*Author’s Note: Yes, I realize it’s April. Shut up.*

I feel bad for my kids. I do. Every year I try to create a festive, stress-free holiday infused with the true spirit of Christmas and timeless family traditions.

What actually happens is this:

Someone (hint: not me) got the idea that it would be a good idea for us to try our hand at the time-honored Christmas craft of the Gingerbread House. In an effort to prove that I really am a good mother, I forged ahead, putting the Wee Jack down for a nap and setting up shop at the kitchen table with Em.

The end result is what you see above…the culinary equivalent of government-funded housing. The roof panels start sliding apart almost immediately and it pretty much went downhill from there. Oh, we made an attempt to festively decorate according to the picture on the box, but IMO we were doomed from the start. Combine a creativity challenged mother and a 9 year old with the attention span of, well, a 9 year old and you ain’t exactly looking at The Home & Garden Network. We gave up right about the time Em finished all the “good” candy parts, leaving the poor Gingerbastards whose home this was intended to be slumped despondently in front of their allegedly edible shack. I say allegedly because who the hell actually eats a Gingerbread house?

Jack, that is who. Unfortunately I failed to get a picture of the final indignity suffered by the above-mentioned residents of Potterville, but Jack certainly enjoyed himself. On the plus side I learned I would make an excellent slumlord.

Let’s just jump right in, shall we? I’m the one in italics.

Johnny, thanks so much for sitting down with us.

JD (doing his little smirky face): There’s only one of you.

I’m using the journalistic “us”, Johnny.

JD: Can I smoke in here?

Ha! I smoke constantly in my blog. I’d be offended if you didn’t smoke. By the way, last night was awesome.

JD: I’m sorry?

You know, last night? When we attended the Oscars together and I got up and threw a shoe at the presenter because you got screwed out of yet another “Best Actor” and then you said “That’s my girl!” and then we made out?

JD: Um….(exhales smoke)…that didn’t actually happen.

*rolls eyes* Ohhhhkay. Anyway,is it true that you named your son, Jack, after an imaginary pirate that you play in a movie? Because if that is true it would be ridiculous. Ha ha. I mean people think that I named my son, Jack, after an imaginary pirate that you played in a movie and then I have to remind them that he is actually named Jackson, which I got off of Hannah Montana and that it is just a coincidence that the short form of Jackson is Jack (which, as you may be aware, is the name of an imaginary pirate you played in a movie).

JD: What is truth, really? I mean, we all have this concept of truth and really everyones concept is so different and Tim, you know Tim, (runs hands through hair) is , like, he has this beautiful perspective and so…

Who?

JD: Tim. Tim Burton. We have a new movie coming out.

Again?

JD: Uh…yea. Isn’t that why we’re doing this interview?

Oh, right, sure. Ha. So, let me guess…Helena Bonham Carter is in this one too *coughbangingthedirectorcough*.

JD: Yes, she plays the Red Qu-

A lot of people say I look like Helena. You kind of have to agree:

Helena

Me

JD: Yea, so…as I was saying-

Do you remember when I said I would never talk to you again because you worked with Roman Polanski and then it turned out you said all these mean things about him and then I forgave you?

JD: Uh, no?

Dude, it was on my Facebook.

JD: Okay, I’m going now.

One last question…do you always show up for interviews shirtless or was that just for me?

*door slams*

Johnny? Johnny?

And there you have it folks, my world exclusive interview with Johnny Depp. Celebrities can be so touchy, what with all the looking around for the exit and taking out restraining orders.

Editor’s Note: The author’s son is in fact named after her Godfather, John, who goes by Jack and is one of the men she most admires in the world, but really one family can only handle only so many people named John and even though she did get the full name Jackson off of Hannah Montana, that was pretty much an afterthought.

Shopping with Mom at The Target the other day and we got separated. So I’m wandering about looking for her and a helpful The Target helper gets up in my face to ask if I need help with anything. To which I say without thinking:

“Yes. I can’t find my Mommy.”

where your kid won’t go down for a nap so you totally ignore him until he passes out on the floor of his room with a pile of Matchbox cars on his chest and then you can’t decide if you should pick him up and put him in bed because what if you wake him up and then you’re screwed?

Me either.

Some of which include:

That time in that bar where I did that thing. (x infinity) I know someone has video.

All of the evilly e-mails I have sent to elected officials.

My YouTube account.

My husband.

The fact that I have a wonky eye. People don’t trust a wonky eye, and who can blame them? Not me.

This blog.

Well, technically I cold run for office. But given the above…Joe Sestak would have a better shot, and he almost took a secret backroom deal to not primary Specter.

TMIM: You know, when the President gives those, you know, yearly updates.

Me: You mean the State of the Union Address?

TMIM: Yea, that’s it!

Me: I’m going back on the Internet.

Every time I go to an event the photogs are all up in my grill. With good reason…I am a classic 1940′s beauty. But they never publish my pics!!! Which is understandable, because I look like ass in pictures.

Do your job, people. Make me look good. Ya fuckers.

We already did the lazy river ride three times but it was me and Jack and TMIM, so I thought it was cool to just have me and Jack go.

But, the thing is Jack has this issue with not feeling the ground under his feet, I have no idea what his problem is. So basically we wind up in the “river” with him on my hip and me walking and just holding the stupid tube. I can see the first checkpoint and I’m all like:

“Shit! We are totally gonna get called on this!”

And Jack’s all like:

“Sit! Sit! Sit”

And then I go

“Stop cursing! We’re already in enough trouble!!”

And sure enough this emaciated 12 year old informs me that “You have to be in a tube.”

Me: “Not gonna happen, bro. I’ll climb out right now if it’s a problem.”

Infant With Whistle: “Why don’t you try putting the tube OVER you guys?”

Me (holding baby + tube, while telling randoms passersby to mind their own business): “Sure. Because that worked so well the first time.”

***Brief struggle with tube, baby, fatness and life-jacket***

Infant With Whistle: “It’s getting caught on the life-jacket.”

Me: “No way! For realz??? Thank you for that insight! You are the awesomest lifeguard EVER!”

IWW:” Just keep to the side then.”

There must be a secret lifeguard code because none of them said a word for the rest of the trip.

It’s about dreams again, okay? I cannot help it, I has them.

So in this one, I was literally in a kung fu fight with President Obama (pbuh). And he was kicking my ass! He really wanted to fight! So we fought for like forever…

And then we had sex.

And he was AWESOME.

I think there may be a metaphor or possibly an analogy in this, depending on how my understanding of how language works.

“Well, it’s not my fault you have small tits.”

This is especially important if the person you are talking to is about to give you a shot.