Things that are pissing me off.

Our Christmas light people.
The bitches were supposed to show up this past Tuesday (it is now Friday) to hang our Christmas lights on our house. Did they show up? No. Then they were going to come on Wednesday. Did they show up? No. Have they called? No. Assholes.

My love seat is showing me no love.
We ordered a bunch of furniture recently from Plummers. The loveseat we ordered to compliment the sectional in our living room looks ridiculous. Wrong leather sheen, wrong color, wrong everything. Now we have to figure out a way to get it back to Plummers, and pay a restocking fee. It's not their fault, they sent us what we ordered. We are just apparently design-fools. Everyone that came to our house yesterday for Thanksgiving was like, ooh, uh, yeah, no, that doesn't look right. Fuck.

I am the fattest I've ever been in my life.
Yeah, I don't really want to talk about that.

Not being techy enough to revamp my blog.
The free blogger templates provided via Google bore the hell out of me. Yet whenever I try and switch to a random template I find on the Internet, it deletes half my shit and looks stupid. Paying someone professional seems a bit silly when I have all of about 6 readers.

The never ending list of things I want done to the house before I'll invite my friends over.
It never ends. We have poured a small fortune into buying and fixing up this place, and it. never. ends. I never knew a 6-year old house in a fabulous neighborhood could need so much love. And by love, I mean people with taste and the funds to do so. I love our new patio set and fire pit, I love the way we fixed the fugly fireplace, I love the new floors on the second and third floors, I love the art we've found, I love the colors we chose for the walls. But, we still have to replace all of the door handles/knobs on the second and third floors, we still have to rip out all of the tile and appliances in the kitchen (can we start a fundraiser for that, please?), we still have to entirely design and furnish the third floor bonus room that has sat empty since the day the prior owners moved out, we still have to have new lighting installed in the living room, we still have to do so much. This pisses me off so much because I am a turn-key kind of girl. I do not enjoy this shit.

Oh, but I love my friends and family and am thankful we have jobs and money and our lives don't suck. Or something like that, I think.

Confessions of a feminist gold digger

Confession: I want Juvederm. I think. I mean, I know I want something, I just don’t know what. I have this line/crease/wrinkle? to the left of my lips, and as I was getting my hair did on Saturday and staring at myself in the mirror for 2 hours, I decided it was ridiculous that something like that bothered me and I wasn’t doing anything about it. I’ve tried those silicone (silicon? I always get confused by the two words. What the hell is the difference?) line fillers that skincare companies make, and they don’t do shit. So, any advice? Will this shit hurt? How expensive is it? Will you hold my hand?



Confession: I’m thinking about trying to get knocked up because four months of maternity leave sounds amazing. What? Don’t judge. People get k’d up for worse reasons. Besides, I have the leading cause of infertility in women, so it’s not likely to happen, like, tomorrow. Or ever. And, I’m pretty sure I might have to have sex with my husband to at least try and make it happen, and that’s not likely to happen either. Heh. Furthermore, I don’t know if I’d have to go off of my batshitcrazy pills if I got k’d up. That could be a problem. Or lead to some entertaining blog posts about how I want to murder my significant other? Not sure. Could go either way.


(photo from AntiBaby.com)

Confession: I’m so fat right now. I’m back to my heaviest weight ever. Problem? I’m fucking lazy. The only think that works for me weight-loss wise is going low-carb, high protein, and I just find that lifestyle so fucking drab. It would behoove (that’s the word, yeah?) me to do so, since my leading-cause-of-infertility-in-women issue also makes chics like us very prone to diabetes, and chics like us are encouraged to watch the carb/sugar intake, but, as previously mentioned, I’m motherfucking lazy or something. I cannot do grilled chicken or fish and veggies. I mean, you might as well just kill me.

Confession: My gorgeous pilates instructor had her client appreciation party this past weekend. This was the first time I’d seen her clients, except for the ones that I run into from the session before mine. I kinda wanted to slit my wrists after I saw them. I was like, wtf do you need pilates for? You weigh 90 pounds (dripping wet). And your skin is perfect and your hair looks like you just came from the salon. I hate you, you mother effing skinny bitches.

Confession: I may have bought the Marc Jacobs bag I blogged about recently. It was overpriced, even with the 20% off promo code I had, but…


(photo from ShopBop.com)

Confession: One of the reasons I’m obsessed with keeping my hair, nails, makeup, shoes, handbags, etc. to the utmost of highest fashionista standards is because I have to somehow take people’s attention away from my Miss Piggy figure of late.



I think that's enough for today.

Puppy Love

I had to share this delightful blog post from the delicious Chenin Boutwell. The post and, of course, all of the amazical photos, are Chenin's.

For those who have followed this blog over the years, you know that every year, on Murray's birthday, I do a little post in his honor. This year, Murray is 16 and still kickin'. And I thought, in honor of his 16 years of life, I would post 16 photos of my sweet boy.



To my sweet Mr. Murray... it's hard to believe we have had you in our lives for the past 10 years. When we rescued you from that horrible shelter, we were kids...poor, totally unprepared to take on the responsibility of another living creature, and completely unaware of what it would take to love you. Thank you for being your sweet, silly, constantly-shedding and completely needy little self. And for teaching me how to care for someone (all those surgeries!), how to love unconditionally (remember that time you ate the living room carpet?), and how to age with style. You truly are my first baby (and how gracefully you have accepted my second!) and I love you so, so much. Happy birthday my sweet boy.

Happy 16th Murray! You are a very lucky (and handsome) pup.

Nancy Drew, please.

I want the rainbow striped painting in the background of this photo:



I've been coveting it for the past several episode of my favorite TV pleasure, Flipping Out.

Does anyone know where I can find it, or something similar? I've done some Google searching, but haven't had any luck.

Help.

May I redeem myself, please?

All of you mean-girl haters that mocked my Juicy boot selection will be pleased to know that Nordstrom sold out of the beauties before I was able to snag a pair. Sigh.

Nonetheless, I have picked up my booties and moved on. Meet my new pair of snow boots for the Winter Olympics!





I can't wait to get a week's worth of use out of them and then never, ever, ever have any reason to ever, ever, ever wear them again.

The picture of practicality.

I'm going to the Winter Olympics in February. Will be watching various events in Whistler in frigid temps. Should I get these, or are they just dumb?





Help. I don't do super cold weather, and haven't been in the market for snow boots for over a decade.

P.S. I have ginormous, cow-sized calves, if that makes any difference.