Monday, May 30, 2011
Oh Abercrombie...You're Getting a Bad Reputation About Your "Padded" Bikinis For Kids. I Feel Your Pain...I Feel Your Pain...
Oh darn you, Abercrombie & Fitch...you've gone and marketed an entire swim suit line this summer to children that involves "padded" bikini tops. How dare you. Kids don't have boobies--or if they do, don't you know that we all like our kids boobies poking though their thin, lycra bikini tops so everyone can point and laugh? How dare you. (and I'm kidding)
WAKE UP, AMERICA. I'm a fairly conservative mom. I'm saying that, yet I still vote on the democratic ticket (but I'm a fence-sitter on most issues). Why are we all freaking out about Abercrombie marketing "padded" swim suit tops to kids? In the words of Inigo Montoya from "The Princess Bride"--"Let me splain...No...let me sum up" (insert the following line of, "Buttercup is marry Humperdink in a little less than half an hour"). HELLO PEOPLE. Let me tell you why Abercrombie has an entire line of padded swim suits for children this summer...
Has anyone realized what is happening with our children these days? Childhood obesity is through the roof. There are a fair number of young children tipping the scales at well over 100 lbs these days. Unfortunately with weight, comes boobs. And it's not just about childhood obesity--I have an 8.5 year old who has no fat on her whatsoever, she is over 5 feet tall, and she is already developing breasts and making a B-line into womanhood (and don't even think of giving me crap about it--I fed her "organic" EVERYTHING and she is skinny as a bean pole). Times are changing--and whether or not we like to actually "acknowledge" the changes as parent, I tell you what--I'd rather have an 8 year old running around in a "padded" bikini top from Abercrombie, than an 8 year old with boobs running around in a thin, lycra/spandex top that shows everybody her "turkeys are done" because her boobs are poking out and saying, "HELLO" to the world in the cold pool water.
PA--leeeez...the reason Abercrombie developed these tops is still left to debate. I'm pretty certain it's to cater to the actual "reasonable" needs of today's kids rather than to give the neighborhood pedophile a sneak peek at children's "goodies" at the pool--or to project kids as "sexy" before their time. I just bought my 8.5 year old daughter 4 padded bras today so she can avoid embarrassing herself in her tank tops this summer. It is what it is, people. Time to get real and learn how to deal with it.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
"Everything's Not-So-Fine Down Here In Lunch Lady Land": With Three Days Left In The School Year, The Mystery As To Where My Children's Lunch Money Has Gone All Year Has Finally Been Solved
School is officially out next Tuesday. I feel like I've been going crazy all year trying to figure out why I keep giving my children checks with rather large sums of money written on them and they keep coming home within a matter of weeks with sheets of paper in their Friday Folders showing a negative balance for their lunch money. Where is all my money going? It clearly states on the school website that hot lunch costs $2.00-2.50. I'm not a super stellar math genius, but I did pass Calculus II in college, and I know the simple things--like how to crunch numbers. WHAT THE CRAP IS HAPPENING TO ALL OF MY KID'S LUNCH MONEY???
I can hear the hecklers now: "Well, if you were a GOOD mother you would send your children to school with a healthy lunch that you packed yourself!" Well listen up here all you hypothetical heckler people, this mom USED to do exactly that. I would go out and purchase organic fruit, make sandwiches on whole grain bread, include organic fruit snacks, etc. And then something super awesome happened. Every day I would go to open my kid's lunch boxes to clean them out and find exactly what I had packed for them, completely intact, less one or two bites out of a sandwich, and a warm, floppy piece of organic, spoiled fruit. And to boot I would have children who looked all floppy and miserable because they hadn't eaten anything all day. Some people might be saying, "Well if they get hungry enough, they will eat it!"--which is not the case with my children. I happen to have two of the most stubborn twins on the planet. I also am not aiming to be contacted by the Childhood Anorexia Society because my children refuse to eat what I make for them. I finally threw my hands up in the air, and threw all my organic reject fruit into the garbage bin, and decided that my children were now going to be "hot lunch" kids.
One of the moms was joking around with me after school one day about hot lunch. She said, "Do you remember when we were kids--only the poor people bought hot lunch! Now it's the "cool" thing to do!" All I could think was, "Why is that? Has school lunch actually become good?" I looked at the menu online of what they offered the children to eat for hot lunch. It didn't look super fantastic, but it didn't look like they would be dumpster diving or eating from soup kitchen options, either. They even have options now where you can go online and put money into your child's hot lunch account and check their balance. It's crazy how advanced these hot lunches have become. On with the story...
I sent a check to school with my children for $100 last month for hot lunch. "Let's see...$100; 2 children's hot lunches; 21 days in the month to buy hot lunch in April--well that should nearly get me through until the end of the month. At $2.50/lunch that should be 40 lunches." **insert visual of me opening my children's Friday Folder on April 15th and pulling out a sheet of paper that states, "Dear Ms. Madison--your children have a negative balance of $4.25/each. Please provide funds to credit their hot lunch account." WHAT? Wait a minute. What is going on here? Where did my money go? This has officially become known as, "The Hot Lunch Mystery"...
So my children hopped into the backseat of my car the other day and Emma pulls a bag of Chocolate Chortles and a Gatorade from her backpack. I said to her, "Emma, where did you get that?" She told me, "For lunch today." Hmmmm. I don't remember seeing that on the monthly menu posted online. I'll have to look into this...
Do you remember what school lunch used to look like when you were a kid? I certainly remember our "hot lunch". We had plastic trays that were divided into sections--like a TV dinner. Each section would be filled with food as the tray got passed down the "lunch lady line". Each lunch lady was armed with a long, stainless steel spoon and a hair net, and would plop whatever portion of the meal she happened to be serving into the appropriate section of the plate. Then there was a crate full of milk over to the side, so after you got your tray of food, you stopped by the milk crate, hand the cashier a prepaid lunch ticket that looked like it came out of a ski ball machine at the arcade, and then it was off to sit down at the long lunch tables and eat. I only had hot lunch a couple of times while I was growing up. My mom would pack our lunches everyday, which sounds like a good thing, but she was going through rice cake and peanut butter phase for years that wasn't pretty.
Fast forward to this morning: Emma was beside herself today because she said they had "closed the snack shop" for the year and now she had no way of getting her daily snack at school. "WHAT? What daily snack? What snack shop?" OMG...they have a snack shop at their school. Not only have my girls been purchasing "snacks" every day, but it turns out, after further research, that the $2.50 for the school lunch?--that only includes their main portion and one side dish. Then they have a plethora of options for drinks (Gatorade, bottled water, milk, juice, probably Red Bull and Rock Star, too), and they have supplemental options for dessert or other "crap" that you can throw in on top of your main dish--like Cheetos, Chortles, and Funyuns for an extra charge.
NO WONDER OUR CHILD OBESITY IS THROUGH THE FLIPPIN' ROOF! Hot lunch has become a scoop of prepared food and a visit to the vending machine! Not to mention all the additional charges that came with it! By the time my children purchased their "hot lunch" and their "daily snack" I would imagine I was spending well over $5.00/day/per kid on this junk food! THAT'S WHERE ALL MY CHILDREN'S LUNCH MONEY IS GOING!
Do you ever wonder what else is going on at your kids school that you don't know about? Good Lord. I feel like I've been bamboozled. All this time I've been wondering about "evaporating lunch money" and I've even put in calls to the guy who runs the lunch program at school to troubleshoot how my children could develop a negative balance on their lunch funds so quickly--and every time I call he acts like I'm the biggest idiot on earth and provides me with zero information as to where my money has gone. Maybe I should get on board with the PTA and institute a "Bring Your Mother To School Day" so I have some idea of what is happening during those six hours a day my children aren't in my home.
No wonder hot lunch has become the "cool thing to do". It's like shopping at a 7-11--and costs about as much, too! SHEESH!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
You Got To Know When To Hold 'Em, Know When to Fold 'Em, Know When To Walk Away, And Know When To Run: A Blog About When Friendship Heads South, and Staying True To Yourself
Some of you may remember my blog that I posted titled, "Ahhhhhh Facebook--Without You I'd Probably Just Have A Normal, Boring Social Life". In that post I had written about how I had actually either "friended" or had been "friended" by a few people on Facebook in an attempt to get to know my boyfriend's family and friends from 3,000 miles away. This worked out well for a little while. I felt like I got to know some things about them from long distance that I never would've known otherwise (did I mention I'm in a long distance relationship?...because I am). I also found out that they are very decent people. We don't have a whole lot in common, but I always enjoyed their posts, and pictures, witty comments, etc.
"Well where is the problem??? Sounds like a GREAT way to meet people, get to know them, and forge friendships!" Oh contraire (whoever you are talking to me like you're not me talking here)!!! I suppose it would be a great way to start new friendships, assuming I didn't feel like I had to filter every single thing I was thinking and feeling in order to impress them, or to simply not offend them. I felt like I had to be on my best behavior all the time. I liken it to Princess Kate. Can you imagine what it must be like to be her? To have to be at the top of your game all the time so you never look bad? I'm sure she had tripped, stubbed her toe in front of the Queen Mum at some point and said in her mind, "OH "F"!!!...that hurt!!" but she couldn't say it. Or that little peck of a kiss she gave William on their wedding day so as not to offend the masses and give them anything to talk about in the tabloids. This is exactly how I was feeling with my "game face" on and having Tristan's friends and family watching me from 3,000 miles away on a social website. I just wanted to be myself--and I felt like I had to be perfect.
Shall I bust out in song now? "I want to be me! I just have to be me!!!" *twirl*spin*stag's leap* You're welcome.
I tend to be highly opinionated, and I generally like to speak my mind. When the "mute" button gets hit I don't feel so great about things. I've been "muted" for a long time in an effort to get to know people in Tristan's life. The fact that his friends and his family are important to him make them important to me. I just don't know how to mesh the people in his life into my life and into my relationship at times. It gets frustrating. It's not always a good fit.
I remember getting on Facebook one day and having an entire conversation about my old engagement ring from Tiffany & CO with one of my friends who I grew up with. Because I had "friended" people who I didn't know on Facebook I immediately got the "inbox" messages, like, Do you think by posting all this about your ring that your boyfriend will get the hint?" What hint? Did I?...I just missed something. How did this become a "hint" supposedly directed at him? Not the case. Goodness knows that I'm super outspoken. If I want to give my boyfriend a hint about things I'll just let it fly right out of my mouth and smack him upside the head--true "Whitney Style". I don't need a "Facebook Liaison" to do it. So NO...I was not "hinting" that I wanted my boyfriend to propose to me because I was talking about my love for my old engagement ring with my friend on Facebook. This is the same engagement ring I had just written about in my "Hey Little Girl--You Want Some Champagne" post. The one I recently had re-sized into a right hand ring because I adore it THAT much. This is just one example of how it can get uncomfortable with people "watching" you and trying to get to know you through a social website. It doesn't work very well.
There is a lot to be said for staying true to yourself. Whether it be about a job, a friendship, or a relationship, it is important to be truly genuine. That may ruffle some feathers along the way, but staying true to yourself does have benefits. The peace of mind that comes with knowing you don't have to be someone you are not makes it all worth it.
This girl will be "kickin' it old school" from now on when it comes to "meeting the friends and the family" in my relationship. I'm switching back to the good old days of snail mail and seeing people on vacations. I'll be like the Stealth Bomber and "fly under the radar" from 3,000 miles away. I think Taio Cruz said it best when he said, "I want to celebrate and live my life, singing Ay-o, baby let's go..."
You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to run. Thank you, Kenny Rogers. That's good advice.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Whether you're a church-goin' person or not, we've all heard the "commandment", "Love thy neighbor as thyself." Some of us are better at this than others. Some of us probably care a ton and have a cup of sugar waiting by the front door on the off chance that a neighbor will need to borrow it. Some of us absolutely suck at loving our neighbors. A lot of us probably don't even know who our neighbors are. Other could simply care less.
You don't have to be Christian to have a desire and need to "want" to help others. There's a component to simply being human in most of us that enables us to outwardly express kindness and compassion toward others. Perhaps there is a genetic component as well. Some of us got the "good neighboring genes" and some of us got the "bad neighboring genes"--and some of us probably have a combo of both the good and the bad--the "mediocre neighboring genes".
"Ok, Whitney, why are you being all warm, fuzzy, and serious with us--did you just get out of church or something." Why yes, I did! Thanks for asking. But that's not why I'm writing this. And don't worry--in true Whitney form I will be back to writing about my more "typical" blog topics like Brazilian waxing and fantastic footwear after I get my point across with this. Also, in case you were concerned--I'll be questioning myself more than pointing the finger at any of you in this blog--it will be like I'm roasting myself and you can kick back with some popcorn and watch. Good times...
I have neighbors. I have no idea who they are, but they pass by me on a fairly regular basis considering the close proximity of their home to mine. I can't tell you their names. I know one of them likes mountain biking, and drives a Mini Cooper. I think he also smokes weed from time to time because I live downwind from him and I like sitting on my balcony where there have been a few times I was certain I had achieved a contact high. I have another guy who lives on the other side of me. He is out of town a lot so I rarely see him. He rides a motorcycle and throws loud parties when he does come back into town. I've met both of my neighbors a few times. They seem pretty nice. I think they told me their name once, but I'm not that good with names so I promptly forgot them.
Neighbors aren't really just the people who live close to you. I think the commandment should be re-written as, "Love All Those Other People You Bump Into On a Daily Basis As You Love Yourself". A "neighbor" could be someone you hold the door for at a store, a car you help to push when it runs out of gas, or picking up a pacifier for a family who has a baby who dropped it on the floor. You know--typical, run-of-the-mill, warm, fuzzy stuff that you can do for people each day. Some of you might be saying, "Duh Whitney, I've been doing kind things like this for people on a regular basis since I was knee high to a grasshopper. PS This blog is boring the crap out of me." And I get that. But have you ever taken time out for a moment to reflect on some of the opportunities that you had to be "neighborly" and you dropped the ball on them? I'm talking about those moments where you think, "Meh...somebody else can do it this time--I'll get the next one."
I have had some of those moments recently. Even before I went to church today I have been struggling to deal with an opportunity that I think I completely overlooked--a chance that I had to be helpful but chose to look the other way. Some of you may have seen my blog about my shopping trip to Nordstrom this week. Although it was fabulous, and wonderful to see my friend and shop with my family, something happened in that store that has made me sad all week. I don't know if it's because I felt sorry for this person, or if it's because I could've helped them and instead I ignored them, or maybe both.
I went to the loo in Nordstrom. I heard someone enter the stall next to me very rapidly, and within about 2 seconds there was a flood of urine running down her legs into a puddle on the floor. I
happened to peer over at the floor in her stall to see her shoes were covered, and I could hear she was frantically pulling TP off the roll and trying to clean everything up, including trying to pull enough wads of toilet paper off to absorb the puddle she had made. At first I was like, "OMG...what the heck? That's disgusting!" And then I just stood there for a minute, collecting my things, and for a moment I tried to imagine what that woman must have been feeling; how embarrassed she must have been; how sad she probably was to have lost control over her body like that; how panicked she must have been to get the mess cleaned up so nobody would see it. I felt bad. Not only did I feel bad for thinking she was disgusting at first, but I felt bad because I should've wanted to help her from the start...and I didn't. After I did decide that maybe I would try to do something, I realized I didn't know what to do. I thought about maybe asking if she needed anything. I'm a nurse, and I thought, "If this happened to a patient at work I would certainly help them and put new clothing on them." But I was not at work. I stood there in my bathroom stall completely perplexed for a moment."What can I do? Should I do anything? If I ask her if she needs help is that just going to embarrass her more? Should I ask her if she needs a new pair of pants or underwear so she can make it out to her car at least? I could go buy her some if she needed them--? But then I would have to worry about where to buy them, and what size she is and...that's it--I'm just going to go wash my hands and get out of here now."
I opted out. It's been bothering me all week. What if she really did need help and I just looked the other way? I was probably the only person in the bathroom who knew what had just happened to this poor woman and I chose to pretend I didn't see it at all. I've had a couple of days to reflect upon the situation now and it makes me sick to my stomach. Where was my compassion? Where was my sympathy? Why didn't offer to help her? I have a job as a nurse where I help people in these types of situations all the time and think nothing of it, only now that I was at Nordstrom it became "disgusting"??? I was really disappointed with myself. It's one of those, "Hindsight is 20/20" moments and if I could do it over again I would do it differently. I would've offered to do something.
I go to church on a regular basis, but I certainly have my shortcomings. I like it when people "practice what they preach" but I suck at this sometimes. At times I'm great at it, and other times...not so much. I don't look at myself with a "holier than thou" perspective. I'm keenly aware that I have opportunities placed before me in my life, on a fairly regular basis, that I could be more "Christlike" with, yet I consciously choose to do things "my way" instead. For example: I recently had to bid farewell to a friend of mine. I adored her, but she started dating a guy I absolutely did not approve of. I still don't approve of him--only now she's engaged to him. At first when she started telling me about him I was brutally honest with her--so much so that I could tell by what she was texting back to me that I was really hurting her with my words. However, I thought it was so important to get my point across to her that I continued to say them anyway. I know that the "right thing" to do is to get over my opinion and be happy for her. But I can't. I have this overwhelming gut feeling that this guy is not a good person for her, so rather than being a good, supportive friend I have completely cut her out of my life. So much so that I recently heard some details about her upcoming wedding and I stopped the person telling me and said, "I don't care, so please just stop right there." And it's true--I really don't care. I care about my friend, but I can't get over how I feel about her relationship so she is now out of my life. And the truly sad part is that it will likely stay this way because it is not humanly possible for me to muster up any feelings of happiness for her. What's the opposite of a warm fuzzy feeling?...because that's what I feel about this situation.
"How's that Christlike thing workin' for ya, Neighbor?" Not so well at times, thank you very much, Mr. Non-Existent Heckler Person.
These are just two examples of recent opportunities I have had to be more "neighborly" and helpful with people. Two instances that I completely crapped up by being a crappy person in these situations. It's not reasonable to expect that we are all going to be at the top of our game all the time when it comes to helping others. I talk a lot at times about this life being a "process of refinement", and learning to become a better person every single day. I will always likely fall short of perfection with this. I don't know how to be at the top of my game all the time with "loving my neighbor". Heck, I don't even know how to care about my friend whose fiance I can't handle. But knowing, and learning from each and every circumstance I go through in my life is hopefully going to lead to me doing things better and better the next time, and the next, and the next.
Whether it be Karma, or Christ, or Jelly Beans that you believe in, there will always be need, and there will always be opportunities to interject and be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. Can you imagine what our world would look like if we all started to try to be more helpful to one another? I may not be able to fix the circumstances that I failed in my past, However, I will continue to strive for improvement. In other words, I'll give it the old college try. How bad could it be??? ;)
Friday, May 20, 2011
"Hey Little Girl, You Want Some Champagne???": How I Was Lured Into Michael Kors And Hoodwinked Into Buying Amazing Footwear
I went to lunch with my best friend, my sister, and my daughter today at the Norstrom Bistro. After we finished lunch we decided to go down to the shoe department to oogle, drool over, and molest most of the shoe merchandise. I actually found an amazing pair of Prada heels for a mere $1150. Such a great deal--it was hard to keep me from running straight to the cash register (and I'm lying--I find it odd that a pair of shoes can equal the monthly car payment of two BMWs...it's a tad excessive). We oogled, drooled, and molested shoes. Then we oogled, drooled and molested some more shoes. I was proud of us though--nobody tried on or purchased a single pair. We were being so responsible--I almost didn't recognize us.
Then it was off to Tiffany & CO. I am divorced, and my beautiful Tiffany solitaire platinum engagement ring has been tucked away for nearly three years now. I love that ring. It's absolutely gorgeous. I think my ring loves me, too. I don't think it was ready to get divorced because it knew it was going to be locked away in some kind of reject platinum prison as punishment. Sometimes I think I hear it whimpering and crying to me at night because it's lonely (No I don't--it's just a story--I know rings don't talk. "Yes they do." No they don't. "Yours does." No it doesn't. Shhhhh. People are going to think you're crazy. "Really? Hmmm."). So yes, went to Tiff's sent my lovely beauty off to be resized into a right hand ring. In two weeks I will be able to wear it and feel complete again. I bid audieu to the Platinum Police security guards that arm the doors at Tiffany & Company in their dapper suits with little satin hankies tucked into the breast pocket. I actually like those guys. A nice change from the metal detectors and actual policeman that they have at, take for instance, Marshall's Department Store. Maybe the next time I see them I'll ask them to please pin a satin hanky to their police badge and then maybe I'll consider shopping there. I digress...
Then it was off to Tommy Bahama. It was a quick tropical getaway in that store, and it smelled abso-freakin'-loutely delicious in there. Pinapple, coconut, and hibiscus scents from candles and oils all wafting through the air. All that was missing was a pina colada, woven seagrass terrace furniture, and tiki lights. I would've camped out for a while--assuming I didn't have to pick up the twins from school...which I did have to so it was on to another store!!!
**The clouds parted**The angels started singing**A light shown down upon THE MICHAEL KORS STORE**: You guessed it. Michael Kors--the mecca for a boatload of beautiful accessories. It happens to be my sister's favorite store, so naturally, being the loving sister that she is, it's only fair if she lures me in and makes me spend a bunch of money in there, too. Frivolousness love company, right? So in we go--and a repeat oogling of amazing footwear begins. The guys who work at the store were joking around with us and then said, "It's beautiful day! Perfect for a mimosa or champagne! Would you care for a glass?" My sister and I looked at one another and were like, "Is he kidding?...because he said the "C" word to us and we take that very seriously." He was not kidding. He lined up 6 beautiful pairs of shoes for me to try on and as I was sitting there trying to decide which pair I wanted to try on first, his coworker came out from the back with two flutes of champagne and handed them to me and to my sister. He also brought a glass of spring water out to my oldest daughter. It was AMAZING! She even said, "Mom...when I turn 21 can we come here to buy shoes and sip champagne? I've always dreamed of shopping like that." To which I replied, "Absolutely."
O-M-G...the only thing better than trying on amazing shoes is trying on amazing shoes while simultaneously sipping champagne!!! I had tried on three pair and had approximately half the glass of champagne consumed when I decided to try on the black, leather, peep toe, stiletto that you can reference in the photograph above. As I was trying them on I started to feel a little "bubbly" from the champagne and looked at the salesman and said, "You do realize that you are giving me champagne and I'm trying on a six inch heel that is going to throw my balance off--isn't that a liability?" He laughed and I teetered over to the mirror and was like, "SHA-BAM!!!! These things are fabulous!!! I'll take them!!!"
As he finished ringing me up I saw my total on the little credit card pad in front of me and was waiting for the line with the X to pop up so I could sign my name. He was like, "Uh, ma'am, you have to swipe your card first." Sure enough, I looked down and I had my card just lying there on the counter. I started to laugh and said, "Listen here, Mr.--don't feed me champagne and then expect that I'm actually going to just KNOW how these things work." Apparently my "blondeness" goes off the chart when enhanced with champagne.
So, yes--I ended up with a pair of shoes that I had absolutely no intention of buying today and I blame it all on my sister, Michael Kors, my parents for not teaching me proper "stranger danger" for people over the age of 21, and the two champagne pushers disguised as shoe salesmen at the Michael Kors store. I done got hoodwinked. But they are FaBuLoUs!!!! *SHRUG*
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Waxing. All the cool kids are doing it. I'm talking about bikini waxing, to be more specific. I've always been a meticulous shaver and I've owned the entire line of Venus razors *insert Bananarama song here*. I hadn't thought much about waxing until one day while sipping wine and sharing girl talk with one of my best friends she stated, "Oh Whit! You have to try it!!!" and then she followed it up with, "Once you start, you'll never be able to stop--it's addicting!!!"
I was skeptical, but decided to go ahead try it anyway. It didn't sound all that thrilling to me, and as a matter of fact, the anticipation of A.) being naked in front of random waxing strangers, and B.) getting every hair in my southern region ripped off my body was a lot to handle at first. As a matter of fact, the very first waxing studio I ever went to had a huge bowl of Wint-O-Green Life Savers in the lobby/waiting area and I was pretty sure it was a metaphor of what I was going to need once they got me back behind closed doors. They came out and called my name in the lobby. I took a deep breath, blew it out through pursed lips and thought, "Here goes nothing!". What I should've thought was, "Here goes everything..." because that's exactly what I was paying them to do--TAKE IT ALL OFF, BABY!!!
I've been through three waxing studios up to this point. Not because they all sucked and left me with a bad hairdo or anything. It's simply that Brazilian bikini waxing can be expensive and if you've read my other blogs on extreme couponing or getting high-end fashion on a dime you know that I am someone who likes to get a good deal when I can.
The first studio I went to was great. Really friendly gals--which was good, because it's important to feel comfortable when you are naked around strangers. We'd talk about my job...*RIP!*. We'd talk about my boyfriend...*RIP!*. We'd talk about the weather...*RIP!* Although chatting is a great deterrent, it feels a little strange to be having a conversation with people when they are spelunking in your private parts, applying hot wax to your groin and ripping it off. Anyway, they were really good at this studio, but they were pricey and a long drive from my house so I decided to find another studio closer to home.
The second studio I went to was great, too. I actually had a gal who used to wax movie stars and snooty falooty people in Beverly Hills. She was amazing, and super meticulous. So meticulous in fact that I would have to close my eyes and go to my happy place to pretend what was happening to me wasn't really happening to me. I actually got the "hot sugar" wax at this studio. Instead of pasting the hot purplish/blue wax on with the tongue depressors, they grab this giant glob of what looks like clear snot and start rubbing it on you and then *RIP!!!!* "EEeeeeeeeP!!!" I think it hurts worse than the wax--though many disagree with me on this. Anyway, that wasn't why I'd have to close my eyes and go to my happy place. It was because at the end of the sugar waxing she would get some tweezers and get within about an inch of me with her face and start finding any little straggler hairs that were clinging on for dear life and start tweezing them out one by one. I was bald as a billiard ball by the time Ms. Beverly Hills got done with me. Painful? Yes. Worth it? Yes. Did it freak me out to lay there and have her so close I could feel her breath on me? YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!!!! That studio was also more expensive than the first, and though it was closer to my home the increased cost just wasn't worth it to me anymore.
On to studio number three! I had been at work last week and a gal there had recommended this waxing studio that happens to be close to my home and they had AMAZING prices. Unheard of in my experience with Brazilians thus far. I went today and had a gal who had that fire red colored hair that Rihanna decided to make popular recently--you know...the one that looks like you're wearing a Ronald McDonald wig? Yeah, that one. She also had a tongue piercing which gave her a self-inflicted speech impediment so it made it pretty funny to listen to her explain things as she walked me through the procedure ("Now you thee, I'm going to be waxthing you here and then pull thith back. Any quethtons?). The waxing on the front side went fine. Then it was time for the backside. "BACKSIDE, WHITNEY?...what do you mean, BACKSIDE???" I mean that these folks don't leave a single hair on your body and so once you get done with the fun of the FRONTSIDE you get to flip over and have some more fun on the BACKSIDE. I hate this part of the Brazilian. I love the results but the only thing more intimidating than getting naked and lying in front of strangers facing upward is getting naked and lying on your stomach in front of strangers with your backside in someone's face. I must say though, lying on my backside at Studio #3 is way better than what they asked me to do at Studio #2. When it was time to do the backside at Studio #2 the gal asked, while I was lying face up, to grab behind both my knees, pull them up into the air, and roll them back up by my ears. My jaw dropped to the floor. I was like, "Come again say what? You want me to do WHAT?" Yeah--wasn't going to happen. I told her that I didn't feel comfortable going all "Cirque de Soleil" for my waxing so she let me lie down on my side instead. Probably not as great a job as could've been done had I stuck everything God gave me up in the air, but at least I still had my dignity. Back to Studio #3 and my backside--so yes, she had me lie face down and then asked me if I would "help" by grabbing my backside so she could focus on her wax application. I had to go to my happy place again and pretend that I was in Maui instead of lying there with my booty in someone's face and groping myself to boot. I felt her apply the wax. Then I was like, "What? What is she?...Is she?...She's fanning me. She's fanning my butt to get the wax to dry more quickly. O-M-G." Yes, I Whitney, got my butt fanned today. Ugh. And then of course came the *RIP!!!* Yee-haw, sisters. Yee-haw.
So yes, through the ripping, and the pulling, and the "YIPES" and the "EEeeeePs!!!" comes the Thrill of Brazil. I keep going back. Why? Because they are addicting. Once you've had the freedom from the razor and not having to worry about anything down in that region as far as grooming goes it's all worth it.
"Why Whitney--why on earth would you talk about this on your blog???" Because not only am I a big fan of Brazilians, but people often times are curious about them and like to hear it from someone who has actually been through one. And I thought it was funny. And I figured if Oprah could talk about things like Massengill on her show and people still liked her, then I could talk about getting a hoo ha wax on my blog and people would still like me. What can I say--I'm a risk taker. ;)
Monday, May 16, 2011
I walked into my favorite little liquor shop this evening and, as luck would have it, they are in the middle of expanding. Not knowing this was going to happen, I walked in and had my, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore" moment when I was jolted back to reality by my favorite champagne "dealer" high-fiving me and yelling, "HEY!!!! HOW'S MY FAVORITE CHAMPAGNE FRIDAY GIRL??? Where ya been? I have been looking for you on Fridays and I've missed you the last couple!" I explained to him that now because of work circumstances that this week it was Champagne Monday. I must say--I felt a little bit like Norm in Cheers. It was pretty funny. :) (And NO---my champagne dealer is not the same guy as my merlot dealer...you know, the one who likely thinks I'm an idiot for exploding an entire bottle of merlot by leaving it in the freezer last week? Yeah...not that guy. I actually buy my merlot at a different shop that has better prices on that specific brand.)
So, yes...I will be sipping my Lunetta Prosecco and relaxing this evening. I have to prepare for tomorrow. I have an entire day planned that should hypothetically make me super beautiful by the end of the day. We shall see. If not, well then it might have to be Champagne Tuesday this week, too. And I'm kidding. ;)
Summertime, Summertime, Sum-Sum-Summertime: Time For A Little Summer Fun (I know it's not "summer" yet, but it's been raining for days so I'm going to warm up with a summer blog)
SUMMER: That magical time of year when we all get to warm up and start wearing clothing that doesn't make us look like woolly mammoths. I was not ready for last summer to end, so you can only imagine how excited I am for this summer to begin. It will be a matter of weeks until I plan on being poolside on a daily basis and until I have a herd of wet, bikini and swim short-laden teenagers and kids running through my house--AND I LOVE EVERY MINUTE OF IT. Now if it would just quit raining, we'd be in good shape.
What fun would Blah-dee Blah Blah Blah-dee Blah Blah Blog be if I didn't give some fun pictorials of summer fun and popular gardening decorations? (this is where you say, "Why absolutely no fun at all, Whitney!!!" and this is where I say, "Well alrighty then!")
The lawn gnome--apparently popular enough to make an entire movie revolving around this little character. I happen to be a big fan of them--though please don't mistake this "love" as meaning I'm actually an owner of such a thing. Not the case. However, I do enjoy all the different versions of lawn gnomes available--and here is why...
Lawn gnomes come in all sorts of fun configurations. Take Marty McBootycheeks here. He is showing us his fuzzy butt while simultaneously defying the laws of gravity right next to the petunia bed. He does have rather large feet. You know what they say about men with big feet, right? "Big feet...Big Beard."
(see--get your mind out of the gutter)
This is one of my faves--the sexy pose is almost too much--and he's smoking a pipe so it must have been good. Only question is--did he remove his tight leather vest and red cap for the action? I think we should name him, "Sven". Sven Higalo Lawn Gnome Gigolo .
This lawn gnome is obviously married...or at the very least, engaged. Either that or he held up the Quick-E-Mart for a 5-hour Energy drink and a box of Runts.
Oh my. Cover your eyes kids. This garden gnome has me perplexed. The lower half looks like a guy, and then the face looks like a chick with a beard. Apparently He/She is enjoying the lily pad though. And the red banana hammock is the bomb (or is it a clam hammock...the world may never know).
"Heidi Ho, Floppy!!!! AWAY!!!!" I actually have a friend who has a rabbit infestation in their neighborhood right now. Their neighbors were out "cleaning up the evidence" from offing some of these poor little bunnies because they were eating their garden. I should call PETA and stage an intervention or else all the lawn gnomes in that neighborhood are going to lose their mode of transportation.
Ugh...it's just not as hot when it's human.
Apparently lawn gnomes have a temperamental side to them and the flamingos are the ones picking up the tab for it.
And apparently a very psychotic and violent side to them. Can you imagine the photographer who actually staged this photo? I can picture his wife coming into the kitchen and saying, "Now Martin, why on earth are you shoving my good steak knives into my lawn flamingos?" I like how the head is just lying there. Looks like a pink version of the "Aflac" duck.
I like this one. I might get one when I move to Maui. Every lawn shark needs a good home.
Mmmmmm. Can you imagine going shopping for this? I can just picture walking up to the kid in the orange vest at Home Depot and saying, "Um, can you tell me what aisle you carry the ceramic nose-picking gargoyles in? B-5? Sweet!" I must say, he does look pretty excited about spelunking in his nostrils. He's roto rootering out his garden boogers. Silly gargoyle--that's what garden weasels are for.
Awwww....I get to kiss him first! Back off, ladies!!!
I like this guy, but he keeps smoking all my grass.
"And Bernadette and Harry could never figure out why the neighbors wouldn't come over for Barbecue Fridays on the terrace..." (Can I get a "What the crap is this?"...amen. I wonder where they disposed of the rest of the body once they took the teeth)
"Jim Bob, sweetie, would you go see what's making all that commotion out in the garden? It sounds like it's coming from somewhere between the mums and the rhododendrons."
THE GARDEN ZOMBIE--all the cool kids have one.
Bras...they're not just for holding the girls up anymore.
Awwww. Rex and Millie finally found good use for the toidies after their recent bathroom renovation. I hear they make their own fertilizer, too. Way to go green, Rex and Millie!
"Man down!" Make sure you are taking proper safety precautions this summer while out enjoying you activities. Once these kids actually opened their eyes I'm sure they were looking at each other like, "Where's mommy?"
"Ok, Tommy...now I believe you. It really does run away like a scared turtle when it gets cold!"
These little tikes are relaxing on the shore while mommy and daddy are off at their "Responsible Parenting 101" course. They came out with new literature for the course this year called, "How to Pickle Your Child's Liver Before the Age of 10".
Classy. The Thong Triplets were compensated for their modelling. They received a free lifetime's worth of Pez for their hard work.
I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that a man likely sculpted this.
Remember to throw caution to the wind as you enjoy your summer activities.
And to make sure your shorts aren't so tight that your belly jelly is flopping over the top.
And enjoy decorating your lawn and garden...
And do it up Jersey Style. Don't forget your SPF 45 though. There are no prizes for winning the Melanoma Olympics, ya hear?
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Aaaaahhhhhhhh Maui. Some of you know that I like it there. If you don't know me--I like it there. It is certainly my tropical getaway of choice. Some people are less picky--they like Chuckie Cheese or toe socks. I'm much higher maintenance. Go big or go home. I have vowed that someday I will be an island girl and take up residency there. I already have plans in the works to become a property developer on Maui and will be very happy living out the rest of my life in a bikini with SPF 45 on (because I am of Norwegian descent and burn crisp like a tater tot under a broiler without it). Every night at 8:00 pm I will likely be sipping on a pina colada, watching the moon over the ocean, and listening to the sound of waves gently crashing against the shore (sorry, Kenny Chesney--I know you sing, "It's Five O Clock Somewhere" but like I said, I'm high maintenance and I'm an 8 p.m. gal for my bevies). I have been looking forward to going back to Maui this summer. Tristan (my boyfriend) and I were planning a trip for July. It was going to be fabulous...*insert sound of record needle scratching across record*
Maui is not going to happen in July. I'm super bummed and have had a hard time the past couple days trying to wrap my head around this. Tristan lives in Alaska and is building a house up there. Anyone who knows anything about Alaska knows that there are only two seasons in that state, WINTER, and CONSTRUCTION SEASON. Unfortunately July happens to be smack-dab in the middle of the latter. So, yes--he is up against some deadlines to build before the flurries of 2011 start to fly again up there, and I am pouting from 3,000 miles away trying to figure out how to make myself feel better about all of this. As some of you may have seen in my Facebook status recently, he did offer for me to come up there and help him paint his new interior drywall (once it is actually up--it's a hypothetical at this point). I was less than thrilled with this idea--mostly because I really don't want to go to Alaska. Hawaii and Alaska are two opposite ends of the spectrum. It would be like somebody who thought they were going on a trip to Paris, only to find that they didn't win the big prize and that the consolation prize was an all expense paid trip to Paducah, Kentucky. Please don't get me wrong--I love Alaska. I recently almost moved back up there. It is beautiful...but it is frickin' freezing cold for 9 months out of the year and not that warm, and mosquito infested for all the rest of it. It is also just very different people-wise, too--I feel like I fit in there about 25% of the time, and the other 75% makes me feel like I'm being Punked on an episode of the Red Green Show.
Some might be saying, "But you have the chance to go up to Alaska!!!!" and you are right--it is kind of a nice idea. But the Alaska I go to is not the Alaska you see on the television or in the magazines when they are offering elaborate cruises and swanky stays at hunting lodges. My trips are nothing like that--and certainly not a super stellar consolation prize for not going to Maui while simultaneously using up 36 hours of my paid time off. Yes, I'm griping...thank you very much...
"What do you mean Alaska isn't like what we see in magazines?" I mean that I'm not going to be somewhere where I can walk out on a deck and see a pod or orcas, or in the middle of a quaint mountain town at a lodge that has the heads of 9,000 fuzzy animals nailed to the walls with a crackling fire and a bear skin rug in front of it. I go to the part that has an astronomically high ratio of people to Bubba teeth. Let me just clarify--there are a fair bit of what I would consider "normal" people there as well. I passed a girl in Fred Meyer (a grocery store) on my last trip to Palmer, Alaska, and she was decked to the nines and she came straight up to me (I was also decked in my normal girlie attire), she grabbed onto me like we were sisters and said, "OMG!!! I love your outfit!!!" and I was like, "OMG!!! I love yours, too!". We were so thrilled to find another person "like" ourselves up there--I felt like we were on one of those TV shows that reunites long lost family members. That's what happens when you're a fashionista caught in a sea of flannel and Carhartts--but there are some people up there who dress and act like seasoned lower 48ers (that would be the 48 states located geographically south and east of the state of Alaska). So nope, nope, nope...I'm going to be in the middle of Palmer and Wasilla, Alaska (the Valley)--a good 45-50 minutes from the nearest Nordstrom (yes...they do have Nordstom in Anchorage...they sell the highest amount of flannel miniskirts at that store per capita than anywhere else. And I'm kidding...Gucci doesn't make flannel...).
So yes...Maui is on the back burner for the next few months. It does appear I will probably be made to go kicking and screaming against my will up to Palmer to spend what should've been my Maui vacation of pina coladas, sand, and salty air. I will be rebelling and filling Tristan's house full of blow up palm trees, island music, and painting dry wall in my bikini. Good thing he put a large jacuzzi in his house so I can at least pretend I'm at the pool. I'm also planning on convincing him to forego some of his lighting plans and embrace the tiki lights--at least while I'm up there. It is frustrating though. Tristan has helped people build and build and build up there and now that he is building everyone has fallen off the face of the earth. Awesome how that works. I'm just tired of playing the, "Let's see how long it takes one man to build a house" from 3,000 miles away. It's not as much fun as it sounds...
Men are from Alaska (Mars), Women are from Hawaii (Venus)--Maui, Hawaii to be exact.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Say It Ain't So!!!! Princess BeatRice Is Auctioning Off Her Wedding Hat? Take A Number, People--There's Only One Uterus/Octopus/Fettuccini Hat...We Can't ALL Be Lucky Enough To Purchase It!!!
'Tis true, 'tis true--Princess BeatRice is auctioning off her hat from the Royal Wedding. With such a lovely chapeau, it is going to be really difficult for me not to book the next flight to the UK and beg her to give it to me before the auction is a done deal. I just recently cleaned out my closet and found out that I don't own one of these--AND IT'S A MUST-HAVE!!!
As you can clearly see from this picture, this hat (or shall we call it forehead-weigher-downer) is lovely. Some of the locals did shriek and start to make time because when Princess BeatRice's vehicle drove by they got confused and thought it was the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, but it just turned out to be BeatRice in a low clearance vehicle that couldn't accommodate the height of her hat so she had to tilt her head forward like that. She wasn't really charging at them. Silly commoners...
As a matter of fact, the hat was so fetching that everyone else had to get one, too. The way Pippa Middleton looks in this photo is absolutely breathtaking. I heard later from internal sources that she was beside herself that she hadn't thought to wear a similar hat to BeatRice's through the entire ceremony. She also had a giant foam finger that she had intended to wear that went by the wayside amidst all the wedding chaos. Quite a shame, really. It would've really stepped up her part in the whole "Royal Wedding" thing.
It turns out that BeatRice's hat has caught on quite well here in the U.S. as well. Most government officials have replaced "Hawaiian Shirt Friday" with "BeatRice Hat Friday". It's really breathed new life into our government, as well as provided unity among our Nation's leaders.
Some of the photographs from the wedding were amazing. Here is Princess BeatRice with her twin sister, Princess Medusa Mae. They looked stunning--and so happy. Part of the reason I want to purchase this hat so badly is due to the fact that I want to be THAT happy. Oh envy...You're killing me.
I truly believe, and know in my heart, that Princess BeatRice will look back at her decision to go with this hat and be super pleased with herself. The way the artist here has captured the very essence of BeatRice's beauty is unbelievable. I'm certain she will have this portrait enlarged and hung above her bed as a daily reminder of how she out-classed all the royals on "The Big Day".
There is just something about Princess BeatRice's head. Not only does it need to be adorned with over-the-top hats as was the case with the Royal Wedding, but she has a very ethereal vibe to her very nature. As you can see here, a drove of beautiful butterflies has stopped along their migratory pattern to feed on the beauty of Princess BeatRice. It's truly a beautiful sight to behold, and so rarely captured this well on camera.
Rumor has it that Princess BeatRice was feeling a bit left out on the day of the Royal Wedding (her mum and dad said that was the reason she had to go big with the hat--otherwise nobody would've recognized her and given her the proper attention she deserved). However, fear not...later that evening the princess actually received a proposal from the Royal Aquarium Octopus. He couldn't resist keeping his eyes and arm and arm and arm and arm and arm and arm and arm and arm off of her all night. It was all to do with the hat...
And last but not least--what I really think she will be feeling about 20 years from now. I know that we don't know one another, Princess BeatRice, but I'd like to place my bid for your wedding hat now. I have $1.50 in U.S. currency, 4 dried up gummy bears, 3 unused Qtips, a used nail file, 1/2 a bottle of Juicy Couture perfume, and a stick of gum. Did I win the hat? NO?????...bummer.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
"Pardon Me, Miss, But Would You Care For Chards Of Glass With Your Merlot Tonight?": Why Tired Blonde Girls Should Be Banned From The Freezer Sometimes
Setting the scene: I've been up since 4:30 a.m. and I worked 12.5 hours at the hospital. It was a busy day. Numerous times throughout the day I thought to myself, "Boy, it sure will be nice to kick up my feet and enjoy a glass of wine tonight". I was uber thrilled, too, because I had purchased a brand new, untapped bottle of merlot just last evening. I got home, removed my shiny, red "There's No Place Like Home, Auntie Em!" Dansko clogs from my feet, removed my jacket, and decided to open the freezer to start some dinner--and experienced a moment of horrible terror...
I don't like warm wine. I know some people are staunch believers that some wines need to be chilled and that others are delicious at room temperature. Inclined to formulate my own opinion, as I often am, I like them all chilled...but I don't own a wine fridge. Sometimes after I purchase a bottle of wine I will place it in my fridge to chill it--that is, assuming I have hours to achieve the correct temperature before consumption. Other times I will use my freezer to achieve "chilled" wine much quicker. This is all great, fine, and dandy and has saved me a ton of money that would've otherwise been spent on a wine fridge. However, it only works great if you REMEMBER THAT YOU PUT THE WINE IN THE FREEZER!!!! If you do not remember, and if you leave the wine for enough hours (or overnight as was the case with my most recent bottle of merlot), something quite scientific happens--THE LIQUID EXPANDS AS IT FREEZES AND THE WHOLE DANG BOTTLE EXPLODES!!! It's most unfortunate--especially when you've just gotten home from work and anticipate a lovely glass of wine, only to find it's a gigantic wine bottle shaped popsicle with chards of glass and a pathetic cork embedded in it in your freezer.
It would be nice if this was an isolated incident, but I've blown up a crap ton of beverages in my day by using my "fast chill" method of beverage cooling while simultaneously forgetting that I'm cooling the beverages. I've exploded Diet Pepsi, Miller Lite, Gatorade, bottles of water, and many many other things. I do have my moments of acting like I'm playing the leading actress in "50 First Dates". It usually sounds like this when I open my freezer and realize what I've done, "DOH!"; and then the next time, "DOH!"; and the next time, "DOH!" and the next time, "Sheeeeeee-oooooooot!" (see--you thought I was going to say, "DOH!" but I switch over to expletives if it's a really good beverage--like my beloved merlot)
So back to the liquor store I went tonight. I rarely, if ever, go two nights in a row unless I'm throwing a party. I told my sad story of exploding wine to the gentleman who owns the liquor shop and he about fell over laughing at me. Hopefully he wasn't just humoring me and thinking in the back of his mind, "Holy cow--what a raging alcoholic. Figures she'd use the "I left my wine in the freezer and it exploded" story!!!" cuz I'd be really bummed.
So yes, here I sit, blah-dee blah blah blogging away as my new bottle of wine is in the freezer chilling. NO, I did not clean out the frozen, exploded merlot and the chards of glass from my freezer yet. I'm tired. The odds of me pulling another blonde move, slicing my tired hand open on the glass, and having to make a trip to the emergency room for stitches is huge. I simply placed the new bottle in the freezer next to what was left of its exploded comrade and I'm just gonna let them reconnect spiritually for a little while until ideal temperature is achieved.
PS I'm pretty sure the guy at the liquor store was laughing so hard because he was thinking, "THIS IS AWESOME!!! I'll be rich if this idiot keeps this up!"
Sunday, May 8, 2011
I, Whitney _____________ (I never use my last name on my blog), have never EVER shopped with coupons. As a matter of fact, until today, I didn't even know where to get any (other the auto coupons that they spit out at me at the register at Super Target). Don't get me wrong--I love to save money. I will bargain hunt ANYTHING rather than pay full price. Some might have the misconception that since I totally dig high end fashion that I just throw my money at whatever tickles my fancy. OH CONTRAIRE--this fashionista can find deals like no other. Why I've never carried this "thriftyness" into my grocery shopping I DO NOT KNOW. I do look for deals on food--I don't just shop willy nilly for grocery items, either. I've just never thought about groceries hard enough to have a plan of attack for my grocery trip. I've periodically taken time out of my day to make a grocery list but I usually end up forgetting it at home or leaving it in the car and not realizing it until I'm already well into loading up my cart so I forget it altogether most days. BEHOLD THE NEW ERA OF WHITNEY GROCERY SHOPPING--starting today I'm a changed woman (for a little while at least--until the Whitney Experiment is over).
I bought the Sunday Post this morning. I was less-than-impressed with the very small amount of manufacturer's coupons it contained. I grabbed the circular from my favorite store, browsed for items I would need that were on sale, and then cut out coupons for the other things I would purchase. I grabbed my purse, my envelope full of coupons, my circular ad, a nice pair of 4 inch wedge strappy sandals (because as some of you saw from my "All Dressed Up With Somewhere To Go" blog--this girl hates grocery shopping, but if I can do it in a fabulous pair of shoes it makes it way more tolerable for me)--and off I went to the store.
As I made my way through the store I was trying to teach my children about items, prices, and applying coupons to those items. They seemed to get it. My trip was way more focused. I'm usually in and out of the store like the Tasmanian Devil, but I took a little more time today to make sure my items matched my coupons, etc. I purchased brands I had never tried before. This may be a good thing, or a bad thing--I'll let you know. For example: I am usually a toothpaste snob, but scored 5 tubes of toothpaste with a coupon and paid nearly the same price as one tube of my regular toothpaste. If I end up with Bubba teeth by the end of the next 6 months you will know why.
So then off to the register. All of my items were scanned and then I handed over my coupons. The twins watched as money started to come off my original total. By the time all was said and done---I saved approximately $17.00. Now, just so you know--I have no room to store items like the people in Extreme Couponing, and I'll be damned if I'm going to sleep with an entire shelf full of food next to my head or with 500 rolls of TP under my bed like some of the people in that show do because they have run out of space for all their food that they got on sale. The next series on TLC should be called, "Food Hoarding: Buried Alive" where they can combine their hoarding show with their couponing show since there are a lot of similarities between the people who "EXTREME stockpile" anything.
"$17.00...you just sucked minutes out of my life to read this stupid blog and you only saved $17.00?" Isn't it uncanny how I can read the minds of hecklers? ;) I may have only saved $17.00 today. However, it was my first day with the whole "coupon" thing so I think I will get better at it. Not only that, but I don't just look at it as $17.00. Multiply that by the 4.5 grocery trips I make on a monthly basis and it comes out to $76.50/month, which happens to be nothing to sneeze at in today's economy.
Stay tuned as I continue to try to drive down my grocery bill even further. I am a total novice right now, but I plan on getting much better as I go. I just hope I don't have Bubba teeth by the end of it because I only had coupons for Colgate instead of Crest. (Eeeeeek! There goes my Colgate endorsement. Don't give up on me yet, Colgate--I still haven't USED your toothpaste so it might actually blow the competition away!) ;)
Friday, May 6, 2011
Hi Ho The Dairy O The Cheese Stands Alone: A Little Blog about Being The Outsider In My Yoga Class Today
Ugh. It sucks to be the new kid in yoga class. If you saw my previous post from the first yoga class I ever attended you would understand that yoga makes me feel like a huge dork. I usually inhale when the yogi tells me to exhale, exhale when he tells me to inhale, and collapse from sheer exhaustion at least 5 times per class. Everyone else looks amazing--like delicate ballerinas. Then there's me. And to make it worse I have to stand in front of an entire wall of mirrors while I'm doing my poses. You think driver's license photos are bad--wait until you see Whitney in the yoga studio trying to do the "pigeon" pose. And don't even get me started on the "happy baby" pose. It makes me feel like a cheap hooker in a leotard inviting the entire universe to examine my hoo ha.
Today I had a yoga instructor I've never had before. A guy. A yoga guy? New concept for me. I showed up a couple of minutes late for class. Normally I try to be in the back of the class. This is so when somebody tells me to do the "reverse windmill into warrior pose" I can look at others and try to do what they are doing before I twist myself into a pretzel. DENIED. Apparently Fridays are busy days in Yoga Land. I got stuck up front like the nerdy kid in class. The nerdy kid who doesn't know how to do yoga. So NOW I have to look in the mirror to see what the people behind me are doing--which is great when you are trying to balance on one leg and reach your arms up to the sky. I felt like a Weeble--I was definitely wobbling BUT I DIDN'T FALL DOWN!
So then yogi homeboy had us all line up against the wall in the back of the studio. We were supposed to work on our handstand poses for the next 7 minutes. It was a sea of spandex and flying legs as all of my fellow yoga peeps began to invert themselves. There was no room left against the wall so I decided to forego my attempt at utter humiliation. The yoga instructor pointed out that there was a sliver of space in between two people and told me to "go for it". Instead I decided to sit on my mat. All alone. In the middle of the studio. No fellow yoga friends around me because they were all upside down on the wall. However, I avoided a lawsuit by choosing to be all by myself as I am sure I would've accidentally kicked the crap out of one of them with my serious lack of coordination combined with my 6.5 inches of space that I was allotted.
To make me feel like even more of a total loser, he then had us practice poses that involved one arm and the opposite leg--the other arm and leg lifted up off the mat and in the air. Ever try to hold a push-up pose with one arm and one leg? Man alive--I'm a huge wimp. I ate yoga mat a few times today. Magically delicious.
The moral of the story is I'm going back to my Wednesday yoga class. If I'm going to look like a dork then I want plenty of my own space in the back of the classroom to do it. Not only that, but the Wednesday girl doesn't make me stand on my head or break my nose by trying to be a one-armed, one-legged superhero.
I need some icy hot, a heating pad, and a sangria swirl margarita.
HOORAY!!! I found mom jeans in PINK! And I'm a bird! (with knee pads)
"Ok, Whitney--stop it. All you are doing is showing us old people in mom jeans. Not everybody looks bad in them." See...I knew you would be saying this so I included the "hot chick in mom jeans picture" just to prove to you that I am right, and you are wrong. Nobody...not even Kate Middleton or Cindy Crawford would look good in mom jeans. I must say--the suspenders add a nice touch. It only counts if you put novelty buttons on them though. She need at least 20 pieces of flair if she's going to pull this look off. She is also going to take a 5 point deduction for not making these pants come all the way up and over her belly button.
Oh dear heavenly lord. Ok, fine. Sometimes I'd rather people just put on the mom jeans. I didn't know Huggies came in plaid...
"Now as your mother, I propose that you wear the pant that acts as an underwire support system for your brazier. I think the more you can accentuate your hips and make them look like a denim pumpkin atop two sticks the better off you will be. Make sure that as the leg progresses down that the material becomes more slender and fitted toward your ankle. Then, and only then, can you claim to be in mom jeans." (that was supposed to be the picture talking--not me)
These are tough economic times. Even Jessica Simpson and Mischa Barton had to fire their stylists and start shopping at "That 70's Store". The pleats really add a little somethin' somethin' to Ms. Jessica, don't you think? (That's where she keeps her chapstick and banana Laffy Taffy. It's called a "roo pouch".)
That's right, sister...STRIKE A POSE! Not only do you have amazing taste in button-up jeans, but you picked the most fantastic floral, party mint colored top to go with. It's sheer perfection how the buttons on your shirt line up with the buttons on your pants. The only thing that would complete the outfit is a pair of shoulder pads, but hey...like Hannah Montana said, "nobody's perfect".
Yes Ma'am...welcome to Blah-dee Blah Blah Blah-dee Blah Blah Blog. The topic of the day is mom jeans. You're welcome.
I'm too sexy for my pants, too sexy for my pants, soooooo sexy yay-ahhhh
Token fuzzy kitten picture. (see...I show you horror pics and then fuzzy kittens...because I care)
They look even more delicious when paired with a dirty moccasin/modified cowboy loafer from Land's End.
**********AND FOR THE GRAND FINALE***********
Has it really come down to this, moms? The old saying goes that "Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it". Did we learn nothing from Mom Jeans? Here we go again, folks...