for everyone except this guy…

This 48 year-old skier was boarding the chairlift at Vail Ski Resort and apparently the fold-up seat wasn’t in the right position, causing him to fall through a gap.

As for how he lost his pants, well… that’s not completely clear.

He dangled up there for 15 minutes.

His fellow skiers did their part by snapping lots of pictures.

Photo courtesy of The Smoking Gun.

So poor little 2 year-old Summer is sick with this gross stomach bug.

After a long night of throwing up and diarrhea (I know, I’m sorry), she woke up and demanded one thing.

For her nails to be painted blue.

I didn’t have any blue nail polish, so she settled for pink.

Hey, whatever helps that girl freshen up and feel better, is fine by me. I wonder if she’ll tweeze my eyebrows in return because that’s becoming a seriously pressing situation.

This weekend, I ignored my wild, furry eyebrows and instead focused on the Christmas tree.

Christmas trees after the holidays are so pathetic, aren’t they?

Those festive ornaments and lights just look so cheap and tawdry on January 1st. Honestly, they really start to lose their shine on the 26th but out of kindness and pity, we let them hang in there til January.

And I’m still bitter that tree never filled my apartment with the holiday scent of evergreen. I don’t know what went wrong. The 10 year-old sales girl Ava absolutely promised this type of tree was extremely fragrant.

Yet, another reason not to trust 10 year-olds.

Now what’s the re-sale value of my tree? Can I unload this thing for some cash?

Because when I was in Memphis, I saw this sign at a nursery…

2 days AFTER Christmas.

Maybe it’s like an early bird special for Christmas 2009.  You know, get your holiday cards, wrapping and dried out Christmas tree with brittle branches – all 50% off.

Anyway, just so you know, my tree is out on the curb on 12th street. You can leave the money with my doorman.

If you fail to take advantage of this incredible opportunity, my tree will be recycled into mulch at the city’s MulchFest 2009. How fun and crazy does that sound? Before you head over, there’s no beer or music, just mulch. But maybe that’s your scene.

Speaking of recycling, the other day I was in-line behind one of my neighbors at the grocery store. Noticing all his plastic bags, I casually mentioned in a super friendly way, “Hey, you should get some reusable bags. ”

He nodded in agreement but I’m absolutely sure he was thinking, “Is that the know-it-all girl in my building who is actually trying to sell her Christmas tree?”

Anyway, I was feeling all environmentally smart and superior, until I realized that I left all my reusable bags at home.  Being an environmentalist is completely exhausting.

mama bird notes:

If you live in the nyc area, click on drooling over this, to read my review of “Dear Edwina.” It’s a musical comedy for kids and adults. No… it’s not about dinosaurs.

And if you’ve enjoyed my tales of Dylan’s portable potty and our consistent trips to the Whole Foods bathroom, you must read the latest post from Bernthis.  It’s hilarious. And exactly the kind of experience that just seems to only happen in this city.

Over the weekend, I had the chance to check out “Dear Edwina,” an Off-Broadway musical comedy for kids and adults playing in the Union Square area.

13 year-old Edwina Spoonapple (you know this musical will be good with a name like that) and her very entertaining friends put on a show in their backyard to audition for for the Kalamazoo Advice-a-Palooza Festival.

Edwina gives advice on all kinds of problems like rotten siblings, making new friends and how to set a table. The music is really creative and fun. Songs like “Hola, Lola” and “Put It in the Piggy” are especially fabulous. Two days later and I’m still humming “Hola, Lola” to myself. Well, that’s better than the Jonas Brothers.

The show is just over an hour (the perfect length for a kids’ show) and intended for children 5 and up but my 2 year-old sat through the whole thing and barely took her eyes off the stage.  Tickets are regularly $39. To purchase tickets for $25 each, click here. Running until April 19th. Click here for more information about “Dear Edwina.”

I had one of those city weekends where at one point I’m doing cool New York stuff like taking my kids to the peaceful, calming glass garden at NYU Medical Center (Thank you Mommy Poppins for the idea) where my girls discover tropical birds, plants and a koi pond.

And then at another point, 4 year-old Dylan and I are stuck endlessly underground waiting for our subway, the L train, amongst the chaotic, less than calming crowds.

Those subway stations could really use a koi pond.

After 25 minutes it occurs to me that hey, maybe the L train isn’t actually running. So Dylan and I make our way back upstairs.

We, of course, pass about 421 signs clearly explaining that the L train is indeed not running from Union Square to 8th Ave. I am convinced that all those signs were JUST put up. Or very cleverly hidden. Or I’m just not that smart.

Then I ask the friendly Metropolitan Transportation Authority folks for a full $2 refund. So we can put it towards a nice, dependable cab ride.

I mean, we waited for a LONG time. And we still need to get home. And don’t even get me riled up about those invisible signs.

“I want my two dollars!”

They hand me a bus pass.

Oh, and that quote was “Better Off Dead.” John Cusack. 1985. You’re welcome.

Anyway, Dylan is ecstatic over this new public transportation opportunity. So we board the bus.

And as the bus labors slowly across town, I notice the woman in front of me eating an enormous hunk of cheese.  I will never understand how people can enjoy eating anything on mass transit.

It must go something like this…. I’m so looking forward to this delicious, gorgeous wedge of cheese but first I’m going to get on the bus so I can eat it while some guy’s arse is in my face and another woman is shoving her purse into my side and the guy to the right of me has his legs spread so wide that I can hardly fit on my own seat.

And then during my fromage pondering, I smell some one’s Chinese food.

Oh gross. For gosh sakes, does someone really need to be eating their moo goo gai pan on their way to 8th ave? It just stinks up the whole bus.

So incredibly self-centered. You can’t wait 15 minutes until you’re home? Well, this is the crosstown bus. So maybe 30 minutes. But still.  How about a little respect for your fellow New Yorkers?

And then I realize I’m just smelling Thai food, leftover from lunch, in my own bag.

Oh.

Scratch that previous tirade.

Rick and I decided to stay home and have a 1929 inspired New Year’s Eve.

Basically, sit on the couch and spend zero dollars.

Dude, not spending money is so damn boring.

But with a myriad of New Year’s Eve shows to choose from, including a live performance by the Jonas Brothers, things started to really liven up.

Oh wait, no… that’s not what happened.

Here we go.

While Rick was folding laundry, I did my part by watching TV. I loved the hilarious and brilliant Kathy Griffin co-hosting with Anderson Cooper on CNN. But NOTHING surpassed the Scope Kiss Cam on ABC.

Dear Head Honchos over at ABC,

Yes, a kiss at midnight is a New Year’s Eve tradition.

And yes, it’s totally hot to watch beautiful celebrities make-out in some steamy movie.

It is, however, completely gross and vomit inducing to watch random people shove their tongues down each others throats while wearing big arse parkas and giant, electric blue Nivea hats in Times Square.

Sincerely,

A Faithful Viewer (IF you promise to make “Grey’s Anatomy” good again or at the very least fix Meredith’s hair)

And I did feel sorry for some of the TV reporters who could barely speak because their lips were so cold and frozen in the 0 degree weather. But then they kept using dumb words and phrases that no normal person every utters like, “revelers” and “closed to vehicular traffic.”

And to think I wasted my pity on them.

Of course, these were my favorite little New Year’s girls.

But now that the holidays are over, I will miss having an easy, light way to wrap up emails. You know… “Happy Thanksgiving,” “Happy Holidays,” or “Wishing you a wonderful new year!”

I mean, what am I suppose to write now?

“Despite the frigid cold and dreary winter days, hope your January doesn’t make you want to curl up in a ball and cry while gripping a bottle of Mad Dog.”

Yeah, I guess that could work.