelback? Works for me!
kdiddy: You made this blurbodoocery a boxing ring, Tracey.
Amalah: 51degrees outside and golfball sized hail is coming down. The maternity unitards have officially ushered in the apocalypse.
Goon Squad Sarah: Okay, at this point the conversation has gotten away from me. I no longer have any idea what we are talking about. (that is a-boot for those of you from north of the border)
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Our comment of the week comes from Katya on An Open Letter to Ralph Lauren: Women Are Not Bratz Dolls:
I
loved this article. And I also looked at the link posted by Lois. And I
have a question. Why does it seem like the response to unrealistic
models is always the curvy goddess. Where does that leave women who are
neither? I see little difference in the curvy and extremely
boobalicious, yet sleek and perfectly proportioned "plus-sized" ladies
and the super-skinny models. Both are examples of things that are
unattainable for many normal women. It's heartening to see messages
that you don't have to be ultra-thin, but less heartening when the
alternative is that you need long hair, banging curves and an amazing
rack instead. What's wrong with the middle ground? What's wrong with
destroying the standard instead of erecting a new one?
Brava, Katya!
About Anastacia
