I heart the fourth grade. That’s what the blue stamp read on my hand. I heart the fourth grade. Normally, I would have noticed this first thing, but I was sidetracked by the late thirty-something/early forty-something male who asked me if I was a “student” while taking my money to enter my niece’s basketball game. No, not college student, High school student. I wanted to leap across the counter and kiss him. Full on smack right on the lips. At that moment in time I didn’t know who he was nor did I care…he was my new best friend.
You see, I’m turning 30 in less than 18 days. IN LESS THAN 18 DAYS I WILL NO LONGER BE IN MY 20’S…I WILL OFFICIALLY BE OLD. Where’s my paper bag…seriously…where’s my paper bag….
No, I am NOT overreacting. This is a real- life legitimate concern for me. I will no longer be 29…I WILL BE 30. The only thing that is keeping me sane while I cross the proverbial bridge into Thirtysomething is the fact that I will be in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico on the big day…if not for the beach, sun, and cocktails I would most probably be on suicide watch right now. Seriously.
But back to the High school student thing. Do you even realize what kind of sanity-saving moment that was for me? It made me realize one thing, you’re only as old as you appear to be...or as young as you look to the person who is looking at you who probably needs a new eyewear prescription or is just really bad at judging age.
What am I doing here? I’m overanalyzing this. Of course he thought I was 18, because I LOOK like I’m 18. Yeah, that’s it.
(Humor me people, please…just this once…)
Monday, February 27, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
It's here!
Sorry for such a long break in between posts. My fingers are still thawing, and I can probably say the same thing for Danika since we were both just driving convertibles in unseasonably cold weather.
In other news...It's arrived! Thanks to my sweeping victory of the Big Mega Bowl Game Virginity Contest I am now the proud owner of a gold plated Detroit Superbowl XL pin, all shiny and new right in the package sent along with a nice note from "The Lowe" himself. (Ok, so maybe my victory wasn't exactly sweeping, but hey, I won nonetheless.)
Anyway, we leave for Puerto Vallarta in less than three weeks and I have decided that the pin is coming along. I plan on documenting the pins journey by taking photos of random people wearing the pin, the pin on the beach with a cocktail and so on and so forth. And I'm starting with the first picture of "The Pin" on Lola.
Which brings me to my newest dilemma...What to name "The Pin!" I don't want to just call it "The Pin"...I need something more intimate and character-like. Any suggestions?
In other news...It's arrived! Thanks to my sweeping victory of the Big Mega Bowl Game Virginity Contest I am now the proud owner of a gold plated Detroit Superbowl XL pin, all shiny and new right in the package sent along with a nice note from "The Lowe" himself. (Ok, so maybe my victory wasn't exactly sweeping, but hey, I won nonetheless.)
Anyway, we leave for Puerto Vallarta in less than three weeks and I have decided that the pin is coming along. I plan on documenting the pins journey by taking photos of random people wearing the pin, the pin on the beach with a cocktail and so on and so forth. And I'm starting with the first picture of "The Pin" on Lola.
Which brings me to my newest dilemma...What to name "The Pin!" I don't want to just call it "The Pin"...I need something more intimate and character-like. Any suggestions?
Friday, February 17, 2006
Poopin in the Cold...the life of Lola
It's minus three degrees below zero out this morning with a windchill of minus twenty-seven degrees below zero. It's fucking cold. The high today in good old Minneapolis MN is expected to reach a whopping zero degrees.
I've never seen Lola run around the yard so fast to try and find a place to poop. Can you imagine pooping outside when it's this cold out?
Poor Lola.
Therefore those of you who are residing in warm climates can kiss my ass, and kiss my dogs ass. You suck. (Not really, but it just makes me feel better, so let me have my fun. Thanks.)
On the bright side, only 23 days till Puerto Vallarta. Thank God.
I've never seen Lola run around the yard so fast to try and find a place to poop. Can you imagine pooping outside when it's this cold out?
Poor Lola.
Therefore those of you who are residing in warm climates can kiss my ass, and kiss my dogs ass. You suck. (Not really, but it just makes me feel better, so let me have my fun. Thanks.)
On the bright side, only 23 days till Puerto Vallarta. Thank God.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
UPDATE:To Brush With Death Part V (See next post)
UPDATE : New curling iron shown to give "saucier" waves.
Jenni's Brush With Death Part V With *Bonus Brush With Death Glossary!
Welcome to yet another edition of "Jenni's Brush With Death." To be perfectly honest with you I had to actually look back to see which number I was on...These brushes with deaths seem to happen a little too often.
Anyway, yesterday while curling my hair I almost bought the farm. For those of you who know me you're probably asking yourself, "Why does she curl her hair? She has naturally curly hair." And my answer to that is, if you have naturally curly hair you always want your hair to be a different kind of curly. My hair, is curly in the cross between Diana Ross on jerry curl and Erwin Fletcher kind of curly, so I run a curling iron through it to give it saucy waves.
I digress...Anyway where was I? Oh, I was standing in the bathroom when all of a sudden this large spark leaped through the air and landed in the sink causing me to screech and jump back. I looked around and the cord was brushing the sink which was a little wet, I thought maybe that was what caused the spark so I moved the cord and resumed curling my hair.
About 3 minutes later I had the iron in my hair when "BOOM!" This enormous fireball soared across the room. I simultaneously dropped and unplugged the iron from the wall and looked to where it landed as it was still smoldering below the sink. I decided that my hair had enough saucy waves and inspected the iron and much to my shock, this is what I found...
Take note of the exposed wires pouring out of the protective casing which I have to say is no longer protective, but more of a death trap. Yup, time to throw away the trusty iron and purchase a new one. Here's to cheating death yet one more time.
*New? Check out my other Brushes With Death in my "Bonus Brush with Death Glossary!"
Brush With Death Part I (aka "The Day I Almost Died.)
Brush With Death Part II
Brush With Death Part III
Brush With Death Part IV
Anyway, yesterday while curling my hair I almost bought the farm. For those of you who know me you're probably asking yourself, "Why does she curl her hair? She has naturally curly hair." And my answer to that is, if you have naturally curly hair you always want your hair to be a different kind of curly. My hair, is curly in the cross between Diana Ross on jerry curl and Erwin Fletcher kind of curly, so I run a curling iron through it to give it saucy waves.
I digress...Anyway where was I? Oh, I was standing in the bathroom when all of a sudden this large spark leaped through the air and landed in the sink causing me to screech and jump back. I looked around and the cord was brushing the sink which was a little wet, I thought maybe that was what caused the spark so I moved the cord and resumed curling my hair.
About 3 minutes later I had the iron in my hair when "BOOM!" This enormous fireball soared across the room. I simultaneously dropped and unplugged the iron from the wall and looked to where it landed as it was still smoldering below the sink. I decided that my hair had enough saucy waves and inspected the iron and much to my shock, this is what I found...
Take note of the exposed wires pouring out of the protective casing which I have to say is no longer protective, but more of a death trap. Yup, time to throw away the trusty iron and purchase a new one. Here's to cheating death yet one more time.
*New? Check out my other Brushes With Death in my "Bonus Brush with Death Glossary!"
Brush With Death Part I (aka "The Day I Almost Died.)
Brush With Death Part II
Brush With Death Part III
Brush With Death Part IV
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
A Day Late and A Dollar Short
Well, actually 688 dollars short. That's what I'm out after sitting in the Auto Repair Shop yesterday for 7 hours while they fixed my car. Which brings me to my Haiku for "Haiku Tuesday"...although it's Wednesday...nevermind.
Auto repair shop
Six hundred dollars for brakes
Where's my vasoline?
And that's not all...the following is an excerpt from a draft I wrote during hour 5. Enjoy.
Today I was held hostage by my car, aka, "The Rollerskate." I'm not talking "hostage", my car pointed a gun at my head and demanded things "hostage," I'm talking my car decided to want new brakes and then wouldn't start after I've already waited at the Auto repair shop for five hours kind of hostage.
And for a special bonus, turns out when you spill break fluid on corroded spark plugs your car doesn't start.
Sweet.
It also turns out that when you sit there and stare at a Pepsi machine and 9-inch television for hours on end you tend to go a little batty. Like the kind of batty that makes you want to throw the uncomfortable chair that your ass has been planted in all morning and half the God-forsaken afternoon out the mother-fucking window. That kind of batty.
Actually, I am normally a very patient person, but when a job that was supposed to take two hours takes five (and counting) it tends to wear that patience a little thin...or more like stretch it to the point of snapping.
(Flick the paper in a way that makes it snap...like my patience)
My handwriting sucks. Seriously. It's a wonder how I can read one word I wrote on this page. Has my friendly laptop lead to the destruction and consequential demise of what used to be my artform? My beautiful handwriting that no resembles that of someone with Parkinsons and a pen?
Shit.
Auto repair shop
Six hundred dollars for brakes
Where's my vasoline?
And that's not all...the following is an excerpt from a draft I wrote during hour 5. Enjoy.
Today I was held hostage by my car, aka, "The Rollerskate." I'm not talking "hostage", my car pointed a gun at my head and demanded things "hostage," I'm talking my car decided to want new brakes and then wouldn't start after I've already waited at the Auto repair shop for five hours kind of hostage.
And for a special bonus, turns out when you spill break fluid on corroded spark plugs your car doesn't start.
Sweet.
It also turns out that when you sit there and stare at a Pepsi machine and 9-inch television for hours on end you tend to go a little batty. Like the kind of batty that makes you want to throw the uncomfortable chair that your ass has been planted in all morning and half the God-forsaken afternoon out the mother-fucking window. That kind of batty.
Actually, I am normally a very patient person, but when a job that was supposed to take two hours takes five (and counting) it tends to wear that patience a little thin...or more like stretch it to the point of snapping.
(Flick the paper in a way that makes it snap...like my patience)
My handwriting sucks. Seriously. It's a wonder how I can read one word I wrote on this page. Has my friendly laptop lead to the destruction and consequential demise of what used to be my artform? My beautiful handwriting that no resembles that of someone with Parkinsons and a pen?
Shit.
Friday, February 03, 2006
WTF? FRIDAY! (*New!)
Welcome to Swank or Skank's first ever installment of, What the Fuck? Friday!
So, I was parousing the selection of Eames lounge chairs at the Marshall Field's home store when I came across this sculpture of what appears ot be a gigantic dick doing his deed over someone's dining room table. Now, I appreciate art just as much as the next guy, but this was somewhat mortifying. Mortifying enough for me to take a picture with my camera phone and create a post about it.
The nightmares have yet to taper off. Thanks for asking.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Why I love my job.
The following is an excerpt from and actual conversation I recently had with a client.
M(Me): (Picking up cell phone) Hello?
C(Client): Is Pedro there?
M: What can I do for you **Bob?
C: I need 4.79% for 72 months.
M: No
C: Why not?
M: I can’t give you 4.79% for extended term we talked about this.
C: Come on…PLEASE?
M: What’s the last thing I said to you yesterday before I walked out of your office?
C: And if you try and touch my ass one more time I’m going to punch you in the stomach?
M: (Pause) Ok, what’s the second to the last thing I said to you yesterday before I walked out of your office?
C: No 4.79% for extended term?
M: That’s right. (Click)
And that’s why I love my job.
** Names have been changed to protect the oh so valiant and spotless integrity of my clients.
M(Me): (Picking up cell phone) Hello?
C(Client): Is Pedro there?
M: What can I do for you **Bob?
C: I need 4.79% for 72 months.
M: No
C: Why not?
M: I can’t give you 4.79% for extended term we talked about this.
C: Come on…PLEASE?
M: What’s the last thing I said to you yesterday before I walked out of your office?
C: And if you try and touch my ass one more time I’m going to punch you in the stomach?
M: (Pause) Ok, what’s the second to the last thing I said to you yesterday before I walked out of your office?
C: No 4.79% for extended term?
M: That’s right. (Click)
And that’s why I love my job.
** Names have been changed to protect the oh so valiant and spotless integrity of my clients.
Monday, January 30, 2006
It must be the paint fumes...
I painted my kitchen this weekend, which corroborates a strange kitchen-painting trend happening here in Minneapolis. It literally took me two whole days, with priming taking place Friday Night and the actual painting on Saturday. You see, the problem with my kitchen is it has so many corners, nooks, crannies, and wall space that it seemed like it took me FOREVER! Plus, the previous color was red so the primer was an absolutely necessity because normally, I skip that step at all costs.
So, I’m blaming the paint fumes for anything strange and unexplainable that happens to me for the next week or so. Which brings me to the conversation I had with my 72 year old father yesterday at breakfast.
My mom and dad came to visit for the day and took me out to breakfast. While we were sitting there drinking our tea, my dad looks at me and asks, “How many channels do you get on your cable?”
Not knowing where any of this was going I simply said, “I don’t know, does that include the music channels? Because if it does I get like 900 or so.”
“Do you get channel 555?” And he didn’t say it like that, you know five hundred fifty five…he said it like five-five-five.
“Um, I don’t know…well, you know we have different cable company’s so my channel five-five-five is probably not the same as yours.”
“There’s porno on my five five five. I tried to record it the other day to show your mother but I couldn’t figure out how to set the VCR."
Silence (Crickets chirping crickets chirping crickets chirping)
I looked over at my mom who looked at me like she already knew this little tidbit of unnecessary information.
“So, what you’re telling me, is you tried to tape porn to show mom? Like you couldn’t take her over the TV and show it to her? She was most probably sitting over in the other room anyway.”
That’s where as far as I’m concerned the conversation ended, despite his attempt to try and get me to explain that he most probably has to set channel five- five- five in the VCR to be able to record anything, I wasn’t going there.
So, I’m blaming the paint fumes for anything strange and unexplainable that happens to me for the next week or so. Which brings me to the conversation I had with my 72 year old father yesterday at breakfast.
My mom and dad came to visit for the day and took me out to breakfast. While we were sitting there drinking our tea, my dad looks at me and asks, “How many channels do you get on your cable?”
Not knowing where any of this was going I simply said, “I don’t know, does that include the music channels? Because if it does I get like 900 or so.”
“Do you get channel 555?” And he didn’t say it like that, you know five hundred fifty five…he said it like five-five-five.
“Um, I don’t know…well, you know we have different cable company’s so my channel five-five-five is probably not the same as yours.”
“There’s porno on my five five five. I tried to record it the other day to show your mother but I couldn’t figure out how to set the VCR."
Silence (Crickets chirping crickets chirping crickets chirping)
I looked over at my mom who looked at me like she already knew this little tidbit of unnecessary information.
“So, what you’re telling me, is you tried to tape porn to show mom? Like you couldn’t take her over the TV and show it to her? She was most probably sitting over in the other room anyway.”
That’s where as far as I’m concerned the conversation ended, despite his attempt to try and get me to explain that he most probably has to set channel five- five- five in the VCR to be able to record anything, I wasn’t going there.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Frightening Fluorescent Lightbulb Update
This morning after my Step class I walked into the locker room only to see a woman, mid 50's standing completely naked under the frightening fluorescent lightbulbs with a towel wrapped around her head violently shoving her kleenex covered finger in and out of her nose. I wanted to rip out my eyeballs and flush them down the toilet...it was the most horrible thing I've ever seen. Ever.
I will never be the same.
I will never be the same.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
To Whom it May Concern (Alternate Title Serpenite Schmerpentine)
To the douchebag at the gym who decided to replace the older, less frightening fluorescent bulbs above the women's vanity with 11 thousand watt ones can kiss my ass. I don't pay $60 a month to stare at every sun spot, freckle and potential wrinkle under lights that could most probably double as high powered grow lamps. You suck.
To the guy who rang up my groceries last night at Kowalski's. The four gold rings that you wear on each consecutive finger will not help get you laid. Infact, they are most probably preventing you from scoring any sort of chick worth scoring, especially the one with the horseshoe on it...and rhinestonesones. You'd have a better chance if you removed them, and buried them deep under ground and then washed your hands for three weeks in order to remove the green ring that has formed under each and every knuckle.
And NO, winking at me and telling me to have a wonderful night will not get you anywhere. Gimme my apples and shut the hell up.
To they guy at the automotive repair shop. I don't know what a serpentine belt is, and frankly I don't fucking care. Trying to explain it to me is just a waste of time and will most probably cause you more headaches in the end. If I were you I would just change my oil, replace the belt and tell me that if you didn't do it my car would spontaneously combust never to return to this earth again. I would probably believe you. So just lie, lie like you've never lied before, and then when I leave, you can make fun of me and how you totally screwed me out of $200 to put on a 75 cent piece of rubber that costs $15 at Napa. Jerk.
That's all.
Jenni
To the guy who rang up my groceries last night at Kowalski's. The four gold rings that you wear on each consecutive finger will not help get you laid. Infact, they are most probably preventing you from scoring any sort of chick worth scoring, especially the one with the horseshoe on it...and rhinestonesones. You'd have a better chance if you removed them, and buried them deep under ground and then washed your hands for three weeks in order to remove the green ring that has formed under each and every knuckle.
And NO, winking at me and telling me to have a wonderful night will not get you anywhere. Gimme my apples and shut the hell up.
To they guy at the automotive repair shop. I don't know what a serpentine belt is, and frankly I don't fucking care. Trying to explain it to me is just a waste of time and will most probably cause you more headaches in the end. If I were you I would just change my oil, replace the belt and tell me that if you didn't do it my car would spontaneously combust never to return to this earth again. I would probably believe you. So just lie, lie like you've never lied before, and then when I leave, you can make fun of me and how you totally screwed me out of $200 to put on a 75 cent piece of rubber that costs $15 at Napa. Jerk.
That's all.
Jenni
Sunday, January 22, 2006
My First (Witnessed) Blonde Moment of 2006. *And a Special Bonus Blonde Moment of 2005
I haven't written anything in a long time. Mainly because I am waiting for something interesting and blog worthy to happen to me, and nothing has. Well, maybe I've had things happen, but I'm just too lazy to write about any of them. Yeah, that's probably it.
Anyway, I don't know what it is about January. It seems that I have the largest brian farts during this month. It could be the cold weather, the fact that my brian is most probably frozen a good portion of the month...or it could be the lack of sunshine, like the way your plants get all droopy and shit when they haven't seen the sun in awhile. Much like my brain...all droopy and shit.
So, Saturday night Danika had game night and I was with the group playing Taboo, of which I have to say I'm pretty good. And when Angel said to me, "Wow, you're pretty good at this!" I proudly responded, "Yeah, I should be on the $1,000 Pyramid or something." To which Danika promptly corrected "That's $10,000 Pyramid, Jen." Right. $10,000 Pyramid.
Ah, the life of a blonde...
Anyway, this has inspired me to repost Extreme Blonde Moment, a chronicle of my St. Paul Winter Carnival Medalion Hunt Misadventure. So, if you haven't read it yet, I suggest that you do. Not only so you can laugh...hysterically, but also so you can understand the trials and tribulations of an everyday blonde. Enjoy!
Monday, January 16, 2006
Jenni, What Class Is Made Of.
I stole this from Sandra. It's the "Classic Dames Test." So, if you would like to find out which dame you're most like just go Here!
Myrna Loy
You scored 11% grit, 28% wit, 33% flair, and 40% class!
You are class itself, the calm, confident "perfect woman." Men turn and look at you admiringly as you walk down the street, and even your rivals have a grudging respect for you. You always know the right thing to say, do and, of course, wear. You can take charge of a situation when things get out of hand, and you're a great help to your partner even if they don't immediately see or know it. You are one classy dame. Your screen partners include William Powell and Cary Grant, you little simmerpot, you.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
I'm BACK and My Mayor Can Beat Up Your Mayor!
Despite rumors that I met my imminent fate with an unusually large icicle, I'M BACK!
Seriously though, If you've been wondering where I've been lately I was absent because of an untimely death in the family...my cable modem...which consequently made my wireless network haywire and led to a two-week-long computer catastrophe. But all is well with the world, and it's fixed. Which brings me to my next subject...how great it is to live in Minneapolis...
Not only are we the "Smartest", and "Techiest" city...but our own mayor R.T. Rybak was recently voted by Mens Fitness as the most fit mayor.
Minneapolis as a city, consequently ranked #13 out of 25 of the "Fittest" cities in the Nation, and interesting enough, our neighbor metropolis Chicago ranked #5 among the "Fattest"...oink oink...and Houston of course ranked "#1 in the less than flattering category.
In other news, I'm getting my new sofa today...isn't it KICK ASS?
That's it on the showroom floor. I'm ecstatic. To be perfectly honest with you, I was really trying to shy away from the whole "black leather" bit for fear I'd be categorized in some lame tasteless male bachelor group...you know the group that centers around puffy black leather furniture and black laquer...yeah, that group. But I was hooked the minute I set eyes on this sofa, I KNEW it was the one for me. It's distinguished button tufted back and arms...makes is look very vintage and old school which is definately my style. So, in preperation fo the arrivial, I've been painting and decor changing, now just to replace the chair I'm sitting in, some new curtains, and I'll be set...A new year, some new furniture...yay!
What are you doing that's "new" in the New Year?
Seriously though, If you've been wondering where I've been lately I was absent because of an untimely death in the family...my cable modem...which consequently made my wireless network haywire and led to a two-week-long computer catastrophe. But all is well with the world, and it's fixed. Which brings me to my next subject...how great it is to live in Minneapolis...
Not only are we the "Smartest", and "Techiest" city...but our own mayor R.T. Rybak was recently voted by Mens Fitness as the most fit mayor.
Minneapolis as a city, consequently ranked #13 out of 25 of the "Fittest" cities in the Nation, and interesting enough, our neighbor metropolis Chicago ranked #5 among the "Fattest"...oink oink...and Houston of course ranked "#1 in the less than flattering category.
In other news, I'm getting my new sofa today...isn't it KICK ASS?
That's it on the showroom floor. I'm ecstatic. To be perfectly honest with you, I was really trying to shy away from the whole "black leather" bit for fear I'd be categorized in some lame tasteless male bachelor group...you know the group that centers around puffy black leather furniture and black laquer...yeah, that group. But I was hooked the minute I set eyes on this sofa, I KNEW it was the one for me. It's distinguished button tufted back and arms...makes is look very vintage and old school which is definately my style. So, in preperation fo the arrivial, I've been painting and decor changing, now just to replace the chair I'm sitting in, some new curtains, and I'll be set...A new year, some new furniture...yay!
What are you doing that's "new" in the New Year?
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Haiku Tuesday! Holiday Edition
Friday, December 16, 2005
Could it be?
Check out the death trap that has formed along the roof line on my house, which just happens to be right outside my back door. Could this be the preamble to "Jenni's Brush With Death Part V?"
I guess you'll just have to stay tuned to find out...
Thursday, December 15, 2005
A shout out to my peeps...
Thank you Mother Nature for dumping 8-10 inches of snow on us over the last couple of days.
Thank you City of Minneapolis for not plowing my street until 11:30 last night making it almost impossible for the rollerskate to exit onto 34th Ave.
Thank you Volkswagen for making the 2000 Cabrio a force to be reckoned with.
Thank you lady in the grey Volvo turbo station wagon who almost caused a multi car pile up on 35w southbound. You're inability to multitask while talking on your cell phone, and operating a moving vehicle with complete disregard for the safety of others left me no choice but to reprimand you with my finger and horn. Bitch.
Thank you Baffin for making your boots. Although completely non-fashionable, they keep my feet dry, and toasty, while I trudge through the snow to visit my clients.
Thank you Metabolife Ultra, for making an ephedra free caplet which allows me to get my caffeine fix without the heroin-like withdrawals.
And Finally...Thank You guy at the gym who in last nights class thought you were the Step Aerobics God, and then fell off your step crashing loudly to the floor causing a HUGE scene and then got up and left the studio out of what must have been sheer embarrassment. That was sweet.
Thank you City of Minneapolis for not plowing my street until 11:30 last night making it almost impossible for the rollerskate to exit onto 34th Ave.
Thank you Volkswagen for making the 2000 Cabrio a force to be reckoned with.
Thank you lady in the grey Volvo turbo station wagon who almost caused a multi car pile up on 35w southbound. You're inability to multitask while talking on your cell phone, and operating a moving vehicle with complete disregard for the safety of others left me no choice but to reprimand you with my finger and horn. Bitch.
Thank you Baffin for making your boots. Although completely non-fashionable, they keep my feet dry, and toasty, while I trudge through the snow to visit my clients.
Thank you Metabolife Ultra, for making an ephedra free caplet which allows me to get my caffeine fix without the heroin-like withdrawals.
And Finally...Thank You guy at the gym who in last nights class thought you were the Step Aerobics God, and then fell off your step crashing loudly to the floor causing a HUGE scene and then got up and left the studio out of what must have been sheer embarrassment. That was sweet.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Things I've Learned...Holiday Edition.
This morning while I was in the locker room at the gym something dawned on me. As I gazed at the plethora of Lancome product that covered the counter space of my mirror buddy I thought to myself "Man, what we women do to make ourselves beautiful." Which was funny, since right after I thought that the woman looked at me and asked, "Do you ever look at everything you put on each and every morning and wonder if you really need all this stuff?" I laughed and agreed. She was right, and so was I. Here are some other things I learned this week...
1). Some things should be left acronymless. Like the "Planned Unit Development" committee of Oak Park Heights. (See above).
2) Instant: instantaneous: occurring with no delay; "relief was instantaneous"; "instant gratification"
"Valvoline Instant Oil Change" is by no means instant. But then again, "Valvoline Relatively Speedy Oil Change" just sounds weird.
3). Just because it was 1 degree yesterday, and it's 20 degrees today does not make it warmer, possibly more tolerable, but definitely not warmer. The word warm should be reserved for temperatures above 70 degrees.
4). The VW Cabrio can go from 0 to 60 in just under 15 seconds, which seems like 25 minutes when racing a 740i.
5). Just because one may own spandex does NOT mean they should wear it. Spandex is a privilege, not a right.
6). Sitting in the sauna for 5 minutes in a wool coat will most definitely help your extremities thaw...quickly.
1). Some things should be left acronymless. Like the "Planned Unit Development" committee of Oak Park Heights. (See above).
2) Instant: instantaneous: occurring with no delay; "relief was instantaneous"; "instant gratification"
"Valvoline Instant Oil Change" is by no means instant. But then again, "Valvoline Relatively Speedy Oil Change" just sounds weird.
3). Just because it was 1 degree yesterday, and it's 20 degrees today does not make it warmer, possibly more tolerable, but definitely not warmer. The word warm should be reserved for temperatures above 70 degrees.
4). The VW Cabrio can go from 0 to 60 in just under 15 seconds, which seems like 25 minutes when racing a 740i.
5). Just because one may own spandex does NOT mean they should wear it. Spandex is a privilege, not a right.
6). Sitting in the sauna for 5 minutes in a wool coat will most definitely help your extremities thaw...quickly.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Friday, December 02, 2005
The Great Liquid Liner Debocle
I don't know what got into me. It's not like it looks like it could be that hard, liquid eyeliner, that is. I decided to trade in my traditional Clinique crayon eyeliner for this newfangled, retro, liquid eyeliner, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it was it's appeal and promise of a look much like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, or the ease and grace at which the cosmetic lady applied it to my lid, but when I went to put it on this morning the results were more like Courtney Love twelve cocktails deep at the VMA's.
Whatever, I guess I'll just have to practice and hope that things turn out better next time. Wish me luck.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
