U Can't Touch This..

CC by Witches Falls Cottages

I'm just here for relaxation apparently translated to the massage therapist as 'please be very aggressive in tending to my muscles'. 

Literally in pain at points.  I didn't go in for that.  I wanted a nice gentle massage.  Maybe a little aromatherapy.  Soothing and relaxing. Instead I was battered, kneaded, rolled, stretched and rubbed with an intensity I didn't see coming.

As I was lying there, trying to avoid whimpering when she hit the 'hot spots', my mind started to wander.  And, I wandered down massage memory lane. 

Here are my top massage moments:

1)
I had been to this massage therapist before so I kind of knew what to expect.  Unfortunately, she had literally just survived a fire.  Amen.  Seriously, that's scary stuff.  She was very fortunate.  Unfortunately for me, her clothes smelled of smoke.  And, she had a terrible cough.  It was awful, she would try to breathe and start hacking.  It was so bad!  Glad she survived, wish she had taken the day off to recuperate.

2)
But, not as bad as the new age man I had recently.  He wore a hemp necklace and mandals.  And, every time he went in for a stroke he took a huge deep breath through his nose and then exhaled loudly through his mouth.  I'm not kidding.  I think his breathing technique is also used in Lamaze.  Deep breath in through the nostrils..  Rub Liz's back and exhale.  Repeat.  The whole hour was spent with him focused on his breathing.  It was completely awkward.  Then he bowed when we parted ways.  Weird.

3)
And, moving on to another winning massage moment. This was early in my massage life. I wasn't sure whether I should leave the underwear on or off.  When the man came in to talk with me before my rub down he rubbed me the wrong way. Seemed kind of creepy. So, I left the underwear on.

He returned when I was comfortable under the sheet, face in the doughnut. Everything was wonderful.  Just as I liked it.. The he moved down to my legs. At this point he apparently thought my underwear was impeding his work. So, he yanked them in between my cheeks giving me the worst wedgie I've ever had. Worse than jumping of the platform dive at the aquatic center. Worse than Hanky Pankys.  It was suddenly like cheerleading and 'pinching a penny'. Then he went in for the kill and started massaging my bare bum. Seriously. There is a reason you leave underwear on. That means stay away.  In the wise words of MC Hammer, U Can't Touch This.

4)
Out walked a small man. I could have squashed him. I didn't know how he was going to have enough oomph to make a difference in my Swedish massage. Probably for the better considering the massive hangover I was rocking. I had been in Chicago for a bachelorette weekend and the night before was a crazy, late night, shots, champagne and not enough dinner kind of party. Anyway, my Swedish massage started off lovely. Soothing. Perfect pressure. Relaxation station.  Thank you!

Then he asked me to turn over. At this point I am face up and he moved the sheet for access to my legs. Then he lifted my leg and bent it at the knee. Then slowly straightened it. He repeated this motion several times puppeting my leg as if I was riding a bike. When the bicycle riding came to a stop he straightened my leg and began rolling it around at the hip creating giant leg circles in the air. Then he combined the two. Bicycle ride leg circle. Over and over and over again. The he pulled my leg, shook it vigorously and did it all again. Moved on to the other leg for the same amazing (sarcasm) experience.. I was in shock.

After all was said and done, he left, I changed. When I met him outside to receive my bottle of water I asked him what techniques he applied and mentioned I had never experienced anything like it before.  I had a straight face but was laughing hysterically inside.  His reply..Asian BodyWork.

Make a note ladies and gents, if you ever have a massage with Asian BodyWork I suggest leaving your underwear on.

Reply To All

The Reply To All option has a purpose.  And, in most instances it is helpful.  When you are having a conversation amongst a group of people.  Maybe it's about a business decision.  Or, maybe it's about where to go to lunch. Maybe it's about an upcoming trip and what the group wants to do while you are out of town.  Maybe it's coordinating the weekend's plans. In these instances Reply To All is the key to success at group organization!

The Reply To All button is also sometimes misused.  Occasionally I receive an email response (so does the entire office) telling me something that was really only intended for the person who sent the email.  Often, it's just annoying.  Nothing I need to worry about so I roll my eyes, shake my head while muttering 'Reply To All' and delete the email.

The worst is when someone sends out a mass email and someone replies to all with something completely inappropriate for the audience.

Case in point.

Several (many,many) years ago a co-worker sent out an announcement that they were having a baby!!  This exciting email was sent to everyone on our team, our boss, our boss's boss, our President, the receptionist.  Plus all of his family and friends. You name it they got it.  In actuality, they were adopting a dog!   I sent him a 'reply' note of congrats along with several reasons on why I love dogs.  No surprise that I went on and on about how much I cherish my pooch, Sam.

Twenty minutes later a 'reply to all' came through.  His friend wished him well and then went on to explain that often the manner in which the baby was conceived plays a huge impact on the personality of the baby.  He then proceeded to highlight that in this case it must have been...

Doggy Style.

Holy Crap!  I still can't handle it when I think about it today.  I could not believe that his friend literally just sent this to our entire office.  For me it was one of those loud, eyes-watering, stomach-hurting laughs at my desk.  For my co-worker, it was probably one of those moments when you hang your head in embarrassment, look back and wish you had sent it to your intended distro list under a BCC so Reply To All was never ever ever an option. 

I wonder how the baby dog is doing now?  And, I wonder if my former co-worker ever made that mistake again? 

Pay It Forward

I've been overwhelmingly fascinated with the Newtown tragedy.  I have been interested to learn about what happened.  How it happened.  Who was there.  Who wasn't there.  Why it happened.  I want to read about every person who is now gone.  Even if they lived a very short life, I want to know about it.  I want to hear what their parent's have to say, what their children think and what their brother or sister will miss.  And, in doing so, I will take a moment to honor them.  Even when I can't finish the article because I feel sickened with sadness, I will honor them.  I want to hear the stories of selflessness of the teachers and administrators. I want to know that the first responders have the support they need to work through what they saw.  I want the world to offer prayer, empathy and support for everyone touched by this event.

I am amazed at the outpouring of support immediately shown from people around the world.  An athlete who acknowledged his biggest fan.  A man who took his dog to offer up hugs to anyone who needed one.  A woman who donated to a local charity just because she wanted to do something to support children.  The newspaper that left out haunting images and simply and graciously listed the names of the victims on the front page.  A flash sale site that changed their daily email sale announcement to instead honor those who have been lost and provided a link so that you could donate to the United Way of Western Connecticut.  The countless people who are posting on facebook in support of all those who were lost. The sports teams that offered a moment of silence in honor before their games.  The President who shared heartfelt remarks.  The religious leaders who come together to pray for all people.  The person who hugs a child just a little tighter before sending them off to school or practice. And, I commend the woman who wrote the article about navigating through life with a son who seems to possess one too many similarities to many of the young men who have recently committed unfortunately comparable and disgusting acts of violence just so that we may better understand.

While many of these acts are simple in their nature, together they represent a community of people all over the United States and the World who are thinking of and praying for Sandy Hook and its' village of people mourning their unbelievable loss. Some of these acts are grand and others simple.  All heartfelt. 

We all can do this.  And, it doesn't have to be a an extravagant gesture.  But, take a moment, and find the good in the world and in your heart.  Once you find it, share a little bit of it with a person around you.  My kind actions may not reach the people of Newtown directly but if everyone one of us pays it forward eventually it will get there.  And, the warmth and love we feel for them now will be magnified tremendously.  And, that same love and kindness will benefit everyone around us as well.

Honoring Helen

When someone passes you try to find ways to honor them.  Whether in song or quotation, you look for things that have a deeper meaning to show your love, hopes, wishes and dreams for them in their afterlife and for the family and their friends in their "After" life.

Tomorrow marks the two year anniversary of the passing of our dear family friend after her battle with Pancreatic Cancer. The world lost a wonderful mother, daughter, wife, sister, role model and friend. I think of her often and am thankful that she is at peace.

What troubles me still is the loss for her daughters, my 'sisters', twins I grew up babysitting, playing with and watching develop into two of the funniest, kindest, most beautiful women.  And, I am tickled when they laugh and I hear their mother's laughter ring through the air.

I am bothered for her sons who need their mother in ways they can't even imagine but I am happy to see how they've grown into incredible men who treat the women in their lives in a way that would make her proud and feel honored.

I hope for her husband as he continues to find his way in navigating the world without her by his side and I smile because I know she watches over him and that he is surrounded with her love everyday through their children.

I am sad for her mother for losing her daughter far too soon.   But, I find peace knowing that she is smiling down onto her mother and caring for her from above.

I wonder about her friends and how lonely they feel when they want to share a story with her but I am grateful that they have found ways to cherish her memory in the places she loved most and feel her spirit when there together.

And, while thinking of these things brings tears to my eyes, I know that the most important thing is that in our "After" life we honor her by always living our best life.  Living a life in the amazing way that she lived hers.  A life filled with happiness, laughter and appreciation for the good around us. A life where you cherish accomplishments, support others wholeheartedly and always are willing to lend a hand and an ear. A life blooming with sunshine, celebration and love.

Today, tomorrow, and for every day after, I will honor Helen by trying to live my best life.  I ask that you do too.

HSB

1/4/53 - 12/13/10

those 3 little words..

I was head over heels.  I had found him.  The guy that made my heart race.  My mind fuzzy.  My stomach do flip flops.

We had been dating for a while.  Plans were made for The Holidays.  We spent a perfect amount of time together.  Not too much.  Not too little.

I laughed more, smiled more, skipped more.  Because. Of. Him.

It was my first 'love'.  I knew it.  We were going to be together.  Forever.  I had found my King.  I was certain.  I couldn't wait to hear it out of his mouth.  I love you.  I just wanted him to say it first so I could say it back.

We were out with friends.  He liked to drink.  A lot.  Later I realized too much. 

He got that look in his eye.  Or, that one eye.  The one that got smaller and squintier.  The look that I knew meant the proverbial 'other shoe' may drop.  He was slurring his words when he was telling me how much he liked me.  He was so happy I was in his life.  He couldn't imagine being with anyone but me.  The moment he saw me it was like a circle of light was surrounding me. He was drawn to me in that very first moment and could never let me go.

I knew it was coming.  He was going to say those 3 little words I had been waiting to hear for  SOOO   LOOONG.  To profess his unwavering love for me.   It was on the tip of his tongue.  I stopped breathing waiting for him to whisper it in my ear.

"I slub you"  he says.

He was trashed. 

And, he slubbed me. 

I felt like the unluckiest girl in the world.  My boyfriend slubbed me.  I wanted him to take it back.  I wanted to cry.  Who wants to hear for the first time that their boyfriend 'slubs' them?  Where was I love you? 

Gone.  Gone about 8 gins ago.  That's where it was.  He slubbed gin too. 

Holiday Bonus

I owe my cleaning lady.  BIG TIME.

I love the day that she comes.  My place looks and smells amazing!  I love being in it.  I don't want to leave.  I just want to lay around in it's cleanliness and enjoy the serenity that comes with a combination of pine-sol, windex, spic'n span, elbow grease and pledge.  Eau de Peace & Calm.

I just want to lounge on my comfy couch in my comfy post-work wear.  aka pajamas.  I want to inhale clean air and not see a spec of dust anywhere.  I want Eau de Peace & Calm to permeate my clothes, hair and self.  It is Heavenly.

For her visit last week I had left a Holiday Bonus in her check.  An extra show of thanks.

Usually she texts me when she leaves.  I was actually very much looking forward to getting her text all day because the cleanliness of my place would radiate the peace and calm through the cellular network.  And, I would feel so much more at ease knowing that I was going home to a clean, organized and smelling-good house.  Not the tornadic disaster I had left earlier that day.

The text arrived.  She thanked me for the Holiday Bonus and mentioned that she really appreciated it.  Warm and fuzzy feelings washed over me.  Eau de Peace & Calm was radiating from my inner self..

Then she sent another text.

"Sam 'got sick' in his cage.  The towel is now in the hall.  Put new towels in the kennel.  Cleaned him up.  Hope that was okay".

I had to read the text twice.  To make sure it really said that Sam got sick in his cage.  Of course he did.  On the day that I didn't go home at lunch.  And, the day that my cleaning angel came.

So much for a holiday bonus.  That was like prepayment for the bonus she was getting straight from Sam's intestines.   Eau de Puke and Stench.

My Dating misAdventures Entry # 2

A friend set us up.  On paper he was AMAZING.

Tall.  Love it!

VP of Marketing for a major sports team.  Smart and Savvy.

Dark Hair.  *swoon*

Christian.  My mom would approve.



CC By Eric Heath

We talked and agreed to meet on Saturday night.  He suggested the Top of the Mark. 

I knew nothing about the Top of the Mark.  I wanted to wear jeans.  He said he would be wearing a suit.  He wanted to get dressed up. See you soon fancy man.

Enter blonde girl.  Tuxedos in the lobby.  I am totally underdressed in my heeled sandals, skirt and tank.  I should have worn a sequined ballgown.  Up top, I take in the glory of this elegant restaurant at the peak of the Mark Hopkins Intercontinental Hotel in San Francisco's Nob Hill. Apparently you go here to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary. China.  Multiple forks and spoons.  Crystal.  Why not a pub with burgers and fries??

Over candlelight I drank wine with dinner.  He asked if I had been SAVED by Jesus.  I ordered another glass. I mean it's great to have a relationship with the big guy upstairs.  I have one, we talk.  However, date 1 may not the best time to bring it up. Let's have breezy conversation.  Flirt. Laugh. Share funny stories.  No need to go biblical.

He said and did some other odd things.  Kind of arrogant too.  We parted ways knowing we would never see each other again.  The car from the Mark Hopkins took me home.  Where was The Bachelor camera crew to film my tipsy commentary about my feelings toward the Jesus-loving sports exec?

Many months later I learned from the person who set us up that 1) she didn't know much about him and 2) at this exact same time he was trying to determine what to do about another female in his life.

Apparently they met at church.  Their lust and desire overtook them during bible study.  A one-night stand occurred. She was pregnant.  They weren't exactly sure what to do.

I think going out with me was a brilliant idea.  Do you sense the sarcasm in my voice?  Seriously?   Dude, you probably should have been attending to your knocked-up church friend.

Just Plane Inappropriate

I travel often.  I am not a 'road warrior' but I do have status which allows me great perks like access to exit row seats. 

I am also tall, for a lady.  And, taller than many men.  Which drains my dating pool.  Significantly.  This is another post.  But, just a second.  Seriously, it stinks.  I am doing the online dating thing and I rule out thousands of men due to height alone.  Some are hot!  Reminds me of a guy from college my friends and I used to call 'would be hot if tall'.  I don't think we ever called him this to his face.  Well, maybe once, after spending too many hours enjoying Penny Pitchers.   

Anyway, I digress.  Back to the original story... I am also tall, for a lady.  So, I really appreciate when I secure the exit row aisle seat.  I'll take an exit window or an exit center if necessary.  But the aisle is hitting the airplane seat assignment jackpot!!

On my recent trip to the islands I secured the exit row.  But, it was the window seat.  Okay, not ideal, but definitely better than a standard row where my knees are always at risk for being knocked around when someone in front of me decides to recline to rest.  Then I have to uncross my legs because I am never prepared and I always knock them back.  They think I am a bitch.  And, in the spirit of honesty since it is Sunday, sometimes I knock a little harder if I am annoyed that they flopped back during the recline and jarred my computer.

Moving on. 

So, my seatmates were a young couple in love.  They were lost in eachother's eyes.  Holding hands.  Maybe it was a honeymoon trip.  It was kind of sweet and kind of annoying.

We take off and the girl decides its time to get comfortable.     So, she takes off her shoes.  Really?  I think this is totally inappropriate on the plane.  Now, it could be worse, she could be clipping her fingernails or eating chicken off the bone straight out of a ziploc baggie.  I've seen both.  But, shoe removal on the plane is bad and one of my pet peeves.




What if I was terrified of feet?  Or, what if her feet smelled?  You don't always realize it.  And, she was wearing inexpensive pleather ballet flats which is a prime way to achieve foot smell.  Not knocking them.  Have several pair.  Also carry baby powder when I wear mine to avoid the foot sweats.




Anyway, her feet are pointed in my direction for a bit.  Then she starts to shift.  And, then she gets really comfortable.  Like, laying-around-the-house-watching-tv comfortable.  She just up and throws her un-shoed feet and legs over her main squeeze's lap.  Awesome, I've just crashed date night. 

Seriously?  Is this your living room?  Are we on your couch?  In your gingerbread house?  I would bet that she doesn't do that at a dinner party when she is kindly waiting for dessert to be served.  Or, in a hotel lobby.  Or, in the Dr's office waiting room. Or, at her in-laws house before she really got to know them. So, why on earth 17E is it okay to do it on the plane?


Take your legs off your husband, shoeless wonder.  Put your darling ballet flats back on.  Stop cuddling so that in the event of an emergency you will be willing and ABLE to assist the flight crew.  Bare feet are just plane plain inappropriate!

Counting My Blessings

I took a little blogging break as I was resting, relaxing, shopping, sunning and watching some hoops in the Virgin Islands over Thanksgiving.  The Littlest was playing in an islands tournament and so our family hopped a few planes to celebrate one of my most favorite holidays beachside.

 

Over the last month I've seen Facebook friends posting daily about all of things that have made their Thankful lists. I didn't partake in this trend but decided that on the last day of the month I'd jot down all of things I am blessed by and with.  Efficiency.  30 days of something I'm thankful for in one list, one post.  Done.  Read on.  And, this is not in order of least to most thankful or vice versa so don't be insulted if you aren't number 1.

          

My Blessings

1) Laughter (side-splitting, eyes watering, out loud laughter)

2) Kindness (in heart and mind)

3) La Famiglia (both sides and the 'family' that is not even biologically tied)

4) Sunshine

5) My pooch, Sam (although sometimes I want to send him off with the Gypsy's)

6) Girlfriends (enough said)

7) Baubles (bracelets, diamonds, cheap costume plastic stuff, heirlooms)

8) Ice Cream (Ben & Jerry's Phish Food in particular)

9) Bond No. 5 Nuit de Noho

10) Beaches (sand, turquoise water, sunshine, palm trees, Bette Midler)

11) Crushes (and the butterflies that come with them)

12) My trusty Volvo

13) Xanax (the calm that overcomes the storm)

14) Seashells (junonia's, jewels of the sea, catpaws, conchs, tulips)

15) Open Windows

16) Chardonnay (Rombauer is at the top of the list)

17) Gossip Magazines (and the trash they talk)

18) Grandparent memories (old spice, tab, velcro rollers, pontoon boats)

19) Church Hopping

20) Mani-Pedi's (and the Vietnamese women who are really good at doing them)

21) Wi-Fi and data plans

22) Sunroof - Moonroof (toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe)

23) Post-It's (thank you Romy & Michelle or maybe 3M)

24) Good reads (bound or nook)

25) Hand Lotion (Kiehls, l'occitane, love+toast, Archipelago)

26) Mentors (you know who you are)

27) Frequent flyer miles and hotel status (Thank you AA and Marriott)

28) Coca Cola (diet, zero, caffeine free and just plain ol' Coca Cola in the red can)

29) Old Sweatshirts (one GAP gray one that I love to wear inside out)

30) Gluten free cookies (who am I kidding, gluten free everything)
 

 

My Dating misAdventures Entry #1

I've gone on a few dates in my day.  Some wonderful. Some not so wonderful.  All good stories.

My friends get a good laugh at my dating adventures.  They ask when I have good ones.  Awkward ones.  Funny ones.  Short ones.  Tall ones.  Sad ones.  Bad ones.  I sound like Seuss. 




CC Trevor Hurlbut Aug. 28, 2010

Anyway, considering I am a single 35 year old, I've had a decent dating experience.  Many crushes.  Many good-byes.  A few boyfriends.  A couple of loves.  And, an occasional mistake (or two).

I've decided that you, too, may enjoy some of my dating misadventures. 


My first 'real' date.  He asked me out. A few days in advance.   That's apparently all it takes.

He was in college.  I was in high school.  I guess I've always had a thing for older men.

He was going to take me to House Decs.  We would walk around Greek Town and admire all of the decorations and skits each of the sororities and frats had conjured up in the grand spirit of Homecoming.  I was sure we would hold hands.

He picked me up.  There was no plan other than house decs.  Of course.   He was a freshman in college.   He drove through Taco Bell because he was hungry.  I didn't order anything.  I don't know that he asked if I wanted anything.  Not even a burrito.  I didn't want to hold his hand anymore.

House Decs?  Good.   The 'date'?  Really lame.  

There you have it.  My first real date.  I was completely disappointed. I called my girlfriends and complained.  At least that part of the 'date' went well..  Rehashed the whole thing with my girlfriends.  They told me he wasn't good enough.  I deserved better.  Exactly what girlfriends are supposed to do after a bad date.  The pattern was established.

Now, you'd think that any guy who took me on a date since then would score an A because the first one set the bar SO low.

Wrong.  I have high standards.  He was just the tip of the dating iceberg. 

Now, don't get me wrong there are some good ones. And, my girlfriends hear about those too. And, encourage me and tell me how excited they are and how great he sounds and when are you going out again??  We oooh and awww over those. 

But, there are many really bad ones.  And, honestly, those are the funniest.  And, make for the best stories.  And, the most laughter.  So that's what you will find the most of on this blog.  There may be a sweet one in there occasionally. And, just like in dating, it's the occasional sweet one that keeps you coming back for more.

My (sometimes) High Maintenance Life

I am sometimes High Maintenance.  I am a girl.  I think most of us can be this way.  Occasionally.  Or, often.  Whatever.

I try to keep my high maintenanceness under control.  I am good at this. Sometimes.  Not as often as I'd like.

Like the other day.

I went to breakfast with some girlfriends last Sunday.  It was an eggs and bacon and biscuits&gravy and pancakes kind of place.  No eggs benedict. No frittatas.

We had a party of five.  The restaurant was not that busy.  There was no wait.  They seated us at the most awkward table.  It was situated between 2 benches.  One side of the bench could accommodate 2 people. The other side, 3.  But, the weird thing was that the table was incredibly long.  Like 10 feet long.  So, the 5th person would not be facing anyone.  It was like they would be eating at their own table with no one to talk with or look at.

I didn't want to sit at this weird, non-inclusive table.  I didn't want anyone to sit by themselves at the odd end.  I didn't want anyone to have to sit across from no one.  Weird.  Awkward. I hated it.



© Copyright
Ben Harris
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So, I asked the host if we could sit at the other booth.  It was perfectly situated to allow us to sit near each other.  Everyone would be happier here.  I was certain of it.

Host:  "No, that's reserved".

Me:  "Really?"  "This exact table is reserved"?  "Well, is there somewhere else we can sit?" *snotty tone kicking in*

Host:  "No, you'd have to wait".

Waiting doesn't work for me.  Particularly when I am feeling high maintenance.  I was hungry. 


And, high maintenance.  We took the weird table.

10 minutes later a party of 2 was escorted to the table by the host.

Host: "It's so nice to see you again, Mary".

Mary wore a huge floppy hat and sunglasses.  Mary's perfectly manicured hand flaunted a diamond which was nearly 5 carats.  Mary was with her sweet adult son who likely just brought her from church. The waitress knew what Mary wanted. Mary was a regular.  Mary and son were served before our shared waitress took our order.  Mary's drink was always full.   I have a feeling Mary has a high maintenance side.

My motto from here on out:  Eat, Drink and (one day) Be Mary.

 

Naked People

There are many different types of people in the world.  Skinny, Tall,  Brown-Haired, Muscular, Chunky, Blue-Eyed, Petite..I could go on. 

There are also two very distinctive people - Naked People and Not Naked People.

The Naked Cowboy likely only wears underwear to avoid the NYC slammer.  He has made good money off of his nakedness.  Clearly he is a Naked Person.  Probably everyday.  Probably all of the time.

I am a Not Naked Person. I don't walk around the house naked. I don't dry my hair naked. Nothing. I did not grow up in a Naked House. We wore clothes. Always. I don't have anything against Naked People. I am just not one of them. So, their nakedness is sometimes surprising.

I dated a Naked Person once.  I found him sitting naked on the couch and felt so bad for every other person who would ever sit on that couch again. Yuck! This happened a few times and every time I was like 'put some freaking shorts on'...Sheesh. 

I also had a Naked Person as a roommate.  One night our home phone started screaming at 2am.  We were in our 20's.  This was not abnormal.  We both came running out of our rooms. I, clothed head to toe, in yoga pants, a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt.  It was winter.  She, on the other hand, was naked.  Totally naked. Not even jewelry naked. We stared at the phone, looked at each other, laughed and went back to our respective Not Naked and Naked Rooms.

You are either a Naked Person or a Not Naked Person.  There is no in-between.  The Naked Ex sometimes also cooked naked.  Breakfast.  Really.  Nothing like a full moon when you walk into the kitchen on a Sunday morning.

Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian?

Since I was writing about ending my last relationship the other day I started thinking about The BreakUp.

One of my favorite comments he threw at me:  "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"?

Really?  Kim Kardashian?  Did he really say that? We don't look alike.  At all. Except that I have a generously sized derriere. That we have in common.

I am laughing just thinking about it. "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"? Howling, in fact. Tears in eyes laughing. That is absurd.

I think I had actually forgotten about this gem of a moment until Halloween when I wrote about The BreakUp in the exceptionally funny post Ruby Red Lipstick: Anniversary Edition. Yes, I sometimes think I am funny.  I laugh at my own blogs.  Narcissistic, I know.

I love Kim K.  She makes me laugh.  She is glamorous and ridiculous and keeping up with her makes for great DVR.  Her family is amazing!  I laugh out loud at their antics and dysFUNction!  As much as I enjoy their shows and the entire Kardashian - Jenner family, I have no idea why on earth he thought that I thought that I was Kim Kardashian.


CC BY Holywood Branded, Inc.

And, know that when I say dysFUNction it is with complete love and adoration.  My father always said that our family puts the FUN in dysfunctional.  Total term of endearment. My love to the Kardashian-Jenners.  They add the FUN too.

Anyway, around that same time last year, Kim decided to end her relationship with Kris Humphries (Hump to you Kardash fans). In fact, I do believe her divorce filing was on October 31st of Twenty-Eleven.  The same day of The BreakUp.  Google confirmed. 

Apparently my ex was keenly aware of this and felt that me ending my bad relationship on Halloween was akin to Kim ending hers.  I didn't understand the comparison then and I don't understand it now.

Regardless, here's to you Kim Kardashian!  It seems that you are much happier one year later.  Me too!

30 Happy Things as listed by Wildfox

I found this shirt when I was out shopping during the Girls Weekend I keep mentioning.   I ♥ it.

I would never wear it though. I am not a t-shirt with words kind of person. Nor, logo shirts. Not my thing.

But, I think this one is sooo cute!  On the hanger.   Or to sleep in.  I love it.

But I don't need $88 sleeping shirts. 

Available at Wildfox Couture online if you do.



photo by Liz ~ t-shirt by Wildfox Couture

30  HAPPY  THINGS
Night Drives
Seven Minutes In Heaven
Sketching On flights
Picking Blackberries
White Sheets
Sunrise
Little Animals
Baggy Shirts
Laughing Until It Hurts
Dad
Dressing Up
Cold Nights, Open Windows
Free Samples
Cat Paintings
Wine Drunk
90's Barbies
Borrowing Clothes
Sleeping On Trampolines
Waking Up With All Your Friends
Driving To Loud Music
Hepburn Marathons
Train Rides
Sleeping Bags
Ice Cold Water In The Summer
Falling Asleep At His House
New York Streets
Los Angeles Hills
Fancy Dresses
Watercolors
Kissing For Hours

God Bless Americans

I don't know anyone who likes to wait in line for anything.

But, we all do it on election day.  And, most of us do it patiently.  Even those of us who are not patient.  Me.  My whole life. 

Today is a day we get to exercise our right to choose, to say what's important to us and to cast our vote for those individuals who will best represent our interests.

There was a time I didn't vote.  I didn't take the time to learn about the candidates and didn't feel educated enough to make a choice.

This year I voted on select things.  I skipped over the things where I felt I didn't know enough.  Perhaps you'll think this is silly on my part and a shame that I didn't do my homework.  That's okay.  It's America and the beautiful thing is that you can think what you want, believe what you want and I can do the same.  And, our thoughts may be different and that is what makes our country great!

Take a moment today and Vote. 

Even if it's just for one thing - the President, an amendment, a judge.  Whatever.  There are millions of people who have fought for our freedoms to have this right.  As a woman there was a time when people like me could not vote.  Someone stood up, said let's make a difference and as a result I have this opportunity today.   Vote and show respect to all of those people who have fought for all Americans to have this right and to those Americans who continue to fight to ensure our liberties and freedoms.

God Bless America.  And, God Bless Americans.

Vote.

Girlfriends Bible

I committed a Cardinal Sin as listed in the Girlfriends Bible.

During a recent Girls Weekend I invited a guy to come and meet us out. He asked what we were doing. So I told him. And then added in a "Come meet us"!

I never. In a million years. Thought he would do it. Seriously. I totally thought I would call his bluff. He is not my boyfriend. We are not dating. We occasionally talk. And, occasionally text. Occasionally we get together for wine and witty conversation. And, I occasionally have a bit of a crush.

Anyway, he strolled right into the bar and pulled up a chair and spent an hour chatting with us. Bought our drinks. Made us laugh. Smelled good too.

Sorry girls, I know that this is a M A J O R no-no. Inviting a guy to any part of a girls weekend is sacrilegious. It might even be one of the biggest Girlfriend no-no's. Of. All. Time.

This was sacred girls time. Time to talk about girl things. Time to laugh at our pasts and our presents. Time to tell embarrassing stories. Time for emotionally bonding girl behavior. Time to do stuff you can't or don't want to do when male friends, boyfriends, husbands, daters, sons, lovers, whatever are around because it takes away from the girlieness.

Fortunately, I have the coolest, most understanding girlfriends. In. The. World.

To my ladies:
Thank you for letting me flirt during our girls weekend.
Thank you for not judging, condemning or banishing me from the festivities.
Thank you for not laughing out loud when I was batting my fake eyelashes at his cute face.

I shall repent with 3 Hail Mary's. And, one Our Father for good measure.   Amen.





CC Jess Pac

one of those days

I am cranky.

I was supposed to have dinner with a friend and I graciously turned down the invitation when I realized it was going to be just one of those days.

My afternoon hasn't helped. In fact it's made it worse.

I opened the front door and was overwhelmed with a smell.  A smell that you know immediately.  It's the smell of dog poop.

Sam was in his kennel.  I had been running around this morning.  I checked the spot that he occasionally mistakes for the backyard. Thinking perhaps he snuck in a potty break before I left.  No poop.

I walked into the room where his kennel sits.  Poop.  Everywhere around the kennel.  Little black poops.  Poop smeared on the bed in the kennel.  Poop probably on Sam.  And, there he is.  In the corner waiting to be let out of the kennel so he can get away from the poop he put there.

I clean the poop up.  Touch some poop with my hand.  Wash my hands.  5 times.

I go to put some things away and knock a plate off of the counter.  The plate shatters.  I cuss.

I get the broom and dustpan and start sweeping up shards of plate.  There are plate pieces in the kitchen.  Under the shelves.  In Sam's water bowl.  There is plate in the dining room.  Under the table and a few of the chairs.  Plate made its way to where the poop was.

Then I can't find the dustpan.  Anywhere.  I look on every surface.  I look in the hall where the broom lives.  3 times.  I look on each chair. I look on the table, the counter, in the freezer.  At this point who knows.  I walk in circles looking for that darn dustpan.  Where the heck is it?

Tony, Tony turn around.  Something's lost and must be found.

Ghetto Phone

Last weekend, I was texting while walking and had an incident with the sidewalk grate.  You know the grates I am talking about..the city planner trys to make the sidewalk pretty so they add trees and grates to hold the trees.  But, this makes it harder for people to walk.   And, when you are walking you have to duck to dodge tree branches every 6 feet to avoid getting smacked in your pretty face.  I love urban beautification but sometimes it's annoying.  Like last Saturday night. 

Anyway, so I am texting, dodging branches, my Stuart Weitzman heel slips into the grate and I drop my phone on the ground.  And, when I picked it up, the screen had shattered.  Major shattered.  Ugh!

This was bound to happen sooner or later.  I drop my phone all of the time.  Like daily.  When I get out of the car. When texting. When answering calls.  When trying to put it back in my bag. When taking it out of my bag.  Butterfingers.

I used to have that problem in basketball with the ball.  Maybe that's why I quit playing after junior high.  Oh well, I liked cheerleading and drinking wine coolers better.  Sorry mom.

So, the phone face is way shattered.  But it still works.  I can text, talk, facebook, tweet, check email, obsess over pinterest, blog.
All good.

So, the $100 question was do I pay to have the screen repaired or hold out for my January upgrade?  Rumor has it that you can put a screen protector on the phone and still use it without the risk of finding splintered glass in your finger. Your phone just looks ghetto.  Do I care if I have a ghetto phone?  I don't know?  It works.  But, I am a bit superficial. Shocking, I know.

So brilliance descended upon me.  I'll call Verizon and beg and plead for an early upgrade.  I was ready with the story about how my ex and I had a Family Plan.  It was in his name but we broke up so I had to assume liability and I've really had this phone for 2.5 years so I should have been due for the upgrade months ago... Blah, blah, blah.  I shared my sob story hoping it would work. 

And, I won!!!

Verizon agreed to send me a new iPhone 5 now!  I don't have to wait until January!! I get this brand new piece of glory shortly!!    I am so impatient so this is great! 

What? I have to wait until they are back in stock November 16th. No!  I have to pay a $30 upgrade charge? Seriously?  I have to change my plan?  Really Verizon?  And, I have to use the ghetto phone for two more weeks.  Ugh!  I am so impatient so this is going to really stink.  Wwwwaaaahhhh

I'll just count down the days until November 16th.  Only 15 to go.  Probably 17 until I get the new phone. 

Keep Calm & Text On

Ruby Red Lipstick: Anniversary Edition

I am single.  I have been for a year now.  To the day. 

Yes, I dumped my ex on Halloween of last year.  He applied for a car loan in my name.  For a Range Rover.  When he was unemployed.  Really?

He did a handful of other things that really crossed the line and my forgiveness had just run out.  So, I came home mid-day and told him it was over.  I didn't cry.  I just felt an incredible sense of Peace.  Even when he called me every nasty word you can think of to refer to a woman or her body. Or, when in the middle of The BreakUp he changed his relationship status on Facebook to 'single'.  Who does that?  Peaceful the whole time. Seriously.

That peaceful easy feeling lasted for about 14 hrs.  Then, I woke up and I felt terrible.  And, I felt great.  And, I felt sad.  And, I felt happy. And, I felt relief. And, I felt lost.  And, I felt found.

For a while it was a mix of these emotions but eventually I got over the ex and the relationship.  My friends were amazingly supportive through it all!  The best friends a girl could ask for.  Xanax also helped. So did wine.  Sometimes too much.  But never too much of both at the same time. I even called the Walgreen's pharmacist a few times to be sure my time between the sedatives and the wine was enough. They think I am completely nuts. Safety first.

I think the 'tipping point' in my 'moving on' was when me and my Ruby Red Lips found him at a pizza place.  No, I didn't smooch him. YUCK! I seriously just gagged a little.  I did however try to play nice.  Until he asked me to do him a favor. 

 Him: Liz, could you do me a favor?
 Me: Sure, what's that?  (me trying to play nice)
 Him:  Lay off the red lipstick?

Seriously?  Who says that?  Lay off the red lipstick?  Really?

Whatever.  Like he had any right to comment on my appearance or my make-up selection. Who did he think he was?

I love me some red lipstick.  Here is one of my favorite pics of me rockin' red lips. I get that the picture is a bit crazy. Cray-Zee is totally why I love it.

Whenever I put on the red lipstick I am empowered, strong, beautiful and confident.  Actually I feel that way in pink lip gloss or when I wear chapstick too.  But, when I pop the cap off of the red I remember that moment and how good it felt to tell him

Me: Actually...I like it...so I'll probably keep wearing it. *smug smile*

Today, I am wearing red lipstick.  And, I feel Great.  Happy and Healthy. Peaceful and Pretty.  Sassy and Sophisticated.  And, I don't have a Range Rover in my driveway.  And, even better, he doesn't have one in his.

I Heart Manicures

I love getting a mani-pedi.  I love that I can relax and sit in silence and have my feet and hands pampered.

I don't love that I am SO picky when it comes to my mani-pedi.  I recently went in for this amazing service at my favorite nail salon.  So there I am.  Feet in the tub. Soaking off the gel nail polish from my fingers.  This is where you submerge your fingertips in acetone and the gel magically soaks away.  It never works like this for me.  They always have to take one of those metal sticks and scrape the existing gel polish off.  And, of course they do it with vigor. So it hurts.  And, if you don't get another manicure with the magic gel polish they charge you $20 to take off what they put on two weeks ago.  What a racket.  But I love it.

Before I start the mani-pedi goodness I always spend too much time debating the color I want. And, since I wanted bright red on my fingers I had to look at every gel color with extreme scrutiny.  The gel colors are painted on fake plastic fingernails so you also have to be careful because it never looks exactly the same on human hands.   

When we got to the point that my toes were painted with the 'matching' red in non-gel nail color I decided I didn't like it.  Like hated it.  It looked way too orangey red. I prefer a blue-red over an orange-red any day.  I hated it to the point that I wanted it off.  Immediately. 

Unfortunately I felt bad because the gal just spent time tending to my toes.  And, you have to always be nice to your manicurist. They remember when you complain or are difficult.  And, I can be difficult.  I don't like when my nails are too long or too short.  Or, too round or too square. Sometimes I think they look funny so I ask them to file it just a bit more. They always fix it.  Even if they think you are crazy.  And, they smile when they do it.  So if I asked her to redo it she would...but then on my next manicure she'd accidentally cut my cuticle and have to use that green stuff that burns like crazy but stops the bleeding. Or, take the metal stick and scrape with anger. 

After weighing my options I went ahead with the 'matching' red on my hands. You know, because I liked it SO MUCH on my toes I was sure that I would LOVE it on my hands. 

Fast forward and it's been 6 days since the mani.  I still don't love the red I picked.  But it has grown on me.  And, apparently other people like it because I was complimented by my friend on how beautiful my hands are.  Maybe she was still drunk. Or, it was dark in the room.  Or, she really thought my hands were nice.

I was also just complimented on the manicure by a co-worker.  She said she lives vicariously through me since I can get a mani. 

I started to complain about how much I didn't like it.  And, then thought..wow, she doesn't have the time to get a manicure.  And, then I was grateful. And, Happy. And, thankful for my orangey red manicure. 

And, even though I don't love the color of my manicured nails I love that I have the time to do it.

Happy Hallowine!!

I can't believe Halloween is right around the corner...I've always loved Halloween and loved getting dressed up! 

A couple of years ago my friends decided to go as Angels & Devils.  Nothing like seeing tinted Escalade doors open and several scantily clad devils and angels hop out.

The plan outlined that each of us dress as our opposite.  Nice girls should be devils and the 'other' girls would be angels.  Some of us are just not as nice as the rest.  So, two of us were angels. My angel partner in crime shall remain nameless.  We had fun as our alter egos.  We were nice and happy and sweet.  All night. 



This year I am going to pass on the dressing up.  One, I can't fit into any of my costumes.  Two, this year's sleazy costumes are not my thing. And, three,  I have no bar-hopping, crazy clubbing plans.  Gone are the days of finding my way to the VIP room dressed as a 'Naughty Catholic School Girl' to pop bottles with one of the 'bones from Bone Thugs-N-Harmony and Mystikal.  Gone is the desire to 'shake' my assets in a 'Captain Booty' pirate costume. Gone is the wish to dance with the 'Devils' at a haunted house.

This year, I'd rather be an observer.  Watch the kids run through the neighborhood in their costumes. Hand out candy after laughing at terrible trick or treat jokes. Smile at the parents who have to sort through all of that candy and hide half of it so Johnny doesn't vomit on his costume or his sister.    

I'll do that and drink wine.  Maybe in wings and my halo.

Have a Safe and Happy Halloween!

Please Meet Sam, the dog, formerly known as Prince

when Sam was a little pup..

This is the sweetness I call Sam.  I adopted him from a local shelter several years ago.  His name was Prince when I met him.  To me Prince should be a bad-to-the-bone bulldog or Pit.  Or, a little, tiny, pocket puppy!   So, since I was adopting him there was an immediate name change. His official name: Sam, the dog, formerly known as Prince.  Sam, Sammers, Sammydog, Dogathon or Puppy for short.

Sam and I have many good times. I love when he snuggles, tosses his toys around for himself or morphs into Rocket Dog and blasts through the yard in circles.  Laugh out loud funny. Every time he does it.  We've also had a few bad times.  Like when he ate my Gucci horsebit sunglasses or chewed the corners off of 7, yes SEVEN, comforters.  This was when he was a puppy.  I guess he had a thing for stuffing.  Or when he stayed at my friends house when I was out of town and ate the baby Jesus from the nativity. Or, maybe it was Joseph?  Or, a wise men?  Whatever. 

Sam makes me laugh every day.  Sometimes he makes me scream.  Like yesterday.   But he doesn't understand when I yell F&*K!!!!!!!!!!!!!  SAM !!!!!!!!!!!!  He probably thinks I yelled  PARK!!!!!!!!!!!!  SAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! So he wags his tail and smiles at me.  And, I want to scream.

Why?  Well...I found some kind of brown smudge on the B R A N D  N E W slipcover for the chair cushion.  Literally not even 24 hours old. Just ironed and steamed and updated yesterday. I stared down the smudge hoping it would disappear. And, this is what goes through my mind...

Chocolate..did he eat chocolate!?! Oh, no!!!   But how could he have gotten chocolate?  Chocolate kills dogs.. Mud?? ..more likely than chocolate.  But, he wasn't in the mud?  There is no mud. Plus he was only outside long enough to lift his leg and take a few deep bunny-sniffing dog breaths.

Dog poop????   Oh My Gawd....It's dog poop!!!! I am sure of it.  Poop on my brand new slipcover! Are you kidding me???? How on earth did Sam get poop on the chair?!?!?  It can't be dog poop, it has to be chocolate!!! 

But, the dog-mother sniff-test confirmed...it was indeed poop! Dog! Poop!

You see Sam likes to sit on the back of the chair and daydream out the window.  So instead of just watching squirrels to pass the time I guess he rubbed some poop on my chair.  Awesome.
 

Steroids..not just for MVP's

Steroids work miracles.  I was sick earlier this week and a shot of steroids helped me wake up the next day full of energy, ready to go and no longer sounding like I had a 3 pack-a-day habit. Granted my bum felt like I was kicked by a horse, but I could breathe, I sounded like me, I. Felt. Better.  Good enough to go to the Cards game and watch them smoke the Giants.  Hopefully we'll see more of that tonight in San Francisco.

Now I am taking 60 mg of steroids in 6 pill-a-day fashion to help keep me breathing cleanly and to eliminate the upper respiratory infection I had.  Past Tense. It is going, going...gone!  Kind of like all of the homeruns hit during the steroid era of baseball. 

Now granted these are two very different types of steroids, right?  I am not trying to get stronger or bulk up like an All-Star.  Although, I think I could put away a bag of chips in seconds because I want to eat everything in sight.  And, I am experiencing crazy amounts of energy.

So I updated my living room...I had ordered new Crate & Barrel slip covers for my couch and chair and they F I N A L L Y arrived.  So I spent yesterday evening steaming, ironing, eating, straightening, steaming, ironing, straightening and eating.

Here's the 'new' chair.  Thank you Crate & Barrel.  Now if only I could have sat still long enough to enjoy the comfy newness of it.  Instead I started laundry and had some cookies.

A first time for everything..

In life there are many 'firsts' - a first birthday, first day of school, first kiss, first hangover, first 'real' job, first health scare, first house, first love, first loss.  Today is my FIRST blog.  Ever. And, just like every other first, it is intimidating, exciting, a bit uncomfortable and after it happens I'll probably think of a million things I should have, could have, would have done differently.

I have been inspired to blog by two wonderful (and crazy) women I met one night over dinner with friends at my favorite Mexican restaurant, 'The Ranch'.  Keep this in mind. 'The Ranch' will come up again. Likely on a Thursday. It's a tradition. Maybe that's why my jeans are tight. Anyway, both women are bloggers and have quite a following.  I shared a few of my stories over fajitas and enchiladas and talked about how I am a little narcissistic and they said sign up, join the fun. 

I looked at blog options that night stuffed from my Mexican fiesta. But just couldn't take the leap into the land of blog. Perhaps it was a Mexican coma.  Or, just a lack of adventure.  But I did not take that first step.

A few months later one of the women was in town again, visiting her daughter, one of my good friends.  We talked more about it over dinner.  We like to eat.  Although this time it was Italian. Yum. And again she was talking to me about blogging.  What really had me hooked is that she was headed to our fancy mall the next day to buy herself a new Louis Vuitton with her blog money.  Now, that's what I am talking about. Granted, I am nowhere near Louis status in the blog world.  I am starting out..it's like buying your first designer handbag at Coach.  Very exciting, but not Louis exciting. Maybe my blog will get there one day.  Today, I am just going to enjoy my first post and maybe I'll find that Coach handbag and appreciate it for what it was..my first.