Ya Vajazzling, Baby!

While I admit that Jennifer Love Hewitt brings little more than a giant forehead to the big screen, she has managed to get people talking about.....her vagina. And, specifically her vajazzle.

I am usually in-the-know about a lot of things but I have to admit, I was very much in the dark about this new phenomenon of vajazzling. It is exactly what you think it is: Swarovski crystals adorning your freshly waxed hoo-ha. Okay, so maybe THAT didn't quite jump out at you because after all, when was the last time you bejeweled your lady bits? Or even thought about this. For me? That would be never.

This confuzzles me a tad because the whole point of waxing is to have a nice smooth, clean feeling down there (or something like that.) So, replacing it with a "bling bling bush" seems a bit like it defeats the purpose. This Hewitt chick did it after some traumatic break up as a lift to her spirits. I am thinking I would pretty much be fine with a gallon of ice cream and laying on the couch. But hey, to each her own.

Okay, internets - I wanna know - have you been vajazzled? Please explain. I need to know.

Bowing Down

I am bowing down to Kristie Moore. The Olympian. The pregnant Olympian. Forget that nobody outside of Holland cares about the sport of curling, this woman is five and half months pregnant! Totally showing too. Granted, she is an alternate and probably not going to compete unless someone sprains a pinky finger while brushing or whatever it is they do in curling but still. What would that be like, "Hey Baby, when you were a mere alien in my belly, I totally won a gold medal at the Olympics." Awesome, that's what THAT would be like. As of right now, I get to tell my son, "Hey, when you were a mere alien in my belly, I won 70 extra pounds from the sitting-on-the-couch Olympics." Not that there's need to tell him, I could just show him, but I digress.

Naturally, this gets me thinking back to when I was five and half months pregnant with my son. Not only did I NOT want to be in Canada, I sure as heck was not working out to compete in the Olympics. I was like 500 pounds and the size of a house. Maybe a small condo at that point, but house was definitely right around the corner. As was evident by the bold (BOLD, not old) ass woman in Nordstrom who yelled from across the store, "Damn, girl, you look like you're about to give birth to those twins tomorrow." Please note: I did not know this woman. Also note: I was 5 months pregnant with ONE CHILD. So of course, I had to respond with my ever-so-trusty, "Oh, I'm not pregnant, just fat." I always love the look on people's faces when I pull that one out. (Take away lesson: unless a woman specifically tells you she is pregnant, don't assume it.)

I watched some curling last night and I think I'm gonna start training now. I already sweep a couple times a week anyway. I figure if I start practicing now, by my second pregnancy, I too, will be a pregnant Olympian. I am totally drawing the line at the gawd-awful plaid pants they wear though. Totally not flattering on my pregnant thighs. I have standards.

Ode to My Valentine

1200 Kids and Counting

In a rare moment of silence and not-doing-a-damn-thing-around-the-house, I am sitting on the couch watching the Duggar family's television show. If you have been living under a rock, the Duggar family has 1200, um I mean NINETEEN, children. And since this is my own personal blog and pretty much everyone is fair game, I must address...

The Good.

I commend these folks more than I condemn them. I'm not so keen on the we're-going-to-keep-having-babies-until-God-wants-us-to-stop thing but to each his own, right? These people live completely debt free (before their television show started and they only had like SEVENTEEN kids) and they built their own house. A house, I might add, that has like 200 ovens, it's own laundromat, 600 beds and what appears to be approximately 500,00o windows. Hell, I have one child and I wanna live there. Maybe just NOT in the Ozarks. (No offense to anyone living in the Ozarks who may be reading this. Oxymoron? I digress.) And while I totally don't believe everything I see on television, the kids seem fairly well adjusted. I guess. They're kinda sheltered so I guess time will tell. I have noticed that their wardrobe has improved significantly since the start of their show, kudos to TLC for that. Another good thing? Your kids would never get lonely and have their hand up your butt constantly.

The Bad.

This actually calls for bullet points:

• Having the older kid assigned to the younger kid thing? Not cool. I'm all for families helping one another but damn, what a childhood that would be. If that's all you know, I guess you don't mind. I can only imagine what would have become of me had one sibling been in charge of me.
• The dad's name is Jim Bob. And he goes by Jim Bob. Nuff said.
• Eventually, you will run out of "J" names. As it is, spelling GINGER, JINGER is kind of a stretch. I see it and immediately think, "Jinger" as in jingle, not Ginger. And really, a whole lot of other folk I know would pronounce it the same. I sympathize because I have an unusual name. Good luck to her trying to find a little personalized license plate for her bike or a cool key chain from random tourist places.
• Your family car is a bus. Like a real bus. The kind you take tours on in Hawaii or something. Oh and vacations? Take the BIG ASS Greyhound looking beast. At least they have options, I suppose.
• Bathing suits for the girls. Don't get me wrong, I am not a big fan of girls walking around in thong bikinis or anything but they might as well swim fully clothed. And we all know that swimming fully clothed is only fun and acceptable if you are a little bit drunk. Or a lot drunk.
• You can only eat so many ground beef or hash brown recipes.

The Ugly.

This poor woman's lady parts. Being pregnant for like ten years? That's not my idea of a party at all. While I've given birth once, and want to do it again, 19 times? Eh, no thanks.

You Know It's a Good Party When...

• Madonna, several New Kids fans, a few preppies, a Goonie, a random chick from Dynasty/Knots Landing/Dallas and that chick from the Whitesnake video all show up ready to celebrate the 1980's.
• Almost 100 jello shots are served.
• A Cabbage Patch Kid is birthed.
• The dim lighting does not affect anybody's eye shadow in any way, it's still as vibrant as in bright sunlight.
• Someone jumps into an unheated pool, fully clothed in 40 degree weather at 1 a.m. And when she emerges, her blue eye shadow is still in tact.
• Someone does the worm across the living room floor.
• Half a dozen women karaoke completely off key for the neighborhood to hear.
• Several people wake up injured the next day and have no idea how or why.
• The next day, you find house keys and lipstick on your front lawn, slippers under your couch, various tacky earrings in random places they shouldn't be and jello remnants on your recently cleaned carpet.

I have fully recovered from my 29th 80's Ladies birthday party and can say with confidence that I remember 90ish% of it. And yes, 90ish is a number.

Like, Totally Radical, Dude!

In honor of my 29th birthday last month, I am having a party this month. Actually, it's tomorrow. And we'll be celebrating the Eighties. The theme is 80's Ladies, so essentially a girls night in with lots of crap to eat and alcohol to consume.

I have put together the most ridiculously shitteous outfit. Luckily, the 80's are cool again so I was able to find a bunch of craziness on clearance. (Not that I couldn't fit into my original clothes from the 80's if I wanted to or anything, just so you know.) I saw a pair of neon green pants on clearance at Old Navy. Seriously, neon green. There was only one pair on the clearance rack, which begs the question: who bought the rest of them? I have been searching for these poor souls on the street ever since. I'm not sure that even in the 80's I would have bought neon green pants. Teal? Yes, of course. But green, I might have had to draw the line.

One of the tasks I gave the ladies was to bring a picture of themselves from that actual decade. I just found a picture of myself with my two best friends, fresh from the water slide park. Particularly noteworthy: I have Zinka on my face, two Swatch Watches on my wrist (my yellow/green/red plaid one and my purple and neon pink one, 'cause they obviously match), a cassette tape in one hand and a pair of Ray Bans in the other. (Oh, and for Stacy's Mom - I've got the sweatshirt tied around my waist, you know how we do!) I'm sure if this picture actually showed my shorts and feet, you'd see some slouch socks stacked in different colors and some ridiculously fluorescent shorts. This picture should totally set everyone at ease about pulling theirs out, don'tcha think?

Here's my checklist:

Aqua Net. Check.

Blue Eye Shadow. Check.

Bright Pink Lip Gloss. Check.

Neon Nail Polish. Check.

Scrunchie. Check.

Crimper. Check.

80's Music playlist with really Cheesy One Hit Wonders. Check.

Jello Shots. Check.

Bartles and Jaymes Wine Coolers. Check (They do still sell these, btw.)

Cabbage Patch Kid. Check.

Quintessential 80's Boy Toys - Star Wars, He-Man, Transformers. Check.

Strawberry Shortcake. Check.

Rainbow Brite. Check.

New Kids on the Block photos. Check.

John Hughes Films. Check.

Keds. Check.

Checkerboard Vans. Check.

Leggings. Check.

Michael Jackson Sequined Glove. Check.

80's Candy Collection. Check.

I'm looking forward to having fun with some of my favorite people. Let's hope I remember enough to post about the outcome!

College Bound!

This past weekend, we visited the campus of Stanford University. I've made it no secret that I would love for my son to go to Stanford for college. And preferably move on to med school and then we can all live happily ever after. Is that too much to ask? Granted, he is four but he already desires to be a paleontologist so I figure...bones are bones. Right? RIGHT? In my on-going effort to persuade him that attendance at Stanford would be in the family's best interest:

Me: Do you want to go here for college?

Him: College? That's like school, right?

Me: Yes.

Him: Ummmm, yeah, I don't think I'm gonna be going to college.

Me: Oh come on, it's like one big party.

Him: Oh, party? Oh, I'll go to the parties.

At the moment he is not a fan of Pre-K. ("It's so boring I'm gonna die if I go, Mama.") So 'school' of any sort is obviously not high on his priority list. In fact, all he talks about are his little friends' birthday celebrations. Let's hope this is not foreshadowing.

He's currently shining a flashlight into his eyeball so I'd better sign off. Plus, I need to go make a list of all the things I'm gonna buy with his college fund. He can fund his own partying! I did.