Am I Really Thanking the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Anniversary Issue for Raising the Bar…to Outer Space?

Where they come from.

Where they come from.


I feel comfortable in my own skin. Just like every other human being in the world, there things I like about my appearance, and things I’m not so crazy about. Oh sure, I have my bad hair days, bloated jeans days, and the “Did a crow land on my face while I was sleeping?” days; but overall, I feel pretty decent.

Until the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue landed in our mailbox last week.

One look at that magazine and I sent a letter to my rear end letting it know it was dead to me.

Who the hell are these women? Did you see Christie Brinkley? Her legs?? She is sixty and looks better than most nineteen year olds.

I imagine if I took Wonder Woman’s invisible jet back to her Amazonian homeland, this is where the models are bred.

US Magazine has a section titled, Stars – They Are Just Like Us! It shows movie stars and models doing everyday things.

Let me clue you in US – no, they are not like us. These chicks are nothing like us regular people. They are superhuman. Or perhaps alien.

I’ll be honest, I cannot help but stare. These women are amazing. I’m not even jealous, just in awe. It is like looking at a painting in a museum. If that painting had perky nipples.


The release of this SI issue got my wheels turning: What does it take to create a model?

Here’s what I’ve come up with:

1)      Parental Diet. I think we need to take a closer look at the creators of the catwalkers. Did the mother only ingest Jamba Juice and Elle magazines while pregnant? Did they go to a sperm bank and ask for the Superman Special?

2)      Model Insides. If we take a peek inside a model, will we find a bunch of that Wolverine mercury and some random parts from a Chevy Nova? There is no way those girls have normal spleens like the rest of us. There are probably a bunch of miniature British and Swedish inventors in there running things in tip top shape. Plus, the Swedes always have the best FDA un-approved drugs.

3)      Real Boobs. I’m pretty sure those things are real. This only makes things worse. Some might say it is because the models are so young. I don’t buy that. Even when I was sixteen my boobs were never that cheerful.

4)      Can We Create a Hybrid? Seriously, why not? If we took a model’s egg, and then took sperm from a nuclear physicist, and then trained the offspring in MMA combat techniques we would have the ultimate secret weapon. We could Trojan Horse all kinds of world issues. No one suspects a hot chick.

5)      None of the above – They were just born that way. This is probably the truth. Damn.

What I felt like after reading the SI issue.

What I felt like after reading the SI issue.



However these long-legged beauties came to roam the land among us plain folks, one thing I will not do is knock them down. So they are gorgeous? So we can’t stop staring at them? So what? No need to talk crap about them and be catty. Plus, I couldn’t knock them down if I tried, they are far too tall for me.

These ladies (and men) might have a superhuman body structure, but I bet their feelings are not indestructible. They have a gift. And guess what? So do we. Minus the tight butt and pouty lips.

So while the supermodels of the world have raised the beauty bar for us regular folks, this doesn’t give anyone a free pass to stoop low with nasty comments.

Unless, of course, you are doing the limbo under that bar. It’s what us short ladies will be doing.


Am I Really Bidding $800 for a Set of BBQ Sauces?



Auctions.  These events are like skydiving – a rush of exhilaration, joy, and pocket emptying.

This past weekend we attended our daughter’s school auction. It was a beautiful affair. People were dolled up, alumnus came back to their old alma mater, and everyone got buzzed and nutty over a blanket made out of t-shirts.

I have only been to a few of these shin-digs, however, I have noticed two things: 1) You need to go into the event with a plan and budget; and 2) People lose their marbles at these events. Myself included.

Out of all the wonderful auction items, I had my heart set on only one thing. Even now, thinking about how special this item is and what it means to my daughter and my family, makes me tear up.

I had my eye on the prize, and I won it. A two-fer. I helped out a great school and obtained something with tremendous meaning for my child.

Here’s how I did it, illustrated a la marble count:

1)      PLAN – Talk to husband and decide on a budget together. We were not going over X amount of dollars.

RESULT – I ignored the budget and went rogue. MARBLE LOSS: 10

2)      PLAN – Act like a lady and raise my bidder number.

RESULT – Stood on chair with high heels screaming. MARBLE LOSS: 5

3)      PLAN – Clap and smile if win item or shrug it off if bid was too high

RESULT – Did the cabbage patch dance when won item. MARBLE LOSS: 25

While I did act silly during the bidding and probably ended up with -15 marbles, isn’t that what it’s all about? Having fun and raising money for good cause/good school?

Apparently not.

While most attendees either didn’t care who won what, or were happy people were bidding and helping out the school, a number of people reacted in an odd way (more marble loss).

After winning the item, some people felt it necessary to bequeath my husband and me with bizarre questions and comments such as: “What are you going to do with _____?” Or, “Wow, you sure did spend a lot. Must be nice.” Or one of my favorites, No dialogue – Insert glaring at us up and down, then turning away in disgust.

I’ll be honest, the cattiness really bummed me out. These are parents from our child’s school, our community, our church. These are people I look to in times of need, both for my family and my child, and I the same for them. This is our village of role models for my young daughter.

I couldn’t understand it. Were people upset if they did not win the item? Were they concerned we would not use the item in the proper way? Did they think we had a secret money tree in our backyard, supplying us with endless funds so that we could nap all day?        

Nope, no tree. But my husband and I did have a “spirited” conversation on the ride home about what we spent.

Whether we won or lost the item, or rolling in the dough or not, who cares?

What I looked like after the live auction.

What I looked like after the live auction.


If there is one thing this life has taught me, it’s that you can’t control how people act, treat you, or feel about you. You can’t stop living your life, or curb being who you are because of it. And while yes, snide comments hurt, it’s really not worth the time to try and change someone’s opinion of you. Because it won’t.

Bottom line: It’s your life, no one else’s.

I will always be that short, loud, crazy lady in the back of the room raising my flag and having a good time. It’s who I am.

So the next time someone says to me, “Wow! Can’t believe you did that. What are you going to do with it?”

I’ll say, “Anything I damn well please.”

They’re my marbles anyway.

Am I Really Telling Jane Seymour to Cut the Crap?

Nothing says love like this hamster with a rose in its hair.

Nothing says love like this hamster with a rose in its hair.

The day for lovers is upon us. Or more aptly, the day for chalky candy and all things pink. I don’t think this is what St. Valentine had envisioned when he married so many star-crossed lovers. And was then imprisoned for it.

This time of year we are bombarded by a bazillion jewelry commercials. People are hugging and kissing and wearing collared shirts. Kay Jewelers takes the cake with the “Every Kiss Begins With Kay” signature line. Even the lovely and talented Jane Seymour has her Open Hearts Collection.

While I do really like Ms. Seymour and her design (it is pretty, but knowing me, her open heart would catch on my sweater, creating an open holes collection), her jewelry line seems to be a bit discriminatory.

It got me thinking. There really should be more practical jewelry collections for the everyday person.

Let’s take a look:

1)      The No I’m Not Engaged Yet Grandma, So Quit Asking Collection. It might not be your grandmother doing the nagging. Maybe it’s your mom, or crazy Aunt Gemma who’s always badgering you about your love life. If you wear this necklace, the questions will stop. CHARM: A hand with no rings.

2)      The It’s Your Turn Collection. This one can be used like a hotel Do Not Disturb sign. It is applicable to anything; changing diapers, answering the door, getting up from the table to get more ketchup. CHARM: A finger pointing.

3)      The Sorry, I Just Farted in the Bed Collection. Anyone who has been in a long term relationship gets this. It is real. It happens. Don’t pretend it doesn’t. CHARM: A cloud.

4)      The Ooops! I Just Spent Too Much at Target, But Look at These Awesome Snow Owls Collection. This one you give as a peace offering. CHARM: A melting dollar sign.

5)      The Aw Man! I Totally Spaced About V-Day, So All I Got You Was This Bag of Werther’s Original Candies Collection. This is also a very real thing. I am guessing at least 3 out of 5 dudes will go through this come February 14th. If you are in a new relationship, you’re screwed buddy. Refer to collection #4 to make it up to her. CHARM: A guy shrugging. A guy saying sorry. A bong.

No. Just no.

No. Just no.

6)      The Am I the Only One Who Does Anything Around Here? Collection. Everyone has felt like this toward their special someone at some point. Why not make it official with a charm? CHARM: A gold embossed business card for Molly Maids.

7)      The We Just Started Dating, So I’m Ignoring that You Ate Onions for Lunch While I Mouth Kiss You Collection. Ah, new love. In the beginning we are so forgiving, we look past so much. Like the fact he only takes you out to Jay Jay’s Shuck and Dive and makes you buy the pitchers of beer because, “Oh man, I only have a ten.” Or that she is always texting and tweeting during dinner, accompanied by constant giggling, gasping, and, “No Way-ing!” CHARM: A voice box of your mother saying, “I told you so.”

8)      The Well, I’m Already in Bed and I Just Put on Hand Lotion So, Can We Do It Tomorrow? Collection. This is for the people who have been together a while. A long while. I hate to admit this, but while I used to be spontaneous and fun, sometimes I just want to fall asleep watching the weather report. CHARM: A letter to all twentysomethings saying, “Yes, this will one day happen to you. Also, wash your face before you pass out, you’ll thank me later.”

9)      The Uh Oh. Looks Like We Did It on the First Date So…Um…I Guess I’ll Go…But I’ll Call You Tomorrow Collection. This one is self-explanatory. CHARM: A telephone number, missing three digits.

10)  The No, We Are Not Having Any More Kids Collection. This is for the couple who just got married, as well as those who already have kids. I am not sure why family, friends, and strangers are so concerned about us churning out more humans, but this necklace might help. CHARM: A lady crossing her legs.

11)  All of the above. It can be like a Pandora bracelet, except way more ghetto.

So this Valentine’s Day, give the gift of lasting love. If you can live with the good, the boring, the forgetful, the smelly, the rude, and the forgiving, then that is worth celebrating. That’s real love.

Unless your form of affection comes via a hot pink stuffed dragon holding a box of really bad chocolates. Then Godspeed my friend.

So much romance! So much mystery! All stamped on candies that taste like Pepto tablets.

So much romance! So much mystery! All stamped on candies that taste like Pepto tablets.


Am I Really Begging Hollywood to Show a Real Family Morning?

Who are these people? Are they Dutch?

Who are these people? Are they Dutch?

Sunlight filters in through a window over a kitchen sink. Smiling and well-groomed faces sit around a clean and beautifully laid out breakfast bar. Fresh fruit, a decanter of orange juice, whole grain toast, and cloth napkins adorn the table. A father enjoys his mug of coffee while reading the newspaper. A mother, wearing a pressed shirt and slacks, lip gloss, and neatly combed hair, flips another round of fluffy pancakes onto a plate. As she places the stack onto the table for her bright-eyed children she announces is a cheery voice, “Okay kids, almost time for school. We don’t want to be late.”

This scene makes me wonder: Who the hell are these people?

I have yet to have a morning so awake, so put together, so relaxed. I am pretty sure most parents out there will agree. It is tiresome to watch movies and television shows portray the above ridiculously off the mark family morning. The sun does not shine at 5:45 in the a.m. people. Why pretend that it does? Is it to save on lighting?

In order to be of some service to the motion picture industry, I thought I would depict a more realistic picture of what a school/work day morning looks like:

6:15a.m. – The alarm goes off. I smack it like a dirty fly. Thank God for the snooze button.

6:38a.m. – I jump out of bed. Crap! I snoozed too long. I am probably confused and think it is 11:30 p.m. because it’s still dark outside. What a bullsh*t trick.

6:43a.m. – I wash my face and brush my teeth. I do this with cold water so I wake up. Actually, the hot water has not had time to heat up yet, so I really don’t have a choice.  There is absolutely no make-up involved. Nor a brush. I do rustle up an old sweater and throw it on over my pjs.

6:48a.m. – Still dark. I nudge our old dog to go outside and do her business. She looks at me clearly confused by the dark morning. She lies down and falls asleep on the patio. She does not pee.

This lady looks ten times better than me in the morning.

This lady looks ten times better than I do in the morning.

6:49a.m. – I pre-set the coffee maker (thank you Jesus), so I guzzle as much coffee, water, and juice as I can while watching the news. House fire, police chase, rain. Extremely uplifting. I make breakfast and lunch for my child. I drink more coffee. I am now ready to wake the beast.

6:55a.m. – I tip toe into my daughter’s room, turn off the night light, give her a kiss, and say, “It’s time to wake up.” She ignores me. I try again to wake her. Success! She welcomes the day with a, “No! Leave me alone!” I open the binds, which does nothing since it is all black outside. I turn on the bathroom light and try to coax her out of bed with, “It’s library day.” This also does nothing.

7:04 a.m. – A disgruntled seven year old sits at the table in her Hello Kitty pjs. Her hair looks as if she attended a Grateful Dead concert…in a tornado. As she licks the Nutella off her toast she glares at me and lets me know that I have ruined her day because I interrupted her sleep. Awesome. I drink more coffee, fill the dog bowls with food and water, empty the dishwasher, and turn up the volume on the TV to drown out her moaning. Oh good, it’s Matt Lauer on the Today Show. He is talking about a car bombing and a mall shooting. Also, it is still dark outside.

7:22 a.m. – I clean up the kitchen and cattle prod my child into her room to get ready. I go to the bathroom and quickly throw on some clothes. Again, there is absolutely no hair brushing involved.

7:35 a.m. – It is time to leave for school. I find my daughter in her room wearing only a shirt and underpants.  Apparently she has been busy reading a book while dressing her pink bear in a purple sundress. I say in a calm voice to my child, “What are you doing? We are going to be late!!!! We are leaving in one minute!” My yelling wakes the neighbor’s dog.

Our dog sleeps peacefully outside. In the dark.

7:42 a.m. – We let in our dog and head out to the car. Dawn has finally broken, so we do not need flashlights to see where we are going.

7:44 a.m. – My husband is still asleep in bed.

The only people I know who have on pressed clothing and make up at that time of day are the working parents and teachers. I’m pretty sure even they would not brush their teeth if they did not have to.

So Dear Hollywood: I am begging you, for once show a frantic parent losing their sh*t in the a.m. because their kids are refusing to put on socks.

I don't even know what's happening here. Someone is going to spill that coffee.

I don’t even know what’s happening here. Someone is going to spill that coffee.

I know, it is not as sexy as a fake mom making French toast for her clean kids, but at least it’s real.

All the early morning un-caffeinated parents will thank you.