WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-11/3/2013

I swore I wasn't gonna...but I did. I ate all the leftover Halloween candy. *Oh, the shame!* It was a lot. I'm not gonna lie or try to sugar coat it. *Pun intended* I pretty much have been binging, one bite sized piece at a time. And now its officially cold out here in The Midwest and its 'Cuddle Weather' and I'm still fluffy! Boo!*Yes, this is a drawing but its pretty much exactly what I look like right now without my clothes on. Except my boobs are not quite as awesomely huge. And yes, you're welcome perverts.*

So, yesterday I pulled it together, threw what was left of the candy out of my house, *You can't even donate Dum-dums, nobody wants them. They shouldn't even technically be classified as candy as they are utterly joyless.* and re-committed to my healthy eating and workout program. Which is why this post is gonna be short and sweet *Puns! Again, I think I'm super funny* because I still need to get my workout on tonight.

For the record, I am just trying to get My Pretty Girl Discount and be the best version of me. I'm still not trying to change everything about me, just the parts that are holding me back. *Like my fathead*

However, before I log off to get my beast mode on, I just wanna *Briefly* get my rant on first. Today, I was shocked to discover that Disney *Aka the Evil Empire* is trying to sex up all it's female characters. Luckily, when they tried to give Merida from BRAVE an extreme makeover, the internet went nuts. *Those trolls are good for something after all. Thanks guys! It's now safe to return to your steady diet of porn and commenting on Reddit.*

So Disney recanted and went back to the original design which made her more of a badass warrior than a wench at a local Ren Faire. *Power to the people, y'all!* But that hasn't stopped them from changing everyone else. Oh no! They have re-designed all the other Disney ladies, giving them nose & boob jobs, bigger lips, skinnier frames and way more makeup. They also downplayed anything that made them seem independent or strong. *Really, what is the difference between the way a porn star, Real Housewives of Wherever and a Disney Princess looks? Trick question. Now there is none*

This sucks! They are basically telling little girls that their only worth is in being the object of desire, not what they can accomplish or create with their brains or skills. Now, listen...I clearly have issues based on how I look and I *obviously* want to be considered as pretty as the next girl *Or prettier! I want to be the prettiest girl in all the land! Is that cool with you, mirror-mirror?*, but I'm also proud of who I am as a person. I've worked hard to be educated, kind and friendly and to become what *I hope* is  pretty much a well rounded person...not just a pretty person who is *Temporarily* round. My point is, women should be celebrated for both beauty and brains, not just one or the other. *And little girls especially, should not have to worry about being fuckable. What? Yes, I said it. Because basically, that's what this amounts to.*

 They also shouldn't have to fit into Disney's narrow definition of what is considered 'hot'. I mean, check out Princess Tiana. *The only African-American Princess* They gave her an obvious nose job among other things. *What does that say to all the young black girls out there? I mean don't they already have to go through enough without having to live up to the unrealistic expectations of a cartoon? *

But I get it, the sexier these princesses become, the more they have a shot at snagging the prince.  Listen I too, would love for Prince Charming to come *And not just on my face this time*

But I'm not gonna pretend to be something I'm not. And I'm not gonna be just waiting around for him *Singing to the birds, sleeping or scrubbing floors*. Instead, I'm gonna step away from the candy and rescue myself. And when he does show up I fully expect him to love all of me and not just the pretty parts. *And that fairy tale, has the best ending of all.*

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/13/13

 

I've noticed lately that I've turned into one of those people I've always disliked...a complainer. Oh sure, I disguise it with humor and a crackling display of sarcasm but I'm still a grumpy pants. This is mostly what I'm ashamed of...I've lost my sense of joy. Just getting happy about the simple pleasures in life used to be enough when I was a kid or even in my twenties but now that I'm *Sorta, kinda* all grown up...I seem to have lost my way.

So, this week I tried to recapture the magic. I banned all complaining *Which, if you've ever tried it lately is really super hard. Go on, try it for just an hour. I dare you!* and instead embraced getting back to the basics.

I went with a friend and her kids *Awesome, adorable, smart,  funny little people, not annoying in the slightest* to an old timey pumpkin patch. We meandered around pulling a wagon and loading up on gourds. And...it was actually fun! They didn't have a huge amount of pumpkins though due to the drought *Damn you Global Warming after effects* but I kept my mouth shut even though that meant we would have to make another trip to the grocery store to buy pumpkins for carving.  On our way home, we drove thru a nearby farm and the scent of cattle wafting in the air threatened to make me vomit in my mouth a little but I was determined not to break. I simply smiled instead. *And secretly vowed to eat a hamburger when I got home. Revenge meal. It's the circle of life!*

When I got home, I decorated my house with some fabulous Fall flair.

The only thing missing was a pumpkin spice scented candle. Because I might live in the suburbs now, but I still have my standards. No X-mas sweaters for me either. *Seriously? Does everything have to be pumpkin spiced this time of year? Yesterday, I saw a sign for a "Pumpkin Spice Pedicure. Really?* *Dammit! Did I just complain? Shoot!*

I also spent quality time this weekend raking leaves for the first time in my life *Not lazy. I just moved into my first house, remember?* and although, yeah...it wasn't on the same level as say, a frosty cocktail and the latest season of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I still enjoyed it.  I just put on some cute shorts, a pair of boots and went to work. No complaining allowed.

I raked for hours and in no particular order I also...

Saw a baby bunny rabbit
Killed a spider and decimated numerous webs *I hate spiders. They are the hardest working assholes on the planet*
Waved hello to a bunch of neighbors walking their dog
Chatted with a young girl riding her bike
Got an awesome workout
Threw in some major weeding as well because what the hell, I was already sweaty and gross

and finally, got shit on by a large goose. *Welcome to the neighborhood*

It took everything I had not to complain about that one and I'm so proud that I didn't. However, I might have screamed. Really loudly. *This was the most disgusting thing that has happened to me in a long, long time. It seriously was all over my clothes, hands, etc. Thank God I was wearing a hat*

But back to raking. I don't think I am disposing of my leaves correctly. Everyone else on my block had these special suburban brown paper bags, all neatly stacked at the end of their driveways. I just stuck mine in huge Hefty sacks and left them by the trash. But whatever, the job was done!

*I realize this photo is tilted. I couldn't get it adjusted. It was super frustrating. Not that I'm complaining or anything*

As I  walked inside I checked my phone for messages and noticed that I had a text waiting from an ex. "Hey Girl, what's up?" You know those trolling texts? The ones guys send out hoping that someone who was willing to have sex with them in the past might be desperate enough to somehow be willing to have sex with them again? *Save the planet, recycle*

In the past, I might have entertained the thought *I most likely would have also invited him over and entertained his penis as well. I'm an excellent hostess*  but now I'm too smart. I know that If I want my Pretty Girl Discount and want to be treated right as a woman...I can't act like I'm not worth much. I can't act like all it takes is a text and some superficial sweet talk.

So I deleted the text, refused to spend any energy complaining about what a jackwagon that guy was *Ha! That didn't count* and simply carried on.

And it felt good. It felt like joy.

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/6/2013

I'm getting pretty good at dodging bullets. I mean, I still don't notice when the gun gets loaded or when its pointed directly at my face, but at least now I duck when it goes off. At least now, I don't get shot.  I just have excellent battle stories to tell and this week is no exception.

Online Dating Disaster Number One.

I emailed with this dude *Mr. Marijuana* a couple of times and then we talked on the phone twice. He was highly aggressive, funny as hell and very intense. And although he seemed a tad bit controlling off the bat, he works as a video game designer and I thought we might have a lot in common as I also work in the entertainment industry. If I'm being honest, it was a little troubling that the first time we chatted he admitted he was super high and the second time we talked he was in the middle of a house party and busy drinking himself into oblivion. *Somewhere in the future there is a twelve step meeting waiting for him to show up*

He texted the next day to say he was proud of himself that he hadn't drunk dialed me all night to tell me how much he liked me. *At this point my expectations are so low, I was just relieved that some guy I had never even met before didn't wake me up in the middle of the night.*

We both were pretty busy so we arranged to have a coffee date Thursday afternoon. I was really looking forward to it and went all out curling my hair, slapping on the full face drag and wearing a super cute, casual outfit that didn't scream *Catfish*

When I first approached him at Espresso Royale, *Best latte's evah!*

 I don't think either one of us was very thrilled by each other physically. How could I tell, you ask? Well, he never said one word about how I looked and for my part, he was 6'5 about a buck fifty and pretty unkempt. *Like, no effort whatsoever had been made in the grooming department which included a scraggly, unshaven facial mess, longish fingernails and  dirty jeans* But I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt so I sat down and waited for him to offer to buy me a cup of coffee *Yes please* or a tea or a cookie or something *He never offered*

Instead he launched into a rapid fire monologue about his career and what he wanted to do with his life. *He never asked any questions about me so I tried to add personal info about myself in the brief seconds when he was forced to inhale. I was mildly successful* He also commented about how "pricey" the drinks here were. *Uh-huh*

Suddenly he launched into an insane lecture about the merits of weed. How, "It has no side effects whatsoever" and "Is actually really good for you" and "How he knew what he was talking about because he had done the research" *His friend Justin gets high all the time and told him it was true and so there you have it. Conclusive proof*

When I told him that while I didn't care if people smoked weed *It just isn't my thing but I'm not super judgy about it* however I wasn't going to agree that it was good for you, he tried to convince me I was wrong. When I respectfully suggested that we should agree to disagree, he told me I was uptight and had issues with weed. I kept trying to change the subject over & over but this dude would just not get off his ridiculous obsession with weed. His lecture lasted over thirty minutes.*Thirty minutes!* When he loudly declared that, "Unlike alcohol, nobody has ever killed anyone by driving while high" and I disagreed stating that surely at some point in the history of the world this has actually happened before. He demanded to see my proof.  *Really? Cause I travel with prepared power point presentations just for situations like this, you jack wagon.*

Having finally reached my limit, I just stood up and told him I had to get back to work. Aaaand, that's when he stared yelling and arguing that I should give him more of a chance, that I was wrong for not wanting to date him and it was my fault I didn't like the conversation since I was the one who had such an "issue" with weed.

I told him all I wanted was to get to know him better (and for him to get to know me) and I had no interest in debating the merits of weed. He literally yelled at me that weed, "Is me. It is super important to me, its what I'm passionate about and you should know that. This is getting to know me." *I have learned that you really can't argue with crazy so I just walked quickly to my car and drove away into the sunset.*

*Bullet dodged*

Online Dating Disaster Number Two

Since I was on such a roll, that same night I chatted with another dude I had been emailing online. He was a little reserved *Depressed? Suicidal? Or just polite. Hard to tell really* and was recently out of a relationship *I know, I know* but seemed, by comparison to be relatively sane. So far, so good. However the next night, Friday, he texted me at 8pm asking what I was doing right then and if I wanted to get together. I was already out with friends but told him I could meet up on Saturday night. *I should have known* He texted back "Cool." So, I thought we were on but Saturday night came and went and no sign of Mr. Newly Single. *I'm guessing that he was trying to reintroduce his penis back into the wild and since I wasn't interested in having sex with a guy I had never met before, he moved on to greener, skankier pastures*

At this point, I just thanked God for little favors *Bullet number two dodged* and kept it moving. So, instead of spending my night with yet another dating disaster I settled down with the giant Jenga tower of camp that was Lifetime's, "House of Versace". 

What can I say? The wigs, the terrible, over the top Italian by way of The San Fernando Valley accents, the coked out supermodels sashaying down the runway to bad euro trash beats plus Gina Gershon and Rachel Welch! *Oh, the low budget glamour of it all! * My inner gay man was very, very happy!

So, while I am deeply ashamed that this week I wasted even more of my life on men that have less common decency than a twerk, I will never regret the two hours I spent with the day shift hooker version of Donatella Versace-because it was the most satisfying thing I had all week.

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY 9/29/13

Hey Pretty People! Today I'm starting a new blog feature-WALK OF SHAME SUNDAYS! It's my weekly recap about all the unholy mess I've gotten myself into lately.

Weirdly, this week I actually didn't dabble in the dark side too much. However, I should confess that I did set up a couple of coffee dates with online dating dudes that might be slightly inappropriate. As usual, I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt.  One is for this Tuesday and the other is on Friday. So, we shall see!

*Obviously, if they show me their dick in a parking lot or do anything else that might be construed as ridiculously wrong, you will be the first to know. Promise! *

In my free time, I also wandered around half heartedly doing housework, eating far too many chocolate chip cookies *I'm not saying how many. More than is socially acceptable but less than a binge. You do the math* At a karaoke party Friday night I chose Billy Joel's Moving Out as my solo number.  *Not a huge Billy Joel fan, I just love yelling, Heart Attack-Ack -Ack-Ack-Ack at the top of my lungs. Try it sometime. It's awesome* and most shameful of all, I downloaded Miley Cyrus's Wrecking Ball from iTunes Saturday night at 2am. *And I was dead sober so really, there is no excuse for that kind of reckless behavior*

There you have it. My week in a nutshell. Not as embarrassing as going home at 3am with my panties in a wad and my eyeliner smeared halfway down my face...but still not my proudest moment. x

SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL-THE ORIGIN STORY

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MAD, BAD AND OBSESSED WITH PLAID

I'm a redhead.

I'm super proud of this fact. Cause frankly, Gingers rule! However, it hasn't always been easy growin up red. *Suck it Jay-Z, you got nothing on me!* My people are Scottish and Irish. I'm so pale that I sparkle in the sun just like a teenage vampire. And I'm stocky. It's as if God decided to make my calves strong and my hips huge so that I could work in the fields longer...in between bouts of giving birth to one of my many litters of children of course. *Which would be awesome if Braveheart  was looking to find him a wife but men these days usually prefer a little less meat on the bone, or just prefer to bone really skinny chicks, which I'm not.*

Have you ever tried to put a pleated kilt over a big, fat ass? *Sooooo, not a good look.* Neither are the thick white socks that come with it whose only purpose as far as I can tell is to make my calves closely resemble a Medieval Times turkey leg. *These are the childhood traumas that haunt my dreams, people. Welcome to my nightmare.*

I grew up close to the beach in Orange County but instead of surfing, I spent weekends going to The Highland Games, listening to bagpipe music and being forced to eat liver and onions (plus bacon) every Sunday night. And you don't even want to know about the haggis...trust me.

*So, yes, basically I am that little girl from Brave but without the castle and mad archery skills.*

Being that my people are Gordon Highlanders, my entire life I've loved plaid but lately I've noticed that the world is trying to steal its thunder. It's like everyone wants in on the
#PlaidFad. Farmers, Golfers, Japanese Schoolgirls, hipsters, grumpy old men, hardcore punks, popstars, cowboys, A&F douchelords and Ren Faire role players. They are all mad for plaid.

 

 

 

 

 It's not fair, because as a ginger I feel that plaid belongs to us. It's our special right to wear it...not the world's. Redheads notoriously get shafted. We're shorthand for; cranky, unruly, angry, weird, strange, oversexed outsiders. And while *Yeah, that's pretty much true*, who wants to be reminded of that constantly? We lack the ability the tan, we're referred to as Pippi Longstocking by unfunny strangers on the street and we're the step-children nobody wants. At least let us have the fashion we are entitled to.

I say that we should start a #RedheadRevolution and take back what is rightfully ours...plaid! I nominate either Rupert Grint or Ewan McGregor as our trusted leader. Now, who's with me? *If you had deducted with your "scary good" sleuthing powers that my nomination was a sadly transparent and publicly desperate attempt to get either of these super hot gingers to contact me, you would be correct. Way to go Nancy Drew.*

So, problem solved! Redheads will hereafter reign supreme, cloaked in signature plaid which belongs solely to us! Now if I could only find a Scottish man who is willing to date a partner with two legs, I'd be all set.

THE BIGGER, BETTER DEAL

These days, everyone seems to be doing it. Looking over their shoulder at what lies just beyond in an endless attempt to upgrade. They want a better job, a better romance, a better life.

And I’m no different. I too want it all. I want the Pretty Girl Discount; want to be treated with respect and privilege. I want the world to toss me a smile and a wink as it rolls out the red carpet.

But I’m realistic. My priorities aren’t completely out of wack. I got this. I know who I am and what I should be aiming for. I don’t date out of my league. I stay in my lane.

Which is why my most recent online dating story is the most disturbing so far.

 I’m not gonna go into all of the sordid details, cause really, it’s not that important. But here are the vital facts:

Boy meets girl online.

Boy and girl have crazy chemistry and start talking and texting numerous times a day. The words baby and sweetheart mysteriously appear. The first text of the day and the last call before bed quickly become a daily occurrence.

Girl tells boy she is slightly chubby (#truthtalk) at the moment and working on getting healthy. Boy tells girl he just lost fifty pounds and likes a woman with a “real body”. He’s not worried. She is. She sends pics. Lots and lots of pics. *Some of which might have been naked pics. I’m not confirming nor denying that fact. Awkward. Let’s just move on, shall we?* He sees her photos and likes what he sees. A lot. Girl stops worrying.

Boy sends pics. He’s cute but never smiles. Not once. When girl asks about this boy tells her, “He doesn’t like the way his face crinkles up.” Girl thinks that’s weird and random but dismisses it cause she likes him.

One night, boy tells girl he has “A mild case of Cerebral Palsy. “ Girl googles this. Can’t find “mild case of” as it relates to CP anywhere but likes boy and is willing to go with it. He describes it as just having a “Little bit of a pimp walk.” Nothing serious.

Girl thinks that maybe having a little Cerebral Palsy might be a fair trade off for being chubby? Not sure. They make plans to meet.

Three days later, boy comes over to girl’s place and within minutes it’s clear that:

Boy has a serious fucking case of Cerebral Palsy.

Boy also has a condition where he has trouble looking people in the eyes. When she asks about the massive lack of eye contact that’s currently happening in the room, he mentions, “He is trying to work on it.” *Oh ok, good to know.*  

Boy also has really, really bad teeth (Black, rotting, crooked) and that’s why he barely opens his mouth, let alone smiles. Girl is no Shallow Hal but jay-us, boy has the teeth of an 1850’s Welsh coal miner. *So beyond not hot.*

After some intense and unsatisfying fumbling on the couch *Well, it was worth a shot* and a painful, semi-silent dinner at Outback Steakhouse *Classy!* boy turns to girl and demands to immediately take her home. It’s 9:30 pm.

So finally and most importantly, it is really super clear that boy…thinks girl is not good looking enough for him.  *Let’s pause for a moment and take that in, shall we?  Yes, surprise! Girl is the unattractive one in this story.*

That’s right…girl gets dumped by boy with Cerebral Palsy. *Brutal.*

*And no, before you ask, there was not anything else that happened or didn’t happen to scare him away. He straight up thought he could do better. Trust! *

Girl is in denial so she texts boy the next day. No answer. Girl can’t believe this is really happening. She texts one more time. Girl never hears back from boy.

The Bigger better deal strikes again.

My not so secret theory is that no matter what kind of baggage a guy is hauling around, he still thinks he deserves a 22 year old, smoking hot supermodel with a bra size bigger than her IQ who lives to make him happy.

God forbid he should commit to an average woman and miss his shot at eternal, endless bliss.

Obviously, I'm not a baby supermodel so I find this attitude beyond frustrating.

 I mean, I was willing to overlook this dude’s stuff…having Cerebral Palsy wasn’t even a deal breaker for me (*!*)…but somehow, I was the one who came up lacking.

It makes me question if by accepting him I was actually inviting him to reject me…I mean, in his mind I couldn’t have been that great if I was willing to put up with all that, right?

Oh, I don’t know. Whatever. I’m over thinking everything as usual. The point is, it was an epic Pretty Girl Discount Fail…but I’m still focused on improving me and moving forward, no matter what happens along the way.

So, to that end, I shook it off and took a field trip to my special happy place, Sephora, to check out the latest beauty products for fall. Because nothing heals the heart like a little shopping, right?

 

  

 

The first thing I found was this: Josie Maran Aragon Cleansing Oil. This product is genius!

I always have a really hard time getting all my eye makeup off without stripping my face of every last drop of moisture. I tried this stuff and it really works. It's oil but once you add water, it just seems like a mild, soapy cleanser and it totally removed all traces of my ultra black mascara with having to rub too hard. Plus, it wasn't super pricey-@ twenty bucks or so and if it will stop me from looking like a bedraggled raccoon...its priceless! 

 

I also loved all the new nail colors for fall. *Fancy!*

I guess gel nail polish is the latest deal. Which sounds amazing. My nails always end up chipping after three days max, whether I do them myself or pay for a professional manicure and it drives me crazy. So gel polish seems like a miracle solution.

I’ve never tried it but I have a friend who swears by it. Does it really last longer? I’d love to know…if you’ve given it a shot, hit me up and let me know if it works for you!

Finally, I decided to grab some on the go teeth whiteners. Mostly because I never want to be the person who’s rejected because of my teeth. I think because I suffered through nine years *Nine years!!!* of orthodontia that I like a good looking mouth on a man. So, I guess in the end, having bad teeth is the real deal breaker for me.

I like these little refresher thingys from Go Smile. You take one out, snap it to activate the gel and then apply it directly to your teeth. It takes about five minutes, max and really does work.

I got the thirty pack for thirty bucks and unless you go hogwild, this baby will last more than a year so its actually a steal.

So, as usual, I'm unsure as to when God is gonna give me my bigger, better deal. When I will finally be graced with a permanent Pretty Girl Discount, but you know what? When it does finally show up…You better believe I'll be smiling and my teeth are gonna be white! #TruDat!