Covet-Part Two

I have been dreaming of corsets.  I have always loved them.  Never worn them, but like fierce heels, I must own them-and let them live in my closet.
I figured now with class starting tomorrow I at least have a reason to own them now...kinda.

I have a game plan as to how I want the costume to go for the class....and it needs to be green (don't ask).  It's a bit hard to find a green corset that does not make you look like Kermit barfed on you.  Trust me.  I have been looking!
So when I thought that I had found one that I liked, I was all geeked up...maybe even did a happy butt wiggle dance..maybe.  But when I looked closer, the corset that I think that I am going to get...was the same one that I had been drooling over everyday for weeks, but in green (the last one was red).

Hmmm....I guess I have a covet type?  Is that good or bad????

Maybe it's me?

One of the first things that we learn as a child is how to form and stand in a line.  So why is it that as adults we forget this skill?

Recently I had to make a trip to the post office.  I am not one of those people that hates the post office.  In fact, I rather enjoy the post office.  But I never really have anything too complicated to mail and I always seem to go in the morning, so there is never much of a wait.

So I did not go into the post office with a sour outlook on the chore at hand.

I go in and take my place in line.  I am about three back.  There is a couple of men in front of me, but they are working on re-addressing a large box, so they give me the go ahead to go in front of them.  I smile, and say thanks and make my way to the next open window.  The postal worker is making eye contact with me, has given me the go ahead to be helped by her...and all seems fine.

All of the sudden, out of nowhere I feel someone next to me.  I look over, as does the postal worker.  The postal worker gives me a strange look that says "where did this person come from?".  We both look back at the person who is all of the sudden within my personal bubble. 
"I need to mail this....NOW"
"Um...if you would like to get in line, we will help you in a moment"
"Now.  I need to mail this NOW!"
"Yes, please take you place in line and we will be right with you"

At this point the rude line jumper turns away from the the postal worker and glares at me.  Full on eye contact.  She doesn't look away.  She holds the glare at me as if I just ran over her puppy or something. It was creepy.
Now, most of the time I would have been nice, offered my spot in line since she was in a hurry, but it just didn't feel right to be nice in this case.  Maybe it was the death glare that I was getting or the fact that she just skipped the whole  line, but I just wasn't going to give in this time.
I looked back at her, took my place at the window, set my mail on the counter and full on stepped in front of her.  Following my lead, the poster worker looked at me with a smile and started some friendly banter.

I could feel the anger from the woman next to me.  The heat that this person was giving off could have roasted s'mores.  She made some strange gurgling sound, grabbed her package and stomped off to her place at the end of the line.  I giggled.

So maybe it was just me, but how hard is it to wait in line for 30 seconds?

Waldorf and Statler Music Tour-HELP!

First things first...HEY STATLER-pack your crap and move back from NYC, will ya?  I need the actual Statler to my Waldorf in order to continue on with our most random of musical exploration.  THANKS!

Second-I have not been going to as many shows as I had planned.  Yes, a few good groups have filtered through Portland and yes, I gave some thought about going, but didn't.

Truth?  Nothing bums me out like a bad show. Well, I take that back.  A bad show when it is an artist that I really enjoy.  A bad show when it is an artist that you have never heard of and just randomly picked out of the Willamette Week, well...with enough drinks, that can just be funny. 

So after seeing two bad shows in a row...I am almost afraid to go and see anyone else.

Although I do have tickets to see Trombone Shorty on the  8th, and I have a feeling that will be a great show.

So...random blog readers...here is my homework for you-who should I go and see next?  Give me some names to add to the next instalment of the Waldorf and Statler Winter 2011 Music Tour.  

Do not really matter on the type of music, as I am open to almost anything.  Well, I can pass up GWAR or Yanni, but anything else is ok.  And the cheaper the better...as spending a lot of money on a bad show just hurts! 

Thanks for the help kids!   Maybe I will pick you up a show t-shirt if I go to the show....and it do not suck!

The non burlesque girls guide to costuming

Step one-

Spend abnormal amounts of time stalking YouTube for ideas and inspiration.

Step two-

Get up the courage to hit up Fredrick's of Hollywood to try on almost everything that they have in the store.  Feel fat in almost everything, but end up getting something.

Step three-

Take above mentioned outfit home and stare at it for hours while trying to figure out how the hell to make it sparkly and burlesque-y.

Step four-

Come to the realization that you really have not idea how to sew.  And that you also have no idea how to even START to turn it into something wearable or make it match the song that you have chosen.

Step five-

Curse the stupid f-ing thing as if it were the spawn of the devil and hate it with a passion. Shove it back in bag and toss it out of sight.
*I am currently on this step and found that I am very good at it.  I have a feeling that I might be on this step for a while.

This is why I drink.

Lions, tigers and boobs...oh my!

Last night was a tough one.  I am pretty much a super hero when it comes to pain and I hardly ever break down and take any meds, but in order to sleep last night, I did.
The thing about taking those sort of meds just before bed is the fact that they often cause one to have vivid and crazy dreams.  I usually have intense dreams anyway, so add the happy pill to the mix and it's game on!
Also, just before passing out, I was online trying to figure an outfit to go with the song that I finally picked.  So I am sure that looking at sites with corsets, bras, panties and chicks with boobs most often larger then their heads, had something to do with the dream.

The dream:

Random, but I had a dream that I had a boob job.  And this was not just a little nothing of a dream.  NO....this was intense and real.

The dream walked me through the whole process.
Consultation
Freaking out on the day of the surgery
The pain of the recovery
The awesomeness of the shopping when all was said and done  (the best part!)

This morning, as I woke up, I fully expected to wake up with amazing, gravity defying boobs of a porn star.
Reality is a bitch, and she hates me.
I woke up with my below average, gravity has betrayed me boobs of a 34 mother of two :heavysigh:

That really is enough to make me want to spike my coffee this morning.

We have a situation

There are a couple of things that I find creepy when it comes to social networking or Internet dating.

Just to be clear--NO.  HELL NO.  I have not gone back to Internet dating.  My brick and mortar dating life sucks bad enough, I do not need to open the door to the freak show...again.

Back to what I find creepy--

1) When on previously mentioned dating website and a dude sends you a pic of him with his cat or him with some deer or something that he has killed and is now holding up all proud.

EWW.  You don't have a friend you could take a pic with?  And really, I don't care to see you in camo gear holding the head of Bambi.  NO.

2)  When someone friends you on Facebook and you have maybe one friend in common and the pics of the person sending you the friend request are all of him, in his bathroom, shirt off and showing off his Jersey Shore abs.

Why the hell would you do that????  While my profile is private, I take it you saw my photo.  DO I LOOK LIKE I AM 16 AND WOULD GO FOR THAT?  Or...godforbid...do I look like Snooki?

Dude- seriously.  Put your shirt on and take a real picture.  HOW HARD IS THAT?????

Thank you for the friend request and all, but you can keep your situation to yourself!

I faked it

No...not THAT.  Get your mind out of the gutter (well, just for this post.  All other times, please...stay gutter bound).
Creativity.
I.Faked.It.

I had to.  I wish that I could be one of those people that takes a look at a blank wall and sees a piece of art.  Or a person that finds a scrap of fabric and instantly knows what to make out of it.
Me?  I just see a wall and a piece of cotton that is meant to mock me as I have no clue what the hell it is meant to be.

With class starting next week, I am stressing about being creative.  Yeah, I do have a few ideas floating around in my head and yeah, I do share them with Melanie to see how lame they are.  And some are kinda kick ass...but for someone else.  For me...they just don't feel right.  At least not yet. 

So while I would love to say that magical ideas just popped into my head and it was easy...it's not!  I have spent large amounts of time online, sitting in piles of my old CD's and just generally searching.
It has kinda sucked...but has been interesting at the same time.

Oh...and did I mention that I got my kids involved?  No, they do not know why I need to find a song, they just know I need one.  So I have been playing random songs, just to see what they say. 
And Kellen...being my kid....wants me to pick an old school Run DMC song.

Hmmmm.....might be onto something with that....but I might have to save that for later!

Good news....all my searching and thinking that I knew what I wanted????  Was kinda wrong. 
I was right in the fact that I knew when I heard the song, everything else would fall into place...and it did.
Now I just have to figure out how to make an outfit all glittery (is that even a word?)
Guess it's time to invest in a Bedazzler (um...no) :)

Feeling guilty

No, this time I am not channeling my inner Jewish mother or feeling the need to say 'I'm sorry' for something that I have done to piss someone off (although that happens alot these days) but I am talking about guilty pleasures.

I have a few...

Stomp the Yard
Bridal magazines
Peg
Shel Silverstien books
Eating chips in bed for breakfast
Hats
Cheesecake
Dancing around my house when no one else is home

What are some of yours????  Don't worry, I wont tell anyone :)
   

Just some thoughts

I really didn't have plans to blog for a while.  In fact, I was going to go into hiding for a bit. I have some stuff on my mind....and I seem to turn into a hermit when that is the case.

After chatting with some people today and reading some of the things that friends have been posting out on facebook and such, it hit me that a lot of people are dealing with some crap right now.

So between spontaneous bouts of crying, sad music and mass amounts of ice cream...I started to think about things and while I don't claim to know everything or even anything..this is what I came up with today.

Love is hard.  It's messy.  It hurts.  It can suck.

But without any of the messy times, we would never see how much the good times mean to us.

This line at the end of this song says it all.  Love is hard...if it were easy it wouldn't mean nothing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Un-6TXyNhQg

So here it goes kids...my deep thoughts for the day..

The things that are hard in life, are the things that mean the most. The things we have to work for often change us the most in ways that we could never even imagine.
There are always going to be times when we cry, scream and feel like our heart might burst. That is just a fact of life. But it is when we have swollen eyes, lost our voice an feel as if the pain just might kill us is when we learn the most about what is it that make us who we are.  Even if you don't see it just at that exact moment.

The things in life that come easy to us never mean as much.  We take those things for granted, toss them aside and wait for the next easy thing to come into our lives.

The things in life that are hard, while they might hurt from time to time are the things that we hold on to.  These are the things/people that change us and leave a mark on our souls.  These are the items/times/people that we appreciate and want around for a lifetime and are not just disposable.

So like the song says...love is hard... if it were easy...it wouldn't mean nothing...

I try to blog daily, but I'm out of things to say for a while. Ill be back soon.

OUCH

I sing.  Alot.

But only at home or in the car and only in front of my kids.
I am always singing to something.  It could be the radio, Ipod, playing around on the piano, singing Dr. Seuss books instead of reading them or singing the songs that I wrote for my boys when I tuck them in at night.

I sing. Alot.

Growing up I wanted to be one of three things:
Elementary music teacher
Star on Broadway
Lawyer

Yeah, I know.  Random list.  And I never made any of those dreams come true, but I still sing non stop.

No.  I don't sing well.  At. All.  I just enjoy it, so I do it.

This brings be to the point of this blog post and to the OUCH part of it.

It is American Idol time again and I have started watching it with the boys.  They love it!

But, just like last year when we watched it, Kellen feels the need to say "Mom.  Too bad you are too old, because I think that you would be great on American Idol!"

While I know the kid is coming from a good place with that statement.  Um...ouch! 

Give your old mom a break,will ya? :)

What kind of wine would you serve this cheese with?

This is just nasty.  I have a pretty strong stomach and most things do not make me want to barf, but after reading this, I had to reach for the bottle of Tums that lives at my desk.

http://www.seriouseats.com/2011/01/would-you-eat-human-cheese.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+seriouseatsfeaturesvideos+%28Serious+Eats%29

I will also admit that I was not all that warm and fuzzy about breastfeeding when it came to my own kids, so the thought of having to go through all that to make cheese out of it...well... BARF!

What are your thoughts on this?  Are you down with some boob cheese?

Random funny from my house

Scene from my house-

Kellen was on the couch playing with this iTouch.
 I was on the other couch on the laptop looking at burlesque shows on YouTube.
Cooper was sitting at the little table working on thank you notes.

We were all sorta watching Shreck Ever After.

Out of the blue Cooper looks up from his note making and proclaims--

"I read about Rumpelstiltskin in the Bible"
"Um...what?"
"In the Bible."
"You sure about that?"
"YES!"


Hmmm....I guess I am going to the wrong church!  

Hide the women, children and car bumpers

What CAN'T you do?

Sing?
Bake?
Knit?
Household plumbing jobs?
Brain surgery?

Ya know, something that, no matter how hard you try, you just can't do it.
While I am pretty sure that I really can't do much on the above list, my main most irritating CAN'T at the moment is parking.

Yes, parking.

After a lifetime spent in the car on Saturday night trying to find a spot, two things became clear to me:
 1-I am pretty sure that the poor person that was unfortunate enough to be in the car with me will never talk to me again.
 2-I could not park my car in a tight spot if my life and the lives of those I care about depended on it. We would all die.

This frustrates me to no end.  My lack of parking skills is my own personal pet peeve about myself.  It drives me nuts-no pun intended.
For one, I hate spending time going around and around looking for a spot.  HATE IT.  Most of the time I will just pay for a lot and be done with it.  $5 is nothing if it will keep me sane. And two, my car is a bit on the large side, so I have no one to blame but myself for not having a clue of how to park it.
And no...I really can't parallel park, no matter how many times you try and tell me that I can.  I can't.  Truly.

So as a driver over all, I am pretty dang good--although a bit on the speedy side.  I don't think that I fall under the typical "woman driver" listing.  But when it comes to parking...I fall under the "don't let her do it ever or she will turn into a crazy bitch" listing.

I think that I need to add 'learn to park car' on my ever growing list of things to do for this month.  Drivers of the local area--you have been warned.

Oh...and to my (probably ex)  friend that was stuck in the car with me...I will pay for all counseling bills as I am sure that some post traumatic stress counseling will be needed :(         

I seem to have ice cream on the brain...

I just took a look at the calender and noticed that today was Jan 14.  CRAP--one month until the most shittastic day of the year--Valentines Day.

I hate this day.
I loathe this day.

It's also on a Monday this year, so it's means that I wont even have my little guys with me to make me feel better. :CRY:

Now, I know what you are thinking and although my close peeps know this, others may not.  BUT--I do not hate Valentines Day for the craptastic love fest that it is supposed to represent.  Nope.  I am good with that.  I am a mushy, gooey, sappy card and romance kinda of girl.  Even though I am tragically single, and none of those things have found their way into my life in a LONG time, that is not the reason why I hate this day.

I would go into the why and the how, but it is really left as a story told over drinks and preferably with me being drunk. Just trust that I hate this day and the whole month that leads up to it.
I fall into a funk. 
It's not pretty.   

And every year I tell myself that I am NOT going to do the funkness.  NOPE. NOT GONNA!  But, like heartburn after a wing eating contest, it creeps up on me.

This year I vow not to let history repeat its self. 

So to you my random blog readers I promise- TO AVOID ALL FUNKNESS. Cuz, well...it's really not all that funny and who wants to read a Debby Downer Blog?

**But just to be on the safe side, if you start to read my blog and you notice photos of me covered in ice cream and wearing horrid sweatpants, just turn off the computer and come back on Feb 15 :)  

Two scoops of super wussy in a sugar cone, please.

At some point in the last few years, I turned into a wussy. 
Super Wussy.
It's like the super hero power that no one wants, but at least one person in the super hero clan has to have it.
The Super Wussy super hero is like the weird cousin that would go and visit the Brady's and something f'ed up always happened when he was around.

This particular Super Wussy (raises hand) has let an 'issue' with a friend eat at her for a while.
This issue is not life or death....but...it has been poking at me like an annoying tag in the back of my shirt.

The old, non Super Wussy me, would have just spoken up, said what she had to say and then let it go.

Super Wussy Tamara?  She sat at home, ate ice cream and pouted.  And at the moment smells a little bit like chocolate.
At least Super Wussy smells good...
Maybe I can get Baskin & Robins to sponsor me if I agree to put a big B&R on the back of my cape?

At least it was the other eye...

No, a man did not do this
No, I did not get into a fight.
No, I do not need you to 'have my back'. *but thanks!

Yes, it is possible that I might need a helmet or some sort of protective gear.
Yes, feel free to laugh at me as I spend all day laughing at myself.


For those of you keeping score-this is the second black eye that I have given myself in the last 10 months :sigh:

Fear of the ruffle butt-part two

Since I had the day off on Monday, I thought that it would be a good idea to try and work out.  WTH was I thinking????  While I know that the act of working out is generally a good thing, it really just made me think about all of the wiggly jiggly bits. :CRY:  Now I know it could be worse.  For being 34 and having two kids, it could be A LOT worse, but then I started thinking about this whole burlesque thing.
Again, I ask you WTH WAS I THINKING??? I CAN'T DO THIS!  NOPE.  NO WAY. NO HOW!

I know that you do not have to be size 0 to be a wonderful burlesque performer.  It really is an art form that celebrates the female body, no matter the shape or size.  I actually love this about burlesque.  I am just not sure that I can celebrate MY female body up on stage with not much on.  And yes, even typing that now makes me break out into a cold sweat.

The reason, two years ago, that I started all this was to be able to get over stage fright.  I figured that if I could get up on stage and strip down to almost nothing, anything else in from of people would be a breeze.  I am starting to re think this game plan.  I mean really,  when will I have to be in front of people???  Lets be realistic about this.  I doubt I will ever be addressing Congress and I am sure that the childhood dream of singing on Broadway is long dead.  And we all know I am not funny enough to be a stand up comic.  So, if you give it some thought, there will never really be a need for me to get over the stage fright. 

But...CRAP....I did pay for the class.  And well, that would be a silly thing to have spent money on and not see what it is all about. 
Thank goodness that I can drink again in two days...as there is no way in hell this is going on without liquid courage (but not too much that I fall off of any stages.  If you have seen my black eye today....you know it would happen to me!)   

P.S... Do me a favor-if you see me out and I am about to eat a burger, snatch it out of my hand and make me eat a salad! I will try and stab you with a fork, but in my heart I know that you are only trying to help. Sorry in advance for any fork t damage that I might cause!

A whole lot of lovin' going on...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Here comes the bride, but it's not me!

Look.  I like weddings.  Always have.  Always will.

They are a joyous event which involves love, flowers, pretty clothes, music and most importantly two of my favorite things-cake and booze.  I like weddings.

So from time to time I will look at random websites that have to do with some part of the wedding planning process.  Today I happen to be on a website for a local business that a friend of mine is involved in.  So, really....I did have some purpose for being there!

Anyway...if you see me looking at some random wedding website on line or spot me doing a double take at a pretty wedding cake in a magazine, please do not ask me if I am getting married!

Lets be real here people--I am a pretty open person. SO...
 
A) If I were even SOMEWHAT remotely close to getting married or purposed to, I am sure you would have at least heard me MENTION a boyfriend or significant other at some point in the last few months.  And not heard me say that I was pretty sure that I was going to die alone with 105 cats.  Just saying.

B) If the above event did happen (the popping of the question and not being eaten by cats) I am 100% sure that I would have managed to wiggle a ring clad finger in your face at some point and that finger wiggle would have been followed up by a happy butt wiggle dance.  Oh yes my friends.  Do not worry your pretty little heads over this one...If ol' Tamara were to be gettin' hitched...YOU WOULD KNOW ABOUT IT!

Ok...now...get out of my cube and let me work.  I have an imaginary wedding to plan!  

My dream ring!!!

It's 8:45 in the morning and I am thinking about drinks-is that wrong?

I don't really cook, but I follow a food blog/website and every once in a while, something will get posted that I love and have to try for myself.  Last time it was eggnog fudge and while others seemed to like it, I thought it was nasty...but I am ALL OVER THIS!  Who wants to come over and try it with me?????
ginger lime cider shandy



The following recipe is really quite arbitrary - feel free to tweak the amounts of each ingredient to suit your individual preference. For example, you can increase the ratio of fizzy lemonade for a sweeter drink.



ginger lime cider shandy



350ml chilled beer (I usually use a pale lager to make shandy)

350ml chilled alcoholic apple cider

350ml chilled carbonated lemonade / lemon-lime soda (e.g. Sprite, 7-Up)

1 large lime, such as a Tahitian

1 large knob ginger, nearly the size of the lime



- Slice the ginger and cut the lime into wedges. Remove seeds if any.

- Muddle the ginger and lime to release the juices, but try to avoid bruising the peel of the lime, as it can be quite bitter.

- Place muddled ginger, lime and juices in a pitcher.

- Carefully pour the beer, cider and lemonade into the pitcher one by one.

- Let the flavours infuse for a couple of minutes, then pour into glasses and serve immediately.

- You may add a little ice if you like, but be careful not to overly dilute the flavours.

I don't want to share!

HA HA Mr. Levine.  You think that you and the stars are just so damn smart and that you have me all figured out.  Well, you are wrong!!


Cancer


By Rick Levine

You may convince yourself not to share your feelings now, but this isn't a viable long-term strategy. Sometimes, it's just easier to keep everything to yourself. Why the hell not?  I am pretty sure it's called building a wall and I am fucking great at it!   But this isn't about taking the course of least resistance, because anything that isn't said now will only strengthen in intensity. You will still need to deal with your feelings eventually; if you keep your emotions hidden, they will just turn up as a projection. Nope.  No projection here!  I plan on drinking far too much to let anything be projected (including vomit).  Your smartest defense is to react honestly and kindly in the present moment. My defensive plan is to just not talk to anyone and hide for a long time.

So, you see Universe... I have a game plan.  I am ready!  Oh...BTW---BITE ME! :)

Yes...I will admit to being grumpy today.  Does that could as not hiding my feelings?  

Things that make me giggle when I have not been sleeping

The Boyfriend Fairy?  No, I am sorry my dear best friend, Melanie, he/she/it does not exists.

Oh...it would be great.  Close your eyes, make a wish and POOF...perfect boyfriend standing in front of you...with maybe a cheeseburger..compliments of his friend, the Burger Fairy.

Sadly, much like The Loch Ness Monster, Big Foot, Leprechauns and a nice mother in law, the Boyfriend Fairy is just a blury black and white photo re posted year after year in The National Enquirer :heavysigh:

Eh....at this point, I think that I would be ok with just finding The Coffee Fairy waiting for me when I wake up in the morning.  Coffee is all warm and fuzzy, just like a boyfriend. Right? 

Just say no...

On Saturday I managed to stay in bed ALL DAY.  No joke.  ALL DAY.  Got home at noon.  Took a shower.  Got in bed.  Never got back out.  Well...I did get out of bed to get a snack...and then back into my little cocoon of happiness.  I am not necessarily proud of how I spent the day, but my body had a game plan and I had to just go along with it.  Pretty sure that trip to the ER on Thursday had something to do with it, but that is not the point of this post.
While I was spending a day as a sloth, I left the TV on the Style Network and seemed to be stuck in a Jerseylicious marathon from hell.  Don't judge.  I know that just admitting to watching 8 hours of this show should be bad enough, but wait....it gets better.  The commercials. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!  I am not sure what was worse...the show...or the ads.
Match.com
The Pajama Jean

Ok...the first one, yeah...thanks for reminding me that I am single and that I am going to die alone unless I dive back into the freak show that is the word of Internet dating. NO. THANK. YOU.

And that brings us to...The Pajama Jean! WTF???  Who the hell thought this fashion catastrophe up and even worse...who is buying this crap?  If you need to have soft and stretchy jeans, please please please do anything else in this whole world other then buying this product.  The thought of just one person buying this scares the crap out of me.  I would rather see a fat guy in jorts.  And you know how I feel about jorts!