
9.26.2009
I Am A Freshman With A New Dress To Wear... Hear Me ROAR!

9.24.2009
A Tweet Here... A Tweet There...
I wouldn't know what to do with all the... "Space"
And I did have a facebook account, but I deactivated it and then activated it and then deactivated it and then activated it and then deactivated it again... because that is how I roll. Leave me alone... pay attention to me... leave me alone... pay attention to me... leave me alone. I usually activate it when I get a phone call from a friend who says "Have you seen so-and-so from high school? They look FABULOUS!" and I have to activate my account in order to admire the wonders of plastic surgery.
I opened a twitter account eons ago-but never posted anything. I think I signed up for it so that I could read Ashton Kutchers Tweets about Demi Moore... I can't remember, but I didn't tweet on it because I didn't want anyone stealing my brilliant thoughts-because there are thought stealers out there... and then one day I would be at the movies and enjoying my popcorn and milk duds and the movie would become very familiar to me, almost like deja vous... and then it would dawn on me that the movie was like a window into my brain and all of my thoughts would be played out on the big screen (with Cameron Diaz playing me of course) and I would not receive one royalty check in the mail and still be buying my designer labels at Plato's Closet (which is the greatest store in the world and if you do not have a Plato's Closet in your city... well you are missing out-but if you DO have one, drop what you are doing right now and go shopping!)
ANYWAY...
I decided that my thoughts aren't that earth shattering and I don't think anyone will steal them from my twitter... so I am twittering again, because sometimes I can't make a big ol' blog out of just thin air---although this one seems to be like a fart in the wind doesn't it?
So if you want to follow me and see what I am thinking at random times throughout the day-check it out... HERE
See ya there!
9.21.2009
Six Degrees of a Monday Swoon... Sort of.

*that really is my stylist-she is that beautiful!*






But, the main reason for this Six Degrees of Monday Swoon is none of the Swoonables above-it goes back to my hair stylist and the fact that when I was sitting in her "chair of magic" she had some rockin' tunes playing in the background.


9.16.2009
Please Forgive Me...
Enjoy you crazy Robward Pattinson Cullen weirdos out there...
You know who you are.
My question remains the same... if the movie is already done, why do we have to wait until November?
Seriously.
9.15.2009
Jackass...
Now listen, I will be the first to admit that I am not a Taylor Swift music fan. I am not a fan simply because her music is better suited for my daughter's age group of 14 year old giddy girls who get nervous around boys and want to fall in love with someone just because they wear Hurley t-shirts and have a cool cell phone...
I am more of the head-banging, angry rant music type of fan.
I can't help it.
But I will say this about that sweet blonde girl standing on that stage in front of millions of people-she has class.
She didn't do any of the things that I would have done if that happened to me-because when I see something unfair happening to someone, I have no problem speaking up-taking a stand and threatening to kick some jackass where the sun don't shine.
So congratulations to Taylor Swift-not for winning an award, but for earning something much more important in life-respect.
Atta girl.
9.13.2009
God Love The Irish On A Monday...




Oh Dylan, don't be so excited that you made the Monday Swoon. I know it will look fabulous on your resume, but you really need to contain your excitement. You cannot rely on my to get you the big jobs. I am sorry.


Oh. My. Goodness. I love the Irish. Here we have "Angry Irish." This is what 99.9% of my family looks like.

Here we have "boy next door Irish" which is a very good kind of Irish to be... unless your name is Timmy Murphy and you are 13 years old and the year is 1985 and my parents think you are up to no good even though you were an altar boy. I think it was the fact that he had a trampoline in his back yard and a spiked haircut... God Forbid!!!

And here we have "Scar Irish" which is another really good kind of Irish to be. Sure, he prolly got that scar in a silly wimpy kind of mishap... but since it is an Irish scar, I am willing to bet it had something to do with beer and a pub and fists and blood. Uh-huh.

Oh Mother of The Green Isle... here we have "Uterus ache Irish."
No description necessary.
9.12.2009
Hair Today... 5lbs. Lighter Tomorrow



9.09.2009
Is It Stalking If You Tell Them You Are Following Them?
Sure.
Anywho...
Every once in a while I take a walk around the blogsphere and meet new neighbors. I never talk to them mind you... that would be weird, but I do stalk them, because that is normal.
And I am all about being normal.
In my saunter through the vast yet tiny Internet I came across this site.
I fell in love instantly with Katie and wanted desperately to be her friend, or at least her older sister.
She recently took a road trip with her friend-and I couldn't help but smile when I watched this~
Road Trip from katie sokoler on Vimeo.
Don't you just want to go with them? Doesn't it just look like a load of fun!!!
Go read her blog and TRY not to smile. I dare ya... I bet you won't be able to do it.
She is a smile maker and I am all about passing on the fun!
9.07.2009
Introducing a New Superhero... VartanMan!

I love the ending-the way he almost doesn't make it to the ball field and the look of sadness on her face and then the look of joy when she sees him running down the stadium stairs, across the field and then he just walks right up to her and without a word takes her into his arms and kisses her.


Oh Michael-why do you look so irritatingly perplexed? I only asked you to explain football to me and then explain why the Cleveland Browns have such ugly uniforms...

This right here is proof that all men at one point or another need to walk around with a black eye. Hello tough guy. A black eye works for men-it makes women say "Oooh... he was in a fist fight!" and also "Ooooh, I would really like to nurse his wounds back to health." If men only knew what was really going on in our heads-we would be in BIG trouble.

This look right here... every woman wants a man to look at her like this when she walks into a room. Every woman wants a man to stop mid-sentence and gaze at them as if their breath has just been taken away. Every woman wants piercing eyes to look directly into hers and tell her that she is beautiful without a word being spoken.

Apparently Michael Vartan did not get that from the above photo either and he thinks it is pretty damn funny that women read so far into things when he was just looking at the clock on the wall above me when I walked in the room.
.
Dammit!
.
Oh well... Welcome to the Monday Swoon anyway VartanMan! May the Six-Pack be with you!
9.03.2009
Can I Carry Your Baggage For You?
All of my kids have been carriers in some way or another.
Well, Hope was more of a dragger... she used to tie string around the necks of her stuffed animals and drag them behind her everywhere she went. She had the string tied so tightly that if they were real animals we would have had to have them stuffed anyway after they had died from asphyxiation.
Aaron was a tucker... he used to tuck all kinds of things in his pockets. In the evening I had to empty his pockets and would find things like matchbox cars, marbles, dice, old crusty boogers, compost, and day old salami. You think I am joking.
Emma was a carrier... but she was a small time carrier. She would only choose one thing to carry-but the object changed from day to day. One day she would not be able to live without her baby doll, the next day she would have a melt down it I tried to take the ace of spades card away from her as that was her "carry" for the day, and I could tell you about the day Aaron saw the little old shoe piece from the Monopoly board game and tucked it in his pocket for the day without realizing that it was Emma's "carry" for the day and she had set it down for a mere second to go to the potty. I could tell you about that horrible frightful day... but I don't think I have the strength to go back and recount it yet. I still have nightmares.
Mary is a professional carrier. She will carry no less than 10 items every single day and she will have a melt down if she cannot get them all stuffed into her arms and balance them successfully as she manoeuvres through the house following me on my mundane tasks. An example of her treasures is FOUR... not one, but FOUR of her "nigh-nighs" which are little bits of blanket with an animal's head attached to it, one or two cups filled with soy milk or water (she likes variety in her drink) a book-and not your run of the mill little baby book that is small and square, no... she likes the BIG book that is in the shape of a duck, a puzzle piece (it is the horse piece-don't try and swap it out with the cow piece because she will know and she will cut you.) a naked Barbie (who is recently bald because of her disastrous hair appointment with a 6 year old) and the dog's collar-in case she needs to put it on the dog and drop all of the items in her arms and drag the dog around, in which case she becomes a dragger like her big sister.
I don't understand this.
It's not like I have to carry my cell phone around with me all day or I will freak out and start crying and throw myself on the ground and start kicking my legs and pounding my fists if I discover that I do not have it on me.
I only did that once I swear.
But then I found it in my back pocket and I was able to calm down.
No where near as neurotic as my children. The little maniacs.