50 Shades of Crimson....

Holy Crap! It has been a long time since my last post...I could blame the long writers gap on my Birthday, more colds, or just plain laziness, but the real reason is....I have been reading...like a lot. My poor little Kindle is on FIRE from the hours of usage...I feel kind of like a Kindle abuser (sigh)...well not really, but the poor little thing has logged in a lot of hours of use within the last 60 days. I don't know what has come over me...I think it all started with the need to real all 3...yes all 3 Hunger Games books. Can I tell you that they were fabulous? I am really not the type of person that reads that type of fiction, but I have to say that I was like on pins and needles reading every single page as I held my breath and eagerly paged forward to see what was going to happen next. I was so enthralled with the books, that I could not make myself go see the movie as I was afraid that it would disappoint; I hate to be disappointed. :) Once I finished with those books, I downloaded some Kindle Freebies just to have something that my little Kindle could do...anyhoo so let's just fast forward to the last three weeks. It all started with an article in Entertainment Weekly talking about the phenom with the trilogy of 50 Shades of Grey. I have to tell you all in blogger land...I had NO idea that this type of fiction existed. Being the follower that I am, I had to see what the hype was all about soooooo I downloaded the book. Yikes! I was hooked at like page 10...what girl/woman would not be hooked? Seriously? Christian Grey is like every girls dream guy and the story line...WHEESH! I was like turning every shade of crimson just reading the pages...it was not like anything that I had ever read before, and the love scenes, WOW...let the heart palpitations begin. I was so intrigued by the twisted storyline, that of course, I had to down load book 2 and 3, so that I knew how the story ended. To say that the storyline (romantic BDSM) was intriguing would be totally underselling the novel...did I think that Christian Grey was a dreamy, sadistic, control freak? Why yes...I certainly did...but that was the beauty of the story...the not so beauty got to tame the beautiful beast, and we as readers get to reap the benefits of reading about their sadistic love story. Well now that I have finished the last book, my blogging neglect should come to an end...well until I find another steamy novel to catch my fancy. To be quite honest with you all, I don't think that my Kindle could take another Trilogy like 50 Shades...I know that it is going to take some time for me to come back to reality...hmmm....well I can still dream right? ;)

Just One of Those Days...

 

I am having one of the worst days ever! I mean one of those days where you are like...”I should have never gotten out of bed today because my day has been so crappy” days! It all started with the all elusive alarm clock...you know that trusty thing that is supposed TO WAKE YOU UP? Yeah in theory it is a great invention, the only glitch is that it is not child proof! So my daughter apparently was playing with the alarm clock...now you all in cyber blogging land are all like “why in the hell would you let your 2 year old play with your alarm clock?” Yeah...well my husband was watching her...need I say more? I had no idea that she was farting around with my alarm clock, so stupid me, does not check the time of the alarm, I just set it like I normally do, and then pass out. You know when you wake up, and you are like “...hmmm I wonder what time it is?” and then you roll over blink a couple of times because you are still trying to focus on those bright blue digital lights that are flashing at you, and as you focus on what appears to be a 7 instead of a 5, you kind of start wig out as the realization hits that you are sooooo freaking late? Bingo...that is what happened to me this morning! Why is it that every time you are in a hurry everything takes so much longer to do? I swear that it took me a butt load longer to get ready than I normally do, and when I go to get in the car, ah yeah, there is no gas in it! Really? I have to go on a husband rant here...why is it that whenever you have to get in your husband's car it NEVER has any gas in it? I mean this car was sooo low it was on like fumes, and I was like SERIOUSLY? So I squeal out of the drive way like my ass is on fire, all the while praying that I can make it to the gas station, and when I get there, of course there are NO lanes open! I am like beating the steering wheel at this point, and as I wait in line behind the slowest person on the planet, I am like tapping my fingers on the staring wheel, as I stare down the clock, all the while thinking how screwed I am that I am late! Finally the dude gets in his truck and so when I finally get to the gas pump and I put my ATM card in, I notice that there is a sign telling me that the pay at the pump is broken, so NOW I have to go inside to pay!? By this time, I am thinking to myself, that I must have really done something bad to someone or something to get this type of karma come my way! While contemplating all of the ill acts that I have done to people, and who might actually be a practicing voodoo priestess, I wait the 10 minutes to pay, and then finally get my gas. Thinking that the day, has to get better, I pull out of the gas station and proceed the whole 7 miles to work, and as I approach the freeway, I realize that the freeway is closed, and that I have to take a detour...yeah...they make me turn around and go back the way that I just came! By this time,. I am contemplating getting my own voodoo doll and just torturing myself...what the hell? I finally make it to work, and when I finally swoop into the work place, and try to settle down, I catch my nail on drawer, and break it so far down that it is now bleeding! At that very moment, I was at my last string of sanity, and as I sat there sucking on my finger, while I frantically searched through my purse for a band aid, I told myself that I should have NEVER got out of bed! If I told you that my day got any better, I would be a lying sack of crap because work is never fun, but the good thing is that my day is almost over, and as I close out this bloggary, I can safely say, that not one more bad thing can happen to me...well that is unless my computer takes a dump and I lose this lovely vent fest called a blog post! So if this is posted, you all in cyber blog land will know that at least my computer is dependable...thank God at least something worked in my favor today!

Crows Feet, Laugh Lines, and Botox O My!

OK...so my birthday is coming up...can I just say that I hate my birthday?! If we take a short walk down memory lane, I used to remember birthday's as being so exciting with the anticipation of “The Day” being a lot of excruciatingly long days filled with dreams of the new Strawberry Shortcake doll or a new pony! You just knew that on your day, a bunch of toys and birthday cake was coming your way, and usually on your birthday, the odds of getting your ass chewed was like a million to one. It was a great day. Let's fast forward to today....instead of a Coach bag, I will probably get some major appliance as my major birthday present; I have to say that getting a blender for your birthday is just not right...not right at all. Not to mention that the infamous birthday cake and I are definitely at odds since the Holiday Binge of 2011, and it is just a given that I will probably get my ass chewed at any given time, whether it is my birthday or not (family and managers have zero regard for birthday ass chewing etiquette), so seriously why bother? It is just another day right? I was trying to explain that very fact to my skin today as I was using that damn 20x mirror...those mirrors should be outlawed, BTW but with my eyes going to crap, an old fart needs to use the freaking' magnifying glass from hell just to put on eyeliner. What a depressing scene right? So as I was staring at my laugh lines in the mirror, all the while cursing the stupid Neutrogena anti wrinkle cream ad for selling me a bunch of lies ( there really is no such thing as rapid wrinkle repair...ask my forehead, it will tell you in great detail), I was trying to remember what young skin looked like...seriously...I am a nut job. I had to take a step back and chuckle because I was obsessing over it like a school girl crushes over the hot totally unavailable high school quarter back. I found myself thinking about my laugh lines throughout the day, and whenever I looked in a normal mirror, of course without any witnesses, I found myself nose to nose with it checking out the state of my old ass skin. I am a certifiable crazy person...just issue me an I Love Me jacket and I am right there with all of the other delusional wacko's. So, the elephant in the room question is...why am I obsessing over this aging thing? I should be happy that as I get older, my life is getting better right? I am definitely in a better financial situation than when I was in my 20's/30's', I have a great family, my daughter is awesome BUT I have to tell ya...the only time that anyone glances my way, is if I have cake on my face or my fly is down...it is definitely NOT because I have “my Jennifer Aniston on” ( that is my term for a certain hotness factor...Angelina Jolie is so 2010! Ha!) Honestly that is really what is bothering the crap out of me...I have come to the realization that it just goes down hill from here...I need to try to embrace my laugh lines, crows feet, and age spots with as much dignity as I can muster and with a little help from my facialist , I just might make it past my birthday without drinking myself into an age induced stupor; laying off the tequila would probably help my skin tone, but I am NOT seriously that desperate to give up martini's for the sake of a few crows feet! A girl's got limits...on the other hand, I might just have a full out hissy fit which would totally help out my mental state but would probably NOT be helping my anger brow problem ( those are what I cause those nasty forehead creases ). I will have to think on the ramifications of that approach...hmmmmmmm to hissy or not to hissy THAT is the real question. Yeah...I am betting on the full on hissy fit....so much easier...so much easier!

Seriously?

Men and Colds

OK...so my whole family is sick. I am not talking about just the sniffles here, I am talking about full bore coughing with a whole lot of phlegm. Gross...I know. A little too much over share there, but I have to let you know how bad the cold really is. My poor daughter is in the last stages of the cold, so I am pretty happy about that, but seriously....what is up with men when they get sick? So I am not saying that I am the super woman of colds here, like I can withstand any illness and still fight crime, but COME ON...it seems like men get the sniffles and all of the sudden, they can't pee without your help?! It appears that once men get the first sign that they are not feeling well, their wives become some sort of servant that has to cater to their every needs? It is almost like they have time traveled through some pathetic illness time traveling worm hole, and we have become their mother. It is all of the constant whining, and complaining about how crappy they feel, all the while we have to cater to their every needs just to shut them up. Some people would call that being an enabler...I call it shutting the poor fool up so I can get some peace! Oh and don't get me started on what starts to go down, if I even start to complain that I feel like crap because, you have to remember it is ALL about them. I only go down that rabbit hole when I am sooooo frustrated that I just cannot take it any more and I just snap. He gets the full force of my anger with some choice colorful language, combined with a couple of hand signals, and I can tell you that he gets the picture...and it is totally high definition, and in widescreen. I have just provided him the IMAX version of this picture with THX audio, and he is like”...I am sooooo sick and you are being so mean...” Seriously...are we five here. I feel like that bully on the playground beating up the fat kid...what the hell? Not to mention the constant bugging/begging for juice, medicine, blankets, the TV remote or whatever he is too lazy to go get up and get for himself. I know that I have hit the “rock bottom” of the illness when I sit there and watch him take pulls from the Nyquil bottle like it was a flask of Bubba moonshine from some illegal distillery in the deep south. To tell you that I am looking forward to him feeling better is an understatement...I am just waiting for him to start traveling back through the time traveling worm hole, where he is no longer whiny, cranky, and annoying...just back to being a dumb ass. Is that too much to ask? Seeing that he is still sick...apparently it is.

It's a New Year...Yay?!

Getting back into the swing of things...

So...it is a new year and normally with a new year comes the all dreaded New Year's resolution. Every year, I vow to make some crazy commitment to myself that I will either try to complete something or do something that I have been avoiding doing for years. It seems like every year, I try to commit myself to doing whatever crazy resolution I have decided to torture myself with. This year, like every year, I promise myself to try to lead a healthier life, get back to my old crazy treadmill (getting a new one for Christmas helped give that resolution a kick in the ass), and to also try to get back to writing. Writing and I have had a real love hate relationship, some days all I can do is write, but then there are some days, that lead to years where the thought of putting thoughts to paper just depresses me...some people call it writer's block but I feel that it is much more than that. I feel like my relationship with writing is like any relationship: there are the fabulous times where the obsession starts...writing is all that I can think about...it is in my very blood that courses through my body. It is in everything I see and do...I am pen to paper even at night when I am dreaming. I am drowning in it. Then like any good relationship, the obsession starts to fade, and as the writing fever starts to diminish, I become drawn to something else that seems to leave my writing on the back burner. As with any fading crush, the deep desire is still lingering back in the recesses; it just needs a trigger to bring it back to light. That trigger for me was yet again, the infamous "New Years Resolution"...so I vow to try to update this blog when the feeling arises. I can't make any promises that the spelling and grammar will be correct, or that I will consistently blog a thought on every Wed. of every week, but when the feeling arises, I will BLOG! Felt a little bit like Mel Gibson in Braveheart there...well when Mel was not a raving racist beating lunatic...this is a good start ( a little late) but a start never the less to a good blogging year! May the blogging begin!

What Not To Wear

OK...so I have been invited to various Christmas parties this year, and with those parties come the big question that I know every girl asks herself...what the hell should I wear?  What I really hate is invitations that read "Casual Attire"...I always have to wonder what exactly does that mean?  I have made the mistake of wearing jeans to an event that advertised "Casual Attire" only to find myself to be the only under dressed fool there...I hate that feeling.  This year, I had decided that I would be a grown up, and actually try to maybe find some middle ground attire for these said "Casual" events, and I found myself in multiple Ladies departments (just the fact that I shop in the Ladies department is depressing enough) at various department stores looking for appropriate grown up attire.  What did I find?  I found a bunch of retro 80's sweater dresses and leggings that just had my name written all over them.  Remembering how I used to fondly don myself in such attire was making me all sorts of giggly and happy about actually finding something that was in style, and would solve my casual attire needs.  With a smile on my face, I grabbed a bunch of leggings and sweater dresses and proceeded to head on in to the changing rooms.  I have to admit that I was pretty pleased with my decision to go retro for these parties, and with that in mind, I started to pull on those dark black leggings that I used to love...the key word here is "used" to love.  As I stood there trying to pull the skinniest leggings up over my middle aged thighs, I started to remember why I hated the 80's.  It appeared that I had pulled even my ankle fat (if that is possible for ankles to have fat) all the way up to my ass and when I yanked that sweater dress up on over the top of my now more hideous and obvious muffin top, I was scared to look in the mirror because I knew that even wearing all black was not going to hide what was going on inside this confining tube that was lovingly called a sweater dress.  Finding the courage to look at myself in the mirror, I gasped and then had to laugh...I looked like the Madonna version of the Michelin man.  Let's just all take a second to visualize that look...right...so after reality had hit me square in the face, I started to really digest what I was seeing.  Turning around to look at my butt, I noticed some weird pattern on my leggings, and as I repeatedly tried to smooth them out with my hands, I realized that the patterns were not going away...yeah...I was trying to smooth out the backs of my thighs that were being squished by the skin tight leggings.  Laughing at my hideous discovery, I took a step back to "take in" the whole look and realized that this look probably was not even a good one in the 80’s let alone try to pull it off 25 years later. I was back at square one as far as finding my “appropriate” casual party attire.  I had NO idea what I was thinking with the sweater dress....it seemed like a good plan at the time and I can safely tell you all that the TLC channel does not need to pull me aside to let me know What Not to Wear....I think that I found that statement out the hard way! 

20X Vanity Mirror

OK...so here is my first posting about my woes on getting older.  I was looking in my 20X mirror the other day and normally,  I just put my face in it and look at just one thing...like my eyes to put eyeliner on etc.  Well, this time I just happened to take a step back and look at the full picture.  Sheesh!  What a scare that was...I saw some things in that mirror that was just down right depressing.  Let's just say that I wasn't asking it "who was the fairest in the land " for fear that I might actually break the stupid thing with laughter!  Wholly Crap!  When did I get old?  It's not like just one thing is getting old...like there are wrinkles in places where wrinkles are just WRONG!  Again...how did  this happen?  After reality hit me about how I was nearing the age of the Crypt Keeper, I in a panic,  started looking for dermatologists that specialized in skin repair and conditioning on the good old Internet...like that was going to help my current situation.  I have to admit that by frantically searching the Internet for some type of magic youth serum in the form of an expensive dermatologist, I actually started to feel better that I was "grabbing the getting old" bull by the horns.  When I had settled on my dermatologist, and I talked about it with my other half, I was set on looking into getting a skin analysis and some form of treatment schedule for my middle aged skin cells.  Going to bed that night, I felt better about what I had decided my going forward plan was going to be for my current skin affliction.  Waking up the next morning, I avoided looking at the whole sad picture in that damn 20X mirror, and with a bound and determined plan, I told myself that I was going to make that call to try to stop this thing called “aging” from happening. 
 OK so do you remember the first line of this post I said "...the other day..." ah yeah...so it has been over a month, since I had the encounter with the 20X mirror and I have still...NOT...called that damn dermatologist.  I did however, buy some eye cream, lip wrinkle treatment in the form of some crazy lip gloss, and some 1000+ SPF (well not really...I don't think SPF goes that high!) anti-wrinkle "night cream" at my local drug store.  What the hell right?  I have turned into my mother!  My poor daughter is going to have nightmares about her mother chasing her around the house trying to give her a good night kiss with smelly, nasty, cold cream smothered all over her face!  If any of you readers out there, had mothers who did this...you know EXACTLY how sad that last visual really is!   I have NO idea why I have NOT called the dermatologist...I blame it on work, my child, my husband being on travel etc. but as I sit here penning this Blog, I really think that the reason why I have not called is because that would be my first step in my “12 Step Middle Age Acceptance Anonymous” program…admitting that I am getting old.  I prefer to ignore that fact all together…well at least for now...