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)