Irresponsibility 101
When you spend a lot of money, if you avoid logging in to your checking account, the balance stays the same.
Color Me Bangg Envy
When I was a wee little one (about 5’11”), with bushy brows and a gap between my two front teeth that I used to wrap with clear rubber bands in a desperate attempt to bring them closer together (It worked. Suck on THAT Planet Orthodonto), I was in a hip hop music group. I think my stage (backyard patio) name was Rose. Lead singer, even. Color Me Badd’s All 4 Love was one of our covers. Such a jam…always makes me wiggle.
I was such a pre-pubescent babe with stirrup stretch pants and scrunchie socks - which were only cool if you wore two pairs - two different colors - and alternated the layering on each foot so that…well, so that they were different on each foot. Ugh. Mindblowing artistry is really hard to explain. (And in case you were wondering, NO I could never wear the stirrups. My inseam has always been bigger than yours. I had to choose between conformity vis-à-vis SaggyCrotch McDiaperButt or cutting off the stirrups, making sure to pull the socks up extra high to hide the fact that I was a fashion poser.) I probably had bangs, too. Last time I got bangs - in 2008 - a friend of mine advised that I never do so ever again. Like in a really stern and serious way, as if he were warning me about the perils of playing with a ouija board in a graveyard on 9-02-10. He was right though, bangs look criminal on me. And every time I get them, I vow to never again take scissors anywhere near my forehead…but we all have moments of weakness. For me, that moment usually strikes when I’m flipping casually through Vogue and placing little sticky notes on all the must-have items for Fall that I might be able to afford if I sell my car, kidneys and sister…because the leggy trimbots rocking those rags almost always look SO DAMN GOOD with fringe. Probably because the bangs add 15 pounds to the 10 that the camera added, which evens out everything that goes into the toilet, which makes the girls look less like praying mantises…but I digress.
Want to know the irony of it all? All 4 Love…4…the number…that comes after 3/three. All for Love. See, that’s fine. That works. JUST FINE. Let’s get serious: I have a debilitating fondness for the English language, including written numbers, integers and yes, even words that sound like numbers. I ANNOY MYSELF. (Cue the rabid copyediting from fellow grammar-weirdos-who-like-2-point-out-others’-mistakes.)
Color Me Badd was way before its time (we can talk about that added “d” later). With the Internet and the rising usage of recreational drugs like Facebook, people have started to take the liberty of creating their own personal languages. Like, totes…it’s hilar. See? GAG. woof. blech. I am not amused.
LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO MAKE YOURSELF SOUND LIKE AN IDIOT.
g2g c u l8r!
Stay tuned for next time when we talk about what happened after I finally started tweezing those bushy brows. Here’s a hint: I ended up without any.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Happiness isn’t about getting what you want all the time…it’s about loving what you have.
Compliments come in all shapes and sizes…
FOR EXAMPLE:
“Your kids are going to be named MonsterFace and WeirdBody.”
Tall 101
When you flip your hair on the front porch and get spider webs in it….you have none to blame but yourself.
That Summer, she is such a tease
Nice of the heat wave to skip town before the weekend without so much as a kiss on the cheek.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Really? Record and Upload audio? You are all TOASTr
I wonder what would happen if you toasted pickles.
