I have always been an eater. And now I have an excuse.
I wasn't always fond of cooking, but sometime during my senior year in college I picked up the habit and now it is one of my favorite ways to relax. Or it was before it hurt my back to stand for more than an hour. Thanks baby.
B and I always try and eat at home during the week. We tell people it is because we are cheap, but really we are lazy and like to be at home. Eating dinner in our pajamas watching TV.
Because of this, any given Sunday I can be found at the grocery store trying hard to make the trip the only one I make during the week. Most weeks, I am lucky if I only hit the grocery store an additional time.
A few weekends ago, while at home alone as a hunting widow, I happened to flip to Rachael Ray's new show, Week in a Day. I know she is a polarizing personality, and I really haven't made many of her recipes, but I thought the idea was pretty neat. So last week I gave it a shot. But kind of cheated too.
Last week, we had B's family goulash (I have not idea how that is spelled) which is completely different than my family's version, but really quite good. We also had crock pot gumbo, another favorite of our house. How did I cheat? I made enough goulash for 3 dinners and gumbo took over another 2 nights, which gave us a bonus night. I was pretty proud of myself because it is virtually impossible to have leftovers in this house as I married the original bottomless pit. B will sit back in defeat claiming fullness, and I will find him an hour later with his head in the fridge.
Anyway, I was very happy that I was able to make the goulash on Sunday afternoon and prep the gumbo recipe so all I had to do on Wednesday morning was dump and heat. This week I am trying again, but this week involves more cooking. As I type, I am 1.5 meals down of 3. This week will be Swedish meatballs, crab cakes, and turkey burger casserole. Also this week, I am basically cooking everything all the way, except the crab cakes which are mixed and refrigerated, and the stored for use this week.
If this week works out as last week did, then I will have no excuse for not working out, even on nights when I don't leave the office until 7 or later. This makes me very happy.
So, I wanted to ask the 3 of you out there that read this, do you have any good casserole or crock pot recipes I should rotate in? I am desperate to come up with some sort of menu rotation that expands out choices of food past 2 weeks.
Also, later this week, there will be a shoe post, and as of now, none are being shilled by a shoe cult. I am very excited about it.
Happy new week!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Passive Aggressive
*Unrelated Note of Importance* Gina is alive and well, I promise. She recently went back to our former profession, which sounds worse than it is, but this is considered "busy season" and she is lucky to see her house, dog, or fiance for more than 4 hours a day. That and the fact that she is diligently planning her wedding, makees her an unreliable blogger for the time being. She will be back. Promise.
So I am going to tell you a little story. It starts like this.
Once upon the early summer of 2010, there was a girl, relatively unknown to most, who was in a seemingly abusive relationship. After all, when she cried "it is never okay to hit a woman, ever" everyone listened. As they should. She received lots of support, but decided not to go into details with most as to what transpired that fateful night.
A few months later, this girl was given the gift of happiness yet again and she announced to her friends that she was happy yet again and sporting some shiny new hardware on that all important finger. Again, not wanting to pry too much, her friends offered their genuine congratulations and kept their surprise at the timing well hidden. She was happy, and timing does not matter.
The wedding planning began immediately, and a date was set. The date was a little over a year and a half, but planning is half the fun, right? Each moment of planning was shared with those around her, pictures of her dress were "ooh-ed and ahhh-ed" by the masses. The engagement seemed to be carrying on perfectly. There were countless date nights and they were publicly affectionate.
The holiday season came and went with updates on new traditions being born for their future family as well as the initiation into each other's family happenings.
Then suddenly, with no warning to her friends, an announcement was made that she was in a dark place, stricken with grief and mourning over what could have been. Questions were asked, but none were answered for days. Eventually she explained to those that cared for her that she would contact them when she was ready, but please do not contact her. This was met with understanding and many began to assume the loss involved the engagement.
Days passed and suddenly the second (third?) stage of grief was entered full steam. Anger, honest anger was spewed towards the former loved one. This went on for about a week, then acceptance moved in. After acceptance came the rationalization. To herself, likely, but to her friends definitely. Friends were asked to not bash the former flame, to let her move forward and grow from the experience. So far, everything seemed to play out as it should.
Then the bashing returned. And along with the bashing, the accusations of potential stalking and horrible acts. None described in detail, but the allusions were clear as day.
Finally, she reprimanded her friends for discussing her story with others. And shame on them for asking questions and did someone really just speak to one of his friends? How dare they!
Is this familiar to anyone else? Reminiscient of a high school breakup perhaps? Or gossip overheard by a teenager speaking loudly on their cell phone?
For me, it is the musings of a Facebook *friend* who I have absilutely no memory of from wherever it was I once met or knew her. As an aside, I have an accept policy on FB for anyone I recognize or that more than a handful of my good real life friend's have confirmed. I also freely use the Ignore button, but I have kept these posts unhidden for the entertainment value alone.
I don't consider anyone in any sort of abusive relationship a form of entertainment. In fact, I sent a private message to the girl last summer to offer help if she needed it. I also don't doubt her story in any way, lest I be accused of that. The moral to my story is really only that I am offended you chose to berate me and your other 367 friends for "not respecting her privacy by sharing her page with others (obviously this was directed to someone other than me as I am just now writing this post!)" and "keep your opinions to yourself as they are clearly irrelevant and if they differ than mine feel free to use the ignore button." Really? You tell me and the equivalent of the population of West, TX 3 times over every freaking detail of your life, but we aren't respecting your privacy?
Good grief.
And here I am waiting for her next post. There is a 50-50 chance she is "turning over a new leaf and leaving the past behind with love and respect." My money is on "You can all go to hell for staying friends with the ex." She is due for a pissy comment any minute now.
Do you have *friends* like these, or am I the only lucky one?
*also, spell check isn't working, so I apologize for all horribly splled words. Way too lazy to proof read*
So I am going to tell you a little story. It starts like this.
Once upon the early summer of 2010, there was a girl, relatively unknown to most, who was in a seemingly abusive relationship. After all, when she cried "it is never okay to hit a woman, ever" everyone listened. As they should. She received lots of support, but decided not to go into details with most as to what transpired that fateful night.
A few months later, this girl was given the gift of happiness yet again and she announced to her friends that she was happy yet again and sporting some shiny new hardware on that all important finger. Again, not wanting to pry too much, her friends offered their genuine congratulations and kept their surprise at the timing well hidden. She was happy, and timing does not matter.
The wedding planning began immediately, and a date was set. The date was a little over a year and a half, but planning is half the fun, right? Each moment of planning was shared with those around her, pictures of her dress were "ooh-ed and ahhh-ed" by the masses. The engagement seemed to be carrying on perfectly. There were countless date nights and they were publicly affectionate.
The holiday season came and went with updates on new traditions being born for their future family as well as the initiation into each other's family happenings.
Then suddenly, with no warning to her friends, an announcement was made that she was in a dark place, stricken with grief and mourning over what could have been. Questions were asked, but none were answered for days. Eventually she explained to those that cared for her that she would contact them when she was ready, but please do not contact her. This was met with understanding and many began to assume the loss involved the engagement.
Days passed and suddenly the second (third?) stage of grief was entered full steam. Anger, honest anger was spewed towards the former loved one. This went on for about a week, then acceptance moved in. After acceptance came the rationalization. To herself, likely, but to her friends definitely. Friends were asked to not bash the former flame, to let her move forward and grow from the experience. So far, everything seemed to play out as it should.
Then the bashing returned. And along with the bashing, the accusations of potential stalking and horrible acts. None described in detail, but the allusions were clear as day.
Finally, she reprimanded her friends for discussing her story with others. And shame on them for asking questions and did someone really just speak to one of his friends? How dare they!
Is this familiar to anyone else? Reminiscient of a high school breakup perhaps? Or gossip overheard by a teenager speaking loudly on their cell phone?
For me, it is the musings of a Facebook *friend* who I have absilutely no memory of from wherever it was I once met or knew her. As an aside, I have an accept policy on FB for anyone I recognize or that more than a handful of my good real life friend's have confirmed. I also freely use the Ignore button, but I have kept these posts unhidden for the entertainment value alone.
I don't consider anyone in any sort of abusive relationship a form of entertainment. In fact, I sent a private message to the girl last summer to offer help if she needed it. I also don't doubt her story in any way, lest I be accused of that. The moral to my story is really only that I am offended you chose to berate me and your other 367 friends for "not respecting her privacy by sharing her page with others (obviously this was directed to someone other than me as I am just now writing this post!)" and "keep your opinions to yourself as they are clearly irrelevant and if they differ than mine feel free to use the ignore button." Really? You tell me and the equivalent of the population of West, TX 3 times over every freaking detail of your life, but we aren't respecting your privacy?
Good grief.
And here I am waiting for her next post. There is a 50-50 chance she is "turning over a new leaf and leaving the past behind with love and respect." My money is on "You can all go to hell for staying friends with the ex." She is due for a pissy comment any minute now.
Do you have *friends* like these, or am I the only lucky one?
*also, spell check isn't working, so I apologize for all horribly splled words. Way too lazy to proof read*
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Stylish New Fashion Trend
This post has no point, and for that I apologize. I am sitting here eating a glazed donut in lieu of doing a yoga DVD, but only because the dog hasn't figured out how to use his new dog house and it is hovering above freezing so I feel bad putting him outside after just letting him in. And everyone knows you can't do yoga with a 130 pound lab interested in what you are doing. So donut and blogging it is.
Pajama pants in public. That is what I want to talk about.
Over the holidays I did a little shopping around town and noticed this trend. At the time, I thought maybe these kids were college students home on break and all of their decent pants were being washed at their parents house and so pyjama pants had to do in a pinch. Ok, fine. At least you are somewhat covered, but I reserve the right to side-eye you for trying to tuck your polka dot flannel pants into your Uggs.
Then last night, I was picking up dinner for B and I at a local grill/burger joint. As I walk out, in walks 3 high school age girls. One wearing jeans and a big coat. One wearing a short skirt, bright colored tights and a long sleeve shirt. She looked cold, but also looked as though she put some thought into her outfit. Kind of as if she wanted to look cute in case she ran into some boy she had a crush on. I mean, why else would a 15 yr old brave 30 degree temps in little more than a flimsy layer of rayon?
The third girl? Pajama pants. And a long-sleeved t-shirt. Not even a hoodie. The other two looked like they could have just come from a library, while this one looked like she was woken from a deep sleep. Bad hair and all. Hopefully her teeth had been brushed within the last 12 hours, but I wouldn't have put money on that.
At the time I wondered if her friends were embarrassed by their hobo-esque tag along. The I had the chilling thought that maybe this was a "look" and then I silently prayed I was incubating a male and would only need to worry about the inevitable "I don't care if it is considered 'cool' but you will not have that Bieber hair cut and no son of mine will have hair reminiscent of a Beatle, ever!" Girls can be hard, I was one.
Anyway, tonight I stopped into the grocery store on the way home for my short list of things the house was in need of (re: milk and dog food) and in the process of forgetting the dog food, but picking up a 6 pack of glazed donuts (seriously $1.99 for 6 totally beat out the $0.39 each in the case), I saw another unfortunate soul dressed for slumber. And this one was post high school age. I think. She was wearing something which looked an awful lot like a letterman's jacket, but without the patches, so I couldn't really tell. Anyway, girl was in too tight t-shirt, ragged grey pajama pants, and flip flops. Oh, and the pleather jacket missing the school identification.
Seriously, WTF? Pajama pants as acceptable outerwear?
I get the yoga pants thing. For one, if you are wearing something equally as casual on top, it can never be discounted that you are on your way to or from the gym. Yay you. Second, yoga pants are generally figure friendly. Pajama pants? Even the girls in VS look a little bit frumpy in the magazine. *Sidenote - the girls in VS are like 6 feet tall, yes? Why then when I order pajamas from VS, the pants are ankle height, if not higher, and I am only 5'6?*
Maybe yoga pants were the precursor to pajama pants. Kind of like the shiny metallic windsuits from the early 90's were the precursor to tracksuits? No?
And now there are pajama jeans? Woah. "The stylish new fashion trend!" Oh goodness. I almost want to buy a pair to make fun of them, but I don't want to waste $39.95... even with the promise of the free t-shirt.
I am lazy by nature, so I get the throw on the closest thing way of life, but generally that means you still change clothes after you get out of bed. At some point, at least, before you leave the house. Right? Am I just crazy?
Pajama pants in public. That is what I want to talk about.
Over the holidays I did a little shopping around town and noticed this trend. At the time, I thought maybe these kids were college students home on break and all of their decent pants were being washed at their parents house and so pyjama pants had to do in a pinch. Ok, fine. At least you are somewhat covered, but I reserve the right to side-eye you for trying to tuck your polka dot flannel pants into your Uggs.
Then last night, I was picking up dinner for B and I at a local grill/burger joint. As I walk out, in walks 3 high school age girls. One wearing jeans and a big coat. One wearing a short skirt, bright colored tights and a long sleeve shirt. She looked cold, but also looked as though she put some thought into her outfit. Kind of as if she wanted to look cute in case she ran into some boy she had a crush on. I mean, why else would a 15 yr old brave 30 degree temps in little more than a flimsy layer of rayon?
The third girl? Pajama pants. And a long-sleeved t-shirt. Not even a hoodie. The other two looked like they could have just come from a library, while this one looked like she was woken from a deep sleep. Bad hair and all. Hopefully her teeth had been brushed within the last 12 hours, but I wouldn't have put money on that.
At the time I wondered if her friends were embarrassed by their hobo-esque tag along. The I had the chilling thought that maybe this was a "look" and then I silently prayed I was incubating a male and would only need to worry about the inevitable "I don't care if it is considered 'cool' but you will not have that Bieber hair cut and no son of mine will have hair reminiscent of a Beatle, ever!" Girls can be hard, I was one.
Anyway, tonight I stopped into the grocery store on the way home for my short list of things the house was in need of (re: milk and dog food) and in the process of forgetting the dog food, but picking up a 6 pack of glazed donuts (seriously $1.99 for 6 totally beat out the $0.39 each in the case), I saw another unfortunate soul dressed for slumber. And this one was post high school age. I think. She was wearing something which looked an awful lot like a letterman's jacket, but without the patches, so I couldn't really tell. Anyway, girl was in too tight t-shirt, ragged grey pajama pants, and flip flops. Oh, and the pleather jacket missing the school identification.
Seriously, WTF? Pajama pants as acceptable outerwear?
I get the yoga pants thing. For one, if you are wearing something equally as casual on top, it can never be discounted that you are on your way to or from the gym. Yay you. Second, yoga pants are generally figure friendly. Pajama pants? Even the girls in VS look a little bit frumpy in the magazine. *Sidenote - the girls in VS are like 6 feet tall, yes? Why then when I order pajamas from VS, the pants are ankle height, if not higher, and I am only 5'6?*
Maybe yoga pants were the precursor to pajama pants. Kind of like the shiny metallic windsuits from the early 90's were the precursor to tracksuits? No?
And now there are pajama jeans? Woah. "The stylish new fashion trend!" Oh goodness. I almost want to buy a pair to make fun of them, but I don't want to waste $39.95... even with the promise of the free t-shirt.
I am lazy by nature, so I get the throw on the closest thing way of life, but generally that means you still change clothes after you get out of bed. At some point, at least, before you leave the house. Right? Am I just crazy?
Friday, January 7, 2011
Things I have learned about being pregnant
I swear this blog will not turn pregnancy on you. But it is kind of consuming my thoughts lately, so you might get stuck with it once in a while. I promise to warn you so you can skip right over, m'kay?
So I have read a lot of pregnancy blogs, and blogs where people got knocked up, and I have 3 nieces and have been very active in their lives. I felt like I had a *good* idea of what to expect. And mostly I have been ok, but let me tell you there are things I never knew about.
1. The no allergy medicine.
Seriously, WTF? I can't breathe. I am sneezing constantly. It happens to be mountain cedar time and on a scale of 1 to 10, I am about a 12 on allergic to MC. And grass, which basically means there is no off-season for my sinuses.
2. The acne
Oh Em Geezlouise, my skin. Not to brag too much, but I have always had pretty good skin. People remark on my skin all the time. Apparently I had no idea how good I had it because 29 years of minor acne has come back to explode ALL OVER MY BODY. I am gross. B offered to buy me a massage, but I would feel too guilty that someone would have to touch that. Gross. Oh, and the fancy Neutrogena Skin ID I was in love with? Can't use it because it has Salicylic Acid in it. Or benzoil peroxide, which is a no-no. But seriously, if you are looking for a product to clear your non-pregnant skin, I highly suggest Neutrogena Skin ID... great stuff.
3. Pregnancy Tests are not all or nothing
So I joined a pregnancy/baby site about the time we started attempting this whole process. This is where I learned more about my cycle than I have ever known before. I also learned there are commonly used acronyms such as BD (baby dance) and POAS (pee on a stick). I find BD creepy, but think POAS is hilarious. I don't know why.
I digress. Did you know that just because you don't see a second line on a pregnancy test that you still might, in fact, be pregnant? You did? I didn't. But there are people out there that have skillz in the photo editing scene that can take a pregnancy test that 3 years ago I would have seen and immediately followed up with a "Phew, who wants to go to happy hour?" and after turning the photo kind of glow in the darkish can find a second line. And these lines turn into positive tests in a few days? Blew me away.
4. Other pregnant people are really cranky
On this same site is a community board where you can shoot the constipated (yep, another fun fact) sh*t with other baby makers. These people have opinions. And their opinions are that everything you are doing is wrong. I hear this phenomenon continues into motherhood, so I guess I should buy a few more pairs of big girls panties that I keep hearing people say to put on.
4.5 In Laws
Also, these same people have an entire board dealing with crazy in-laws and families. Train Wreck. And addicting. I highly suggest the next time you find yourself bored and tired of facebook, sign up for baby-center and watch the fireworks. Unbelievable.
5. Exhaustion/Sympathy Pains
These wouldn't normally go together, but at my house they do. I have always been a napper. I love to sleep and have no problem spending a Friday night in bed at 8:30. Sleep is my favorite hobby. But man, I have never in my life been this tired. Luckily B is exhausted too. It may be due to the hormonal shifts he accuses me of having every day, I don't know what he is talking about, but I am ready for bed early. He is typically the first to suggest lying down for the evening. I had to put my foot down Tuesday when he suggested this at 7:12 pm. In his defense he had no idea what time it was, and had I not looked at my watch, I would have been all over that idea. He has also been in need of more back rubs lately due to unknown reasons as well as no longer sleeping. I don't sleep either thanks to the psycho dreams this baby gives me, so I think he has sympathy insomnia. Which is BS because he can take Ambien and I cannot.
Anyone out there have any other warnings for me? I think I am handling this pretty good so far, but what do I know. Apparently I am doing it all wrong anyway!
Happy Friday, and if you get some spare time to nap, please do so with me in mind. I am trying to stockpile all the sleep I can, even if it isn't MY sleep!
So I have read a lot of pregnancy blogs, and blogs where people got knocked up, and I have 3 nieces and have been very active in their lives. I felt like I had a *good* idea of what to expect. And mostly I have been ok, but let me tell you there are things I never knew about.
1. The no allergy medicine.
Seriously, WTF? I can't breathe. I am sneezing constantly. It happens to be mountain cedar time and on a scale of 1 to 10, I am about a 12 on allergic to MC. And grass, which basically means there is no off-season for my sinuses.
2. The acne
Oh Em Geezlouise, my skin. Not to brag too much, but I have always had pretty good skin. People remark on my skin all the time. Apparently I had no idea how good I had it because 29 years of minor acne has come back to explode ALL OVER MY BODY. I am gross. B offered to buy me a massage, but I would feel too guilty that someone would have to touch that. Gross. Oh, and the fancy Neutrogena Skin ID I was in love with? Can't use it because it has Salicylic Acid in it. Or benzoil peroxide, which is a no-no. But seriously, if you are looking for a product to clear your non-pregnant skin, I highly suggest Neutrogena Skin ID... great stuff.
3. Pregnancy Tests are not all or nothing
So I joined a pregnancy/baby site about the time we started attempting this whole process. This is where I learned more about my cycle than I have ever known before. I also learned there are commonly used acronyms such as BD (baby dance) and POAS (pee on a stick). I find BD creepy, but think POAS is hilarious. I don't know why.
I digress. Did you know that just because you don't see a second line on a pregnancy test that you still might, in fact, be pregnant? You did? I didn't. But there are people out there that have skillz in the photo editing scene that can take a pregnancy test that 3 years ago I would have seen and immediately followed up with a "Phew, who wants to go to happy hour?" and after turning the photo kind of glow in the darkish can find a second line. And these lines turn into positive tests in a few days? Blew me away.
4. Other pregnant people are really cranky
On this same site is a community board where you can shoot the constipated (yep, another fun fact) sh*t with other baby makers. These people have opinions. And their opinions are that everything you are doing is wrong. I hear this phenomenon continues into motherhood, so I guess I should buy a few more pairs of big girls panties that I keep hearing people say to put on.
4.5 In Laws
Also, these same people have an entire board dealing with crazy in-laws and families. Train Wreck. And addicting. I highly suggest the next time you find yourself bored and tired of facebook, sign up for baby-center and watch the fireworks. Unbelievable.
5. Exhaustion/Sympathy Pains
These wouldn't normally go together, but at my house they do. I have always been a napper. I love to sleep and have no problem spending a Friday night in bed at 8:30. Sleep is my favorite hobby. But man, I have never in my life been this tired. Luckily B is exhausted too. It may be due to the hormonal shifts he accuses me of having every day, I don't know what he is talking about, but I am ready for bed early. He is typically the first to suggest lying down for the evening. I had to put my foot down Tuesday when he suggested this at 7:12 pm. In his defense he had no idea what time it was, and had I not looked at my watch, I would have been all over that idea. He has also been in need of more back rubs lately due to unknown reasons as well as no longer sleeping. I don't sleep either thanks to the psycho dreams this baby gives me, so I think he has sympathy insomnia. Which is BS because he can take Ambien and I cannot.
Anyone out there have any other warnings for me? I think I am handling this pretty good so far, but what do I know. Apparently I am doing it all wrong anyway!
Happy Friday, and if you get some spare time to nap, please do so with me in mind. I am trying to stockpile all the sleep I can, even if it isn't MY sleep!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Excuses, Excuses. Alternately titled: Suck It Herbstreit.
So clearly we have been MIA. Apologies. We have been a little busy around here.
Wedding planning has become central to Gina's thoughts, as it should, and she has been working hard on creating the most amazing wedding invites (I will let her tell you about them) and working on getting wedding skinny for the big day.
Meanwhile, I am working on getting as fat as possible for her big day. Seriously, I elastic pants are a Godsend. It has taken a lot of work to look like this, and I am damn proud. Really. While Gina has been taking cross-fit classes and crafting wedding details, I have been busy getting knocked up. 3 months down, 6-ish to go.
We will be back more often this year, but will try to make our appearances worth it. And likely with less Shoesday posts, until we find a new site that provides shoes you can actually wear more than 8 hours at a time.
We hope you all had a great holiday and new year! Hopefully you got to see at least a part of the Rose Bowl where my Horned Frogs played their game and beat the big bad Big Ten team, while repeatedly being called the little guy and kicked to the curb by 50% of the Game Day crew. How do you like us now Herbstreit? What do you think ESPN? Looking like a bad idea to sell Wisconsin 2011 Rose Bowl winner shirts a week before the game was played, huh? Asshats.
I am off to get a breakfast taco. Eating really is the best part of pregnancy.
Fatty love,
C
Wedding planning has become central to Gina's thoughts, as it should, and she has been working hard on creating the most amazing wedding invites (I will let her tell you about them) and working on getting wedding skinny for the big day.
Meanwhile, I am working on getting as fat as possible for her big day. Seriously, I elastic pants are a Godsend. It has taken a lot of work to look like this, and I am damn proud. Really. While Gina has been taking cross-fit classes and crafting wedding details, I have been busy getting knocked up. 3 months down, 6-ish to go.
We will be back more often this year, but will try to make our appearances worth it. And likely with less Shoesday posts, until we find a new site that provides shoes you can actually wear more than 8 hours at a time.
We hope you all had a great holiday and new year! Hopefully you got to see at least a part of the Rose Bowl where my Horned Frogs played their game and beat the big bad Big Ten team, while repeatedly being called the little guy and kicked to the curb by 50% of the Game Day crew. How do you like us now Herbstreit? What do you think ESPN? Looking like a bad idea to sell Wisconsin 2011 Rose Bowl winner shirts a week before the game was played, huh? Asshats.
I am off to get a breakfast taco. Eating really is the best part of pregnancy.
Fatty love,
C
Monday, October 11, 2010
A list of absolutely nothing
Hi-ho! We have been busy doing things that would only bore you to tears to recap in detail. So I will spare you, mostly.
When recalling the events of last week, all I could come up with was this:
See? Nothing of any importance going on here.
When recalling the events of last week, all I could come up with was this:
- Melatonin doesn't work. Period
- OTC sleeping pills are better.
- Restless Leg Syndrome will counteract OTC sleeping pills.
- The only plausible explanation for having RLS at 29 is that my body ages in dog years.
- In that case, it is a miracle I am even alive.
- You can tell when people were praying for you to get a hair cut by the sheer enthusiasm at seeing your new do.
- You can tell when people do not like your new haircut because they look at you, smile, and ask politely "do YOU like it?"
- I now actually have to style my hair. Like a real life grown up. And it kind of sucks.
- The flu/sinus infection thing I have going on is the complete opposite of sexy.
- The couple on the Tempurpedic Mattress commercial are entirely too excited to learn how a DVD works.
- Also, who sleeps on a mattress without sheets other than college age boys?
- My dog can disconnect the hose from the spout. He is Houdini reincarnated.
- With LiLo in the looney bin, TMZ has absolutely nothing to write about. Which? Makes me more productive... so yay?
See? Nothing of any importance going on here.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
This post is held together losely by hygiene
Today I finally worked up the nerve to tell the girl from 2 offices over that her hygiene practices were not okay. I realize this is a touchy subject and I would have been happy to leave the issue unspoken, however my throat was getting scratchy from the vom each time I witnessed this.
You see, this girl and I cross paths in the bathroom on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day. And the small two stall bathroom affords us the misfortune of knowing exactly who is in the bathroom and whether or not washing of hands occurs. Typically, I could really care less if you don't want to wash your hands after you go to the bathroom. I will pass silent judgment on you, but it is your prerogative. Except in this instance where to exit the bathroom I must pull the door handle. Not to mention we just paid a small fortune to install hand dryers to help with our green initiative, so we are all trying to not use the paper hand towels. But after seeing this girl use the restroom, check her hair in the mirror and exit the bathroom by grasping the door handle with her unwashed hands over and over, I have had to resort to using at least one towel to pull the door open and exit. And then I have a trash can full of towels in my office at the end of the day.
I am really grossed out by this.
And then she totally crapped on my hygienic high ground today.
I walked into the bathroom after lunch and she was washing her hands. I even saw her use soap.
As I shut the stall door, I was suddenly overcome with relief that I didn't have to be that asshole who publicly brings up the fact that she is plain gross.
And then, after washing her hands, she dried them in the air dryer. And then? She entered the other stall, relieved herself, left the stall, checked her hair in the mirror and walked out.
The F?
Who washes their hands before going to the bathroom only to not wash them after?
I was so incredibly shocked by this I lost all nerve to say anything. And I continued vom fest 2010. Except, not the vom fest that causes weight loss, which is also annoying.
Anywho.
I apologize for sharing that nightmare, but really? This is backwards, no?
In other news, I have a hair appointment Saturday for the first time in 5 months. My hair is a rats nest of stringiness.
I figure since I turn 30 in 9 months, and I have a professional job (although I no longer have to wear suits, thank God) I should start looking like I give a crap with my appearance.
Here is where I need help.
I have a lot of fine hair. And is hangs straight. Occasionally, my hair bends one way or another, but basically doesn't curl. Except for when I spray it within an inch of the ozone. And I don't want to single handedly speed up global warming.
Here is a picture of me from my wedding rehearsal so you can see my face shape. It is blurry because I cut and paint in MS Paint. Old School Baby.
Also, you should probably know I have like 20% control over my hair. My stylist has done my hair since 7th grade and I trust her implicitly. And she knows this, so if she is not on board, it isn't happening. Case in point: last April I asked for bangs. I had no bangs when I left.
You see, this girl and I cross paths in the bathroom on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day. And the small two stall bathroom affords us the misfortune of knowing exactly who is in the bathroom and whether or not washing of hands occurs. Typically, I could really care less if you don't want to wash your hands after you go to the bathroom. I will pass silent judgment on you, but it is your prerogative. Except in this instance where to exit the bathroom I must pull the door handle. Not to mention we just paid a small fortune to install hand dryers to help with our green initiative, so we are all trying to not use the paper hand towels. But after seeing this girl use the restroom, check her hair in the mirror and exit the bathroom by grasping the door handle with her unwashed hands over and over, I have had to resort to using at least one towel to pull the door open and exit. And then I have a trash can full of towels in my office at the end of the day.
I am really grossed out by this.
And then she totally crapped on my hygienic high ground today.
I walked into the bathroom after lunch and she was washing her hands. I even saw her use soap.
As I shut the stall door, I was suddenly overcome with relief that I didn't have to be that asshole who publicly brings up the fact that she is plain gross.
And then, after washing her hands, she dried them in the air dryer. And then? She entered the other stall, relieved herself, left the stall, checked her hair in the mirror and walked out.
The F?
Who washes their hands before going to the bathroom only to not wash them after?
I was so incredibly shocked by this I lost all nerve to say anything. And I continued vom fest 2010. Except, not the vom fest that causes weight loss, which is also annoying.
Anywho.
I apologize for sharing that nightmare, but really? This is backwards, no?
In other news, I have a hair appointment Saturday for the first time in 5 months. My hair is a rats nest of stringiness.
I figure since I turn 30 in 9 months, and I have a professional job (although I no longer have to wear suits, thank God) I should start looking like I give a crap with my appearance.
Here is where I need help.
I have a lot of fine hair. And is hangs straight. Occasionally, my hair bends one way or another, but basically doesn't curl. Except for when I spray it within an inch of the ozone. And I don't want to single handedly speed up global warming.
Here is a picture of me from my wedding rehearsal so you can see my face shape. It is blurry because I cut and paint in MS Paint. Old School Baby.
Also, you should probably know I have like 20% control over my hair. My stylist has done my hair since 7th grade and I trust her implicitly. And she knows this, so if she is not on board, it isn't happening. Case in point: last April I asked for bangs. I had no bangs when I left.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Are you a cat?
So last night I unknowingly participated in the dentist-given-hallucinatory drugs.
Let me back up...
I spent all weekend in and out of consciousness on the couch. The third time I fell asleep mid-sentence was apparently B's first clue that these weren't just naps. I love a good nap, but rarely ever *need* a nap. I needed 5 over Saturday and Sunday apparently.
Monday at work, I started to feel my day go straight into slow motion. Complete with voices lowering a few octaves. I remember working until about 7, heading home, and then? Nothing.
Tuesday I call B from work and tell him I just want to catch up because we didn't get to talk last night. He corrects me. Apparently we *talked* for quite a while, and I continued to *talk* all night. According to B, I witnessed a helicopter crash, the dog needed to go to the vet, and something about the car selling cupcakes. I must be busy in my alternate universe. I blame it on the potentially fatal flu I am convinced I am coming down with.
Last night, still feeling flu-ish, and also having just welcomed in my monthly *original sin*, (B's term, not mine), I crawl into bed and turn on the DVRed Raising Hope. B missed the premier last week, but finds the show hilarious, which I think causes him to forget to confiscate the remote when the show ends. He gets up for a second to get water and I see my chance to start Glee.
I ask nicely when he returns if I can watch a few minutes until I fall asleep. He agrees. I think at this point he realized my psychotic dreams were sure to be entertaining enough he could suffer through a few minutes of Glee.
Here is where the hallucinating begins again:
Just after Britney finishes singing Britney and Asks Uncle Jesse "Are you a cat?" I hear a faint man giggle.
I avoid looking at him, because I don't want to spoil the moment. And I also realize I am probably just hearing things through my medicine induced lethargy.
Then, as I start to fade into dreamworld (sorry Glee, but the meds were STRONG), I hear Finn say to Rachel, "Are you asking me to choose between you and football?" After she responds, I distinctly hear B mumble, "Well that isn't fair. How could she ask him that?"
Oh Em Gee my husband is involved in Glee. How strong are these drugs?
When the show ended, I took a chance to find out whether or not this fake version of my husband was a figment of my intoxication or if he was real.
Thanks for letting me watch all of Glee. That was very nice of you, I know it isn't your favorite show.
I don't mind. It is actually a good show once you get past the strangeness of guys breaking into song in football pads.
Oh, well good then.
Clearly there was a chemical spill near my office on Monday that unleashed gallons of dentist happy juice into the air.
I sure hope it doesn't wear off soon.
Let me back up...
I spent all weekend in and out of consciousness on the couch. The third time I fell asleep mid-sentence was apparently B's first clue that these weren't just naps. I love a good nap, but rarely ever *need* a nap. I needed 5 over Saturday and Sunday apparently.
Monday at work, I started to feel my day go straight into slow motion. Complete with voices lowering a few octaves. I remember working until about 7, heading home, and then? Nothing.
Tuesday I call B from work and tell him I just want to catch up because we didn't get to talk last night. He corrects me. Apparently we *talked* for quite a while, and I continued to *talk* all night. According to B, I witnessed a helicopter crash, the dog needed to go to the vet, and something about the car selling cupcakes. I must be busy in my alternate universe. I blame it on the potentially fatal flu I am convinced I am coming down with.
Last night, still feeling flu-ish, and also having just welcomed in my monthly *original sin*, (B's term, not mine), I crawl into bed and turn on the DVRed Raising Hope. B missed the premier last week, but finds the show hilarious, which I think causes him to forget to confiscate the remote when the show ends. He gets up for a second to get water and I see my chance to start Glee.
I ask nicely when he returns if I can watch a few minutes until I fall asleep. He agrees. I think at this point he realized my psychotic dreams were sure to be entertaining enough he could suffer through a few minutes of Glee.
Here is where the hallucinating begins again:
Just after Britney finishes singing Britney and Asks Uncle Jesse "Are you a cat?" I hear a faint man giggle.
I avoid looking at him, because I don't want to spoil the moment. And I also realize I am probably just hearing things through my medicine induced lethargy.
Then, as I start to fade into dreamworld (sorry Glee, but the meds were STRONG), I hear Finn say to Rachel, "Are you asking me to choose between you and football?" After she responds, I distinctly hear B mumble, "Well that isn't fair. How could she ask him that?"
Oh Em Gee my husband is involved in Glee. How strong are these drugs?
When the show ended, I took a chance to find out whether or not this fake version of my husband was a figment of my intoxication or if he was real.
Thanks for letting me watch all of Glee. That was very nice of you, I know it isn't your favorite show.
I don't mind. It is actually a good show once you get past the strangeness of guys breaking into song in football pads.
Oh, well good then.
Clearly there was a chemical spill near my office on Monday that unleashed gallons of dentist happy juice into the air.
I sure hope it doesn't wear off soon.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Everything I never wanted to know I learned on Facebook
I am not perfect. This I know and readily admit. I have many faults, one being my penchant for gossip and unquenchable desire to know the story behind everything.
I have been trying to keep my thoughts and judgments out of other people's business. I have tried to not bring up any gossip unless it is good news about someone that can be construed as sharing in their excitement.
Facebook is killing me.
These are things that I can live with and not feel the great urge to gossip about.
What I can't live with and simultaneously try to be a good person? The Oversharers.
The guy who has an affair on MY friend. Who, on the very day the divorce is finalized changes his formerly hidden relationship status to "in a serious relationship" with the other woman. The guy who boasted of his 1 year anniversary with this same woman when his marriage failed only 10 months before. The guy who has now proposed to this woman. The woman who leaves messages on his status decrying her luck at finding such a classy and wonderful man.
The girl, who I can't place from my past but who befriended me. The girl who over the late summer months went on a status update frenzy posting about how it is never okay to hit someone, and how it is a strong woman who walks away from a bad relationship. Her status changed from in a relationship to single in between these posts. Daily posts were pro-female voicing how she was better off without that loser. Then today she reveals she is engaged. And none of her other friends seem surprised in their posts?!?
It is my *friends* like the above who make daily posts that send my brain off to crazy land while I try and figure out how their lives play out. It takes emails from Gina to remind me that it is not appropriate to email these people and ask, why in the name of monkeys are you airing out your life decisions. But, while you are airing out these happenings, could you pretty please explain more because, seriously, you are giving my overactive imagination just enough rope...
It makes me very happy that I was not apprised of such social networks while I was dating. The *official* relationship status on Facebook has me utterly confused. In my life, we had the DTR (determine the relationship) talk prior to using the term boyfriend or girlfriend. Do you now ask the other person if you are facebook official, or do you wait for them to change their status first? And how do you deal with the friend status after a breakup? Do you stay friends? Do you block your ex? How many days do you leave pictures up? Oh the insanity.
I am not complaining as without facebook I would feel completely out of the touch with the world. Also, I would miss such gems as the *like* button of which my favorite use was when a friend's status was *liked* when he went from being in a relationship to being single. Nothing says, "Dude that girl was a lifesuck" more than liking a breakup.
What I need? Is a way to subtly convince these people to write a blog so I can get to the bottom of this madness. Without them knowing I care of course.
Is that too much to ask?
I am the only one that feels this way?
- I know that an acquaintance of mine is due to have her 2nd child any day now, and I also know what he son had for dinner tonight.
- I know that another acquaintance's newborn son is sick, and I feel awful about knowing that. But I wish her and the baby nothing but the best.
- I know when the latest engagement occurs.
- I see pictures from weddings that I wasn't able to attend.
- I know what my ex is doing on any given day.
- I know that two former classmates hooked up at our class reunion last year while one of the two was still in a relationship.
- I know that entirely too many people in this world do not understand the correct usage of there, they're, and their.
- I know people log a lot of hours on farmville when they should probably be working.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Quick. How many phone numbers do YOU know by heart?
Do you remember when the sole source of telephone communication was the home phone?
I remember being so very very excited that my parents gave me my own phone line in high school. That same phone line is now the fax line for my Dad's business. (Justin R. Timberlake faxes important shit daily.)
I can easily remember when my friends in high school had pagers because cell phones were like iPads... the cool new thing that you wanted but your parents told you were too expensive for a child your age. And yes, I am looking through my cheap ass rose colored glasses and am pretending that 80% of students at my old high school do not actually own iPads, humor me, I am old and cheap.
Now? I can barely function without the use of my cell phone. My husband told me in the nicest way possible that he could that I may have a slight problem with technology rage and that normal people do not react to slow internet uploads with such fury. Personally, I feel that he is overreacting to my overreacting, but that is a post for another time.
Mybeloved loved trusty Blackberry was murdered over Labor Day weekend. Actually the judge ruled it involuntary phoneslaughter, but added on depraived indifference to appease me. Regardless, I was awarded little for the pain and suffering caused by hours of emailing and adding lost phone numbers into my new phone.
I honestly know 5 numbers by heart. 3 of those belong to my parents and 1 to my husband. Sad. (Justin R Timberlake's number is NOT the 5th, but hopefully soon.)
So, here it is about 3 weeks later and I am about to go through this misery AGAIN.
I bought a Garminfone because I figured getting a phone and a Gramin map direction thing all in one was a sweet deal and for once in my life I might have some cool tech gadget that none of my friends had.
Joke's on me. This phone sucks ass.
The phone has, in it's lifetime dropped 20+ calls, most of which were to my mother and I could look past that, but really? Also, rings when it wants to. Randomly locks itself and wont let me back in.
I HATE YOU PHONE.
So, question is now... what kind of phone should I get?
*Hint, if you answer iPhone I will come through the computer and strangle you... my company won't use iPhones for work email, blah blah blah.
Help... anyone? I would really like something with cool applications, but honestly if I can keep a call connected 100% of time I won't complain.
Also, Glee? How I have missed you.
And you too Justin R Timberlake.
I remember being so very very excited that my parents gave me my own phone line in high school. That same phone line is now the fax line for my Dad's business. (Justin R. Timberlake faxes important shit daily.)
I can easily remember when my friends in high school had pagers because cell phones were like iPads... the cool new thing that you wanted but your parents told you were too expensive for a child your age. And yes, I am looking through my cheap ass rose colored glasses and am pretending that 80% of students at my old high school do not actually own iPads, humor me, I am old and cheap.
Now? I can barely function without the use of my cell phone. My husband told me in the nicest way possible that he could that I may have a slight problem with technology rage and that normal people do not react to slow internet uploads with such fury. Personally, I feel that he is overreacting to my overreacting, but that is a post for another time.
My
I honestly know 5 numbers by heart. 3 of those belong to my parents and 1 to my husband. Sad. (Justin R Timberlake's number is NOT the 5th, but hopefully soon.)
So, here it is about 3 weeks later and I am about to go through this misery AGAIN.
I bought a Garminfone because I figured getting a phone and a Gramin map direction thing all in one was a sweet deal and for once in my life I might have some cool tech gadget that none of my friends had.
Joke's on me. This phone sucks ass.
The phone has, in it's lifetime dropped 20+ calls, most of which were to my mother and I could look past that, but really? Also, rings when it wants to. Randomly locks itself and wont let me back in.
I HATE YOU PHONE.
So, question is now... what kind of phone should I get?
*Hint, if you answer iPhone I will come through the computer and strangle you... my company won't use iPhones for work email, blah blah blah.
Help... anyone? I would really like something with cool applications, but honestly if I can keep a call connected 100% of time I won't complain.
Also, Glee? How I have missed you.
And you too Justin R Timberlake.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Rejection
About a month ago N and I bought that awesome JetBlue All You Can Jet pass. What? You don’t know about this awesomeness? Once a year at the beginning of August JetBlue holds this 3-day sale where you can buy a pass to fly all you want during the month of September for like the price of one flight. And since N and I were planning a trip anyway, we thought why not travel to 3 places instead? Hate me.
Anyway this past weekend we kicked of our jetsetting month with a trip to NYC. Now I haven’t subjected you guys to this b/c I know I am nuts and all kinds of ridiculous, but I accidentally bought a wedding dress that I hate (it was for charity, don’t ask). Ever since then I have become determined to find something better. I decided that the only thing for me to do was go to Kleinfelds, the very same shop from my guilty pleasure show “Say Yes To The Dress.” I am completely 100% obsessed this show.
Except I called 3 weeks in advance for an appointment and they were fully booked. WTF. Being the determined obsessed person I am, I went anyway just in case they saw me and were like “OMG, we HAVE to dress you in one of our amazing dresses because you are so awesome!” (Whatev, it could have totally happened.) Needless to say, I went inside, fell in love with the place, and got immediately rejected. I didn’t even get to see my fake GBFF Randy. Worst of all, it was raining outside and for some reason N declined my offer to share an umbrella and opted to wear a bright yellow plastic poncho. He looked like Curious George. I would not lie to you, internet friends. Also? They were taping an episode of Say Yes To The Dress while we were there. Of course they didn’t want Curious George there while taping an episode of their amazing show. Therefore I fully blame my rejection on my fiancé wearing a very unfashionable poncho and not to me not having an appointment. Thanks a lot buddy.
And now I leave you with something that always makes me smile. Because when you smile, I smile. http://lesbianswholooklikejustinbieber.tumblr.com/
~Gina
Anyway this past weekend we kicked of our jetsetting month with a trip to NYC. Now I haven’t subjected you guys to this b/c I know I am nuts and all kinds of ridiculous, but I accidentally bought a wedding dress that I hate (it was for charity, don’t ask). Ever since then I have become determined to find something better. I decided that the only thing for me to do was go to Kleinfelds, the very same shop from my guilty pleasure show “Say Yes To The Dress.” I am completely 100% obsessed this show.
Except I called 3 weeks in advance for an appointment and they were fully booked. WTF. Being the determined obsessed person I am, I went anyway just in case they saw me and were like “OMG, we HAVE to dress you in one of our amazing dresses because you are so awesome!” (Whatev, it could have totally happened.) Needless to say, I went inside, fell in love with the place, and got immediately rejected. I didn’t even get to see my fake GBFF Randy. Worst of all, it was raining outside and for some reason N declined my offer to share an umbrella and opted to wear a bright yellow plastic poncho. He looked like Curious George. I would not lie to you, internet friends. Also? They were taping an episode of Say Yes To The Dress while we were there. Of course they didn’t want Curious George there while taping an episode of their amazing show. Therefore I fully blame my rejection on my fiancé wearing a very unfashionable poncho and not to me not having an appointment. Thanks a lot buddy.
And now I leave you with something that always makes me smile. Because when you smile, I smile. http://lesbianswholooklikejustinbieber.tumblr.com/
~Gina
Thursday, September 16, 2010
5 minutes later
We have hit # 4 (if you don't count the 2 *baby* searches in connection with #3). Ooh, and we have a baby search of our own!
Justin R Timberlake? You have been John C Mayered.
And are officially my favorite person in the world.
Justin R Timberlake? You have been John C Mayered.
And are officially my favorite person in the world.
Mutha Lovah
After reading the most recent posts of one of my favorite blogs, Mommy Wants Vodka, I decided to take her up on her Prankster challenge to John C Mayer a celeb.
Soooo...
Two Non Blondes has chosen the lovely and sexy Justin R Timberlake as ourvictim celebrity. Justin R Timberlake hopefully would approve of our prank as Justin R Timberlake seems to have a fabulous sense of humor. I mean, Justin R Timberlake was 50% of the amazingness that is D*ck in a Box and Mother Lover.
Also, Justin R Timberlake can rock a fro like no other white guy ever has. Or ever should be for that matter.
If you have been living in a 3rd world country without access to the internet or radio or whatever and don't know the brilliance of Justin R Timberlake, then I pity you.
Justin R Timberlake has a wikipedia page here where you will learn all sorts of interesting tidbits like how he was in NSync and then went solo. Also, Justin R Timberlake was the best thing that ever happened to Britney Spears in her pre meltdown era, and Justin R Timberlake has gone on to date hotties such as Cameron Diaz, Fergie, and currently Justin R Timberlake dates Jessica Biel. As if having a fantastic body wasn't enough to make me envious, Jessica has to go be Justin R Timberlake's girlfriend. I bet Justin R Timberlake Rocks her Body like no other, and for that I am super jealous.
If I had a list, you know the lists of people your spouse would look the other way if you ever had a chance to be with, Justin R Timberlake would totally top that list. Also, I think we could so be friends because who else but me has a crush on Justin Timberlake that is willing to admit that I not only repeatedly watch the NY Madison Square Garden performance of the Beat Box, but also own the DVD featuring Justin R Timberlake? Me. That's right. I own that shit in DVD form.
So my dear Justin R Timberlake, wherever you are, I will always love you and your William Rast jeans, curly fro complete with bleached tips, and ridiculously good comedic timing. Your d*ck in a box is always welcome in this neck of the woods sweet Justin R Timberlake.
Also, as a side note Justin R Timberlake, I swear I am not a stalker, but this John C Mayer prank thing was way to fun to pass up and I really hope you will take this in stride when you Google yourself tomorrow and find our pathetic attempt at a blog.
I heart you Justin R Timberlake.
Soooo...
Two Non Blondes has chosen the lovely and sexy Justin R Timberlake as our
Also, Justin R Timberlake can rock a fro like no other white guy ever has. Or ever should be for that matter.
If you have been living in a 3rd world country without access to the internet or radio or whatever and don't know the brilliance of Justin R Timberlake, then I pity you.
Justin R Timberlake has a wikipedia page here where you will learn all sorts of interesting tidbits like how he was in NSync and then went solo. Also, Justin R Timberlake was the best thing that ever happened to Britney Spears in her pre meltdown era, and Justin R Timberlake has gone on to date hotties such as Cameron Diaz, Fergie, and currently Justin R Timberlake dates Jessica Biel. As if having a fantastic body wasn't enough to make me envious, Jessica has to go be Justin R Timberlake's girlfriend. I bet Justin R Timberlake Rocks her Body like no other, and for that I am super jealous.
If I had a list, you know the lists of people your spouse would look the other way if you ever had a chance to be with, Justin R Timberlake would totally top that list. Also, I think we could so be friends because who else but me has a crush on Justin Timberlake that is willing to admit that I not only repeatedly watch the NY Madison Square Garden performance of the Beat Box, but also own the DVD featuring Justin R Timberlake? Me. That's right. I own that shit in DVD form.
So my dear Justin R Timberlake, wherever you are, I will always love you and your William Rast jeans, curly fro complete with bleached tips, and ridiculously good comedic timing. Your d*ck in a box is always welcome in this neck of the woods sweet Justin R Timberlake.
Also, as a side note Justin R Timberlake, I swear I am not a stalker, but this John C Mayer prank thing was way to fun to pass up and I really hope you will take this in stride when you Google yourself tomorrow and find our pathetic attempt at a blog.
I heart you Justin R Timberlake.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday Shoesday... the Wednesday edition
You are probably thinking that as I promised a Shoesday Tuesday post and the post is coming on Wednesday that it should be at least better than usual, but you would be wrong.
But... it is a shoe post nonetheless.
I caved and bought some ShoeDazzle goodness. And Holy Guacamole they are cute AND comfortable. Shocker.
I wasn't going to buy shoes this month, and was pretty much over the whole thing when I opened my inbox to boots.
Boots. I mean, it was the beginning of football season which in most parts of the US signals cooler weather and cute boots. I was excited.
Even the Hus approves. Double shocker.
But I didn't get much else exciting in my combined 10 picks (actually it was 9. SD gave me the same boot in different colors at 2 separate options.)
Never fear, I have done some internet shopping for you to fill the void. A friend does some marketing for Naya shoes and wore a pair to a party the other night. I fell in love. With ankle boots. It is like I don't even know me. So now I am obsessed with these:
But... it is a shoe post nonetheless.
I caved and bought some ShoeDazzle goodness. And Holy Guacamole they are cute AND comfortable. Shocker.
I wasn't going to buy shoes this month, and was pretty much over the whole thing when I opened my inbox to boots.
Please don't judge the poor quality of photos, and please also ignore the fact that these are supposed to be slouchy and have an inch or so between calves and boots, but alas I am a heifer and no such space exists.
Even the Hus approves. Double shocker.
But I didn't get much else exciting in my combined 10 picks (actually it was 9. SD gave me the same boot in different colors at 2 separate options.)
Never fear, I have done some internet shopping for you to fill the void. A friend does some marketing for Naya shoes and wore a pair to a party the other night. I fell in love. With ankle boots. It is like I don't even know me. So now I am obsessed with these:
And these:
And these:
And OMG THESE:
1, 2 & 4 are from Naya and are environmentally friendly, so totally worth it. 3 is from Bandolino (I found at Piperlime) and I am really hoping the riding boot fad isn't over because I totally missed out last year.
What other shoe fads am I missing for this fall? I don't want to be late to the party again.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Today? I am in a reflective mood. Tomorrow? Shoesday. ( And I am being dragged by the KK bandwagon.)
Somewhere in my parent’s house is a dusty manila folder containing what my memory recalls to be a faded red folder. That folder contains the details of my history.
Twenty-nine years ago yesterday I was given to the only parents I have ever physically known, but not the only parents that have ever loved me. I am lucky in that regard. I have 4 parents who love me in a truly undeserving, albeit different manner.
When my B-Day rolls around each May, I don’t hear the sappy, sugary, sweet stories of “I was in terrible pain, but that all disappeared when the nurse placed you in my arms…” or even the “your Dad almost fainted at the site of the epidural…” anecdotes. I go about my day accepting the obligatory “Happy Birthdays” offered by friends, family and passers-by that overhear it is the day I was born, even though it is only second in meaning to me. It is after all the day that I got my license 13 years ago, the day I was able to legally begin using my real ID to purchase liquor 8 years ago, and the day I realized it is a LOT of pressure to determine the lunch location for your entire department to celebrate. Especially when you have worked at this company for say, 2 weeks?
That day in May? Doesn’t mean what it does to other people. The day I get the warm fuzzies is in September.
Yesterday.
This is the day that almost 3 decades ago my Mom met M on the front steps after school and told him that he was going to be a big brother. This is the day my family loaded up into their car and drove I-35 N to Fort Worth in anticipation of filling the now empty car seat buckled securely next to M.
And this is the day that is filled with memories.
The day my parents let M go with the nice lady at Gladney to get me, armed with 2 outfits, sizes 1-3 months and 3-6 months. M returned in tears exclaiming, “She’s too big for these! What.Is.She.Going.To.Wear?” while giving my parents a look of despair and shame for their lack of foresight. My mother thankfully had brought along a 6-9 month dress just in case her new weeks-shy-of-4-months baby was too chunky to fit in anything else. She just had a feeling. And M breathed a heavy and dramatic 8 year old sigh of relief.
The day my Mom was too scared to admit to the social worker that there was no running water at our house because after 6 plus years of waiting for the call, they had decided to renovate.
The night I struck fear in my parents that they may never sleep again when during the 3 hour drive to my grandparents house in Granite Shoals I was wide-eyed and awake the entire trip. Evan at midnight.
It is the day that I think about how blessed I am to have been loved so deeply by the first two important people in my life to have been placed on my personal yellow-brick road to happiness instead of the rocky road that might have been.
It is the day that reminds me that love isn’t something everyone is born into. I am one of the lucky ones.
But it is also the day that I share these thoughts alone with my *second* family. The two responsible for bringing me into this world have only the day in May.
They don’t know about my A-Day.
I am forever grateful for the choices that were made 29 years ago. Signing the papers must have been hard. I hope the decision does not haunt them, it was the right one.
I am equally as grateful that my parents show no difference in love for a biological child versus love for an adopted child. They love, completely, unconditionally, and the same. They love me so deeply that they have always chosen to share the story of my beginning with me.
I have always known. I was told every day how lucky I was to have both families.
One family I know in and out, up and down, for better or for worse.
The other, I know only what is written in that red folder. I am fairly certain that people divulge more detailed information in online dating profiles than those two 8.5 x 11 sheets of paper, but I have all I need.
Bonus? I get to celebrate with cake and shopping 2 times a year.
Twenty-nine years ago yesterday I was given to the only parents I have ever physically known, but not the only parents that have ever loved me. I am lucky in that regard. I have 4 parents who love me in a truly undeserving, albeit different manner.
When my B-Day rolls around each May, I don’t hear the sappy, sugary, sweet stories of “I was in terrible pain, but that all disappeared when the nurse placed you in my arms…” or even the “your Dad almost fainted at the site of the epidural…” anecdotes. I go about my day accepting the obligatory “Happy Birthdays” offered by friends, family and passers-by that overhear it is the day I was born, even though it is only second in meaning to me. It is after all the day that I got my license 13 years ago, the day I was able to legally begin using my real ID to purchase liquor 8 years ago, and the day I realized it is a LOT of pressure to determine the lunch location for your entire department to celebrate. Especially when you have worked at this company for say, 2 weeks?
That day in May? Doesn’t mean what it does to other people. The day I get the warm fuzzies is in September.
Yesterday.
This is the day that almost 3 decades ago my Mom met M on the front steps after school and told him that he was going to be a big brother. This is the day my family loaded up into their car and drove I-35 N to Fort Worth in anticipation of filling the now empty car seat buckled securely next to M.
And this is the day that is filled with memories.
The day my parents let M go with the nice lady at Gladney to get me, armed with 2 outfits, sizes 1-3 months and 3-6 months. M returned in tears exclaiming, “She’s too big for these! What.Is.She.Going.To.Wear?” while giving my parents a look of despair and shame for their lack of foresight. My mother thankfully had brought along a 6-9 month dress just in case her new weeks-shy-of-4-months baby was too chunky to fit in anything else. She just had a feeling. And M breathed a heavy and dramatic 8 year old sigh of relief.
The day my Mom was too scared to admit to the social worker that there was no running water at our house because after 6 plus years of waiting for the call, they had decided to renovate.
The night I struck fear in my parents that they may never sleep again when during the 3 hour drive to my grandparents house in Granite Shoals I was wide-eyed and awake the entire trip. Evan at midnight.
It is the day that I think about how blessed I am to have been loved so deeply by the first two important people in my life to have been placed on my personal yellow-brick road to happiness instead of the rocky road that might have been.
It is the day that reminds me that love isn’t something everyone is born into. I am one of the lucky ones.
But it is also the day that I share these thoughts alone with my *second* family. The two responsible for bringing me into this world have only the day in May.
They don’t know about my A-Day.
I am forever grateful for the choices that were made 29 years ago. Signing the papers must have been hard. I hope the decision does not haunt them, it was the right one.
I am equally as grateful that my parents show no difference in love for a biological child versus love for an adopted child. They love, completely, unconditionally, and the same. They love me so deeply that they have always chosen to share the story of my beginning with me.
I have always known. I was told every day how lucky I was to have both families.
One family I know in and out, up and down, for better or for worse.
The other, I know only what is written in that red folder. I am fairly certain that people divulge more detailed information in online dating profiles than those two 8.5 x 11 sheets of paper, but I have all I need.
Bonus? I get to celebrate with cake and shopping 2 times a year.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
It's That Time Of Year Again
No, not football season. Or the dumb holidays. This is way more important than that. Its Halloween. You have to understand something about me. I. LOVE. HALLOWEEN. Yes, I am nearly 30. And yes, I am a strong believer in the dress-like-a-slut rule. Well at least I used to be until I stopped being a size 6. Which now that I think about it was quite a while ago. Which means I now believe in the dress-like-a-ridiculous-person rule.
Gina
And when I say a ridiculous person, this is what I mean:
 |
| Dont laugh. I was crowned Queen of the Trailer Park. |
So my internet friends who’s opinion I trust more than anyone I know in real life, I need your help. I am all out of inspiration for an original yet hilarious idea. My original plan was to dress N in some overalls and a red shirt and call him Mario so that I could dress like Princess Peach with no shame but I went to Target and saw that Mario and Luigi are actually popular costumes this year. WTF? Any ideas? And remember, this is a brainstorming session, therefore there are no bad ideas.
Love,
Gina
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Stabby rant disguised as Throwback Thursday
You remember when you were young and used to pull stupid pranks on unsuspecting people?
No?
Liar...
OK, remember when you were young and used to toilet paper people's houses?
Ya, someone out there remembers this.
You know how you purposely determined which one of your friend's parents would be the least likely to flip the F out and call the cops prior to your selection of target houses to which, ahem, damage property with quilted double-ply softness?
Or which house you could call after 10pm and ask for someone whose name sounded *almost exactly* like a venereal disease?
You know how you pulled these pranks on people YOUR OWN AGE????
...breathe in, breathe out, count to ten...
What the shit is wrong with teenagers today? Can't play with people your own size, eh? Have to bring in total strangers into your world of no responsibility, adderall sustaining, no PE class required lives, do you now?
On my way back from a lovely lunch with Gina and some other friends, about a mile from my office I turned onto a residential side street, in the ghetto where I work. A narrow street with parked cars on both sides, as I was about half way to the stop sign a truck turned onto the same street going in the opposite direction. He pulled behind a parked car to let me pass, and as I passed I showed my gratitude the Texas way... I raised my fingers (all, not the middle one only) off the steering wheel in a *waving* manner and nodded my head. About half a second later as I passed this car... WAPOW. I jumped and then looked to my left and saw slimy grossness on my window. The POS had an even more childish/worthless POS in the backseat who EGGED my car.
I am twenty f*ing nine years old and my car was egged.
I feel certain there are better ways to protest the eggs will put you in the hospital thanks to bad food regulation movement. But apparently donating spoiled eggs to your children is the route parents have taken in my town. Awesome.
In the 2 minutes it took me to get to the office parking lot from the moment of impact, the egg had baked to a hard boiled state on the side of my car. Thanks Texas weather. I drove the entire way home after work with the window down because, FYI, when you try and remove almost dry egg white and yolk from a car window, it smears and becomes cloudy and completely opaque.
I wanted to turn the car around and go pull them out of the truck one by one by their ears, but then I remembered that A) I am a 29 year old woman, not my Grandfather and B) I work in the ghetto... these people probably had other *weapons* in the car besides eggs. I also considered suing, but you know, I have no idea who these punks are and I am busy and shit.
Then I called B who went bat shit crazy telling me how the paint would come off my car if the egg dried and I had to do something about it right.this.second. Way to calm me down there bud. I knew I married you for a reason.
So the moral of the story is... I guess.. teenagers should be chained to their basements/desks/kitchen tables until they are forced off the parent's payroll.
Bonus moral? Two crazies in one marriage causes unnecessary stress.Most of the egg came off in the car wash by the way, but I was a nervous wreck all afternoon anyway.
Happy long weekend you guys. And stay away from eggs.
No?
Liar...
OK, remember when you were young and used to toilet paper people's houses?
Ya, someone out there remembers this.
You know how you purposely determined which one of your friend's parents would be the least likely to flip the F out and call the cops prior to your selection of target houses to which, ahem, damage property with quilted double-ply softness?
Or which house you could call after 10pm and ask for someone whose name sounded *almost exactly* like a venereal disease?
You know how you pulled these pranks on people YOUR OWN AGE????
...breathe in, breathe out, count to ten...
What the shit is wrong with teenagers today? Can't play with people your own size, eh? Have to bring in total strangers into your world of no responsibility, adderall sustaining, no PE class required lives, do you now?
On my way back from a lovely lunch with Gina and some other friends, about a mile from my office I turned onto a residential side street, in the ghetto where I work. A narrow street with parked cars on both sides, as I was about half way to the stop sign a truck turned onto the same street going in the opposite direction. He pulled behind a parked car to let me pass, and as I passed I showed my gratitude the Texas way... I raised my fingers (all, not the middle one only) off the steering wheel in a *waving* manner and nodded my head. About half a second later as I passed this car... WAPOW. I jumped and then looked to my left and saw slimy grossness on my window. The POS had an even more childish/worthless POS in the backseat who EGGED my car.
I am twenty f*ing nine years old and my car was egged.
I feel certain there are better ways to protest the eggs will put you in the hospital thanks to bad food regulation movement. But apparently donating spoiled eggs to your children is the route parents have taken in my town. Awesome.
In the 2 minutes it took me to get to the office parking lot from the moment of impact, the egg had baked to a hard boiled state on the side of my car. Thanks Texas weather. I drove the entire way home after work with the window down because, FYI, when you try and remove almost dry egg white and yolk from a car window, it smears and becomes cloudy and completely opaque.
I wanted to turn the car around and go pull them out of the truck one by one by their ears, but then I remembered that A) I am a 29 year old woman, not my Grandfather and B) I work in the ghetto... these people probably had other *weapons* in the car besides eggs. I also considered suing, but you know, I have no idea who these punks are and I am busy and shit.
Then I called B who went bat shit crazy telling me how the paint would come off my car if the egg dried and I had to do something about it right.this.second. Way to calm me down there bud. I knew I married you for a reason.
So the moral of the story is... I guess.. teenagers should be chained to their basements/desks/kitchen tables until they are forced off the parent's payroll.
Bonus moral? Two crazies in one marriage causes unnecessary stress.Most of the egg came off in the car wash by the way, but I was a nervous wreck all afternoon anyway.
Happy long weekend you guys. And stay away from eggs.
Monday, August 30, 2010
The Man Pleaser
Get your mind out of the gutter.
The man pleaser is food.
In honor of Labor Day, three day weekends, and the start of football season I thought I would pass along a life saver.
Starting Saturday, I am assured random boy-men will be stopping by my house at any given time to plant their, hopefully showered, asses on my couch to watch football. I too like football, and because I would rather watch the game than become their short order cook, I keep the ingredients for The Man Pleaser available at all times.
Cream Cheese
No Bean Chili.
Shredded Cheddar.
Done.
Seriously. Try this one the next time you need a dip:
Smear softened cream cheese (2 8oz pkgs) on the bottom of a 9x13 pan. Pour the can (or 2 if you like chili a lot) over the top of the cream cheese. Cover the chili with shredded cheddar. I use the whole bag, but you can portion out a cup or so if you want.
Bake at 350 uncovered for 20 minutes. The cheese should be melted and bubbly.
Dip with your fav chips.
Men happy. Me/You happy.
You are welcome.
The man pleaser is food.
In honor of Labor Day, three day weekends, and the start of football season I thought I would pass along a life saver.
Starting Saturday, I am assured random boy-men will be stopping by my house at any given time to plant their, hopefully showered, asses on my couch to watch football. I too like football, and because I would rather watch the game than become their short order cook, I keep the ingredients for The Man Pleaser available at all times.
Cream Cheese
No Bean Chili.
Shredded Cheddar.
Done.
Seriously. Try this one the next time you need a dip:
Smear softened cream cheese (2 8oz pkgs) on the bottom of a 9x13 pan. Pour the can (or 2 if you like chili a lot) over the top of the cream cheese. Cover the chili with shredded cheddar. I use the whole bag, but you can portion out a cup or so if you want.
Bake at 350 uncovered for 20 minutes. The cheese should be melted and bubbly.
Dip with your fav chips.
Men happy. Me/You happy.
You are welcome.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
The day the internet news sites died
Are there really no more trustworthy news sources out there?
I gave up on CNN a few months back when I read 3 articles in one day with the exact same story only with different titles.
Fow News? I don't remember when I gave that up.
Huffington Post? There were no less than 2 stories on Elizabeth Hurley that didn't involve her significant other with a hooker. Relevancy? Also, a recent article mentioned a photo of Bethenney Frankel was the first such shot since Bryn's birth. Um, no, she was on the cover of a magazine 3 weeks post baby. C'mon Huff Post.
But today is the day the internet news died for me. (and no spell check, I will NOT capitalize "internet")
People Magazine, oh how I will miss you. But seriously. I read this this morning on your website.
Hair cascading over her shoulders... WTF? Are we practicing for the Emmy recaps? It was a MUG SHOT you douchenugget. Do NOT ruin my Sunday morning reading with your delusional grandeur of romance novel fiction writing.
Ugh.
Does no one take the news seriously anymore?
I gave up on CNN a few months back when I read 3 articles in one day with the exact same story only with different titles.
Fow News? I don't remember when I gave that up.
Huffington Post? There were no less than 2 stories on Elizabeth Hurley that didn't involve her significant other with a hooker. Relevancy? Also, a recent article mentioned a photo of Bethenney Frankel was the first such shot since Bryn's birth. Um, no, she was on the cover of a magazine 3 weeks post baby. C'mon Huff Post.
But today is the day the internet news died for me. (and no spell check, I will NOT capitalize "internet")
People Magazine, oh how I will miss you. But seriously. I read this this morning on your website.
Hair cascading over her shoulders... WTF? Are we practicing for the Emmy recaps? It was a MUG SHOT you douchenugget. Do NOT ruin my Sunday morning reading with your delusional grandeur of romance novel fiction writing.
Ugh.
Does no one take the news seriously anymore?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Throwback Thursday - Volume "Do Your Hair Right"
Brush your hair.
Put some lipstick on.
My mother was an ever repeating chorus of these statements as I was growing up. I went from not being allowed to shave my knees (5th grade) to in trouble for not looking appropriate and combing my hair (6th grade) overnight. So the fact that my mother encouraged me to begin highlighting my hair around this time should have been about as surprising as the Speidi divorce.
My hair was darkening to a delightful shade of "mouse-y brown" and I flat out refused to chemically alter my hair with a "body wave" as my mother desired, seriously, WTF Mom?, So highlighting was a compromise.
Side Note - What IS a body wave? A perm? I had bangs at the time, do you think my bangs would have been *waved* as well? Never mind, don't answer that.
But just like everything else in my family, laundry, dinner, clothes ironing, if you wanted something done, you did it yourself (unless you weren't old enough to see over the ironing board or something.) So one day while being forced into a family weekend at the river, we stopped at the grocery store in the booming metropolis of Uvalde, TX. I had been diligently reading the latest copies of Seventeen and Cosmopolitan (don't tell my Mom I wasn't allowed to read that one yet... it talked about SEX) and decided Sun In was the way to go.
You thought about it to. Don't deny it. I mean how could you not?
Of course I went with the Super strength Sun In.
Put some lipstick on.
My mother was an ever repeating chorus of these statements as I was growing up. I went from not being allowed to shave my knees (5th grade) to in trouble for not looking appropriate and combing my hair (6th grade) overnight. So the fact that my mother encouraged me to begin highlighting my hair around this time should have been about as surprising as the Speidi divorce.
My hair was darkening to a delightful shade of "mouse-y brown" and I flat out refused to chemically alter my hair with a "body wave" as my mother desired, seriously, WTF Mom?, So highlighting was a compromise.
Side Note - What IS a body wave? A perm? I had bangs at the time, do you think my bangs would have been *waved* as well? Never mind, don't answer that.
But just like everything else in my family, laundry, dinner, clothes ironing, if you wanted something done, you did it yourself (unless you weren't old enough to see over the ironing board or something.) So one day while being forced into a family weekend at the river, we stopped at the grocery store in the booming metropolis of Uvalde, TX. I had been diligently reading the latest copies of Seventeen and Cosmopolitan (don't tell my Mom I wasn't allowed to read that one yet... it talked about SEX) and decided Sun In was the way to go.
You thought about it to. Don't deny it. I mean how could you not?
Of course I went with the Super strength Sun In.
The bottle has changed, but the directions have not. In case you can't see the above image directions are as follows:
1. Spray in damp hair and comb through to distribute
2. Something about a sun streaked look to only spray select strands
3. Let the sun dry your hair, or you can boost the process with the help of a hair dryer.
This instruction list is obviously abbreviated by my 29 year old mind. My 12 year old mind read:
Damp hair, spray, comb, sun, blow dry, repeat. Use entire bottle.
Did I forget to tell you I thought this shit washed out over time? I had no idea this was permanent.
Anywho, I woke up the next morning and jumped in the shower to wet my hair. I stood in the bathroom and sprayed 1/2 the bottle into my hair, combed it through, grabbed a beach towel, my walkman, and trusty Seventeen (pretty sure it was the one with Nikki and Chrissy Taylor, RIP Chrissy) and headed to lay by the river. All freaking morning.
Then, because I had no idea whether the blonde in the bottle was working as my head was wet from a dip in the river, I went back to the house, sprayed the remainder of the bottle into my hair and then proceeded to blow fry the crap out of it.
It. Was. Blonde.
And I loved it. For a few days.
Then one day, I am fairly certain it was the Sunday before the first day of middle school, also known as the first year of the most judgmental and awful years of your life, I woke up and staggered into the kitchen for breakfast. My Mom took one look at me and teared up mumbling something about fixing this disaster as soon as possible while running from the room to find the phone.
I went to the bathroom and then I too started to cry.
Some horrible girl with orange hair was staring back at me, and she too was crying.
I composed myself and walked into the room where my mother was just finishing her phone message to the lady who cuts my hair and I tried to assure her that I could spend the whole day in the shower washing and rewashing and surely it would come out by the end of the day.
That's when I learned Sun In is like a hair tattoo. Permanent. And it took like 3 professionally applied colorings to fix.
And so began my journey with hair coloring.
Here is a link to the catchy Sun In commercial circa 1992 for your viewing pleasure. I would embed the video but I don't really know how and my computer beeping at me really loudly and I expect it to self destruct any minute now.
Happy Thursday!
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