Morning: No idea...slept straight through. Prince Charming could have been singing outside my window, tossing boulders at my house, and I wouldn't have heard a thing. Zzzzzzzz.
Wake-Up: ARGH! What in the name of Halloween is that banging?!?!? Loud--I mean--loud banging. Dear God! Must grab something to defend myself. Ah, perfect: my trusty hair comb and umbrella. (upon reflection, not the best self-defense tools of the trade, but when bleary-eyed and groggy, you go with whatever looks like something you can fling, jab, or flail). My heart pounding, I tiptoed down the stairs, carefully rounding each corner like a slinky cat...in hot pink slippers. Nothing. Everything was absolutely still. Suppose it could have been a neighbor, but the banging sounded like it was inside the house. Odd.
Lunch and Some Myths: "I heard banging in the house, but when I checked, nothing was there," I said to my mom over a baked potato, salad, and milk (no soda--excellent me!).
"Hmm, well maybe you heard a spirit," she said in all seriousness. She does love Halloween.
"Um, what?" She takes this Halloween thing a bit too far sometimes.
"You know, they say virgins and children are more susceptible to sounds and voices from the other side."
Way too far.
Although, this isn't the first time I've heard of this myth and, with hand on heart, I can honestly say I have had my fair share of unexplainable events (one involving my papaw). It's all a little difficult to explain, but I tend to believe in the paranormal. I do like Ghost Hunters and Ghost Adventures--fun shows. I fully intend to watch Ghost Hunters Live tonight.
Still...
"Why virgins do you think?" I asked my mom.
"Well, I would think it's because virgins have less of life's scarring and are more open-minded to things."
Why do moms always say things in a manner that makes complete and total sense out of something totally incomprehensible? Hmm. It's all very intriguing. Maybe this is my calling. Maybe I'm to be a world-renowned medium and can interview famous spirits about their first sexual encounters. Uh, um...oooh, maybe I can roam heaven's citizens for my "dead" soul mate. Err. Maybe not.
Late Afternoon and Evening: Cowboys lost...again...to Jacksonville. Pathetic. We are now 1-6. It's almost getting comical, like playing connect-the-dots to see what picture you will get. Right now, I'm getting a picture of a giant horse's a**. Wonder what it will be by the end of the season...oh, wait, it is the end of the season.
Dale Earnhardt Jr: Oh, God, it just gets worse. I love watching him drive in restrictor plate races--he's like Maverick, You Big Stud (Top Gun, for those unfamiliar), especially in these races...fun to watch and you marvel over the man's technique. Today, at Talladega, Dale was driving masterfully; he had a fast car; he led laps...then, all heck broke loose. He got into Jeff Burton a little too hard and....you guessed it: wreck. Dale's chances of winning? None. Day over. So sad. Just sucks for him...want to see him back in winner's circle.
It was one of those racing deals. Dale felt terrible, blaming himself for the incident. Honestly, when I see some drivers give interviews (or run away from them) and have zero accountability, it makes me proud to cheer for Dale--he's all man.
Night: Watching Ghost Hunters LIVE on SyFy. Fun stuff.
RING. RING.
Oh, Lord, I'm about to find out everything...married, not married, married, not married. What do I want to hear? Would it even change anything? No, it wouldn't...it couldn't. My friends used to say it's written in the stars. If true, why have the stars been buried in clouds all these years?
RING. RING.
BFF: "We suck. We suck bad. It's over. We're going 1-15. We're the worst team in the NFL."
Time for a BFF rant on the Cowboys.
Late Night: After diagnosing the Cowboys and answering some e-mails, I finished watching Ghost Hunters Live (no major ghosts found), ate some candy corn (very wrong), drank some soda (really must stop), and decided to solve two of the world's major problems (much better use of time). It's unfortunate my mind has been preoccupied with more pressing matters...like whether I prefer the caviar shampoo sample I received to Pantene, my old standby (don't think I prefer said sample). Hmm. Not a great use of my time.
I blame the Cowboys...and my toilet. It all started with toilet toes.
Oh, and the Texas Rangers lost. Gotta tell ya, I'm just hitting it out of the ballpark this year, aren't I? If this is any indication of what's to come when pesky-pissy-pricky phone decides to ring, then I may need to consider massive quantities of Advil...and Pepto-Bismol.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
I Hate "What If..."
Wake-up: Did I just dream about The One That Wasn't? Damn...I did. It's the first time he has infiltrated my sleep since, oh, the night I found out he married Violet, the three headed she-creature. Of course, that particular dream involved him falling into a dark hole in the earth, never to emerge again. **Perhaps she is not at all the kind of individual as I've been told...she may be perfectly nice...still, I wish to think of her as a she-creature.
The night before learning of his sudden marriage, I had a dream where he and I were to be married, only I ran away on the day of said wedding; he had to take to the local news media, begging me to let him know where we should meet for our nuptials. Ironic.
Last night's dream was far more concerning. He invited me to his house...had something he needed to tell me: he wants a baby...and apparently I'm the one to help him with that endeavor.
My uterus hurts.
Stumbling out of bed, I realized the severe lack of sleep (and said dream that may have intoxicated my ovaries) has impacted my ability to function normally--my red toe and bruised knee provide the proof...I swear the door jam came out of nowhere.
Lunch: My phone is an ass. Most days it sits quietly by until Mom or Dad calls...or until bff rings to rant about the Cowboys, brag about his 175 IQ, or talk about his split personality (he doesn't actually have one, although sometimes I could swear he has 937 of them). Today was different. The phone stared at me, mocked me. You know I will ring when you least expect it, right? You'll forget to check the number, like always, and you will not be prepared for what I throw at you. Stupid, insensitive phone.
Still, it stayed quiet, which was quite the opposite of the other night. Amidst everything that has been going on around here, my phone jingled with a message from my living ghost. It was a simple message with a splash of tease. Since then, nothing. The phone remains blissfully, yet annoyingly silent...like it's hunting its prey--a miniature velociraptor waiting to strike with its ringtones and lob off my ears.
Night: Not much to report. Very quiet, thank goodness. My parents are doing well, which is a great blessing. I've tucked my phone away in the vein hope that it will find something better to do with its time...like lose all its battery charge.
Hmm. Can't help but wonder why The One That Wasn't dared to wriggle free from she-creature's tentacles to send a message to me...and why now? Hateful curiosity.
Of course, Dad isn't helping. Yesterday's comments are still weighing on my mind.
"Maybe he's not married. What if the messenger got the message wrong?"
Not possible. I don't think it's possible. How could someone be that wrong? What if it's possible? "I doubt it, Dad."
"You haven't heard it from him, have you? Until then, how do you know?"
Rats. Must raid Mom's DVD closet...yes, an entire area of her closet is devoted to DVDs. Ah! Ever After, Titanic, and You've Got Mail.
"Oh, no, not Titanic," my dad gasped, "you'll snot all over the place."
Lovely.
So, tonight I sit, trying not to contemplate things. I find thinking is highly overrated...kind-of like treadmills. Argh! My knee hurts...stupid door jam. Time for a small bowl of Captain Crunch and a little Pride & Prejudice.
Crud. Dallas Mavericks lost. Rangers are now down two games. Cowboys are...ugh....awful. Maybe I need a slightly bigger bowl of Captain Crunch...and a soda...and some candy corn...then something for my stomach which will undoubtedly flip sideways.
The night before learning of his sudden marriage, I had a dream where he and I were to be married, only I ran away on the day of said wedding; he had to take to the local news media, begging me to let him know where we should meet for our nuptials. Ironic.
Last night's dream was far more concerning. He invited me to his house...had something he needed to tell me: he wants a baby...and apparently I'm the one to help him with that endeavor.
My uterus hurts.
Stumbling out of bed, I realized the severe lack of sleep (and said dream that may have intoxicated my ovaries) has impacted my ability to function normally--my red toe and bruised knee provide the proof...I swear the door jam came out of nowhere.
Lunch: My phone is an ass. Most days it sits quietly by until Mom or Dad calls...or until bff rings to rant about the Cowboys, brag about his 175 IQ, or talk about his split personality (he doesn't actually have one, although sometimes I could swear he has 937 of them). Today was different. The phone stared at me, mocked me. You know I will ring when you least expect it, right? You'll forget to check the number, like always, and you will not be prepared for what I throw at you. Stupid, insensitive phone.
Still, it stayed quiet, which was quite the opposite of the other night. Amidst everything that has been going on around here, my phone jingled with a message from my living ghost. It was a simple message with a splash of tease. Since then, nothing. The phone remains blissfully, yet annoyingly silent...like it's hunting its prey--a miniature velociraptor waiting to strike with its ringtones and lob off my ears.
Night: Not much to report. Very quiet, thank goodness. My parents are doing well, which is a great blessing. I've tucked my phone away in the vein hope that it will find something better to do with its time...like lose all its battery charge.
Hmm. Can't help but wonder why The One That Wasn't dared to wriggle free from she-creature's tentacles to send a message to me...and why now? Hateful curiosity.
Of course, Dad isn't helping. Yesterday's comments are still weighing on my mind.
"Maybe he's not married. What if the messenger got the message wrong?"
Not possible. I don't think it's possible. How could someone be that wrong? What if it's possible? "I doubt it, Dad."
"You haven't heard it from him, have you? Until then, how do you know?"
Rats. Must raid Mom's DVD closet...yes, an entire area of her closet is devoted to DVDs. Ah! Ever After, Titanic, and You've Got Mail.
"Oh, no, not Titanic," my dad gasped, "you'll snot all over the place."
Lovely.
So, tonight I sit, trying not to contemplate things. I find thinking is highly overrated...kind-of like treadmills. Argh! My knee hurts...stupid door jam. Time for a small bowl of Captain Crunch and a little Pride & Prejudice.
Crud. Dallas Mavericks lost. Rangers are now down two games. Cowboys are...ugh....awful. Maybe I need a slightly bigger bowl of Captain Crunch...and a soda...and some candy corn...then something for my stomach which will undoubtedly flip sideways.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Old Ghosts Resurface
First, let me apologize for falling behind on reading blogs. Maybe I'm weak, but when either one of my parents gets so violently sick that they can barely breathe, it takes every fiber of my being to stay strong. My parents mean the world to me-- I can't stand seeing them sick...I can't even handle the thought. I just always want them to be happy and healthy. Please know that everything is getting better, but it has been a rough couple of days.
Old Ghosts Resurface...
I did want to share something y'all might find interesting...sure as heck shocked the you-know-what out of me.
Ghostly spirits are said to have easier access to the living during this time of year. What I failed to realize was the impact Halloween has on living ghosts...the kind you don't expect to hear from again...the kind that leaves a message on your phone...the kind that is supposed to be living his happily ever after.
I know one thing...this happened sooner than most thought. What a treat (meant sarcastically) he is...or a trick...or both. Haunted at Halloween...who would have thought?
Old Ghosts Resurface...
I did want to share something y'all might find interesting...sure as heck shocked the you-know-what out of me.
Ghostly spirits are said to have easier access to the living during this time of year. What I failed to realize was the impact Halloween has on living ghosts...the kind you don't expect to hear from again...the kind that leaves a message on your phone...the kind that is supposed to be living his happily ever after.
I know one thing...this happened sooner than most thought. What a treat (meant sarcastically) he is...or a trick...or both. Haunted at Halloween...who would have thought?
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
True Blood Tuesday--Trick or Treat?
Halloween is upon us, the night where the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. It seems only fitting we have a little trick or treat post, True Blood style.
Are you ready for some scoop on what may be upcoming in Season 4?
1. Expect a great deal of magic in season 4...literally. We're talking witches, wizards, and sorcerers folks.
2. Shapeshifters will get an important role next season, with the introduction of new characters, an exploration into new shapeshifting avenues; and a rumored in-depth look into the mythology of shapeshifting.
3. Trick or Treat? Rumors are flying that season 4 may explore a new relationship between familiar characters...Sam and Bill. (How do y'all feel about this one? Remember, Sam had a very revealing dream about Bill in season 3).
4. We'll have some new characters thrown into the mix. Thanks to EW.com, we have the following character revelations: Andy's sister, Portia, will be a sharp-tongued lawyer; Naomi, the cage fighter, will add some spice; Queen Mab will be a short-tempered ruler, possibly of Sookie's fairyland; and Suzanne, a housewife type will stop at nothing to bond with her kind.
Happy Halloween!
Are you ready for some scoop on what may be upcoming in Season 4?
1. Expect a great deal of magic in season 4...literally. We're talking witches, wizards, and sorcerers folks.
2. Shapeshifters will get an important role next season, with the introduction of new characters, an exploration into new shapeshifting avenues; and a rumored in-depth look into the mythology of shapeshifting.
3. Trick or Treat? Rumors are flying that season 4 may explore a new relationship between familiar characters...Sam and Bill. (How do y'all feel about this one? Remember, Sam had a very revealing dream about Bill in season 3).
4. We'll have some new characters thrown into the mix. Thanks to EW.com, we have the following character revelations: Andy's sister, Portia, will be a sharp-tongued lawyer; Naomi, the cage fighter, will add some spice; Queen Mab will be a short-tempered ruler, possibly of Sookie's fairyland; and Suzanne, a housewife type will stop at nothing to bond with her kind.
Happy Halloween!
Monday, October 25, 2010
The End Of The Cowboys' Season
I'm fairly certain the end was already here, but when your QB gets knocked out of the game with a broken collarbone, you are officially done, signed, sealed, and delivered. Tony Romo is out for potentially 8-10 weeks. Now, you know I've been pretty tough on Romo. Then again, many lifelong Cowboys' fans feel the same way, and experts like Super Bowl winning head coach, Tony Dungy, as well as former Cowboys' stars, Tony Dorsett and Charles Hayley. I'm not alone in how I feel.
Thank our defense and special teams for the 20 points; Romo didn't have to do much, apart from not turning it over.
Now we have 38 year old John Kitna in at QB. Apparently, he's in there because he is seasoned and experienced. Some would argue he is indeed experienced...at losing. Bless him, I really don't envy his position, but fans do not want him in there to carry their team. We're about to go 1-5, the season is gone, why not take a chance? Throw in your underdog, Texas A&M QB, Stephen McGee. What do you have to lose? Give the kid a chance--see what he can do! He just might give this team a much needed shot in the arm (they already have a shot in the foot).
For now, I'll watch them self-destruct. They've given up. It's deplorable, depressing, and embarrassing. I can tell y'all one thing, if I could be down there, I'd have their butts in gear so fast it would make your head spin.
This team needs an overhaul, there is no question. Should this team go 1-15 with the on-paper talent they have, perhaps Jerry will look back to the 1990's and realize the formula that worked...the formula that put the fear in every opponent we faced...the formula that won us Super Bowls and made us the team of the 90s.
I want my old Cowboys back.
Thank our defense and special teams for the 20 points; Romo didn't have to do much, apart from not turning it over.
Now we have 38 year old John Kitna in at QB. Apparently, he's in there because he is seasoned and experienced. Some would argue he is indeed experienced...at losing. Bless him, I really don't envy his position, but fans do not want him in there to carry their team. We're about to go 1-5, the season is gone, why not take a chance? Throw in your underdog, Texas A&M QB, Stephen McGee. What do you have to lose? Give the kid a chance--see what he can do! He just might give this team a much needed shot in the arm (they already have a shot in the foot).
For now, I'll watch them self-destruct. They've given up. It's deplorable, depressing, and embarrassing. I can tell y'all one thing, if I could be down there, I'd have their butts in gear so fast it would make your head spin.
This team needs an overhaul, there is no question. Should this team go 1-15 with the on-paper talent they have, perhaps Jerry will look back to the 1990's and realize the formula that worked...the formula that put the fear in every opponent we faced...the formula that won us Super Bowls and made us the team of the 90s.
I want my old Cowboys back.
Random Gripes (Sort-of An I Don't Get It Thing)
I'm bored and sleepy. Let's gripe!
There are some commercials on the air today that really bug me.
1. Tide (My mom HATES this commercial)--The mom who borrows her daughter's green shirt. So, parents are supposed to teach their children to always tell the truth; parents expect their children not to lie. YET, in this ad, good 'ole mom lies to her daughter. Brief recap: Daughter asks mom if she has seen her green shirt; mom responds, "It's not really my style;" mom remembers wearing it on a girls' night out and spilling something on it; mom digs the shirt out, uses Tide, and cleans the shirt; the next day, mom comments to her daughter, "Oh, you found your shirt," when her daughter walks in wearing it; daughter replies, "Oh, yeah, it must have been hiding in my closet somewhere." The commercial ends with the mom looking pretty proud. Isn't that totally hypocritical? (Not to mention the florescent green top is just all sorts of wrong...not a florescent fan, unless it's on a sign).
2. (Not sure of the brand...Apple, maybe?) There is a commercial out now where everyone in every situation uses a phone to make a decision for them: Girl tells a monster in her bedroom, "It says you're not real. Sorry;" etc. What? Really? Can we not figure things out for ourselves? Do we need a phone to make decisions for us, replace common sense, etc? Why don't we just find another brilliant technological advance to dumb down society and stifle imagination even more! Irritates me.
3. What's with all the di&% drug commercials today? I don't need to watch a NASCAR race or football game in the middle of the day, on a Sunday, and see a constant stream of horny men with ED. Several things bug me about these ads.
A. These commercials shouldn't air until after 11 p.m. Nobody wants to see those commercials, especially during sporting events. Imagine watching a football game with your son or daughter and having them ask, "What is ED?" Besides, let's be real here, if a man has ANY issue with his perky, he's going to Superman his way to the nearest doctor without ever having to see a commercial for di&^ drugs.
B. Why do the men in the ads have to get some when the women are typically busy doing household chores? Laundry, painting, etc. Huh? I mean, really? What happened to romance? So, all we can expect is: "I'm horny, it's working, lay down, dear." Ick.
C. I always laugh at the men in the commercials wanting to get busy with their wives. Now, I'd like to believe a man would want to be with his wife upon getting the goods working again, but...look around! He may get it on with his wife because she is the there in the moment (his moment), but do you really think he won't want to share his rediscovered manhood with newer models? (I blame Tiger and Brett for this type of thinking.)
Speaking of #4...
Brett Favre: Well, he has admitted to sending the Playboy and former Jets' employee voice mails--you know, the booty calls--but denies any sexting (i.e. pics of his perky). Well, I guess he really tried to hook up with her. I feel so bad for his wife. What was he thinking?! We know what he was thinking with, but did he even think of his wife when he tried to bed another woman?
Experts say that people forgive and forget; that if he would simply admit his wrongdoings and apologize, people would wrap their arms around him and forgive all. Really? An apology after getting caught hardly constitutes an apology in my book. Like Tiger Woods, I will never be able to look at Favre the same way again. In fact, I can't even look at him. He turns my stomach, as does Woods. Maybe the vast majority of people will forgive and forget...I'm not one of them. Reckon that makes me an outsider...imagine that. :)
Okay, I'm done...until tonight...after the Cowboys play. Ugh. My stomach churns just thinking about it.
There are some commercials on the air today that really bug me.
1. Tide (My mom HATES this commercial)--The mom who borrows her daughter's green shirt. So, parents are supposed to teach their children to always tell the truth; parents expect their children not to lie. YET, in this ad, good 'ole mom lies to her daughter. Brief recap: Daughter asks mom if she has seen her green shirt; mom responds, "It's not really my style;" mom remembers wearing it on a girls' night out and spilling something on it; mom digs the shirt out, uses Tide, and cleans the shirt; the next day, mom comments to her daughter, "Oh, you found your shirt," when her daughter walks in wearing it; daughter replies, "Oh, yeah, it must have been hiding in my closet somewhere." The commercial ends with the mom looking pretty proud. Isn't that totally hypocritical? (Not to mention the florescent green top is just all sorts of wrong...not a florescent fan, unless it's on a sign).
2. (Not sure of the brand...Apple, maybe?) There is a commercial out now where everyone in every situation uses a phone to make a decision for them: Girl tells a monster in her bedroom, "It says you're not real. Sorry;" etc. What? Really? Can we not figure things out for ourselves? Do we need a phone to make decisions for us, replace common sense, etc? Why don't we just find another brilliant technological advance to dumb down society and stifle imagination even more! Irritates me.
3. What's with all the di&% drug commercials today? I don't need to watch a NASCAR race or football game in the middle of the day, on a Sunday, and see a constant stream of horny men with ED. Several things bug me about these ads.
A. These commercials shouldn't air until after 11 p.m. Nobody wants to see those commercials, especially during sporting events. Imagine watching a football game with your son or daughter and having them ask, "What is ED?" Besides, let's be real here, if a man has ANY issue with his perky, he's going to Superman his way to the nearest doctor without ever having to see a commercial for di&^ drugs.
B. Why do the men in the ads have to get some when the women are typically busy doing household chores? Laundry, painting, etc. Huh? I mean, really? What happened to romance? So, all we can expect is: "I'm horny, it's working, lay down, dear." Ick.
C. I always laugh at the men in the commercials wanting to get busy with their wives. Now, I'd like to believe a man would want to be with his wife upon getting the goods working again, but...look around! He may get it on with his wife because she is the there in the moment (his moment), but do you really think he won't want to share his rediscovered manhood with newer models? (I blame Tiger and Brett for this type of thinking.)
Speaking of #4...
Brett Favre: Well, he has admitted to sending the Playboy and former Jets' employee voice mails--you know, the booty calls--but denies any sexting (i.e. pics of his perky). Well, I guess he really tried to hook up with her. I feel so bad for his wife. What was he thinking?! We know what he was thinking with, but did he even think of his wife when he tried to bed another woman?
Experts say that people forgive and forget; that if he would simply admit his wrongdoings and apologize, people would wrap their arms around him and forgive all. Really? An apology after getting caught hardly constitutes an apology in my book. Like Tiger Woods, I will never be able to look at Favre the same way again. In fact, I can't even look at him. He turns my stomach, as does Woods. Maybe the vast majority of people will forgive and forget...I'm not one of them. Reckon that makes me an outsider...imagine that. :)
Okay, I'm done...until tonight...after the Cowboys play. Ugh. My stomach churns just thinking about it.
Makeup Magic Monday: Benefit Dandelion Luminizer
This is probably my favorite "blush" ever. I don't like to look like Betty Boop when I apply blush. I prefer a natural pink. Hello, Dandelion! This powder is truly your natural pale pink in a box. In fact, it's not really a blush--it's light, natural and makes you look like you had the best sleep of your life.
The benefits of Benefit's Dandelion:
1. Natural looking--purely the perfect pink I've ever found.
2. Will NOT break out sensitive skin, based on my findings.
3. Large quantity--this will last you ages
4. Adjustable color--because it looks so natural, you can easily add extra blush without looking like Betty Boop. Mistake Proof!!!
5. This is one of those colors that will look gorgeous on any skin tone.
Benefit's Dandelion, available at Sephora, $28.
The benefits of Benefit's Dandelion:
1. Natural looking--purely the perfect pink I've ever found.
2. Will NOT break out sensitive skin, based on my findings.
3. Large quantity--this will last you ages
4. Adjustable color--because it looks so natural, you can easily add extra blush without looking like Betty Boop. Mistake Proof!!!
5. This is one of those colors that will look gorgeous on any skin tone.
Benefit's Dandelion, available at Sephora, $28.
Friday, October 22, 2010
From A Yankees Fan And A Proud Texan
Only moments ago, I watched the Texas Rangers advance to their very first World Series, and I couldn't be happier. In fact, I'm in tears. This may sound very odd coming from a lifelong Yankees fan, but I'm first and foremost a Texan. How could I not be happy?
My daddy introduced me to the Yankees when I was teeny tiny. I heard all of his Yankees' stories, admired all of his baseball cards he collected as a little boy. The Yankees have been around a long, long time; their history is unparalleled. Compared to the Yankees, the Rangers are practically a brand new franchise. As a little girl, my parents took me out to see the Rangers play. They taught me to love the Yankees, and embrace my Texas team.
So, as I sit here, tears filling my eyes, listening to them play a proud Texas country song in celebration of their first World Series appearance, I'm embracing my hometown team. If I had to see the Yankees lose to anyone, it would be the Texas Rangers. I'll miss seeing the Yankees in the World Series, but you can bet your bottom dollar every Texas-fiber in me will be fiercely willing those Rangers to their first World Series win.
Congratulations Rangers, y'all played like champions...now, bring it home.
My daddy introduced me to the Yankees when I was teeny tiny. I heard all of his Yankees' stories, admired all of his baseball cards he collected as a little boy. The Yankees have been around a long, long time; their history is unparalleled. Compared to the Yankees, the Rangers are practically a brand new franchise. As a little girl, my parents took me out to see the Rangers play. They taught me to love the Yankees, and embrace my Texas team.
So, as I sit here, tears filling my eyes, listening to them play a proud Texas country song in celebration of their first World Series appearance, I'm embracing my hometown team. If I had to see the Yankees lose to anyone, it would be the Texas Rangers. I'll miss seeing the Yankees in the World Series, but you can bet your bottom dollar every Texas-fiber in me will be fiercely willing those Rangers to their first World Series win.
Congratulations Rangers, y'all played like champions...now, bring it home.
Friday's Celebrity Former Frisky Virgin: Adriana Lima
Victoria's Secret bombshell, Adriana Lima, shocked all when in 2006 she revealed to GQ magazine that she was saving herself for marriage. "Sex is for after marriage," she stated. "They have to respect that this is my choice, if there's no respect that means they don't want me." (GQ magazine, 2006).
Adriana, now 29, is no stranger to dating celebrity men, but there was one man who waited: Serbian basketball star Marko Jaric, 32. The two began dating in 2007, and on Valentine's Day 2009, they were married.
Anytime I start feeling a little in over my head, my mom likes to point to Adriana, to which my response is always the same: "Yeah, but, mom, she's a supermodel. Totally different." Still, it is nice to know there are men that will wait...for supermodels...er...positive thinking time, positive thinking time.
Adriana, now 29, is no stranger to dating celebrity men, but there was one man who waited: Serbian basketball star Marko Jaric, 32. The two began dating in 2007, and on Valentine's Day 2009, they were married.
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| From Fox & AP |
Anytime I start feeling a little in over my head, my mom likes to point to Adriana, to which my response is always the same: "Yeah, but, mom, she's a supermodel. Totally different." Still, it is nice to know there are men that will wait...for supermodels...er...positive thinking time, positive thinking time.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Stereotype #9: Virgins Wear Long Skirts & Turtlenecks
Since it has been a pretty daunting week, I figured we'd have a little fun with one of the more amusing stereotypes I've come across.
"Virgins wear long skirts and turtlenecks."
Sigh. Another "virgins lack a fashion sense" stereotype. Virgins are typically portrayed in film as these dorky, pathetic, scholarly types, who all seem to dress the same way: overalls or long skirts, high-neck blouses or flannels, glasses, a pencil behind the ear, and countless library books weighing down their twiggy arms. It's really frustrating.
First, turtlenecks can be sexy, so let's not knock the turtleneck. Not all of them are cut boxy; not all of them transform you into a giraffe.
Personally, I don't like long skirts--not my style--but there's nothing wrong with them. Aside from a long, flowing sarong that I've tied around my bathing suit for an evening walk on the beach, I've never worn a long skirt.
Glasses can be sexy. I'm not sure why this is always made to be the mark of a dork...or worse yet, a dorky virgin.
Bottom line is this: Many virgins have evolved past the fashion stereotypes. You likely won't be able to recognize a virgin just by looking. We aren't afraid to wear v-necks or fitted jeans. Maybe I'm wrong, but I've always believed "sexy" follows class, elegance, and comfort more so than it follows the "show it all" outfits. Subtle sexy versus outright sexy. My mama always said to leave a little to the imagination, and she's never wrong (don't tell her I said that). :)
You want more proof that we've evolved past these ridiculous fashion stereotypes? Take a look at both current and former celebrity virgins--singers, actresses, models, etc. Now, I ask you, do any of them fit the stereotypical virgin mold? I don't think so.
I so hope this made sense--I'm still needing to catch up on some sleep from the week that has royally kicked my butt senseless.
Stereotype #9-SLAYED.
P.S. There's nothing wrong with being a dork...besides, I think there's a little dork that resides in all of us anyway.
"Virgins wear long skirts and turtlenecks."
Sigh. Another "virgins lack a fashion sense" stereotype. Virgins are typically portrayed in film as these dorky, pathetic, scholarly types, who all seem to dress the same way: overalls or long skirts, high-neck blouses or flannels, glasses, a pencil behind the ear, and countless library books weighing down their twiggy arms. It's really frustrating.
First, turtlenecks can be sexy, so let's not knock the turtleneck. Not all of them are cut boxy; not all of them transform you into a giraffe.
Personally, I don't like long skirts--not my style--but there's nothing wrong with them. Aside from a long, flowing sarong that I've tied around my bathing suit for an evening walk on the beach, I've never worn a long skirt.
Glasses can be sexy. I'm not sure why this is always made to be the mark of a dork...or worse yet, a dorky virgin.
Bottom line is this: Many virgins have evolved past the fashion stereotypes. You likely won't be able to recognize a virgin just by looking. We aren't afraid to wear v-necks or fitted jeans. Maybe I'm wrong, but I've always believed "sexy" follows class, elegance, and comfort more so than it follows the "show it all" outfits. Subtle sexy versus outright sexy. My mama always said to leave a little to the imagination, and she's never wrong (don't tell her I said that). :)
You want more proof that we've evolved past these ridiculous fashion stereotypes? Take a look at both current and former celebrity virgins--singers, actresses, models, etc. Now, I ask you, do any of them fit the stereotypical virgin mold? I don't think so.
I so hope this made sense--I'm still needing to catch up on some sleep from the week that has royally kicked my butt senseless.
Stereotype #9-SLAYED.
P.S. There's nothing wrong with being a dork...besides, I think there's a little dork that resides in all of us anyway.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Terrible Toilet Update and New Radio Rules
After yesterday's fiasco, I made a decision: When fate throws a load of hooey at me, DO NOT turn on the radio. I can't tell you how many times that dang radio has mocked me, and it's usually when I'm having one of those crappy, over the top, hellish days. I mean, seriously, the sign song plays AFTER I ask for a stupid sign WHILE I'm standing in my birthday suit with toilet toes. Really?! I hate that damn song...always have...hate it more now, I must say.
So, no radio when the crap starts piling up. CD's only. Christmas CD's, to be exact. Happy holiday music lightens my spirit every time I hear it. Besides, stinky fate can't compete with anything Christmas or holy, right?
Terrible Toilet: Oh, it's so messed up. I literally don't want to flush the dang thing. It bubbles, spits, wheezes, and the water in the bowl doesn't ripple, it swirls or spins. It also does this fill-recede-fill-recede thing that it never did before. Odd. So, who's a girl gonna call? Toiletbusters!!! Otherwise known as a girl's daddy.
In walks my dad--the look on his face was somewhere between amused and shocked. He took in the sadly crumpled, oddly misshapen throw rug, the obtrusive garbage bag, and towels I used to mop up the mess, all laying in the tub, and sighed, "It sure looked like a great party."
Funny. "I'm just making absolutely certain everything dries before bringing it downstairs," I said, trying to avoid what I knew was coming. "Um, so, yeah, then I'll have to scrub the tub, but I didn't know where else to put everything and I didn't want to drag it through the place and the garbage doesn't come until later in the week, so..." I just kept rattling on, hoping...but then I looked at his face...it was coming...any second...and there it goes...
My dad's laughter is something out of a Hanna Barbera cartoon--it just compels you to laugh...so I did.
After clearing away the laughter tears, he observed my toilet. He looked into the back part and started pointing things out, explaining what each thing does.
Uh-huh. I felt like I was in Charlie Brown's world and my dad was one of the teachers. Wah wah woh wah woh. The only words that remotely resembled English with me were: "faulty," "replacement," "float," "Home Depot."
As far as I know, something needs to be replaced and the Home Depot probably has it, I think...
Until then, no radio and flush with caution.
So, no radio when the crap starts piling up. CD's only. Christmas CD's, to be exact. Happy holiday music lightens my spirit every time I hear it. Besides, stinky fate can't compete with anything Christmas or holy, right?
Terrible Toilet: Oh, it's so messed up. I literally don't want to flush the dang thing. It bubbles, spits, wheezes, and the water in the bowl doesn't ripple, it swirls or spins. It also does this fill-recede-fill-recede thing that it never did before. Odd. So, who's a girl gonna call? Toiletbusters!!! Otherwise known as a girl's daddy.
In walks my dad--the look on his face was somewhere between amused and shocked. He took in the sadly crumpled, oddly misshapen throw rug, the obtrusive garbage bag, and towels I used to mop up the mess, all laying in the tub, and sighed, "It sure looked like a great party."
Funny. "I'm just making absolutely certain everything dries before bringing it downstairs," I said, trying to avoid what I knew was coming. "Um, so, yeah, then I'll have to scrub the tub, but I didn't know where else to put everything and I didn't want to drag it through the place and the garbage doesn't come until later in the week, so..." I just kept rattling on, hoping...but then I looked at his face...it was coming...any second...and there it goes...
My dad's laughter is something out of a Hanna Barbera cartoon--it just compels you to laugh...so I did.
After clearing away the laughter tears, he observed my toilet. He looked into the back part and started pointing things out, explaining what each thing does.
Uh-huh. I felt like I was in Charlie Brown's world and my dad was one of the teachers. Wah wah woh wah woh. The only words that remotely resembled English with me were: "faulty," "replacement," "float," "Home Depot."
As far as I know, something needs to be replaced and the Home Depot probably has it, I think...
Until then, no radio and flush with caution.
Monday, October 18, 2010
So Not The Sign I Was Looking For
It all started when I asked for a sign.
*I'd like to say it started when the Cowboys lost, but that's not likely considering pathetic play, stupid penalties, and evaporating-should-have-been-wins are becoming a weekly occurrence. Unfortunately, I can't blame everything on them...or can I? Hmm*
I have no idea what possessed me to ask for a stupid sign--suppose I was looking for a little direction, maybe even a cosmic pat on the back. Boy, did I get it--a great big slap-you-in-the-face-spit-on-your-feet-knock-you-on-your-a** pat on the back.
At about 12 a.m., I foolishly asked for a sign.
At 1 a.m., I get a splitting headache. I blamed the Cowboys' loss.
At. 2:15 a.m., after drinking far too much soda (helps the headaches), I finally kicked the nasty headache and tried to go to sleep.
At exactly 3:58 a.m., the gallon of soda I stupidly downed kicked in.
At 4:00 a.m., my usually reliable toilet made a very un-toilet-like sound. It sounded like a cross between a Shrek burp and a Fiona fart. I turned, bleary eyed, to see water flowing out from under the lid and all over the floor, my feet, the throw rug....everything. Horrified, I tried to lift the ball-thing in back part of the potty (no clue about proper potty lingo, apart from calling it a sh*!ster). Nothing doing. The damn thing was stuck. Somehow, after tucking my hand under the "thing," I was able to get it stopped. Terrible Toilet finally cleared itself without the assistance of a plunger. "Oh, now you clear yourself," I grumbled, looking around at the mess.
At 4:15 a.m., I began mopping up my bathroom. But I couldn't stop there...I grabbed the disinfectant and got to work. I have great respect for Snow White and her whole whistle-while-you-work thing. Me? I gag while I work. Mop. Mop. Gag. Mop. Mop. Gag. (picture the White Queen in Alice In Wonderland and her slight gag reflex...yeah, similar to that).
4:40 a.m.: My bathroom is clean and squeaky...me feet, however, are not. GAG. Thoroughly repulsed, I grabbed a towel, wash cloth, and my hair clip, intending to take a shower...I absolutely had to get the toilet water remnants off of my feet. GAG.
4:50 a.m.: Just before slipping into the shower, I flipped on my bathroom radio--I find music takes the edge off...unless, of course, fate decides to shove it up your a** sideways. The song? "...I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign..." I stood there, a little chilled, completely naked, and thought, "So, that's my sign? I'm destined to get sh!* on for eternity. Fabulous. Great. Really super."
5:15 a.m.: I head downstairs to grab a glass of milk, settle into my comfy recliner, and watch a little television, all in an effort to calm down. I flip on ESPN. Cowboys' highlights. Sigh. Flip to Cinemax On Demand. SNAP! The cable box blows out. Wonderful.
Luna Lovegood would smile, take the lemons life throws at her, make some brilliant lemonade-flavored happiness potion, and move on to the next, no worries.
I prefer to take the lemons, chuck them back as hard as I can, and hope it hits him, her, or it right where it hurts.
To add insult to injury, I've been fighting a semi-mild case of food poisoning/bad reaction since about 4 p.m. today.
Guess I got my sign. See if I EVER ask for one again. Fate. I have thoughts. Many thoughts. Can you guess the choice two-word phrase that has been running through my mind all day? Yeah. About sums up my thoughts on fate at the moment.
*I'd like to say it started when the Cowboys lost, but that's not likely considering pathetic play, stupid penalties, and evaporating-should-have-been-wins are becoming a weekly occurrence. Unfortunately, I can't blame everything on them...or can I? Hmm*
I have no idea what possessed me to ask for a stupid sign--suppose I was looking for a little direction, maybe even a cosmic pat on the back. Boy, did I get it--a great big slap-you-in-the-face-spit-on-your-feet-knock-you-on-your-a** pat on the back.
At about 12 a.m., I foolishly asked for a sign.
At 1 a.m., I get a splitting headache. I blamed the Cowboys' loss.
At. 2:15 a.m., after drinking far too much soda (helps the headaches), I finally kicked the nasty headache and tried to go to sleep.
At exactly 3:58 a.m., the gallon of soda I stupidly downed kicked in.
At 4:00 a.m., my usually reliable toilet made a very un-toilet-like sound. It sounded like a cross between a Shrek burp and a Fiona fart. I turned, bleary eyed, to see water flowing out from under the lid and all over the floor, my feet, the throw rug....everything. Horrified, I tried to lift the ball-thing in back part of the potty (no clue about proper potty lingo, apart from calling it a sh*!ster). Nothing doing. The damn thing was stuck. Somehow, after tucking my hand under the "thing," I was able to get it stopped. Terrible Toilet finally cleared itself without the assistance of a plunger. "Oh, now you clear yourself," I grumbled, looking around at the mess.
At 4:15 a.m., I began mopping up my bathroom. But I couldn't stop there...I grabbed the disinfectant and got to work. I have great respect for Snow White and her whole whistle-while-you-work thing. Me? I gag while I work. Mop. Mop. Gag. Mop. Mop. Gag. (picture the White Queen in Alice In Wonderland and her slight gag reflex...yeah, similar to that).
4:40 a.m.: My bathroom is clean and squeaky...me feet, however, are not. GAG. Thoroughly repulsed, I grabbed a towel, wash cloth, and my hair clip, intending to take a shower...I absolutely had to get the toilet water remnants off of my feet. GAG.
4:50 a.m.: Just before slipping into the shower, I flipped on my bathroom radio--I find music takes the edge off...unless, of course, fate decides to shove it up your a** sideways. The song? "...I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign..." I stood there, a little chilled, completely naked, and thought, "So, that's my sign? I'm destined to get sh!* on for eternity. Fabulous. Great. Really super."
5:15 a.m.: I head downstairs to grab a glass of milk, settle into my comfy recliner, and watch a little television, all in an effort to calm down. I flip on ESPN. Cowboys' highlights. Sigh. Flip to Cinemax On Demand. SNAP! The cable box blows out. Wonderful.
Luna Lovegood would smile, take the lemons life throws at her, make some brilliant lemonade-flavored happiness potion, and move on to the next, no worries.
I prefer to take the lemons, chuck them back as hard as I can, and hope it hits him, her, or it right where it hurts.
To add insult to injury, I've been fighting a semi-mild case of food poisoning/bad reaction since about 4 p.m. today.
Guess I got my sign. See if I EVER ask for one again. Fate. I have thoughts. Many thoughts. Can you guess the choice two-word phrase that has been running through my mind all day? Yeah. About sums up my thoughts on fate at the moment.
Makeup Magic Monday: StriVectin-SD Eye Cream
Best. Eye. Cream. Ever. I swear by this stuff--I've been using it for years. Originally, StriVectin was used by women who suffer from stretch marks, post-pregnancy. However, women discovered additional benefits: anti-wrinkle and dark circle preventative agents. Because the original formula contained a specific fragrance some women found too strong to use around the sensitive eye area, the makers of StriVectin re-formulated the famous cream sans fragrance.
StriVectin-SD Eye Cream, $59, available at Macy's.
StriVectin-SD Eye Cream, $59, available at Macy's.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday's NON Celebrity Frisky Virgin: The Frisky Virgin...Me.
It's time I live up to that courage badge...
This is me:
This is my heart:
Thursday, October 14, 2010
My Little Blog Shines...And It Means Everything To Me.
I am quite literally over the moon....and gobsmacked (love that word--it just totally captures the emotion). Jen at Ink Drops has taken the time to create a beautiful blog award called The Star Award, Your Blog Shines. What a kind, generous, wonderful idea. I can't possibly thank you enough, Jen.
When I first started this blog, I was admittedly nervous...okay, I was utterly terrified. It's no small thing to just say to whoever may stumble upon your blog, "hey, I'm a virgin...at 32!" I was afraid people would lash out, say cruel things, belittle me, ridicule me...basically bully me. Unfortunately, bullying isn't something that happens to kids alone; as bullies grow and mature, so does the style of bullying (which begs the question: Do bullies actually mature? Or do they just get better at bullying?).
From what we've seen on the news, the bullying is getting worse by the day. I don't think I'll ever understand why some people feel the need to treat others badly. Does it really make the bully feel better about themselves? Does it make them feel more important? Why hurt another human being? I don't get it...never will. We're all in the same boat, really...we're all trying to figure out how to plug the leaks.
I've heard my fair share and I've shed some tears, but my skin has gotten pretty thick in the process. Still, it stings when I hear the backhanded comment or see "the look," usually accompanied by the ever-popular head tilt. Laughing is my rule at this stage in life.
After over four months of blogging, I have made some very dear friends (yes, I consider you my friends, silly at it seems), received more support and encouragement than I could possibly imagine, and have had actual blog awards bestowed upon my little blog.
I guess I just wanted to say thank you--through this blog and through your support, this once little cowardly lion has found her courage badge...and I'm proudly, openly wearing it, maybe for the first time in my life.
If Karma Is A B&!#$...
...then it follows that karma is a female, right? It would certainly explain yesterday's rather poetic happenstance involving one Brett Favre.
See for yourself:
To be honest, I found this both amusing and sad. Here we have a football icon writhing in pain and no one around him seems to care. How far he has fallen.
See for yourself:
To be honest, I found this both amusing and sad. Here we have a football icon writhing in pain and no one around him seems to care. How far he has fallen.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Versatile Blogger Award!!
I was so honored to find that both J. Day at The Ramblings of Charlie Brown and Jewels at Turning 30: A Journey of Self Exploration awarded me with The Versatile Blogger Award. Thank you both so very, very much. These awards mean the world to me, as corny as that may sound. Truly, I am always stunned to receive one. I'm such a dork sometimes. Anyone who hasn't visited J. Day and Jewels, you really have to when you get a chance--they have amazingly entertaining, thoughtful, funny, and thought-provoking blogs. You will not be disappointed.
Here are the rules in accepting this award:
1. Thank and link back to the person who gave me this award. (see above)
2. Tell everyone 7 things about myself
3. Pass this award to 15 other bloggers (I'm changing this one to 9 because of time constraints).
4. Contact the bloggers that I picked and tell them about the award (I may have to do this over the course of a day or two)
7 things about myself:
1. I love doing dishes, but HATE when people stack dirty dishes on top of dirty dishes--that just means I have to wash the top and bottom. And, yes, I know that's why God invented dishwashers, but I still feel the need to have them nice and clean prior to going through the machine.
2. Germ-a-phobic. Yeah, I use waterless hand sanitizer wherever I go. Actually, I have a small travel bottle for each handbag, including one for the car. Touch a menu, use the hand sanitizer; touch a public sink handle (which I try not to do), use the hand sanitizer; if you are sick and shake my hand, don't be offended, but I'm breaking out the hand sanitizer. People USED to think I was nutty, but when I rarely got colds, they started catching on and now can't do without the stuff.
3. "Look, mom, no cavities!" I've never had a cavity. *knock on wood*
4. I LOVE BBC America programming. Seriously, everything from Extras, The Office, Gavin & Stacey, Coupling, to Torchwood, Doctor Who, and Primeval. However, I may walk around with an accent for a while saying things like, "That's immense!" "Tidy, " and "Brilliant!"
5. I LOVE the holidays--Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter--everything. Christmas is my absolute favorite--the music, the films, the decorations, and just that wonderful Christmassy feeling.
6. First date curse: I have one. It's like I have this incredible ability to make a complete and total a** out of myself on a first date, particularly if it's some fancy ordeal. Don't believe me? Let's look at an example: After being hit on in front of my date by our waiter, I nervously flailed my fork and sent a juicy piece of chicken to the floor. The splat sound was surprisingly loud...or maybe it just sounded that way to me becasue I was utterly mortified. The snickering around us was, however, quite loud. Later, while walking to his car, I slipped on some ice, sending us both to the cold, hard, snowy ground. I don't think he stopped laughing for a week, though he seriously wanted to go back and punch the waiter.
So, I absolutely INSIST on the first date being something low-key--I don't care if it's an arcade, a bowling alley, picking up some take-out and playing video games, or watching a movie--so long as it's a place where my idiocy will blend in when the first date curse kicks in. The absolute best place for me on a first date is probably a sporting event--what better place to blend in than with a bunch of fans, many of which are either partially clothed, wearing inexplicable costumes, or covered in body paint, screaming their fool heads off?
7. I LOVE to beat the system--to me, that means buying on sale. Yes, I'm a handbagaholic, but I have NEVER paid full price for my bags. Not once. I watch the sales carefully; I know when the luxury stores have their sales...I know when they add extra discounts and have free shipping. For me, it's a game that I have to win. I feel proud when I find a heck of a deal on something that was originally nearly double (or more) what I paid. Even if I had Paris Hilton's bank account, I would shop the sales. You never have to pay full price for fashion.
9 fellow bloggers:
1. A Real (Upstate) NY Housewife
2. Ms. Caboo
3. Aunt of 14
4. Deviled Megs
5. Jen
6. Just Another Avenue
7. Little Match Girl
8. An International Affair
9. Dusting Myself Off
Please feel free to do with the award what you like. I understand everyone has time constraints, so please don't feel that you have to pass it on--just do what you want. :)
What If Wednesday: "What If He's Dead?"
Great. Thanks. Yeah. "What if he's dead?" This was the ever-so-thoughtful musing of a rather lofty acquaintance. "Maybe your soul mate isn't even of this world. What then?"
I imagine the look on my face was something between dumbfounded and horrified. Now, I've joked about this before, mainly in the vein of that film, City of Angels, where Nick Cage (angel) falls in love with Meg Ryan (human)--beautiful and really, really depressing (you know if you've seen the film). So, yes, I've contemplated the idea, but it's always been fleeting at best and never really something I seriously considered...until Lofty Lee verbally vomited all over my chicken Cesar salad.
"Sooo, what if he's dead?" asked Lofty Lee.
She sure isn't giving this one up. "I really don't know. Maybe he'll come come back or reincarnate within someone else currently living. How's that?" I said, half joking, half ticked.
"Well, by the time he reincarnates, you'll be ancient, according to my beliefs on reincarnation," she said, far too seriously. Lofty Lee is very...literal...or scientific, take your pick.
"Ah, well, there you go then. I'll live a long, loveless life with nothing but my Marc Jacobs' bags to keep me company." This was my attempt to subtly end the conversation.
"Yes, speaking of those...don't you think they are a little overpriced?"
Well, isn't she a peach.
Did I mention she carries a Prada (not a knock-off)? Yeah.
I'm thinking she's trying to start a battle of the designer handbags. I decided to take the high road...sort-of.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "Do you happen to have change for a hundred?" I knew she would have to place her Prada on the table, out in the open.
"Of course," she said, digging through her Prada for her wallet.
"Really nice matching Prada bag and wallet," I said casually...and genuinely (they were gorgeous).
Her face turning a truly embarrassing shade of red, Lofty Lee coyly replied, "Oh, yes, thank you."
No one shames Marc Jacobs or my handbags...or suggests my soul mate might be dead.
I imagine the look on my face was something between dumbfounded and horrified. Now, I've joked about this before, mainly in the vein of that film, City of Angels, where Nick Cage (angel) falls in love with Meg Ryan (human)--beautiful and really, really depressing (you know if you've seen the film). So, yes, I've contemplated the idea, but it's always been fleeting at best and never really something I seriously considered...until Lofty Lee verbally vomited all over my chicken Cesar salad.
"Sooo, what if he's dead?" asked Lofty Lee.
She sure isn't giving this one up. "I really don't know. Maybe he'll come come back or reincarnate within someone else currently living. How's that?" I said, half joking, half ticked.
"Well, by the time he reincarnates, you'll be ancient, according to my beliefs on reincarnation," she said, far too seriously. Lofty Lee is very...literal...or scientific, take your pick.
"Ah, well, there you go then. I'll live a long, loveless life with nothing but my Marc Jacobs' bags to keep me company." This was my attempt to subtly end the conversation.
"Yes, speaking of those...don't you think they are a little overpriced?"
Well, isn't she a peach.
Did I mention she carries a Prada (not a knock-off)? Yeah.
I'm thinking she's trying to start a battle of the designer handbags. I decided to take the high road...sort-of.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "Do you happen to have change for a hundred?" I knew she would have to place her Prada on the table, out in the open.
"Of course," she said, digging through her Prada for her wallet.
"Really nice matching Prada bag and wallet," I said casually...and genuinely (they were gorgeous).
Her face turning a truly embarrassing shade of red, Lofty Lee coyly replied, "Oh, yes, thank you."
No one shames Marc Jacobs or my handbags...or suggests my soul mate might be dead.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
"Women Live In A Fantasy World"
Interesting. Bit chauvinistic. This came from a married man. His wife told me of their conversation.
Here's a recap of their conversation, as relayed to me:
Wife, while watching last night's game: "Ugh, I can barely look at Favre."
Husband: "Why?"
Wife: "Why?!?! Uh, because he possibly cheated on his wife! Because he might have sent pics of his penis to some cheap girl who posed for Playboy. Because he's MARRIED!"
Husband: "Oh, that."
Wife: "What, you don't think it's a big deal?"
Husband, shrugging shoulders: "Not really."
Wife: "You think it's okay to do those things to your wife...to break your vows?"
Husband: "He just sent some pics and tried to hook up. They didn't actually hook up."
Wife: "I see, so as long as he didn't screw her, it's okay to act like an immoral slime. No harm done, right?"
Husband: "He's a man. That's what men do."
Wife: "What if his wife had sent pics of her privates to some guy? What if she was caught trying to hook up with some men? Is that okay, then?"
Husband: "Absolutely not. Like I said, it's a guy thing. It's different for men."
Wife: "I see. Well, this is enlightening. Wish I had known you felt this way before we married."
Husband: "Movies."
Wife: "Beg your pardon?"
Husband: "Movies distort a woman's perspective on what real life is all about. It's not a fairytale. Men don't make these overly romantic statements of love or s*&^. Women live in a fantasy world."
Wife: "Frankly, dear, you men could learn a lot from watching one of those movies your despise so much."
Husband: "Why? What could I learn? It's all fake."
Wife: "It doesn't have to be IF men would watch and learn...you could make it a reality."
Husband: "Who would want to? It's more fun to watch you women prance around your fantasy world."
Nice, huh? This coming from a man (one of far too many, in my opinion, I have either known or heard about) who expects women to be hairless, but never shave; have a flawless face, yet not wear makeup; have a fabulous figure, yet not need to workout; look fabulous in clothes, but not spend money; have a healthy appetite, but never gain a pound. And WOMEN live in a fantasy world? Really?
Men like this winner could learn a great deal from a romantic film; his wife is absolutely right--men can make the romance a reality...all they have to do is try.
Personally, I think we should be entitled to watch a romantic film and hope there are actually men out there who would say, feel, and do the endearing little things portrayed on screen. How dang sad is it that men like "husband" want to make women feel like fools to even hope for the fairytale? Why is it such a stretch? I'm not settling. Why should I? Why should any of us?
I told "wife" that if she would like for me to talk with her husband about this, I'd be more than happy to; she laughed and said, "Oh, I would pay to see that! He wouldn't know how to handle you! I'd revel in it."
Stay tuned...
Here's a recap of their conversation, as relayed to me:
Wife, while watching last night's game: "Ugh, I can barely look at Favre."
Husband: "Why?"
Wife: "Why?!?! Uh, because he possibly cheated on his wife! Because he might have sent pics of his penis to some cheap girl who posed for Playboy. Because he's MARRIED!"
Husband: "Oh, that."
Wife: "What, you don't think it's a big deal?"
Husband, shrugging shoulders: "Not really."
Wife: "You think it's okay to do those things to your wife...to break your vows?"
Husband: "He just sent some pics and tried to hook up. They didn't actually hook up."
Wife: "I see, so as long as he didn't screw her, it's okay to act like an immoral slime. No harm done, right?"
Husband: "He's a man. That's what men do."
Wife: "What if his wife had sent pics of her privates to some guy? What if she was caught trying to hook up with some men? Is that okay, then?"
Husband: "Absolutely not. Like I said, it's a guy thing. It's different for men."
Wife: "I see. Well, this is enlightening. Wish I had known you felt this way before we married."
Husband: "Movies."
Wife: "Beg your pardon?"
Husband: "Movies distort a woman's perspective on what real life is all about. It's not a fairytale. Men don't make these overly romantic statements of love or s*&^. Women live in a fantasy world."
Wife: "Frankly, dear, you men could learn a lot from watching one of those movies your despise so much."
Husband: "Why? What could I learn? It's all fake."
Wife: "It doesn't have to be IF men would watch and learn...you could make it a reality."
Husband: "Who would want to? It's more fun to watch you women prance around your fantasy world."
Nice, huh? This coming from a man (one of far too many, in my opinion, I have either known or heard about) who expects women to be hairless, but never shave; have a flawless face, yet not wear makeup; have a fabulous figure, yet not need to workout; look fabulous in clothes, but not spend money; have a healthy appetite, but never gain a pound. And WOMEN live in a fantasy world? Really?
Men like this winner could learn a great deal from a romantic film; his wife is absolutely right--men can make the romance a reality...all they have to do is try.
Personally, I think we should be entitled to watch a romantic film and hope there are actually men out there who would say, feel, and do the endearing little things portrayed on screen. How dang sad is it that men like "husband" want to make women feel like fools to even hope for the fairytale? Why is it such a stretch? I'm not settling. Why should I? Why should any of us?
I told "wife" that if she would like for me to talk with her husband about this, I'd be more than happy to; she laughed and said, "Oh, I would pay to see that! He wouldn't know how to handle you! I'd revel in it."
Stay tuned...
Monday, October 11, 2010
NFL: Brett Favre Cries....With Teammates.
Tears. That's what they're saying. Brett Favre reportedly cried while surrounded by his teammates during a very emotional apology.
According to Pro Football Talk and Vikings kicker, Ryan Longwell, Brett is sorry for being a distraction.
"I need you guys to carry me tonight," Favre told the Vikings, according to Longwell. "I'm ready to go out there and give it my best, but I don't know what's going to happen."
Meanwhile, another woman has surfaced, alleging that Favre made passes (incomplete ones, from the sound of it).
As far as we know, Brett has neither confirmed, nor denied any of the allegations. Did you know his wife very nearly kicked him to the curb over his antics with other women in the past? Deanna wrote about a particular instance in her book, Don't Bet Against Me: Beating the Odds Against Breast Cancer and Life. While Brett played for Green Bay, she recalled walking into the room and hearing Brett on the phone with a woman he had been calling. It was then she told him it was over; that she didn't deserve to be treated in this manner. Brett begged her not to go. It was the wife of Green Bay's QB coach that changed Deanna Favre's mind; she told Deanna, "Don't leave or Brett will end up killing himself."
Time will reveal all, I suppose. Wonder if he cried for his wife and children the way he cried for his teammates.
According to Pro Football Talk and Vikings kicker, Ryan Longwell, Brett is sorry for being a distraction.
"I need you guys to carry me tonight," Favre told the Vikings, according to Longwell. "I'm ready to go out there and give it my best, but I don't know what's going to happen."
Meanwhile, another woman has surfaced, alleging that Favre made passes (incomplete ones, from the sound of it).
As far as we know, Brett has neither confirmed, nor denied any of the allegations. Did you know his wife very nearly kicked him to the curb over his antics with other women in the past? Deanna wrote about a particular instance in her book, Don't Bet Against Me: Beating the Odds Against Breast Cancer and Life. While Brett played for Green Bay, she recalled walking into the room and hearing Brett on the phone with a woman he had been calling. It was then she told him it was over; that she didn't deserve to be treated in this manner. Brett begged her not to go. It was the wife of Green Bay's QB coach that changed Deanna Favre's mind; she told Deanna, "Don't leave or Brett will end up killing himself."
Time will reveal all, I suppose. Wonder if he cried for his wife and children the way he cried for his teammates.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Rant FOR Dale Earnhardt Jr....last rant of the night...promise...
Today was Dale's 36th birthday, which they reminded us throughout the race. That fact was particularly difficult given the day he had. I felt so dang bad for him--when you have your teammates running first, second, third, and you're running a lap down, well, wouldn't that tick the holy heck out of you?
He doesn't deserve to have crap cars every week; he shouldn't have to run back in the back...he's too good for that--and, yes, dear naysayers, he is too good for that. His CC made a questionable call, but that is neither here nor there at this point, since it's week after week of the same thing. How the man is keeping his composure with media and reporters is beyond me, but it speaks volumes to his character.
Let's hope things get better for him. Something's gotta give.
He doesn't deserve to have crap cars every week; he shouldn't have to run back in the back...he's too good for that--and, yes, dear naysayers, he is too good for that. His CC made a questionable call, but that is neither here nor there at this point, since it's week after week of the same thing. How the man is keeping his composure with media and reporters is beyond me, but it speaks volumes to his character.
Let's hope things get better for him. Something's gotta give.
Rant On The Cowboys...yeah, I'm on a roll tonight....sorry
In case you couldn't tell by my *slight* need to rant, my Dallas Cowboys lost...again...after a bye week. Inexcusable.
Here's my short list:
1. Penalties--ridiculous, repetitive, inexcusable penalties.
2. Lack of discipline--let's face it, with Jimmy Johnson as the head coach, those penalties would never happen...or they would happen once and never again. I love Wade--he's a tremendous person, but the Cowboys need a Jimmy-type coach. Bill Cowher? Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking--that will never happen with Jerry Jones still needing control.
3. Predictable Offense--It's never good when you can call the play from your couch before it happens. What do you think the defense is thinking? I'm guessing they're laughing.
4. Good on paper QB--All the headlines will be how Tony Romo passed for over 400 yards. I could care less. Let me repeat: I DON'T CARE ABOUT STATS!!! If the stats don't translate into wins, then they mean less than nothing. Romo has better stats than Troy Aikman? Romo has beaten Aikman's records? Yeah, well, Troy brought home THREE super bowls. THREE!!! Romo can scarcely bring home a playoff win. **I should add that an ineffective offensive line is part to blame...Romo hit the ground more times than I can count.
We are 1-3 and at the bottom of the NFC East. Sad. Very, very sad.
Here's my short list:
1. Penalties--ridiculous, repetitive, inexcusable penalties.
2. Lack of discipline--let's face it, with Jimmy Johnson as the head coach, those penalties would never happen...or they would happen once and never again. I love Wade--he's a tremendous person, but the Cowboys need a Jimmy-type coach. Bill Cowher? Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking--that will never happen with Jerry Jones still needing control.
3. Predictable Offense--It's never good when you can call the play from your couch before it happens. What do you think the defense is thinking? I'm guessing they're laughing.
4. Good on paper QB--All the headlines will be how Tony Romo passed for over 400 yards. I could care less. Let me repeat: I DON'T CARE ABOUT STATS!!! If the stats don't translate into wins, then they mean less than nothing. Romo has better stats than Troy Aikman? Romo has beaten Aikman's records? Yeah, well, Troy brought home THREE super bowls. THREE!!! Romo can scarcely bring home a playoff win. **I should add that an ineffective offensive line is part to blame...Romo hit the ground more times than I can count.
We are 1-3 and at the bottom of the NFC East. Sad. Very, very sad.
Rant On Cheating
This whole Brett Favre thing seems to be spiraling, with more and more coming out by the minute. You can bet there is more to come with the Vikings playing the Jets tomorrow night. I hope he didn't do it, but I will not be surprised if he did. How sad is that, really? How sad and pathetic that as a woman living in this day and time, I would not be surprised if a human being touted as a family man, loving husband, and undeniable football icon is shown to have been cheating (or attempting to cheat) all along? When did this happen? When did cheating become something so common, so out there, that it fails to shock anyone anymore?
Yes, I know cheating has been around since the beginning of time, and I know both men and women cheat--I'm not that naive. I've known both men and women who cheat. Here's a little rundown of what I learned from them:
***NOTE: I understand everyone has their own story when it comes to the topic of cheating...I'm just sharin' what I've witnessed***
1. The men felt guilty once they were caught, not before.
2. The women felt guilty immediately after their first encounter.
3. One woman in particular (single) fell in love with the prototypical "unhappily married man who is leaving his wife for her." Do I need to tell you how that ended? Not happily for any of the parties.
4. Single men who cheat are often thought of as "studs" or "players," glorified by their posse.
5. Married men who cheat are often thought of as the victim--the wife isn't treating him right, he's miserable and sad, it's not his fault.
6. Single women who sleep around or cheat are thought of as "whores" or "sluts."
7. Married women who cheat are thought of as the villain...and "whores" or "sluts."
Tiger Woods cheats with a bevy of women; he claims sexual addiction and goes to rehab. I called it from the moment the second mistress surfaced. So many people came out of the woodwork saying things like, "Leave him alone, he needs help!" "As long as he can play golf, what does it matter?" "He is really sorry for what he did, leave him alone." Um, he was sorry...AFTER he was caught!
So, I had to pose the question: "If it had been a married celebrity woman who did all the same things as Tiger and she claimed sexual addiction, what would you say?" The responses were hilariously pathetic: "I think it's tougher for men. Women should know better." "She's a wife and mother...she should be at home with her kids, not screwing around." "She's a slut." "Sex addiction for a woman? Are you kidding? hahahahaha."
Here's the thing: Why are men the victims and women the villains? Why label either party as sluts, whores, studs, or players? Cheating is cheating. What's the need for labels? What's the need to try and justify or excuse cheating?
1. "I was drunk."
2. "It just happened."
First, you make the decision to drink, just like you make the decision to cheat. If you got drunk with some random girl (or guy), that was your CHOICE.
Second, floods just happen, tornadoes just happen, lightening just happens; unzipping and part placement? Yeah, those things don't just happen--they are CHOICES.
If you chose to cheat, so be it--it is your choice to live with, but don't insult the ones you hurt by trying to excuse or even justify your decision (Jesse James? Tiger Woods?)...be accountable and accept the consequences of your actions. In other words, deal with it. I know several women and men (both the cheaters and the cheated-on) who look back on certain situations and say the same: "If only I had been accountable for my actions." "If only he had been accountable." If only...
There, I'm done now. Feelin' better.
Yes, I know cheating has been around since the beginning of time, and I know both men and women cheat--I'm not that naive. I've known both men and women who cheat. Here's a little rundown of what I learned from them:
***NOTE: I understand everyone has their own story when it comes to the topic of cheating...I'm just sharin' what I've witnessed***
1. The men felt guilty once they were caught, not before.
2. The women felt guilty immediately after their first encounter.
3. One woman in particular (single) fell in love with the prototypical "unhappily married man who is leaving his wife for her." Do I need to tell you how that ended? Not happily for any of the parties.
4. Single men who cheat are often thought of as "studs" or "players," glorified by their posse.
5. Married men who cheat are often thought of as the victim--the wife isn't treating him right, he's miserable and sad, it's not his fault.
6. Single women who sleep around or cheat are thought of as "whores" or "sluts."
7. Married women who cheat are thought of as the villain...and "whores" or "sluts."
Tiger Woods cheats with a bevy of women; he claims sexual addiction and goes to rehab. I called it from the moment the second mistress surfaced. So many people came out of the woodwork saying things like, "Leave him alone, he needs help!" "As long as he can play golf, what does it matter?" "He is really sorry for what he did, leave him alone." Um, he was sorry...AFTER he was caught!
So, I had to pose the question: "If it had been a married celebrity woman who did all the same things as Tiger and she claimed sexual addiction, what would you say?" The responses were hilariously pathetic: "I think it's tougher for men. Women should know better." "She's a wife and mother...she should be at home with her kids, not screwing around." "She's a slut." "Sex addiction for a woman? Are you kidding? hahahahaha."
Here's the thing: Why are men the victims and women the villains? Why label either party as sluts, whores, studs, or players? Cheating is cheating. What's the need for labels? What's the need to try and justify or excuse cheating?
1. "I was drunk."
2. "It just happened."
First, you make the decision to drink, just like you make the decision to cheat. If you got drunk with some random girl (or guy), that was your CHOICE.
Second, floods just happen, tornadoes just happen, lightening just happens; unzipping and part placement? Yeah, those things don't just happen--they are CHOICES.
If you chose to cheat, so be it--it is your choice to live with, but don't insult the ones you hurt by trying to excuse or even justify your decision (Jesse James? Tiger Woods?)...be accountable and accept the consequences of your actions. In other words, deal with it. I know several women and men (both the cheaters and the cheated-on) who look back on certain situations and say the same: "If only I had been accountable for my actions." "If only he had been accountable." If only...
There, I'm done now. Feelin' better.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Another One Bites The Dust (Potentially): Brett Favre--Sexting?
You know it had to happen. Another supposedly happily married man, football icon, father, and grandfather, allegedly tried to get freaky with someone other than his wife. Shock (sense the sarcasm?).
Brett Favre allegedly sent pictures of his privates, along with some text messages and voicemails to a young woman he wanted to hook up with. I'm not about to post the link here, but you can visit Deadspin for the disgusting details.
His wife is beautiful. His wife has been there to support him through everything. His wife is a breast cancer survivor.
Tell me, how does she deserve this, if the allegations are true? She doesn't. No woman does.
It's times like these when I have to wonder if a man can be loyal to one woman. From Tiger Woods to Jesse James, I will NEVER understand the necessity for these men to take the dog for a walk, if you know what I mean. And, in some cases, have you seen the quality of women they hook up with? Eww. They can't compare to their wives on any level...not even close.
I'm not changing my decision to stay who I am, but I can't honestly say that stories such as this one don't chip away at me little by little. This is not easy, my friends...not easy at all.
Brett Favre allegedly sent pictures of his privates, along with some text messages and voicemails to a young woman he wanted to hook up with. I'm not about to post the link here, but you can visit Deadspin for the disgusting details.
His wife is beautiful. His wife has been there to support him through everything. His wife is a breast cancer survivor.
Tell me, how does she deserve this, if the allegations are true? She doesn't. No woman does.
It's times like these when I have to wonder if a man can be loyal to one woman. From Tiger Woods to Jesse James, I will NEVER understand the necessity for these men to take the dog for a walk, if you know what I mean. And, in some cases, have you seen the quality of women they hook up with? Eww. They can't compare to their wives on any level...not even close.
I'm not changing my decision to stay who I am, but I can't honestly say that stories such as this one don't chip away at me little by little. This is not easy, my friends...not easy at all.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Why Wednesday: Why Not Sell Your Virginity?
Me: "What part of 'waiting for love' are you missing, here?"
Friend: "I know, I know, but I'm just saying...you could do pretty well selling it, probably."
Me: "You're seriously making my hair hurt."
Friend: "You know Millionaire Man? He would've kept you, probably. He wanted to buy you stuff, take you places. He would've been good, too...you know what I mean. He'd know what he was doing, no question. He so wanted you. I would've been all over that."
Me: "Exactly what I've waited my whole life to be--a kept woman."
Friend: "I'm just saying it's an option."
Me: "No, darlin', it's not an option for me."
Friend: "I'd want to sell it."
Me, laughing: "Well, that's you...not me."
Friend: "I know, I know...you damn angel."
She meant well, I'm sure, but to me, selling my virginity is akin to prostitution. Not much difference there, at least not to me: money for sex. It would go completely against my beliefs, my desires, my dreams...everything. I've read the articles about some women here in the US and in Europe offering their virginity to the highest bidder. Bidding for one very public virgin reached $3.7 million, supposedly.
Call me crazy if you like, but no amount of money is worth compromising my soul. To each his/her own, but I don't put a price on the person I am; I don't put a price on my heart. That's just me.
Friend: "I know, I know, but I'm just saying...you could do pretty well selling it, probably."
Me: "You're seriously making my hair hurt."
Friend: "You know Millionaire Man? He would've kept you, probably. He wanted to buy you stuff, take you places. He would've been good, too...you know what I mean. He'd know what he was doing, no question. He so wanted you. I would've been all over that."
Me: "Exactly what I've waited my whole life to be--a kept woman."
Friend: "I'm just saying it's an option."
Me: "No, darlin', it's not an option for me."
Friend: "I'd want to sell it."
Me, laughing: "Well, that's you...not me."
Friend: "I know, I know...you damn angel."
She meant well, I'm sure, but to me, selling my virginity is akin to prostitution. Not much difference there, at least not to me: money for sex. It would go completely against my beliefs, my desires, my dreams...everything. I've read the articles about some women here in the US and in Europe offering their virginity to the highest bidder. Bidding for one very public virgin reached $3.7 million, supposedly.
Call me crazy if you like, but no amount of money is worth compromising my soul. To each his/her own, but I don't put a price on the person I am; I don't put a price on my heart. That's just me.
Surprise, Surprise--Spitzer's Show Sputters
Well, apparently we're not the only ones who were appalled by the idea of Eliot Spitzer getting his own talk show.
The ratings were not good in comparison to rival news networks.
Critics openly roasted the show:
New York Post--"freak show unbearable to watch;"
The Guardian--"wretchedly unwatchable;"
Baltimore Sun--"a load of obnoxious, self-important noise." (see link below for further information)
Had I been in Parker's shoes (unfortunate for her having to sit opposite him)--and had it been a live show--I would have ignored the teleprompter, ignored the script, and kicked off the show with a simple question to Mr. Spitzer: "If I may, why do you think, after disgracing your family, your state, and yourself, you deserve to be sitting where you are tonight...on this program, giving advice and commentary...on this station? Just curious..."
Bet that would have ignited something...
Anyway, take a look here, if you want to read about the train wreck that is the Parker/Spitzer show:
Spitzer's Show Sputters
The ratings were not good in comparison to rival news networks.
Critics openly roasted the show:
New York Post--"freak show unbearable to watch;"
The Guardian--"wretchedly unwatchable;"
Baltimore Sun--"a load of obnoxious, self-important noise." (see link below for further information)
Had I been in Parker's shoes (unfortunate for her having to sit opposite him)--and had it been a live show--I would have ignored the teleprompter, ignored the script, and kicked off the show with a simple question to Mr. Spitzer: "If I may, why do you think, after disgracing your family, your state, and yourself, you deserve to be sitting where you are tonight...on this program, giving advice and commentary...on this station? Just curious..."
Bet that would have ignited something...
Anyway, take a look here, if you want to read about the train wreck that is the Parker/Spitzer show:
Spitzer's Show Sputters
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
One Problem With Being A Virgin...
...some days are tougher than others, hormonally speaking. Take a virgin, add an overcast day, a sprinkling of rain, a dash of hormonally charged music, and...virgin gotta have it.
**And yes, that is his wife in the video. Lucky b*&^%
**And yes, that is his wife in the video. Lucky b*&^%
Monday, October 4, 2010
I REALLY Don't Get It--Eliot Spitzer ,The T.V. Host (you don't have to pay) & Snooki, The Author
Eliot Spitzer: Disgraced governor of New York; forced resignation after being caught with prostitutes; used an unbelievable amount of money on such activities; cheated on his wife, broke her heart; ruined his political career; oozes everything unethical, immoral, and just plain eww. CNN, however, has decided to give this "upstanding" man a talk show, co-anchoring with a conservative WOMAN.
What kind of message does this send to children? To women? To his family? That you can engage in illegal activities, pay a woman to have sex with you, lie, break your family, disgrace your state and yourself, and find yourself rewarded with a talk show on one of the most upstanding news stations on the air???? Please, spare me the whole "it's his private life and it's none of our business." It most certainly is our business when the man is in the public eye, representing New York State, and possibly using funds to buy himself pleasure. Now, I know he is not the first, and I dare say he won't be the last, to engage in this kind of activity, but to AWARD him with a TALK SHOW ON CNN?!?!?!?!?!!?
Some say they don't care as long as he presents his facts accurately. Well, ya should care. You should. If this is the absolute best we can do as a society, then we've got some problems.
I don't get it. Really, really don't get it. What the he*& is happening here, folks?
Oh, yeah, and Simon & Schuster has signed Snooki (circa MTV's Jersey Shore...you know, the one who gets drunk and pukes, gets arrested, etc) to write a novel about a girl trying to find love on the Shore. Apparently, they think it's a great idea to have her write a fun novel that teens and young adults would want to read. Way to go.
Maybe I am naive, but.....I. Don't. Get. It.
What kind of message does this send to children? To women? To his family? That you can engage in illegal activities, pay a woman to have sex with you, lie, break your family, disgrace your state and yourself, and find yourself rewarded with a talk show on one of the most upstanding news stations on the air???? Please, spare me the whole "it's his private life and it's none of our business." It most certainly is our business when the man is in the public eye, representing New York State, and possibly using funds to buy himself pleasure. Now, I know he is not the first, and I dare say he won't be the last, to engage in this kind of activity, but to AWARD him with a TALK SHOW ON CNN?!?!?!?!?!!?
Some say they don't care as long as he presents his facts accurately. Well, ya should care. You should. If this is the absolute best we can do as a society, then we've got some problems.
I don't get it. Really, really don't get it. What the he*& is happening here, folks?
Oh, yeah, and Simon & Schuster has signed Snooki (circa MTV's Jersey Shore...you know, the one who gets drunk and pukes, gets arrested, etc) to write a novel about a girl trying to find love on the Shore. Apparently, they think it's a great idea to have her write a fun novel that teens and young adults would want to read. Way to go.
Maybe I am naive, but.....I. Don't. Get. It.
Makeup Magic Monday: Sephora By O.P.I. Nail Polish Drying Drops
Along with Urban Decay's Potion Primer, this would have to be in my arsenal of top secret makeup tricks. Remember the days of having to wait for your nails to dry? FORGET THEM. I'm way too excited to reveal this one...Sephora By O.P.I. Nail Polish Drying Drops are a little bit of heaven in a bottle. (If you've tried this, you know why I call it heaven).
Simply apply your bottom coat, then your color, then your *optional* top coat; wait for approximately 60 seconds; apply one to two drops of the nail Polish Drying Drops and...presto!!! Nails will be dry to the touch in one minutes and completely dry in five minutes!!!!!!!!!!!!! This stuff works. I try to give it a little longer, just as a precaution, although it's probably not necessary.
As an added bonus, these drops have Vitamin E and jojoba oil to keep nails conditioned. A little goes a long way--I've had my small bottle for about a year now.
If you are sick and tired of waiting on your nails to dry, grab a bottle of this Harry Potter-potion-esque magic today. $14; available at Sephora.
Simply apply your bottom coat, then your color, then your *optional* top coat; wait for approximately 60 seconds; apply one to two drops of the nail Polish Drying Drops and...presto!!! Nails will be dry to the touch in one minutes and completely dry in five minutes!!!!!!!!!!!!! This stuff works. I try to give it a little longer, just as a precaution, although it's probably not necessary.
As an added bonus, these drops have Vitamin E and jojoba oil to keep nails conditioned. A little goes a long way--I've had my small bottle for about a year now.
If you are sick and tired of waiting on your nails to dry, grab a bottle of this Harry Potter-potion-esque magic today. $14; available at Sephora.
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