WHY THE FUCK IS THE FIRST WEEK OF PUBLIC SCHOOL ONE DAY LONG??

Dear Joel Klein, 

I don't want to micromanage and I know you're a busy man but I wonder if you might clarify WHY THE FUCK the last day of school was a half day of Monday in July (fine, late late June) and the first week back is a whopping ONE DAY LONG. On a WEDNESDAY!!!!!

Okay, I know we have more jews inside the city limits than in Jerusalem but at most we still account for only 12% of the NYC population. And how many of that number actually celebrate Rosh Hashanah? Are we gonna get a month off for Ramadan too?

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WHO GIVES A SHIT, BREEDER EDITION: Where Did You Pop Out Yer Kid?

Because all natural births should be immortalized in stone.  (Photo: Gawker.)

I hate to break it to you guys, but the secret's out: the inhabitants of  Brownstone Brooklyn like to breed.  (That's us, in case you're keeping score.)  Gothamist's reporting that our BREEDERS are so fancy-ass, we refuse to pop our babies out in this borough, despite the fact that we carry around our Coop groceries in Brooklyn tote bags, and tell everyone how so over living in Manhattan we are.  (Truth, if you still have that scorecard handy.)

So, your Q of the day: BREEDERS, if your spawn entered the world in this fine city, where was he/she/it born?  And I suppppose if you're joining the legion of Park Slope Parents soonish, you're welcome to respond, too, since lately I'm getting the feeling every fucking person in this city besides me is pregnant.  (Yes, I give up my seat on the F...but do YOU?)

As snarky as I'm dying to get on this one, I suppose I'll have to step back and let you all steer the ship; the closest I've ever gotten to a Brooklyn hospital is my daily walk past Methodist.  (Side note: I do have a few friends--mostly native New Yorkers--who carry around cards that read, "If found injured in Brooklyn, transport to Manhattan hospital for medical treatment.")  Fire away in the comments.

Happy BELATED Lame-Ass School Holiday Formerly Known as Brooklyn Queens Day

ed note: I shoulda posted this shit last week, but I suck so I didn't.

So, as with almost all days (and weeks) off of school, the holiday formerly known as B/Q Day came as a somewhat unwelcome surprise. Even more so when I realized the night before that it was also my double at the food coop.

So instead of sharing meaningful moments like the one above at the beauteous and nearby Botanical Gardens, I spent four hours and twenty minutes doing this.

Only I wasn't smiling.

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Shitmykidsruined.com: Greatest Parenting Site Ever?

Thanks to having Huffington Post as my homepage, I stumbled upon this diabolically ingenious website: Shit My Kids Ruined. It seemed particularly timely what with all you alleged "BALLERS" going to town about the perks of a kid-free existence.

While I do sometimes yearn--it's true--for world travel, a tranquil home, and uninterrupted hooch, I wouldn't trade my little people for anything. 

Nonetheless, I couldn't help but note yesterday (before I got a gander at Shit My Kids Ruined) that my beautiful, one-of-a-kind red fox seems to have been GORILLA GLUED, as if SOMEBODY broke this work of art by renowned Nova Scotia folk artist Bradford Naugler. 

Heads will roll!!!!! But, in the meantime, yuck it up at shitmykidsruined.com.

Boyz to Men: Mating for Minors

I don’t know if the “treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen” approach is genetically encoded into male DNA or what, but watching the mating rituals of 6th graders has truly been a revelation.
 
Since around 3rd grade, the girls have been circling ever closer, ever more fervently. But lately they’ve begun to explode, one by one into a mass of body odor, hormones and passionate need (desperation?).
 
Although 6th graders are all over the growth chart, the girls are often so far ahead of the boys, it’s mind-boggling. Meanwhile, the hottie boys are all easy to spot as they seem to develop, through pure instinct, the powerful pull of indifference and disdain. Or possibly cluelessness...its still unclear.

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