Monday, October 24, 2016

This Year's Hot New Fashion Trend

Forget about pencil skirts, boho chic and high waisted pants that brilliantly camouflage your muffin top.  Asymmetric necklines and androgyny are out this year.  No one cares about scarves or patterned hosiery.  This year it's all about something that French women have worn for years and never goes out of style.  Arrogance.

"The thing about arrogance is, it's not just about looking like a snob." Reports Arianna La Roche, owner of a beauty lounge in La Grange, Wyoming.  "That just scratches the surface.  Fashion has gone deeper.  It's more of a reflection of what's going on in our culture than it ever was."  And what's going on in our culture is an overbearing sense of superiority reigns supreme.  "Just look at Kanye West.  He's the embodiment of the arrogance trend."

But, you don't have to be a celebrity to pull this look off.  Trudy Roach, fashion blogger and part-time Walgreens clerk, explains. "It's an extremely budget friendly trend that everyone can afford. It's not about name brands anymore.  In fact, it doesn't matter what you wear.  You could wear a duvet cover like a toga.  I mean even though "duvet cover" screams the 90's.  No one cares."  Making this an extremely liberating time to be a fashionista,  like the 70's were for civil rights.  "Except, I can help you choose the right shade of foundation to complement your ego. I might even have a coupon and be able to check you out right at the cosmetics counter with no lines and no waiting.  Providing you with the red carpet service you're entitled to."

Another great thing about arrogance is that it's a real space saver.  Which is really important if you live in an metropolitan area which is typically short on closet space.  Because arrogance virtually doesn't require any room in your closet.  Which makes it pair really well the current tiny house movement.  It's also extremely eco-friendly.  "You don't have to worry that this trend will end up occupying space in a landfill near you when it goes out of fashion.  There's also no guilt associated with the use of fossil fuels to ship outdated trends overseas for people in need of clothing in underdeveloped countries."  Stated La Roche.

So, get out there and be condescending and presumptuous and look and feel great while saving your budget, the environment and the world all at the same time.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Indie Chick

I was indie way back when it was just called being a loner.  I always knew who I was, even when I didn't like who I was.  And I didn't for many years.  Because I never seemed to fit in anywhere.  And I still don't.  So, I just did my own thing.  Which is what I still do.

It's not easy being indie.  Staying true to yourself in a world that values selling out.  Where quantity has replaced quality.  Where who you know seems to be more important than who you are.  Where you are easily classified by your politics, religion, gender, looks, class and/or sexuality.

 This is the bullshit that we've bought into as a society.  

I'm not claiming that I'm above it all or that I have no implicit bias.  Because I'm not.  And I do.  We all do.  I'll admit right now that I think your fitbit is nothing more than a really expensive glorified pedometer.  And I will judge you if you're over the age of 25 and use Snapchat.  But, these thoughts are mine.  Not that of my group.  Because I don't have a group.  Because I'm GDI (Goddamn Independent).  Which when I transferred to the University of Alabama for my sophomore year meant you weren't in a sorority or fraternity.  I know this might come as a shock, but I wasn't.  I never understood why anyone would feel the need to pledge their devotion to a bunch of drunk girls (or guys) desperately seeking validation.

It's not that I don't want to be accepted.  I do.  I mean, I think it would be nice.  But, I don't need it. It's just that I don't want to be endorsed by association simply because I'm in the right group.  I don't want you to pretend to like me because someone else you like does.  Like it's some kind of a contractual obligation or popularity contest.  I don't want you to approve of me because of what you think I can do for you.  And god knows I don't want you to hate follow me.  You know like that facebook friend you love to hate.  I hate that!  At the end of the day, I'd much rather be respected than accepted.

To sum it up...
 I like myself so you don't have to.  

You're welcome.  I'm a giver like that.  I didn't get where I am by affiliation, kissing ass,  pretending to be something I'm not or cheating the system.  I got where I am by navigating my own path, believing in myself and making my own opportunities.  If I make anything I do look easy, it's because I work my damn ass off.  Because I am a one woman show.  And I do all of my own stunts.  It's all me.  No agent.  No publisher.  No publicist.  No safety net.  No regrets.

What I am is authentic.
And that's what being indie is all about.  

Monday, October 17, 2016

The Astronomical Rise of a New Religion

In a time when so many of us have lost faith, there is a new religion on the rise:  Asteroidology. It was founded by former agnostic, Nancy Bellvue, of Holyrood, Kansas in 2015. Downtrodden by the emotional and financial strain of a divorce, with a job as a bookkeeper she despised, combined with the atrocities of the world she had no control over, she searched for something to believe in. 

“That’s when I had an epiphany”, she said. “It’s as if the entire universe opened up to me and told me everything was going to be ok.”  Bellvue went on to say that Asteroidology is different from most other religions, more akin to Buddhism, in that it’s more of a philosophy with the goal to end human suffering and isn’t deity based.  “In an evermore bleak and depressing world, pain in unavoidable and people need something to believe in. Something to count on. Even atheists and agnostics. We don’t discriminate against non-theists. Asteroidology is all inclusive”, the founder explained.    

But, don’t go looking for a big fancy church, Asteroidologists gather for meetings at observatories nationwide on their sabbath; Tuesday evenings. (Which coincidentally is also kids eat for $2.99 at Golden Corral night where the pre-sabbath festivities begin.) At the meetings, they use information from NASA to track asteroids whose trajectories threaten to impact with Earth.  Then they pray for a collision that would result in the total annihilation of life as we know it and thus, resulting in the end of human suffering. 

Bob Frankenship, a devoted follower of Asteroidology for two months from Lakeland, Florida explains.  “There are so many asteroids that come as close as 275,000 miles from Earth. It’s much more common than people realize. Sooner or later, one of the rocks catapulting through space will be the chosen one. We of course, pray it’ll be sooner. To spare the world from things like hunger, disease, the end of oil and terrorism.  But also the lesser known evils of failing to plan for retirement, the confusing conversion to chip encoded credit cards, enduring small talk with Trader Joe’s employees and the results of the U.S. presidential election.”  

Devotees believe the outcome of an asteroid colliding with the Earth would be a swift, fairly painless humane death if you are within 100 to 200 miles from ground zero that is.  Also, if the asteroid is larger than a mile wide, which is big enough to wipe out life on the planet. It would of course be a prolonged demise caused by debris blocking the sun, the further one is from the impact site. It goes without saying that smaller asteroids would have less significant global results. Thus, have less merciful, magnanimous results on the end of humanity as a whole.  

Bellvue summed it up best.  “We just have to take it on faith that a really massive asteroid is sent our way from beyond at the end of times.  And soon.”

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Stair Master

When we moved into our house a little over 10 years ago, most of the house was wall to wall with off white shag carpet.  Even the bathrooms, which is a really gross Midwestern tradition.  Which with four kids, and not to be sexist, but especially two boys (really, think about how good a boy's aim is as a toddler) makes me want to vomit.  As did ripping out all the noxious dog pee stained carpets from the entire upstairs because our dogs would get really pissed off when we left the house.  Literally.  Now, only small sections of carpet remained in the boys' rooms and the stairs.  And it had to go.

One fun thing about me is after I procrastinate something for a really long time and then finally decide to do it, it instantly becomes an emergency.  And it must be attended to immediately.  To quote Chaucer, "Time and tide wait for no man."  I don't know exactly what that means, but I hope the tide part means my dogs are done pissing on my floors.  Because I'm the one who's been their bitch cleaning that shit up.  Oh, cause sometimes they shit on the floor too.

Kids and dogs are gross.

I called my husband at work.  "Can I rip out the carpet?"  Now, my husband is a very smart man; he knows that's not actually a question at all.  It means,  "heads up I'm going to rip out the carpet now".  And he also knows that he'll be fixing whatever I screw up, because he knows I'm truly gifted at screwing things up.  So, with a box cutter in one hand and a set of pliers to pull out the millions of staples used to affix the carpet to the sub floor, I was off.  But, I must confess, I'm always a bit off.

When all the carpet was finally gone, and only a heaping pile of dirt remained, it was time to fill all the holes left by the staples and then sand the stairs smooth.  And then paint.  Only to realize I did two coats of white paint that actually attracts my dog's black fur.  What was I thinking replacing white carpet for white paint, anyway?  So, I went back to the paint department at Home Depot yet again, where I'm pretty sure the paint guy thought I was really into him.  When I was really just into choosing the wrong paint.  Apparently.  Until I finally found, Mr. Right.  A high gloss paint with commitment issues, so it repelled dog fur.

Unfortunately, it doesn't repel shoe prints.  Or undecipherable blobs of food.  I mean, who eats on the stairs?  Ok, that was a stupid question.  Teenagers do.  Because they eat everywhere.  Do you know what else teenagers do?  They go down the stairs with purpose.  And by that I don't mean they go down to retrieve their pile of laundry I've folded for them to put in their dresser.  I mean, they put all of their body weight into essentially a fast and furious pseudo-controlled fall down the stairs that sounds a lot like machine gun fire.  My house is a war zone.

Ironically, we needed a carpet to cushion the blow.  

This sounds like the fun and easy part of the project.  But, when you're doing a home improvement project, you realize, there's no fun and easy part.  It all just really sucks.  Because after looking at every carpet store in town, you won't be able to find exactly what you're looking for.   Then, you'll start looking on the internet.  Where you won't be able to find exactly what you're looking for either. Because you can't always get what you want.  But, if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need.  (I may have plagiarized those words.  But, is it really plagiarizing if everyone knows the source?)  Finally, after two months, and finding someone to install it, it was finished.

I am the Stair Master.
And by that I mean I get my exercise going up and down these stairs to nag kids to come get their neatly folded laundry and actually put it in their dresser and not throw it on the floor.

Now, how long until the kids & dogs destroy it?
(Somehow I didn't majorly screw anything up.  As long as you don't look closely at my paint job.) 

Monday, October 10, 2016


If you're a regular reader here, you know I'm an introvert.  Not only that, I'm terminally shy and socially anxious.  Making me a real introvert's introvert.  I love quiet mornings alone.  Self check out lanes in stores.  Quiet afternoons alone.  Avoiding phone calls and group texts.  (Basically, anything that contains the word 'group' in it, like groupthink, is just too social for me.)  Quiet evenings alone.  And cancelled parties.  It's not that I don't love people.  Because, I do.  I really do.

 It's just that I'm really awesome company for me.  

I don't mean to be braggadocious or anything.  But, I know exactly what I like.  And I don't need to compromise or explain myself.  Because both of those things involve talking which I'm not good at. But, I'm really good at giving myself what I need.  Which is alone time.  And if I store up enough reserves of me time, I can socialize and come off as one standard deviation from the norm instead of two.  Maybe I'm overselling myself here.  I can't say, because unlike an extrovert,  I can't get out of my own head to see myself from the outside.

Because extroverts have super powers.

I'm not going to lie, I used to think that they were just super needy wind bags.  With all their talking and needing to be the center of attention.  Which don't get me wrong, I loved and still do because it takes the pressure off of me.  But, I just didn't understand them at all.  Until I had a kid who's an extrovert.  

He's almost the exact opposite of me in every way.  He loves to talk to people.  After a long day at work, he'd love to go to a party to talk to even more people.  Is there an after party?  Cause he'd totally go to that too.  Because being around people energizes him.  So does solving problems.  He's so assertive he tries to solve problems we don't even have.  Whereas, I over think so much I can't even solve my own.  

Extroverts have charm. 

Not that introverts don't.  Because we do.  We really do.  It's just that it may take years for you to see it because we're more guarded.  And because we keep cancelling out on parties where there'd actually be an opportunity for you to see our quiet, understated charisma.  The difference is that the extrovert's charm is so much more accessible.  Which is a huge advantage in American culture where the population is fluent in extrovertism.  I would say I'm jealous.  And in some ways I wish I was an extrovert.  Specifically to feel more easily understood.  Except, it exhausts me just to think about extroverting.

So, I'm content being the mother of an extrovert.
 Quietly watching from the sidelines.
Most likely with a book.

Thursday, October 6, 2016

Sick Cravings

About twice a year I get a migraine like I did earlier this week.  If you've had the good fortune of never having one, they're utterly horrific.  Because not only do you have the most massive headache of your life, you're also extremely sensitive to light and sound and nauseous.  Oh so nauseous.  So, the only thing you can do is go to bed in a very dark room and pray that you don't puke because the only thing worse than having a migraine is having to clean up vomit when you have a migraine.  In the dark.

I laid in bed praying for death with a pillow over my head because I forgot to shut the shades and the open window when one of my neighbors started cutting down a tree with a chainsaw.  I may have also prayed for the neighbor's death.  I'm normally a very nice person, I SWEAR!  After laying there for hours deciding whether rolling over was worth the risk that the motion would make me retch and coming to terms with the disappointment that I wasn't going to die, I finally fell asleep.  And I woke up with a slightly less horrible headache and an empty, queasy stomach that needed to be fed.

Please god, since you didn't answer my prayer to die, 
let there be saltines in the cupboard.  

Then there, way in the back of my pantry was an open box.  And I really do mean open, because my kids never roll down the plastic bags or close the top of any box of food.  But, even so, thank god!  So I trudged them upstairs and took them to bed with me.  Slowly dining on stale saltines and water, I got a sick craving.  I can't be the only one who starts pining for bizarre foods when they don't feel well.  But, I may be the only one aching for Bit O Honey.  Which I probably haven't eaten since it was in my Halloween loot from 1980.  Because everyone knows no kid wants it and it's utterly untradeable.  But, once you've eaten all the other candy, six months after that, you'll finally take a bite outta that Bit O Honey.  Out of desperation because it is still candy.

I was in no condition to get in my car in search of this obscure candy that they probably didn't even make anymore.  But, later that night,  when I had to go to the airport to pick up my husband and was looking for an excuse to leave earlier than I needed to because my kids were fighting, I went to Walgreens.  Because supposedly, it's on the corner of happy and healthy.  But, I wasn't happy at all when I scoured the candy aisle for a full 10 minutes and couldn't find any Bits O Honey.  So, I left with Swedish Fish.  Which was even more disappointing.  What was I even thinking?

Fun fact:  I obsess about unimportant things that I can't find.  

So, the next day, I strategized.  Where am I likely to find an old candy that was likely discontinued in 1985?  No, not the internet.  That's cheating.  The Dollar Store.  


You know the sickest part of this whole thing?
I really, really like them.  
Which means I'm going to be a regular at The Dollar Store now.  

Monday, October 3, 2016

I'm Racist

For years I denied it was true.  I thought I was unbiased and accepting.  But, it turns out I'm not.  None of us are completely free of prejudices.  It's impossible to endure the varied and all too often cruel experiences life has to offer and remain unchanged and unbigoted by them.  No one is a clean slate.

We're all hypocrites to some degree. 

I don't care what color skin you were born with.  Whether you're straight, gay, bi or transgender.  What religion you are or not.  But, sweet Jesus, if you make yourself orange with self-tanner, I will judge the hell out of you!  You only brought this on yourself.  Literally.  At some point you decided to  go to the store and purchase self tanner.  Or you went to a tanning salon and paid an accomplice, which is even worse.  And why are there tanning salons in places like Florida, California and Hawaii anyway?  GO OUTSIDE FOR 5 MINUTES.  Done.  And you'll end up golden brown like a Thanksgiving turkey and not orange.  See?  My condemnation of the stupidity of it all is completely justified.  Because people pay actual money to look like an Oompa Loompa.  And it's not even a Halloween costume.

My racist roots go even deeper.

I'm even more judgy about what's going on underneath your skin.  Because you can't actually call yourself a vegetarian if you don't eat actual vegetables.  There I said it.  Then you're just an avoid-a-meat-a-tarian.  And really, if you're Paleo, why not just take it all the way and hunt and gather your own food?  I mean really commit to your convictions would you?  Plus, you're guaranteed to lose weight.  What are you a commitment phobe?  And if you're vegan I'm totally fine with that because there's more steak and butter for me.  Unless you're a part-time vegan.  In which case you're a damn hypocrite and give me back all the steak and butter already!

Need something to wash this harsh truth down with?

No, not a beer.  Beer is gross.  You cannot convince me otherwise.  Many have tried and failed. Yes, I've tried the chocolate beer and the porter.  I've tried them all.  Beer is vile.  It's not my opinion, it's fact.  Wine you say?  Sure!  Oh god, not Chardonnay!  I hate whites.  They're inferior.  Yes, all of them.  Even Pinot Grigio.  Which makes me a red supremacist.  And don't hand me some godforsaken nauseatingly sweet Lambrusco.  I like my reds bold and complex.  Which are the very same qualities I look for in people of any skin color.  Except orange.



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