THE BITCH IS BACK

I have discovered lately that I really am a smack talker. Don't get me wrong, I can function in society, it's not like I have Tourettes or anything. But the amount of crap that I give other people in my head is really amazing. Amazingly shameful. Yet I do love that snarky/funny side to my personality. What's a bitch to do?

I know! I'll write a blog that no one, I mean NO ONE, will ever read. Easy. Check that fucking box right now. I'm gonna talk all the smack I want. Get it out of my system, so to speak.

Let's start now, shall we?

Topic #1: Fake hair color
Why why why is it that women of a certain age think it looks great to dye their hair an unatural shade of red/black/brown? This is a color combo that makes a 25-year-old girl look like a kick-ass rocker chick but looks TIRED and old at 40. I would hope that at the point in life where a woman really needs a hair color rescue she can afford to do multicolor strands and make it at least look somewhat natural. I am not shitting you when I say natural colors will make you look younger. Step away from the box and spend the $150 bucks already.

Topic #2: Fucking capri pants
I am fairly sure I have ranted about capri pants before. And it's a really good thing that NO ONE reads my blog because at least 64% of the women I know wear capri pants. But honestly I think they should be outlawed. Who ever thought that cutting a pair of pants off at the fattest part of a women's calf would be attractive must have been smoking crack or at least partaking in the medical marijuana-of-the-month club. F-ugly. Just say no to capris, regardless of the bullshit that Old Navy is trying to sell you. I am serious.

Topic #3: Bathing suits - Just Say No
Quiet down now. I'm going to have a personal moment. I think I have reached a point where I should never wear a bathing suit ever again. I mean EVER again. My ass has reached the point of no return. Or at least a point where only major surgery would be able to drag my thighs and butt back up to a point where the sight of me wouldn't make small children cry. And I don't think I'm alone. Bathing suits are made for skinny young people. So if you can't bounce a quarter off the back of your thighs then more than likely parts of flesh are being exposed that really are better left to the imagination. Repeat after me... SARONG.

Well children, I think that's enough bitchiness for now. I feel better already. Whew.

Nobody move. Slowly, put down the remote control. Turn off the TV. And listen up.

Never date a smoker. If you have to date a smoker, then do NOT date a smoker when they are attempting to quit smoking. And if you have to date a smoker when they are quitting, do not under any circumstances attempt to engage with them in any normal meaningful way. Crabby goes to a whole new level when you are coughing up hunks of tar from your lungs.

My guy has been a smoker since the ripe ole age of 19. Popped out his binky and popped in a ciggy. Barely out of his pull-ups and he starts on the cancer sticks. I love him but I do not love his bad habit. He hasn't figured out yet that smoking just makes you look stupid. Who else but the truly mentally deficient would choose to suck toxins into their personal air bags.

Luckily he's holding up well. He's playing games with his brother and eating lots of cereal. I mean lots of cereal. Thank God for Honey Bunches of Oats. I'll just have to watch and make sure he doesn't try to role them up in a nappy and smoke 'em.

Gah, I hate getting older. Hate it like break-your-finger-nails-trying-to-hold-on-to-youth kind of hate. If I could put a strangle hold on time I would. Believe me.

I take little solace in the fact that everyone is subject to getting older. I look at pictures of my friends, my aunts, uncles, and parents and I see that we are all caught in this web. I understand that for some people they are really okay with this aging thing. Blah blah blah, go back to your knitting honey because this sista is NOT OKAY with it. Not one bit. When it comes right down to it, how I feel about aging is all about me. And I think it sucks balls.

For the better part of my life, even into my thirties, I was told I was "too young." Too young to date, too young to be a writer, too young to manage, too young to make that much money, too young to understand, too young to be taken seriously. So why is it that I feel like I suddenly woke up at age 39 and realized that the tables had completely turned. Now I'm on the slippery slope to old age.

Note to my friends: this is not a pathetic plea to tell me how good I look. Seriously, I understand that I look younger than my years. But my darlins' what the fuck are we going to do about this problem? Screw world peace, we are talking about inner peace here!

Luckily, I fully believe that while we cannot control the number of candles on the birthday cake we can control how we manifest age. We can control our health (for the most part), what we eat and drink, how much we move, what we put on our skin and hair, how much time we spend in the sun. Thank God for that.

So come with me... slather on your hexipeptides, coat yourself in sunscreen, and join the anti-aging revolution. Share your secrets and I'll share mine. And maybe, just maybe, we can turn back the hands of time... even just a little.

CRAP... The Coat Blog

I just wrote up this whole deal on the White Rabbit Coat and it disappeared itself. I had nothing to do with it I swear. Damn.

Anyway, here's the first coat in my "A Coat A Day" blog. Introducing the White Rabbit.

SO MUCH PAPER, SO LITTLE TIME

Is it just me, or does color make everyone this happy? I look outside... bleh. I look in the mirror... bleh. I fill my vision with color and wahhhhhh!!! Happy.


Ten feet of HAPPY. And that could almost sound dirty if I wasn't talking about paper and thread.

CRAZY FOR... JUST CRAZY

I'm afraid the valentines garland has led to other things. I'm playing this little game with myself called, "what other crap can I sew with this thing?" I found a pack of handmade papers that I bought years ago. Cut it up into random scraps and sewed it altogether. Viola!

Cut up some more paper and made a birthday banner for Lulu!

I can't seem to stop. So I'm just going to keep throwing stuff together and stick it out on Esty. I've made a new store front and will post a link when I finally have stuff up. I might even take Michelle's advise and make some black tiny tees with the cupcake on it. Sounds like a fabulous idea!

BLAH BLAH BLOG

I am so hopped up on sinus medication this morning that I just want to crawl back into bed. But work work work calls and so I'm up and at 'em. Sort of.

I got a new sewing machine from Suzanne this last weekend. It's not actually new, I think it's from the 70s or 80s, but it has some fabulous features which I'm fairly sure will change my life. Such as multiple stitching style options. And arm hole capabilities.

I've got a 1940s Singer from my grandma which has been my mainstay machine, but like anything that old, it likes to crap-out on a regular basis. And my sweet old Singer is a delicate flower when it comes to punching through fabric, so no synthetics or thick material like denim, por favor.

This new machine is a power house. It's gonna kick ass on my old Singer and that's why they can never meet. Like two dogs that I know will fight, I will have to keep them separated. But for now, I'm going to town... or at least, I have plans to go to town and sew me up a bunch of crap. Sounds fun, huh?

I made this valentine garland yesterday night using an old Urban Outfitters paper bag and my new machine. Muy fabuloso!