Hey You Kids! Get Off My Lawn!

It’s becoming abundantly clear that I am rolling into Old Lady Land at a shocking pace. Yes, there’s still the twelve year-old in me who giggles at the words “balls” or “nuts” and all of that good stuff. But lately other signs have pointed to the other extreme. Some examples:

-I am obsessed with procuring a nice tea kettle and tea pot. You know, for when I entertain the ladies from the church bazaar committee or something.

-As mentioned earlier, my tolerance for a clothing style I shall refer to as “whore chic” continues to dwindle. Sweet baby Jesus, buy some pants that fit you! Ladies, this means pants that are not so TIGHT and LOW that your hips turn into a muffin top. Also, tube tops are flattering on about 1% of the population; it is highly unlikely you are part of that group. The guys are not exempt from ridiculous fashion choices. I want to run around campus pulling up everyone’s pants and turning baseball caps around so the bill is in the front.

-Did I mention I’m learning to sew? An apron? Yeah.

-I sometimes find the music in bars to be too loud, so I go home. Before last call.

I guess this is a good thing, you know? Slowing my roll and all that. Hopefully at some point I’ll find a balance between acting like I’m 21 and on spring break and eating dinner at 4:30 and curling up with my Reader’s Digest.

Really, There are No Winners

Have you checked out “You Spin Me Right Round Baby” yet? No? You really should. Circlestar is freaking hysterical and has excellent musical taste to boot. I’ll wait for a moment while you scroll down and check out her blog. Good stuff.

A recent post of hers was about a less-than-successful first date. We talked about the fact that it’s sad that the best stories are from horrible dates. I mean, it’s lovely if he shows up with flowers and opens doors and even does that whole stand-up-when-you-enter the room thing that makes me swoon (pay attention, dudes) but that does not make for great entertainment. And we all know I’m always up for a laugh at your expense. Don’t look at me like that. You know you’ve gotten a good chuckle out of a few of my unfortunate dating disasters. It’s cool, admit it.

So, Circlestar and I are starting up a little contest here. Not sure what we’ll do about prizes here and this is totally subjective…so just do it because you like us and damn it, this could be fun. We’ll call it “The Best Worst Date Story Ever Contest.” God, how awesome would be it be if we got Trojans and Xanax to sponsor this? SO AWESOME!

Please, no “I got my period while wearing white pants!” or “And then I farted in front of her!” stories. This is not the Say Anything section of YM magazine and who the hell wears white pants on a first date? You’re asking for trouble and deserve to be single. Especially if you were wearing them after Labor Day. I mean, my God.

These need not be bad FIRST date stories. Sometimes the freaks fly under the radar and we get all the way to date #3 and realize, “Holy crap, you’re nutburgers!” Since humiliation does not discriminate, neither do we: gay, straight, bi, married, single, whatever… participation from anyone and everyone is highly encouraged!

Let’s hear it, kids. Sumbit the stories to either one of our blogs via the comment section, or feel free to email them if you’d prefer. Circlestar and I are the boss of this thing, so we’ll decide who wins (or loses, really) this little contest. We’ll post, mock and judge them because hello? This is all about laughing at the misfortune of others.

A Class Act

I’m not one to get really emotional over a celebrity’s death, but I had to pour a little out for my homeboy Paul Newman. Great actor, total hottie, and super-classy philanthropist long before it was trendy.

I’m renting “Slap Shot” and suggest you do the same. Not just a hockey movie, it combines “the underdog team rallies” genre with bawdiness and a heart, which is rare in many films. Plus, hello? Paul Newman.

Around Town

Overheard in front of the Chico Library:

Girl #1: I don’t like skinny jeans.
Girl #2: Really? I do.
Girl #1: Well, I only like them on me. Like, not on a guy or something.
Girl #2: Totallyyyyyy.

Cell phone conversation between young man (maybe 18) and unknown party:

Young Man: Dude, I can’t. Me and Grandma, we’ve gotta go to our hair appointments. (Pause while Unknown Party responds, presumably.) Yeah, we gotta get our hair done and shit. I do it every two weeks on the dot, Man.

Observed on campus while Shaggy-from-Scooby-Doo doppelganger tries to woo a young lady:

Yo! Peace! Love! Recycling!

Working on Our Listening Skills

This morning I found myself singing along to “Funky Cold Medina” on the radio and it hit me: this song is totally about roofies. A love potion for the ladies? Um, thanks Tone Loc for advocating the use of date rape drugs.

I loved this song when I was 11 and now it’s a little disconcerting to realize I listened to it in the car on the way to school all the time. Were my parents that tuned out that they didn’t catch on? Apparently.

If you’ll excuse me I need to go listen to my old New Kids on the Block tapes and figure out what “Hangin’ Tough” was really all about.

Back by Popular Demand

Alternate Titles for this post:

-My Favorite Things 2: Electric Booglaoo (The “Electric Boogaloo” thing will never get old for me in case you were wondering.)
-For the Love of God, You Spend How Much on This Shit?

Alrighty then! Let’s do this!

Curl Conscious Creme: My hair is naturally curly, but I spent my adolescence in front of the mirror, round brush and hair dryer in hand, trying to will it into submission. Free from the shackles of my own stupidity, I am embracing the curl and sleeping in. Ah, sweet freedom! But to keep myself out of Carrot Top territory, I get a little help from the good people at Bumble+bumble. I have tried about five different products from various lines and I think I’m in love. Ready to put down the flat iron? Get yourself some of this stuff and prepare to be complimented. They make two types since we all know there are sub-catergories within the curl genre. Duh. Bonus: there’s no crunchy-curly hair side effect and no need to blow dry if you’re running late.

Never a Dull Moment: The name of this face scrub could describe me. Will she spill water down the front of her top in public? Maybe trip in front of a bunch of construction workers? Or fall asleep at 9pm while watching 90210? Yes, yes, and YES. Unlike other abrasive scrubs, this won’t irritate your skin and it even smells nice. Thanks, Origins, for making something for the sensitive skin people of the world. Everyone deserves to exfoliate.

Eye Doctor: I am obsessed with wrinkles, but the idea of Botox or whatever makes me ill. So, I’m going the pre-emptive strike route and have been using eye cream since I was 20. I’ve tried a few but my favorite so far has been Eye Doctor by Origins. It’s on the pricey side, but I like the way it feels and it wears nicely under make-up. I also like the fact that Origins places high importance on recycling, organic goods and sustainable practices. For some reason this enables me to justify the cost. Roll with it.

Dr. Feelgood: This is the kind of thing that makes my father crazy. When asked, “What is that?” I reply, “It’s make-up, but you don’t look like you’re wearing make-up.” This makes my dad shake his head, pray that Evan turns out normal and sigh, “THEN DON’T WEAR ANY MAKE-UP! Save yourself some money, too.” Oh, Dad, your logic is wasted here. I am BeneFit’s bitch: cute packaging and a clever name? I’ll take two. This is great for a quick touch-up if you’re a little shiny or want to quickly even out your skin tone. Supposedly you can also wear it as a base under foundation, but I’ve never tried that. If you do, let me know how it works out.

Smashbox Photo Finish: Another shout-out to Elisabeth for introducing me to this wonderful creation. As she put it, “Your face feels like cashmere!” You know what? It does. This is basically primer for your face; put it on before your foundation and the rest of your make-up will go on like velvet.

Coffee: Yes, this is technically a “drug” rather than a product, but the people who had to deal with me that one Lent where I gave up caffeine can attest that I need this. Regular coffee, fancy lattes and cafe au laits, over ice…Mama loves it all. I don’t drink it constantly throughout the day, but there’s something about my morning routine that requires a cup of coffee. Lately I’ve been making my own at home, but every once in awhile I treat myself to a soy latte from Cal Java, a local, family owned coffee roaster. And yes, I bring my own travel mug so as to cut down on waste. Calm down, Hippie.


Get shopping so we can be twinsies who smell and look pretty…but have nothing saved for retirement. We’ll be the best lookin’ ones in the poor house. Isn’t that what really matters?