It Looked So Pretty on the Box!

Well Christmas is over. All those weeks of decorating, cooking, baking, planning, dressing up, shopping, wrapping, and stressing are through. Back to life as normal. It is so anti-climactic, as it proves to be every damn year. What do I do with myself now?! I don't want to take the trees down just yet. I still like my holly berry wreath on my front door. My kids fought me to not throw out the rest of the Christmas dinner leftovers. (This was hugely convenient for me to simply reheat food for dinner. Bonus.) My parents left to go home to Michigan. It's just the Ghahtanis again.

So in the recycling tomorrow goes mountains of gift boxes, wrapping paper, and tissue. Goodbye giant Guitar Hero box. So long Cupcake Maker box. See ya' later plastic packaging from My Meebas. And in each of these boxes lies a multitude of those bullshit wire ties, styrofoam blocks, and tough-as-shit plastic that holds all the pieces down like these toys might face a God damn tornado before they reach our kids' greedy hands. You know the packaging crap I'm talking about. The shit that takes an act of fucking Congress to open. Your kid is standing by your side in whiney anticipation of playing with their beloved new toy. You struggle with shitty scissors, sweating under your tits and pits because this is no easy task. Fuck the scissors, give me an Exacto already!! By the time you release the precious treasure from it's plastic prison, your kid is onto their next gift and your paws are bleeding worse than Winona Ryder's at a Saks spring clearance sale when their security cameras are on the fritz.

Isabella's #1 gotta-have-it gift this year was the Girl Gourmet Cupcake Maker. It looked delicious and pretty and perfect on the box. All pink and sprinkle-covered mini cupcakes, little girls with lipgloss in bedazzled chef's hats. Frosting shooting from the pink lever pump thingie like a super soaker of sugary goo. How can you go wrong? I'll tell you where you can go wrong. Let's start with the mix. It looks like powdered cake mix. It smells like cake mix. But after a mere 30 seconds in your microwave, you have a hot foamy cakey sort of thing in a festive paper liner. It looked like a yellow Today sponge. Okay, so the frosting must make it better. Frosting makes ANYTHING better. We added the obligatory teaspoon of water to the powdery frosting mix. How can Girl Gourmet fuck up frosting? We funneled the vanilla goo into the frosting chamber of the icing rocket pump. We placed the cupcake on the swiveling stand that spirals around to ensure even, spiral frosting coverage. Or so the picture on the box claims. Inexperienced pastry wannabe liars. I helped Isabella "pull down gently" as the lumpy frosting squirted onto her cupcake in the shape of a "C". I pulled back on the lever and attempted to refrost the cupcake more evenly. I was not gentle enough because the spiraling action of the cupcake rotator made the little treat jump off and commit cupcake suicide onto the table. Isabella giggled heartily, picked up her mangled sweet, and took a bite. She gagged, asked me to scrape the "chunky and crunchy" frosting off the sponge. I sampled some and agreed. It said "Vanilla Frosting Mix" on the package but it should have been labeled "Vanilla-ish Creamy Spread Powder with Toenail Chunkies". I reread the instructions and in small print it says, "Remember! As a true Girl Gourmet, practice makes perfect!" Yeah I'll be sure to remember that the next time I try to microwave my yeasty sponge cake and top it with your flavored jizz topping. Dee-lish.

Expedited Shipping?

It is December 22nd. Not many shopping days left before the Big Day. Sophie informs me today that she would like some new American Girl Doll clothes. She and Isabella each have three American Girl Dolls (spaced out over 2 years, not all from us in case you think there are spoiled. Please, I know girls who have 6 or more...) I have finished what I thought was the rest of the Christmas shopping. Damn. I immediately checked the website for shipping options. No luck.
"Items delivered today will arrive AFTER December 25th." Super. Santa will definitely NOT be bringing any American Girl anything this year.
I find it humorous that Sophie would ask for this since she rarely plays with her dolls. In fact, unless Isabella is playing with them, Sophie wouldn't even be able to tell you where to find them in our house. The Antarctic Chill we have been kissed by has prevented them from going outside to play. I have warned the girls of imminent frostbite if they go outside when it is this freaking cold.
Sophie, "Mom, what's frostbite?"
Me, "Well, it's when your skin is exposed to extremely cold temperatures for too long. Sometimes your skin will freeze and die."
Sophie, "Will it turn black?"
Me, "I guess it could.."
Sophie, "Will it grow back?"
Me, "I think so."
Sophie, ".....Mom, what's frostbite?"
Grrrr. I loathe winter break.

So today my kids have been quite creative when playing together. There has been no begging for playdates. There has been minimal bickering (knock on wood). It has been, and I'm biting myself in the ass by admitting this, PLEASANT around here. I bought a box of fondant icing to use for my gingerbread house decor and furniture. My daughters think this shit is better than Play-Do, Floam, and Moon Sand combined. It is just sugary, moldable frosting. They have been playing "Sugar Pets" today. Sophie has fashioned a dog, a cat, pet beds, food and water dishes, a bone, a ball of yarn, a bridge, and a fetching stick out of fondant. There is a pile of sugar animals and such piling up on my kitchen table. Once Christmas hits it will end up in the trash because what's better to play with, a new Nintendo DS game or a fake albino, 2-inch sugar cat?

As they played some more, I noticed they were talking about different situations with their dolls. At one point Isabella said her doll was sitting on the toilet. The WHAT?! American Girl makes loads of furniture in its over-priced line of doll goods. There are tables and chairs from every era, teepees, wheelchairs, armoires, scooters, horses, dance stages, beds, sleeping bags, you name it--they make it. But they do NOT make toilets. Bummer. Isn't taking a dump on the shitter pretty human? Aren't they trying to help little girls everywhere create real-life adventures and activities? I think it's time for an American Girl revamp. If I ran the company, here's what you would see in the American Girl 2008/2009 Catalog!!!!.....

American Girl Shitter: Real porcelain toilet with flushing mechanism and roll of 3-ply toilet paper.

American Girl Sneak-Out-At Night Kit: Includes a backpack, a pint of Jim Beam, a pack of clove cigarettes, and a mini Trojan condom.

American Girl Build-A-Bong: Includes a mini jack knife, mini PVC pipe, an eighth of "Maui Wowie", and a hot pink lighter. Roll of duct tape recommended but not included.

American Girl Let's-Get-Expelled Kit: Includes Barely Legal, MILF, and Juggs magazines, a mini molotov cocktail, matches, and mini manual on "Bullying Your Classmates for Dummies"

American Girl "Let's Be Butch" Collector's Set: Includes combat boots, flannel sleeveless shirt, spiked collar, baggy men's jeans, men's clippers to trim long locks into buzz cut, and Chap Stick.

American Girl "Party Like a Rockstar" Collector's Set: Includes crotchless panties, mini 8-ball of cocaine, Britney Spears CD box set, 6-pack of Red Bull, and platform Jimmy Choo sandals.

American Girl Gym Freak Set: Includes rubber figure-8 ankles bands, mini 8, 10, and 12 pound dumbbells, leg-warmers, Propel fitness water, cycling shoes, yoga pants, and personal trainer log sheet to track exercises. Accessory add-on kit includes banana smoothie, Power Bar, and athletic sports bra.

American Girl Scientology Conversion Set: Includes L. Ron Hubbard velvet poster, donation envelope, Tom Cruise stick-on tattoo, "Down With Anti-Depressants" bumper sticker.

American Girl Hemp Princess Collectors Set: Includes compost starter kit, "Go Green" reusable grocery bag, broomstick tie-dye skirt, Jerry Garcia t-shirt, gladiator bamboo sandals, hummus and pita snack set. Accessory kit includes mini water pipe, bag 'o' weed, and lighter.

Which one would YOU buy for your daughter?

Snow Days

I fucking LOVED snow days when I was a little kid. Nowadays we get a phone call and an email from the district letting us know school is cancelled. Back in the day we would sit feverishly inches away from our grainy-as-shit 16-inch TV screen, waiting to see the name of our school scroll across the bottom. Jackpot!!! I never really knew how my parents felt about snow days. I mean, it's not like there was anything they could do about it. We were home, they had to watch us, that was it.

As a parent now I have a slightly different perspective. I hear that phone ring and I cringe. Together-time is mandatory today. This means plenty of fighting. It means kids going in and out, in and out 157 times, tracking snow all through the hallway. It means making hot chocolate at least 14 times. It means trying really, really hard to not duct tape my daughters' mouths shut as they bicker and tell me how mean I am for not letting them stay outside for the entire day so their frostbitten lips and cheeks fall off.

I am a tad layed up right now. I have been sick and I just had some minor surgery. (Scar repair and a couple other things...) My mom is here helping me out. I somehow agreed to be the head party mom for Isabella's classroom. That means I have to contact the other mommies who are helping with the parties. I have to figure out games, a craft, and treat bags. If you read some of my prior posts you know my lamentation about those damn treat bags. They can't have so much as a Tootsie Pop in them. No candy, no sweets, no treats. Part of this "Health and Wellness Plan" which bans anything fun for classroom celebrations. Whatever. I ate home-made cupcakes and had candy bags out the ass all through grade school and did I end up an obese hog with 8 chins? Nope. But I will get off my treat bag soap box.. So I am dealing with all my own personal health issues, knowing full well in advance I absolutely cannot be there for this holiday party. I call one mom about 5 times to no avail. I plan a clever craft for the 1st graders and hand die-cut 30 felt glitter Christmas tress, I score some cute non-food prizes for some games, I buy decorative plates and napkins for the pizza snack, I buy the makings for a fun relay game, I make 30 NON-GOD-DAMN-CANDY treat bags for all the kids. I plan on passing this off to my neighbor who will bring all the shit I can't even be there to see to school for this kick-ass kiddie party. Then Illinois has a crazy-ass ice storm and school is cancelled. Fuck snow days, I am angry. You'd better bet that after break, I will be there with bells on and maybe even a Santa hat to celebrate this damn party I tried to pull off even though I couldn't even be there. Suck it up, 1st graders, it's time for some ho-ho-ho-ing!!! God damn snow days...

Almost Famous?

Well gosh golly jeepers, it appears I am the talk of the town! I ran into a friend of mine who said a Naperville mom who is a Lifetime Fitness gym-goer was chatting about me. Actually it sounded more like complaining. That darn post I wrote about my disdain for bench-savers that one day!! Gee, I almost regret writing it... No, I really don't. If you make assumptions about me via my blog, fine. I have noticed some very high school dirty looks as I pass by some ladies at the gym. It sorta' makes me laugh. I mean, this is the INTERNET here, folks. If you want to read another blog or website or anything of the millions of things on here, it is your free will to do so. I write very openly and I have a crass-as-hell mouth. I will give you that. But I like how I write. I think I am pretty fucking (ooh, there's that word she likes again!) funny. Was it the "hairy twat bag" comment? I can't even recall what I wrote but I'm sure it was a clever melange of profanity. If you think something is funny, you laugh and read it or watch it. If it offends you or goes against your religion or whatever else is giving you a perma-wedgie over it, then go somewhere else. Please, feel free to comment on my shit. I welcome it. If you think I'm a funny bitch then pass my blog link on to friends. Did I mention I sold one of my blog stories to a little station called ABC? I guarantee there will not be the words HAIRY TWAT BAG in the pilot but I guess someone thinks I'm funny.

Who Used All the Damn Tape???!!

I love so many things about Christmas. It is my favorite holiday, always has been. I have been better about shopping for gifts in advance. Sometimes I put things in too many places in my house and get frantic/insane trying to locate them. That's why gift cards are dangerous--way too easy to lose. But the bane of my existence is gift wrapping. It is a never ending task. No matter how many presents I try to wrap in advance, I will always end up with a stack of "where-the-fuck-did-these-come-from?" presents on December 24th at about 10:45 pm. I enjoy buying and giving immensely. It makes me happy to see excited faces from what I give them. And the spectacle of the presentation is part of it. My wrapping "station" (dining room table) is smothered by rolls and rolls of colored, shiny paper, scissors, tape, bows and ribbon, gift bags, tissue, and boxes. I inevitably misplace one of my 8 pairs of scissors repeatedly. I will stomp around in circles from the kitchen to the dining room to the family room, over and over, cursing and foaming at the mouth. Then I locate the scissors which were just hiding under my gift tags. Then I repeat this cycle with my tape, ribbon, scissors again, pen to write with, and packages of tissue paper to stuff the damn gift bags. My mom always warns me of my incomplete wrapping assessment prior to her arriving at my house. I have the best intentions but there are those extra few (37) gifts that rear their ugly heads on Christmas Eve. My mom begrudgingly helps out. I am really, really trying to get my shopping and wrapping completed by the time she's here. Less stress, less swearing, less lost scissors. It's not gonna happen but I can add that to MY list for Santa.

And speaking of that jolly dude, I think Sophie is entering into the non-believing stage. I knew about Santa for a long time but still pretended to believe. I don't want her to blow it for Isabella. She is very adept at noticing the small details. Like Santa writes his A's just like Mom does. And how come the wrapping paper from Santa is the same stuff Mommy used for Daddy's gift? What's next? Will she hire a dentist to measure my bite to see if it's really my teeth marks in Santa's cookies?! Damn sleuth detective child of mine. The kids don't seem to be concerned that we haven't been to the mall to see Santa yet.
"We know it's not REALLY Santa. It's just one of his helpers who work at the mall, right Mom?"
Dammit-all.

On a holiday side-bar, who the hell felt it was really necessary to do away with CHRISTMAS and rename everything "holiday". We are having a "winter holiday party" in my daughters' classrooms. Bullshit. It is a Christmas party. If I lived in a country with predominantly Jewish or Muslim citizens, fine. Call my kids' party whatever you would like. I live in a community of mostly Christian or at least Christmas-celebrating folks. Hell, I know a few atheists who ride the Santa bandwagon for the sake of all the festivities. And who doesn't like Santa?! I am making treat bags (without candy because, God forbid, my normal-sized child eats a few Hershey's Kisses or a damn candy cane!!) and a craft for my daughter's class. I happen to have scored some great deals on the prizes. Guess what? Some of them have-----CHRISTMAS TREES on them!! Oh NOOOOOOOO!!! And one items even says "Christmas". Gee, I hope I don't get sued by some parents over fucking treat bags. Get a life, people. If a Jewsih room mother wants to send a Hannukah treat bag home, go for it. You are putting forth the effort. Kids don't mind, it's a God damn treat bag. People need to chill the hell out and quit making so many assumptions. There are much bigger problems in this world right now than whether or not religious implications are affecting the nature of a 45-minute classroom party. Go smoke a big fat one a relax.

Tradition

Christmas time is overflowing with family traditions. Here are a few of mine which will surely take place within the new few weeks in my house....
#1.) Making a gingerbread house... Sultan has (foolishly) challenged me this year. Sophie is on Team Daddy and Isabella is on Team Mommy. They like to talk smack but we all know who the real deal is around here. He may be the master when it comes to meat but he is way out of his league. Grandma and Grandpa get to do a blind vote. Like they won't know mine is the perect one and theirs is jacked up with toothpicks 'cause they can't make it stay together? I hope Sophie doesn't cry too much when I call her a loser for a week.

#2.) Watching my husband make a delicious, extravagant turkey dinner straight from the pages of Williams-Sonoma magazine. It has become his claim to fame. He is also quite proficient at dirtying every single pan we have in our house, even the ones we store in the basement. He is like an Iron Chef on Food TV who has sous chefs prepping every ingredient in tiny little dishes. But Sultan does not have a sous chef. I think I might have to hide Pierre's water dish or he will throw some chopped parsnips in there out of habit. If you get a 3-inch white hair in your veggies it's not a granny pubes, it's just from Pierre's ass hair.

#3.) Falling asleep at random moments. Some of this can be blamed on alcohol. A little hot boozy cider early in the afternoon, maybe some Scotch on the rocks before dinner, some wine with dinner. This is a recipe for snoring by 7pm for Grandpa. I might snooze for 1/2 an hour before getting my 2nd wind, drooling on the sofa pillows. Uncle Andy might have a little help from Grandma Xanax if the stress level hits him just right (then he will drool and possible piss himself on my couch. We just draw a Hitler mustache on him and didos up and down his arms. It's always Keisha's idea..) Isabella won the prize last year for Best Random Sleep. She fell asleep clinging to a new toy, face-down in Pierre's dog bed.

#4.) Having random mood swings, outbursts, temper tantrums, retreating, and silent shit fits. Okay, I might be guilty of ALL of this drama in one day. If you knew me as a teenager you know what I mean. Spending large quantities of time in close quarters with family members brings out the worst in us sometimes. I will go off and nap or read and not talk to anyone. Okay, I might sulk a bit, too. Sue me. The kids get restless, beat the shit out of each other, cry, build a snow fort, have some hot chocolate, punch each other, make Grandma do 100 crafts projects, scream "cry baby", "meanest sister EVER", and "I hate you" then end up being best friends. My brother hates the family drama and has no problem letting us all know. Thanksgiving was a fucking PARTY with all the moody drama, yelling, accusations, crying, and stomping around. It was The Young and The Restless starring the Seymours and the Ghahtanis. I think we need to revisit #3 and all get toasty drunk so we can deal. I am starting right now. Where's that Malibu rum?..

#5.) Snacking every time you pass through the kitchen. In my house during Christmastime there is always a supply of assorted nuts, fudge, overflowing tins of cookies, crackers, cheeses, chips, dips, chains, and whips. Okay, I'm kidding about the last two. I don't keep that stuff in my kitchen. We are like wandering cattle, grazing constantly because there is just so much there. Are we really hungry? Did we just not eat a meal 45 minutes ago? That's okay, that's what the holidays are all about--senseless eating and elastic waist pants.

#6.) Frantic, "Holy-fucking-shit-I-can't-believe-there-are-more-presents-to-still-wrap-and-it's-1:30-in-the-God-damn-morning" gift wrapping sessions. I found 5 or 6 presents I never bothered to wrap last year because I bought so many. Total gluttony, I know. I am vowing this year to wrap as I shop. It sucks but will be 100 times less painless than having to do it all after the kids go to bed Christmas Eve. Sultan likes to pretend he's soooooo busy with his feast that, oh crap, Molly's presents aren't wrapped!! An every year my mom takes the bait, smelling that turkey brine, and wrapping my gifts for my husband. Sucker. Don't fall for it this year, Mom. He's working you like a 5 year-old in a sweat shop. Give him a wad of gifts bags and adhesive tags and it will be all good.

#7.) Nostalgic holiday film watching. Grandpa loves It's a Wonderful Life and cries like a little girl every time. I favor A Christmas Story and Christmas Vacation and will quote lines repeatedly till someone punches me or takes me down in a wrestling match. Shitter's full!!!

#8.) Reindeer food. The girls make baggies of oatmeal mixed with either glitter or colored sugar. I do not know any reindeer personally. If I was a reindeer I would probably prefer and apple or a big carrot instead of a bag of craft glitter and raw oats. I might even take a dump on your roof if you offered me that shit. How about a couple of Mint Milanos thrown my way if I can wrestle them out of the greasy palms of that fat bastard in the red suit?

#9.) Spending 5 plus hours unwrapping presents. We like to open things one at a time here. That way we all get the "ooh and aahh" moments. With me, Sultan, the kids, Grandma, Grandpa, and probably Andy and Keisha is makes for a lengthy morning. We take bathroom breaks, coffee breaks, snack breaks, mental "get me the hell outta here" breaks. Every single year my mom tries to tell us, "Let's keep it down to a dull roar, guys. Don't go crazy on gifts." And every year by 11:45am, after we've been at it since 7, we know Mom's wishes are in vain again.

#10.) Going to church. We head to the 4 o'clock children's mass at my church. Technically there are a lot of kids there (many of them throwing screaming fits and sitting right behind me. Oh joy.). But does that mean they will let us out early and take mercy on us for bringing our own whiney shorties? Nope. We sing no less than 3 carols in between each reading, prayers, kneeling, standing, and sitting. If you are Catholic you know how much of a workout mass can be. Between "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" extended re-mixes and the aerobic endurance portion of speed kneeling, I think I'll burn about 500 calories Christmas Eve. Better wear my heart rate monitor. And I'd also like to replenish my lost fluids with some Irish coffee.

Tis the season for family love, laughs, and a shitload of drama!!!!!

More Than Just a NIce Pair of Gams

We took the girls to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular starring the Rockettes. It was a really cute show jam-packed with plenty of dancing, singing, and high kicks. I think the amount of rhinestones, Swarovski crystals, and glitter they have on their costumes might rival Elton John's evening wear collection. Well at least his cruise wear evening collection.. I had tried to explain to Isabella exactly who the Rockettes were.
Me: "They are very famous dancers from New York who are known for kicking their legs very high when they dance."
Isabella: "That does not sound very interesting at all. It sounds boring."
She was totally unimpressed. I hoped that by the time she actually saw them onstage she might change her tune.

Heading to a Christmas show made me feel like we should dress up a bit. I always enjoy having a reason so look sassy. Isabella can be convinced quite quickly. Sophie is another matter. I had to choose an outfit that says, "Yes I am appropriately dressed for the holidays and maybe even church yet I do not look like an American Girl Doll." It is a very fine line with her. Dresses, tulle, ruffles, sequins, and any "foofy" stuff is off-limits. If there is a millimeter of anything scratchy touching her flesh she will start convulsing until I cave and let her wear a velour hoodie and pants from Limited Too.

Santa came out and danced like no old, fat man in a heavy red suit I have ever seen. I think it was Mario Lopez fresh from trying out a second time for Dancing With the Stars. This dude had hip gyrations and pirouettes a lazy man at the North Pole who eat millions of plates of cookies each year could never do. There were back-up dancers in bright plaids, stripes, and day-glow legwarmers galore. It should have been called "Supergay--A Christmas Xanadu Odyssey".

Then out came those Rockettes. They ARE pretty spectacular-ific. I know that's not a real word. But these long-legged ladies maybe deserve a new word to describe their synchronized sass. It is pretty hard to choreograph dancers together. You would think a solo might be harder but you are wrong. If you are dancing by yourself if you totally fuck it up and freestyle because you have a brain fart on your moves, who will know? Unless you piss yourself in the middle of stage and run off crying your audience will assume it's all part of the show. These women kick at the same height. It's a tad higher than hip level but not past their chest. In perfect harmony. Quite amazing if you've even seen it. And they change showgirl-style costumes so many times I got whiplash. Glitter, glam, and cellulite-free gams. You might be scoffing at me thinking, "Geez, this show looks sappy as hell. I would waste my money to see that dumb toy soldier dance." If you saw this soldier piece you would shut your pie-hole. Very cool the way these women fall like dominoes into each others' arms really, reaaaaaallllllllyyyyy slowly. Got my money's worth!

But wait! There is a bonus to this holiday show. Jesus comes and hijacks the whole performance! Beware if you are Jewish or Muslim or Buddhist. This might border on religious zealot cabaret. We are talking live camels, donkeys (heard them hee-hawing in the makeshift tent in the parking lot), sheep, and goats. There were shepherds and wise men and the most outlandishly metallic cloaks and robes at every pace. There was a giant flat-screen TV which stated how important Jesus Christ was to the world, comparing him to all other gods and prophets. Jesus and Mary knelt in their manger scene appropriately. The baby Jesus was presumed there in his metallic swaddling clothes. There was more light coming from his aura (spotlight induced) than a disco premiere at Studio 54 in its heyday. I am a Christian so it was all good with me. I was hoping Isabella wouldn't be a drooling princess by this point so she could see the live camels and I would not have to schlep her in her silky foof-a-loof all the way back to row TT in the parking lot. No dice. She missed the camels and I made a papoose of satin to give her a piggy back ride rather than wake her. I did this in high heeled boots and a skirt, mind you. One of the Rockettes came out and said, "Damn girl, look at those legs!! You are strong to carry that kid. Wanna try out for a sweet-ass kick line?" Then Sultan pinched me and I realized I had simply hallucinated because I had sniffed too much incense and fake snow. I slept soundly that night and did not dream of sugar plums dancing in my head. I dreamt of Jesus in day-glow legwarmers getting tossed about by 50 women in fishnets and a perverted dude in a red velvet suit. I'm pretty sure that was not a candy cane in his pants....

Grape-A-Licious

I have a new obsession. I am certifiably addicted to the color purple. It is my go-to color of the season. Summer was all about yellow for me. I carried my delicious patent leather yellow bag around religiously. I was sorely disappointed when they were sold out of the matching sandals. Bummer. But now it is chilly and I am all about purple. It is bordering on obnoxious. I am starting to look like Barney's bastard love child. Not good.

I have 5 purple sweaters, from eggplant to grape to burgundy. I have a purple sweater dress and matching grape suede boots. (These are so damn hot I couldn't help myself.) My friend scored me a sexy metallic purple giant handbag. I prefer some sassy new purple shades of OPI nail polish such as "Louvre Me, Louvre Me Not" and "Catherine the Grape". Purple nail polish can border on goth freak so I need to be careful.

I find this liking slightly ironic. Several years ago my brother dated a less-than-likable individual who was pretty adamant in her dislike for the color purple. Who am I kidding, she was a psycho-ass bitch who had more baggage than Tyra Banks during Fashion Week. I was guilted into giving her a Christmas gift which I decided to make myself because I am freakishly crafty when I want to be. I made beautiful notecards with hand-stamped dragonflies and a matching candle that I melted the dragonfly image directly into the sides of with my heating gun. They happened to be shades of purple. She had the she-balls to actually relay via my brother that, "For future reference, purple really isn't my color." Whore. For future reference??? I'll tell you what I would refer to....her ass which was the size of a pregnant water buffalo. When you are mean, arrogant, hate my children, AND have a giant booty it makes it VERY easy for me to hate you and not even feel un-Christian for doing so.

I wore a black sweater dress to church today and tried to pair it with funky purple, black, and red tights and my grape suede boots. I think I looked like a Halloween hooker from Party City with the looks Sophie gave me. Fiiiiiiiiiiine then!!! I carried ONLY my purple purse but felt mismatched and awkward. I think I might start snorting grape Kool-Aid.