My middle daughter is drop dead beautiful. And I’m not just saying it because she got my ubersexy cheekbones and curvy ass. Everyone says it. And, get this , she hates it! “Mommy there’s so much more to care about than people’s looks!” Yeah. Wah! Wah! Wha! But the way people look can affect everything in their life. Because let’s face it, the good looking people do have a few more aces in their pockets than those less fortunate, ugly people. Or fat people. Or homeless people. Or, just as an example , Democrats. The cards are stacked against some other people. So, yes people’s looks do matter.

The Democrats went out and found the whitest black man they could to run for President. His pants are at his waist, he speaks clearly and eloquently, albeit bullshit mostly, but he’s a good looking man. And if his hands and finger length are any indication of what he’s packing, well, that explains that big ass smile on Michelle Obama’s face all the time. That’s not anti-depressants. That’s being stuffed nicely when she wants it.

The Republicans went out and found a good looking soccer mom that can wear a Chanel suit and baseball cap and not look stupid doing so. Sure she packs heat and wants to drill, baby, drill! But, come on fellow soccer moms , do we really believe that’s not an inside joke between her and her husband? Even her glasses are becoming popular. I know I’d be hunting them if I needed them. They didn’t pick a woman that wears baseball hats and moo-moos! Because they know! Looks do matter!

I could go on and on , Katie Couric! That dumb blonde on The View! Cute, baby, cute! And I’m sorry if you’re ugly. Or need dental work. The world just isn’t ready. Collin County is certainly not ready. We are home to the most beautiful women! And if you weren’t born with it, we are the county to come to and find a plastic surgeon to fix it.

I voted for Clinton based on his sexyphone, .I mean saxophone playing on Arsenio Hall.

The bottom line? Be good looking. Find a way. And who knows what could happen. You just might find yourself on a Presidential ticket.

Ciao!/Sabrina

Today is my annual check up.  For anyone who doesn’t know what that means, let me be clear.  PAP SMEAR.  It even sounds horrid and disgusting, doesn’t it?  Ah, but it’s one of life’s necessary evils.  You gotta do it.  And as I prepare (and there is lots of preparation, right ladies?), I got to thinking.  It kind of reminded me of the first time.  You know?  The. First. Time. 

Let’s think about it.  You’re nervous.  You’ve thought about it a gazillion times and tried to assure yourself it’s not going to be that bad.  Or scary.  You have checked your “aroma” at least 472 times, to make sure it doesn’t have that, as Sabrina says, “old pizza box” smell.  You shave, wax and trim.  Body glitter?  Nah, it looks like you’re trying to hard.

Paint your toes, shave your legs.  Put on self tanner.  Nope, scratch that.  The smell is too obvious and overpowering.   Just some shimmering body lotion will do.

Take feminine wipes in your purse so you can “wipe down” another 384 times just before the Big Moment.

Finally, after much apprehension and preparation, the Big Moment arrives.  It’s slightly uncomfortable, but certainly not as bad as you had expected. 

(Sidenote:  The one big difference between the annual exam and your first time is the missing butterflies in your belly.  At least I hope you aren’t getting butterflies when you go for your exam.  If you do, please seek psychotherapy immediately.  There is something wrong with you.)

At last the Moment has ended.  Whew.  What a relief.  You stand up, lighter without the burden of anxiety and anticipation.  Ahhhhh..wait.  What’s that?  Ick, it’s all wet and gooey and gross “down there.”  Welcome to Womanhood.

Cheers!

Holly

I had the wonderful opportunity to interview Mr. Lafata. He was gracious and answered every question without hesitation. Listen to the interview above. I think you’ll be surprised to learn he’s a big cooking fan and you’ll never guess his game of choice. Thank you again Mr. Lafata!

Ciao!/Sabrina

We are in the middle of a time-honored tradition at the kidlets’ school , it is called Guilt Your Parents And As Many Loved Ones As Possible Into Giving Us As Much Money As Possible.  They cleverly disguise it by calling it “Fundraising”, but a guilt trip is a guilt trip , and trust me, as a Catholic, I know a guilt trip when I see it.

It started harmlessly enough in pre-school with a few Chick-Fil-A calendars to sell, but once the kids reached elementary school everything was kicked up a notch.  We’ve had to buy buckets of cookie dough, water bottles no one drinks out of, candles that smelled awful (I threw those away as soon as we got them home), and reams of wrapping paper.  Last year the kids’ school started this new thing where you could write one check and be done with the whole fundraising thing for the year.  Sounds great, right?  Except here’s the catch , they don’t give you an idea of how many zeroes to put on your check.  I don’t want the PTA Nazis looking at my check and thinking, “Hmmmmmm, that’s all they gave?” 

So here I go again, writing a hefty check for wrapping paper I don’t really need (at least it’s really good quality wrapping paper though , I can’t stand cheap wrapping paper).  And let’s not forget the rewards for selling all this fabulous wrapping paper , sorry, they’re incentives, not rewards or prizes , evidently it might hurt someone’s feelings if they didn’t sell enough to earn a “prize” so we can’t even call them that anymore.  Sheesh.  Oh yes, back to the incentives , a pen, a tic tac toe game, and a slap watch.  That’s just what I need , to pay over $100 for some Happy Meal toys that will probably be in the trash in a week.  And the poor kidlets only get the check from The Yankee and me and The Grandparents because I’m not about to let either The Boy Child or The Girl Child walk around selling door to door (even with me standing on the sidewalk watching).  Thank you, PTA!

By the way, does anybody need any wrapping paper?

I’m just going to admit it.  I started the ponytail/baseball hat/mom/hairstyle trend.  I know there are some men that complain that it’s really a woman that didn’t shower that day.  And somehow they make it seem all seethe and greasy and nasty.  Like I literally sprayed on the FDS, baby powder scent, threw on my moo-moo and finished it off with my baseball hat.

But oh how wrong those men would be!  I have 14 baseball hats that coordinate with my outfits.  Coordinate.  That takes skill.  And, if we’re really honest, it takes skill to aim the FDS at the right area so to keep us all from smelling like pizza boxes in our netherlands.

I love my baseball hats!  I love the look of the workout clothes paired with the right baseball hat, and cute ponytail sticking out of the back.  Swinging and swaying back and forth you can just hear the bee-bop in the moms step with each sway.  And, basically, you men are just jealous!  You have to shave your face every day.  Even if you put the hat on, your face can’t be covered with gray pokies.  And FDS never came out with a male scent , so you must wash your ass.  Especially if company is coming over.

So all hail the baseball hat/ponytail trend!  Take it!  Love it!  Covet it!  Things could be so much worse.

Ciao/Sabrina!

Have you ever gotten the feeling that scientists have no idea what they are doing?  I mean, come on.  It’s science.  It’s supposed to be provable, definite and finite, correct?

Ha.  I’m starting to think we should just say “fuck ‘em all” and do what we want.  Everything is bad, everything gives you cancer and nobody knows why some people eat gravy through a straw and live to 85, while another person is young and healthy, yet gets cancer.

Today, I see an article stating that high fructose corn syrup isn’t any worse for you than sugar.  This is after several years of scientists pounding the table that eating high fructose corn syrup is putting you on the fast track to death.

And what about global warming?  How in the hell is this a political issue?  How can this be a debatable subject?  Either global warming is happening or it isn’t.  How are there two sides to this story?  I really don’t get it.  Either the shit is melting or it’s not.

And remember low fat diets?  They were all the rage until the same scientists who said you could lose weight eating low fat came out and said you can’t lose weight because they are high in sugar.

Don’t eat any red meat.  Or, eat meat only, eliminate carbs.  No, don’t elimate all carbs, just the bad ones.  Is a potato a bad carb or a good one?  It grows from the fucking earth, how bad can it be?  

You must exercise three times a week if you want to stay healthy.  No, wait. Three times a week won’t do shit for you.  It needs to be a minimum of thirty minutes daily.

Cardio (running, swimming, biking) burns the most fat.  No, weight training builds muscle, which then burns the most fat.  Keep your heart rate high.  Don’t let your heart rate get too high. 

Use anti-bacterial soap to clean all the germs off of your hands.  Wait, some bacteria is good.  Don’t use anti-bacterial soap. 

Feed your babies cereal and they’ll sleep through the night.  Wait, don’t feed your baby any solids until they are 4 months old.  Put them on their belly, they’ll sleep better.  Wait, put them on their side, that’s safer. Oops, we meant, put them on their backs.

Is anyone else frustrated and confused?
I think I’m going to stop reading.  Anything.  Wait.  No, I’m still going to read.  But only this blog.  No wait.  Reading this blog is bad for my health?  No, it’s good for me.  I’m going to read it every day.  No, just three times a week?  Wait, that’s not, ..

Cheers!

Holly

I’m going to ask you to take a step back in time with me , not too far back in time, just less than a week , to September 11^th, 2008.  Actually, I want you to go back with me a little bit further — to September 11^th, 2001.  Do you remember where you were when you heard that an airplane flew into the North Tower of the World Trade Center?  Then the South Tower?  Then the Pentagon?  Then into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania? 

I remember where I was.  I was watching Barney on PBS with my almost 2-year-old daughter while my baby boy lie sleeping upstairs in his crib.  My brother called right after the first plane hit and asked if I saw it.  I turned on Fox News just in time to see the second plane hit.  This has to be an accident, I thought, right?  No one would do this one purpose, right?  I could not have been more wrong.  That day I saw evil.

Like the Man-Purse thing, my views on this might be a bit skewed.  My brother-in-law is a firefighter in New York.  His first month on the job?  September, 2001.  Crappy way to start a new job, don’t you think?  Right after the first plane hit, The Yankee called me to tell me that The Brother-In-Law was working in Manhattan that morning , had I heard anything from his family?  We heard nothing all day and The Yankee kept calling to ask and telling me to be prepared , there was no way The Brother-In-Law could have survived.  He was on duty that morning , he had to be dead.  To make things worse?  The Brother-In-Law is married to The Yankee’s baby sister (28 at the time) who was 8 months pregnant with their first child.

Finally, at 7 o’clock that night we heard , The Brother-In-Law was alive.  His firehouse was one of the first on the scene at the World Trade Center, but right after they arrived a call came in that there was another fire in the city, so his truck was sent.  Turns out it was a false alarm.  By the time they got back, both Towers had collapsed , killing thousands.  A month later (almost to the day) their baby girl was born, but she couldn’t be baptized until the following February because every church in the five boroughs was booked with funerals of members of New York’s finest and New York’s bravest.

So forgive me if I get a little pissed off when people forget about or dare to minimize what happened that day and don’t give it the respect it , and those that were brutally murdered that day by terrorists — deserves.  Our family still deals with it every day , in the coughing up of blood of The Brother-In-Law and so many more like him caused by exposure to debris at Ground Zero to the friends who were killed that day , for no reason other than the fact that they were American.  They kissed their wives/husbands and kids good-bye that morning never dreaming they’d never come home.

I’m still mad, and I’m still sad.  I watched a documentary on The History Channel last Thursday called, 102 Minutes that Changed America.  I got sick all over again.  I found myself screaming at the firefighters on TV looking up at the North and South Towers in flames, “Don’t go in!  Don’t go in!”  Hopefully they didn’t.  Please , for all of those lost , never forget!

What the fuck is up with the Cupcake Factory or whatever it’s called in The Shops at Starwood?  I brought home a six pack the other day, trying each flavor -  one tasted exactly like Amoxicillin.  I shit you not.

6 Cupcakes = $20.00  and one tasted like I had strep throat and was being medicated for it.

One of the other ones tasted like ass.  An ass that had recently eaten a pineapple.

And one tasted like I stuck my finger straight into a butter tub and sucked it right off.  Oh, and then there was that one.  The one that tasted like I sucked it off and was forced to swallow.

No thank you Cupcake Factory.  No. Thank. You.!

Ciao!/Sabrina

What is with all the people in Galveston who chose to stay after a mandatory evacuation order was issued?  I read an article about people staying behind to “ride out the storm.”  The police were going around with permanent markers, asking these people to write their name and social security numbers on their body so that when they were found, it would be easier to identify them.
What the fuck is wrong with these people?  Why would you stick around if you were told you WILL die?  Not, you might die, or things might get bad.  YOU ARE FACING CERTAIN DEATH.  AND WE (the rescue workers) ARE HUNKERING DOWN UNTIL THE STORM IS PASSED SO WE WON’T BE AROUND TO RESCUE YOU.  I don’t get it. 

If you were sticking around to protect your home, fine.  But your home is going to be destroyed.  And you’ve been given enough time to take your photos and important items with you.  So that’s not a good argument.

If you are sticking around because you think it’s a false alarm, well, I guess I get that too.  Meteorologists are wrong all the time, right?  But it’s not like you decided to wash your car because they said it would be sunny and then it rains and you’re pissed that you wasted your time washing the car.  This is life or death.  I don’t understand why you take chances.

One old man, who was 75-years-old said “This ain’t the first hurricane I’ve been through. I ‘m a tough old bird.  It’ll take more than a little wind and rain to run me off.”  Yeah, get to writin’ on yourself, Dude.   See you on the other side.   His wife had even evacuated.  I think he’s a selfish jerk for making her go through the loss of her husband just because he’s stubborn and thinks he’s tough.  (Sorry to call you a jerk old man, but now that you are dead, don’t you kinda wish you had gone with your wife?)

How about the family who chose, at first, not to leave and then waited too late and their 3-year-old died just before they left?  They should be shot.  By Dick Cheney.   There’s a special place in Hell for people like that.

Even if the worst thing that happens to you is that you lose electricity for two weeks, I certainly think it was worth it to those who left, just to feel safe and secure.  I can tell you this…if there was a mandatory evacuation order in effect for North Dallas, you can bet your sweet ass I’d be headed to Jokelahoma within minutes.  And if I was, for some reason, stupid enough to stick around at first, I would certainly haul ass the second the cops showed up with the Sharpie, asking me to write on myself so they can identify my body.  That ain’t gonna happen. 

Here’s to staying alive!

Holly

Our intention was to totally freak out on Ikea and all that it is.  But, my internet is about to go down.  So hands up everybody!  Fuck Ikea!