Thursday, November 19, 2009

Ten Confession Thursday

Confession: I sometimes stuff my bra. I have these "chicken cutlet" thingies that I stick in there to extend the time between buying ever smaller bras.

Confession: I sing to my dog ALL THE TIME. I don't think he likes it, but I don't like that he pees in the house, so THEMS THE BREAKS.

Confession: I tell my husband that we can't afford his stupid hunting crap, but really I just intend to spend that money on getting my nails done.

Confession: I have no idea how to ride a bicycle. That phrase "It's just like riding a bike" is a dirty lie. If you don't ride for 20 years, you forget.

Confession: I pluck my stray eyebrow hairs at stop lights.

Confession: I compose blogs in my head every night before I go to bed AND THEY ARE AWESOME but I never remember them by the time I actually get to the computer.

Confession: I kind of believe that you guys are imaginary. It's disconcerting when someone I know in real life comments to me about something I have done here. It's like, WAIT? What the hell? Does. Not. Compute. Interwebz interface with real life? SO WEIRD.

Confession: The only reason I let M have my iPod after hers got stolen is so I'd have an excuse to buy an iTouch.

Confession: I am horrifyingly bad at video games. That's why I never play. Because I suck so embarrassingly much. I play like a monkey wearing mittens.

Confession: I remember my phone number from 1980 (283-1138), the combination to my freshman locker (14-27-39), the zip code to my college dorm (59715), I remember what I was wearing when I met my husband (Lee jeans, Doc Martins, blue/white/yellow striped shirt) and what I ate for dinner the night before M was born (spaghetti) but I will be completely unable to remember the name of the person I met five minutes ago about five minutes from now.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Polished Toes Are The Keynote of Good Grooming

Hey. Did y'all know that some people on the interwebs AREN'T imaginary? Weird, right?

Today, the blogging world is a bit sniffly and on edge as we wait for news of Anissa Mayhew, a fellow blogger (fellow. Ha. She totally kicks my ass at blogging. And also at tweeting) who was struck down by a stroke. Anissa is in a coma right now and she and her family could really use your positive vibes/prayers/whatever that she recover as quickly and as fully as possible.

Secondly, one of the very first blogs that I started reading and one of my favorites is She Just Walks Around With It. Seriously, Kristy cracks me the hell up and is one of the major reasons that I moved to blogger in from Spaces. Also? She has an adorable new baby named Eve. And those cheeks? OH MY GOD. Kristy also write as site where she reviews products. She doesn't even use the F-word in her reviews. I KNOW, that's some talent right there. And you know what ELSE? She give stuff away. WAY better stuff than I give away. I love her blog. I love that she laid out everything from a gut wrenching divorce, to a new life on a different coast right down to a brand new baby and joys and trials that come with her in a way that you can related to and laugh with because you know exactly what she means when she tells you that the biggest accomplishment some days is managing to shower. It's one of those rare mommy-blogs that isn't a mommy blog at all, but rather a blog that just happens to be written by a mommy. A mommy who puts her baby first but isn't defined by her. The kind of mommy you want to invite over for wine and cupcakes.

And I? Love wine and cupcakes. I also love winning stuff. Like that time in 1986 when I won the Spelling Bee because I could spell "chief" and Bevin couldn't and I'm pretty sure it's only because I was wearing my awesome Little Orphan Annie knickers. (the short pants kind, not the slang-for-panties kind. I imagine my panties were probably Underoo's. Remember those? I loved mine. I had Wonder Woman.) What the hell was I talking about? Oh yes. Winning stuff. Apparently Kristy's contests aren't imaginary because I won a pretty awesome prize from her last give away. Which means that YOU could win the next one which includes a $100 Visa gift card. So go over there and enter.

Lastly, apparently not imaginary interwebz peoples, I thought we'd do something interactive today that may or may not include a prize that I may or may not remember to mail to you in a timely fashion.

The other day I mentioned that a major deciding factor in my life is how my Gram would do or handle something. My Gram, in addition to being hilarious, a kick ass party guest and a gracious hostess is a font of knowledge and I was lucky enough to grow up down the street from her. She taught my sisters and I all kind of important things. Like a girl should always have a red bra in case she needs to flag down a train. That you should always name a child something that makes an easy nickname or they'll wind up called something horrible like Lumpy. That you can get past forgetting anyones name by calling them honey, and that if you can't be nice you better at least be polite.

So that brings us to what may or may not be our contest, but is definitely going to be a blog entry.

What piece of wisdom would you give to a child? What one little thing, simple or not, do you think that everyone should know? What is you version of WhatWouldGramDo?

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Tippy Tuesday

Yeah, I know. That title is annoying. Suck it.

Since several of you girls asked about what kind of bra I was modeling yesterday, I figured I'd do a post on a few of my favorite pieces of clothing. Pieces that you can afford. Not in the way that Glamour espouses the frugality of a $300 winter jacket, but in the use-your-lunch-money kind of way. Well, maybe two weeks worth of lunch money. I guess it depends if your lunch budget for the week is $50 or less.

I am extremely anal retentive about my bra's. I hate the ones that give you elbow boob, or wall eyed boobs, or quadro-boob or cone boob. I hate the ones that dig at your shoulder or have under wires that poke you in the armpit. But also, I'm cheap. So while I have in the past found a lovely $96 bra that fit perfectly, I didn't buy it because I'd never wear it for fear of wearing it out. I know, it doesn't make sense. But that's how I roll.

What I have found thanks to Cousin Bunny's recommendation, is the Victorias Secret Bio-Fit line. They come in a good range of sizes (32B-40DD) and HOLY TITTIES BATMAN do they look good! The cups are rounded in a natural looking way and they keep the twins up in a natural, but lifted place. If you buy the "Full Coverage UpLift" you can do pretty much anything without worrying about popping out. I bowl in mine and never have to readjust. But if you want some HELLO TITTIES cleavage, I liked the Demi. That's what I was wearing in yesterdays picture. If you've got good sized girls, you won't want to do a whole lot of bending at the waist, but who wants to do that ANYWAY? They are a little expensive, with an on-line price of $50, though I swear the one I bought was only $48 in the store.

This is the part where you need to pay attention kittens! Go to their web site and sign up for the catalogue and email updates. Yeah, yeah, spam, whatever. Once you're on their mailing list you'll begin to get their promotional mailings about once a month. The email is a little annoying at about 3x per week, but that's what Baby Jesus made Delete for. You'll likely get a coupon for free panties in the mail. USE IT. When you do, be sure to enter the email address you used when you signed up. You don't have to buy anything. Just hand them the coupon and walk out with panties. By putting in your email address at check out, they see you're an active shopper. The more you shop, the more often they send you free stuff. I get a free $9 pair of panties EVERY SINGLE MONTH. The coupon usually includes a $10 coupon for bra's also.

AND AND AND! Twice a year they have a HUGE sale. All the previous seasons colors and styles go on clearance. On average you'll find bra's about 1/2 of their retail price. BUT if you wait to the end of the sale (while the selection is of course not as good) they'll mark them down even further. I'm talking down to $9! I KNOW, RIGHT? You can't even get some crappy disposable Wal-Mart brand bra for that price!

However, speaking of Wal-Mart, did you know that they now carry BabyPhat silver label jeans? Before you even start, yeah, I know, GHETTO. But these jeans are made for the long legged! AND they go up to a size 18! All the stores in my area seem to carry them, so if you're looking for jeans it might be worth searching your local store. They run $25 and have two washes, distressed and dark. All the jean are boot cut. The only problem I have with them is that the juniors cut rides low and I feel like my ass crack is playing peek-a-boo with the world if I don't wear a longer shirt. Oh, one other slightly odd quirk, the available sizes are 0-15 juniors and 14-18 women's. I don't know why. They wear well and wash with minimal shrinkage and have perfect sized pockets to compliment your ass. I hate jeans with teeny-little pockets, don't you?

Lastly, liquid eye liner. First of all, WHAT THE FUCK, man? Do you have ANY IDEA how long it took to learn to apply that stuff? I'm giving mad props (that's how we talk in the ghetto) to the Emo kids for their eye-lining skills. Those little brushes are ridiculous. BUT I found an easier solution! The Revlon ColorStay liquid eye pen! I paid $7 and it's exactly like using a Sharpie. Hey. I bet I COULD just use a sharpie!

That would be a look.

(PS. There's no pictures because I'm lazy. Click the links.)
(PPS. These aren't paid reviews. Although if someone would like to pay me to review there stuff either with cash or with free stuff, I'm totally down with that. Unless I have to say I like it even though I don't.)

Monday, November 16, 2009


Recently my Monday posts have been effervescent with venom bottled up from Weekend Drama. Not today. I had a great weekend. Doing nothing. Hanging out on the couch talking with friends. Eating WAY too much guacamole (is there such a thing? No? I suspected not) in honor of National Guacamole Day on Saturday. I bowled a good game and didn't get bitched at (or maybe I did, but I was too busy sneaking drinks of Cosmo and playing with my Gigibella. (CAN NOT believe she'll be one in three weeks! Craziness!))

To top off a fantastic weekend of lazy, my bestie is in town all week and I'm going to skip out of work early so we can hang out every afternoon.

All this KikiGlee is probably the harbinger of some sort of getting hit by a bus like drama to come. But for now? I revel.

Not to mention I got a new bra and my boobs look AMAZING. Seriously. Like I HAVE boobs again.

PS. You're welcome interwebz. I know you haven't seen enough pictures of my boobs recently. It's a result of The Crazy. The more that people tell me how "skinny" I've gotten, the more self conscious I become. I never really thought about my weight in relation to my looks before surgery. I was pretty, The End. Fat or not, I work at it. I don't leave the house in my sweats and pony tail with no make up. Ever. Not even when I was on-my-death-bed sick dragging myself to the store for NyQuil. I still put on jeans and combed my hair. Partially it's my Grams fault. I don't think she's ever once left the house with out lipstick and partially it's just that I'm pretty much as vain as humanly possible (despite my POS car) and partially it's that I believe Fat Girls, like drag queens have to Bring It. Sure, skinny girls looks adorable in their little yoga pants and tank top, but us fatties? Not so much. So I worked at it. From the time I was 12. I never doubted that I was pretty until about thirty pounds ago. It's weird to realize how invisible I really was. Now people LOOK at me. Hard. Which, of course, has fueled my obsession with my appearance in a somewhat unhealthy way. Not that I WANT y'all to stop commenting on my hotness...HELLO, VANITY, it's more that now I start to doubt my assessment abilities. How is it possible I looked amazing before only to find that I look both totally different and amazing now? Did I not look amazing before? Was I deluding myself then? Am I doing it now? Whatever. I'm hot. And my boobs look FANTASTIC in my lipstick-red bra. And that's enough.


I think those pills for The Crazy are starting to work.

Or maybe it's all that guacamole I ate.

Who cares?

Party on, bitches. Party on.

Friday, November 13, 2009


Earlier this week, when I was getting coffee at that exclusive little shop that I love *coughQTcough*, a man turns to me and says "you smell fantastic". It completely made my day. There is nothing quite like a genuine and unexpected compliment, is there?

Then, I had a super shitariffic week.


As you are all well aware, I have a tiny little addiction to my Blackberry. The first thing I do in the morning is turn it on and check my messages. Unlike Saint Dolly, who claims the first thing she does in the morning is get dressed and go home. (I want to BE Dolly Parton. Seriously. I love her. Probably more than I love that wicked temptress Oprah.) Where was I? Oh, yes, my Blackberry. The first few messages kind of set the tone for my day. For example today, Ash told me that I was an evil whore for telling him that Emily Deschanel is a vegan and then mentioning scary porcelain headed clown dolls come to life and kill people at night. This is why I love my friends. Especially the imaginary ones that live in my computer. Because who else would call you an evil whore but mean it with LOVE? Oh. Right. My sisters.

And then there was this comment left on a post I wrote back in April;

Anonymous said...
I found this site using Google And i want to thank you for your work. You have done really very good site. Great work, great site! Thank you!Sorry for offtopic

Thank you Anonymous, you totally made my day.

So here's what I think we should do today, I think that we should all make a conscious effort to give someone, a stranger maybe, a sincere compliment. I think we should all remember the courtesy wave. I think we should all remember that Nice Matters.

There you go.

I'm done being all preachy.

Now I want to know WHY THE FUCK I am the only person in my household that can fill the dogs water dish? SERIOUSLY. It's not that fucking hard. You put the bowl in the sink and fill it up. It's not like you have to milk a penguin or anything. It's water.

Also, my dogs are assholes. The puppy, who at two and a half probably isn't a puppy anymore but WHATEVER, has terrible dry skin, and our vet recommended that I put a tablespoon of olive oil on his food to try to alleviate it. It works, I don't know why. Now? Not one of those little fuckers will so much as touch their retardedly expensive dog food until I drizzle it with olive oil. What a bunch of fucking princesses. For the record? Rottweilers and Pit Bulls are a bunch of babies.

Don't you think that Facebook should have an "I hate you" button? or maybe a "stop bragging you bastard" button? And why do people do things like post a message to dead person? I've seen "Rest in Peace, Uncle Bob, you will be missed" or something similar more than once. Do you seriously think that Uncle Bob is sitting in Heaven checking his Facebook alerts? Basically, what you're saying is LOOK AT ME! SOMEONE I KNOW IS DEAD! I'M FUCKING SPECIAL! No, you're not. You're just as bad as the people that post updates that say things like "Betsy wonders why you did that?" Why who did what, you bitch? FUCKING SAY WHAT YOU MEAN. If you mean that Larry stole your boyfriend say "Betsy wonders why Larry is a such a back stabbing man stealing anus eater?". By leaving open ended, vague updates, you're CLEARLY just begging for people to comment and ask you why so that you can tell your victim story. I hate you.

Lastly, as I lay awake at 3:30 in the morning, it occurred to me that if you say the name "John" enough times in a row it stops sounding like a word and sounds like some kind of made up alien language. So do "prom" and "referee". Try it. Say each one like ten times in a row. Not even words anymore, right?

Wow. This post has just gone totally around the bend. Just like me. HIGH FIVE!

Xanax wishes and Buttercream dreams for a happy weekend, my kittens.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Ten Confession Thursday

1) I'm completely positive all Asian people understand math better than I do.

2) I make up almost every single fact I tell people. Sometimes they're correct, but that's an accident.

3) I once stole a Wet n' Wild frosted shell pink lip stick from the drugstore. Then, I felt so guilty that I returned it to the shelves. Which would have been noble, had I not used it.

4) I had no idea what men's underwear looked like until I was 10.

5) Fact: the louder you are, the more likely you are to be wrong. (okay, maybe that's NOT a fact, but it should be. Did you ever notice that? The louder someone gets as they try to convince you of something the more likely they are to be totally wrong? Next time you're arguing with someone pay attention to that.)

6) My husband thinks that I fill his water bottle with filtered water but I fill it straight from the tap. Even though he says he can taste the difference, he hasn't mentioned it yet. It's been two years.

7) I haven't left the house with out mascara since 1989. There is NO GOOD REASON to leave the house without mascara. Even if the house is on fire. Hello? Cute firemen? I rest my case.

8) When I was a kid I desperately wanted to be in a wheelchair because I thought it was so. cool.

9) When I make waffles, I always serve myself the best one.

10) I google stalk people I used to date just to make sure they're current wives/girlfriends aren't prettier than me.

(PS. This is my 400th Blogger post (probably closer to my 1,000th blog post over all, but I can't say for sure since I've switched hosts a few times). I'd like to take this moment to apologize for causing the interwebz to suck.) (Did you see what I did there? I put a parenthetical comment within another parenthetical comment. I have got blogging SKILLS, bitches.)

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Not dead, just hiding

Though I rapidly am at risk of becoming one of those one note a MommyBlog, only with whining...I fear that since that is the mood I am in that's all y'all are going to be getting for awhile. Probably until my increased dose of Crazy meds kicks in. Which should be any day now, but in the mean time, I've got to tell y'all about the fucked up shit going on at my house.

My husband and I don't "do" things together. This is because A) I am not terribly fond of him B) he's an assface and C) we don't like to do the same things. One might argue that A & B are the same but then one would risk me crying and shouting things like I hate you for breathing and then I'd sulk and you wouldn't get to read my confessions tomorrow, so perhaps one should just keep ones mouth shut and let me finish my damn story.

ANYWAY, where was I? Oh, yes. Doing things.

J likes manly-man things, like hunting and shooting things and things that go fast and are loud and people who talk loud and drink too much and tell jokes about why women have small feet* and I? I do not. I like to travel, I like to socialize in an environment where I can hear what people are saying and more than anything I DO NOT LIKE DEAD THINGS. Meat comes from Safeway nicely wrapped in cling film and presented on a Styrofoam tray, The End. Which means that when it comes time to do things, more often than not they're separate. I take M to the state fair, he goes hunting. I go on a cruise with BabyMama, he goes hunting. I go to book club, he goes to a long distance rifle match. You get the idea.

But on Sunday? He decided we were going to have some quality time.

What. The. Fuck.

Sundays are MY day. I don't drive anyone anywhere. I clean the house and then I watch everything on the DVR and then we eat take out for dinner. Chances are I do it all wearing yoga pants. I KNOW, RIGHT? But NO. Not this Sunday. This Sunday he plops himself down on the sofa (after moving the laundry I was folding to the coffee table) takes the remote from my lap and changes the channel and announces I may bring him a snack because we're going to have quality time. Then, he insults what I've got set to DVR for the week, informs me that I fold the socks incorrectly and that his drink needs more ice. Because we're having quality time. And when I ask WHY THE FUCK WE'RE HAVING FUCKING QUALITY TIME he tells me it's because he thinks I want it.


Not from me.


He stayed home again on Monday afternoon. For more quality time that involved more being an ass to me. Because I "needed attention". Apparently the sort of attention I need involves telling me the delicious quiche I made "sucks" and that I should dust more.

Do you see why we don't do things together?

Thank GOD all my whining and moaning the of phrase ain't you got somewheres you gots to be?! finally conveyed that for fucks sake if he spends one more fucking minute with in my sight I will take that remote and shove it so far up his ass that every time he blinks the channel changes and also that HE NEEDS TO FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO BE. For example, not here. Or perhaps NOT ANYWHERE NEAR HERE. A good idea would be SOMEWHERE ELSE. Far away.

This, people. THIS is why Baby Jesus invented Xanax. So that y'all didn't have to mail me bail money.

*So they can stand closer to the sink.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Ten Confession Thursday

*Confession: I gave out last years Halloween candy again this year. There's some left. I'm saving it for next year.

*Confession: I used to get booted out of Sunday School and smoke joints and drink 40's at the Plaid Pantry while everyone else prayed.

*Confession: I'm not Christian, but I really like the Baby Jesus. And Nativity sets. I have 12. It's not weird. I'm a minister. It's fine.

*Confession: I am the one who ate the last Reese Cup.

*Confession: I only ask my husband to go places with me when I know he'll say no. Because I don't want him to go.

*Confession: almost everything I know about how the government works I learned from "Schoolhouse Rocks"

*Confession: The first thing I do in the morning is turn on my Blackberry

*Confession: I still think my Dad can fix anything.

*Confession: my bra & panties must match or I will be bitchy all day. Because what if I get in an accident? THEY'D LET ME DIE.

*Confession: I believe all black people are born good dancers.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Wordless Wednesday: Fair Enough

(subtitle: Hell no, I didn't ride that shit. Don't you people read the news? I don't want the headlines to read "Fat girl falls from State Fair Ride and crushes on-lookers to death")

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Phoning it in

Hi! You've reached Kreg's Severed Head! Miss Thystle is busy hiding under her desk eating mini-Snickers bars and mumbling to herself. Please leave a message after the tone.