Movin' on Up

To a deeeeluxe new site: http://isthisthingonckd.wordpress.com/

New look, same great snarky attitude! Be sure to update your Google reader and come visit soon!

Grace in Small Things: Super Friends Edition

Not that my friendships are a "small thing" but you know...

1.) The comfort and easy laughter of talks, emails and IM's with old friends nearly makes me spit coffee all over myself, but oh is it worth it. Might be a good thing we all don't live near each other; the amount of ditching work to watch movies and day drink would be astounding.

2.) The appearance of new friends (I say "new" but mean "within the last year") who have enriched my life and brought unexpected joy and perspective into my world. I can only hope I do a fraction of the same for each of them.

3.) The friends I have yet-to-actually-meet who exist somewhere in the bloggy world and push me to continue writing, however silly, and put it out there. That surprising support sustains me just when I think "Who cares?" and want to chuck it all.

4.) The expansion of my circle due to marriages and babies thrills me like none other, because if there's one thing I like it's a good party. And what better reason to celebrate than true love and shmoopy wee ones? Also, an open bar helps and pregnant chicks are great designated drivers.

5.) The constant reminders each of my friends give me to think about the small, beautiful things in life in the middle of chaos keep me sane and comforted when I feel overwhelmed or alone. Thank you.

This and That

I have no idea what is up, but I am EXHAUSTED. Not sure if I'm fighting off a cold or something, but my body appears to be shutting down, and my brain isn't far behind. Here's some updates, clarifications and Bluth family hilarity for you on a windy Wednesday:

-Um, just wanted to make it clear that at the time of my little incident on I-80, I WAS NOT DRINKING. The boozy part of the weekend took place post-accident, while I was safely relaxing at my cousin's home. And driving was done by a sober individual. Thanks, Dad!

-My truck sustained some fairly concerning damage and will survive, but the repairs are not limited to the tires. The tire shop dude said it appeared my rear tire suffered "catastrophic failure" which I think would be an awesome band name. Anyway, I will be spending some time trying to get CHP to give me a report detailing what they saw (I think the words "semi-hysterical white girl" and "huge-ass pieces of tire all over the damn place" will appear in the official report) and my only hope is that I will get to meet Ponch. And that the tire company will have to pay to fix the damage because it wasn't my fault the tire just up and exploded.

-This: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIT5sFhw4sU&fmt=18 has been making me laugh uncontrollably for the last day or so. If you were not a fan of Arrested Development it probably won't make you laugh quite as hard, but oh man...so good. Full disclosure: I sometimes dance like Lindsay and GOB when I am drunk. STEVE HOLT!

-One side of my hair is growing faster than the other. That's weird, right?

-Lately I've been spending way too much time contemplating the differences and my preferences between Tombstone and Wyatt Earp. I think I like Kurt Russell better as Earp, but really love that Mark Harmon is in the Kevin Costner version. And I am torn between the two Doc Hollidays...Val Kilmer and Dennis Quaid are both pretty hot and Quaid lost all that weight to make the tuberculosis seem real. See my dilemma? There's room in my heart for both films, not to mention room in pants for all the hotties of each movie (hey-o!) so I suppose there's no reason to choose.

-I am wearing these little weird sorta-stocking things that only cover my toes. They keep my feet from sliding in my shoes and protect my pedi (Holla!) but when I walk my feet make this weird noise. It sounds like I'm tooting with each step WHICH I ASSURE YOU I AM NOT. Might need to abandon them. (The stockings, not my feet.)

-My goal tonight is to stay awake to watch the remaining episodes of Battlestar Galactica on Hulu, so please do not tell me what happens in the finale, OK? Thanks.

I Almost Died in a Car Crash, Got Shitfaced with My Family and Saw Some Pigs. How Was Your Weekend?

Alternate title: The Longest Post EVER So Get Yourself a Drink and Settle in for a Detailed Account of How I Spent My Weekend, Y'all.

People, I am DONE with driving long distances and Big Scary Freeways for awhile, at least. Yes, I spent most of my childhood and adolescence on the Dumbarton Bridge and am nonplussed by more than two lanes of traffic but holy mother of swear words and cars and drive-thrus...I am staying put for the forseeable future.

WARNING: If you are one of my dads or I ever lived in your uterus, you might want to skip the first part of Friday because you will lose your shit. No offense guys, but you're kinda wimpy when it comes to the thought of me almost dying. Just move along to the parts where I am drunk because you have all seen that.

Friday: Day started out on a pretty normal note. Got some last minute laundry done, packed my bag for my crazy-busy weekend and headed out of Chico in my recently tuned-up truck. My old, but lovingly cared for, well-maintained (OK, yes, it does need a good washing but other than that, just shut up, alright?) truck. The first half of the drive goes by with zero incident and I'm bopping along and decide to pull off of I-80 in Fairfield for a coffee. As I make my way over to the right lane I hear a huge BANG, the truck pulls sharply to the left and the next few moments are a blur as I spin out and almost hit the wall before managing to get the car pointed in the right direction over on the shoulder. I call 911 because I can see chunks of my tire in the road and know that the CHP office is at the next exit. (Seriously, I do this drive all the damn time and know every bathroom, every Peet's coffee location, whatever.) Another car pulls over to check on me as I'm half hyperventilating-recounting the story of OHMYGODIJUSTSPUNOUTWHATTHEFUCK? to the dispatcher. The people in the other car inform me my driver's side rear tire appears to be shredded and I relay this to the dispatcher, who is asking me all kinds of questions that I am having trouble answering (like, my name) but I manage to give her my location. In the meantime, one of the three Good Samaritans seems really put off by the fact that I am devoting more attention to the 911 dispatch than to him, and mistakes my reluctance to fully exit the vehicle as a fear that he will rob me, rather than a fear of being mowed down by one of the hundreds of cars flying past us. He proceeds to inform me that I clearly hate black people, FSP shows up and a highway patrol officer rolls up to check on me too. I try to explain to the dude that I am not racist, just freaking the fuck out and maybe I have forgotten my manners but I AM HAVING A BIT OF A CRISIS HERE and would appreciate if he could wait a moment while I get shit done and then I will be happy to chat with him and inspect the tire while practically standing in the freeway. The FSP dude manages to get the tire situation under control while the officers block traffic and run out onto the freeway to retrieve tire chunks. If you had to slow down on I-80 last Friday afternoon, SORRY! AAA shows up too, makes sure things are cool and I'm sent on my way. Although the car is deemed totally safe to drive, I am still a little flipped out but manage to get myself to my dad's house in one piece.

Upon arrival in Pacifica, I give the fam a quick rundown of the situation and my uncle offers to drive me to my dinner party in the city. I politely decline, so he offers to make me a drink instead. Sold!

I love that my uncle and I speak the same language: Bushmills.

The dinner with B&G, D&K and E was fabulous as always. B looked at me and said, "It feels right having you at my table" and I gotta say, it feels right to me too. Talking about leaving my heart in San Francisco.

D&K, adorable as ever.

The gourmets: G cooked up a five-star meal and K spoiled us with homemade tiramisu.

Saturday: Up at dawn to road trip to Fresno (aka The 'No) for my Great-Aunt Peggy's memorial service. She passed away last month and is terribly missed by our family. A beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the lady liked to have fun and her children and grandchildren put on a wonderful party that honored her memory. I always forget that this side of the family is the Unapologetic Day Drinking side, and realized I need to visit more. We saw a ton of relatives we hadn't seen in years and I discovered that the penchant for sick jokes and a "That's What She Said!" sense of humor is genetic.

Timothy Evan and Evan William partying it up.

The evening is a bit of a blur... I know I went on a liquor run with my dad, got back to the house, downed the rest of my wine and got my uncle to hook his favorite niece up with some cocktails. Our cousins Terri and Mark are pig farmers and have a gorgeous property with lots of cute baby pigs. I felt a little guilty enjoying my bacon and cilantro wrapped shrimp, but got over it pretty fast because sweet baby Jesus, that stuff is SO GOOD. I explained that as a city girl, I prefer not to make friends with my meals and they agreed they would only serve me food I hadn't met. Seems fair. Ridiculous and fairly graphic explanations of inseminating pigs for breeding ensued and at one point I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. Eventually the crowd dispersed and I passed out in my cousin's room.

Bubba shows off his monkey bollock (blanket) and monkey jammers.

Mark, please do not explain to him how baby pigs are made, nor where the bacon came from.

Thumbs up all-around for Terri, the coolest cousin!

Sunday: Woke up with the slightest headache, but after tallying the drinks (3 beers, 2 glasses of wine and a shit ton of whiskey and soda) I was not in horrid shape. After some breakfast, coffee and a shower I was handed a mimosa. I use the term "mimosa" lightly because those are supposed to have orange juice in them, which I guess mine did technically, but really, who are we kidding? Again with the day drinking and damn if my head didn't feel absolutely marvelous instantly. Dad and Judy came by with Evan and apparenly Bubba was up half the night with a fever.

Some snippets of conversation:

Terri: "My girlfriends and I used to have a pool going when we'd go out and whoever got asked to dance by the ugliest guy got the money."

Judy: "I want in on that. You're talking my game! Also, lesbians love me. We start talking softball and next thing I know..."

Me: "If the rules were the oldest dude asking you to dance I'd beat all of you hands down. Old guys love me. And I want extra credit if they are wearing chains!"

Dad: "Will someone please take the champagne away from them?"

Have you ever been drunk in the car with your drunk stepmom, sober dad and three year-old brother? Because here's what you can expect: making up songs that heavily feature the word "poop" with the three year-old, begging your dad to pull over for Jack-in-the-Box because, "Dude, we are drunk hungry! I need food noooooowwwww" and passing out next to the aforementioned toddler. A toddler who will try to wake you by throwing toys at your head and playing a pretend trumpet. Interweb, that is the closest I've ever come to hitting a child. I wonder when he'll realize "Sissy is tired" means "Sissy is hammered" and "Sissy needs to sleep" means "Sissy passed out and will likely attack if woken?" Hopefully not for another year or so. I woke from my car nap covered in my own drool and still feeling buzzed. My dad is exceptionally proud of me.

Show of hands: who is concerned that Evan was able to take this photo because I was too drunk/lazy/oblivious to wrestle my camera away from a person who weighs 30 lbs?

Monday: After another fitful, feverish night with Evan the entire family trekked to Kaiser for an appointment with Dr. Ami, the best pediatrician since my childhood doctor. The kid has some weird ass preschool disease like foot and mouth, only the sores are only in his mouth. I wasn't so much disgusted as concerned, but still - ew!

While putting the little diseased kid down for his nap and saying goodbye he warmed my cold, dead heart with this little gem:

"I'm so glad you're my potty talk friend!"

For reals. I cannot begin to express how completely awesome this kid is. You just need to experience him to fully understand the wacky charm that is Bubba.

The drive home was uneventful, but I stopped every five minutes to check my tires and hyperventilate and imagine that the car was going to careen off the road. Good times. After spending roughly three hours in the car Friday-Monday I am so grateful my daily commute is 40 minutes round trip. CKD needs a break, yo.

So, um, there you go. My weekend in approximately 7,000 words, give or take. If you'll excuse me now I need to collapse and maybe pour myself a drink. Haven't had one of those in about 18 hours and we wouldn't want my liver tissue to regenerate, now would we?

Fancy Ladies

My mom and I went out for dinner together, and like most of our interactions, I was left wondering if any other moms and daughters talk about the same things we do. Sure, we chat about work, friends, our family...but then sometimes the conversation takes a turn for the bizarro.

Me: "Hey, you have a zit next to your mouth just like I do!"
Mom: "I know. I think it's from getting this [gestures to upper lip area] waxed."
Me: "Me too! It's sucks. You have to make the choice: zit or ladystache."
Mom: "I'll take the zit."

A few minutes later...

Me: "Not really loving this new development where I need to deal with a ladystache. I was explaining to a friend that it's not dark, but my hair is so long. I look like Hulk Hogan."
Mom: *Laughs* "Yeah, I don't have that problem. I have more of a 'Vote for Pedro' five o'clock shadow, wouldn't you say?"
Me: *Almost chokes from laughing* "Sure, we can call it that."

And, SCENE!

Hey You Kids! Get Off My Lawn!

In reality, I guess I should ask them to quit skateboarding in front of my house and making out in my driveway, but you get the picture.

Upon arriving home tonight, I saw that some boards were blocking my access to my driveway. As in, I could not park my truck where I park it every fucking day. My teenage neighbor was sitting between his family's driveway and mine with some girl, as I gave him the "Hey, would you be a dear and move your shit outta my way so I can park? Thanks bunches" look. He looked at me, then the boards (which are really pathetic and in no way constitute some sort of homemade bitchin' skate park and if this girl is impressed by his "stunts" then she deserves to be with the dumbshit), and continued to sit there and be as useless as tits on a frog. Let me repeat this: HE SAT THERE AND DID NOTHING TO REMOVE THE OBJECT AND BE A HALFWAY DECENT HUMAN BEING WITH ANY REGARD FOR OTHER PEOPLE WHO NEED TO EXIST AROUND HIM. I knew that if I rolled down my window and asked him to do this, I would not be able to contain my ire, so I just parked on the street.

As I got out of my car, Tony Hawk offered a lame, "Sorry about that" and continued the strenuous activiy of sitting on his skinny ass while his little girlfriend breathed through her mouth. "It's cool. You're busy." I answered and marched myself into the house quickly while I was able to resist the urge to hurl the boards at their heads.

So, how was your day?

Sacramento? More like SacramentNO!

I admit it: I wasn't super-psyched to attend a conference in Sacramento, especially since it fell during my second favorite holiday: St. Patrick's Day. (My favorite holiday? Halloween. Yes, if given the choice, I will take candy over booze. Fun fact.) I mean, I'm sure Sacramento is lovely and it is the state capital and all that...but I have no ties, no real affinity for the city. Plus, what if the "Irish pubs" were lame? Turns out my fears were unfounded and it was an excellent mix of business and fun.

The conference itself was pretty great, and it does please me that our school values me enough to send me to events where I can learn and grow and take ownership of this role. I am still exhausted from the drive, hotel sleeping (which is never ever restful for me), networking, and bouncing between sessions in order to hear from a variety of speakers. So, you get a recap in bullet form, because grenade form* just seems so intense.

-I overpacked, as is my MO whenever I leave my house for more than 20 minutes. My swimsuit never saw the light of day, as it wasn't really warm enough for the pool. And like a well-intentioned moron, I packed running/workout gear, which also never found its way out of my bag. Silly CKD.

-Had some extra time to burn Monday evening and thought I'd run some errands. Apparently when I asked the Concierge for directions to the nearest Target, she heard that as "Please send me to the unemployment office" because when I followed the directions and landed at the address she gave me, that's exactly where I ended up. I'm not sure if I was just road-weary, hungry, or am just a flat-out bitch, but my frustration quickly turned to a white-hot rage and I found myself screaming "I'M GONNA CHOKE THAT BITCH!" alone in my car as I made my way back to the hotel. I'm sure the other drivers on the road didn't find that sketchy in the least.

-Free wi-fi my ass, Hyatt Regency. I refused to pay $10 per day for intermittend Interweb access, which also sent me into an irrational fit of "OH THE INJUSTICE THRUST UPON ME! WHY GOD? WHY MEEEEEE?" Then I remembered the hotel had a bar downstairs.

-In recent months I've become more confident about going out alone, and quickly found that a hotel bar is an awesome place to make friends. Seriously. There was nothing sketchy, just a lot of business travelers and I made friends with a fellow conference attendee. I turned an IT consultant from Texas on to Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and he bought me one to show his gratitude. The bartender and I are best friends and he makes an awesome Kir Royale.

-One of the keynote speakers at the conference was super hot, super smart and super funny. Also: married. Dumb bitch. I think it's a real testament to my geekiness that I go into a full-tilt swoon over these environmental/academic types. I developed about four crushes per minute while chatting with presenters and fellow attendees and discovering shared interests in breathing and being able to drink water. Wow. Just reading that sentence makes me think it's time to take a long hard look at my standards.

-While out on the town for St. Patrick's Day a (presumably) drunk girl stopped to tell me I have great legs and that she's jealous of them. I thanked her, a little embarrassed (note to self: time to learn to accept compliments gracefully), but was pleased. My companion concurred with her assessment, so there's that.

-Every bar was an out of control amateur night disaster, so back to the hotel bar for me where my new BFF made me the best whiskey sour of my life. People, if you are ever in the Sac, hit up Dawson's at the Hyatt Regency and tell them the Wildcat sent you. You won't be sorry.



*Credit Whiskeymarie

Happy Birthday Jen! aka "Who's the boss? Tony Danza? No, I think it's Jennifer"

March 14 was my dear friend Jen's birthday and I hope she will forgive me for the tardiness of this post. Jen and I met at the Puge; she and Kim lived two doors down from me in Regester Hall (Virgin Vault - HOLLA!) and we quickly discovered a shared affinity for Goonies, Adam Sandler and speaking in movie quotes. We have a winner! Also, her product collection and morning routine rivals mine in the "Holy crap, how much stuff do you have?" department. My only complaint about Jen is that she lives so far away now. What's it gonna take for you guys to move to California? I'll do the truffle shuffle...

Jen is an adorable white girl from So Cal who also happens to have mad rap skillz. She and Kim do an excellent Dr. Dre/Snoop Dogg for "Nothing but a G Thang" that will send you into fits of uncontrollable laughter and awe.

Jen's nickname, The Boss, is a shortened version of her maiden name, but also an excellent way to sum up her dynamic, take-charge attitude. This woman chaired committees for, like, 90% of the activities of our campus and every single one was a raging success.

Jen is never embarrassed by my ridiculous shenanigans and just encourages me to be a jackass by laughing when I dance like Elaine. So, blame her.

Jen's dance skillz would make Kevin Bacon proud. She can do any routine from Footloose, including the part where Ren dances around by himself and yanks off his sweatshirt. Just thinking about it is mkaing me crack up right now.

Jen is an awesome karaoke partner. Our version of "Sweet Caroline" brought down the house at orientation. Word.

Jen has a Rain Man-like memory for song lyrics and movie lines. Throw out some obscure line from Friends or pretty much any movie ever and the woman will respond in kind.

Jen, for all of her straightforward, "I'm-not-gonna-pump-sunshine-up-your-butt"-ness is always, always the first to offer love and support and encouragement in a time of need.

Jen is not afraid of confrontation or saying the Thing Maybe You Don't Really Want to Say but Probably Should. Being terrified of every offending anyone ever when I met her, I learned from her example that it's possible to stand up for yourself and the world will not fall apart. There are times even now that I channel that energy and it has served me well.

Oh Hen, I miss you and wish we lived in the same building again so we could get some fro-yo from Smell. If you ever slow down for two seconds I'll come visit soon since I have yet to meet your baby Tessie. Plus, Jeff and I clearly need to discuss the subtle nuances of the genius that is Happy Gilmore. You are so money, and you don't even know it!

Remember That Time Blogspot Was All Effed Up and I Almost Had a Stroke?

That wasn't fun. I am insanely behind in posting (birthday! my Sacramento adventure!) and am just glad this technical issue has been resolved because OH MAN DO NOT CUT ME OFF FROM ALL THREE OF MY ADORING FANS.

Stay tuned kids. More to come.*



*That's what she said.

Step Inside, Walk This Way

Guess who is going to see Def Leppard, Poison and Cheap Trick in concert, bitches? To say that I am excited is a supreme understatement. I am pretty much freaking out and cannot wait until September. I am going with some of my favorite concert buddies and am going to throw out a quick plea to S to come down from Seattle for this momentous event. Come on, Man! Remember how much fun Billy Idol was? I bet this will provide as many, if not MORE, laughs.

So, I think I need to start watching Rock of Love or something to get my outfit just so. Anyone know where I can get a leather fringe halter top? Cappa has already suggested leopard-print leggings and maybe a neck tat. At this point anything is possible. Seems like I should also have some daddy issues and smeared lipstick and/or eyeliner. Thank goodness I have time to prep.

And here I thought knowing all the words to "Unskinny Bop" would never help me later in life.

For Future Reference

Here are some things you may not want to be doing while the Accreditation Committee is touring your department:

1.) Singing along to .38 Special

2.) Shaking and kicking the vending machine when your snack get stuck

3.) Eating Pop-Tarts while getting crumbs all over your top

4.) Dancing in your chair while "I Love the Nightlife" is on the radio

5.) Spilling water in your lap

6.) Inspecting your head for gray hairs

7.) Daydreaming about Mark Harmon

The more you know...

Hypochondria: Not Just for Crazy Old Ladies

You know that person who gets a headache and immediately Googles "brain tumor" only to have the headache subside by the time she has convinced herself that she totally has all the symptoms?

Hi there.

My lips have been really dry and chapped and peeling and even bleeding a little (I know - eww) and I have no idea what prompted this. And nothing seems to work. The only thing I can think of is that I am dehydrated, but stepping up the water intake (thanks for the suggestion Habesha Child - I have been hydrating) hasn't really made a difference one way or the other. On the bright side, my lips are a little darker and pinker so I don't need to apply gloss or anything. Um...Yay?

I feel like a tool for looking up this kind of stuff on WebMD, but what if I am ignoring a common symptom of malaria or Avian bone syndrome or the Ebola virus? I have an English degree and I watch House so clearly I should be diagnosing this stuff with info cribbed from Wikipedia.

When I hear about women who don't realize they are pregnant until they are giving birth into a toilet, I am absolutely shocked someone could be so disconnected from her body because the slightest change and BLAMMO! my ass is consulting websites and frantically emailing doctor friends for free advice and reassurance.

For now, I am placing a bit of the blame on one of my parents who shall remain Dave because he is the king of the Worst Case Scenario. Allergic reaction to some funky peanut sauce? It's probably West Nile. Bump on my neck? Unborn twin tumor baby. No wonder I'm a mess.

UPDATE: Guess what is all better? Yeah. Turns out constant application of Kiehl's and Aquaphor AND drinking a shit-ton of water (shout out Habesha Child!) did work. Oh, and some patience.

Frakin' A

File this one under: "Nerd Porn" or something.

So, I stumbled upon this: http://io9.com/5165920/the-men-who-make-battlestar-galactica-feminist while checking out Jezebel and was like, "Great, let's read all about the feminist theories involved in Battlestar Galactica!" I was all kinds of detached intellectual about the whole thing, pushed my glasses up on my nose and nodded and shook my head as I agreed and disagreed with the author. Really, it was all very scholarly and I was feeling so smug for being able to apply various literary theories to a television show.

And then I saw this:

And I freaked the fuck out. As my friend Judi said, "My gods that man can wear a towel." Indeed. Once I got my lady parts to chill out I finished the article, but I don't really remember much of it. Don't look at me like that.

This Springing Forward Stuff Has Messed Up My Sleep

So, I apologize in advance for this potentially disjointed, rambling post.

1.) It seems my weekends have two speeds: GOGOGOALLTHETIMEDON'TSTOP or sit on my ass with no plans. But this weekend? I think CKD found this thing called "balance" and oh man. It's sweet, y'all. The perfect mix of lazy mornings sitting around drinking coffee and socializing on the town. Perfect, really.

2.) Life in a college town just isn't for me. Yes, there are things to love (cheap drinks and such) but my patience with the general population is wearing thin. I mean, did that guy really think that wooing me with the promise of "a lot of fun" on his buddy's pull-out sofa ("I'm not from here, dude") was going to work on a grown woman? Because it wasn't. If you want a classy broad like me, you're going to have to do better than that. Get a futon. The best part of this exchange was how the guy went from all kind of charming (if you find smarmy to be charming, that is) to downright pissed off when I turned down his gracious offer, like I had wasted ten minutes of his time and now he was going to have to find some other girl and start all over again. The humanity. People are a fucking mystery to me.

2a.) When describing this scene to a friend she asked if the guy was cute. Yes, he was, but I explained he also kind of had "date rape face" and she didn't know what that was. Am I the only one who has ever heard of this? Basically, this guy could play Frat Dick #2 in any variety of college movies. If he had approached anyone I knew, I would cockblock because he just had THAT LOOK. I'm crazy, right? OK...

3.) My lips are really super chapped and it's annoying. I cannot figure out why this is, and my usual remedies (Kiehl's balm and Aquaphor) are not working. WTF?

4.) I finally caught this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGYx35ypus from Louis CK and realized I am a total asshole. Sure, I try to enjoy the moment and be zen about shit, but I've done a fair amount of bitching this last week over minor inconveniences and it's such a waste of energy. Trying to breathe in more. Feel free to remind me.

Pop Quiz, Hot Shot

Guess which of these things I DID NOT do over the course of the last week:

-Told a bouncer "You're fucking joking, right?" when asked for my ID at a 21 and over establishment.

-Honestly forgot it was Lent and ordered a Pepsi when going through the Taco Bell drive-thru.

-Got exceedingly, embarrassingly excited when some high school boy gave me the "Hey Now!" nod and up-and-down.

-Felt superior to those around me when I knew Freddy Washington's nickname was "Boom Boom."

-Wished my nickname was "Boom Boom."

-Pointed and laughed at Katie when she stumbled in public.

-Drank too much sake.

-Acted my goddamn age.

What to Wear Wednesday: Purse Splurge

This week Kristle has a question about one of my very favorite things: purses.

"I need some help with a decision. I need a new purse and I love this one:

You think it is too much? I usually buy $50 purses. It will be my daily purse. I have seen it in stores so it is a good size and black works with all."

Let me start off here by saying that my first thought when I saw a picture of this lovely bag was, "I want to take this behind a middle school and get it pregnant." Holy mother of accessories! We have a winner!

It's such a stereotype of the Typical Woman, isn't it? We're just mad for bags and shoes and we'll take out a second mortgage to finance these addictions, right? No. Most of us are reasonable and will not sell organs in the name of a pretty bag.

That said, I say go for it. You are planning to get this bag on eBay for a relative steal. You have seen it in person, liked it, and knew it was your style. You don't own upwards of 10 bags (unlike someone who shall remain CKD) and would like to upgrade your accessory wardrobe. You plan to use it daily, which would break down the cost-per-use to mere pennies, really.

I know that purchasing a purse for roughly double what you would normally pay sounds insane. You have a functional day-to-day bag, there's not an urgent "need" for this, and who the hell is spluring on things like this NOW? THE ECONOMY IS IN SHAMBLES! QUICK, PUT THE MONEY UNDER THE MATTRESS!!!! But hear me out: if you have budgeted for such a purchase, and are maybe willing to sacrifice some other fun things that may pop up for a bit, there's no harm really. This is generally a good way to roll, regardless of the economic climate or threat of layoffs. If this will not make-or-break your ability to eat or pay bills you shouldn't feel awful. Another way to make sure you won't regret a big impulse buy is to sleep on it; if you are still thinking about the item the next day, you know it wasn't temporary insanity. If waiting isn't an option, keep the tags, keep the receipt and know the return policy BEFORE you hand over your money.

And I can totally borrow this bag when I come visit right?

UPDATE: Kristle bid on the purse and won it! All is happy in Accessory Land. PS: I had a lot of sake tonight.

Babies, Black Clothes, Bubba and Blondie

It usually takes me a week or so to get back into the swing of Chico life after a great weekend in the Bay Area. Add quality time with Lili and Juno to the mix and my post-weekend blues increase exponentially.

I was originally going to do this as a Grace in Small Things post, but there's nothing small about the amount of grace my friends and family bring to my life. So, you get some pictures instead.

Cocktail hour at The Club (say this like Thurston Howell for maximum effect). CKD threw on her pashmina since she seemed to pack only black clothing and looked like Morticia Fucking Addams. Seriously, it can't be good when your father, who owns 836 plaid button down shirts, stages a little intervention about the amount of black in your wardrobe.

Juno being hilarious. We should have cut her off after the second drink, but she was all, "DUDE! I can handle it! I'm on vacation...back down."

Holding this kid sets my ovaries to "function mode" or something. She never fusses, loves my dancing (I mean, who DOESN'T, right? But she is clearly advanced.) and even when she spit up on me she leaned over so most of it hit the floor. Where do I get one?

And speaking of the famous DeFazio Dance Moves: Evan rocks out with his toy pager. Don't ask. I think he's expecting a call from 1987 or something.

No, Dad, I DID NOT make the baby sing "All the Single Ladies" and we DID NOT do the dance routine from the video and I most certainly DID NOT swear in front of him. Why do you ask?

A few people have asked about the Blondie concert and all I can say is that the bitch kicks some ASS. I want to be like her when I grow up. And I think the entire gay population of Butte County was at the show; it was nice to meet the six of you. I wasn't great about taking pictures, and the ones I do have are just scary. CKD may have gone a little crazy with the Maybelline Superstay and may have looked a little crazy with her new dark hair, pasty-ass skin and RED lips. Just trust me on this one, OK?

He's at the Top of MY List

The other night Judy asked Evan if he understood what it meant to be thankful, and she gave him some examples of things for which she is grateful. Then she asked him what he is thankful for.

"My big boy bed. No more crib."

Pause.

"And the love in our house."

Yes, there is some serious love in this house.

Happy Birthday FraochNiCymru aka "Because liberals and conservatives CAN be friends!"

I wasn't so sure that today's birthday girl would want a blog shout-out from me, but I was happy when I got the go-ahead. We met during my time on the East Coast and our friendship got off to a rocky start to say the least. It was sort of like an episode of Three's Company in terms of misunderstandings, but no one was pretending to be gay. (And I'm using her Internet pseudonym since she works in a, uh, sensitive office and I don't want any Google searches leading The Man here.) When I was headed back to California, she happened to email me to say hello and the ensuing conversations led to an interesting "come to Jesus" type of talk, a newfound understanding of each other, and an unlikely friendship at a time when I was looking for good signs anywhere.

Cym is a fierce mother lioness who will fuck your shit up if you dare mess with her family. For reals you guys. Just don't even try. I hope that if I am fortunate enough to have kids I will find that kind of strength to deal with any crap anyone throws at them.

Cym has this weird notion that she isn't girlie or a fashionable or some such silliness, but on a few occasions when I have posed a question about an outfit this chick has rolled up with advice that makes me feel dumb because it's so simple. But mostly I am grateful I asked and that she shared.

Cym sometimes says the hard stuff you don't want to hear. And as much as we all need the hold-your-hand-and-nod-sympathetically-friends, sometimes we need the kick-in-the-butt friends. (For the record, many of my friends can fall into this category, but this seems to be her specialty.) Hearing the hard stuff isn't always pretty but it's necessary.

Cym showed up at a transitional "WTF?" time in my life and encouraged me to keep on being me, having fun, and exploring all of the new options ahead. Yes, A LOT of people did this, but as someone who had very little interaction with me, she suggested things no one else had, and the possibilities opened me up in a new way.

Cym is an amazing writer. When she finally writes her memoirs or a novel or SOMETHING I will so be first in line at her book signings and readings because that shit is gonna be hilaaaaarious. I cannot drink anything while reading her emails because of too many close calls with coffee out the nose. You've been warned.

Cym, I am holding you to your promise of a West Coast visit and you will need to prep the guest room (and most of Northern VA) when I find my way back there. Stockpile the wine now! And enjoy your day - I'm toasting you from out here.

A Hypothetical Question for You

Yes, I went to church for Ash Wednesday. No, the walls did not start bleeding.

I'm not big on the Church and organized religion, although I most definitely pray and believe in God and do actually enjoy attending Mass. (Are you uncomfortable yet? Sorry. Bear with me.)

So, I went to church for the first time in almost a year, took communion, and went home with the biggest, darkest cross on my forehead ever. And somewhere in there, I half listened to the priest (I was at the back, the PA system was so-so and I had to strain to hear him) and half meditated on how giving up soda for Lent was not really a great sacrifice. Although I did reason that I could take the money I spend on soda, set is aside, and use it toward something more meaningful. You think 40 days worth of soda money won't make a difference? People, you don't know how bad my addiction is.

And then I took no end of crap for doing all of that.

See, I haven't been to confession in, um, oh...Let's just say I was probably in junior high. And being the goody-goody I was, I'm sure the worst offense I had to offer up was some smack-talk about another girl. Point is, I've racked up some decent sins since then and have yet to formally ask a priest to make sure I'm good with God. And did I mention I am NOT a regular church goer? I mean, I end up going for Christmas and/or Easter, maybe another random trip in there somewhere, and then maybe a wedding that includes a mass. And even then I'm checking out the groomsmen and counting down to the cocktail hour, not thinking about God and sacraments and whatever.

So here's my question: am I a bad person for treating the Catholic faith like a buffet? You know, picking and choosing what I want, rejecting the not-so-fun parts? Or is it good enough that I at least acknowledge my hypocrisy, try to be a good person and basically use this blog as a confessional?

And if everyone agrees I need to get myself to a confessional booth, don't blame ME when the priest freaks out after I go all Jack Donaghy on him.

Stone away.

What to Wear Wednesday: Your Turn

I'm such a hack. Here I claim I can solve your beauty and fashion dilemmas and I'm asking YOU for the advice. (Did I just lose the guys? Bye! I'll post a picture of someone in a bikini tomorrow or something.)

My complexion is pretty decent, but every once in awhile I find myself dealing with a blemish or some dark circles under the eyes. Yes, I have a good foundation, but sometimes I just want to cover up the problem spots and move on, and it doesn't cut it. The caveat: I am Pasty McWhitey and have dry, sensitive skin. So, whatever I use needs to come in a shade semi-close to my skin tone AND not make my skin issues worse.

Anyone have a miracle concealer? If so, leave a comment, send me an email or find me on Facebook. Any and all suggestions will be considered! Ideally this will be something I can pick up in retail-challenged Chico (ie we know not of Sephora, Nordstrom or Ulta), but that's not a deal-breaker.

More Proof for the Commitment Hearing

I think about Beyonce sometimes. Not as much as I think about Tina Fey, but I spend a decent amount of brain energy on her. Energy that should be spent on job applications, saving baby seals and/or doing sit-ups. Don't try to understand it, because Lord knows I don't.

A few of my recent musings on the subject:

-Does anyone else find it weird that she has this alter ego named "Sasha Fierce?" Because "Beyonce" is just sooo commonplace that she needs something more exotic?

-Why is the hit single off her most recent album all about being single and not crying over her boyfriend? She's married now, right? He liked it, he put a ring on it, Beyonce-Sasha! Don't get me wrong, this song is playing on a continuous loop in my brain (although every time I hear the line "To infinity and beyond" I imagine that she broke up with Buzz Lightyear) and I may or may not have a little dance that I do when I hear it.

But really? Really?! I'm not getting what's going on with Ms. Knowles.

Maybe I am not meant to understand. Maybe these are questions for the ages. Maybe I should put down the wine.

Oh, and I've been watching this non-stop for about 45 minutes:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5qx-MVrXfk&feature=PlayList&p=89FF437B85DBFC5D&playnext=1&index=16

Weirdly hynotic, no? The dance I choreographed is eerily similar to Andy Samberg's moves around :58.

Exciting News from Lingering Cold Central: Now with Super-Attractive Cold Sore AND Period Acne!

(Are you totally turned on right now? It's OK. Don't fight it.)

Not long after writing yesterday's bitchy-ass post about HOW DIFFICULT my life is, what with having the sniffles (oh, the humanity!), help and relief showed up miraculously. This put things into better perspective for me. I mean, it's a COLD. There are people everywhere dealing with way worse. Hell, I have dealt with way worse (what's up, pneumonia and various lung infections that made me cough so hard I vomit in public?) in the past. Sack up.

Katie is also sick and we decided that we needed pedicures to a.) get our whiny selves out of our homes and b.) help us feel like pretty pretty princesses. The pedis worked, yes, and we showed good judgment by sipping juice rather than our traditional mimosas. But Katie had a little surprise for me that perked me up like none other: a visit from the cutest little puppy ever. (Oh, he was accompanied by his "dad" and all that. It's not like he just called up and asked if we were doing anything. He's a puppy.)

Anyway, Riggs, the puppy, was so well-behaved and sweet and snuggly and soft...I did my best not to go all Lenny on him, but it took serious restraint, y'all. This kind of made me feel like a child. Despite all the Stranger Danger stuff I had drilled in to me, I'm pretty sure a kidnapper could easily - to this day - lure me into a sketchy van with a "Will you help me find my lost puppy/kitten?" story because sweet Jesus, I am a sucker for animals. And baby animals? Oy. Don't get me started.

This kind of got me thinking that while I may look like a grown-up and manage to fake it on most days, I really should not be allowed to live without adult supervision. I submit the following evidence:

-I have had to take a little break from my 24 viewing. You'd think this break was inspired by a desire for real human interaction, or to eat some cheese. Nope. This little self-imposed break is due to the new appearace of nightmares...24-inspired nightmares. Now the assassins don't want to hurt David Palmer or Jack Bauer: they are after ME. I know. I KNOW. There are first graders who can probably watch that show before bedtime and be completely fine, but I am a delicate flower. A fucking mental delicate flower, so please treat me with care.

-Last night while watching the Academy Awards I found myself hoarsely yelling "I NEED MORE COWBELL" the entire time Christopher Walken was on the stage to present...something. I don't even know. I was too busy repeating a joke that was funny seven years ago, and cracking myself up in the process. Sure, there may have been a little cold medicine cocktail involved here, but dude. Come on.

-The aforementioned puppy incident. Most normal people reach down and pet a dog. Me? I roll around on the floor with it with zero regard to social norms, ladylike behavior or the pitch of my voice.

I'm choosing to take some comfort in the fact that I act like a full-on child, rather than a tween. I mean, I'm not parading around in a glittery shirt and my pants cover my ass. I'm taking my victories where I can get them. Back off.

Now, I need to cure my fever with MORE COWBELL. Hahahaha! Ah, never gets old for me...

It's Raining, It's Pouring, This Post is Really Boring

And whiny.

It's the 2009 edition of "Being Sick is for Crap" so settle on in for some bitching and moaning because OH MY GOD I HATE HATE HATE BEING SICK.

You know that stereotype that men are the worst when it comes to illness? All helpless and baby-like? Well, I challenge all the males of the world to a showdown in that department. Something about sleep deprivation coupled with an inability to breathe brings out my most charming qualities: self-pity mixed with exhaustion and hint of "fuck-off-no-not-really-can-you-get-me-some-soup-please-don't-leave-meeeeee." I'm hungry, but I don't know what I want. I'm thirsty, but I don't want water, juice or tea, damn it. I'm tired but can't relax and get to sleep. It's adorable, really.

The weather is most definitely conducive to a day of staying inside under a blanket. At the same time, the weather is depressing me because if I'm sick on a nice day, I somehow muster the energy to face the world and that seems to help my mental health, if not the physical. If you have any hints on feeling better in a hurry, please send them my way. Along with some soup. And an US magazine, if it's not too much trouble. Thanks.

I think the only thing that can help me is a hot toddy and a pedicure. Ladies?

Because My Friends Cannot Make Decisions Without Your Help Either

Interweb, your assistance is requested regarding A Very Important Fashion Decision. A wedding-related fashion decision...which is pretty hardcore in the realm of clothing choices. The marriage may not last, but those photos are around FORFUCKINGEVER. (Just ask my mom about the harassment she has endured at the hands of her only child. Hey, if you wear a lampshade hat, expect me to comment on it, OK?) For the first time in the history of someone getting married I am NOT the one required to don a bridesmaid dress. But we have a Bridesmaid Virgin on our hands and she needs our help.

Miss Katie will be in her very first wedding in September, which is actually very exciting. The bride has chosen dresses offered through an online boutique, and has designated "persimmon" as the color. However, being a reasonable sort, she is allowing each girl to choose her own style. Here is where you can help.

We have a little poll going where you can vote on which style Katie should choose. She has it narrowed down to two, but is open to suggestions if you feel strongly. You can vote in the comments, too, and all opinions will be considered.

Here is Katie, in case you haven't met her:

Check out the dress options here http://lulakate.com/bridal/. Katie is leaning toward the Ashley or the Katherine (which would be kinda cute since that is her name and all, but not really a requirement), but open to suggestions if the overwhelming majority feels differently. This is kind of reminds me of playing dress-up with my dolls only it's a real, live person. Who really likes wine. See why we're friends?

At Least I'm Consistently Lame

In keeping with the theme "CKD is always about 8 steps behind what is cool right now" I would like to discuss my "new" favorite television show: 24.

What's that you say? This show has been on for several years now? And I am JUST NOW catching on to its awesomeness? Well, add it to the list of reasons of why I am not - nor ever will be - cool. Maybe tomorrow I'll buy some acid wash jeans. Or a Walkman.

Because I am a good little rule-follower I have started from the beginning (thanks for loaning me the DVD's Kevin!) in hopes that by 2010 I will be able to watch the current season. I am hooked. COMPLETELY HOOKED. The twists are fun, the characters aren't what they seem at first glance and Jack Bauer is such a badass. I think I'm developing a little crush on him, to tell you the truth. There, I said it. Impure thoughts aside, it really is a good show. Why didn't anyone mention it to me before?

What to Wear Wednesday: Not-So-Shiny But Still Happy People

This week's question comes from Miz Literature:

"I have a problem with 'shine.' Do you know of any products that will help me keep a matte look all day?"

Dear Miz Lit,

Without a little more info on your current product usage, I'm going to start from the basics and work our way up. This might be a case of "less is more" as opposed to adding layers to your gorgeous face.

Shine is usually a problem for the oily or combination skinned people of the world, but you should still be using a moisturizer every day. Use an oil-free one (Neutrogena has fantastic options, and it's easy to get one with basic SPF protection) to keep your skin balanced and avoid extra shine.

In terms of make-up, there are several options. I wouldn't do ALL of these things at once, but some experimenting might be in order to find the right solution.

I like the Smashbox Photo Finish primer before applying anything to my face. It mattifies (Is that a word? We'll say it is.) before you put on your make-up and is clear, so no need to spend hours matching colors. Who has that kind of time? It works well under foundation, powder, whatever...and helps your make-up stay put so you don't need to reapply throughout the day.

If you like foundation, I am a big fan of mineral make-up. Two excellent brands to try: Bare Escentuals (sort of the Big Name in mineral make-up) and Jane Iredale (my current love). Both offer excellent coverage without creating a "mask" effect. Bonus: you don't really need to do the foundation/powder combo. Since I am the laziest person on the planet, I am all about eliminating steps so that I can move on to my favorite morning activity: getting some coffee. Anyway, this stuff stays on all day (even during Chico summers when it's 145 degrees) and keeps the shine at bay.

Not feeling the mineral foundation? Sue Devitt makes a wonderful liquid foundation that goes on like buttah.

Not really into foundation? This brings us to...

Dr. Feelgood. I. Love. This. Stuff.

I have singled it out as a favorite thing and I pretty much always have it on me. Works beautifully alone, under foundation or as shine control hours after you first applied your make-up. No need to match colors and you can apply it while driving to work (not that I have EVER done that) because there's really no precision involved. If you go for the Sue Devitt foundation and find you are still a little shiny, this is the perfect thing to layer over it for a quick touch-up.

Have fun playing around at the various make-up counters and best of luck in your quest to let your adorable personality be the only shiny thing about you!

Tonight, We Bowl!

Monday I woke up with the kind of headache you get after you've spent the day riding around in a limo swigging champagne in between visits to three separate wineries. And yet when a certain three year-old woke me with "WE'RE GOING TO THE BOWLING ALLEY!" I knew I had to sack up and face the noise.

Apparently every family within a 50 mile radius had the same idea we did (rain + no school = bowling), but the hour-long wait for a lane was made more bearable by the abundance of hangover food available at SeaBowl. Cheese sticks? Check. Pizza? Check. Chips and salsa? Check. Let's do this!

Little Man so excited that he "knocked down those pins" all the way at the end of the lane. Moments after this photo was taken I squeezed that little face and kissed him because I can.

Sissy tries to convince Bubba to use the racks provided for kids to help them bowl. Captain Independent was having none of it and insisted on hurling the ball down the lane. Each turn took approximately 34 minutes.

The DeFazio kids celebrating a successful turn. At this point Evan was just enjoying goofing off with the rack...it gave him something to do as the ball made its slow-ass way down the lane.

The Verdict

You voted and I listened! The results of last week's hair appointment in all of it's crazy-curly glory:

A little darker, we're dealing with the layers and please note the jazz hands. Transformation into Tina Fey should be complete by Spring. Woohoo!

*Editor's Note: I had been drinking for several hours at the time this picture was taken and would not - nay - COULD NOT stop doing the damn jazz hands. (Doesn't help that everyone encourages me by laughing when I do it. I'm four years-old, apparently.) Just didn't want you to think that I just go around busting out the jazz hands for no good reason.

Well, NOW What the Hell Am I Supposed to Name my Unborn Twins?

Because Gin and Juice? No more.

http://thesuperficial.com/2009/02/snoop_dogg_just_lost_all_his_s.php

It's either Sid and Nancy or Luke and Leia.

Snoop, how could you?

Grace in Small Things

1.) Seeing that Boy Chris became a fan of "Your Mom" on Facebook and nearly spitting coffee all over my keyboard.

2.) Getting my hair did tonight - so long frumpy ponytail!

3.) A buffalo and emu scramble for breakfast.

4.) Valentine's Day plans...

5.) Bright pink shirts from Target for $3.

6.) The phrase "Fat Kids Fried Drunk Camp for Lonely Fatties" because that is fucking hysterical.

What to Wear Wednesday: Special Double Issue

Today we have TWO questions and since I feel like an ass for making people wait, I'll address them both in one post. We'll call it a "Hotties from Pasadena" special edition if you will.

Our first question is from KB:

"When is it appropriate to wear brown and black together? I seem to scoff whenever I see them together."

I have never really been a fan of mixing black and brown. Call me a rule-follower or unimaginative, but I couldn't quite wrap my head around a way to mix the two but still create a cohesive outfit. BUT! My friend Roadtripper got me hooked on a fabulous fashion blog: http://whatiwore2day.blogspot.com/ and she has included some photos and examples of how she pulls this off. (Sidenote: I fully realize I am cribbing info from someone else, but I am also CREDITING the original artist like a good little English major so back off, OK?)

Here are some photos of how Kasmira, the author, mixes black and brown. While these outfits may not be everyone's cup of tea, I give her credit for linking the colors through accessories and managing to look purposeful rather than haphazard. It seems like you need to have a base, black OR brown, and then add accessories in the other color, and THEN a pop of something else just to keep yourself from being too boring. If you give it a whirl, send me some tips and photos!

Question #2 comes from Auditing Your Outfit and it is a doozy, kids.

"So my question does not pertain to fashion advice for myself (although I could definitely use it), but how to approach and solve the issues of others. And by others I do not mean the people I like to gawk at in Starbucks or at the grocery store. I mean those in my office. A place of business. A conservative corporate giant where it is supposed to be an honor to work (or something like that). All of these people have a college eduction, some even have a masters or a law degree. But for whatever reason, they cannot fathom that it is inappropriate to:

1) Wear pants that are a good inch too short (with white sport socks, sometimes)
2) Rock the camel-toe as though their names are actually Annie
3) Dress as though they can go directly from work to the club with ease
4) Sport 2-3 inches of cleavage (and still wonder why people don't look at thier face in meetings)

5) Appear in apparal my mother (or grandmother actually) would have been wearing circa 1986 (not in a cool retro way, let's not give people the benefit of the doubt here)

Those are the top 5.

Now I am not saying that its not okay to have commited one of the aforementioned offenses. It is NOT okay that committing the offenses is the norm rather than exception to the rule. It is an accounting firm people. Don't show up to work in an outfit that you stole from the set of Flashdance and think people are going to take you seriously in a meeting. Save that for when I see you at Starbucks or the grocery store. How, oh how do I even tell these people they are so so wrong? Please help."

Oh Auditing... It's like we work at the same place! Chico is a very casual, laid-back town and our entire campus reflects that vibe but damn, some people really take it to an extreme. Shorts and flip-flops are not the way to go when you work in an office. People use the hot summer weather as an excuse or claim comfort, but I am a firm believer that a skirt and nice sandals are just as comfy, cool and likely more flattering. And, you know, WORK APPROPRIATE.

We have a couple of issues going on here: inappropriate attire vs straight up fugly. Let's address the former first.

If someone who reports to you is dressing inappropriately (too casual, too revealing, whatever), pulling him or her aside for a little chat is fine. Or, you can have HR do your dirty work for you: a well-crafted memo reminding people of What is Acceptable and What is Not OK might help kick some butts into professional gear. Specific examples work here (mentioning cleavage, short skirts, etc) and you don't need to run around talking to everyone individually. And if you have an actual dress code for your office/corporation, post it or attach it to the memo. A procedure can be enforced. Bonus: YOU are not the Bad Cop. It's The Man keeping everyone down.

Now for the problem of bad taste. Yeah, if people are dressing within the confines of what is technically acceptable, but are doing so poorly (ie a suit with shoulder pads) there isn't much you can do unless you just want to start calling people out. Note: I am not really opposed to this, just not sure if you want to be known as the Style Police. If you are friends with one of the offenders, invite her to lunch near a store with some cute outfits in the window. Stop in front of the store and INSIST you go in and have her try something on. Rave about how freaking adorable she is until she buys it. Compliment the improvements to the wardrobe and point out flattering pieces.

I did this with a co-worker and there has been a marked improvement in her daily wear. Sure, she sometimes wears black pants with white socks and brown shoes (for reals) BUT more often than not she's looking more polished and like she put a little thought into her look. True story.
Sometimes a little positive reinforcement goes further than telling people they look like shit. Best of luck!

OK, I Will Call You "Varsity" If You Stop Emailing Me Pictures of Your Eyeball

From Cappa, who damn near scared the living shit out of me when I opened my email to find THIS:



Look who perfected the liquid eyeliner on the top AND bottom...and then documented it for praise and also to make me poop myself? Go Cappa...uh, I mean "Varsity!"

This Is a Crappy Excuse for a Post but I'm Taking All Kinds of Hell for My Hiatus

Hey Interweb...what's happening? (Say that like Bill in Office Space.) Apparently people actually read this thing because I have taken some crap for not updating the last couple of days. Um, sorry? Mama killed some brain cells this weekend and is planning to do an Afterschool Special/Very Special Episode-type of post COMPLETE WITH PHOTOS as soon as said pictures are procured. Hang in there - evidence of the full powers of my jackassery will be here soon.

In the meantime, here are some deep thoughts for you:

-I read this: http://www.whiskeymarie.com/2009/01/whats-wrong-with-me-part-7463.html and pretty much lost my shit because I play this same game ALL THE TIME. Meetings, the grocery store, coffee shop, random cocktail party: it's a sickness. But apparently someone else suffers from it so at least I'm not alone in the crazy. So, you know...good for me? I think? Anyone else out there want to cop to this kind of insanity?

-When did CSU Hayward become CSU East Bay? That's weird.

-It has come to my attention that after exhausting the armed forces I am now just collecting The Village People. The Indian Chief is going to be a challenge but I think I'm up for it.

-Don't you love those days when you kind of threw together an outfit and didn't really have time to do anything with your hair (which is an out of control mess anyway and probably beyond help) and yet people stop you in the hallway to say you look cute? Because I fucking love those days.

You Must Chill!

I don't know what the hell has come over me but this may be known as the Week of Extreme Spazziness. Examples?

-I stupidly had a cup of coffee at 3pm (I am seriously under doctor's orders NOT to do that if I intend to sleep that night) and by the time I got home at 5:30 I was completely hopped up. I went for a run hoping to burn off some of the crazy and, you know, get some exercise. It wasn't so much "running" as darting about and sprinting through my neighborhood. I didn't feel especially hungry but am glad I took my mom's advice and sat down to eat because if nothing else, food could help counteract some of the caffeine. Right? Mmmm...not so much.

-The run and some sleepy time tea seemed to lull me into a delightful peaceful state...only for me to bolt wide awake at 4am. Awesome! As someone who has suffered with insomnia, I have a pretty good bag of tricks on hand to relax myself and get back to sleep. But my brain? It had other ideas and WOULD NOT CALM DOWN. I started worrying about what I am going to wear to my friend Monica's wedding. Her wedding is in September. Yeah. I don't know what to say either.

-This week marked the completion and initial approval of a huge project I've been toiling away on for work. I won't bore you with the details, but this was one of those projects that went on and it seemed like it would never end. I had nightmares about submitting the report, but without a cover page and being told I had to start all over again. (What, YOU don't have stress dreams about work? Well, excuse me, Captain Well-Adjusted.) The shrieking and jumping and happy dancing that went on in my office when I received word that it was a go and being sent up to the next level of bureaucracy was akin to something you'd see at a cheerleading camp. I'm pretty sure I pulled something in the process, which is a true testament of my enthusiasm, ridiculousness and age. Go me! Also, I knocked into a filing cabinet during one of my little kicky-dance things and have a few lovely bruises on my leg. There are five year-olds with better impulse control.

Is this adult onset ADD? Or am I just plain nuts? The burst of energy isn't unwelcome and it's been a fabulous week so maybe I should just roll with it.

What to Wear Wednesday: Eyeliner How-To

My very first question comes from "Tammy F" in Minnesota:

"Okay... my first question... eyeliner.. whats the best way to apply it without making you look like a hooker?"

Hi Tammy!

This question could not be more perfect! I have struggled with eyeliner for years. Make-up people at every counter always want to put it on me and it ends up looking too severe, too raccoon-like. Not really the look you or I want to rock. Lately I've been experimenting a bit and have found a few variables help you stay on the right side of sexy.

Usually one of the first mistakes with eyeliner is color selection. Even applied perfectly, the wrong color is going to be horribly unflattering. Black is incredibly harsh for most people and can actually make your eyes look smaller, not bigger. Knowing you and your coloring, I'd opt for brown or even a deep plum. Dark greens can be pretty, too, as long as they aren't too yellow. I recommend Clinique's True Khaki; it comes with a blending spongey thingy on the other end to help correct mistakes. Perfect for an eyeliner novice! You want the eyeliner to complement your eyeshadow palette, so choose accordingly.

Now for the application: I learned this trick from Carmindy on What Not to Wear and oh sweet Lord, it works! Hold your eyelid taut. Start at the outer corner, and work your way in. BUT! Don't try to draw one, long, straight line. Make little dash marks very close to your lashline as you slowly move toward the inside. (I don't go all the way to the inside corner because my lashes are blonde and sparse there and it looks weird.) Play around a little and see what looks right for you. Start lightly and darken as you feel more confident; it's easier to add more than try to fix a heavy-handed approach. I tend to go for a subtle look that just makes my lashes look a little thicker and darker. If you want a bolder line, I would start small and build up, or get a thicker pencil. Sue Devitt makes great ones (excellent color selection and easy to use) that also come with the blending spongey thingy.

Another cause of Hooker Eyes (Is that even A THING? Yes, I am declaring it IS.) is too much eyeliner on the top AND bottom. You have options here. I tend to skip the bottom, and apply a little mascara instead. However, if you really feel you need a little somethin' somethin', I'd use the same approach , but focus on the outer corners.

If you're not into pencils, you can always pick up an eyeliner brush (the Sonia Kashuk line at Target has nice options) and dip it into an eyeshadow you like. Follow the same application technique as above. This usually has a softer effect and the color options might be more appealing.

Interested in liquid eyeliner? Um, yeah. You will need to consult someone who can handle it. That stuff is varsity level as far as I'm concerned, and always looks hookerish on me. Sorry.

Best of luck and send pictures of your hot look!

What to Wear Wednesday. Or Something Like That?

It's no secret that I like to tell people what to do and think my official title should be The Boss of You. We can blame it on being an only child for close to 28 years. Or being my mother's daughter.

With some prodding from FraochNiCymru, I am starting up a little advice column...but with a specific purpose. Can you guess what it is?

Well, I'll give you a hint:

Anyone who owns this much lip gloss knows her shit.

And anyone who owns THIS should not be ignored.

I know what you may be thinking. Aren't you the girl perpetually covered in crumbs? Didn't you used to have feathered bangs? And isn't there a picture of you in your high school yearbook sporting a top from Wet Seal with a matching fucking scrunchie? Yes, I will own up to all of the above. Let's just look past all that and move forward, mmmk?

Here is how this works: you send me a fashion or beauty related question and I answer it on Wednesday*. The more details you include, the better chance I have of providing actual help. Simple enough, right? Let's do this! Your questions could be about what to wear for a specific event, the right moisturizer for your skin, or ideas on how to use your new green clutch that doesn't "go" with anything else in your closet. You can email me or leave a question in the comments section.

Hit me with your best shot.



*Why Wednesday? Because it's Hump Day and that cracks me up. Don't look at me like that. This isn't parenting advice or finishing school, OK?

Grace in Small Things

1.) Friends who encourage my immaturity and revel in making jokes with the word "balls" in them.

2.) Hearing the phone ring, expecting it to be a telemarketer, and seeing Lili's name and number instead.

3.) Sour cream to put on my burrito (well, a burrito minus the tortilla) and tangellos in my salad.

4.) Tuesday is my Monday. Thursday is my Friday. Effin' A, Cotton. Effin' A.

5.) Coffee in the morning and string cheese in the afternoon.

My Favorite Things: What I'm Wearing

There have been some requests for photos of some of my Favorite Things in my wardrobe. It's Monday, I'm bored, and I have a camera. Let's do this!

Chicken Dress: I found this frock at a store here in Chico in their small "vintage" section. It was so 1950's and fun and inexpensive so I snagged it. Why is it called "The Chicken Dress" you ask? Because the pattern features flowers and chickens. Duh. I wore it to church with my grandma and she went crazy over it; I've seen pictures of her back in the day and she was one stylin' fox (how she managed that while wrangling five rambunctious boys I'll never know) so I'm taking that as a compliment. It's not lined and the skirt is see-through so I have to wear a slip with it, which actually makes me feel really proper and all Sandra Dee-ish.

This one's for you, Roadtripper... Please note the classy location for this photo shoot: my bathroom.

Black Boots: My quest for black boots was a complicated one, mostly because I am high-maintenance. I didn't want TOO high of a heel, or TOO pointy of a toe, and I also didn't want something that looked like it was straight out of Herman Munster's closet and I didn't want anything that looked like someone took a Bedazzler to it...my list of demands was ridiculous, really. Luckily DSW came to the rescue with this pair by Bandolino. Hallelujia!

How do I *really* know these are a winner? Gay men gave it the thumbs up.

Anthropologie Skirt: The skirt that made me Anthro's bitch for life. Eight years after its purchase I still wear it as much as possible and receive compliments on the unique style. Sometimes I worry it's a bit much. I mean, it's pretty bright and features sparkles - but if that doesn't describe me, I don't know what does. The material is soft and it makes me feel pretty. So there.

The bright colors! The beading at the bottom! So in love after all these years!

Pashmina Collection: All the haters out there can shut it. Go ahead and argue that pashminas are SO 1998. Whatever. They are cozy and can add some color to a blah outfit. And double as a blankie on an airplane. Magic! These photos should be proof that I have A Problem but they are all used, so I feel OK about that.

Exhibit A: The winter/fall color collection

Exhibit B: The spring/summer collection

Pink Clutch: Elisabeth sent this to me for my birthday one year and I may have actually squealed a little when I unwrapped it. It's completely girly - pink AND sparkly - which is nice for a tomboy like me.

Hello, Lover...

The Super Classy T-Shirt Collection: Lest you think I'm the Queen of England, here's evidence that CKD knows how to rock and roll all night, AND party every day. With, you know, breaks for snacks and napping of course. Probably the best purchases of 1998, really. The "Dick's" shirt is from a burger place in Seattle, hence the tagline "Where TASTE is the difference." I don't wear these shirts out in public anymore, but there was a time when I didn't think twice about sporting them out and about. My mom did not love that phase.

Van Halen, 1980 Invasion. Oh heeeelllll yes!

This shirt is so bright you can probably see it from space. Obviously, it was love at first sight.

Thirty-One

Birth: My mom was eight days past her due date when she finally felt like something was happening. She told my dad not to go to work and they headed to the hospital. I was born about eight hours later, early the next morning. My mom said she already knew I was a girl from the dreams she had, and exactly what my name would be.

One: My grandfather was recovering from open heart surgery and my mom was too worn out and emotionally exhausted to plan a party. From the pictures I've seen it looks like there was a cake and I still had very little hair.

Two: Looks like we had some family friends over to my grandma's for cake.

Three: I was sick, we didn't really do anything.

Four: I was sick again, but my mom was tired of me not having a proper birthday party. A bunch of people came over to our house, but in every photo I look feverish and miserable. Most of the kids have given me a good three feet of space since they can tell I am an incubus of plague.

Five: I had pneumonia and missed a month of school, but I got some new Barbies for the Barbie dream house I received at Christmas.

Six: We had cake and a small "party" at my kindergarten. I was healthy enough for school, which was nice.

Seven: I had pneumonia AGAIN and missed about a month of first grade. Kids from my class sent get well notes.

Eight: My friends Amber and Ashley came over for cookies after dinner. We were sad about the Challenger explosion the previous day and were scared from all the news footage that was shown every two seconds.

Nine: Straw Hat Pizza Parlor party with classmates and friends. I didn't like traditional cake or frosting or chocolate so my mom got me a cheesecake with fruit on the top, which was the best thing I had ever tasted in my life.

Ten: Elisabeth got to spend the night and we watched Sixteen Candles for the first time ever. Needless to say, it was a life-changing experience.

Eleven: I think Elisabeth and I were on the outs or something at this point...But my friend Chalis got to spend the night and my parents took us to the Hard Rock Cafe in San Francisco for lunch. Chalis gave me a crimping iron.

Twelve: I do not remember this birthday at all.

Thirteen: My grandpa had died a month earlier and I refused to celebrate. My mom finally convinced me to sit down for dinner with her, Dave, my dad and Grandma. I spent the meal being a petulant brat. Welcome to the teenage years. My mom gave me a beautiful garnet necklace. This did little to raise my spirits. I'm still in shock she didn't ship me off to boarding school on the spot.

Fourteen: I think there was a small surprise party and sleepover at Elisabeth's house? I don't remember.

Fifteen: Elisabeth, her mom and her Nana took me to see Guys and Dolls in San Francisco. We went to Coit Tower that night to look at the view and I knew at one point in my life I would live in the City.

Sixteen: My mom pulled a completely serious, unintentional Sixteen Candles and forgot it was my birthday until halfway through the day. Much like Samantha Baker, I was less than amused. She made up for it with gifts of jewelry, so we were good to go. Elisabeth and I were allowed to take the train to San Francisco by ourselves and spend the day up there. We shopped, ate root beer floats at Ghiradelli Square, rode a cable car and took a terrifying cab ride. That night my friends and I went out to dinner and had a sleepover while most of our high school went to the Winter Formal.

Seventeen: Went to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show dressed up rather...provocatively. For still being underage and all that, I mean.

Eighteen: Spent about two weeks celebrating this one...My mom and Dave took me to a fancy-pants dinner and gave me a pair of diamond earrings. Various dinners and movies out with friends, culminating in a surprise party for me at my friend Martha's house. I was so excited and touched I almost cried.

Nineteen: The first college birthday! My roommates and friends took me to Pizza and Pipes, where the organist made me stand up while he played Happy Birthday and everyone sang. We requested "Ragdoll" because thought we were hilarious. Come to think of it, we kinda were.

Twenty: My roommates took me to the one decent Mexican restaurant in Tacoma, the Tortilla Factory, I think? I'm sure at some point we ended up at Sigma Chi, getting drunk.

Twenty-One: Went to the Family Tavern for my first legal drink in a bar at midnight. Free drinks on my flight from Seattle to San Francisco. Cable car barhopping party complete with bartender ON THE CABLE CAR. Almost got kicked out of a biker bar for being too rowdy. Threw up all over the inside of a cab and Eileen had to pay the driver extra to let us stay and take us back to her place. Woke up the next day and couldn't find my pants. My mom and Dave gave me a Hawaiian heirloom ring with my middle name, Kaaihue, on it. I didn't wear it that night out of fear of losing it. (See aforementioned pants incident.)

Twenty-Two: Went to karaoke with friends and drank myself illiterate. Long Island Iced Teas+Microphone=Idiot. My mom was this age when she had me. Weird.

Twenty-Three: I threw a surprise party for a friend...not knowing another friend had arranged it so that it was also a party for me. Surprise! Brought my new boyfriend to meet my gang of friends and got the thumbs-up. Elisabeth sent me a gorgeous scarf from France.

Twenty-Four: Got food poisoning a few days prior, so I was remarkably slim after days of puking. My dad and stepmom met up with us after dinner and my stepmom bought us a round of tequila shots. This guy I had a crush on showed up and hung out for awhile. He is married now.

Twenty-Five: I had a cold and my mom and Dave took me to dinner. They gave me a pearl necklace. It was my first birthday without my grandma, and I had just gone back to school at CSU Chico.

Twenty-Six: Zero recollection of anything remotely remarkable happening, which leads me to believe I probably had another goddamn cold.

Twenty-Seven: Went dancing with some friends in Chico. Almost fell off the stage at LaSalle's. Not because I was drunk, but because I am THAT uncoordinated and spazzy.

Twenty-Eight: Accepted a job offer at Edward Jones in Pacifica. Jumped at the chance to work and live near my new baby brother.

Twenty-Nine: Freaked the fuck out over turning 29. No idea why.

Thirty: Eileen came out from New York to celebrate, which is kind of shocking (see Twenty-One) but was so touching nonetheless. Took a trip to the wine country with friends and felt like I was on the brink of an exciting beginning to a new chapter, rather than a sad end to one.

Thirty-One: I didn't wake up needing Sudafed or antibiotics, so already I'm feeling pretty good. I spent the last evening of 30 scaling a fence after locking myself out of the house, and I am surrounded by wonderful people and good wishes. But I kind of miss getting Barbies.

UPDATED: Katie called me at my desk to serenade me, and is taking me to La Comida for lunch. La Fucking Comida, bitches! Oh, hellooooo chimichanga with extra sour cream and guacamole. Come to Mama! I have also managed to flash my bra at half of my office, despite wearing a camisole. It's official: I am a special type of spazz.

UPDATED UPDATE: No chimichanga, but I thoroughly enjoyed my enchilada. The server tried to give me Diet Coke and I think it's a sign of my maturity that I did not pull a knife on her. Also, Katie alerted Campus Police that's it's my birthday and one of the officers announced it over the radio. Fantastic.

Speaking of Geeky Pursuits...

I know I've mentioned this before, but I had (OK, maybe still have) a big ol' honkin' geeky-ass crush on Commander William T. Riker of the Starship Enterprise. To clarify, I do not have a thing for the actor who portrays him, Jonathan Frakes, nor do I really seek out any of his other work. My dork-love is directed at Riker. Because, you know, that is totally normal.

My crush dates back to the early 90's, when my mom would watch Star Trek: The Next Generation, we only had one television, and I decided to watch it with her once. This is probably more than a little odd considering I was 12 or 13. I mean, there was a more age appropriate character on the show - played by Wil Wheaton! - and I'm all up in Number One's grill? Yeah, I'll just let a few of you armchair psychologists ponder this one for awhile.

In my defense, I found him hottest when he grew the beard, but before he started packing on the pounds. But even aging and a little weight gain didn't diminish my love. I'm crazy, not unreasonable, remember?

Behold the object of my affection:

Come on...kind of attractive for an uptight white guy? Maybe? No? OK.

Still not convinced of how awesome he is? Watch this little clip and tell me it's not a total panty-dropper:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvY3jVJJKEI

Anyway, I guess I'm kind of excited to share this because recently I've found kindred spirits in unlikely places and I'm hoping maybe some of you will open up about your semi-embarrassing crushes, past or present. Let's hear them. Oh, and I know I'm opening myself up to ALL KINDS of harassment and mockery, but the heart wants what it wants.