Eden M. Kennedy

mission accomplished, pal

Eden M. Kennedy is the co-author (with Alice Bradley) of the book Let's Panic About Babies! (St. Martin's Press, 2011).

A former college-radio DJ, Mrs. Kennedy has driven cross-country six times in a 1973 Volkswagen Bug and enjoys standing on her head.

Currently she works at a nonprofit and is just about finished writing her first novel.

Whore Heads


Whore Heads
Originally uploaded by Mrs. Kennedy.

I was thinking about my little kitchen movie from the other day and how, after years of writing about myself on this blog, what is showing you a bunch of my stuff going to prove? Or does just the fact of me flaunting our blatant consumerism tell you more than you needed to know? It reminds me of how in college my friend Charley went off about how he hated The Big Chill, and much of his hatred centered on the way the film introduced you to the characters by showing you what they unpacked from their suitcases. I think the word Charley used was "cheap." Or maybe "cheating"? It had a "ch" sound in it, and an "ea" or perhaps "ee" somewhere in there, too, a vowel sound that may be used to suggest the scraping of nails on a chalkboard.

Anyway, here's a picture of some of Jackson's stuff. Jack bought a lot of used Horror Heads on eBay from a guy in England and it took something like seven weeks for them to get here. Horror Heads are these toys that open up and have little torture chamber landscapes inside and a little, easily-lost figure called Mighty Max who has adventures within the Horror Heads, I guess. Jackson flipped when the box arrived. So maybe that tells you something about his character? That creepy, oozy decapitated things turn him on, perhaps? There's a glimpse, until he starts his own Myspace page, wherein he can call me stupid all he wants.

I have this other thing to admit. You remember how aggrieved I felt the other day, saying boo-hoo what's wrong with me, I don't have any friends? Just don't ever believe anything I say ever again, okay? Yesterday one of Jack's contractor friends came up from Valencia to go on a long and heinous upward climbing bike ride with Jack, and he brought along his wife, who I'd only met once before, and his son, who's Jackson's age. And at first I was all, Oh, no! I am entertaining someone's wife for three hours while the men are off sweating and being all masculine in their Spandex pants and the boys try to drown each other in the pool!

Guess what? You know already. She was awesome. We're going over to their house next week and she's going to put little flowers on my toenails. And then Jack, Jackson and I went to dinner with just about every person who means anything to me in this town, and I just sat there going, Hey, Moron, I believe these people are actually your friends, too! Aren't they interesting? Aren't they funny? Why, yes! They are! They're pretty goddamn amazing people, and also, they read my blog. So, Hi! Hi, Alison, Hi Jennifer, Hi Linda! You guys fucking rock and I am an idiot who never makes phone calls and you guys need to take me out behind the shed and beat me with a two-by-four if I blog piteously to the world about being alienated and alone ever again.

The last thing is, I had a dream last night where I was making out with Daniel Desario in a tent, hoo baby. Let's please not acknowledge the fact that I'm old enough to be his mom.