Dah Fuh?

Who Are You Wearing?

This is who I’m wearing.

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OH. You meant what clothes am I wearing? Of course. Of course. We’re talking real life. My fashionable, jet-setting, Oscar winning, paparazzi filled, rolling in diamonds, sex tape leaking real life.

Get your cameras ready. I brought it all out for the red carpet today.

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Now stop being so jealous! You can have this look! I plan to donate the entire ensemble so you can feel worthy and valued! For just $500 you can get my used clothes, which include but are not limited to:

That sexy, oversized, nearly twenty year old sweatshirt
Hot, slimming yoga pants that I may or may not have slept in two nights in a row
Thick, fuzzy socks
My “house” bra
and if you order right now, I’ll throw in the reading glasses. That’s right!

How did I look so sexy in that photo? Easy! Posing lessons. But I’ll tell you my secret. Shhhhh. This is just between us. Turn your back to the camera, then look over your shoulder, like who me?  Give a serious look with a little pout. Wear no make up. And the cherry on top? Don’t wash your hair for two days. See? Easy!

If you look like me, food will taste better, your boyfriend will look like that guy up above, and you’ll be generally happier. Pinky swear! Because I’m valued more in this society than you…so you must aspire to me and my outfit to matter.

You want to matter, don’t you?

I thought so.

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This post was (obvs) a tongue & cheek look at the absurdness of award season, and is in honor of everyday women everywhere because REAL IS SEXY! Join in! Just visit a hosts blog (you can do that by pressing the photo above) and share your own “who are you wearing” photo. You can also tweet about it with the hashtag #WhoAreYouWearingMom

Oh. You’re still here? Well, I’m in two places today. I’m cowardly, sorta kinda, pimping the fact that I’m also on the INCREDIBLE blog, The Insomniac’s Dream, where Starr gave me a safe place to be totally naked. Figuratively! Pervert. (oh, you know I like it when you’re pervy)

Inside A Man’s Head

Not that one. The one atop his shoulders.

-Pffft-

Remember What Do Women REALLY Want? where Mike M. interviewed me, Kristi, and Joy in his quest to understand women? Well, we flipped the tables and are back to ask HIM questions! And you know we didn’t hold back….

Just when you wrap your brain around what we asked, his answers will…well, see for yourself. Go on….it’s right here.

And don’t blame me if you leave with the theme song from Three’s Company in you head. Jes sayin’.

Come and Knock on Our Door….

That Time A Bear Ruined My Honeymoon

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“How do you feel about the eighteenth?” I asked Jim, my fiancé at the time, while trying to plan our trip. I’d never desired a wedding, so we chose to elope and surprise everybody.

“Works for me,” he shrugged.

“Okay cool because Aunt Flo will happen the week before so I think we’d be clear even if I was late, but there’s no way I’d be that early.”

“Whatever you wanna do is fine with me,” he said kissing the top of my head.

“Cool! We have a wedding date!”

Fast forward to August 19th, in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. We had just become husband and wife, and were enjoying our week long honeymoon. We were hiking a trail that ran along the perimeter of Leigh Lake. It was close to sunset. We rounded a corner….and froze.

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We’d read all the advisories: “what to do if you come face-to-face with a bear“:

Don’t turn your back to them, it’s too submissive and they will attack.

Don’t look them in the eye, it’s a challenge to them.

Don’t run, you’ll elicit a chase.

Back away slowly so they know you’re not a threat.

But when fear seizes your throat, the fright and flight instinct has a way of moving your muscles for you.

We turned around, immediately breaking the first rule. Shocked. Scared. We began walking away, quickly, but good lord it was such an effort to keep from running. We had no idea if it was following us.

After what seemed like forever and every cuss word in the book uttered under panicked breath, we braved a quick, over-the-shoulder glance.

Whew! The trail was clear, but we didn’t slow our pace. Gripping each other’s arms we continued to fast-walk the hell outa there.

“Wow, that fucker was huge,” I panted. “It was so creepy the way it was just standing in the trees, swaying.”

“Standing? I saw it run across the trail towards the water. Looked like a baby.”

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A chill ran up my spine. “Mother of God, there were two! A mother and her baby! Mothers are the most aggressive!”

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“Holyshitholyshitholyshit we were just so damn lucky!” he said glancing over his shoulder again.

As soon as we confirmed she wasn’t after us, we started running. In fact we ran like chicken-shits all the way back to the car.

Half an hour later we arrived at our hotel room, still shaken, not able to believe what had just happened. You hear about seeing bears in the wild, but when you actually see one right in front of you, it’s astonishing how terrified and vulnerable you feel.

I went to the restroom to empty my full bladder, relieved I hadn’t peed my pants in the woods, and that’s when I realized something horrific.

The bear sighting had scared me so bad, it awakened Aunt Flo.

 Three weeks early.

On my honeymoon.

That bitch.

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Hell hath no fury like a woman whose honeymoon has just been hosed.

Have you ever had a bear encounter, or seen some other large animal in the wild? Or, have you ever had a vacation ruined by something unexpected? I love to hear your stories!

I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop

Screw You, Tommy. Screw. You.

Most of you are probably familiar with the Christmas Elf. You’ve seen him in all the stores as soon as the holidays officially arrived. You know, a week before Halloween. I admit, I didn’t know much about him until last year when my boys started reporting other kids in our neighborhood had elves and I began hearing, “Why don’t we have one, Mom?”

So I told them to wish for one, real hard, and wouldn’t ya know it, the tiny little guy showed up in our house. And by showed up, I mean I went to Target and paid $30 for the “kit” so my boys could have even more joy and wonder over the holidays.

Each child names his own elf. The boys named ours Tommy.

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Did his eyes just follow me?

There’s definitely parent benefit to this deal. The elf’s job is to watch kids and report back to Santa. Talk about bribery. I can’t count how many times I’ve said, “You’d better watch your behavior, the elf is watching!” And it works. It really works. But at the same time, it sort of pisses me off that they’re being good for the damn elf and not just cuz they’re supposed to be…but oh well, tis the season of trying to get on that coveted nice list.

It was kind of sweet, too. In case you’re not familiar, the elf moves every night. Each morning when the boys awoke, their first thought was to find the elf, and to hear their squeals of delight did provide me with a smile. At first. But thirty days of remembering to do this (and I didn’t always remember) can beat even the most enthusiastic parent down.

The boys would report to me what their friend’s elves were doing: “Tyler’s elf brings him presents”; “Olivia’s elf writes her notes”; “Caden’s elf has special clothes.”

Oh, so we’re upping the ante are we? I hear you loud and clear, Tommy.

Loud. And. Clear.

I not only had to remember to move him each night, but had to answer endless questions in tiny, swirly elf writing about his age, his life back “home”, and Santa, with little candies and gifts accompanying the return notes. Worse, the marketing dynamos behind this ruse had come up with little outfits you could buy to dress the elves in scarves and booties. Cuz why wouldn’t a stuffed doll be cold?

Tommy was starting to cause me some serious anxiety. In affect, this little elf had me by the round ‘n fuzzies.

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I was being tugged in two directions: the innocent exuberance in which the boys loved and interacted with the elf was truly precious. On the other hand, I felt resentful towards the whole expectation behind it, and I was getting competitive with other elves.

At war with an elf. Who wasn’t alive. In fact, I’m the friggin’ elf. My god….I gave him the finger when I walked by…..something’s so wrong with me…..

I made it through last year, but I have to say I was thrilled when it was time to pack that little effer away.

This past Sunday we were unpacking all the Christmas décor, and my 6yo found Tommy inside a Santa hat. I could’ve sworn I deliberately put him in a box in our closet to avoid this very scenario.

I was immediately hit with a barrage of questions:
“How could Tommy be in our Christmas stuff?”
“I thought he was supposed to come from the North Pole?”
“Why didn’t he bring us presents?”
“Is this a different one?”
“Is Tommy dead?”

Well played, Tommy. Well played. I have two words for your tiny elf ears:

GAME. ON.

Have you ever waged war with an inanimate object? Is there a holiday tradition you’re not crazy about? Do you have one of these elves? If so, how do you feel about it? I heart your comments BIG!

I Get What Your Throwin’ Down, Kindle. Loud And Clear.

A sizzling romance is unfolding right before our eyes.

Perhaps the most evocotive app of all time was recently introduced by Kindle, but they’re not touting it as anything other than helpful. No-o-o. The makers of Kindle are being giant teases. They’re baiting us. Flirting. Easing us in with a sweet little story. Before you even know what’s hit you, the new Kindle will be on your wish list, and you won’t even really know why.

MAYDAY IS WHY

Have you seen their new ad campaign? See for yourself and we’ll discuss:

Okay, so let’s talk. The guy is adorable and dresses nice. His house is bad-ass and unbelievably impeccable. The cleanliness suggests a wife (you know I’m right), yet there’s not a single sign he’s married in sight. Go back and watch it. No sign of family. No toys on the floor, no family portraits, no bra hanging on the doorknob purse on the counter. There’s a guitar mounted in the family room – he plays guitar – hot. A big-ole-doggie sits on the other side of the coffee table. Nice. A dog guy. And did you notice the sexual tension between him and “Amy”? Yeah. Guess how many times he’s gonna need the Mayday button later that night…..

If you had any doubt whether he’s single or if they were really flirting….they’ve come out with a second and third commercial (FF through the first one):

Still no kids or wifey! He does, however, have a niece, and shows Amy her photo….total chic bait! Between the dog, the guitar, and the cute niece, Amy doesn’t stand a chance. Did you see her get all giggly?! Hell, she would have done the hair flip if it wasn’t plastered to her head. Oh, and I don’t buy for a second that she can’t see him. They are soooo gonna DO IT.

I went on a couple of websites to research the new Kindle and I was tantalized by the descriptions. It’s described as coming in either 7″ or 8.9″  depending which model you choose, sheathed in sleek magnesium alloy. Powerful operation system (are they selling a Kindle or the Rabbit?). The Mayday app allows users to seek advice about their device, and operators can even take control of your device from afar (me likey).

I don’t know about you, but I’m wondering two things: 1) what happens when I press the Mayday button? Will I get a hot guy? Because if I don’t, the disappointment will be palpable, and 2) I can’t wait for the next installment of “50 Shades of Kindle” because it’s all sweet and innocent now, but I feel like that cutie with the guitar has a naughty side…

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Do you currently own a Kindle of any model? Have you ever felt the need for live help? Would you use a live help if you had it? Let’s get a conversation going –  I’m dying to hear from you!

I Don't Like Mondays Blog Hop

Lock Jaw and Night Vision, Heed the Farning!

Definition: Farning. Using fear to impress danger upon someone. ex: Don’t eat that or you’ll die. My mom was the master of this. Still is actually. She’s very…mmm…dramatic is a good word. I say this with affection. Probably.

I bring this up because many of her farnings had a definite effect on me. I guess this is a good thing when your intent is to keep a child from potential harm, but what if it continues well into adulthood? Here’s a sampling of my nut farm childhood:

1. Don’t talk on the phone during a storm or lightning will strike the house, go through the phone line and fry you like an egg. (even though this is only relevant if you’re on an “old fashioned” plug-in phone, I still won’t talk on my cell phone during storms)

2. If you get scraped by a rusty nail and you’re behind on tetanus you’ll get lock jaw and night vision. (Can you imagine the visual I had of this as a six year old? Although I’m intrigued by the idea of night vision, I’m still horrified by lock-jaw, cuz LOCK JAW)

3. Check all canned foods for botulism. If you eat something with botulism you’ll die within 5 minutes. (I still obsessively check cans for the “pop” and will not use one if it has even a tiny dent. I was so paranoid about this, I wouldn’t even eat canned food unless someone else was home until I was well into my twenties)

4. If you see a van driving next to you, RUN! Kidnappers drive vans and grab little kids and you’ll never see your family again. (um…no joke, I’m still scared shitless of vans. In fact, I’m quite skittish and always feel vulnerable when out in the open. My BFF finds this highly amusing)

5. Don’t take hot showers if you’re on your period, you could pass out, and could hit your head on the tile and drown. (*blank stare*) (To be honest, I think I heard this one from Girl Scouts, but my mom added the fear element of a head injury and possible drowning because merely “passing out” wasn’t enough of a warning. Obviously)

Now, maybe I was a super sensitive kid who took warnings very literal and that’s why they affected me so profoundly. OR, maybe the farnings were a bit too…hmm….harsh given my age at the time and could have been phrased more gently. *shrug* But it does give me pause when considering how to warn my own kids. For instance:

I see my 9yo playing in the street the other day. My warning, “get out of the street, you could get hit by a car” is no longer making an impact. I can tell. Cuz he’s still in the street. Herein lies my dilemma. How far do I go to impress upon him the gravity of the situation while not causing him to cower in the house the rest of his life cuz of mommy’s colorful description of brain matter on the asphalt?

When my 6yo is scared/mad he’ll run out of the house and hide under one of our cars (charming, btw). A few Saturdays ago he was upset he was being left with a sitter and did just that. The sitter was already in the house. The hubs and I had somewhere to be. I stomped walked patiently to the car. He was wedged all the way in the middle and refused to budge. What did I do? I reverted to what I knew.

“Hurry and get out from under there! There’s a storm coming, you can’t be near large metal objects when there’s lightning!” (FYI, there really were *storm clouds.)

Awful, or not? I mean, that’s true about lightning, everyone knows that. And it worked! We got him inside and made our movie on time. Yes, he’s terrified of lightning now, but he already sort of was so I still see this as a WIN.

The thing is, I know my mom’s heart was in the right place. I get it. I bring it up all in fun, I mean, if it wasn’t for her farnings, how would I know to go through my kid’s Halloween candy for signs of foul play. You know, cuz Mom warned me how people stick needles in Tootsie Rolls to inject cyanide, and open Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups to insert razor blades and then replace the wrappers.

WHAT.

*by storm clouds I mean some grey clouds on the horizon. And by grey clouds on the horizon I mean an airplane. Shut up. That plane was ominous as shit.

So how far is too far? Was I just overly sensitive as a kid? Do you use fear to keep your kids safe? Did your parents ever give you farnings that still stick with you? I LOVE hearing from you!