National Ice Cream Day 2015

In case you don't have any social media accounts, yesterday was National Ice Cream Day.  I don't even know if that was a thing prior to.... now - but alas, it was, and I celebrated.... more than once.

I hung out with my BFF and #bffbaby in the afternoon, and she made us a batch of brownies to accompany our ice cream.  That was at approximately 5 pm.

I thought I had the whole National Ice Cream Day in the bag - but alas, there was more!

My husband got off of work with 2 hours to spare before our best local ice cream place closed.  Or - he was supposed to.

With about 15 minutes to spare till closing time, my husband swept me into the car where we were pretty much last in line at the ice cream shop.

I made my order, and Mr. RH ordered the most ridiculous order - a banana split.  Huge, massive hot mess of an order in 90% humidity.  Whatever.

So we wait for a few minutes, closing time passes, and the girl at the window is shouting out "sugar cone, birthday cake."

And again,  "sugar cone, birthday cake."

I'm thinking to myself, "hello, who ordered that damn cone?!"

Oh, right, that would be me.

 Not the same cone.  Because... you'll see.

I take my shame face up to the window and get my cone.  About 2 seconds later, licking my melting prize,  the scoop, perfectly perched on top of the cone, falls off the cone.  Amateur hour.

Directly into my purse and onto my phone, no less.

So, as a rational adult... I reach down into my purse and grab the dang scoop and put it back on top of my cone.  And then I proceed to turn my back to the people eating nearby and discreetly try to lick my phone while attempting to forget every single 20/20 episode where they tell you your phone is the dirtiest thing you own and will likely kill you someday.

Embarrassment aside, we finally grab Mr. RH's banana split and high tail it to the car.  He holds it like the golden ticket and I pretend I don't know the goon with the giant banana split.

Walk into the house, sit on the couch, and suddenly Mr. RH's banana split is leaking all over his lap and the pillow from the couch.

National Ice Cream Day: 2.  RH Family: -0.

Ice cream, if I didn't love you so much, we would be finished.  Alas.... nope.

Until we meet again, old foe.

No-Good Day

Let me say:  I basically had this coming because I had highly anticipated having a Snow Day today. 

I woke up to 6 inches of snow and a boss who was insistent we open the store on time.  Ok.

I left an hour before I needed to be at work (a normal 10 minute drive).  In our little neighborhood, the roads were... rough.  There were some plow drifts that were halfway up my door.  Little scary.

I got almost all the way to work where I was too afraid to turn off the highway and into the parking lot - the turn lane wasn't plowed and had way too much snow for my little car.

So I went to the next major intersection to turn left.  The drifts were still extremely bad, but there were at least 2 cars and a truck ahead of me, so I felt semi-ok.

First - we waited about 3 turns of the light and the turn arrow never turned green.  Apparently there was SO much snow it wasn't registering that there was a line of cars waiting.  Uh oh.

A truck behind me pulled up alongside the cars in front of me - and magically it turned, and everybody went.  As I got to the front of the line, the light changed.  So I stopped my car... and I could tell that as I slowed down, the car sun down deeper.  Nooooooo.

The light went green after 3 agonizing minutes..... aaaand nothing.  I tried to really gently pull out without digging in deeper - no.

Light goes back to red. I get my car moving backwards quite a bit.  You know, on the highway at 8 am while people are driving like maniacs to get to work.

The light changed 7 total times, and I never got moving.  I've lived in a snowy place every single year of my life - but I had NO CLUE what to do.  Men in big trucks drove right around me to turn where I was trying to go.

And so I started to get scared.  Was I supposed to get out of the car?  Call a tow truck?  So I called my dad.  Started to melt down because he told me to hang up and he would come in 5 minutes if I didn't get out.

And then an ANGEL IN A SQUAD car saw me from across the intersection, put his lights on, and pushed on my trunk when the light turned green - and I MOVED. 

Seriously, I can't explain how long 10-14 minutes feels when you're stuck in the middle of a highway and there is no visible help around. 

I wish I had paid more attention to the cop's name, but he was in a hurry to get me moving on the next green before god-forbid anyone come flying up on me and slam into me.  No bueno.

I was so excited to get to work I could have kissed the ground.  Of course, my adrenaline was fully pumping at that point so I was shaking for at least 20 minutes before I got myself calmed down.

After that, I got to work and cleaned my store from top to bottom multiple times.  After 4 hours of  helping every customer who walked in the door, I had 3% of my sales in for the day (as opposed to the 35-65% I have on most days). 

Yay.  Starting the new fiscal year with a bang.

I have MORE than earned my giant, fuzzy pink robe, leopard slippers, wine, Bravo, half-finished craft project, and WINE tonight.  Lather, rinse, double-the-wine repeat.

Please tell me your day was better than mine.  I actually cannot handle the truth.

A No-Good Day

So, apparently when I posted about having a rough August (already!) this morning... I was taunting the universe.  And I did NOT mean to!

So today, it's almost noon and I'm alone at work (as I usually am at that time of day).  I have maybe 10 people in my store, 2 kids, the rest women from teenagers to at least 3 elderly women.

I'm actually quite busy, which in the end I am immensely thankful for.

I look up as two people enter the store, although I am deep in mid-conversation with an elderly woman.  She doesn't notice, but I stop dead in my tracks and time slows down to a point that doesn't even seem real.

The two people enter my store, wearing the following:

All-black full-body sleeves, with a white mask over the top.

My body was white-hot and cold-as-ice at the same time.  I swear I could feel the ends of my hair.

(I flashed back to a class I took in college - about how important it is to gather details in the moment and cement them into your mind ASAP - because the second the situation ends, everyone starts planting misinformation by accident.)

I am ignoring my customer by now, and loudly tell them that they need to take the masks off.  They simultaneously slide them up onto their heads... but of course, they've got black fabric covering their faces.  The slick moves definitely freak me out.

"I'm sorry, you can't wear those in here....,"  I find myself saying.  How I got the courage to speak up, I have no idea.  I honestly don't know where the instinct comes from, but there are all these innocent people just standing there and I can't think of what else to do.

The two figures plant themselves in place - like square their shoulders and set their hips, like they aren't going to move for a while.  I literally can't even breathe, and I feel a flush break out on my chest.

I can tell that the person closest to me is male - just from his shoulders and body shape.  He's just a tiny bit shorter than me, and I can't imagine he has a weapon stashed anywhere.  Stupid me -  I don't think to look at either of their shoes.  And I really don't look much at the person further away.

And just like that, they turn and walk out. 

I sprint to the store phone and call (STUPID STUPID STUPID move) mall security.  They used to be amazing, run by a man who could be my father... and today? I'm not sure they even made it into the mall to search for these losers.

And like an idiot, I don't call 911.  Because what would I say - two kids in bodysuits made me scared and made EVERYONE in the store have a panic attack?  The next customer that I helped was shaking so bad I made her sit down.

So.

Next time you think it's a good idea to post about how rough August has been - it could have been MUCH worse.  And if I find out tomorrow that the morons went on to rob a bank... well, it'll make me the worst person on the planet for not calling 911.

So, how was YOUR Friday?!

WTF Wednesday: Birds, Birds Everywhere

So, if you've been reading for more than a month, you may remember that my house had a close encounter with a hawk.... leading to crazy huge (and illegal) hawk feathers hanging all over my backyard for over a week.

Ever since that day, I've been seeing the hawk flying around our house at least once per week.

So, last week, I was slicing a watermelon and decided to put the rind in our compost bin.  I rounded the corner of the garage and.....

 

BAM!

Do you SEE THAT?!  That, my friends, is a GIANT hawk (ok, probably normal sized?) eating a little birdy snack!

He didn't move when I got kinda close (not on purpose, I didn't see him!), nor when I screamed and turned around and ran inside and slammed and locked all the doors.  You can never be too safe.
 

 

The bird ate his snack, and I tried to take these pics from a tiny bathroom window.  I could have gotten a better shot, but I was too freaked out.

To add insult to injury, there's a baby robin making itself at home on my front porch.  He sits on a planter (that I'm about to throw in the trash so he will leave) and shits on the porch when I bang on the window to try and convince him to leave.  He can't fly, so I guess he just poops instead?

But seriously, why am I in bird hell?

I hate birds so much.

Not to mention, the hawk isn't in my side yard anymore, but there are feathers ALL over the lawn that my dad refuses to pick up.  He says they'll "go away eventually".  Considering there are still hawk feathers on my lawn from over a month ago... I'm not holding my breath.

Stupid. effing. birds.

Pinterest Lies

I'm not going to lie - one of the best things about being engaged is Pinterest.  It's also, singlehandedly, the worst thing about being engaged.

The inspiration is SO fantastic... and the pressure is enormous.  How will you survive without hand-crafted-mason-jar seating charts?

Answer: You won't.  Your wedding will be horrible and EVERYONE WILL KNOW thanks to twitter.  Gosh, no pressure, eh?

However, I think I've found one of the biggest lies out there.

The Baby's Breath Centerpiece.

You've seen the pictures.

And then the caption.  "BABY'S BREATH.  Such a big impact and SO inexpensive!!"

Well folks, I'm here to tell you that Pinterest?

LIES.

Those centerpieces, according to my florist, would cost her over $200 EACH in raw materials.

As in, the December wedding she did actually lost her a little money because she felt horrible charging $200 each for the six centerpieces she did for the family's tables.

$200.  As in, I know some people who have wedding rings that cost around $200.  And, obviously these centerpieces are best when you have, you know, several dozen of them.

Why $200?  Simple.  While's baby's breath is relatively inexpensive - because it's used as a "filler" to a more expensive flower, or used to frame other elements of a bouquet, when used en masse, it's pricey just like any other flower.  To create the beautiful, snowball effect of these flowers, you would need a HUGE box full of baby's breath. 

So, anytime I see something on Pinterest labeled as "inexpensive"... I usually run the other direction.

And while I'm raging against "the man"  (the man = Pinterest), can I just say - we could ALL do a little better pinning things with semi-original captions.   I loathe when I see a pin that says "Made this cake for little man's birthday - such a hit...." posted to 34 of my friends boards.

I mean, hello, most of you don't even have a "little man" and it just seems so ridiculous to me.

Of course, I'm planning a wedding and I may be a wee bit sensitive.

Sorry about that.

Remember - PINTEREST LIES.

You're welcome.

Don't say I never taught you anything.

Morning Terror

So, I just had one of those nights of sleep.  The nights of sleep that dreams are made of.  The bed was the right temperature, I slept like a rock, wonderful.

Woke up, was walking by a window, and what I saw had my non-existent breakfast threatening reappearance and actually made me scream out loud.

I may be slightly over-dramatic, but remember that I have a deathly fear of birds.

I yelled for my daddy (screamed/cried, but who's keeping track?), and he escorted me outside where there are feathers and carnage everywhere.  

 The windows of our little sun porch appear to have some blood spatter and maybe a little spit? puke? poop? on them.

I had grand plans of working outside in the flowers today but I am way too terrified to hang out there today.  I know he's either dead or injured badly... but no.  I'm so scared, whatever killed it - I want nothing to do with it.  

So, needless to say I'll probably never sleep again.

I hate birds and I swear they terrorize me.

What the hell happened on my roof last night?

Or do I even want to know?

In Case You Thought My Life Was Normal....

Yesterday was like any other Monday... I worked the late shift.  My boss texted me around 10 am and asked if I would pick up the deposit slips at the bank.  No sweat!

I was running early, so I decided to grab the slips and make the most of my extra time to finish up some work stuff.

Sprinted into the bank, grabbed the slips, and was exiting the bank to the car when I heard it.  A weird.... "shhhhhhhhh shhhhh" noise.  "Shh" is probably not the right spelling of this sound, but I'm trying to be quick here.

It was the sound of liquid hitting asphalt in the parking lot.  So, let me paint the scene for you.

I am leaving the bank via the bottom left of the picture, heading to my car as indicated on the red line.

There is a man (green dot) standing next to his Jeep in the spot next to mine.  Facing away from me.

It is from him that this liquid is coming from.  A steady stream of YELLOW LIQUID COMING FROM HIS PANTS.

At high noon, directly in front of the main window of the bank, a man was PEEING IN THE PARKING LOT.

He was also wearing a sweater in 86 degree temps, but I found that much less startling.

I panicked.  My first thought was to call the police... but literally, what was I going to say?!

"Hello, 911 Emergency?  Hi, this is Sarah.  I'm standing at the bank and this guy here is PEEING.  Just out in the open, WITH HIS PENIS.  I thought you might want to know.  Ok thanks!"

So, I got myself under control.  I wanted him to STOP and STOP NOW so I made some noise, dropped my keys, picked them up.

Nope, STILL PEEING.

So, I did what any super girl would do... ran and jumped into my car so fast I hurt my arm.  Put that car into reverse so fast I got whip lash and shut my eyes until I was halfway to the parking lot exit.

The question is... the ladies at the bank think I am awesome (in my mind).  Do I tell them what happened in their parking lot yesterday... or just let that stone go unturned?

Cause honestly, this is the stuff that awesome stories are made of, right?

A Great Button Debate

Sometimes in life, a man wakes up and decides that today is the day he wants to impress his women.  Through his extensive collection of shirts he wades, deep into the recesses of his closed - past the polos and t-shirts - to select a shirt with buttons down the front.

Let's go ahead and pretend I didn't just notice this shirt has snaps instead of buttons.  I have SO few photos of Mr. RH, and this makes my heart sad.  Let's not dwell.

In selecting the shirt with buttons, a man has secured his place as more attractive than a man in a t-shirt simply by choice of shirt.  It's an impressive feat.

However, there is one thing left to be settled.  Is the shirt, with buttons down the front, a "button-up" shirt or a "button-down" shirt.

As pointed out by Sarah, button-down technically refers to the collar of a dress shirt, which is actually buttoned down to the shirt to ensure the tie stays in place.

Technicalities aside, this was a hot-button debate.

On team button-up:  @MisterRH,  @teatimewithtess, @theratpack07, @pnutsandpearls, @brwneyedlinds, @perfectwhitebow, @_amandadee, @samkbt, @smithja2003, @sara_may

On team button-down:  @ClassyFabSarah, @HRobud, @whaleflipflops, @mshep2188, @belleinpink, @iwbadg, @littlechick, @cheeryhomemaker, @thenortherner, @kolkatamomRN, @Gracie_Beth, @pinksass, @SadieCass, @natylite78, @TheSouthernWife, @emshrock, @jessmodestlyrox, @KappaCarrie

@tthompson14 further brought up the point that they are actually two different kinds of shirts.  But at this point, my head had already exploded (because I was right and feeling big-headed) and couldn't deal.  This was seconded with info by @_ssh.

Have we missed any points, friends? Or am I just right, along with at least 17 of the coolest people on the internet.

WHAT SAY YOU?

Just a Dolla to the Internet Movie Database, IMdB.

Yesterday was just like any normal day.... I had a day off, so I revolved my life around Mr. RH's schedule for the day.  Considering my schedule is all over the place, I figured it was the least I could do.

Around 1:30, he was supposed to be in class, but, SURPRISE, out early, blah blah blah. So instead of staying home like a good girl and taking pictures of All The New Clothes for the loyal subjects here at Classy & Fabulous, I jumped in my car like whoa.

So, 45 minutes later when my phone rang (unknown number), I was all, "oh, I'm far too important to answer my phone, I leave that to my virtual assistant (voicemail)."  And didn't check the messages cause I'm badass like that. 

Fast forward 3.5 hours and Mr. RH and I find ourselves at the Meijer checkout with ice cream and a chicken.  I swipe my credit card and it's declined.  I inform Mr. RH that since I work retail and I know these things that I probably swiped it wrong.  Nope, declined again.

And like the crack detective that I am, I stage whisper/yell "THE VOICEMAIL.  Oh god, someone stole my credit card wtf am I going to do shit shit mother of pearl."

And Mr. RH is all normal-like and calm and says, here, let's pay cash and go listen to the voicemail.

The voice of reason, that one is.

We're barley in the parking lot before a man in broken English informs me that there have been some recent suspicious charges and they want to talk to me.

I put off calling for an hour, ate some chicken and pulled up my account on the internet.

The sweet lady on the phone is all....

"Vera Bradley Outlet Sale, $200."

"Forever21.com, $151"

"Umm... no, those are all mine."

The shame burns on my face, but I will not be deterred.

"The only thing I don't know is a $1 pending transaction to IMdB.  I'm trying to figure out what those initials might stand for but.... yeah, I don't think that's mine."

In my mind I am trying to figure out if I would spend $1 to the internet movie database... but that seems far-fetched, so I don't mention it.

Long story short, Chase Freedom fraud protection is amazing.  The fact that I make, ahem, dozens of online transactions a month and that a $1 "tester" transactions set off their radar... damn.  I'm seriously impressed, plus the people on the phone were SO so so nice.

However, I have one teeeny little problem.  And by teeny I mean at least $200.  I got a couple dresses I looved online in 3 different sizes.... aaand now I can't really return them.  Because my account is closed.  And I was going to return them on Friday because I'm working at Castleton mall for the day, which, for you non-Hoosiers, has All The Stores.

So.  I'm now stuck with multiples of the same dress cause of my own online shopping madness.  I kind of deserved this, right?

Although, in my defense, who makes sizing so damn inconsistent that I could wear anything between a size 2 and a size 10?  Honestly, that just makes no sense.  Isn't it all based on inches (and vanity, duh)?

Not to mention... if you want me to shop in store, give me a damn store!!  Podunk, Indiana has fewer stores that I consider appropriate. 

Anyway.

I got my credit card stolen for the second time and lived to tell about it.  Hot damn, if that doesn't deserve ice cream for breakfast I don't know what does.

High-Low. I Don't Get It.

The moment I publicly scorn a fashion trend is usually approximately 38 seconds before I decide to embrace said fashion trend. 

That being said, I sincerely hope that this is not true in the case of today's fashion mystery:  The High-Low Trend.

I saw it a couple of months ago on Forever21, but recently F21 has taken the obsession to a whole new level.

So, what is High-Low, you ask?  I'll tell you.

In a high-low garment, the front of the garment is cut high... so as to show of the maximum amount of skin in the front. 

She's got that clutch in front so that her "high" doesn't accidentally reveal her la cucaracha.  The expression on her face proves that's a fact, Jack.

In the back, on the other hand, the garment is cut low... so as to appear as a member of the Amish community from the back. 

(Ok, I'm KIDDING!  I live in a community with a few Amish and many Mennonite families, all of whom are the NICEST people in the whole world.  Not to mention, their families are always beautifully dressed AND perfectly behaved.  We could all take a page from their book, promise.)

But it's not just dresses who are in on the fun.  Oh no, that would be too good.  Skirts have gotten in on the fun....

 As have shirts.

So, to recap, the front is all business.  Hot, slut-tastic business.  The back is all... party party party all the time.

 You know where this is going, right?

Ladies, meet the High-Low Trend.  Hideous from the front, deceivingly ugly from the back.

 

In other words, THE MULLET of fashion trends.

I apologize to the person who's photo I stole.  But really, you shouldn't have mulleted, un-watermarked photos on the internet.  How irresponsible.

Ladies, you have your warning.  Spread the word, near and far.  You can never be too careful.

Stay safe, friends.  Avoid mullets at all costs.  In fashion and men.

GODSPEED.

Friday Funny

I think it's safe to say that we all know I am a product whore. I love stuff. Be it from Target, Ulta, Sephora, or Rural King (oh hello my Indiana roots!) - there are not many products on the market that I don't at least want to try.

Dear Companies Who Make Stuff: Hi, my name is Sarah and I want your stuff. For reals.

So it always comes as a shock to me when I find something so utterly pointless that even I don't want a crack at it.

Enter: The Va-j-j Visor.

Yes, read that again slowly. Va-j-j. As in, your good girl. Your secret spot. Yep, that one.

And yes, visor.

What is it? Basically, a shield (or should I say visor) that protects your inner (!!) girl-parts from the dangers of... well, anything.

But I think they are assuming more along the lines of shaving/waxing/piercings/spray tans/etc.


For only$7.99 on Drugstore.com, you too can be the owner of a shield. For your good girl.

When I accidentally stumbled across this bad boy, I nearly wet myself with the hilarity. I mean... I understand the idea... but in all honesty, wouldn't we learn more from just baring our good girls to the waxer/spray tanner? Even if it just means that we are not wax/spray tan people?

That, my friends, is our Friday funny. Hope you weren't eating cause I would hate for you to choke on your breakfast.

Have a fantastic weekend!

Distracted

A week or so ago, I sketched out a huge list of blog posts that have been bouncing around in my brain from far too long.

Which is awesome, cause it got them off my mind. And then I lost the piece of paper. SWEET!

(I know, I'm so retro! I can't even believe I still remember how to write with a ballpoint pen. How 20th century!)

-----------------------------

Work has been crazy-busy lately... and for once, it has been going really well. Not to be braggy (who are we kidding here?), but I kinda kicked ass late last week. I felt like I had everything under control (except in my head - it was chaos there).

And then there were some recent developments of a more personal nature that just had me amped up around the clock. Can't eat, can't sleep - that kind of thing...

And I pinky promise that I will update you all on the situation as soon as there is something to tell.

But for now, I'm running the show at work this week and need to do a good job. For my sanity. To prove that I can be awesome.

Although, with all the distractions I seem to keep stumbling into - I just hope everything just doesn't go up in flames.

Like this grilled orange bell pepper that I may have forgotten about on the grill. What, you don't like charring?

Or, you know, flaming-ly burnt like the back of my poor knees.

I know you can't see a damn thing in this picture (except the weird bow-leggedness of my legs?) because there's no contrast between all the redness... but let me just assure you that being burnt on the back of your knees is maybe the worst place to be burnt, ever.

Especially when your job involves walking around all day (bad, but not so bad) and bending over and cleaning up messes (omg, worst pain ever. don't bend the knees, ever!).

So if you see me walking around dazed and confused... just point me in the direction of Victoria's Secret. Their semi-annual sale starts at 7 am and at least I'll probably be able to do some minor damage in my distracted state.

Also, you should always pay attention to your grill while grilling. It's a fire hazard.

Burn Baby Burn....

I had grand plans (in my head) to write about shopping today. And of course to talk about my recent purchases, because that's kind of my thing.

Instead, I am feeling the flames of my own stupidity this morning. Quite literally.

I rarely tan my back and I decided that, yesterday, I would make a concerted effort to get some sun on my back.

I put sunscreen on the most vital parts that I normally have trouble with - face, chest, arms... and then I laid on my stomach for 6 hours with a friend.

Feel free to mock me for my stupidity. I'm a dumb-dumb!

I would really like to show you my thighs so you can laugh as I get to stuff them into jeans for work today... feeeeeel the burn.

I am normally a friend to sunscreen but the unseasonably cool temps had me convinced that I wasn't getting much sun. Wrong-o, friends.

So I did try on a few of my recent purchases last night... but the pictures are beyond terrible because I was in so much (whiny) pain that I wasn't much for the changing clothes or the photo-taking.

New purple Express dress.... which I love, except the arm-holes are rather ginormous. I have a feeling I will always feel weird about these arm-holes.


I got the most amazing gray sweater at LOFT for only $15 last week. Seriously amazing. And seriously scorching with a sunburn.

And then I did a TON of damage at the Victoria's Secret Semi-Annual sale online. (It starts in stores on Tuesday bright and early!) (Despite the fact that I just spent around $300 in work clothes and swimsuits at VS.... I somehow feel like I'm going to be at the mall early. Even though I don't need anything.)

Despite the horror of this picture, I will be wearing this top all fall (I got both colors) with leggings. It's long enough that it covers my butt. SCORE.

It does have a ruching-effect on the sleeve which is a little bit strange... but eh, I'll live with it. Or cut the elastic off of it.

(Also, hey Sarah, nice bra!)

And then I bought myself another bathrobe. Because the 3 I have just aren't cutting it and I like options.

So, that was possibly the worst post ever (feel free to correct me if you have another worst favorite) but I have an excuse: my brain is fried. Almost as much as my thighs.

I hope you all remembered your SPF this weekend (on both sides, not just the front!).

Happy Monday!

It's Friday.

Sorry to give you a brain dump on a Friday... but it's all I've got today.

First, did you see my post on the AMAZING dress I scored at Target this past week? Go forth and read.

Also, have I mentioned that I'm reading the Outlander series? It makes it look like I've given up on Goodreads. I haven't, but HOLY COW those books are long. I'm on book 5 and I've been reading the series since March 22. It makes the Harry Potter series look short.

In other news, Meijer now gives you a complimentary wine tote if you buy 4+ bottles of wine. It's the little things in life, people.

If you're wondering what I'm doing with my Memorial Day weekend.... it's drinking and reading.

Hope everyone enjoys the long weekend! I work the next few days until Monday... and then maybe the sun will come back out.

If not, I'll be building an ark.

I Am What's Wrong With America. Right Here.

Today, I would love to be writing some post about how I did my country proud. About how I exercised my democratic freedoms and used the hard-earned right to vote.

But... with deepest shame, I am telling you: I did not vote today. I am not voting this year.

You may remember that since the last election I have moved twice. Which means I should have updated my driver's license. Twice.

(Updated to Clarify: to vote, I have to register in my current township... which is different than the one I used to live in. Which is less than 1 mile away. Weird but true.)

But here's the thing. On October 17, 2007, my life was very different.

My license had been expired for 3 days and I was a carefree 21 year old who feared that, if pulled over with a 3 day expired license, I was going to go to Jail.

Even though the card expired on my 21st birthday and the place had been closed for the weekend that whole time.

Didn't matter, I was sure I was gonna get busted and sent to the Big House.

But that's neither here nor there.

The girl in this picture was carefree and happy. Life had thrown a few hard punches her way but life was still really good.

Her highlights were growing out but it didn't matter cause that was very stylish at the time.

The state (country?) hadn't passed the damn STUPID law that makes you frown in your ID picture.

(Feel free to be jellus of my mad Photoshop Microsoft Paint Skillz.)

The girl in that picture is happy and gorgeous and smiling.

Within a month of that picture being taken my life definitely got turned upside down.

When I look at that picture it makes me smile... and it makes everybody with their new frowny-pictured-licenses jealous.

So I'm not voting today cause I'm vain.

But you totally should cause you're an awesome American.

And I have an awesome ID picture.

Please don't hate me cause my picture is cuter than yours (or cause I'm being a bad American).

Am I crazy or is this totally normal behavior?? What say you, internets?

Let's Talk Polygamists.

So, we've all been reading and watching the clips about TLC's new show Sister Wives, right?

For those of you living under a rock, the show features a man and his four sister wives. As in - he's a polygamist.

Now... the went-to-a-women's-college-feminist in me is all "PIG" and "He's so gross" and "Where is their self esteem?".

And on the other hand, I think "eh, it's not hurting me. Who am I to judge?"

Which I believe is the correct God-ly-answer, FYI.

But then I got to thinking.

This guy's a polygamist, which means he openly loves his four wives.

But wait - he's not the only guy in this situation.

What about cheaters? Men who have loving wives but are seeking love in someone else's bed?

And all the men in the world with multiple baby mommas?

Now... part of me says "well hey, those relationships don't all overlap.

Well, some of them do. For example, the girl one row ahead of me at high school graduation who was pregnant and so was her best friend. Which is great cause now their children are step-siblings (they have the same dad).

Clearly, this man on TLC isn't alone. He's not the only one seeking affection from multiple women.

True, he might be the only one (on TV) who is doing it and calling it marriage....

.... but if you think about it, he's hardly the only man loving multiple women at once.

So. To the cheaters and the double-crossers and the men with secret double (triple?) lives. You're about zero steps away from being a polygamist, in my opinion.

Ladies.... what do you think?? Am I crazy (well, I am but...) or is there some truth here?

Do we have "polygamists" walking our streets in disguise?

(And spare me the line that people have to be claiming multiple marriages to be polygamists. I get that. But what I'm saying is.... the actions are the same.)

Tell it to me like it is, ladies.

(Edited to Add: Ok, so I'm only talking about the GUY here. I totally understand what people are saying commenting about the women. Total oversight. I'm just talking about the guy. Dishonesty aside.... it's the same thing. In my book. To me. And what I'm saying is... "it" happens more than we think. In my opinion. That's how I see it. Kinda.)

Whoa Now.

Hold on to your seats, I'm about to blow your mind.

Guys.

Did you know you could see Jupiter outside last night?

It was just out chilling with the moon.

Amazing, am I right?

And... if I knew how to use my camera I'd have more awesome photos for you. But unfortunately... well, we all know how that's going.

(See that bright dot on the left? Jupiter.)

(I think it looks a lil blurry because there are actually 2 moons right there with the planet. But my lens and camera is not that powerful, let's be real.)

So that's what I got.

Fortunately for me... my dad was around. And he was all "Blah blah blah shutter speed blah blah blah f-stop blah blah..." and so I got a picture.

I mean... considering I don't have the right lens yet... I'm patting myself on the back. Go, self, go!

And yesterday my friends were all "blah blah move to Chicago" and "blah blah move to Indy" and yadda yadda yadda.

And then I drove home through the cornfields and realized....

Right here? Right now?

It's not so bad.

Some people might even say it's quite peaceful.

Humiliation Complete. Ish.

Unfortunately, you're going to have to wait for a giveaway until next week. I have breaking news to share today.

So I wear the most slumpy, ick pair of black pants to work yesterday. I was tired and moody and these pants are pretty tired and moody themselves.

So I'm going about my business when one of my employees busts out laughing. So loudly.

And she's pointing at me. Terrific.

Yep, a solid 3 inches of thigh was hanging out the side seam of my pants. For all to see. (Sorry I rolled up my shirt in this pic so you could get the full effect of awesome.)

I wanted to run into the bathroom and strip and duct tape that seam back together... but I didn't have the time yesterday. We were swamped.

So I walked around yesterday with my shirt yanked over my thighs.

Looking like a hooker in flyaway pants. Said my boss and co-worker.

Awesome.

Completely Insane.

My brother just told me I look like an insane clown escaped from a mental hospital.

It's 8 am and that's a bowl of strawberry ice cream in my hands.

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

(I was wearing the sunglasses because I just came in from outside. Not because my future's so bright I gotta wear shades.)

Do you have any fun weekend plans?

I shall be working and working and moving my crap to the new house. Help!

Bananas Have All the Fun

Seen at the grocery store:

It says "Place Sticker on Forehead. Smile."

Done.

Happy Tuesday!!