Happy Halloween

Here's hoping you don't go out on Halloween and make a complete ASS of yourself.

Have a great Halloween and a great weekend bloggers!!!

I'm Too Old For This Crap

Saturday night, being All Hallows Eve, marks the American tradition of dressing in costume and commencement of the tricks for treats. Being the mother of a teen-aged girl and boy means that my trick or treat responsibilities have changed from escorting the festivities to chaperoning the festivities. There will be no trick or treating on the streets of my sleepy little town for my kids. They tell me that they are too old and waaay too cool for that. It's now house parties on the streets of my sleepy little town. This year, the parents got together and decided that the Halloween party would be held in our small, historical town tavern, which we rented out for Saturday night.

We meticulously put together a nutritious menu of pizza, pretzels, chips, cookies, soda and candy for the shindig. There is a group of us, with spouses and significant others, that will be on hand to chaperon the evening. Truth be told, we are planning on having a better time than the kids. We've got music, goodies for the kids and plenty of alcohol for the adults, which we will discretely hide from the kids. We decided that the teens would be best served if we incorporated a philanthropic spirit, and made it mandatory to bring a canned good or non-perishable food item to benefit the town food pantry for the elderly as their admission to the party. We are expecting a few hundred kids. Good times.

But of course, there is a slight hitch, witch effects me personally. At our organizational meeting last night, I was informed that since we made costumes mandatory for the kids, that the adults must come in costume too.

UGGH! Are you kidding me?? I'm too old for this crap. Really.

I have no more desire to show up in costume, than I do to get a Barium Enema. Can't I just write a check or something??? (sorry, did I just write that out loud?)

I was wracking my brain last night trying to figure out how I could get dressed up in costume without really getting dressed up in costume. The best I could come up with is I would dress as a hippie/flower child wearing my tye dye shirt that has big bell sleeves and put a peace sign headband around my forehead.

Lame, I know.

So I ask you today to give me some suggestions for a costume that allows me to be dressed up without really being dressed up. Be creative, but the goal here is to not put much effort into the actual costume, and a no-effort costume idea for me and My Guy would be acceptable too.

Give me your best bloggers, because you are just about the smartest people I know!! And thanks.

Necessary Torture

I know it's something I have to do every year. I know how essential it is to my health. I know how important it is for the early detection of a horrible disease. But seriously??? OUCH!!

Today is my day for the yearly mammogram and I dread it every year. The twins DO NOT like the torture. See that photo above? That plastic level flattens out boobie 1 like a pancake, which results in the most uncomfortable pinching and numbing pain sensation which you must hold for what seems like an eternity. Then they tell you not to breathe!!! If that's not bad enough, the nurse then comes over, bless her little soul, and grabs boobie 2 to position it perfectly for it's own special Kodak moment.

I'm just sayin', I've never been the kind of girl who likes to be consentually "felt up" by a stranger. I prefer a little wining and dining, coupled with some intellectual conversation in the form of foreplay, but make no mistake, there is no "play" here. I wouldn't condemn the process, as yearly mammography saves lives. I'm just anticipating the degrading, painful torture that is essential for me to be a healthy adult.

And I'm really lucky.

And, (knock on wood) I'm pretty healthy.

And I live in a country where it is socially pertinent to screen for breast cancer yearly. Heck, we even have our own month and color to help us to remember.

And I have a sister who is a survivor.

And I thank god every day for the gift of her cancer-free self.

And I will submit the twins to the torture, secure in the knowledge that greater women have stood there before me and did what had to be done.

So what if I have to spend the rest of today walking around like this: I'll take the odds on the necessary torture.

Things Are Getting Weird Around Here

So I woke up at 4am this morning and I couldn't get back to sleep. Why? Cuz I'm thinking about Roman Polanski. So weird, I know.

I can't quite figure out why I'm thinking about this guy, but I am. It's not like his story of extradition has been headline news recently. That story has to be at least 2 or 3 weeks old, but there it is; keeping me awake. Weird.

Seems Roman, pled guilty in 1977 to having sex with a minor, a 13 year-old girl, who he allegedly drugged with quaaludes and Champagne then had sex with at a party at Jack's house (of all places) in LA. On the eve of his 1978 sentencing he fled the country because he was afraid of being put away for 50 years. He has been in France ever since. On Sept 26th, 2009, he was arrested, at the request of the United States, as he flew into Switzerland to receive a lifetime achievement award at a film festival.

What's even weirder is that I really have no opinion on this, yet I'm thinking about it in the dark and quiet of 4 am.

Well, maybe I do. I'm thinking that this Polanski guy is somewhat of a tragic figure and a bit of a coward to boot. I'm thinking that you can't run away from your demons without facing them and that eventually they will come back to haunt you. Even when you're in you're 70's and still directing Oscar winning movies and getting lifetime achievement awards. You know dude, don't do the crime if you can't do the time. And I'm thinking about the brutal murder of his beautiful, pregnant wife, Sharon Tate by a bunch of worthless, brainwashed, drug-crazed hippies. Maybe the rape wouldn't have happened if Sharon Tate had lived to give birth to the Polanski child. They say she was the love of his life and that he worshiped her. Maybe, but it doesn't mitigate his actions at Jack's house in '77.

There's a story in yesterday's LA Times that reports that Polanski's victim, Samantha Geimer, now 46 years old, and her attorney have asked the appellate court to drop the charges against Polaski because "the unceasing publicity has disrupted her family, job and health." Seems Samantha's boss in "understandably displeased" with her and there is a real possibility that she may loose her job.

Picture this: Rich director messes up, runs away, gets away with it, and keeps winning Oscars while living large in France for years and years. Yet the victim gets the shaft back home because the LA crime fighters, who let him slip away, decide to finally grab this brass ring, some thirty years later. Hollywood couldn't produce a better script. Maybe Polanski should direct it. He could possibly win another Oscar for his efforts, heck, he's doing whatever he wants anyway.

Or maybe we should just tack another life sentence onto Manson's sentence. It's his fault anyway.

Defeat The Undefeated

Maybe it's just me.

There are now three teams left in the NFL that are still undefeated and I want them to go down HARD.

As I said, maybe it's just me.

Because I want MY team to be the only one of two teams to have ever completed an undefeated regular season. I watched Favre and the Minnesota Vikings go down to Pittsburgh yesterday with relish! I watched a fantastic football game between Miami and New Orleans and almost got my wish...almost. But the freaking Dolphins choked in the end. Now I am out for blood.

My rally cry, "Defeat the undefeated!!" Down with Indy, Denver and New Orleans.

Kill the dream. Please. Is that so wrong??

Caption Crap

"Oh Shit........"

Since you loved last week's photo I thought this one would just make your day. Or make you hurl. Offensive, for sure, but have at it anyway; caption away.

Keep Your Fingers Crossed

Today is my big day at the store.

It marks the start of our 3 day Grand Opening Celebration! I hope to GOD it works out for us. We sent out over 1500 mailers, an eblast and an advertising campaign in the local papers for what we are hoping will be a sales blow out.

We have been working hard all week preparing the store and planning all the events. We have trunk shows, and reps from my skin care lines, activities (a bingo card promotion) and specialists coming in to offer our clients the most personalized care. We are also offering....wait for it......20% off all merchandise!!!! Store wide!!!

I have been remiss in my blogging duties this week, so forgive me. Lets hope that all this work pays off and translates into big sales days.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Hog Wild

The kids are getting vaccinated today.

Sorry, I just couldn't resist. He's sooo cute.

What's For Dinner?

Beyonce once said in an interview, "What I do isn't hard. It's the women who work all day and have to come home and make dinner. That's a hard job."

Amen sister. You have a fan forever.

Last night I arrive home at 5:30, to the chorus of, "What's for dinner? What's for dinner?"
Not, Hi mom. How was your day?
No. It's all about, "I'm starving." Forget that I was crazy busy all day, now I'm scrambling to whip up some gourmet cuisine for their consumption. And quick too cuz they're starving.

Usually I start thinking about dinner some time after they leave for school. I mull about this or that so I have an idea about which direction dinner is headed, taking into account everyone daily schedules and such. But yesterday was a busy day and I had not a moment to put dinner to my head, hence the 5:30 scramble. I knew on the drive home that I had chicken, but which direction would it take tonite?? So My Guy is set to arrive home at 6:30, the kids are already home and harping on me for sustenance, so I've got almost one hour to prepare dinner. PANIC. I had nothing planned.

In my pantry I find the little baby above, and decide that 30 minutes with this sucker could actually work. Heck, I might even get off easy tonite. I've already got chicken in the fridge, so this is it. Now I need to interject for a moment and tell you that I am not the kind of "prepared food" mom. I am a great cook and I like to plan and prepare a proper dinner, when the time allows. But-ALL 3 of them are freakin picky eaters. Wolfgang Puck could prepare our dinner and at least one of them would complain because there was something in it they didn't like. So I'm already screwed before I have even begun. Still, I forge ahead with this hotmess above.

Much to my dismay, the fresh chicken in the fridge was not needed because the two cans of "chicken shit" that I called it, in the box were complete with some form of chicken and ready to be opened then poured into a baking dish. The guilt began to gnaw away at me immediately. Then the biscuit topping which was easy enough; nine equal drops on top of the "chicken shit" mix and pop into the oven at 400 for 30 minutes. I made some mashed potatoes and worried about the fallout on this one. I figured I'd market it as Chicken Pot Pie only better because of the flaky biscuits. 30 minutes later, everyone sits at the table. It looked pretty good, I have to say, so they approached this one with a slight curiosity.

I took my first bite.....UGH, gross, but I sat there in silence waiting for the inevitable disaster. "Not bad," is what Picky Eater 1 said.
"Mom, this is really good," said Picky Eater 2.
Picky Eater 3 seemed happy and even had seconds....

I can't figure them out.
I kill myself with a fabulous meal most of the time and they complain, but when I serve them shit-literally-they fricken love it and I'm a hero.

I'm just going to throw in the towel here and know when I'm defeated.
Tonite......it's Shake and Bake.

Mute Monday: Author

Click here for more Mute Monday

Whoa! Caption That.

"No really, I'm a size 6."

Let's caption away at this one.

Touch Me And You Die

Is there a secret society out there that gives membership to those whose lifework it is to torture and torment one's sibling?? Did I miss the memo about membership fees being overdue, because evidently my kids didn't miss it. I can pretty much tell that they are both members in excellent standing.

It wasn't that long ago that I was a kid too (really) and I remember the relish with which my brother tormented me. Fortunately my years of shock therapy and intensive psychoanalysis have all but wiped away those memories, allowing me to be the somewhat normal adult I am today. Is it a genetic thing or is it a birth order thing? Are some kids just plain rotten, or are they just plain rotten to their siblings? If my kids were bananas, I would have to say that as of late, they are turning black, with more than a few soft spots between them. And I don't mean the good kind of soft. I mean the indication that the fruit is rotten, SPOILED. (now maybe we are getting somewhere)

The oldest, the director, has to answer to the chairman of the board (me), so she knows when to pour on the poly-saccharine sweetener substitute to satisfy my needs. Her direct subordinate, waits to check the daily climate then proceeds with extreme caution. And since his direct superior is a teen aged girl, life certainly is a box of chocolates for him, as he never knows what he's going to get. Neither do we, for that matter.

And when did physical violence become the standard solution to any disagreement? I have never hit my children in anger or otherwise, so where did they learn to slap up side the head with such fervor? Punishments are becoming obsolete, as they only serve to create more tension and anger towards each other. But I continue to try, employing a Geneva Convention for direct problem solving against such war crimes. Torment and no mercy are the only constants.

Today, I am withdrawing my application for consideration of the Nobel Peace Prize, as my efforts to create a harmonious shift in a peaceful household climate have proved to be futile.

I understand that these days, they are awarding those to just anybody, anyway.

NOT A Lame Excuse For A Post

I was having a discussion yesterday with some of my intellectual contemporaries about the meaning of the age old question, "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"

It was a spirited debate which touched on the discussion of the theory of evolution, religious themes and theology, and at one point, I felt like I got to know each one of the participants in the discussion a bit better. Some of the shit people came up with was just plain funny and some quite thought provoking.

So I decided to continue on with this conundrum in this forum today. Let's see what we can learn about each other. Let's throw it up against the wall and see what sticks.

I pose the question to you bloggers, "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"

Breaking Hot Hollywood News

Mindless fodder for a Tuesday.

Justin Timberlake and Rihanna??? What's up with that? Sounds like a disaster about to strike. Mr. Timberlake dumped smokin hot Jessica Biel and now it would seem he's hooking up where ever and whenever he wants. Who's next? Jessica Simpson? You know he's thinking, "I'd tap that."

Khloe Kardashian's multi-million dollar wedding (paid for and filmed by E and Ryan Seacrest productions) to a multi-millionaire basketball star who gave her a multi-carat diamond to seal the deal after their NOT multi-days of a whirlwind courtship. What's the Vegas over/under on that marriage lasting six months? The naysayers have their opinion.

John and Kate-just proves that some people just don't get it. But if you're John, you got all $250,000.00 of it from the bank. That is deadbeat debauchery at it's finest. I predict jail as the next of John's bachelor antics. That should keep his name in the headlines for a while.

Christy Brinkley and Peter Cook take their ugly divorce battle back to court. Ewww. I can completely sympathise with Christy here. It is absolutely mind-blowing to wake up one day and have the rug pulled out from under you. Realizing that the man you loved and trusted is nothing more than a pathological liar with a fervor for on-line porn is devastating. To make matters worse, all your business is out there in the tabloids for the world to see and read. Cook taped an interview with Barbara Walters to air on 20/20 Friday night. WHY?

Because he hopes "the world will see that I'm not the scumbag pervert that I've been painted to be."

Seems to me he's the only one holding a wet paintbrush.

Brangelina's twins come out of hiding. And this is news?? If I were them I would keep my kids out of the public eye till they were 21. I'm on the Brad and Angie side here. Protect the innocent and parade the other 10 kids around for the paparazzi.

Chris Evert and Greg Norman. Sadly, it didn't last. After 15 months of marriage the pair have called it quits. Seems they each left their spouses for each other in 2006, but couldn't make a go of it. The kids just weren't having ANY of it and they made their newlywed love nest a living hell. Such a shame. This could be proof that more than one large, over inflated ego can't survive under the same roof.

Heidi Klum and Seal welcome baby number 4, a girl! I've got nothing cynical to say here, no snide remark. I hope Heidi and Seal are the exception in Hollywood. Maybe they have it figured out. Kudos to them.

It all comes down to this:

Sometimes reading this crap makes you realize that truly, the grass may look greener on the other side of the fence, but that green grass you may covet, has been shit on too. And by much bigger dogs.

There's Not Much Else To Say

Except that the fat lady just sung an aria,
the fork has been properly stuck in the Sox,
hasta la vista, baby, and don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Toast. Burned toast.
And to think, I paid to witness that travesty.
The Nation mourns today...

On The Flip Side

There are two sides to every story.
Yesterday I wrote about the horrors that some teens are capable of.
Today I'm sharing the flip side of that story.

Maybe it was fate, karma or whatever you want to call it, but when I got this in my email today, I knew I had to share it with you.

There is a huge rock near a gravel pit on Hwy 25 in rural Iowa. For generations, kids have painted slogans, names, and obscenities on this rock, changing its character many times.

A few months back, the rock received its latest paint job, and since then it has been left completely undisturbed. It's quite an impressive sight. Be sure to scroll down and check out the multiple photos. (all angles) of the rock. I thought the flag was draped over the rock, but it's not. It's actually painted on the rock too.

Here's the artist: Ray ' Bubba ' Sorensen.

Congrats Bubba. You have redeemed my faith in teens.

Could The Signs Have Been There All Along?

There's been a story in the news for the past few days and I can't seem to get it out of my head. I guess it hits a little too close to home for my comfort. In the simple little town of Mont Vernon, New Hampshire, a 42 year-old mom and nurse was slain savagely by teens with a machete, her 11 year-old daughter's throat slashed and leg broken, all because they just so happened to be at home. They were victims of a random attack by a group of teens who made a pact to commit murder at a home they chose at random. You can read the story here, or I'll do my best to give you a brief re-cap of this horrific crime.

Four male teens, ages 17-19, alleged "skinheads", decided they wanted to go on a thrill kill. They chose a home at random and agreed to kill anyone who was in the home. Unfortunately for 42 year-old Kimberly Lynn Cates and her 11 year-old daughter Jaimie, whose husband was out of town on business, the teens chose their home. Authorities report that Kimberly, who was slain as she lay in her bed, never had a chance as her precious daughter's throat was slashed and left for dead. Jaimie, somehow managed to call 911 and survive the attack. Today she is in critical condition at the local hospital.

This one sent chills down my spine. I decided to talk to my kids about this crime, not to scare them, by any means, but to make them aware of the possible signs of teens and "anti-social" behavior. Yes, these teens were labeled "skinheads", all with close shaven scalps. They were labeled, "troubled", and the picture of Steven Spader, 17, Christopher Gribble, 19, William Marks, 18 and Quinn Glover, 17, twists ever so curiously. But how do you really ever know what these troubled kids are capable of? And the question begs to be asked, how do you prevent it?

The alleged ring leader, Spader, is a 17 year-old drop out who friends say had no fear. An 18 year-old who graduated from the same high school Spader once attended said anonymously:

“Because when you see a kid who looks like he has no fear, you become afraid. (Spader) said whatever he wanted to anybody. He didn’t care what the principal said. They’d tell him go to class. He wouldn’t. They’d suspend him. He didn’t care. Authority was nothing to him.”

So I ask you, was this a walking time bomb ticking? What are we, as a society, to do about something we have virtually no control over? Can we forsee, predict or better yet, prevent a senseless tragedy by looking out for the signs? Do we lock up all the goths or skinheads to protect ourselves, simply because a few deranged and evil apples spoiled it for the rest of them? I wonder. This is certainly not the first time teens have gone on a thrill kill mission, nor will it be the last, but for some reason, this one hit me like a ton of bricks.

Maybe because it could have been me. And it could have been you, or a loved one or a cherished friend.

Gone forever just for the thrill of it.

Today's Special: Cheap Laughs

Sorry to "cheap out" on you two days in a row with a short post, but I am embarking on a new exercise regimen this morning and need to focus because in "shape" is not a adjective I would use to describe myself at this moment. Lord help me.

Anyway, My Guy is away on bizness in the great city of Philly. He went to the Flyers game last night and told me that he saw no less than a dozen people wearing these around the city.

Gotta love a city with a sense of humor.

Lindsey Has Reached A New Lo-han

They say laugh at your self and the world laughs with you.

Yeah Linds, were laughing alright.

Lindsay Lohan's eHarmony Profile from Lindsay Lohan

Proud To Be Pink

The NFL went pink yesterday, and nothing could have been more masculine. In a bid to promote October as breast cancer awareness month, each NFL team showcased it's breast cancer awareness pride by wearing pink on the fields.

A classy move by the NFL, no doubt. Players were sporting pink in all kinds of places yesterday; pink arm bands, pink cleats, pink gloves, pink rimmed hats, pink towels and hot pink breast cancer ribbons which were abound yesterday on the gridirons all over this country. Even the referee's, the black and white judges of the game, joined in the wearing of the pink. For something that looked so out of place to be as perfect as it was, was truly a great feat. At first glance, one might have thought, "Is Tom Brady really wearing pink cleats?" "Does Randy Moss have on hot pink gloves?" After the mind does a complete double take, one realizes that it's all to promote awareness for a worthy cause.

And how well the pink played out on the fields yesterday. Splattered here and there, it popped in silent tribute to the warriors who battle this terrible disease. And for an afternoon, I was constantly reminded what the wearing of the pink meant. I say, what a classy way to show support for the mothers, sisters, daughters, wives and friends who have been touched by breast cancer.

According to The New York Times, the pink cleats idea began with Carolina's DeAngelo Williams, whose mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004. Her three sisters died from the disease.

"Her detecting it early was the reason she was able to pull through it,” Williams said.

To me there's nothing sexier than a man who proudly wears pink.

You had to know I couldn't get through an entire football post without a picture of THE TOMMY now, didn't ya?

I Could Think Of Better Things To Do In My Car

It's certainly no secret that I LOVE make-up. I write about it, I sell it, I touch, feel and work with it every day. It has somehow become my life's work as I understand make-up and it understands me. But something I can't understand is how a woman can put her make-up on while driving/operating her car.

Let's put aside for a moment the fact that the BILLION dollar a year cosmetic industry, most definitely, never intended the user to flippantly apply her make-up in a short period of time, like during the operation of a motor vehicle. Let's talk first about the hazard that is make-up application during the drive. It is the the epitome of stupidity, second only to drunk driving and texting behind the wheel. As a make-up professional, it is my duty to educate my clients in the technique of expert make-up application, something that is, at best, the right of any consumer buying product. There are certain steps involved in the process, some integral to the finished product, some not.

These steps take time and concentration, and cannot, I repeat, cannot be completed in the few minutes at a red light or peripherally done while driving on a patch of straight road. It's just a fact. Plain and simple. Have we become a society that is so harried and hurried with jam packed schedules that we put our own safety and the safety of others on the road in question to save 15 minutes of time? Has it really come down to that? Or are these violators complete friggin morons? I'm betting on the latter.

Yet, I see it all the time. And it completely infuriates me. This coming from a make-up pusher, dealer, and addict, albeit a responsible one. I will admit to pulling out my lip gloss at a red light, opening it up, swiping the applicator across my lips and then returning it to my purse. A process that takes an entire 5 seconds, while my car is still at a complete stop and then some. But to think I could apply eye liner or mascara, something that would require my full focal attention while driving amounts to nothing more than a pompous assumption that "Super Woman" is capable of multi-tasking to the highest degree.

And how many of these drive-by make-upper's have caused major accidents or worse vehicular homicides because of their poor choices or time management skills? I think the answer would surprise us all. Yesterday, President Obama signed an initiative that would make texting behind the wheel illegal simply because it is an activity that requires focal attention. Is make-up application behind the wheel next? I certainly hope so.

As a make-er-upper, I give you permission to "flip off" the next violator you see with blatant disregard for the simple rules of the road. Let her know she's an idiot who's putting us all at risk for the purpose of beauty. Because really, she's ugly and no amount of mascara or eyeliner, applied hurriedly is going to fix that.

I could think of better things to do in my car. Like drive.

Just Say No To Nookie

Tufts University, in Medford, MA, just two days ago, added a rule to their student handbook banning students from engaging in "the sex act" in their dorm rooms while their roommate is present. Seems officials at the college have been fielding complaints about sexual promiscuity during "lights out" time from students for a while, so they decided to take action. The issue has been hotly contested and analyzed on every newpaper and talk radio station in Boston.

Opponents say it is a direct violation of a students constitutional rights of freedom, while proponents say, it's time has come. With my own undergraduate dorm days long behind me, I can't say I haven't dealt with this one before on a personal level. Without saying whether I was the violator or the victim, I'll just say that since the dormroom was invented, this issue has been played out in almost every scenario.

Let's take, for example, it's components; young, good looking (for the most part) hormonally fueled 18-21 year-olds, away from home for the first time in their lives, enjoying the fruits of their new found freedom. Can you say sex and drugs and rock and roll?? Hell yes!! And if the sex is free, it's good for the taking. Some believe they are not one's to starve at a banquet, so when the opportunity presents itself, they must dine as if the Apocalypse is fast approaching. Everything and everyone else is considered collateral damage. Others believe that some consideration is in order or possibly a mutually agreed upon sign, that things are gettin' jiggy up in here, and to check back later. *wink, wink*. I'd have to agree with the latter.

Really, how hard is it to find some privacy in college?? Not very. And if you want it bad enough and don't care who sees you, what's to stop you from going for it under some shady tree? And once you add drugs and alcohol into the mix, you usually end up with all bets off the table when it comes to dorm rooms. Then add one pompous and inconsiderate roommate and you've got a sticky situation, quite literally. Bravo to Tufts for giving the student body an option other than the favored f-bomb response from said roommate. I doubt that adding the rule to the handbook will halt the late night nookie in the bed next to you, but it's a start.

It gives the victim a voice when their voice is not being heard over the animalistic moaning and groaning going on over there in the dark.