Top Ten People I Don't Care About

There's nothing that makes less sense to me than "fauxlebrities". They are famous for no reason. They flood the entertainment headlines and are a useless waste of airtime. I think my life is more interesting than what the news reports. So, why can't I be famous?

Here are my top ten. In no particular order.

1. Kendra

2. Khloe

3. Heidi

4. Bristol

5. Samantha

6. Idols

7. Survivors

8. Houswives

9. Bad Girls

10. Bachelors/Bachelorettes


The Art of Hair Removal

It's no mistake that women make painstaking efforts to make ourselves look good. Countless hours in front of a mirror, cursing at a hair dryer prove it. We hate every second of it and yet we don't ever give it up. Why? Not because our men like the outcome, but because we like the outcome. We want to impress our friends, our neighbors, our mothers and our sisters so we burn our fingers and singe our hair to get that perfect curl. We want to feel super-sexy so we drag sharp metal objects along our netherregions to remove the hair. We don't want to look at caterpillars when we look in the mirror so we rip hair out of our faces.

Who's idea was it to start "shaping" our eyebrows anyway? I'm almost certain that it started as some form of midevil torture and someone realized that it would be a great way to "beautify" the girls in thier village. Probably some crazy woman. Because I can guarantee that you will never hear a man whisper to his friend "OMG, Stacy totally needs to do something about those eyebrows!" No, but us girls will. Don't lie. You do it too.

And so, today I went to get my eyebrows waxed. The lady that does them at the salon I go to is called an "Eyebrow Artist". Really, the title is fitting because her work could be featured in the MOMA. It's a 10-15 minute event when I get my eyebrows waxed.

Here's the drill:

1. She uses a cotton ball to smooth out my caterpillars eyebrows so she can see what shape they are naturally. I think to myself, "oh, this feels nice, it won't be so bad."

2. Using an extremely technically advanced tool a popsicle stick, she smears searing hot lava wax over what feels like my entire face.

3. She then gently but firmly presses a strip of fabric over the lava wax.

4. Using a swift motion, she rips off my entire eyelid and half of my forehead the fabric strip, sending searing pain from one ear, across my forehead to the other ear, paralyzing my forehead as effectively as Botox and sending tears to my eyes, thus causing my mascara to run revealing a bloody perfectly shaped eyebrow.

5. She repeats these steps on the upper and lower portion of each eyebrow and in between.

6. As if that's not enough torture She then tweezes all the little fuckers hairs that didn't make it onto the wax strip in order to create a clean, precise shape.

7. She then rubs baby lotion in a feeble attempt to alleviate some of the pain.

8. I go back to work/home/shopping/crying with blazing red, hot, swollen, itchy eyebrows that will draw stares for the next half hour.

9. I then see my friends and curse them under my breath for being so judgemental that I have to get my eyebrows waxed.

10. I proceed to whisper to Amanda about Stacy's caterpillars eyebrows.

Tune in next time for a detailed account of bikini line shaving.


Let the Games Begin

Last night was the opening ceremony for the Winter Olympics. I'm not sure if it's something that my son will be interested in or not. He was far too young to even know that the Summer Olympics were on two years ago. He's 2 1/2 now and loves to watch baseball, football, hockey, soccer and basketball. He knows what sports are and he likes to watch. So I'm sure that when the hockey games are on he will want to watch, but I wonder if he will be interested in other events.

When I was a kid I used to love watching figure skating. Now, not so much. I as I got older and crankier I just lost interest. I love the ski jump. I went to Lake Placid about 10 years ago and they still had the ski jump from the 1980 Olympics. Looking up at it was nauseating. I can't imagine actually being at the top. And then going down it. On purpose...

Be right back...

Ok, I'm back. I had to go vomit.

In case you couldn't tell, I have an irrational fear of heights. Maybe that's why I like watching the ski jump. Because I know I would never, ever (EVER) be able to do it.

One event I will never understand is curling. The only "curling" I have any experience with involves burning my fingers and watching my hair fall flat despite hours of effort and an absurd quantity of hair products. Lester Holt just tried to explain it to me. I still don't get it.

By the way, you noticed my coffee mugs? Those are my "Olympic rings". Why did I use coffee mugs? Because you can get into a LOT of trouble for using the rings without the "express written consent" of the Olympic committee. Just an FYI for my blogger friends.


Coffee vs. Alcohol

I think I'm getting old.

It wasn't that long ago that I could drink with the best of them, get wasted and still be able to function the next morning. The last time I drank enough to get even slightly tipsy, I was a mess the next day. I was so tired (which was surprising due to my severe degree of unconsciousness) that I could barely make it through Target.

And it wasn't that long ago that getting a little drunk was good for my sex life. Being a little tipsy gave me more energy and usually made me a little more ambitious. Now, if I have been drinking, I'm lucky to stay conscious long enough to avoid a bruise to the hubby's ego.

No, alcohol is out. But apparently coffee gives me just enough of an energy boost to make it through the evening. And does it further confirm that I'm getting old when I say that I actually prefer coffee over alcohol?

Don't answer that.


Top Ten Reasons Winter is Hazardous to My Marriage

Punk(sutawney) Phil saw his shadow yesterday. Who's bright idea was it to rely on a damn rat to decide our seasons? Seriously. That person should be shot. Or chewed apart by groundhogs. Poetic justice. I'm just sayin'.

I hate the winter. Aside from growing up in Florida and thinking that anything under 70 is chilly, it's just a depressing season altogether. Here's why.

1. It's cold. Just in case you weren't sure.

2. Somehow large bulky sweaters don't do very much in the way of flattering my figure. I'm pretty sure that the hubby prefers a tank top over 38 pounds of knitted wool.

3. The big bulky sweaters allow room for me to cheat on my diet. A lot. No really. A. Lot.

4. Constantly covering my legs with long pants does not do anything to help my already pasty white complexion. In fact, the glare coming off my legs the other day in the shower while I was shaving was equally blinding and depressing.

5. Speaking of shaving, the razor is usually dormant during the winter. Honestly, the Pope probably sees more action during the winter than my razor does. And I'm pretty sure that the fuzzy, winter leg feel is not something that turns the hubby on. Perhaps I should ask.

6. Dry skin. Oh, the pain, the itch, the flakes. It's terrible. When I wear black, it ends up looking like it snowed inside my shirt. Sexy.

7. I could probably provide power for a small village with the amount of static that is running through me. It's really not that sexy when you electrocute someone every time you touch them. Although, it could bring a whole new meaning to foreplay. Hey hunny, want to give a little S&M a try?

8. Speaking of static, while the hubby is pretty smart, I doubt he married me for my uncanny Albert Einstein impression.

9. Aside from the wonders that winter does for my figure, hair and complexion, the cold tends to drive everyone into the house. Cabin fever is in full swing and if the weather doesn't warm up, I'm going to be relying heavily on Tide and Hefty to keep my ass out of jail.

10. It's cold. Did I mention that? Ok, just making sure.


I Would Never!

Before I became a mother, I decided that there were certain things that I would never force my children to do.

-I would never force my children to play a sport they didn't like.

-I would never force my children to play an instrument they didn't like.

-I would never force my children to be involved in things I wish I had been a part of when I was a kid. For example, cheerleading, dance, chess club etc.

-I would never, ever force my child to wear shirts bearing the logo of bands that I love. Never.