An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

Of dares and double-dog dares

So last week I get a call from a producer at the Bonnie Hunt show, and after we talk for a few minutes she says, “Do you think you could show Kourtney Kardashian how to change a diaper?”

Just let that sink in for a second.

I twittered my thoughts about it earlier, but I never thought that teaching Kourtney Kardashian how to change a diaper was on my lifelist, but THERE IT IS. Right up there with chest-bumping Danny DeVito and seeing if I can get Martha Stewart to hold my gum while I taste test her trademark homemade sorbet.

So that’s what I’m doing tonight during a taping of the show that airs I believe on Thursday, and I’ll let you know if there are any changes to that schedule. But that’s not even what this post is about, although I could probably just end it right there: you guys, I get to meet Kourtney Kardashian today and teach her how to wipe someone else’s butt. WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY?

Let’s just hope it’s not one of Marlo’s diapers, DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED on what that kid did as our flight was descending into LAX. And because I had changed both of her blow-out messes last time we did this three weeks ago, it was Jon’s turn to maneuver his abnormally large body plus dripping poopy diaper inside that claustrophobic air hole they call an airplane bathroom. Let’s just call it what it really is: an upright coffin.

Thing is, he was taking forever, and I wasn’t even worried that maybe he’d banged his head against the wall and blacked out because of the turbulence. No. No, I was just hoping, praying that when he came to and realized where he was and walked back to his seat that he wouldn’t make eye contact with Peter Frampton.

Half of my audience just went, who?

Dude, PETER FUCKING FRAMPTON. A quick wikipedia search will tell you that his album Frampton Comes Alive was the top selling album of 1976, and my most vivid memory of him, really, is listening to this certain adult contemporary radio station in Memphis on rainy Sunday afternoons in the 80’s and singing, “Baby, I love your way” really loudly into a hairbrush with a backdrop of pink and teal flowered wallpaper. I’m sure that’s the exact scenario he had hoped that song would inspire, right after world peace.

But he played a HUGE influence in Jon’s childhood. ENORMOUS. Here, let me let Jon tell you in his own words:

Summer. 1977. My older brother Tom brought home Frampton Comes Alive. My first time ever being allowed to touch a double album. I was in love with “Do You Feel Like We Do” and would put on headphones (that we bought for my dad for his birthday; a sweet pair of vented Koss) and assume the position of drummer or of Frampton himself. I knew every note. The little riff on the Fender before the crowd roar as Peter went for the talkbox and started teasing with a few Do You Feels before releasing with Like We Do and the crowd roaring approval. I first faked the drum parts via air drumming and then later did stellar air guitar work. I wore that album out, but I was very careful to clean it before and after playing so my brother would be none the wiser. That album was my first leap into thinking that I could possibly one day play music in front of people.

So when we find out that he is sitting two rows in front of us on the plane to LA, both Jon and I instinctually Twitter the hell out of it as we’re sitting in the terminal, and I’m joking that I’m going to start singing “Baby, I love your way” while we board, because I BET HE’S NEVER HAD TO ENDURE THAT from a stranger.

And Jon is talking about how he’s trying to force me to keep my shirt on, and I’m all BUT MY NURSING BRA, SO HOTT, and someone replied back, really? you have a hot nursing bra? And guys, I only have one that fits me the right way, so even if it was hot back when I started wearing it twelve weeks ago, I’m guessing the frayed straps and sagging elastic make it look less like something you’d find at Victoria’s Secret and more like something you’d see Meatloaf using to wipe the sweat off of his forehead.

And that’s when I casually glance over my shoulder and see Peter Fucking Frampton SITTING RIGHT THERE BEHIND US in the terminal. And he’s on his laptop. And he’s looking at Twitter.

Slllooooooowww moooootionnnnn, oooohhhhh nooooooo.



Jon starts doing the satan ventriloquist thing where his lips aren’t moving, and he’s going FIND HIM ON TWITTER RIGHT NOW, WOMAN. So I do a quick search and, phew! He doesn’t follow me or Jon, as if he ever would, I know, but the feeling was still one of a close call. Except at the time, if he had done a search on his name he would have seen all the replies of people urging and double-dog-daring me to karaoke his music as we board the plane. Note: I couldn’t bring myself to do it. In theory, a great idea, right? In reality, the making of a total douchebag.

So we get settled into our seats, and we’re both checking our phones before they close the cabin doors and tell us that we have to turn off all electronic equipment, and right then I get a direct message from one of our Internet friends nemeses, Mike Monteiro. And he says that if I can get a picture of Peter Frampton holding a “I hate Mike Monteiro” sign then he’ll give me free T-shirts for life (see selection here, we already own a few, including the utterly tasteless “Jackson 4” shirt that I wear around the house when I don’t want to put on a nursing bra, and Tito ends up crying tears of milk all day long, bless his heart.)

Jon looks at me, and I look at Jon, and after maneuvering the baby around a bit, we find a pen and I MacGyver a sign on a drink napkin:

Delta Airline cocktail napkin

It takes me a few minutes to get the nerve up, but I finally hold my breath, hop down the aisle a bit and there I am face to face with Peter Frampton. And next thing you know, I can barely even remember, I’m frantically going MY HUSBAND IS A HUGE FAN AND I LIKE YOU TOO AND WE HAVE THIS FRIEND WHO HAS A CRIMINAL RECORD AND MIGHT CUT ME IN THE THROAT IF I DON’T GET HIM A PHOTO, DO YOU THINK—

And he politely cuts me off and says, “Not now, please, maybe later.”

Oh you guys, I don’t think I have ever been more mortified. MORTIFIED. I felt so stupid, so so so dumb, DUMBITY DUMB DUMB, and spent the entire plane ride jabbing that pen into my skull. So when we’re landing and Marlo shits all over herself and Jon, all I can think is, oh God, please Jon, whatever you do, please do not look at Frampton! DON’T DO IT! LOOK DOWN, LOOK DOWN! And what does he do? HE GRINS AT FRAMPTON. He GRINNED! At FRAMPTON!

And then after landing as everyone is gathering up their luggage I do nothing but avoid looking anywhere near his direction. That’s it. I spent a good ten minutes of my life avoiding eye contact with Peter Frampton. Whoever is in charge at the time, I want that on my tombstone.

And after we get our stroller and car seat and are taking our time walking toward baggage claim, we keep going back and forth about how dumb I feel, and Jon’s all DUDE! PETER FRAMPTON! He’s still reminiscing about that summer in 1977 unaware that I want to shrivel up and die, and OH MY GOD, I am not even kidding, when we get to the baggage claim Peter Frampton is the only one from our flight standing around the carousel. Turns out God doesn’t just like to fuck with you through your appliances. He likes to fuck with you through Frampton.

I immediately sprint with the stroller and the baby to a remote hiding place behind a column next to the door, thinking, okay, he’ll never see me here, and Jon! OH MY GOD! JON! MY HUSBAND. FATHER OF MY CHILDREN. HE WALKS UP TO FRAMPTON. And I’m screaming whispers from my hiding place, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! STOP! And I can’t hear anything from where I’m standing, but dear lord god in heaven, my husband is over there right in front of Frampton playing air guitar, swaying his hips, and pumping his hand in the shape of devil horns above his head.

Please just picture that in your head.

Remember, Jon is six feet three inches tall, weighs sixty pounds when he’s soaking wet, and his hair looks like Kramer’s.

I think I fell over dead, or maybe I just blacked out, but I don’t remember at least five minutes of my life. The sweat on my upper lip was so thick that I could have poured it into a 64-oz Big Gulp and had enough left over to water my yard.

And just as I come to, just as my vision starts to correct itself, I look up right as Frampton is exiting the terminal with his family not two feet in front of me. And you guys, this still doesn’t seem real, I’m still processing what happened, but right then he lifted up his right arm and waved at Jon. And then he stopped a few inches in front of Marlo’s stroller and said, “You have a beautiful baby there.”

Marlo, honey, do you have any idea how many 45-yr-old men are insanely jealous of you as this moment? FRAMPTON ACKNOWLEDGED YOU.

We talked about pretty much nothing else yesterday, Jon every other minute singing another Frampton song, pretending to play guitar, sending email to all his high school buddies going, LOOK AT ME NOW! And then when we climbed into bed at the hotel to settle in for the night, Jon frantically poked my snoozing body and said, DUUUUUUUUDE LOOOOOOOK!

Long story to say no, sadly, I didn’t get Mike his sign, so he’s going to have to settle for this:

  • Awesome. Well, at least he twittered that he was legitimately busy on the flight — and actually meant the “maybe later” part. Pretty cool deal.

  • That is AWESOME. So awesome. My husband looked at me with his “you are such a nerd I can’t believe you’re laughing out loud at A BLOG POST” look as I read and LAUGHED OUT LOUD AT A BLOG POST.

    Thank you for making my day. And, I’m pretty sure that photo of your little Marlo holding that napkin is WAY cuter than a photo of Peter Frampton holding it.

  • Dude. The only cool celeb moment I have ever had was when I saw Tammy Faye Baker at the Cheesecake Factory in Charlotte, NC. That was like, 5 years ago and I’m still talking about it. You are much, MUCH cooler than me, despite the fact that Frampton shooed you away.

  • Andrea

    I’m crying from laughing so hard. Thanks for making the remaining 56 minutes of my work day more bearable.

  • No fucking way.

  • Erika

    That sounds so cool! That is better than the picture to me. Internet proof that you and Jon are the coolest! And that Marlo is beautiful!

  • jordan

    fucking BRILLIANT post!!!

  • wheezer345

    WOW! Whole lota emotion in that post! Glad it turned out alright.

  • Cat

    I wanna tell you I w
    I wanna tell you I w

    So you realize you’re both famous enough that Peter Frampton recognized you. Right?

  • Liza

    Seriously I have been reading you both for years and have never felt the need to comment but I am sitting here laughing out load from this post. I can picture it exactly as it happened. Brilliant, just brilliant. And he is right – Marlo is gorgeous.

  • mar

    That story is just laugh out loud funny. Too bad I’m at work or I would have laughed out loud even louder.

    And it is just so cool that you got to meet Frampton and then he tweets about you.

  • Katie Kat

    OH MY GOD HEATHER! I know I sound like a broken record (hopefully not a Frampton!), but this is one of your best entries! I have done the same thing, but it involved James Brolin of Marcus Welby, M.D. fame at a celeb tennis tournament. I was about 10 years old and SO IN LOVE with TV’s Dr. Steven Kiley – tall, dark, handsome life saver and there he was… right in front of me in white tennis shorts, sporting a perfect tan and that super suave hair… but when I asked for his autograph, he said “Not right now.” I was CRUSHED and never forgot how he shunned me that day. I think it’s why I never dated and didn’t get married until I was 38.

    Anyway… back to the moment. Thank you for giving me the image of Jon dancing at the baggage claim in front of Peter Frampton. I needed a good laugh today!

  • Jenny

    Of course I know who Peter Frampton is, but who is Kourtney Kardashian?

  • Framptom? FRAMPTOM?!?!?! OMG…WTF…BBQ…One time I saw Illinois Representative Paul Simon at the STL airport…yeah…that was my brush with the famous…yep a politician…not even from my own state…argggggggggh!

    You are so brave and funny and neurotic! I just love your writing! FOLLOW!

  • I had such a crush on Frampton. Oh my god.

  • JBird

    Niiiiiiiiiiiiice. Very nice, you lucky devil. My GOD Marlo is beautiful. The cuteness is overwhelming!!! Is this why mothers turn to mush and act irrational? Because those big eyes look at you and you melt into a pool of muck?

  • MM3

    Fall-down funny story.
    BUT, more importantly. Marlo looks so much like Leta in that photo it’s nearly redonkulous.

  • Jen M

    “Teach Kourtney Kardashian how to change a diaper…”

    Um, was this some kind of high-tech diaper? Cloth? At least something with special, tricky velcro?

    Seriously, I know it’s a problem that many new parents have never held a newborn before going home with their first child these days. But other than the front-to-back / back-to-front thing, how much teaching does this activity require? Changing diapers was about the only thing I felt confident in when we took our daughter home.

  • If Mike doesn’t give you the lifetime supply, he at LEAST owes Marlo!

  • Ok I was ROFLMAO with chest-bumping Danny DeVito, he would totally do it! But getting Martha Stewart to hold your gum, I double dog dare you!

    As for Peter Frampton, so fucking awesome!!!!!!! What a great story. Thank you!

    P.S. Now you know how it feels to get noticed on Twitter by someone you admire. *wink*

  • Sheri

    Great post.

    Frampton story hilarious….

    Marlo ending….PRICELESS. I wasn’t expecting it and laughed out loud…at work.

    Your girls and THOSE EYES. I just can’t get over them.

  • I have read your blog for what seems like my entire adult life although I am probably only teasing myself with the thoughts of youth. I have been reading for probably right at two years. I don’t think I have ever written a comment until today.

    Thank you for this post. It was funny, poignant, tragic, epic and downright brilliant. I think we have all had some sort of celebrity encounter of some sort – be it large or small – but few of us are able to capture the awkwardness, ridiculousness and even mortification of it the way you did.

    After finishing the last word and laughing outloud several times I have decided that it was Frampton who met the real celebrity. With parents like you two, what child is NOT destined to star status (heck, Kathy Griffin got a show didn’t she?)!

  • My coworker just goes “Now I have to Google Peter Frampton because I don’t know who that is.” It made me laugh.

    I LOVE the picture of Marlo, too cute!

  • Great story – but what I really must know is what kind of carseat do you have Marlo in? She totally looks like she doesn’t hate it and my 4 month old haaaaaaates his. Please, do tell.

  • Anonymous

    OMG that story is the best!!! It made me think back to high school when I first heard Frampton Come’s Alive, I love that album. And the Talk Box?? I can’t believe he is coming out with a new CD.

  • Scott M

    Very cool story. Had to go hunt him down on YouTube:

    I, too, am old enough to remember what MONSTER hit that album was. Seriously gigantor.

    Some other thoughts:

    1) Look how skinny he was
    2) Look at how much hair he had
    3) Look how much he resembles Toni Collette!


  • Catherine

    Heather I think you and Jon rock and should I ever run into you at the airport I will totally be the one hiding behind a column with the husband being all like, “don’t bother her, who is she anyway” and I will be forced to slap him.

  • Anonymous

    You are awesome everyday, but this entry might be my favorite ever.

  • Shanna

    I can’t tell you how many times my sister and I begged our Dad to play the “talking guitar” song AGAIN…..We LOVED that album, we loved Peter Frampton. I secretly (or maybe not so secretly) wanted to marry him.

    Marlo is beautiful…those eyes!

  • If you were in any doubt before, it is now official. YOU HAVE MADE IT. Peter Frampton *hearts* your baby.

  • Please get Kourtney to hold up a “I hate Kim’s boring ass sex tape.” sign.

  • HA! no way! He rocks for responding on twitter!

  • I love your life. Talk about surreal.


    That is one of the coolest and craziest stories you’ve posted in a long time. Needless to say, Marlo looks just like her big sister. She is beautiful!!!!
    As for Jon, I hope he manages to come off his cloud sometime before the next century. I guess Marlo will always be the golden child now that she’s been Framptonized…poor Leta:(

  • I just laughed my ass off. Thank you so much for sharing this.

    That is priceless! Who wouldn’t be insanely jealous of you right now?

    And gotta love Marlo in tha pic. =D

  • Alyxherself


  • I’m the other half. The half that does NOT have to Google Peter Frampton.

    I’m deducting years off my age as of … now.


  • delia

    my mom dragged me to the junior high school one year because Peter Frampton was there practicing for a concert he was giving that night. I still have his autograph, even though I had no idea who he was at the ripe old age of 8

  • OMG….that was one of your best posts ever! It was pure gold and to think it all happened to you! I just set my tivo for all of Bonnie Hunt’s shows for like until you are on it. The guide did say Kim Kardashian, I think it was that one, would be on there, but not your name. I gotta get this show.

    And Peter Frampton is a great guy to notice how beautiful Marlo is, too.

  • Jana

    HYSTERICALLY AWESOME! We love Jon’s way…

  • Marlo is the cutest EVER.

  • This is a post for the “Best of Dooce” retrospective that will someday exist. Thank you for ending my work day with this.

  • robyn

    SHUT. UP. Your life is crazy!!

  • Jen Tullis

    Thanks Heather and Jon, I can turn off my computer with a giggle! What a great post!


  • Vee

    That story is surreal. I’ve never met anyone famous on a plane though I always hope to. I’m not sure I’d have recognized Frampton anyway. I would have recognized you, however. Somewhere out there, while you were in Frampton agony, someone was tweeting OMG DOOCE IS ON MY PLANE. Cause you’re #26.

  • AnomAli

    I love Frampton stories! I have one too! Long story short: I am 25ish and live in Cincinnati, which is also where Peter Frampton lives. (Unexpected, yes no?) Anywho, I used to be a server and he came in to the restaurant I worked at from time to time. He came in one afternoon not too long after I started working there and I almost had a nervous breakdown because he was SITTING IN MY SECTION! I immediately ran back to the kitchen and yelled to everyone in the vicinity “PETER EFFING FRAMPTON IS AT MY TABLE! WHAT DO I DO?!” And they all look at me like I’m crazy, because #1-they’ve all seen him there before and #2-obviously none of them were raised by fathers who cared as much about their rock n roll education as mine did. SO I took his lunch order without gushing about how much I loved him and he was incredibly nice and even signed an autograph for my Dad. Also- reeeaalllyy good tipper. It turns out that some rock legends are also just really nice people. Rock on Frampton! Rock on Dooce!

  • Pretty much the raddest story I’ve ever heard. And I do mean rad.

  • Omg that’s so awesome. Almost as good as the one time Usher ignored me while we were on the same flight (Vegas to LA).

    Although – to be fair…I didn’t have the guts to go up to him and say “hi I love your abs” (although that’s what I was thinking)

  • Rike I dooowwww?

  • Honestly Dooce, what is your problem? After last weeks, fiasco, I might have thought you would have learned some manners! Interrupting Peter Frampton with your “blurb”ering “Dooce”ry! …unfollow
    Just Kidding! You rock (and Peter Frampton knows it-maybe he will even write a song for you?)
    On a serious note-I think you should give Marlo some prunes and let that ridiculously average Kardashian change one of Marlo’s amazing diapers!

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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