Monthly Archives: December 2013

Early Christmas Present

The other day, I received an e-mail from Influenster, informing me that I was selected as a recipient for their upcoming Jolly VoxBox. For those of you who have never heard of Influenster, they’re a
survey and review website for products that are currently on the market right now or still being tested by consumers before being released on the market. Everything from food to make-up to personal hygiene products are reviewed on the website, and they periodically send out VoxBoxes filled with awesome complimentary products for people to test out and review. When I found out I was selected for the Jolly VoxBox, I was so excited! I also think it’s important to note that I am the equivalent of a five year old when it comes to getting mail, and considering that most mail is usually crappy and mundane, it’s nice to get something neat in the mail every once in a while. And if you’re wondering, yes, I did sit by the window all day waiting for the mailman.

Included in the VoxBox was a box of Skinny Cow peanut butter filled chocolate bars, and as soon as that godforsaken thing came out of the box, the vultures started circling. It never fails, anytime my husband or kids discover that I have some type of chocolate in my possession, it turns into a free for all. I was looking forward to trying the bars, and they were totally delicious, and only 130 calories. Not that I’m counting calories. Don’t ask me how many of those bars I ate, or I might have to invoke my 5th amendment right.

I was particularly excited to find out that the box included make-up- a full size Rimmel London Showoff lip lacquer, which I absolutely love. The name of the beautiful shade is “Celestial,” and it is truly out of this world. I put it on in the morning the day after I received my box, and I didn’t have to reapply until the late afternoon. I ate (2 bars of Skinny Cow), drank (3 cups of coffee), and refereed the maniacs all day, so my mouth had a workout, but the lacquer stayed put, which I thought was awesome. I also received a 3 color NYC HD Color Trio Eyeshadow set in “Long Beach Sands.” I was so happy to find that they sent me a neutral, natural eyeshadow. I was really dreading receiving an electric blue eyeshadow, because I had no invitations to any 80’s themed parties. If there’s anything I really don’t like, it’s very dramatic make-up. I have never been one to use bright colors, because every time I think of dramatic eye make-up, I think of Tammy Faye Bakker, and the mere thought of that frightening woman shakes me to my core.

The stuff nightmares are made of.

The stuff nightmares are made of.

Also included in the box was a roll of leopard print Duck Brand duct tape which I intend to wrap presents with, because I’m edgy and also because I think I ran out of Scotch tape, so that little baby came just in time.

I was happy to be able to wear my new (free!) make-up to dinner last night with my husband. We went to Longhorn Steakhouse as an early birthday dinner for me, because we can’t go to Longhorn Steakhouse on
my actual birthday, because I have the worst birthday ever. I have to say, the food was delicious, the company was wonderful, and I had a great time. But let me just get this off of my chest.

I’m a people-watcher. It’s in my nature, I just can’t help it. Anytime I’m anywhere where there are many people, I compulsively watch what everyone is doing. It’s not something I do on purpose, or because I want to be a mean old Judgy McJudgerson, it’s just that I think I enjoy watching people do things in their natural habitat, when they think nobody’s watching.

I realize that last sentence totally made me look like a creep. No, I’m not standing outside your window right now.

All that people watching business brings me to this: people no longer have any manners. Seriously. For real. None.

When I go out to eat, I try to be proper. Napkin on the lap, no elbows on the table, no snorting/slurping/burping. It’s common courtesy, and common sense. Or so I thought.

Homeboy at the bar must’ve burped at least twice, and he leaned over once, and he may have let one rip. I don’t know. The jury’s still out on that one. But I wouldn’t have been surprised, because he was just being gross and eating like he was sitting at a trough and not a restaurant, so he may very well have cut the cheese.

Who does that? And who picks their teeth in plain sight? Get your hands out of your mouth, sicko. We are all trying to eat here while you’re trying to excavate a chunk of whatever the hell you just ate from your third molar. We don’t all want to bear witness to something akin to a fossil being unearthed.

I kind of felt like an innocent bystander, someone who was witnessing a trainwreck. I didn’t want to watch this guy pick his teeth, but my eyes couldn’t stop watching. I just wanted to turn away and enjoy my meal, but it was like a magnetic force was pulling my eyeballs to watch this man be gross in public. Why do these things happen? Why do bad things happen to good people? I wanted to offer him a toothpick, a piece of floss, anything. But all I could do was watch in disgust. I felt like I was doomed to watching him go on forever, pick pick picking his teeth.

But at least my lip lacquer lasted all through dinner.

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Back To Square One

I’m back!

I decided to try and¬†breathe new life into this blog, mainly because the writer’s itch was creeping up on me yet again. I’m no longer attempting to lose weight, which is the main reason I started this blog, to try and keep myself accountable, but I am definitely still losing brain cells and patience by the minute, thanks to the seemingly endless shenanigans of my three heathens¬†children. Speaking of which, last time I updated this blog, I only had two children. Now I have three. Which might be part of the reason why I am no longer attempting to lose weight. Every time I attempt to lose weight, I get pregnant. If the pursuit of thinness means getting knocked up again, then pass the Ho-Hos, because homey don’t play that.

On the topic of Ho-Ho-(Hos), we are just four days from Christmas. We took the kids to see Santa yesterday, and all of the Ho-Ho-Hos in the world were not enough to make Mallory want to sit on his lap. The ironic part was that I dressed her in a shirt that said “I Love Santa”. If the agonizing screams of torture flying from that child’s mouth were any indicator, she most certainly did not love Santa. However, the boys both willingly jumped on his lap, and Carl told Santa he wanted Spongebob and Woody for Christmas, whereas Leland sat there, doing his very best impression of Helen Keller, and said nothing.

With Christmas approaching, I have also prepared myself for the other event that occurs on December 25th: my birthday. I don’t think I have ever met anyone who dreads their birthday, but until you are competing for attention with Jesus Christ, then don’t even talk to me. Christmas Day has got to be the absolute worst day to be born on, ever. Even I refer to my own birthday as a secondary event. While I’m attempting to celebrate my birthday, everyone else is celebrating somebody else’s. I am effectively having a joint birthday party with Jesus Christ every single year. And every year, he’s the cool kid who opens up the gaming console or electric scooter, and then when it’s my turn to open presents, I get a yo-yo, and I only get one present, because everyone at the party apparently thinks I am a giant idiot and won’t catch on that they’re giving me one present for both occasions. And old JC’s over there, snickering in the corner, while I gather my birthday presents (wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper, to add insult to injury), while everyone sings him happy birthday, because all the guests forgot the party was a joint party.

Seriously, if I gave a person whose birthday was in April one present on their birthday, then told them that one present should cover them for their birthday and Christmas, that person would think I was the biggest, crustiest turd that ever roamed the earth.

Luckily, my children seem far more excited for Christmas than I am. Today, we picked up some wrapping paper at the store, and Carl began questioning me as to why I was purchasing this wrapping paper if Santa was the one bringing him gifts. Doesn’t Santa have wrapping paper at the North Pole? Why would he bring unwrapped gifts? Why do you have to wrap the gifts? Why is the sky blue? What is the meaning of life? What is love? Baby don’t hurt me, no more.

After I was done being interrogated, and done providing the most bogus answers ever, I was pleased that he seemed to accept my warped web of lies about Santa, wrapping paper, the North Pole, and the meaning of life. I basically just explained that Santa sometimes drops off unwrapped gifts and lets mommies wrap them so that it’s less work for his elves. As he walked away, I wondered, why do I feel this need to perpetuate this lie? This fake old fat guy isn’t giving my kids presents, I am! Why should he get all the credit? Santa is the equivalent of the guy in the group project who never shows up to anything, never submits his part, yet still somehow slides by, getting an A+ while the rest of the group gets a B-. Yet here I am, year after year, shopping frantically, wrapping and preparing and tweaking everything to perfection so old jolly St. Nick can be the hero. No wonder he’s so damn jolly.

I realize this entire post kind of makes me look like a grinch, but I’m truly not. I do enjoy the spirit of giving and joy that Christmas brings, I enjoy the cooking and baking and togetherness… But I will say this: if I get one more motherlovin’ birthday present in Christmas wrapping paper, shit’s about to get real.