August 29, 2006
I have come across make up I haven't worn in a good five years. There are tiny lotions from resorts of long ago where I told myself I'd go home and order a bottle of the fantastic stuff, but never did. There are just things I held onto when I came out to DC thinking, "I might need this." (I really must remove that sentence from my vocabulary.) I think it is safe to toss these lovelies. Are they worth donating after all these years?
When I look at some of the makeup, I can't believe I ever wore it. I have lipsticks that are nothing short of goth. I was a young, little plaything for an older man back then. He liked to have me paint my face up like some kind of alabaster, gothic china doll. I think back on that phase of my life and have more questions than answers for so many things ... but that is a discussion for another day.
If anyone has any idea on what to do with an ancient, dust covered girl-fest, let me know. Otherwise, I will enjoy the satisfaction of a quickly filling trash can.
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August 28, 2006
1) ALWAYS treat a stain from the "wrong" side. NEVER treat the stain on the side of the clothing where you got it (generally the outside on the "right" side of the fabric). Scrubbing from the stain side just pushes the stain farther into the fibers ... this is how you end up with the stain almost gone, but not quite.
2) Use ice. No joke - plain, simple, right out of the freezer ice cubes. I have used this technique to remove blue frosting and blood from light colored clothing. I am confident that it will work on most any stain that is water soluble. You may be a little screwed on grease or oil with this technique - I haven't tried it - but there are other simple solutions for those as well. In order to treat stains with ice, use the following steps:
-- run two ice cubes from your freezer under water, just to get them wet & better prepped to melt
-- place one ice cube flat on top of the stain (on the "right" side) using the largest flat surface the piece of ice has
-- gather up the fabric surrounding the stain and trap the previously placed ice cube in a little pocket so that the "wrong" side of the stain is now exposed
-- using circular motions, "scrub" out the stain with a corner or edge of the second ice cube. The first ice cube will provide a hard flat surface for you to scrub against. The ice will melt as you scrub so use a new corner/edge when one goes dull. Just keep going until the stain is gone.
A word of caution though - good lighting is important for this stain removal technique because stains often get harder to see as they lighten and the fabric darkens from being wet.
Over the years, using a variety of techniques, I've managed to get out almost every stain I've come across - including auto grease and gum. But once you put them in the dryer, you're almost assuredly screwed.
This concludes today's lesson in stain removal. Happy laundering!
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July 15, 2006
for all of you who don't read me, let me back up a step. i am a copaholic. there is no cure. it is a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad problem to have. you might ask how one finds themselves with such a pestiferous affliction, and i might tell you. but you'll have to ask nice, or use a little force, or if all else fails a round of good cop/bad cop will definitely get me singing like a canary.
what were we talking about? oh yeah, men in blue. it wasn't always like this. when i was younger, and up to no good, i really didn't enjoy the company of peace officers. if one were to pull me over then, my whole body would tremble in panic. more than just anxiety, there was a paranoia that came from knowing i was up to no good. that's right, i deserved more than a ticket and i knew it, so getting pulled over was never a pleasant experience.
not so anymore, now i'm impassioned by the lights and sirens--even when they aren't coming for me. the throbbing has moved south (i know, gross, but i speak the truth).
here's the short list of police turn-ons, you are welcome to add to the list in the comments:
1. they talk in code--women LOVE to talk, men don't. but cops, they're all about talking: here i am, here's where i'm going, here's what's happening, and here's what i'm going to need you to do. always communicating, rowr. 10 this and 10 that, oh yeah!
2. TWO sets of handcuffs! hey, if that doesn't do anything for you, check your pulse.
3. uniform. dark and buttoned down. yeah, even the ups man scores points in this category, but no uniform screams out to estrogen like a deep blue crisp collar and the bling of the badge.
4. night stick--being approached by a muscley lawdog with a giant phallus tucked in his belt, nuff said.
5. gun--appropriate at the jail or mcdonalds, they're always armed.
6. they put the refuse of society away-- ask any wife and the number one thing she'll tell you her husband does is take out the trash. cleanliness IS godliness and nothing cleans up a town like caging a bad guy. hawt.
oooof. i better get on with life. i've got a rideout with the 5-oh this evening, a qualifying chapter in my town's citizens' police academy. what were they thinking when they offered me membership? they did ask in the application process if i prefered to be called a nickname. it was tough, but i neglected to let them know that my good friends call me "copsucker".
ya'll be safe and be good now, or i'll come and get ya and make you comply.
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June 24, 2006
Wonder if there is a calculator that says how much an unemployed recent graduate should be making for all the "work" done at home all day ...
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June 07, 2006
I'm so sick of getting money and gifts cards as presents.
Between graduation and my birthday I've gotten far fewer gifts than monetary donations. Don't get me wrong, I'm not turning down anyone's money ... but from some people, I just expect more.
Dad? Amex Gift Cheques. I thought better of him than that ...
Ex's parents? A personal check. Makes sense ... we don't interact much anymore.
Lil Bro? Amazon Gift Code. Seriously? The store that markets itself as having everything? Really?
Cousin I've never met? B&N Gift card. Thanks for thinking of me ... books are always nifty.
So I'm frustrated on two levels:
1. The people that should know me well enough to at least pick a particular store to get a gift card from are the people that go just one step past sending me cash. How much forethought and planning did that require? Just exactly how impersonal were you trying to be?
2. I hate Amazon. They may have a website with everything under the sun but I can't ever find what I want actually IN STOCK! Plus, I have issues with not being able to touch certain things. For example, if I go buy myself a stand mixer like I've been wanting, I want to know what the finish on it feels like. It matters. I want to know before hand how hard getting caked on flour is going to be. AND, if I go out and find in a brick and mortar store what I want, I have to go home and pay shipping on it instead of being able to buy it right there and taking it home.
Grrr ...
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March 29, 2006
Hooter's Air is turning in its wings
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March 14, 2006
St Patrick's Day is a real holiday!
A reason to love bein' Irish that's right up there with all the "kiss me, I'm Irish" clothes I can legitimately wear
Just four more days to wait!
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March 06, 2006
I love this quote but I think it needs a little tweaking ... because just looking back at our own childhood and eduction we can see, we will not understand what we are taught ...
We will understand only what we are willing to learn
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January 12, 2006
May those that love us, love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles
So we will know them by their limping.
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December 30, 2005
I managed a keen escape this morning and was able to flee the confines of not only my mother's house, but the town my parents live in all together. After careful, elaborate, and repetitous planning, I was able to make my get away on a train. Not the fastest of exits, but it got the job done.
For the next undisclosed period of time, I shall be in San Diego instead. Blogging may be even lighter - I have many things to see and people to do, you know - but I can't say for sure. In fact, I'd tell you more, but then I'd have to kill you... at least most of you... The hot ones I might keep around for a few extra days...
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December 10, 2005
Between finals week and my final week as an intern, I don't have a whole lot of time to put into preparing for this event. However, I have a reputation with the attendees of this particular event. They are under the impression that I am some fantastic and unique chef of sorts...
...No Pressure...
So, I turn to you, dear 'sphere-o-philes...
I know that someone out there has an easy and elegant cookie recipe. Is anyone kind enough to pass theirs on?
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December 01, 2005
#1 - the train was damn near empty. Hallelujah!
#2 - two overly flamboyant, broke-down, stank-ass, ghetto queens (and yes, I do mean queen in the way you think I mean queen) thought they owned the joint.
Ordinarily two queens on an empty train would have made for a pretty entertaining situation but these two just jacked that whole idea all to hell.
Most queens have some kind of flashy outfit that is mildly amusing... These guys were dressed in dirty, baggy clothes (mostly black) that looked like they had been worn for two weeks straight. They were complete with nappy, badly dyed hair that had no style. Accentuated by the stupid 'i-stole-a-pair-of-my-momma's-stockings-and-put-them-on-my-head' type hats. (come on, are they 'hats'? really? are they?)
Most queens will entertain you (in the Montel kind of way) with their flamboyant speech and dramatic conversations... These guys were just loud and obnoxious about a whole lot of nothing interesting... across the train from each other...
Most queens have some attention getting 'talent' that is mildly amusing... These guys were not blessed with such gifts... or grace... or talent. Period. They had a CD player that they turned up loud enough to hear without wearing the headphones... to which the one not near it felt the need to sing along with...very poorly. He missed the beat, forgot the words, and just plain sucked.
Scampered about the train and echoing their antics through the whole car, they were perhaps some of the most annoying people I have ever come into contact with. And I've met a fair number of Demorats, so that's saying a lot. So here's what I think should happen as a result of the pain I suffered at their expense...
The real queens of DC should get together and beat these two crap queens within an inch of their lives with their old stilettos. They are giving queens everywhere a bad name ... and depriving the entire metro area of the comedic blogfodder that a queenie encounter should deliver...
(I wonder how many friends my gay republican friend will bring to the fight)
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November 03, 2005
There are two things I hate in a way I couldn't possibly hate anything else. They are restrictive and binding, all around evil contraptions. But they are cute and foxy nonetheless. So naturally I love to shop for them. It is an odd love/hate relationship. It just depends on the day which side of the struggle I might land on.
So what is it that I hate so much?
1) Shoes
I am in love with them... the foxier the better. The higher the heel the better. But my feet are not prone to fitting in the foxiest of styles and heels have the ability to make my tall self a little too precarious to actually walk. However, this does not usually stop me from wearing them. If wearing them does not result in some ... ahem ... attention, they are the first things flug off as soon as I walk in the door. And one morning, after a long night of partying, I took them off as soon as I got off the train. Evil little fuckers that they were...
2) Panties
Again, I love them... nothing makes my night like just the right pair. And we're not talking full coverage fabric here either. How the hell are those things comfortable? I might sleep in em from time to time but that's the only reason I even own them. I'm in love with the cute little pieces of material that you never want your boyfriend's mom to find and your own mom makes faces just thinking about. The cuter the pattern, the better. But again, one of the first things I can't wait to rip off when I walk in the door. They get on like they have a mind of their own sometimes and I just can't deal with rebellious panties. Sit where I put ya or you're comin off!
But shoes and panties... now that's a whole different story...
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October 17, 2005
...too often that means TV and movies that leave me in tears.
They are my favorite shows and my favorite characters, but they are an emotional rollercoaster I really don't need to be putting myself on day in and day out.
For years ER has managed to poke at the little pieces of emotional shrapnel embedded in my heart, sometimes twisting it enough to leave me with vision too blurred to see the rest of the episode and a pile of tissues I'm later too disgusted to admit are actually mine.
Sisters could get me once in a while when it was on the air... I think I've even fallen victim to the soaps a time or two...
Recently Grey's Anatomy has also taken up that role. So far it has just been a tear or two in the closing scenes, but I fear what could happen if the writers tap any farther into my bruised psyche.
This is one of those few times where damn, it sucks to be a girl...
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September 22, 2005
What is stopping me? My giant clod hoppers and my stingy wallet...
Finding a pair that fit is going to be hard enough. Then there's finding a decent pair that don't cost more than the legs they go on...
Go ahead and try me, you glorious, elusive boots...I'm prepared to wait this out with every ounce of my well honed pouting skill.
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August 29, 2005
"It didn't have antlers going in...
but it sure had antlers coming out!"
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August 22, 2005
Reading a magazine column, I found myself asking and wondering ... why?
Personally speaking, I would never dream of expecting chivalry from a man the way women used to be able to count on. If he wants to open doors, help me with my coat, or walk on the street side, I'm not going to stop him. Unless of course he's a dumbass about it. Which leads me to my next question...
Has chivlary died because men just don't believe in treating women with an extra touch of special or is it because we, as women, have stomped on their efforts so many times that they have given up trying?
I think the answer lies somewhere between them both, placing the blame squarely on the shoulders of society as a whole. For example's sake, let's take a look at my life...
The men in my life are usually at fault simply because the majority of them are too caught up in something else (whatever that issue may be) to even make the effort. Gee, thanks. No, it's ok...don't get up. I feel just super special that you treat me just like you would your buddy that made you late for kick-off. At least you brought the car to a complete stop when it came time for ME to get out. Those that do make the effort usually don't for very long. And that is where the blame shifts to me...
I am at fault in my life because I am a firm believer in the idea that if you are going to do something, do it right. Like it or not, this applies to acts of kindness as well. I appreciate the effort put out by a man that wants open doors for me but if he is constantly opening the door into my foot, smacking me in the head with his elbow as he tries to reach over my head, or leaving me standing at a second door looking like a fool ... I'll do it myself, thank you very much. No, you don't get an A for effort. You get a D for poor attention to detail and the inability to learn from previous mistakes. I mean, I wouldn't dream of you making any unusual effort on my account. Maybe that just makes me a bit too bitchy for chivalry.
*shrug*
Where ever the blame lies, it is a sad state of affairs when being nice is something so unusual that it garners such attention and carries the expectation of praise in return.
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August 10, 2005
This guy looks just a little depressed and hopeless
This one is desperate but hasn't quite given up hope yet
The poor bear is in the throws of frustrated desperation
The ostrich is just pissed that people won't leave him be...the constant interruptions make it very difficult to ignore a situation, you know...
I think this one is just feeling a little inadequate
But take heed, they are plotting their escape...And this guy is their plan's mastermind
I don't know about you, but with a leader that evil looking... I'm worried. And if they are successful? Boy are they going to be pissed when they find out that they've got many miles to go before finding anything of interest.
I say they follow the tiger's example...
'haven't you been paying attention guys? It's worse out there than it is in here. Just fuck it ... take a nap. We can always eat the keepers later if we get bored.'
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August 04, 2005
Now that being said... I will never understand why men shirk their responsibility to and abandon their opportunity to accompany their lady in shopping for the most essential of clothing... the perfect panty. Yes, I know...just days ago I expressed my displeasure with impeding the natural flow of the evening breeze... but still - the perfect panty makes for the perfect ensemble and makes a woman feel just how she should for any occasion.
So I have to say it Gentlemen, quit being such pussies when it comes to cradling the one(s) you want. Go pick out something cute she will wear under her work clothes that only you will know about (and can look forward to). Go pick out something she will only wear for the 30 seconds it takes for you to strip to the buff after seeing her in it. Go pick out something sexy for her to wear the next time you take her to dinner. You're not always going to get a say and sometimes she's going to tell you to get your head out of your ass... more than likely you'll catch her at a bad moment when she asks you if you can keep it in your pants for more than 5 minutes.... but when she asks, offer your assistance. Just the shopping alone can create a tingle between the right people...
Just trust me here boys, when your woman feels good in her panties, you're more likely to get them off... so do your part to let her know you like what she's wearing.
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July 15, 2005
Anyway...
At 38,000 feet, I was glad I finally listened to that little voice in my head and packed a small pad of paper and a pen. It's old fashioned, I know...but the urge to blog strikes at its will, not our own...and I was ready this time.
In a plane full of unusually loud and chatty passengers (and a set of screaming triplets), I was surprisingly un-annoyed. Instead I was awed...that I went against my better economic sense and my rationalization that it wasn't that important and bought batteries for my CD player (yes, I know, I'm behind the times...you don't see a pattern here?) Was it by chance that I easily and un-begrudgingly paid $5 for 4 batteries that have allowed me to slip into my own cocoon of peace? Or was there something more at work? Did my subconscious predict a late flight would yield more annoyances than my usual flights?
I was amazed and thankful for batteries last night... in an oddly wholesome kind of way...
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