Pinterest

After reading I am sure you will disagree with me.  Nonetheless I am not concerned, my four followers know I am preposterous.  They continue to read, I owe them.  If it’s your first time reading, give me some hate via a comment, but come back again sometime, please.

While using a friend’s computer this weekend I clicked on the Pinterest tab.  Just one of my weekend mistakes.

Now, yes, I have my own Pinterest account.  No, I don’t use it.  I just had to reset my password because it has been that long since I have logged in.  This weekend I was reminded why this is true.

My thoughts on Pinterest.

  • Do people have to pin everything they see?
  • How do you pin the most decadent desert and 12 seconds later a lean legs workout?
  • Oh, you like that outfit?  Couldn’t you just go out and buy it?  I am pretty sure you will think it is cute at the store, even if you don’t pin it.
  • You are getting married?  Please, stop pinning I want to be surprised with the details.
  • Hair tutorials. My hair doesn’t do that.  Point blank.  Your hair does, so I hate you.
  • Dream house, you obviously missed the keyword there folks – dream.
  • The “board” for your future children confused me.  Do you know you are single?
  • It’s hard to imagine, but teachers planned lessons pre-Pinterest.
  • Those are your abs?  Again, I hate you.  I know you don’t really look that good.
  • DIY – NLG (Never looks that good)
  • The quotes.  Granted I lack a sensitivity chip or several, however aren’t the quotes a little much for even the most genuine hopeless romantic out there.  #enoughsaid

Pinterest and its organized chaos are following the technology trend and changing the way we solve problems.  Pinterest is undeniably a valuable resource to countless users; I am not the norm (shocking).  For this reason, I think my mom might be proud.

You will be surprised to know, I was not endorsed for these opinions, rather they are entirely my own.

If you disagree, please share.  After all I not only bash Pinterest, but my friends too.  They just roll with the punches and bring comebacks.  I hope you will do the same.

swimmies

Down to Two

Two working light bulbs above my bathroom sink.

lights

I am not concerned; after all I am only living here two more months. Wow, 4 years down, two months left.  (Typing that might be worse than saying it – deep breaths.)

Life changes, I’ll embrace it eventually.  Until then I will ponder life’s insignificant challenges, allowing me to refrain from overanalyzing what the future holds.

Maybe I should unscrew one of the working bulbs, and then when that burns out I can use the other.  That would require preparation; I’d rather take my chances.

Minimal light above the bathroom sink is actually pretty nice.  Looking too closely at myself is often rather frightening.  After all my bathroom has another light and I have plenty of candles.  I just can’t see to appropriately pluck my eyebrows or pick my countless zits.

I do realize Lowe’s or Home Depot sells these light bulbs, but why bother? I doubt after four years I am getting my security deposit back, so my apartment complex can put those funds towards light bulbs. Purchasing some drywall putty for the holes might also be a security deposit well spent. The holes aren’t from my anger issues, the results of that can be found on my muffin-top – thank you binge eating.

The holes are from my one consistent relationship in the last four years.  Enter my tool kit and my ability to channel my inner-Bob Villa. My tool kit and I have established a mutual appreciation.  I wish I could tell you I usually get it right on the first try, but in my true fashion I am make irrational decisions and typically end up with my level indicating success after four or five attempts with the hammer and nail(s). Technically I most likely channel my inner-Tim the ToolMan Taylor more often. I prefer it that anyway.  JTT anyone?

Anyway…

I don’t believe in signs or lame quotes expressing how everything happens for a reason.  Consequently I will soon be living in the dark, and then I will be homeless. I am not, however taking these blown light bulbs as a sign.  I am continuing to follow one of my blog sharing appropriate life mottos:

Dessert

You don’t have to buy anything.

Ever been invited to a party?  You know, this kind,  “Just come and eat, you don’t have to buy anything.” My response is always a simple, “No, thanks.” I don’t elaborate; I have saved that for all of you.

Tupperware – I don’t need Tupperware. I don’t cook.  I didn’t say I can’t, I just said I don’t.  I eat eggs –five nights a week.  Eggs, spinach, salsa, cheese, and mustard what more could a girl ask for.  The last time I cooked was Hurricane Sandy – October 2012.  My roommate can attest to this.

Thirty-One – I have a lunch box.  I don’t need another one and I don’t want any bags with those absurd patterns on them.  I am not a mom, I do not wear mom jeans, and I do not need a mom bag or a purse skirt.  A purse skirt…. is that skirt for real?

Mary Kay – I don’t wear foundation, concealer, blush, etc.  I swear by Wet n’ Wild eye shadow, the $5 green and pink Maybelline mascara, and Maybelline eyeliner.  Once in a while people give me compliments.

Pampered Chef – I don’t cook.  Let’s go back there. I don’t need a salad spinner.  I let the kale dry on the counter before making kale chips.  Please not that I only make kale chips after I have eaten everything else in my kitchen.

Trunk Show – I don’t even know what that is.  I have been told it’s a purse-buying event.  I have a black purse and a brown purse.  They are sufficient.  I don’t need another one.  I also have a satchel crossover so I don’t get mugged. Or if I do get mugged at least I really notice it, probably end up with whiplash.

So no, I am not coming to your “party.”  Yes, I did put it in quotes because really, a party?  I am not busy.  I am not pretending to make an excuse.  I will be honest.  I will tell you that I am not coming because I know how the old, “you don’t have to buy anything,” works.  $73.46 later I have all kinds of skirt I don’t need.

Females throw Pinterest inspired parties.  Entirely too much time is spent cleaning, cooking, and attempting to outshine the last bash.

Males buy beer and if their buddies are lucky, they fire up the grill.

 

Change. Life’s only constant.

Change is a fact of life.  An actuality, easily accepted by some, typically avoided by others.

Change is essential.  A reality, not a guaranteed success, make the most of it.

Change is an experience.  An opportunity, an (un)intentional adventure, live it up.

At times, life changes too fast.  I plan to live in the moment.  I am determined to share my journey with the constants in my life.

M & D, thanks for always being there.  You won’t read this; you can’t because you don’t have the interweb. (No joke)  You will receive the real deal.

Postcards.

postcard

That is right.  The 3 ½ x 5 paper that requires a stamp, a three-line address, and a mailbox.  A postcard has no send button, there is no @, and thankfully accessing the mailbox does not require a password.

My goal…one postcard per adventure.

I don’t believe in checking-in.  I don’t know how, maybe someday that will change.  Until then I’ll continue to snail-mail update my constants.  Life changes, for instance postcards will no longer arrive on Saturdays.

Find your constants.

Accept life’s changes.

Keep livin’ the dream.

Fifty, the New Twenty-Five

You ever think 50 could be the new 25?  Some days I wonder.

No, I am not wishing my life away.  Just hear me out.

Apartment hunt – No longer necessary. I seriously better have my life together, or at least a secure place to live by 50.

Exercise – Running a 5k at 50 means you are hardcore.  Running a 5k at 25 means you haven’t even come close to burning off the after work binge.

Girls – At 50 you watch in a state of utter shock and disbelief.  At 25, you wonder just how they have captured your life story so accurately.

Glasses – You no longer have to pretend to need them to make yourself look smarter.  Or hotter… whatever you so choose.

Facebook – you can like anything you desire on the book and make completely asinine comments. Everyone will just laugh at you; instead of thinking you are a complete moron.

Spring Break – A trip to Mexico, with no parent asking for a detailed itinerary before you leave. Oh and when you return… you ask your child to apply aloe on your sun burnt back.  #lecturefreeliving

DD – Sunday afternoons require a designated driver because you are retired.  Therefore you no longer need to worry about which day you decide to take full advantage of happy hour.  Then again, you probably don’t even need to worry when about happy hour is, because you have a solid income.

Shaving your legs – They say your leg hairs quit growing.  I am not sure if that is a legit trade, considering 50 year olds probably spend that extra time bleaching their upper lip and plucking chin hairs.

Date auction – You are now the organizer, not the attendee.  Prime people watching and eavesdropping experience.

No, I don’t want to be 50 anytime soon.  Life is legit as it is, but 50 deals too.  Yes, the birthday cake might be a fire hazard, but at least at 50 you can eat a piece of cake and not have to worry if people will wonder whether or not you are pregnant.

Share with the fifty-somethings in your life.  I am certain they will say this twenty-something, “doesn’t know a thing.”  I am also sure they will ask, “Why is she posting this for all the world to read?”

Happy Sunday with a no work Monday.

Another T-shirt

Three dresser drawers.
Countless cotton t-shirts.
One daily rumble.
Current title holder – my dresser.

If you want me to sign up for another walk/run/event, all you need to do is tell me there is a t-shirt included in registration.  I will spend more time asking you if I should request a small or a medium t-shirt, than questioning the details of the event.  Sweat for 9 hours on a Saturday… I’ll be there.  I’ll bring my friends.

It is how I give back.

That and re-gifitng.  Don’t act like you haven’t done it before.

A ceramic barn cookie jar, really?  Do I seem like the type of person that needs a cookie jar?  I don’t craft, I don’t deal with clutter, and I surely don’t waste time putting cookies in a jar.  Those bad boys go straight from the baking sheet to my hips.

Re-gifted recipient, you needed aforementioned ceramic barn cookie jar.  It brought a smile to your face when I opened the gift.  You even mentioned how important it is to be appreciative of what we have been given. How does it feel when the cookie jar is in the other kitchen?  I thought so.

One final thought… local organizations can always use the extra support.  Besides walks/runs/events give you an excuse to eat carbs.   No one will judge you if you eat an entire 14 serving size bag of tortilla chips in one sitting.

tortilla chips

They were organic and had flax.  #pasttense

Fat Tuesday

I am not in New Orleans celebrating Mardi Gras.  No beads, just the nerdiest name tag badge imaginable.  No fausnaughts , but plenty of chocolate.  Here is how I lived up to Fat Tuesday’s expectations.

1. Attended a conference in the Sweetest Place on Earth.

2. Laughed aloud during the key note speaker’s presentation at a friend’s ability to teach a lesson on hash-tagging.

photo-13

3. Experienced claustrophobia at its finest.

4. Browsed the vendor hall.

5. Stopped only at vendors with chocolate.

4. Posed for a Polaroid because noone else was brave enough.

photo-12

5. Used said Polaroid as a conversation starter.

6. Admitted my addiction to lipgloss.

7. Tabulated chocolate consumption. –  5 Reeses cups, 1 Goodbar, 2 Butterfingers, 2 York Peppermint Patties, 1 Twix, 1 Hershey’s Nugget with Almonds.

Fat Tuesday.  They were small.  Do not judge.  I could be out collecting beads today.

8. Came home…dumped M&M’s into a jar of peanut butter.  Ate with a spoon.  #twice.

9. Realized yet again, I am all or nothing girl.  Done.  No nut butters.  No sweets.

10. Channeled Fat Amy Patricia.

Your life doesn’t seem that lame after all does it?  Just wanted to bring you back to reality.  I am much more legit than ABC.  If you are still watching The Bachelor, which Sweet Brown, I am not… I think you can find a better option.

New Orleans style or not, life is what you make it.