Happy Southern Hemisphere Hoodie Hoo Day

As I'm sure you ALL know, tomorrow is Southern Hemisphere Hoodie Hoo Day.

Long awaited by our Southern-half friends, August 22 is the day to go outdoors at high noon and yell "Hoodie Hoo!" to chase away winter and help usher in spring (no, really). And as silly as that sounds, I for one am so done with winter by the time January 1st rolls around that, if I thought it would help, I would be Hoodie-Hooing like a boss all day long until the Evil Cold had retreated back to wherever it goes during the Happy Warmer Months. I mean, once the holiday season is over is there really any point to winter? I think not. If you want to wear cute sweaters and boots and Curl Up With Your Boo Next To A Roaring Fire While Michael Buble Plays Softly In the Background, fall can successfully accomodate you in all of those areas. If you want to ice skate, you can do it indoors year-round. And if you want to make a snow man, simply do it between Thanksgiving and New Years.

While those of us in the Northern Hemisphere are not preparing to transition from winter into spring, we are getting ready to bid a Very Fond Farewell to summer. With this in mind, here are Five Ways You Can Shout "Hoodie Hoo!" (except please please also do it in the traditional way, because it's funny) And Prepare To Welcome Autumn Into Your Midst. But, please hold off your Hoodie-Hooing for a few weeks, as I am not ready for Maxi Dress Weather and 9PM Sunsets to go away yet. Thankyouverymuch.


Watch "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown"

Obviously.

Light Fall-Scented Candles Which Includes But Is Not Limited To Anything With "Harvest", "Spiced", Or "That Smell When People Burn Leaves Outside" In The Name

Apple and Pumpkin and Cinnamon, OH MY!  Click the link below to check out the newest fall fragrances from Yankee Candle. And then lament over the current lack of pie in your house. http://www.yankeecandle.com/whats-new/new-fragrances

Make Fall-ish Type Food So That Your Noms May Know No Bounds

Like pie! As well as chili and stews, breads, spiced cakes and cookies, cider, and Pumpkin Anything. All leading up to the Blessed Climax Of The Fall Food Frenzy which is, of course, sweet potato casserole Thanksgiving Dinner. IHEARTTHANKSGIVINGDINNER.

Check out one of my most favorite fall chili recipes. If, like me, you only enjoy a Moderate Amount Of Spiciness in your food then you may want to half the chili powder. If, like my husband, you enjoy Very Spicy Things, then put in the whole amount. And, for the love of GOD, even if you Never Ever Drink Alcohol, please don't leave the beer out. Please. http://cheaphealthygood.blogspot.com/2008/02/comfort-me-with-chili.html

Go Through Your Fall Wardrobe And Figure Out Who You Want To Keep And Who Is Getting Cut From The Team.

If you would like some guidance, here are a handful of things that will be Trendy this fall: Barouque-styled things, capes and cloaks, cozy sweaters, leather skirts, school-girl styles, colbalt blue and oxblood, tartan/plaid, peplums, colored jeans, knee high boots, hats, and hardcase handbages. If you provide me with a picture of yourself rocking all of these trends simultaneously I will be your best friend or at the very least send you some Lindor chocolate truffles. Actually, the truffles are probably the better of the two options. But, anyway.

Go Apple Picking (Even Though Its Easier And Slightly Cheaper To Get Them From The Store) Because They Are (Probably) Extra Tasty When Picked Straight From The Orchard And Its Fun To Show Off Your Amazing Apple Selecting Skills So Shut Up

I rather enjoy the Orchard Fruit Picking Experience, and highly recommend the Carters Mountain Orchard here in Cville if you too would like to pick your own fruit. Carters Mountain, in addition to having lots of Trees With Tasty Fruit On Them, has a great store, delicious refreshments, a wine shop, friendly staff, and a great view from the mountain top. I would suggest bringing a Not Heavy Person with you because, sometimes, the best-looking fruit is higher up on the trees and you need someone that is light enough for you to hoist. Make sure they're an Okay Climber. http://www.cartermountainorchard.com/

Hoodie Hoo!

Don't Forget: Lock The Door

I did something last night that I never ever do (ever). I went to bed with the door unlocked.

This was not intentional. In fact, it usually stays locked 24/7 because, despite my relatively idyllic childhood, I am Obscenely Paranoid & Untrusting. Even though I know we always keep the door locked I will still normally ask Hubby if he's SURE it is locked (since he's usually the last one home) right before we fall asleep, unless I know for a fact I double checked it myself. And if his answer sounds anything less than 137% confident I will get up and check, even though I detest getting out of bed after I'm already under the covers but I figure it's less horrific than getting murdered. Maybe.

One may deduce from my behavior that we live in a Very Scary Place. According to the Apartment Review Websites you will get shot and killed at least once per week if you are stupid enough to reside in our complex but, personally, I think all that stuff is made up by people trying to cause the complex to lose business because they're bitter about the fact that it takes about 3.87 years to get your broken dishwasher replaced. It's a rather highly-populated complex and, in that respect, I guess the potential for violent crime is increased, but I have lived here a year and in that time have never encountered anyone I had an issue with. Mostly because I Say No To Drugs and keep my door locked 24/7.

The thing is, that particular evening, it didn't occur to me to double check the door before bed, or grill Hubby about it before we fell asleep, so I drifted off in utter peace, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in the midst of a Very Dangerous Situation (dun dun dun). Nothing happened, obviously, and 99 (or even 100) times out 100 it probably wouldn't - but had I known the door was unlocked while I was trying to fall asleep, I would have been a legitimate wreck. How do I know this?

This past year, Hubby would often get up at the Butt Crack Of Dawn to go to PT or something else equally horrible to do at the Butt Crack Of Dawn which is anything other than sleep or eat pie. He was normally good about locking the door behind him and I appreciated this since, as previously mentioned, I wasn't trying to get out from under my covers to go lock the door ordoanythingelseforthatmatter. One particular morning though, as I heard the door open and close, my ears failed to register the click of the deadbolt which was my All Clear Signal and invitation to go back to sleep for another several hours knowing that I was safe and soundin a locked apartment.That's because the deadbolt never turned. I was not in fact safe and sound in a locked apartment - I was in the midst of a Very Dangerous Situation (dun dun dun).


On that particular morning it was exceptionally cold. I toyed with the idea of not getting out of bed to lock the door and just assuming that I was going to be fine. I toyed with it pretty darn hard. No, I thought, I just need to get up and lock it, it will take 30 seconds. That's when my cat, Gabriel, jumped onto the bed, curled up next to me, and started purring. Let me stop here.

I don't know why, but a soft, warm, snuggly, purry kitty cuddling into me while I'm lying in bed is about the Most Relaxing Enjoyable Experience Ever In Life. It puts me under a spell (no, really) and I seriously can't get out of bed (seriously). And, even if I could, Gabriel might have jumped down as well and not felt like coming back up and then I would have missed out on the Most Relaxing Enjoyable Experience Ever In Life. And I couldn't live with that.

This is the predicament I found myself in on that chilly, weekday morning. It was decided that I would not get up to lock the door. As I laid there with Gabriel for a minute or two, becoming further hypnotized by his Purry Voodoo Magic, I thought, "This isn't so bad". I felt like a BAMF of epic proportions. Suddenly, I heard a Strange Noise and my heart started to pound out of my chest. OHMYGOD. Somebody is breaking in RIGHTTHISSECOND (except they don't even have to break in because the DOOR IS ALREADY UNLOCKED for them). I was fairly confident Hubby had taped a giant note to the door that read, "Attention all Thieves, Kidnappers, Murderers, Rapists, Lunatics, Rabid Wolves, Marilyn Manson or anyone else who considers themselves to be Scary Beyond All Reason: There is a Small & Defenseless Woman in here and I forgot to lock the door, so, have it. P.S. We also have Very Ginormous Flatscreen TV that you might be interested in as well." I was utterly and completely petrified. I heard the same noise again and, this time, realized that it was coming from the ceiling. The Elephant People who live above us and Never, Ever Sleep were on the move. Sigh. I had never been so happy to hear them clomping around.

Seconds later, I heard another sound and, this time, it definitely wasn't The Elephant Show. My mind immediately began to race as I attempted to determine what Weapons Of Self Defense I could reasonably access without having to walk past the front door. Anything on the other side of the apartment was out, which meant no knives, frying pans, or couch pillows. I had some pepper spray in my purse, but was my purse in my bedroom or by the front door? There was also, of course, my book of C.S. Lewis quotes/excerpts which is actually the Largest Book Of All Time. And I had nail clippers and tweezers in the bathroom which all of the airlines unanimously agree are Legitimate Weapons. The decision was putting too much pressure on me, so I just I pulled the covers up higher and clutched them around me as tightly as I could. I think we would all agree that bedcovers are basically like having our very own Invisibility Cloak, which is why we think know that being under them will successfully ward off Very Scary People and/or Things. Except I was still freaked out of my mind.

Moments passed. I was both Very Very Sleepy and Unbelievably Jacked-Up On Adrenaline which is a preposterously uncomfortable feeling. I'm fine, I thought. I'm fine. No one else in their right mind is even up this early in the morning. Very Scary People need sleep too. My thoughts were then interrupted by what I could have sworn was the door knob turning. I was paralyzed with fear. My life flashed before my eyes and, in that moment, the Spell lifted from body. With the moves of a jungle cat, I was off the bed and on the other side of the room in one swift, silent motion. I realized that my purse was, indeed, in the bedroom so I grabbed my pepper spray, unlocked it, and poised my finger over the button, prepared to open up a can of whoopass on the Vicious Murdering Rabid Wolf Kidnapping Marilyn Manson Rapist Thief Lunatic. I quickly realized there was no one else in the house but myself and the cats. So, I ran toward the door like my life depended on it (which it, obviously, did), locked the door, and raced back to my bed so quickly that I slammed my leg into the side of it and said a Very Bad Word. Then, I jumped under the covers, pulled them up high, and clutched them around me as tightly as I could. And, finally, now that I was both Invisible and Safe & Sound In A Locked Apartment, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Moral of the story: Ignorance is bliss. And, say no to drugs.

Attack of the Hot Lava Dog Vomit

I am a nanny for a wonderful family with a dog. Oribi is an extremely sweet Labradoodle who loves playing, napping, going for walks, having her butt scratched, and fishing food droppings from the seat of the high chair. And also throws up sometimes. Attending to this when necessary has never been an Issue Of Monumental Proportions. Being a pet owner myself, and especially a nanny, I am exceedingly accustomed to having to rid my surrounding area of vomitrocious disgusting crap, such as vomit, diarhhea, urine, snot, drool, unwanted bodily fluids. Today, however, did not bring with it an Ordinary Amount Of Bodily Fluids That Needed To Be Cleaned Off Of Wherever They Happened To Land - today brought all that it could carry...and then some.

I arrived this morning to learn that Oribi had recently vomited in one of the upstairs bedrooms - no big deal. A couple of hours later, while we were in the playroom, she threw up again. Whatevs, it happens - a little Pepto, Ginger Ale, and Saltines, and she'd be good as new. This, however, was not the case.

Fast forward several hours. The kids are upstairs napping and I'm in the living room mindlessly entertaining myself and enjoying a break from the sound of my name. (You know the phrase, "that's my name, don't wear it out"? I'm relatively positive that some nanny, somewhere, coined it. And I'm pretty sure mine is actually worn out.) Anyway, there I was, completely engrossed in a magazine article on how to find the most flattering shoe for my foot shape, when Oribi wanders into the living room and steps onto the oriental rug. "Hi, Oribi", I say, as I reach my hand out offering to scratch her butt. She takes one step toward me, then stops in her tracks and starts heaving. At that moment, two thoughts enter my head: 1) I wouldn't have pegged myself as a pointy-toed shoe person, because my foot is already pretty narrow - maybe I should go back and read the first part of that article again to see if I misunderstood something. 2) Dog vomit + oriental rug = OHCRAP. I leap off the couch and rush to her side, gently but firmly trying to guide her off of the rug so that whatever comes up will land on the hard floor. After several seconds, I switched from Gentle Yet Firm to GETOFFTHISEFFINGRUGNOW (as much as could be done without hurting with her, at least) but she wasn't budging, and I sure as HEdoublehockeysticks wasn't strong enough to pick her up, so the situation seemed Inevitably Disastrous. As I stood there, trying to hear myself think over the sound of her dry heaving, it suddenly came to me - if I went to the kitchen and grabbed a paper plate, I could have her blow her cookies onto that and the rug could escape unharmed. Instantly, I took off toward the kitchen like a deranged cheetah swift-legged gazelle to apprehend the paper plate. With lightning speed, I fished it out of the cabinet and headed back towards the (potential) scene of the crime. The veryexactprecise second I darkened the doorway, clutching my green and white flowered Circle of Salvation, I saw the vomit drop onto the rug with a mocking "SLOP" sound. I stood there for a brief moment, looking back and forth between the plate and the vomit. Really?

Oh well, no use crying over spilled barf - the deed had been done; I decided to quickly use the bathroom before I started cleaning it up. Upon exiting the restroom, I was greeted by Oribi and three more piles of vomit - one on the high chair mat and two on the kitchen floor. Sigh. But, it wasn't her fault, and I really did feel bad for her. I decided to clean the rug first. I went and got the cleaner out from under the kitchen sink and made my way back to the living room, carefully avoiding the gigantic piles of Hot Lava Dog Vomit. I got the excess off of the rug with a paper towel and went to spray the cleaner, but nothing would come out. I realized it was practically empty, but had seen another bottle next to it in the cabinet. I got up and made my way back through the kitchen, examining the bottle (aka: not looking at the floor) as I went. Suddenly, I felt something cold and mushy under my left foot. I was desperately hoping that I had been bitten by some radio-active gelatin during the night and was now involuntarily manifesting my new ability to shoot Jell-o out of my feet. This, however, was not the case. I looked down, and my worst fears were confirmed - I had dog vomit all over the bottom of my foot; chunks and all. After cleaning up my own vomit, I washed off my foot, the rug (it was fine so no worries), the mat, and the floor and, thank goodness, Oribi didn't throw up again after that.

But, I still think it would be the shiz to be able to shoot Jell-o out of my feet.


Happy Monday.

Reflections on Aging, or Thirty Is The New One-Hundred

The term "old" is relative. A person who has been alive for ninety-five years, when the average human lifespan is only around eighty, could be considered old. A child of six years, who is still breastfeeding (WUTthecrap), could be considered old. And, a plus-sized woman of forty-five, who is convinced that she still looks just as Hawt in that neon tube top and spandex capri number as she did (?) in 1986, could be considered old. Age is just a number, they say - all that matters is how young you feel, right? Well, I am neither ninety-five, a Too Sexy For A Whole Outfit middle-aged woman, or a first-grader who thinks the terms 'straw' and 'nipple' are interchangable (didImentionWUTthecrap) - even so, lately, I have found myself afflicted with fleeting but alarmingly vivid moments of OHMYGOSHTHEAGINGMAKEITSTOP.

The feeling was comfortably sporadic until this month, when I had my 29th birthday - then, quite suddenly, it morphed into A Dilemma Of Epic Proportions. I am twenty-nine. TWENTYNINE. Which wouldn't be so disheartening in and of itself, but can only mean that the time is becoming increasingly imminent when I will be officially booted from the Twenty-Something club and, thus, required to relinquish all perks that come with its highly exclusive membership. (Except the jacket. They told me I could keep the jacket). The Twenties, it seems, is a particularly agreeable decade of life to find yourself in. Most people younger than that want to hurry up and get to their Twenties. Most people older than that would like to still be in their Twenties. The way I see it, it's because, as a Twenty-Something, you are basically old enough to do whatever the frack you want but still young enough to be generalized into an age group of people whose newest members were a teenager the year prior. It's the best of both worlds. It doesn't matter if you're twenty or twenty-nine, you are still a Twenty-Something - you are both young and adult. You are a Young Adult, the shizziest kind of paradox.

And here's where my Dilemma Of Epic Proportions comes in. Once I make the plunge into The Thirties, I will no longer be a Young Adult but will be magically transformed into a Real Live Adult. This is a matter of great concern.

For one thing, I'm already (usually) the oldest person present when the hubby and I hang out with a group of friends because, socially, I am not twenty-nine. For the most part, we end up hanging out with People Who Also Do Not Have Kids - this isn't necessarily on purpose, it just works out that way (thoughIhavetoadmitIdon'tmind). And, normally, those people are early to mid-twenties since, of course, many women have had their first child by the time they're on the brink of thirty (Idon'twannayoucan'tmakeme). Which is fine, since I am presently also a Twenty-Something, but what happens next year when all I have left of my Twenties is a cool jacket and some sweet tattoos? Will I be too old for my current social circles? It's not like I can just up and join a Mommy & Me group to make friends with Other Old People because, apparently, cats don't count as children WHYDON'TCATSCOUNT.

Also, does this mean I can no longer openly enjoy things that could be considered Somewhat Juvenile? The other day at Staples I bought a journal with a big picture of a kitty cat on the front of it - I needed a journal and I heart cats, so it seemed like a logical decision. And, one afternoon this week, I came home from work and watched The Emperor's New Groove (aka: Funniest Disney Movie Of All Time), by myself. When I was a teenager I would not have admitted to such things because, at that age, you still feel like you have to prove to people (including yourself) that you are Mature & Grown-Up. You opt for the journal with the plain leather cover and pass up the Disney cartoon for something Serious & Deep, because it makes you feel (and look, you hope) More Adult. You choke down coffee around other people, and are constantly burdened by an irrational fear that someone will discover you still wear Tweety Bird pajamas to bed. The Twenties are great, because you no longer have to do (or not do) anything to make yourself feel or look like the adult that you actually aren't - because, at long last, you are an Adult. You can wear silly clothes and read Twilight and listen to nothing but Justin Beiber all day and it doesn't matter - you are still (technically) an Adult. You don't have to prove anything to yourself or those around you, you don't have to do anything to make it more legit; it is what it is. But, how does it work in your Thirties? Does the stuff that you could shamelessly get away with in your Twenties suddenly become Weird & Off-Putting? Did I just buy my last kitty cat journal? These are the things I contemplate.

I'm convinced that when people are meandering between twenty-nine and thirty they switch into Dog Years Mode and actually age seven times faster than they have prior or ever will again. Which would explain why thirty is SO MUCH OLDER than twenty-nine (and why I've suddenly started to find it wickedly amusing to chase my cats around the house). But since this looming fate is, unfortunately, inevitable, I have decided to try to find the silver lining in my Cloud Of Calamity, and have come up with several reasons why being in my thirties might be (almost) as cool as being in my twenties (maybe).

1. "Peak"-a-Boo

I recently read somewhere that, statistically, women are perceived as their Most Attractive when they are thirty-one. Great, that takes care of one year.

2. I Don't Look My Age, or The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Except My Name Isn't Benjamin Button But Other Than That

Despite my Shockingly Old Age, I actually look like I'm about seventeen (true story: last year, I got mistaken for a freshman in high school - two different times. Thanks?). Normally, when people whom I'm meeting for the first time find out how old I am they are visibly flabbergasted. The conversation usually goes something like this:

Me: "My husband blahblahblah".
Them: "Oh, you're married? ...Really?"
Me: "Yes...?"
Them: "How long have you been married?" (expecting me to say, "oh, about five minutes")
Me: "Four years."
Them: "OH, wow! Um...how old were you when you got married?"
Me: "Thirteen, why? (Basically) twenty-five."
Them: "Wait...what? HOW old are you?"

And so on. Whatevs, it's been happening for as long as I can remember, and it used to bother me - but can you imagine how much funnier it will be when I can tell people, "Oh yeah, I'm thirty." The shock factor will be increased by exponential proportions (since thirty sounds/is in fact SOMUCHOLDER than twenty-nine), and I might derive even more amusement from it than I have from chasing my cats around the house this past month.

3. That's all I've got, sorry. But, if you have anything else I can add to the list, I'm all ears. Hurry though, because my ears may not be working much longer. You know, old age and all.

                                                   Happy Thursday.

The Eight Deadly Sins of Facebook

(Disclaimer: Even if you know you do something(s) mentioned in the list below, I promise I don't hate you. The majority of us have probably all been guilty of at least one of these things in one instance or another, and this is all in good fun. There. Glad we got that out of the way.)

We all know them. Maybe some of us, at one point or another, have even been One of Them. You know who I'm talking about - that person whose Facebook posts are so obnoxious that we keep them on our friends list either because we know if we delete them it will be become A Thing (thank you, Unsubscribe button), or because we still want to be able to see their posts so we can laugh about them and pat ourselves on the back for being cool enough to know better than to post such Ridiculous & Unnecessary Material on our social network of choice (hold on, I'll be right back, I need to update my status so everyone knows what flavor of food my cats had for supper).

Okay, I'm back. Anyway, the truth of the matter is, each person has the right to post whatever they want on their own Facebook page - it's their page, and they aren't forcing anyone to be on their friends list and, thus, expose themselves to any unwanted viewing material (unless, of course, it's their boyfriend/girlfriend, because if they can't put that they're "in a relationship" with that person then, really, is there any solid foundation for said relationship to build on in the first place? I think not). The point is, if someone doesn't like what you post on your page, they don't have to be subscribed to your posts, or even be on your friends list for that matter (in most cases) - but, really, who wants to be That Person Everyone Is Unsubscribed From Because They Might Possibly Be The Most Annoying Person Ever On Facebook ?

In light of this undesirable fate that is currently afflicting countless of people across the nation, and around the world, I have compiled a list of the Eight Deadly Sins of Facebook (I know the Bible only had seven deadly sins but it's Facebook and, yes, it's That Serious). As you read through the following items, pause to reflect on whether you recognize yourself in one or more (all? shudder.) of them and, then, know that those of us on The Other Side are rooting for you should you seek to make some positive changes in your future Facebook activity. Or, if you don't find yourself recently guilty of any of the transgressions listed below, just enjoy chuckling at the people who will most surely pop into your head, and consider educating them on Proper Social Network Etiquette by sharing this post with them at your earliest convenience.

I may want to unsubscribe from/block/delete you after being tempted to stick Something Sharp & Unpleasant in my eye if you are a repeat offender in one or more of the following areas:


1. Drama

An obvious one, albeit, but it has to be said. No one needs to relive middle school or high school and, if we really want to, that's what DeGrassi is for. Savethedramaforyourmama or your Teen Angst-Ridden Television Series of choice.


2. TMI

"TMI", in this case, suggests one of two things. It can either mean "Wow, I'm not sure I wanted to know all the intimate details of your cousin's STD, but thanks.", or it can mean, "I wonder if she's alright, because she hasn't updated her status in about 15 minutes and I'm now slightly concerned. Let me give her a cal--oh, wait, never mind--she just posted something." Regardless, it always means TOO MUCH INFORMATION. Keep the private, intimate details of your life how they're supposed to be (hint: private & intimate), and resist the urge to alert the media every time you, your kid, yo mama, yo daddy, or yo bald headed granny even remotely change activities. It's not that serious.



3. Attention Whoring

You are definitely might be an Attention Whore if you have posted a status similar to one or more of the following in the recent past:

"I just uploaded 197 pics of myself, COMMENTS PLS!!!" When you consider the amount of time it requires to take 197 'acceptable' mirror pics with your cell phone, upload them all to Facebook, and put a Dashboard Confessional lyric caption under each one, it seems like it would make more sense just to skip all the aforementioned steps and post something like, "Hey, I'm feeling a little insecure today, so if you could leave a comment under this status telling me how cute/gorgeous/pretty/beautiful/hot/bootilicious you think I am, that would be swell." Honest and to the point, plus, not having to scroll through A Mind-Bogglingly Excessive Amount Of Duck Lips Self-Portraits saves everyone precious time that they can use to watch Mad Men episodes on Netflix. We all win.

"I don't think I have a lot of true friends on here who actually read my posts so, if you are really my friend, 'like' this post, leave a comment underneath saying what you ate for breakfast the day that you met me, then repost this status. For those of you who don't, I'll know where I stand with you (aka: the next time I see you I'll be super awkward and stand-offish and will refuse to tell you what's bothering me when you ask because, really, how could you not know)."


"I just can't take it anymore. I've hit rock bottom. Things can't get any worse. Don't ask what's going on and, no, I don't wanna talk about it - it's way too personal and, besides, I don't want the attention." If you don't want to talk about it, and you don't want anyone to know about it, then what was the point of posting it in the first place? Oh right, because you "don't want the attention".

"I'm so bored" (...7 minutes later...) "Still SO bored" (...5 minutes later...) "SO SO SO bored" (...3.5.minutes later...) "NEVER BEEN SO BORED IN MY WHOLE LIFE" (...2.14 minutes later...) "Still bored" (...etc..) Cool story, bro. Tell it again.

"I can't believe that happened at work today!" or "Totally didn't see this one coming..." or "I wish I could take it back." etc. aka: I am purposely omitting crucial information from my status in hopes of procuring some warm & fuzzy comments from Concerned Friends because, apparently, I don't realize how obvious and sad that is. aka: "Vaguebooking"



4. Excessive Political Propaganda

I get that People Who Are Into Politics often feel very passionately about their opinions, especially in the case of a presidential election. It is a big deal, and the way that other people vote will ultimately affect you since you will have to sit under whichever president is elected just like everyone else will. And, Facebook really is a great platform to utilize when you want to make Very Important Information available to 473 of your closest friends all at once. Thatbeingsaid. I do not need, nor desire, to see 27 posts per day related to your political candidate of choice (this is including but not limited to statuses, video clips, and Catchy Campaign Slogans underneath Epic-Looking Pictures of their head photo-shopped onto a bald eagle) which may or may not be accompanied by 27 more posts that talk about all the reasons why the opposing candidate is The Devil (along with foosball, Ben Franklin, and little girls, of course). If I want to see An Unnecessary Amount of Political Propaganda Squeezed Into The Tiniest Block Of Time Possible then I'll watch something on Hulu, thankyouverymuch.

I'm Sara Forrest, and I approve this message.


5. Old Skool Txt Tlk

Typing lk this is gr8 & all but cn get ann0ying after a whl 2 th0se who hv 2 read it. D0n't u c h0w this c0uld b irritating if sum1 d0es it ALLthetime? D0ing it in a txt msg or on a lcnse plate is 1 thing but when ur typing sumthing out on the internet it's m0re asthetically pleasing 2 others if u just type ur w0rdz out nrmlly, w/ all the ltrs present & acc0unted 4. Jst syn k? L8r.


6. Manipulative 'Share This If You Love Jesus Otherwise You Are Declaring To The Entire (Facebook) World That Satan Is Your Homeboy' Statuses and/or Pictures.

I have no beef with someone 'liking' Jesus on Facebook. I also take no issue with someone posting a "Share This If Jesus Is Your Superhero!" picture of a cartoon Jesus sporting a superman-esque "JC" on his not very superman-esque robe. People 'like' and show support for things on FB all the time (Chick Fil-A, Amazon...Nickelback), and neither of the two examples mentioned above are things meant to manipulate or induce guilt in anyway. But, let's get one thing straight. I do not I repeat do not have to validate my relationship with and/or love for Jesus by reposting a manipulative status or a picture of him crying on a unicorn with the text for Mathew 10:32 beneath it in Large & Intimidating Font, and if you truly believe otherwise then that's your issue, not mine. To be honest, if my relationship with him was really based on such shallowness and not on, you know, stuff that actually matters, I'm not sure I would hold it in very high regard anyhow so, either way, I'mnotrepostingthedamnthingthanks. Luckily for me, Jesus doesn't give a rat's derriere about all that poppy cock, mostly because he's too busy wanting us to share his message in a way that's relevant, effective, and Not Weird.

All this to say, if you happen to post something like that at any point in the future and notice that I am online at the time but have neglected to repost, don't waste any valuable energy worrying about the state of my soul. I'm alright. But, since it would be rude to completely ignore your post, I will be sharing this picture in response:

7. Make-Out Pictures

One word: Thatisunnecessarynottomentiondisgustingwhereisyourmother


8. Sending Multiple Game App Requests To People Who Don't Play The Game

I get sending a request to a non-player the first time. Maybe they've never heard of the game before and would possibly enjoy it, or maybe they've been meaning to check it out but keep forgetting, and then when they see your request they're all, "How convenient. I've been meaning to check this game out, but keep forgetting". This is perfectly acceptable to do - once or twice. If you've sent multiple (aka: daily) requests that have been ignored or declined, then it's probably safe to assume that person is not interested. And for the love of all that is holy, if you see that I do not play Farmville, do not send 17 different requests asking me to till your dang field or buy you a cow. You shouldn't even be permitted to send app requests like that to people who don't play the game. PLEASESTOP.



So, those are my Eight Deadly Sins of Facebook. Is there anything you would add to or remove from the list if it was yours? Inquiring minds want to know.

Happy Facebooking, and Happy Tuesday.

Top Ten Fav's From the Month of June

Top Ten Favorite Things from the Month of June:

 1. Anthony Returning From Field Training, or The Day I Got My Sanity Back

These ten things are in no particular order but, if they were, this one would still be numero uno. Anthony was gone for four weeks (or a month, whichever sounds longer and more heart wrenching)  at Air Force ROTC Field Training or, as I like to call it, the Evil Land Of No Phone Or Internet Access. Field Training is basically a place where officer trainees get to apply some of what they've learned thus far in the program, get a taste of what it's like to be deployed, and prove they have what it takes to hack it as an officer in United States Air Force. And that they can shower, eat a full meal, get their living quarters inspection-ready, and run five miles in exactly 90 seconds while being screamed at by Scary Guys in Intimidating Sunglasses. I was really glad he had such a great time, but ohdearLordImissedthatman. Having him home again has literally been the greatest thing since boxed mac & cheese and I also learned I am actually his fourth wife, an oversight I'm glad has been brought to light after all this time.

2. Long Weekend in G-town       

While Anthony was gone I went to Gloucester for a long weekend and got to see lots of family & friends. I also scored some great maxi dresses for $15 bucks at TJ Maxx and got served by the Hottest Waiter Ever at Red Robin.

3. My Nephew Was Born

This blessed event happened to take place during my long weekend in Gloucester (yayayay) but it deserved it's own place in the Top Ten, for obvious reasons (Hottest Waiter Ever declined the slot). Drayden Reed graced us with his presence about 7:00 on Saturday morning, June 2, after a sleepless night of hospital chairs, vending machine snacks, and ohmygoshWHYdidwegethereat2AM. And, thanks to my rebel mother, who told the doctor that the hospital could take their No Filming the Birth In Case We Do Something Stupid rule and feed it to their donkey, there is now video evidence of the whole shebang.      

 Now's the part where you get to admire how cute my nephew is.

4. "Heaven Is Here"

My MIL gave me a great book she had recently finished called "Heaven is Here", a memoir written by Stephanie Nielsen (mother of four and only a few years older than me), who was in a small plane crash with her husband and sustained burns over 80 (yes, EIGHTY) percent of body Her story recounts the details of her idyllic life leading up to the crash, her physically and emotionally harrowing recovery process, and how she was able to find her joy again. It was one of those books that I finished in about a minute because it was hard to put down, and I recommend it to anyone looking for a good, easy read or for something to make themselves realize how lame most of the stuff they complain about really is and how many seemingly insignificant (though, actually, Highly Significant) things they take for granted on a daily basis. Yajerks.

5. Aeropostale Polos

 Aeropostale had their polos marked way down because, apparently, they're a Fall Item but, being the rebel that I am (thanks, Mom), I decided I would rock some this summer. Not only did they have basically every color ever created by God or man, they had several different styles AND they actually rang up lower than the marked clearance price, which was already very acceptably low imo. An Interesting Thing I discovered whilst trying them on was that the large (this is not a typo) actually fit more to my liking than a medium or small, which pretty much never happens with any item of clothing ever because I am destined to be eternally housed in the body of a twelve year-old. Granted, I'm a lessthanayearawayfrom30 year-old who was shopping at store designed for People Who May Or May Not Be Old Enough To Drive but, still, it was weird. Anyway though, the shirts are great and I love how polos can give a casual look a slightly sharper, sportier edge without it looking like you're trying. And, without it being painfully obvious that you still shop at stores whose target age demographic you exceeded about 10 or 15 years ago.

 6. "Snow White & the Huntsman"

Here are my thoughts on SW&TH:
- I really enjoyed the landscapes/scenery, special effects/cinematography in general, and minor characters such as the Band Of Dwarves, the Fairytaleish Woodland Creatures, and the Weirdass Mirror.
- Charlize Therone makes a BAMF wicked queen.
- One word: eyecandyofthemalepersuasiontimestwo
- It was fun to compare Kristen Stewart's Snow White to her Bella Swan - and, really, not that difficult.

7. Sperrys

OHMYSperrys. I had never owned a pair of Sperrys prior to last month, but I do now and I love them LOVETHEM. Plus, I now fit perfectly into the college town I hail from, where "Do you own or are you planning to soon purchase one or more pairs of Sperry foot ware?" is one of the first questions on the university's admissions application.

8. Library Card

I got a LIBRARY CARD. Commonly used to CHECK OUT BOOKS FROM THE LIBRARY and READ THEM FOR FREE. How I managed to live here this long without procuring one of these devices is beyond me but, since the situation has been rectified, I guess it doesn't really matter. Now I can read All The Books and, hey, do you know who Library Card's initials remind me of?

9. Season Premiers, or Vampires + Gordon Ramsey = A Bloody Good Time

The answer to #8's trivia question is none other than Alcide (pronounced, basically, like LC), one of True Blood's most eligible werewolves. True Blood's 5th season premiered in June, and things are already hella crazy in Bon Temps. Master Chef & Hell's Kitchen (both Gordon Ramsey shows) also had season premiers air last month and I love that they are still showing new episodes of each one back to back two days in a row. If I had to compare Gordon as a Master Chef judge to an original AI judge, I would say he's Randy (Joe & Graham are definitely Simon & Paula, respectively), but on Hell's Kitchen, he's just Very Scary. I love him and his Very British Accent on both shows, although Master Chef is my favorite show between the two.
                         

                             




10. Community, or We're The Only Species On Earth That Observes Shark Week
I'm sure that, with all these great long-time favorite shows coming back around last month, one would assume that I had no time with which to discover any new material for my viewing pleasure. Ha. Enter, Community, a sitcom about a group of unlikely friends from the same community college Spanish class that band together during a fake study group meeting. I don't know what to say, you just have to watch it. We've been watching it on Hulu.              

                                             

Anyway, those were my Top Ten Things from the month of June, as best as I could recall them. Stay tuned for July's Top Ten next month.

Happy Friday the 13th. Here is a picture of a black cat to make all you superstitious people feel super uncomfortable.

Gabriel

Never Have I Ever: Made Cake Pops With A Three Year-Old Or Myself For That Matter

There's something about infomercials.

As over-the-top and grossly exaggerated as many of them are (really, if your legs look like you just lost a knife fight with a dwarf everytime you get done shaving then your problems most likely extend beyond that which can be eliminated exclusively by using Nair), we still watch them. Generally, it's because we just can't sleep and nothing else is on after 3AM because the slick gimicky Infomercial People know that we are more vulnerable when we're tired and thus More Susceptible To Buying Into Someone Inventing A Problem We Don't Have So They Can Sell Us Something We Don't Need That May Or May Not Actually Remedy Aforementioned Imaginary Problem. All for three easy payments of $49.95.

The main selling point of the "Easy Toothbrush" is that a square toothbrush does not I repeat does not work for a human's circular mouth. In fact, it makes the brushing process akin to cleaning your teeth with a tiny square-shaped bed of nails and turns it into a mind-bogglingly difficult task  that should only be attempted by Navy SEALs and/or Chuck Norris - but, don't lose heart. Brushing your teeth can become as Easy & Luxurious as napping in a hammock on a warm, breezy day if thou wouldst merely switcheth to the Easy (aka circular) Toothbrush. Eth. Now, let me go on record and say that I have nothing against the idea of a circular toothbrush. At all. But, if I do ever happen to purchase one (from BB&B, not for three easy payments of $49.95), it sure as HEdoublehockeysticks won't be because I was too incompetent to properly use a standard-shaped one.

Perhaps, at times, it's because (all Tiredness-Related Vulnerability aside) we're genuinely facinated by the product being advertised howdoesitDOTHAT?:

 Oxi Clean is legit, I don't care who you are.

And, sometimes, it's because the infomercial itself is so fracking hilarious that, for a brief, delicate moment, nothing else matters in life:

For double the laughs, insert the name for a certain male organ in place of the word "sponge"...trust me.

When infomercial products find themselves in a local store near you, and enough of them matriculate to the same place over time, we end up with what is referred to as the As Seen On TV section (and, if those products fall in love with one another, get married, and reproduce, they can even make up an entire STORE, which you know as the As Seen on TV store whichIhavetoadmitIkindoflike). This section of Bed Bath & Beyond is where I found myself on Sunday afternoon (they put it right by the registers to lure you in justsaying) and, alas, one final item was added to my cart before I made my purchases. I give you....the Tasty Top Cake Pops Kit (as seen on TV, of course).

I bought it to use with J, the little girl I nanny for, and my boss reimburses me for that kind of stuff so the decision was, in this case, an easy one. J loves to bake, and I figured she'd enjoy doing something a little different since we almost always do muffins, cupcakes, or something of that nature (I know you don't HAVE to have the kit to make cake pops, but I would have had to buy the sticks for them anyway and, plus, the silicone baker thingy doubles as a holder which I would have also had to procrue, so hushyourmouth.) Plus, cake pops are cool and cute and made of CAKE and you get to EAT THEM OFF OF A STICK. And don't tell Billy Mays, Godresthissoul, but I only had to make one easy payment of $9.99. Huzzah.

This was not only sure to be a New & Exciting Baking Endeavor for J but for myself as well, as I was a cake pop virgin prior to today (I was able to fit the sticks into the little holes just fine though, so no worries).

Here's how it all went down.

We prepared a boxed cake mix (Betty Crocker Yellow) according to the instructions.

Notice the cute little whisk with the piggy handle

Then we filled the silcone base with the prepared batter, like so:

It only took about a 'spoon-tip' of batter to fill those teeny tiny cups

Then we snapped the top on and baked them at 375.

Fifteen minutes later we had cake...balls. (Soon to be cake pops!)

This next step was of monumental importance and pretty much vital to the success of our pops.

We melted a small amount of the chocolate candy coating (in the microwave per the instructions on the package, muy quick and easy) swirled the top of each stick in it, and immediately stuck a stick inside each one of the cake balls - then we let the chocolate set. This gave the stick and cake ball the opportunity to becomeBFF's fuse together prior to us dipping the cake ball into the chocolate coating and, thus, the cake ball actually stayed on the stick during that process instead of falling off into the chocolate which would have been Not What Was Supposed To Happen.

At this point, we have officially graduated from being cake balls to cake pops:

I'm a REAL boy.

Now for the coating/decorating. We melted more chocolate candy coating in the microwave (we did this until it was JUST melted instead of hot, it sets quicker that way so you don't have to be the Most Patient Person Ever and let the excess chocolate drip off for 20 minutes after you dip the pop). Immediately after the excess chocolate would finish dripping off, we would place the freshly-coated pop into the holder and give it a generous sprinkling of sprinkles.

Let the coating harden, and then...

THIS.

These are not professional quality by any stretch of the imagination but they served their purpose, which was to entertain a three year-old and a 29 year-old simultaneously and provide us with yummy Hump Day noms.


Happy Wednesday.