Crap you don't need

I get a lot of holiday catalogs these days.

What makes me chuckle is the number of items in these catalogs that are completely stupid and unnecessary. (And usually pretty expensive for what you get.)

The most recent one came from the Macy's catalog.

It's a $100 (on sale--SAVE $40!) soda maker--I'm sorry, I mean SODASTREAM GENESIS.

How many liters of soda would you have to make with this thing to make it financially viable? Considering the fact that you also have to buy the soda syrups (also on sale!) at Macy's, my verdict is that you'd have to make more soda than you'd ever want to to make this thing worth it.

Also, I imagine that the fun would die after you made about six liters of soda. And then it would just be a job.

And who has the counter space for shit like this? 

This is fun! I'll keep my eyes open for more Crap You Don't Need.

Stay tuned.

Dear Wallgreens Clinic Doctor/PA/RN

The joke about following me home to be sure I followed your health instructions was kind of funny once.

By the fourth time you repeated it, it was downright creepy.

Yeesh.

I'm already sick of

Those damn Lexus Christmas commercials.

An unsuspecting individual walks out the front door to discover a brand-new Lexus with a big red bow on it.

And everybody rejoices.

Give me a break.

The last thing that would make me happy on Christmas day is finding out that my significant other had just saddled us both with a $500-a-month lease without consulting me.

Bah-humbug.

The downside of eHarmony

Beau and I have a friend who's trying to meet ladies on eHarmony.

We asked how it was going and he said he was pissed off that the site was only setting him up with old ladies.

I found this perplexing and asked a few questions.

Turns out, he's a young buck in the prime of his life... but women his own age are old ladies.

Sigh.

Sad and sweet

I buy a lot of used books (better for the environment, better for my budget).

Most of the time, they're just normal, everyday books.

But every so often, there's a little gem. Something someone used as a bookmark, a note scribbled in the margin, or--my favorite--an inscription.

The book I'm reading now has an inscription that makes me smile and makes me sad and--above all--makes me wonder.

It's more of an apology than an inscription. Maybe Erik thought his dad would inevitably complain about the small print. Or maybe Erik is just very considerate and sincerely searched for a large-print version. Did Erik's dad request the book? What did Erik think his dad would like about it? Did he even like it (it did, after all, end up in a pile of used books). The signoff at the end is very sweet. What kind of relationship did they have? 

And I wonder and wonder and wonder.

(And I'll continue to wonder until I'm done with the book--that's how dorky I am.)

The Highlands Ranch High School drama department

Made a bold choice this fall.

Is it just me, or is this a little... deep for high school students?

Chicken-fried circle of hell

I love my grandpa.

He's a WWII hero and truly a great man.

Dad called me on Veterans Day Eve to ask if I wanted to go to dinner with them and Grandma and Grandpa the next evening.

Me: Sure, where are we going?

[Insert theme music from Jaws]

Dad: It's your Grandpa's choice.

Me: Ok, so where?

[Music swells]

Dad: You know where.

Sigh. I did know. Too bad I'd already said yes...

As much as Grandma loves McDonald's, Grandpa loves the Old Country Buffet.

I loathe the Boo-Fay. First of all, the world OLD is already in the name, which gives you a clue about the clientele.

The nickname I've given the place will give you another hint: The Shovel. Why? Because people shovel massive amounts of food on their plates. And then they shovel it down their gullets. And then they repeat the transaction. This is a place with a lot of elastic waistbands lumbering around.


It's a frickin' cattle call in there. Everybody grazing around, elbowing people out of the way in an effort to get to flavorless, sub-par food. Starch-a-palooza. And NOBODY MOVES. They also let their kids run around like maniacs (because they've, of course, gone for dessert first, so they're all hyped up on sugar).

Lemme run down a list of just a few of the things I encountered on my night at The Shovel.

• A woman in a rabbit-fur coat.
• A soft taco that was so not soft that it CRACKED when I went to fold it in half. Yum. After that, I was too scared to try the hard tacos and ditched the Mexican food idea entirely.
• A child, accompanied by his dad, no less, who had an entire plateful of French fries. No veggies. No protein. Just fries. Nutritious! (Meanwhile, after the Taco Incident, I decided to play it safe with a plate of vegetables. Grandma didn't think that was a good meal for me. How is a plate of vegetables a bad choice for a meal??? I give up.)
• Actual RAGE that there was no pie available at the exact moment when one fella wanted it. Employees were in the process of going to get more pie, but it was too damn late! 
• And, my favorite.... I. Saw. ASSCRACK at the boo-fay. 

Buh-bye appetite.

Like I said, I love my grandpa.

And now that you know what I'm willing to undergo on a Friday night for him, I think you know just how much I mean that.

Wedding crap

I've mentioned before that I like to buy bridal magazines because I love pretty dresses and cake.

I subscribed to my favorite one because those things are expensive and because it's nicer to have them delivered right to my home (just like I do with all of my porn subscriptions).

One drawback to this subscription is that I've made my way onto a few mailing lists for other bridey stuff. Stuff I don't want, need, or care about.

Like the wedding crap catalog I got in the mail last week. It's filled with the tackiest wedding items I've ever seen (mostly, I guess, because I'm only invited to nice weddings).

If only I'd taken a few photos to post...

Oh wait! I did!

Nothin' says I'm in it for the long haul like a Wedding Ring Shot Glass.
Only $5 per dozen!

Honestly, if you could convince your fiance to wear this (it's TOP RATED),
how could you respect him enough to marry him?

Same goes for these douchey wedding-party socks. If they don't know
who they are, how are these socks going to help?

A classy way for your guests to keep their canned beverages cold
at your wedding.

An even classier (and inflatable!) way to make those beverages cold.
(I spy screw-top wine!)

Screw-top wine, beer koozies, and inflatable beer tubs
are the perfect recipe for a weddin' rave!

If a rave ain't your thing, take the sophisticated route with these lovely
rose candles. Fire hazzard, schmire hazzard.

And don't forget to give your guests the gift that keeps on giving when they
leave: LOTTO TICKETS!

NOW THAT'S CLASS!!!

No-buy November

If you read this blog last November (and you're still here now, you're amazing for hanging in with me), you might remember that November is my no-buy month.

I don't buy anything for myself. I can buy food, experiences, gifts for others, and household necessities, but no books, no earrings, no music, etc.

It saves me a little money and it gives me perspective on want vs. need.

And if I trip up/cheat, I have to report it.

I'm halfway in, and I've done really well.

But I did mess up on the first of the month. I forgot that iPhone apps are personal purchases.

But I'm making up for it. I'm buying 10 ducks for impoverished families around the world through World Vision.

Most of us have it pretty good in this country. Food, shelter, clean drinking water, a warm place to sleep. Why not reach out to those in need?

I also highly recommend donating to your local food bank.

Nothing you spend money on for yourself feels as good as the money you spend to help someone else.

Because an empty mailbox is too ambiguous

On Saturday afternoon, I opened the mail box to find a slip inside.

Oh boy! A package! (Of course, I thought it was a little weird that my mail carrier didn't bring the package to the door; I'd been home all day.)

Then I got a better look at the slip.

Really?

Do my Cooking Light and Vogue subscriptions make me look like a simpleton to the point of not understanding whether or not I actually had mail on Saturday?

Weird.

(PS, Dad found the silver lining with this little gem: Maybe your mail carrier is stalking you and this is kind of a love note. Thanks, Dad.)

We're such a cute couple

Ridiculous childhood comeback recalled

Back in the *ahem* 80s, when someone stuck their tongue out at you, the appropriate response was:

I don't french long-distance!

Oh yeah. We were a classy lot.

No more tears

I hate chopping onions (actually, I'm not a huge fan of onions, period, but sometimes they're a necessary evil in the kitchen). Burning eyes, mascara running down my face--it's unpretty.

I've tried many different methods to avoid the onion meltdown.

Wraparound glasses.
Slap Chop (oh yes, I own one, mofos).
Holding a piece of bread in my mouth while I chop (soggy and gross).

On and on.

I heard that if you burn a match beforehand, it helps (and it does, but if you're slow and clumsy with a knife like I am, you need to burn multiple matches--and if you're clumsy, the combination of fire and knives isn't good anyway).

Then I heard about holding a matchstick (unlit--let's keep those eyebrows intact) between your teeth as you chop.

Holy shit! It worked! It's CHEAP!

Shout it from the rooftops!

(I only tried it once, but once is a victory in my book)

Coat #1

You can blame my friend Q for this one. She told me I should do semi-regular posts about my (embarrassingly large) coat collection. I tried this for my shoes, but I didn't really get anywhere with it.

Why not? Coats are half the reason to live in Colorado. The other half is because we're all so damn good lookin'! :)

Here's coat #1.
Faux-fur swing coat.
For those who don't know, Swing Coat is code for Makes Me Look Fatter Than I Am, But I Don't Care. It's buff color (see picture 2), has fluffy ruffles, and--best of all--it's the softest thing you've ever touched in your life. The most pettable item of clothing I own.

Mom bought it for me for Christmas and I was so excited that I put it on when Beau and I went for a pre-dinner walk (even though it was close to 70 degrees outside and I was already wearing a festive sweater and a Santa Claus scarf--Beau was soooo proud to be seen with me that day, let me tell you). 

It's awesome and I love it.

More coats to come (whether you like it or not).

Worst cover story ever

Years ago, my friend Jess sent me a voicemail she'd received from a coworker that day.

The first half was business as usual, then Jess's coworker hung up.

At least she thought she'd hung up.

While voicemail was still recording, she started griping about Jess to someone in her office, ending the tirade by calling Jess bitchwhore.

And THEN she realized she hadn't hung up.

Oops. Charming.

All was silent for about a half hour (presumably the time it took to cook up this brilliant cover story).

Jess sent me voicemail number two:

Hi, Jess, it's [insert bashful coworker name here]. Um, you may have heard something at the end of that last voicemail I left for you that you might take the wrong way. But you really shouldn't. Here in the office, my friends and I call each other bitchwhore all the time. It's a total term of endearment. I certainly didn't mean it in a mean way or anything. Ok, have a nice day. Bye!

Really? A term of endearment?

If that's the case, then I hope y'all have a great day, bitchwhores!!!

If you've festooned your vehicle with rubber testicles...

Chances are, you've put this shit all over it too.

The ever-classy bullet-hole decal.

This sends the message that not only do you want people to think you're an asshole, you want them to think that someone else thought you were enough of an asshole to shoot at you.

Only they didn't.

You just have fantasies about being an asshole. Or a drug dealer (same difference).

And that's just sad.

My new catchphrase

I overheard a weird little exchange last week on the day of the snowstorm (BLIZZAKS!).

Man: So, you enjoying the snow?

Woman: I'm ok with it.

Man: Are you enjoying the snow?

Woman: Yeah, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.

I don't know if she was being intentionally sexual or not (though I have a theory), but that's immediately how it sounded to my ears.

And it's totally my new catchphrase!

This mac and cheese is good, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.

This cooking class is nice, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.

The Oxford English Dictionary is useful, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.


I've officially cracked myself up.

A new fun word to say

The night before a snowstorm last week, I decided Hey, driving in the snow on bald tires might be a road hazzard. 

So, I waited four hours for new tires (everybody else came to the same decision on the same day, it seems).

But the best part is the name of the tires: BLIZZAK!

And if you buy more than one, you get to say BLIZZAKS!

BLIZZAKS! BLIZZAKS! BLIZZAKS!

(my life is full of small--tiny--pleasures)