Those of you who have been reading my blog for the last few months (Bless you. Your share of my lottery winnings are in the mail) know that I love Hollywood. It’s fun, silly, and just weird enough to make me feel normal. A recent issue of Star Magazine (yes, I subscribe…don’t judge), featured an […]
When Kenny and I “re-met” at our 25th high school reunion, we had both been married before and were children of reasonably large, blended families, which simply means that we were both well versed in the different communication styles of men and women. At the risk of generalizing (and offending people who don’t speak in […]
Enjoying the warmer temperatures and anticipating upcoming spring weather, I took a look at my all-black closet and decided to go do some spring shopping for a little color. My plans took a slight shift when Kenny announced he’d like to join me, but then I envisioned a few new purchases, with a stop for […]
Working in women’s retail for 2+ decades, I’ve learned a lot about our gender. When men shop for clothes, they tend to hold the item in question up, give it a quick, cursory glance, and grunt “Looks good. I’ll take it.” 3 older brothers, 2 dads, and a couple of husbands, and I’ve yet to […]
Holy crap. Apparently there’s a woman who just gave birth to her 15th surrogate baby. SERIOUSLY?? During my seemingly 3-year-long pregnancy with Jake, I gained 65 pounds (count ’em… Sixty. Five.) I wasn’t too worried about it at the time, because I assumed I would have a 65-pound baby and fit back into my pre-pregnancy […]
Up past my usual 8:30 bedtime one night and, like a 3-year-old who gets to stay up late with the big people, I thought I’d check out what goes on in cyberspace after 10:00. Five minutes online, and struck gold.
Apparently there’s a new facebook app called the “Social Media Sobriety Test,” designed to help prevent regrettable, late-night, drunken posts to spouses (“Babe, SO sorry I slept with your sister. I was drunk and thought she was you”), employers (“Didn’t like my presentation, jackass?? I QUIT”), ex-lovers (“Pleeeez take me back. Sob. I’m just a pathetic loser without you”), friends (“Seriously, dude, you REALLY don’t know your wife is sleeping with your best friend?? Everyone else does”), or family members (“Yeah, you just THINK mom loves you best. She gave me a thousand bucks for my birthday last year. What did she give YOU?”)
Once installed, whenever you try to post after 10 p.m., it automatically opens a quick test (you have to type in the alphabet BACKWARDS, which I can’t do sober, so yeah, I’m screwed). If you fail, you can’t log in. But just to make sure the entire universe knows your every move, it then UPDATES YOUR STATUS to say “(Your name) can’t post tonight because he/she is intoxicated.” Awesome. (At this point, if you’re at a bar and any of your facebook friends are local police officers, I wouldn’t try to drive home, since you just publicly outed your current condition. “Yeah, I’m drunk, and yep, I’m driving home now.”) So this amazing app saves relationships and jobs, AND reduces DUI convictions. And best of all, it’s FREE!
But since I’m a social media junkie (show me a blogger who isn’t, and I’ll show you a writer that writes to hear herself speak), I had to pass on anything that threatens to kick me offline, so I moved on to late-night shopping. Settling in with a glass of wine (since I’m neither posting on facebook or driving), I booted up a search for something fun and girly to buy. Having more luck than I usually experience with lottery tickets or blackjack, I quickly struck gold for the second time that night. Up popped a photo, with accompanying link, to the BOSOM MAX.
Pink (of course), frilly, and cut down to there
I have a theory about cooking. Despite what many people (particularly those who cook) claim, it’s NOT simply a matter of “following the directions.” Even the most rudimentary recipes love to toss around cooking terms that non-cooks struggle with. What exactly is a “pinch” of something? Would that be like a tiny, baby cheek pinch, or a big ‘ol butt-grabbing pinch? And how much of something is a “smidgen?” Or a “scoach?” And every recipe includes at least one instruction to “sprinkle to taste.” How the hell would I know unless I lick the bowl as I go?? Of course, if you DO get actual measurements, they’re often flexible. This doesn’t work for us. “One-half to one tablespoon” just makes non-cooks crazy. Which is it, dammit? One half tablespoon or one tablespoon?? It’s your recipe. You tell me.
One year, Kenny made the unfortunate choice to get me some huge binder called “The Joy of Cooking.” (Yeah, like he got lucky THAT night.) Every recipe called for more ingredients than I have in my house in an entire year, and after the third try of a ridiculously complicated side dish (got all the way to the bottom, and it read “Pour sauce over top before serving. For sauce recipe, see page 322.” SERIOUSLY??), I frisbee’d the stupid book out my back patio door and onto the soccer field next door. Poor thing got run over by a large rider mower and has now gone to confetti heaven, where it belongs.
When I was in my late 40s, I decided to get my breasts lifted. I didn’t want them bigger. Just higher. Back up where the good Lord put them before gravity and age began to coax them closer to my naval than my clavicles. There’s just something about looking in the mirror every morning to […]
During my childhood, my parents started getting senior discounts at restaurants and retail stores when they turned 50. That was considered the start of the “Golden Years,” making them eligible for the Honor Menu and special coupons or daily deals (“Seniors, Get 10% off every Tuesday!”) At 10, this made sense, because 50-year-old people were, […]
Most people, when asked, can tell you quickly whether they are city mice or country mice. My sister loves New York, with the lights, the energy, the theater, the shopping, the dining, and everything associated with sophisticated, urban living. I would rather live on an isolated Kansas wheat farm than spend a weekend in NY. […]