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Summer is heating up, and usually I like to write about mundane things like staycations or how to take a family vacation or unplugging for a little true R&R.

But this year, things are different.

This year, things have reached a boiling point.

Boiled over.

In light of recent events including the horror in Orlando and the shooting deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile by police officers, some countries are even advising their citizens to NOT travel to the U.S. The Bahamas warned about “shootings of young black males by police officers,” while Bahrain and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) warned their people about crowded places and to be aware of immediate surroundings.

In America. Home of the supposed free, the supposed brave.

Hullo, my fellow Americans. I’m just saying #blacklivesmatter.

You can add that all lives matter, but I’d prefer to stay focused on the horrible issue at hand….

…. which is racism… how profoundly it has raised its ugly head, swollen by aspiring presidential rhetoric, stoked by a country fully unable to admit we have a goddamn problem with gun violence, fostered by a whole world that in my humble opinion is also somewhat f**ked. read more

As y’all know, I’m not afraid of chucking a few 4-letter words out there in my blog.

But today I’m going some place different — it’s dark, it’s scary, and it’s not often the subject of an otherwise (relatively) lighthearted “mom” blog like Bitch’in Suburbia.

And that is exactly why I am going there:

Because I am a mother.

Because I am a woman.

Because I stand with Kesha, whose case against Dr. Luke will go well into 2017 if not beyond.

Because I am still outraged about UVA rape case, which thanks to horrendous reporting and a gross, potential “catfishing” scenario at its core, now makes it much harder for women to come forward AND be believed when they claim that they have been sexually assaulted or raped.

And while there is an endless amount of more becauses, I’ll go right to the one that makes it personal: Because I am a victim.

Which I was reminded of when I made a video recently for a contest aimed at igniting the conversation about feminism called #TheFWord, sponsored by SheKnows Media and the Ms. Foundation. read more

Joy, happy, merry — are you feelin’ it today?

I certainly hope so, because 2015 was one helluva rollercoaster that went to 11… and beyond. Today is the perfect day to take a break and take stock in the year that was, with great hopes for the year that will be.

Allow me to stuff a few things into your stockings before we begin: gratitude for your eyeballs, love from the deep reaches of my bitch’in heart and fervent hopes that your dreams are being danced into fruition by sugarplum fairies and other beautiful things.

This past year was not for the meek, my bitches — everything was quaking, and I’m not just talking about Caitlyn trying to walk in heels at the ESPY’s — but the whole damn stratosphere seemed to turn upside down and sideways.

All I can say is this: it’s a good thing we have each other.

I like to think of my Bitch’in blog as a thermometer to take our collective temperature. And this year, the things that made us who we are are the things we gravitated toward most. Some years that kind of fortitude is exactly what the doctor ordered. (Well, that and apparently weed is what the doctor ordered in 2015 — so much legalizing, not so much criticizing!) read more

I just got back from a 10-day trip to Israel, and although I’d love to show y’all the hundreds of photos I took, I’m just going to share one: #LoveWins.

I know that’s old news to us Americans, as the Supreme Court ruling making gay marriage legal happened earlier this summer, but in Israel, Gay Pride parades took place on its “Valentine’s Day” (Tu B’Av) on July 30th.

Coincidentally, we had just arrived and settled into an Airbnb’d apartment just steps away from the course of the parade in Jerusalem. My husband heard a ruckus outside, and called for all of us to come out and see what was happening.

Very quickly the rainbow flags we’d been seeing around the neighborhood where we were staying made sense. Unlike the outrageous, sexually charged, exuberant Pride parades in the U.S., this one featured a lot of young people dressed in t-shirts and shorts with the occasional rainbow painted on their cheeks, walking hand-in-hand, singing and cheering, and looking a lot like a parade of camp kids. All that was missing was a bearded dude on a guitar and the strains of “Kumbaya.” (And he was probably there, too.) read more

There is a savage beast raging through our home that’s at times as stealthy as a panther, other times as loud as a howling monkey, and always the elephant in the room.

While I’ve heard a zillion firsthand tales of how I have to brace myself for the onslaught of the teen years when the cords begin to be cut, the heartstrings torn and even broken, and the torrents of adolescent psychosis induced by the confluence of brain and body development become every day occurrences, I didn’t realize that my own physiology would be behind the worst of it.

“Your hormones are a jungle,” my homeopathic doc cautioned me recently. “A mess! So many estrogens!”

At the moment, I think her analogy is a wee bit off. “Jungle” sounds almost too tame. Lately I feel more like the rainforest — what was once lush, moist, and abundantly fertile is now being cleared for new construction. The mother-person that hormones built is going through a metamorphosis, and honey, it ain’t always pretty. read more

While Super Bowl XLIX is now a somewhat distant memory, I can’t get one moment out of my mind…. and no, it wasn’t Seahawks Coach Pete Carroll’s “Super Blunder” when he had his QB throw a pass, “waste a play,” and lose the game. (That was a #LikeADamnFool moment if I ever saw one.)

It was the airing of the #LikeAGirl ad, where grown women, a man, a boy, and some little girls demonstrate what it means to “run like a girl” and “fight like a girl.” There is a lot of silly, limp-wristed flopping around to demonstrate the stereotypical “women are the weaker sex” scenario — sadly conveyed not just by the males in the bunch but also by the grown women, too.

And the of course the little girls, who presumably have not yet been gripped by low self-esteem or subjected to antiquated, un-PC, sexist perceptions, proceed to run hard, punch fiercely, and generally kick ass.

For those of us who like to keep score, this campaign sponsored by Always — the feminine protection product that ironically makes me feel like I want to lay down and take a Victorian-era nap vs. be active and bold in the modern world and use a tampon — has been around for about a year. The intention, which is to bolster self-confidence in teen girls, is awesome, albeit a little cloying. read more

Did you have your selfie a merry and a happy?

Now that the holidaze are over, the relentless clock is ticking down on 2014. It’s just about time to usher in a brand new baby new year that’s so gorgeous and fantastic, we’ll all want to dress her up in Balmain-inspired Kardashian Kids Klothing.

But before we get there, I’d just like to take a minute to spread some gratitude all over you like so much delicious Justin’s Chocolate Almond Butter (my new paleo-ish obsession!). I so appreciate your eyeballs, your comments, your social media interactions — and YOU, bitch’in YOU!

I’m always really intrigued about the blog posts that hit home, and the themes that resonate. As I gaze back on all I’ve covered in this past year, I see a pattern where world events dovetail or perhaps collide with our collective personal headspace in the Bitch’in Year in Review 2014. Here then are the waves that we rode in the past year, month by month:

January 2014: My BBFs Tina Fey & Amy Poehler kicked off January at the Golden Globes with one of the best lines ever about the film Gravity: “It’s the story of how George Clooney would rather float away into space and die than spend one more minute with a woman his own age.” Clooney validated that joke in September 2014 by marrying a woman 17 years his junior — although no never mind to Mrs. Clooney who is bright, beautiful, and dignified in her own right. Indeed, my GenX bitches all agreed that there were at least 7 Ways Old School Beats Being a Young Fool. For example, ladyscaping is a snap, the social media camera almost never turns on us, and perhaps most importantly, we’ll never have to know how to make an Half Caff, Ristretto, Venti, 4-Pump, 120-degree, Sugar Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte, as our post-college careers don’t depend on our Barista skills. (PHEW!) read more

Welcome to Week 3 of the Bitch’in Challenge! You’ve been working SO HARD to get to this place. All that answering your wake-up call, fixing your bad-ass diet, making sure you drink a gallon of water a day, perhaps bumping up your fitness routine…

So A#1) YAY, YOU! and B#2) STOP right now.

Seriously, sit down. I have something super important to tell you:

This may all be for naught, if you and I don’t do something RIGHT NOW about the sneaky sabotaging scoundrel that can rob you of your life as you want to lead it and live it.

You can do everything in the world to get healthier, but if you keep sucking up the STRESS, you are going to screw yourself, and not in a good/fun/happy way.

SAVE YOUR OWN LIFE: Cut out the stress!

Remember how I told you that my holistic doc called me a “Hot Toxic Box“? (And then I started a punk band by the same name? Our first single is “F*ck My Frozen Liver.”)

In that same appointment she put me on a whole regimen of supplements and detoxes to get my body working right since, according to her, I wasn’t digesting my food, my liver was blocked, my adrenals were shot, my iron and thyroid were both running on empty, and there was also a mixed-bag of assorted other conundrums. This was all super new to me, as regardless of the fact that I live in the LA — land of the high colonics and low rider jeans — I’m a New England girl at heart, so the closest thing to a detox I’d ever done was survive a bout of post-lobster roll food poisoning back in ’92. read more

This time of year, there is a rapid-pace blur that starts with pumpkin, black, and skulls, and then rolls into the winter white holidaze. But for a fleeting period of time in between, we get the burnt orange acorn haze of Thanksgiving goodness.

So I submit to you that now is the perfect time to take stock in the soup of life.

Before you start daydreaming about turkey, mashed potatoes, football games, and the Macy’s parade, take a moment to think about what the holiday is really about…


I’m just kidding! In a way. Because pouring something smooth and comforting over the lumps, bumps, and charred humps of life isn’t such a bad idea.

And maybe the sauce that makes it all go down easier is good old fashioned, well, thanksgiving.

Deep, heartfelt gratitude for all you’ve got. I know that sounds preachy, and believe me, when someone tells me I should be grateful for something, it ends up feeling artificial. And I believe that being truly thankful for something isn’t a feeling at all — it’s an attitude. read more

Are you in it to win it?

Nowadays, the rats are rattier, and the damn race is on. There quite literally is no rest for the weary — our daily lives move at light speed, and we as a society are dedicated to harder, better, faster, stronger. (Thank you Daft Punk and Kanye for your anthems of a generation!) With mile-long to-do lists, dreams and desires for our families and ourselves, not to mention the added pressure of today’s high standards and low-levels of support, it’s a wonder any of us are still standing at the end of each day.

There is only one way to get to whatever goals you have, and that’s to push through to the other side.

But there are plenty of times when your drive is driven off by any number of distractions, disappointments, and disasters.

The other day in spin class, I had one of those moments where I got to the core of how to push, and it came from a surprisingly soft place that I landed upon after taking seven distinct steps to clear the decks for the final push to a triumphant ball of sweat and clarity. Here’s how to go from good grief to sweet relief: read more