Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Underpants, underpants, and more underpants.

I just had a conversation about my Booty-Bump last night as I discussed the fact that I plan on wearing it under my wedding dress. Obviously.

Which leads me to re-posting this from last year about my GIANT UNDERPANTS. Seriously, you guys, underpants don't fit my freakish body.

However, I promise to post something real, in the form of the Friday Wrapup, on Friday! See you then!


Ok, so I don’t remember if I’ve ever told you guys about my ongoing issues with giant underpants. Have I?  Basically, it’s that I own and wear - accidentally - giant underpants that never fit my fanny.  Why? Because I was blessed with a behind that is simply an extension of my upper legs and in no way has shape or form.

Which, I must say, is a really unfortunate attribute in a post J-Lo world.

Anyway, I’ve had many a situation where I’ve found myself walking down the street while having to pull up my giant underpants as they make their way down my thighs. And one time I was getting patted down by an airport security person (like, I was at the airport, so it wasn’t inappropriate or anything) and I TOTALLY COULD TELL that she felt my underpants around my upper thighs and kept moving her hand up and down over it to figure out what the hell it was.

So obviously I immediately texted Courtney and was like “I think the airport security woman just realized that my underpants are not where they’re supposed to be.” And she was like “this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having with an adult.”

Also, I want to just cut to the chase where we experience the inevitable moment of you telling me that I’m just buying the wrong size underpants.

First of all, no I’m not.

Second of all, people in the underpants industry need to start making undergarments for people without any junk in the trunk. You can’t just assume there’s going to be a little something there. Some of us have tried for years – via chocolate cake and extra servings of pasta – to create the illusion of a bump, to no avail.

Some of us have even purchased the As Seen On TV Booty Bump, complete with the experience of your friends giving you the “good game” pat on your rear after a super funny joke or something and being like “why does your butt feel like pushy cotton?” And then you have to be like “What? That’s what butts feel like.” And they’re like “No, we have butts. That’s not what they feel like.” And then you hang your head in shame because FAIL.

Anyway, this happened, yet again, yesterday morning – and ALL DAY – while walking to work. I made the Number One Big Underpants Mistake and wore a dress. This is a no-no when your undergarments don’t fit because they will inevitably surpass the hemline of your dress, if you’re not careful, and then you’ll become THAT GIRL.

Also, I’m totally that girl.  
Tights might be a good option.

And I realize that if I bought smaller underpants, they’d likely stay around my waist because they’d be tighter. But then there’s the great debate of “What’s better? Underpants around your thighs or muffin top?”

A question for the ages.

Anyway, wearing accidentally giant underpants with a dress is super uncomfortable because you have to develop a finely honed skill of pulling your underpants up while simultaneously pulling your dress down so that you don’t moon half of Manhattan. And you also find yourself having these conversations with your better half.

CB: “So I saw that you were going to post something tomorrow about your underpants.”
Me: “Ugh, yes. They’re soooo big.”
CB: “You’re wearing the wrong underwear.”
Me: “It doesn’t happen to all of them, but enough to where I think that it’s the underwear, not me. I mean, they fall down ALL the time.”
CB: “But you’re the one buying the underwear, right?”
Me: “Right. But at least I have cute underwear.”
CB: “Kind of not the point.”
Me: “I think they’re either labeled wrong or my butt is even smaller than I thought it was. I mean, I can’t wear the Booty Bump every day.”
CB: “The what?”
Me: “The Booty Bump. It gives your booty a little bump.”
CB: “You know there are exercises you could do that would do that naturally so you don’t have to wear something called the Booty Bump?”
Me: “I’ve tried everything. If I do exercises it just makes my butt muscular and flat.”
CB: “But there are body builders and stuff who obviously can do it.”
Me: “So you want me to be a body builder so I can have a butt?”
CB: “No, you’re missing the point. I’m just saying that it’s possible to exercise and create that naturally by doing various exercises.”
Me: “I don’t want to do steroids.”
CB: “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
Me: “I’m just saying that sometimes my underpants fall down and sometimes it’s embarrassing and sometimes a girl wants the bump illusion. I’m living the dream.”
CB: “You know, you don’t have to tell me everything, right?”
Me: “But who else am I going to tell?”
CB: “Nobody.”
Me: “That’s not an option.”
CB: “I’m aware.”

So what do you guys think? Any suggestions?

Monday, July 21, 2014

Better Homes and Gardens: Beginners Edition

So I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I don’t really feel like an adult. And I don’t even mean that to imply that I feel like a child, because I don’t feel that way, either. I mean, I go to work, I pay rent, I buy all of my own things and even listen to NPR news each morning like only an adult would choose to do. I’m grown.

However, I still call my parents to ask them questions about all sorts of things, ranging from what mysterious illness I think I might have at any given moment to whether I can use dish soap in the dishwasher because I’m too lazy to go down the block to buy more.

Actually, that last part is a lie – I didn’t call my parents for that. Instead, I mentioned that it was my actual plan to CB and he was like “you absolutely can’t do that. My dad did that once and the kitchen filled up with bubbles.” So I’m guessing his dad doesn’t always feel like an adult either?  However, we learned the lesson by watching an adult do it, and so that’s almost the same thing as just calling and asking, I figure.

Anyway, I had another “we’re not adults” moment yesterday when we went to the nursery to check out what we’re using for our centerpieces and decided, while we were there, that we should try to finally grow something in the empty planters we’ve had on our balcony for a year.

So as we wandered around, we happened upon some pepper plants, which seemed like a natural thing for us to grow since we use peppers to cook with all the time. However, did you guys know that you can’t plant certain things next to other things? Like, apparently if you plant mint next to, say, a rose bush, the mint will try to attack the roses and there will be all out plant anarchy. Or something.

I did not, however, know this. CB did, but that’s basically because we’ve established that, in this partnership, he’s in charge of knowing parental-type things like that so our future children have someone to call when they’re panic-gardening 30 years from now.

Me: “Wow, I know nothing about this. I literally have never grown or planted anything. The only thing I kept alive, other than myself, was Oliver. And he was sort of self-sustaining.”
CB: “I don’t really know very much, either.”
Me: “But you knew that I should Google whether we could plant peppers next to basil!”
CB: “So me knowing that we should check Google is the bar we’re setting?”
Me: “Well, I just picked that flowering plant for the balcony because it had pink petals. So…yeah. I mean, it could be poisonous for all I know.”
CB: “It’s a perennial. It’s not poisonous.”
Me: “See! You totally know about gardening.”

However, the reason this marriage is going to work is because I was wise enough to realize we needed accessories.

Me: “Should we get that cute little gardening tool?”
CB: “I’m pretty sure we don’t need a gardening tool like that to plant three peppers and some basil.”
Me: “We do. And also I think you need gloves.”
CB: “Just me? You don’t need gloves?”
Me: “Ha! It’s funny that you think I’m having any part in the planting. You definitely don’t want me involved in that. I’ll be in charge of aesthetics, you be in charge of labor. Deal?”
CB: “Do I have a choice?”
Me: “And I’ll be in charge of cooking with the peppers and basil and feeding you if you promise to water them and keep them alive because I’ll definitely forget and they’ll die.”
CB: “Yeah, that seems fair. Deal.”

And then we high-fived. Like adult gardeners do.

So if you have any tips for us, green thumbs of the blogosphere, feel free to share them! Unless it’s to tell us that we can’t plant peppers next to basil. Because that ship has sailed and I’m planning our meals for the fall around our “I hope we don’t kill what we just bought!” strategy.

Living in harmony....for now. 

Happy Monday! 

Friday, July 18, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!


First of all, you guys are way ahead of me on the Book of the Week this week. There was a comment on the post before I even woke up! You guys are loyal. Love it.

So, for those of you who weren't up at the crack of dawn anxiously awaiting the Book of the Week, click here to check it out - it's "Spies of the Balkans" by Alan Furst. But you probably knew that already. Enjoy!


This woman should make us all take a good, hard look at what we've done today. For example, I tripped while getting out of bed and then almost fell asleep in the shower. So, you know, I could totally win a Ninja Warrior game show.


And now, the Video of the Week. Basically because I like the song and the video. I'm not a hard one to figure out.

Enjoy! Happy Friday!

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

What day is it?

I woke up extra early today so I could come into work an hour earlier than usual, which is in addition to the additional morning hour I come in for summer hours, and so my brain is two hours more tired than it normally is. Or something. I'm not good at math, but what I do know is that I definitely haven't had enough coffee. And that I thought today was Thursday, which had me super excited until Wednesday took all the fun out of it by being the actual day it is.

Anyway, bear (bare? I think it's bear and am too lazy to google it) with me in the coming two weeks or something as I hammer away at work so I can go on a tropical vacation and not check my Blackberry as sea snakes are trying to attack me. However, I would never leave you high and dry, so I went into the archives and found a post from almost exactly a year ago. How time flies! Enjoy, and happy Wedursday!


So, I think I have to stop mind-planning my wedding for a while because I just came across an article where they were talking about the hip new thing for brides. And it gave me such a flop sweat, anxiety-inducing mental scare that I immediately shut down the internet and tried to time-travel back to when I didn’t know how to use my brain to form words.

Bridal Party Boudoir Shots, you guys.

What are bridal party boudoir shots? They’re a combination of everything in my life that terrifies me, which I’m pretty sure is the exact opposite feeling I’m supposed to have about anything related to my wedding day. Also, I’m pretty sure nobody in my life needs to see me cuddling my friends, nearly-nude, in an 8x10 matte frame.

So um, first of all, how does this conversation first occur? You just, what, approach your future sister-in-law and be all casual and chatty about taking your clothes off together on camera? Because nothing would be more terrifying to me – or CB’s sister – than having that talk. She doesn’t even like to be hugged, so I’m pretty sure she has zero desire to get all cuddly in the nude with someone she’s forced to become family with in 12 months.

I can't even, you guys.
Also, I can tell you right now that my sister wouldn’t even finish that conversation. She’d be like “Girl, get real.” And then start talking about vegan food or something and I’d recoil in the corner realizing that nobody wants to take naked pictures with me.  

Second of all, can we flash back real quick to a few weeks ago when I tried on wedding dresses? (click here if you missed it). I barely like to get naked for myself, let alone for a photographer who is there to take “empowering” pictures of me and my friends.

“Designed to empower women, these photos are taken for many reasons, including bonding and having fun with friends and [gaining] the obvious element of strength and safety in numbers.”

Yeah. Because nothing says empowerment like casually sitting around without my top on while a guy takes photos of me hugging my sister! Also, I’m pretty sure we’re bonded. We’re good. Keep your clothes on.

But regardless of all of that, perhaps we’re missing the biggest detail of them all, which is:


Because I have to be honest with you. I’ve never sat around wishing that the clothed photos of my friends and me at a club were actually of us wearing matching underwear bottoms and hugging each other from behind. So perhaps they’re meant for your future husband? I mean, perhaps if it wasn’t a photo of me, his sister, and my sister, it may have been one of CB’s passing thoughts. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need to ever actually see that outside of his mind.  

Or have it framed above our couch to share with company.

So basically I’m hoping that this is a trend that will fade fast, because I have a few friends who have yet to get married and I’m really in no shape to be in anything but soft lighting from here on out, you guys.

But am I alone here? Or have we all gone ‘round the bend?

Monday, July 14, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

CB: "I gotta tell ya, my own personal hell would be if I was forced to only watch the Hallmark Movie Channel for the rest of my life. That would be my purgatory."
Me: "That really would be your purgatory. Which is odd, since I'd settle right into that new normal."
CB: "Just watching the commercials for the channel makes me squirm."


CB: "If they said 'You have to sit here for eternity with your eyes pinned open, watching the Hallmark Movie Channel,' that would be my own personal hell."
Me: "Um, mine would be if they pinned my eyes open."
CB: "Not if there was golf on."
Me: "Now that's my purgatory."


CB, walking into the room as I'm watching a home improvement show.

CB: "What is this, the kissing cousins home improvement or something?"
Me: "Um, kissing cousins? No, this is Property Brothers. There's no such thing as the Kissing Cousins."
CB: "I thought maybe it was a decorating show."
Me: "Still no kissing cousins on those shows either. "

Happy Monday, everyone!


Friday, July 11, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Two posts, two days in a row! Let's get to it.


This week's book is from a few year's back but is one I just recently heard about again and think I should pick up before our travels next month. Click here to read the review of "Kabul Beauty School" and let me now what you think!


So, if you feel like crying tears of joy and then heartbreak, watch this. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some more tissues because MY HEART IS BREAKING.


And now, the Video of the Week.

Yesterday, I came back from lunch and this was on my keyboard.

It's nice to be understood on such a deep level.

Turns out, my coworker who sits behind me and, thus, knows of my love for all things Huey Lewis, as well as CB's insistence on being a Mets fan, saw this in the paper and decided to give me the heads up that I now have Saturday plans.

And so obviously I immediately listened to my favorite Huey song (see below) and, for the first time ever (how is this possible??), watched the video. Which has me reconsidering all of my wardrobe choices for the wedding. I need her dress in the boat IMMEDIATELY.

Happy Friday, everyone! See you Monday!

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Well played, karma. Well played.

I know, all people who stalk me online, I did not post yesterday. Know why? Because I can’t read a calendar. And also I forgot.


Now I'm starting to re-think all fashion
ensembles. Though I'm pretty sure
matching plaid and awesome bangs never
go out of style. 
So do you guys remember that time that I accidentally offered my seat on the subway to a non-pregnant pregnant-looking person and then I got all sweaty and awkward and pointed at her non-pregnant stomach in a panic explanation as to why I was standing and forcing her to sit? Yeah, that was a low point.

But not as low as being that woman, which I was yesterday and I was all flattered before being confused and then a little bit offended. All in six minutes. Because I’m amazing and also, perhaps, emotionally unstable. And not pregnant.

Also, I hate when I think I’ve made a good fashion choice and then it turns on me and goes rogue and makes me look pregnant from certain angles. (Yes, it’s the dress. No, it’s not the fudge I ate the other night.) 

So I get on the subway last night, and it’s pretty crowded, no seats left. Not, like, shoulder-to-shoulder crowded, but I did the quick scan, saw that there weren’t any seats, and shimmied on over to a place firmly in the middle of the train.

Which is when a polite, tattooed gentleman with a leather bracelet looked up at me, stood up immediately as the train was moving, and motioned for me to sit. I said “Oh no, that’s fine, I can stand.” And he insisted and said “No, please, you sit.”

And then he kind of looked at me as I sat down, likely assessing (hopefully?) that I wasn’t, in fact, pregnant and it’s just that weird stitching near my abdomen that sort of poofs out in a stylish-yet-confusing way! I’m so sorry, Tattooed Bracelet Guy, I probably would've thought I was pregnant, too.

So then I just sat there with my purse covering my stomach because I got self-conscious and also was trying to half-act like maybe I was in early onset pregnancy (is that a thing?) and that’s what pregnant people maybe do? I was panicking!

But then I admitted to myself that I was grateful for the seat because, much against my father’s wishes, I was wearing flats without much arch support and it was quite lovely to give the dogs a break.

So when I got home, I immediately informed CB.

Me: “So I think maybe I shouldn’t wear this dress anymore?
CB: “Why? You look nice.”
Me: “Thanks. But I think a guy mistook me for a pregnant person today on the train. He offered me his seat and sort of insisted, even after I told him I was fine.”
CB: “Maybe he was just being a gentleman?”
Me: “No, that never happens.”
CB: “I do it."
Me: “You’re different. Plus, this dress does kind of poof out a little bit.”
CB: “You’re crazy. Why would you assume he thought you were pregnant and wasn’t just being polite because you were a woman?”
Me: “Because there were women around me standing that he didn’t offer his seat to. And I had plenty of time to check them out while I was sitting and at least two of them were attractive. So if he was just being polite, he’d offer it to them.”
CB: “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
Me: “I had all of this time on my hands just sitting on the train.”


Me: “So you think he thought I was pregnant, right?”
CB: “I’m not going to say anything because there’s no possible way for me to win here.”
Me: “Spoken like a true gentleman.”

Happy Thursday, everyone! 

Monday, July 7, 2014

Friday Wrapup...just kidding, it's Monday!

So I figured that you guys wouldn't be checking for blog updates on a holiday, but apparently I was wrong because I got a bunch of emails essentially telling me that I'm slacking. Except thinly veiled as wondering where Friday's wrapup was.

Here it is! Just a few days late. Let's get to it!

This week's book is called "The Sea," and is very appropriate since the review was written by my dad AND is about the sea, which has terrifying snakes ready to attack me when I go snorkeling. And since my dad was the one to enlighten me about this aquatic nightmare (and ruin CB's honeymoon in the process), I thought it'd be a good time to highlight it.

Anyway, click here to check it out and peruse for other good summer reads!


My sister sent this to me and I'm sure some of you have already seen it. But being a woman myself, watching my niece grow up, and hoping to someday raise boys or girls without these sorts of misconceptions, made it even more relevant.

Also, I run like a girl. And smoke the guys at the gym all the time. Take that, gender stereotypes!


Um, a co-worker sent this to me last week and, I must admit, I've tried doing this in my life. Likely within the last 6 months. Mainly out of sheer laziness or because I'd just given myself a manicure, but I never succeeded, hence, hats off to this dude.

Also, this is a fairly accurate interpretation of what I look like when I start dancing. You've been warned.


And now, the Video of the Week.

This song popped into my head this morning as I was walking to work and I immediately played it on repeat. In the midst of these next few weeks of final planning and just the overall craziness that is life, it seemed pretty darned appropriate. I love love.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

In which I lose my mind before 7am.

This morning, I woke up around 4:30 after dreaming that I was helping Tabatha (from “Tabatha Takes Over” on Bravo. Duh.) re-do a salon, as I do in my spare time, while also living in a dormitory made up of past co-workers who wanted me to go swimming with them. But all I had was one of those old timey bathing suits with the cap and I felt out of place and hip-y and so I declined and hid under the bed. As adults are known to do.

"I promise to only make you watch
one Bravo show per week....unless
there's a Flipping Out marathon on,
which will only count as one show...."
And so then I woke up and felt all weird and oddly awake and so I decided that this was the perfect time to work on my vows. Because CB and I decided we’d be all romantic and write them ourselves. And also because we are complete idiots. I mean, it’ll be super touching and will make me weepy for sure when we actually cry-say them to each other (I’m guessing CB will cry-say them, I will be the picture of stoicism, per usual). But right now, I’m just feeling stress-y that his are going to be way better than mine (because obviously this is a competition) and that’ll make me re-write them on the spot, which will likely result in super awkward vows that talk about promising to, like, not always make him high-five me in public or something. Actually, that’s not bad….

So anyway, I started jotting down some stuff on my phone, which lead me to realize that the woman at the Marriott never wrote me back from my last three emails, which found me composing a note from bed at 5:15 in the morning about a breakfast buffet and shuttle service, which isn’t crazy at all. And then I thought about a friend going through a tough time and texted her to check in, while remembering that we left the clothes in the dryer overnight and uh-oh, my cardigan that I wanted to wear with my dress will be all wrinkly, so I got up and re-dried all the clothes. And then I realized that I’d forgotten to go to the store and buy CB razors and get us paper towels and dishwashing detergent, and so I started making a shopping list on my phone. Which is when I remembered that I needed to follow-up with Bed, Bath, and Beyond because our balcony furniture still isn’t here, and come to think of it, that author I emailed last week never sent me his Table of Contents for a  book due this month, so I better shoot him a note, too.  

And then it was 6:15 and so I got back into bed. But not before turning the air conditioning on in the living room so it’d be nice and cool when we woke up in 30 minutes, and then I remembered that I didn’t respond to a co-worker’s email from the day before about a video, and so I watched the video and responded to that email real quick. And then I got into bed and did that thing where you talk to yourself about how much time you have before you have to get up, and you start doing quick sleep math, and then you lay there trying to count backwards from 7am and you’re like “Oh crap, I’ll just get up.” 

And now I need a nap.  And never did get around to those vows....

Am I alone here or do you guys do this, too? 

Happy Wednesday! 

Monday, June 30, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

Me: "God I love the morning."
CB: "Yes you do."
Me: "But I wish I could stay up later since you're such a night owl."
CB: "It's alright. It's weird that I could be tired all day, but the moment the sun starts to go down I'm wide awake."
Me: "I know, and when the sun starts to go down, I immediately get sleepy no matter how alert I've been all day."
CB: "You're like that book."
Me, looking confused: "What book?"
CB: "'Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Becky.'"


So, for more than a year, CB and I have had a shared Google Calendar where I put all of our plans. And, for more than a year, CB has not looked at it once. To be fair, it won't show up on his phone and neither we, nor any of our friends, can figure out why that's happening because all of his settings have it so that he should be able to see it, but Apple hates us, and so that's that. However, it does show up correctly on every other living computer, but somehow, he still hasn't had a chance to take a look.

This is clearly not something that ever comes up or gets discussed by me when I'm frustrated.

So you can imagine my surprise and excitement when I got an alert last week via email that he had cancelled something that was on our calendar (because the plans got postponed). I was so impressed that not only was he looking at our calendar, but updating it, that I responded to the email. I told him all about what I thought we could have for dinner now that our original dinner plans got cancelled and asked if he could pick up some of the ingredients, etc. I also referred to myself as his "pre-wife" and wished him a happy one week work anniversary.

And then I got this response.

Is that a penis?? I was appalled and embarrassed and a little ashamed of him on behalf of his parents who would not approve of his creative use of keys on the keyboard, I'm sure. But I bet he was just jealous that he wasn't having delicious fajitas for dinner that night. And that I wasn't his pre-wife.

Also, perhaps I should've noticed that the person in the picture isn't the man I've lived with for a year? Details.

Happy Monday!

Friday, June 27, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Oh my God there's so much to get to we must immediately get to it!


First, I had this text conversation just now with Court and then Jason. I'm not a good friend.

Happy almost birthday, my favorite Godson! I love you more than your Godfather does!


This week's book is "The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry" and seems to be one of three I may be bringing with me on my honeymoon. Because that's what people do when they're planning their honeymoon, right? They make a book list? We're such a good time. 

But click here to check out the great review and peruse around for other reading inspiration! There is a TON of stuff to choose from. Thanks, family!


Dear CB,
I'm not snorkeling with you on our honeymoon. You can thank my father. 

Um, so last night I was telling my dad how I'm overcoming my fear of the water and going snorkeling with CB on our honeymoon, and he was all like "Oh that'll be great! Just watch out for the venomous sea snakes." 

And then I handed the phone to CB and was like "I'm out."


Oh good. Right where we'll be. I can't wait to be paralyzed with their venom that will only be
rivaled by the paralysis I will be feeling from my own fear. 


An open letter to anyone marrying me sometime this summer: 


And now, our Video of the Week. Simply (pun intended?), I love it. 

Happy Friday, everyone! 

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Captain Oblivious Strikes Again

Yesterday morning I walked into work and my boss said “Wow, can you believe what’s happening outside?” and I was like “You mean how humid it is? I know. Look at what it’s doing to my hair!” and she was like “Um, no, the big crane and giant mass of sand that’s outside of our lobby.”

Me: “Wait, really?”
Boss: “Yes….oh, did you come in the other way?”
Me: “Oh yeah, I must’ve, I came in on that side.” (pointing to the side where the giant crane is)
Boss, looking perplexed: “Yeah…that’s where it is. It’s really big, I don’t think you could miss it.”

So I walked over to the window and, lo and behold, there’s a giant a$$ crane right outside the window. That I literally walked next to and under. And I legit didn’t see it, you guys.

Easy to miss. 

To be fair, my nickname of life has been Captain Oblivious and I don’t want to embarrass my friends and family by proving them wrong all the time, and so I just roll with it. But also, I worry for my safety? Because it’s not just like I saw the crane, didn’t think it was a big deal, and kept on walking. I honestly walked for BLOCKS on the street that had the crane and didn’t ever see it in the distance...or 5 feet from my face.  And I have Superman vision, as we all know.

Which made me wonder what else I'm missing as I walk obliviously through life, but then I just pep talked with myself and realized that it’s because I’m too busy paying attention to minutia. Yeah, that's it.

Like when CB leaves his giant man shoes in the middle of the living room and is telling me a story about his great day at work and all I can do is fixate on why his shoes aren’t in the closet. Or when there’s a tiny piece of dried egg from his morning egg sandwich left on the stove and I literally can’t sit down to dinner until I scrub the entire thing. Or when I see that a picture frame is a little off-kilter in someone’s home and actually can’t listen to any fun conversation that’s being had because I HAVE TO FIX THE IMPERFECTION.

And then I wonder if there’s medication for this? Also, I'm a joy to be around.

But basically, the pep talk reassured me that I’m a detail gal and leave the big picture stuff to the rest of the world. And also maybe I should seriously consider CB's repeated, strongly worded suggestions that I start wearing protective head and/or body gear while walking through my day. Just in case.

Happy Wednesday, everyone! (look up!)  

Monday, June 23, 2014

And then I became Miss America and Wore an Adult Onesie

So basically this weekend was the best because: 1, I got to wear a sash the whole time, 2, people essentially followed me around pouring wine and champagne and shoving chocolate covered strawberries upon me, and 3, my friends are the best and I got to hang out with them. While wearing the aforementioned sash.

But when I started thinking about how on earth I was going to write about all of the craziness and bliss, I got intense writers block and was like "Someone bring me strawberries and champagne immediately so I can think properly!" And then my empty apartment didn't answer back and I realized that being spoiled for two days makes you kind of a monster.

So in no particular order, I'm laying it out for you.

We had a driver. 
First of all, his name was Juan, he wore a bowtie, and I actually just got stomach pains with the realization that we never got his picture! That was a bachelorette fail. However, Juan was pretty much the best and took us from winery to winery so we could appreciate all the magic that Connecticut had to offer us while keeping to a well-designed schedule. Well done, Juan.

Juan doubled as staff photographer and basically nailed it. 

I compared wine to hot sauce and didn't get kicked out of Connecticut. 
So it's possible that even though I was wearing a sash, my lack of sophistication wasn't completely hidden to the naked eye. 

Erica, the sommelier: "blah blah blah this wine is a one ounce pour."
Me to Beth and NK: "What's a one ounce pour?"
Beth: "'s one ounce?"
NK: "Oh good, I didn't know how to answer that because I thought it was obvious."
Me: "I know that it's one ounce. I meant...well, is there another kind of pour?"

And then it was explained to me that there is a little pourer thingy (official wine term) that they use to make sure it's an even one ounce pour so that some drunken sommelier doesn't give you, like, the whole bottle. Which would be both tremendous and awful business all at the same time. 

Me: "Oh, so it's like hot sauce!"

And then Erica and the rest of the table just sort of sat there quietly hoping that I hadn't just compared wine to hot sauce and that maybe I'd just stop saying words. 

Get in line.  

I was mistaken for Miss America.
Obviously. And I really think it had very little to do with the sash I was wearing. 

Drunk woman at winery: "Excuse me, are you Miss America?"
Me, immediately : "Yes!" 
And then I stepped back so she could see my sash and also ask me for an autograph. But I think she became too shy to ask for my autograph and also probably respected that I was just trying to blend in and really can't be "on" all the time. I just want my privacy, America! 

NK: "Oh no, I have to text CB right now to let him know that he's so screwed."
Me: "I'm about to become unbearable."

I didn't get arrested but we tried really hard.
So, my future sister-in-law is basically the best around and makes me feel bad for everyone else who doesn't have her as a sister-in-law. However, she upped the ante for every bachelorette party for the future of marriage when she unveiled everyone's weekend survival kit filled with tums, Advil, mouthwash, mini bottles of champagne, treats, and other goodies that you may or may not need when you get back from a night out with Miss America. 

And she made us all do before and after mugshots with the tops of our boxes. Obviously. 

I have chosen to keep the after photograph
to myself because even I have boundaries.

(stay tuned below for more information on how to stay on the right side of the law.)

I wore an adult onesie.
So there's this thing called a romper, which essentially is a onesie for adult women. Or a fancier version of those old timey men's bathing suits, except mine wasn't water-proof (sadly). 

Anyway, they're adorable. And I decided that maybe the only opportunity in my life to get away with wearing a ruffle onesie was my bachelorette party, so I threw on a sash, zipped up my romper, and headed out the door. And THEN I got super excited when we got to the first club and there was a girl in the EXACT SAME ROMPER on the dance floor, so I obviously gravitated right on over to her. 

However, she was slightly less excited that we were both wearing adult-sized baby outfits and kind of wanted me to stop pointing at our clothing choice. 

NK: "I thought maybe you knew her or she was also a bachelorette or something and you just so happened to be wearing the same thing."
Me: "Yeah, she didn't seem as excited as I was about it."
NK: "She really didn't. She seemed like maybe she just wanted you to stop talking to her."
Me: "That's a pretty astute observation. That's exactly what she wanted me to do." 

But man, I really wish I would've run back into her about 4 hours later when I'd had to go to the bathroom twice and literally stood in the women's room stall of a casino with my romper around my ankles. Maybe she would've had some removal tips to speed up the process. 

Beth: "Why is it taking you so long to go to the bathroom?"
Me: "Because I have to take my entire outfit off! I'm zipped in!"
Tami: "Oh my God, that never occurred to me that you have to zip yourself out of it!"
Me: "Seriously. It needs, like, a zipper for the easy bathroom access. I think I should design one."
Future SIL: "It does not need that, oh my God. Then it really would be a onesie."
The police tried to bring us pizza.
I mean, if the police don't make a surprise appearance at your bachelorette party at some point in the weekend, I feel like maybe it's considered a failure and the state doesn't have to legally marry you until you right that wrong. 

So, we made sure that it'd be smooth sailing from here on out and got back to the room at what I think maybe was the middle of the night? And then decided that we should immediately consume pizza.

So one of the girls called, placed the order, and then we patiently waited and ate cupcakes in bed until we finally heard a knock at the door. 

Friend, opening the door: "Yes?"
The police: "Someone called 9-1-1."
Friend: "What?"
The Police: "Someone called 9-1-1. Are you ladies alright?"

And then our friend went into fix-it mode and explained that someone pushed the 9-1-1 button on the hotel phone by accident and we really just wanted some pizza. The police totally took it well and didn't arrest us but did give us a stern talking to and left. Which seemed pretty rehearsed, so I'm sure this wasn't their first time at the rodeo.

Future sister-in-law: "Wait, we called the police to order a pizza?"
Me: "I think it was an accident."
Future sister-in-law: "Ok...but then did we not order the pizza?"
Me: "I honestly have no idea. But the police were really mad!"
Future sister-in-law: "Oh they're fine. So really, though, I could use some pizza. I hope we called someone other than the police."
Me: "Uh, so do they."

(and yes, the pizza eventually arrived. And we didn't get arrested over it. Weekend Complete.)


There was a lot more that I couldn't properly explain - both because I have respect for myself and mainly because I'm still sleepy. But what I know for sure is this: I'll never be a good enough writer to properly express the level of extreme happiness and bliss I felt throughout the entire weekend. The planning, execution, thoughtfulness, and good company was more than any one person deserves or could ever expect, and so I basically hit the jackpot (even though I refused to gamble at the casino because that's just too much risk for too little a reward. I may wear a onesie, but I know my limits.) And for those who couldn't be there in person but sent bottles of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries and their love from miles away - it didn't go unnoticed. I'm a lucky girl.

Happy Monday everyone! 

Friday, June 20, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!


First, I want to thank you guys for sticking it out with me these last few weeks when I've been a lazy blogger. Things at work - and in life - have been a bit crazy lately and my blogging abilities are not what they should be. BUT, I'm working on a few (hopefully good?) posts for next week, so stay tuned for that - PLUS, this weekend is my bachelorette party, so...........I'm guessing there might be one or two stories? So check back on Monday!


This week's book is called "The Goldfinch" by Donna Tartt. Basically, I'm the only person in my family who's yet to read it and so I'm posting this as a way to shame myself into getting my act together and reading a bunch of books on my list!

So, check out the post here and maybe we can read it together? Virtual Book Club!


This is more or less what I do basically when I'm getting ready in the morning. Reciting Beyonce lyrics is a known past-time in my home, and while I feel like I sing it exactly like her, sometimes I just talk-sing because it's easier not to be ashamed by my lack of talent that way.

So, obviously I'm posting this.


This is appropriate as we celebrate the first day of summer tomorrow. Also, in this video you can replace guinea pigs with me and you've basically got what it's like to sit next to me at a summer picnic. Or the dinner table.

I just keep watching this on repeat because I'm either incredibly tired or really hungry. OR I LOVE ADORABLE THINGS AND THE WORLD NEEDS MORE BEAUTY LIKE THIS. One of those things. Watermelon is delicious, guinea pigs, you are correct.


And now, the Video of the Week. As I mentioned, this weekend is my bachelorette party and I'm kind of INCREDIBLY excited. Also, I feel like I've grown as a person during the planning process of the party because I've been surprisingly calm and non-anxious over not knowing at all what we're doing (which I think is sometimes referred to as a "surprise.") But I fully trust my girlfriends and soon-to-be family members to not make me wear penis tiara's (unless you give me tequila first) and do make me have fun. Those are two pretty simple requirements, I believe.

And so, this is a fitting tribute to what I imagine is going to be a tamer version of CB's bachelor party last weekend (which he literally just fully recovered from on Wednesday.) Happy Friday, everyone! See you Monday!

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Throwback! My cat diary.

So we're coming up on the anniversary of The Merge. Which sounds much more daunting than "CB and I moved in together," which is why I said it. Likely because of my "flare for the dramatic" as my mother likes to say.

Throwing back to a year ago almost to the day. And cat diary's. You're welcome.


After weeks of slowly going from room to room and throwing things away, giving things away, and packing things away, I think I’m done packing my apartment. And if I’m not, it’s just staying there. Good luck, next tenants.

However, one of the wonderfully surprising side-effects of packing up 12 years of my life into about 15 boxes was that I came across pictures and letters and cards and memories that I’d either forgotten about accidentally or on purpose. There is a lot of life packed into that 500 sq foot, lopsided Brownstone, and yesterday I spent a great deal of time reminiscing.

And then I was stopped dead in my tracks when I happened upon my diary from 1990, when I was 12 years old. Shockingly to no one, it had a picture of a cat on the cover, and so I had this exchange with CB.

Anyway, as I opened up the thick binding and saw pages and pages of pre-teen emotions spelled out in bubble letters, I couldn’t help but laugh. So, I took a few snapshots to share with you. Please note that I have not, apparently, changed since I was 12, which is both comforting and completely terrifying. 


First of all, did I think I was European? Why is the date backwards?
Secondly, I'm pretty sure I didn't have to beg people in pink pen not to read my cat diary.
They could likely tell just by looking at it that there was nothing there to see. 

I love that I added artwork via the "You're Special" sticker.
Also, I'm glad I included the cats in there so their feelings wouldn't be hurt. 

My love for Whitney Houston has been there for more than 20 years.
Also, I think it's important that I made note of my love for Leonardo DiCaprio and crossed OUT those
who I no longer loved. Helped me keep track better. 

*I have some crazy deadlines at work this week, so please forgive me if these are shorter posts than normal. 

Monday, June 16, 2014

In which I talk about a "hotbox" and private parts within the first paragraph.

*Editor’s Note: This post contains the word “hotbox” twice, “vulva” a bunch of times, and discusses the love lives of the Kardashians. Now you’ve been warned.

Ok seriously, you guys, what are earth are you looking for on Google? Because I was looking at the stats for this blog yesterday, and while I’m flattered that I came up when you searched for “mommy sexy hotbox,” I’m quite sure that the FOUR PEOPLE who searched that and came to this site were sorely disappointed. However, I would like to thank said four individuals for naming my future mommy blog. Something to check off of my to-do list.

Anyway, in the midst of judging other people who come to this blog looking for my hotbox, I realized that maybe I should put the gavel down and immediately delete my browser history.

It was a busy weekend. 

To be fair, CB was out of town and I got bored. Also, vulva lightening IS a thing and my mind was blown.  Which is why I sent Beth a text about it:

Me: “…something called ‘vulva lightening’ where – and I quote – ‘bleach is applied to the opening of the vagina.’ So, my vagina just closed up.”
Beth: “Pop culture? Guy married to Kourtney Kardashian is ‘going through something really big?’”
Me: “Well, Kourtney filed for divorce from Lamar Odom because he’s a drug addict.”
Beth: “Oh no the douchey guy that married the other sister…”
Me: “Oh wait, yeah, Kourtney is with douchey guy and Khloe was married to Lamar. Hmm, I know that Kourtney just announced she’s pregnant again.”

Me, googling.

Me: “Scott Disick? Jesus I should use my brain for good.”
Beth: “Can’t use brain…I’m actually watching the show.”
Me: “Oh man.”

Also, can we all take a step back to notice that she never commented on the vulva lightening? This is why our friendship has lasted 20 years.

Happy Monday, everyone! Clear your browser history! 

Friday, June 13, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!

My sister has a new shop on Etsy, you guys! And she's all kinds of talented and is doing a bunch of stuff for us for our wedding because she's the best. And also because she was like 'Please don't make me do things like throw you a bridal shower. But I'll totally make you fan programs!'

Done and done.

Click here to check out her shop - it just went up a few days ago so it's a work in progress, but keep an eye out and spread the word! (thank you!)


Something called the Honey Moon is happening tonight? Click here if you also didn't know what that was.

Oh, and would anyone like to place bets on whether I'll be awake to see it? Anyone? Anyone?

BONUS QUESTION: Would you like to place bets on whether CB and his drunken bachelor party mates will see it?

TRICK QUESTION: yes, they will be awake to see it. No, they will not be outdoors unless Jameson flows from the Honey Moon.

It's Father's Day on Sunday! 


This week's book is in honor of two friends of ours who got married last weekend and had a reading by Calvin Trillin during the ceremony. Which was quite appropriately for them, incredibly cool. 

Plus, this is one of my favorite reads because you really can't help but laugh out loud. I'll sometimes pick it up and read a short story just to smile before diving into, like, "Guns, Germs, and Steel" or something. 

This is the perfect beach read, lazy read, or plain old read-read. Click here for the review and peruse the site for more inspiration! 

And now, the Video of the Week.

So one of my loyal blog readers, Jaime, emailed me on Sunday and said:

Hi Becky,
Thanks for writing such an awesome and always entertaining blog!  My sister's friend made this and I thought you'd really enjoy it for the video of the wk :-) 

I took a look and responded that I'd most certainly make it the Video of the Week and thanked her for sending it. I love getting feedback and suggestions from you guys and encourage you all to keep sending things my way!

BUT, you guys, I was totally trumped by "Good Morning America" yesterday and was like "But I was going to make that the video of the week and now everyone will have already seen it!"

However, once I stopped yelling at the TV, I realized that perhaps that's a stretch. SO, staying true to my word (thanks again, Jaime!).....the Video of the Week. Happy Friday, everyone!

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

A Throwback Parenting Post

Work is trying to kill me, you guys.'s a throwback! Enjoy.


So, CB and I spent the weekend on a lake in the middle of New York state with some friends and their kids. And every time we are around parents and their children for longer than about an hour, we are struck by two competing emotions. The first is OH MY GOD THESE KIDS ARE SO CUTE AND THEY LOVE US SO MUCH WE’RE GOING TO KILL IT AS PARENTS. And the second is OH MY GOD HOW WILL WE EVER BE PARENTS.

And I gotta tell you, the second one yells really loud!

Don’t get me wrong, you guys, I love some kids and like a few more. But the overall kid population at best, entertains me until I want some quiet time, and at worst, terrifies me to my very core.

A clear role model.
First of all, every time we spend a significant amount of time around kids, we come back to our apartment, look at each other, and start tired-laughing about how quiet it is and how exhausted we are. Also, it should be noted that we are never in charge of anything like changing diapers, food patrol, or any sort of actual parenting. We are basically in charge of running the kids ragged so they’ll sleep on the car ride home and giving the parents a few hours of uninterrupted conversation with other people their height.

However, while CB is a natural and children gravitate towards him as a playmate and someone to literally and figuratively look up to, they tend to gravitate towards me as a peer. Which, to be fair to them, makes a lot of sense since I do possess the same sparkle shoes and find yelling randomly and pretending to be scared of monsters a legit pastime. 

Also, my default when around kids isn’t necessarily to parent them – hopefully because they’re not mine and so I don’t struggle with whether to abduct my friend’s kids and raise them as my own. That’d likely be worse than just sort of letting kids talk with their mouths full when their moms aren’t looking and sometimes letting them put their elbows on the table. But I’m not a parent, so maybe I’m wrong.

I mean, I’m sure if CB and I are lucky enough to be parents to kids that are actually from our gene pool someday, things like looking out for their safety, making sure they’re fed, and knowing when to lay down a strongly worded monologue about not hitting your brother will start to just come naturally.

Plus, I think we’re both driven by a strong urge to not raise adults who are giant a-holes. And if we’re being honest, there are worse motivating factors, right?

Nonetheless, there are a few things about parenting that I’ve picked up on over the years that really stick out. Which include, but in no way are limited to, the following:

Repeating yourself is completely exhausting. Correct me if I’m wrong, parents, but half the battle – at least from ages 0-18? – is repeating yourself ad nauseam about what you just told that damn kid three minutes ago. “Don’t hit,” “Get your elbows off the table,” “No jumping on the bed,” “Don’t run with scissors” and other very obvious things that kids would know better if they were just paying attention the first million times you said it.

However, something impressive about parenting is that you just keep doing it. Like, if CB told me not to run with scissors, and then I ran with scissors and he told me not to again, yet this time, he explained why it’s logical not to run with scissors? I’d totally catch on.

But you know what a kid would do? Run with scissors five minutes later, fall, trip, and potentially stab a part of their body. Then, they’d come crying to the person who JUST WARNED THEM NOT TO DO THAT so that you can fix it and make it all better. I mean, it’s like kids are mini psychopaths just waiting to see how much you can take.

Wait, not something a person wanting to be a parent should say? Moving on.

You can never finish a sentence. Ok, so apparently this only happens between the ages of 0-8? 9? I’m not sure. But I do know that at some point your kids stop wanting to be anywhere near you, and it’s kind of amazing because then you can finish having that conversation about “The Mindy Project” you started seven years ago. But while they’re still growing and learning and depending on you for life in all ways, you definitely can’t ever finish a sentence.

Or you can, but it’s in the form of yelling at the other person you’re talking to so that you’re talking over the child who’s asking you a question you answered for them eleven seconds ago (see #1 above). And then it just makes the person you’re talking to feel bad and be like “Please don’t yell-talk at me and just let him know why he has to finish his sandwich before eating the chocolate bar. I’ll wait.”

Kids don’t listen EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY DO. Guess what? You tell a kid not to play with scissors and he’ll be running with said scissors and a 10-inch blade in the other hand before the hour is up. But you accidentally say the f-word or call something or someone stupid under your breath while driving, and the kid will pick it up with his/her supersonic hearing before it’s even crossed the sound barrier.

You’re not allowed to laugh. Oh my God, this one is for sure the hardest. Because those mini psychopaths are FUNNY, you guys, especially when they’re doing something they’re not supposed to do. Which I’m pretty sure is why we have so many unhinged reality tv stars today - they were simply raised by parents who not only didn’t tell them not to run with scissors, but laughed and encouraged them while they did it.

Which is totally my fear! Because I find most things in life at least slightly amusing. And when those things are coming out of a three year old's mouth, it’s downright Second City-worthy. However, when you’re a parent, from what I can tell, you have to not only train yourself not to laugh at or with them when they’re being naughty, but you have to remind your friends not to totally blow your cover, too! It’s a lot of stress as a parent.

So there you have it. An incomplete list of why parenting is hard and makes me sleepy to watch. Do you agree? What have I missed? I told you it was an incomplete list and it’s because I’m extra tired from two days of kid-play!

Monday, June 9, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

So unfortunately for all society, CB happened to be in the room while I watched the cringe-worthy finale of the “True Tori” show the other night.

Me: “Nooooo no no no. Is he going to publicly sing? You know I won’t be able to watch it if he publicly sings.”
CB: “As if this show could get any worse.”
Me: “You know my weirdness around public singing, especially if he’s not good!”
CB: “You know you can turn it off, right?”
Me: “But I kind of have to stick it out until the end.”
CB: “You do not.”


Five minutes later.

Me: “Oh God, he’s going to sing! Look!”
CB: “This is going to be terrible.”
Me: “Wait, do they have a guy playing the guitar while he sings about his affair at her? This can’t be happening.”

Singing begins. It is awful.

Me: “No no no no no. I have to turn it off.” (turning off the tv)
CB: “That was truly awful.”
Me: “Even I couldn’t make it through. That’s really bad.”


Me: “Please promise me that you’ll never publicly – or privately – sing to me.”
CB: “Becky, I can promise you that the only person more uncomfortable with me singing publicly to you then you, would be me.”
Me: “This is why we work.”


Over the weekend, we spent some time on our balcony, which overlooks some other backyards, rooftops, etc. While out there, I noticed two young ladies sunbathing in bikinis on the roof literally right below our balcony.

Me: “Wow, that’s sort of genius. How did they get up there?”
CB: “I think they climbed through the window.”
Me: “Huh. I’ve never seen them before.”
CB: “Yeah, the only other time I saw them was last summer, the day we moved in.”
Me: “Really?”
CB: “Yeah, but I couldn’t tell if they were teenagers or not and then I just felt kind of dirty and old.”
Me: “Oh, they’re definitely teenagers. But they could be 18 or 19.”
CB: “Yeah well....”


CB: “Oh God now they’re putting oil on each other!”
Me: “I’m actually witnessing your pain right now. This has to be rough.”
CB: “I mean, how much oil do they need?”
Me: “It’ll be alright.”

Cut to: yesterday afternoon. CB comes out of the bedroom dressed to go to the gym.

Me: “Have fun!”
CB: “Thanks. Also, our neighbors are back.”
Me: “The teenagers?”
CB: “Yep. And one of them appears to be sunbathing topless today.”
Me: “Oh man, I’m sorry. Now they’re just f’ing with you.”


Me: “But I do think that they’re probably 18 or 19, so you don’t have to feel too badly.”
CB: “Well, that’s something I guess.”
Me: “Of course, if they’re 18 or 19 that would mean that when they were born, you were going into your freshman year of college.”
CB: “Seriously? Not helpful.”
Me: “I know, but if there are beautiful Latin women sunbathing topless on the roof next door, I have to have some fun, too!”
CB: “Well I’m going to go run 8 miles as fast as I possibly can.”
Me: “Best work-out of your life.”

Happy Monday, everyone!