Pass the Midol

From today’s Epic hour-long meltdown by a five-year-old… Further evidence that this whole parenting thing is turning me into a chick…


A Parent’s Credo (by me):

I will hold you when you cry.
I will sing to you when you scream.
I will whisper to you when you yell.
I will reason with you when you are irrational.
I will kiss you when you kick.
I will protect you when you are a danger.
I will hug you when you hit.
And, I will Love you when you Hate me.

Then, I will go to bed and cry.


Projecting forward:

I will pay for your college education.
I will stomach your boyfriend.
I will stomach your girlfriend.
I will celebrate your graduation.
I will finance your apartment.
I will help you “find yourself.”
I will indulge your tattoos.
I will call the mechanic.
I will get you on your feet.
I will respect your decisions.
I will help you become the woman you were meant to be.

I will be your father.

Then, I will go to bed and cry.

Restaurant Impossible (Feb 1, 2012)

I know you’ve seen those home improvement and restaurant redesign shows where the host is yelling and screaming at the end that they are out of time, right? Dear Producers: These are your shows. You are in control. And, this happens every week. Why don’t you just give yourselves more time? You can do that, you know.

Feminine Needs (Jan 31, 2012)

7-year-old Julianna practicing her reading skills by telling me what the supermarket aisle signs say. Things go well until Aisle 12…

J: “Feminine Needs.” Daddy, what does that even mean. What are THEY?

Me: Well, Honey… Um, since I work for Disney, I think I’m required to say: a Handsome Prince and Talking Animal Sidekicks.

J: (Blink.) Daaaaaaad! Why are you like that?

Yes, I know.  Wrong aisle number.  I was at a  different store when I had my camera.  So there, Mr. Gottacorrectsomeonestein.

Yes, I know. Wrong aisle number. I was at a different store when I had my camera. So there, Mr. Gottacorrectsomeonestein.

On Leaving Facebook for Twitter (Sept 24-27, 2011)

Sorry, Facebook, I am breaking up with you. And to be clear, it was you, not me. I’m moving in with Twitter, though I know you think she’s a skank. (But, you just don’t know her very well.) Yes, her 140 character limit is going to pose a problem, but I’m sure in time we’ll adjust. And she has so many great qualities, things that I know you have been trying to emulate. I wish you the best. (By the way, I’d certainly appreciate it if you would forward my stuff to me at Twitter’s place. The address is @Darren_Otero)


My first Twitter ‘follower’ Olliem51 posts: “Sex is like snow; you never know how many inches you are going to get or how long it is going to last.”

Rimshot! Wow, I’m already having buyer’s remorse. (And not because it is still September, and no snow has fallen.)

Maybe I’ll start a blog or something. How hard could it be?

But, in response to Olliem51: All I have to say is, not long, and not long.


So far, I’m disillusioned by my move to Twitter. I have a total of 4 followers: my mother-in-law (Hi Darlynn!) and three hoochie-mamas whose website addresses are of the order of:… (Really, are there 26 sluttier girls than you?) Plus, I really don’t care if Kathy Griffin’s performance last night “rocked Mackinaw!!!!” So, while I am totally distrustful of Facebook, understand this: Twitter, you are weak… I may not be through with FB after all.

All About the Benjamins (Aug 15, 2011)

As he was leaving us after a three week visit, my father tried to slip me a $100 bill, as parents are apt to do. I refused his charity and explained to him that in Hollywood I earn enough through talent, smarts, skills, and shooting the occasional smile in the right direction.

He paused, looked me over, and said, “You should take the Hundred… You’re gonna need it.”

Tragedy in Japan and LA “Meteorologists” (March 17, 2011)

The first 15 minutes of tonight’s local newscast: The Japanese “Radiation Plume” will hit California around 2:00 tomorrow afternoon. They even had fancy graphics “from the United Nations” showing the “cloud” as it crosses the Pacific that is “ready to attack” the West Coast.

Puh. Leeze.

The “weather girl” delivering much of this news is more at risk from her silicone implants (which are quite generous — though I’m not complaining) than we are from the ominous Radioactive Nuclear Fallout Cloud.

Oh, and at the very end of the reports… “The doses are so low that we’ll have no way of detecting it.” Really? Then what’s the point?

Thanks KCAL 9 for keeping us non-informed!

Correction… I’m told that the “weather girl” is actually a meteorologist. In a ridiculously short skirt. Who knew?