Subscribe in a reader Happily-Ever-After: The Epilogue: November 2009

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Psycho Killer Qu'est-ce que c'est?

For those of us that aren't necessarily singletons by choice, it can be a bit annoying when one is surrounded by saccharin displays of love being vomited all around.

Some of the worst offenders are stupid jewelry story commercials.

Now I love a nice diamond like the next girl, but when one is cozied up in ones slanket with a dog/cat as ones "date", eating homemade rice crispy treats on a Saturday night, you don't need to be reminded that "Every kiss begins with Kay...."

But I think Kay did a phenomenal job with this commercial. After all, serial killers need love too...



P.S.: When you two are done, maybe you should check on that noise down in the basement....

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Someone's bringin' the Seksy back...



The "Slanket"? What's this? the skank version of the Snuggie? There's all kinds of wrong with that name.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Dark Night of the Financial Soul...



OK, so I’ve scaled back on a lot of things lately due to a DRASTIC cut in income.

Granted, I could not completely come down from my fancy espresso drink high and have resorted to the methadone provided by a Krupp home espresso machine bought at Ross.

I haven’t bought any shoes….

Forget Wall Street--you know the country’s headed into financial CRAZY-times when I stop buying shoes. It should be a globally assumed index of the nation’s financial health.

I’ve actually started….ok….God I’ll just come out with it….I’ve start COOKING.

Like from scratch….

Using recipes and stuff.

And dividing and packaging up my creations to put in the freezer and take to work for lunches.

Every little penny pinching household trick taught to me by my parents…that I scoffed at while dining at Morton’s in Los Angeles, or buying my 2nd -3rd drink in one day at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf has now come back to me and been fully embraced.

Hell, I’ve been making my own bread. Low-carb diet be damned...homemade bread is dirt cheap!!

But there’s one thing that’s starting to give me the DT’s….

Just like all things worth addicting over, my first hit was free. I bought a tube of lip gloss and the friendly girl behind the counter handed me a “free gift with purchase”.

When it comes to skin care, I’ve always had good intentions…but the path to hell…paved…etc etc. So I’ve never actually kept up any kind of regimen. I’m pretty lazy. If it’s not food or coffee, I’m pretty bad at doing anything consistently, no matter how much I seemingly want to.

In my “free gift” I noticed a small jar of Lancôme Absolue Premium bx. I shrugged my shoulders and didn’t think much of it. I’d tried face creams in the past, and if I did manage to use them for a brief time, I usually found them heavy, cloying. If they did anything it was usually to clog my pores, but usually it seemed pointless.

I then I tried the potion in the little jar one morning after a shower when my skin felt particularly dry.

Is it ever like the first time?

My skin drank it in like fine liquor. The scent was subtle, barely noticeable…a hint of grapefruit perhaps?

I was in love and didn’t look back. I used it religiously until that sad day when my sample jar had been scraped clean.

This would not do…my skin was already crying out like the parched dunes of the Sahara.

I took to the city streets in search of my fix, anything to get rid of that feeling of stretch parched skin.

And then I saw her, the woman in the black lab coat and Lancôme name tag. I sidled up to her, trying to nonchalantly scope out my surroundings, was there a “free gift with purchase”? Did I need another gold lame make-up bag with the purchase of $28.95 or more?

I showed her my empty jar.

“Do you carry this?” I whispered.

She placed a full size jar in my hands, and I could feel the hum of expectation coursing through my skin.

I reached for my wallet.

“How much?”

“The 2.7 oz comes to $145.”

Holy Mother of GOD!!!

But I paid.

And I couldn’t stop. Every 8 to 10 months I’d go back like clockwork.

I told myself it was a treat. I was now newly single, divorced. I was constantly fighting an internal battle with myself with my ex’s words hanging like a mist in the back of my consciousness. I continually pushed it back, but it clung to my own fear of never again being loved. “No one else will ever want you…”

I was in my late 30’s, and my reflection in the mirror reminded me of that every day. I was looking haggard and my skin dull. But since I’d started using the cream, I’d begun to feel better. It was probably all in my head, but it seemed my skin looked bright….breakouts were happening less and less. And I know that dry feeling was gone. I felt I looked, not younger, but fresher…like I’d gotten enough sleep.

So here I am now, at a crossroads.

I’ve trimmed the fat; I’ve turned my back on so many luxuries. I’ve done the research, I know in my head that anti-aging creams do not really do anything, they’re not worth the money, and I can’t afford it anyway. I just can’t. But I am again staring at a very, very empty jar of face cream.

I’ve been experimenting with other grocery store aisle creams and I’ve yet to find one. They’re heavy, cloying, or smell funny. My skin is breaking out and feels annoyingly dry and once again, at least to me, looks dull.

It is a sad day. Oh. Miss Lancôme sales-girl, how I miss thee!!

**sigh**

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

What's the Story, Morning Glory?

Tumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
….”

The sun is shining and the air is crisp and cold lending atmosphere to the leaves which have turned brilliant shades of red and gold. All in all, it’s a beautiful Wednesday morning.

As part of my current cost cutting measures (nothing like getting hours cut and having to take a new job with a 25% pay decrease; though I’m very grateful to have a full-time job.), I’ve stopped buying my coffee-house lattes for the most part; and now make my own caramel macchiatos at home.

I’m on auto-pilot in the mornings…I AM NOT a morning person.

Let me reiterate for the person who may someday be my partner. I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON.

Nothing against mornings, mind you….but if left to my own devices, sans employment, I hit my stride after 6:00 pm. Thankfully, having a mortgage to pay means I dutifully haul my butt out of bed just before 6:00 am despite the fact that doing so is completely uncivilized and akin to water-torture and rightfully should be banned by the UN-- just my humble opinion.

Sometimes I do mix it up a bit, choosing the IPod and blaring music in order to shock the neurons into submission and wakefulness; but most morning I turn on the TV and listen to the news as I perform my A.M. ablutions.

So as I’m viewing my reflection in the bathroom mirror and admiring the exquisite beauty that is me in hot-rollers and a worn red fuzzy bathrobe, the words rolling out from my TV start to actually take concrete form in my brain.

“Shooting in a home in North xxxxxxx…..[s]everal suspects break into 44-year old man’s home and shoot him. The victim is currently at xxxxxxxx Hospital having survived the gun-shot. Police have sealed off an area around the victim’s house, searching for the suspects. Two men and a woman…”

AWESOME!!

And, as I’m want to do, I tell myself that while that is the section of town I live in, I’m sure it’s a ways away from me.

While I wait for the hot-rollers to transform me from an aging old maid into the sassy/flowing-maned/divorcee temptress persona I project to the world outside my home, I shuffle with my coffee past the cat, past the dog and out into my living room. Despite my innate aversion to the A.M., I start to open the blinds to let in the morning’s light.

Can I get another “AWESOME”?

Nothing says “Good Morning” like opening up your blinds to view police activity down the block--police cars silently parked at every other intersection all the way down your street. It gives you a special kind of warm fuzzy.

Turns out said incident was just down the block and around the corner.

Good Morning!

Monday, November 2, 2009

Twilight: All That Glitters is not Gold

Seriously!?!?!?!?

They just HAD to go and steal my idea. I mean, of course, in concept, mine was much more aesthetically appealing and held more true to the characters.

I envisioned a whole Twilight Love line: Weres vs. Vamps And I mentioned they would glitter, right?

Not sure if you can have glitter lube though, might be scratchy.

The Vamp



"...Updated by popular request... Yes the The Vamp retains hot and cold temperature. Toss it in the fridge for that authentic experience..."

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Do You Think I'm Sexy?



Crazy Cat Lady Action Figure

Every town has a Crazy Cat Lady. She's the one who lives in a tiny house full of feral felines. This 5-1/4'' (13.3 cm) tall, hard vinyl Crazy Cat Lady Action Figure has a wild look in her eye and comes with six cats.

It's a Slippery Slope...


...from here to being the neighborhood cat lady. I am of a certain age--at least it's something I can aim for, right? It's good to have goals.

Finger Lickin’ Good



Text (I have not edited or fixed spelling/grammer) from a recent email exchange I had on an online dating site:

“Gentleman’s” Introductory email to me, we’ll call him “Top-Gun”:

Top-Gun:
You are very gorgeous

Top-Gun:
My name is Top Gun..write me if you are interested in knowing more about me..hope to hear from you... I AM LOOKING FOR A WOMAN THAT CAN FLY A JET..(ME) YOU WILL NEED TO KNOW WHAT BUTTONS TO PUSH , OR YOU WILL CRASH. I am an intelligent, complex, kind, and sincere person. And if you fly me the right way..and if you are a good pilot..the sky is yours.....

Me:
Hello:
Ahhhh.....a jet, eh?

I'd have to say I'm a luxury cruiseliner built for comfort. Powered by steam, I would need someone to keep the fire burning...

Sorry--I couldn't resist. :)

How's your day going so far?

Top-Gun:
I would love to keep you fire burning..full steam...I hope me do not hit any ice bergs...My day is great..I am doin fine...A little lonely... all in all I am a happy camper....You play the Chello???

Me:
Hello:

LOL - Yes, icebergs would be bad!!

So I see from your profile you're an artist? What medium do you usually work with?

I'd been teaching myself cello, but I'm in need of a new a-string since the old one snapped. I'm also looking for a cello instructor to help me with technique and form...so it's a process.

So, Mr. Jet-Plane, how's xxxxx been treatin' ya?

Top-Gun:
I wrote you the worst email..you are an English major ???
Very embarrassing... I am new to this stuff..this xxxxx thing..so, I am not very good at it. I have been out of the dating loop for awhile...Other than that, I am great.

Me:
Yes, I was an English major, but in creative writing--so we're allowed to be "creative" in spelling and grammer. :)

I hear you about the dating scene....so tell me a little about yourself.

Top-Gun:
I enjoy staying home..I am a family man...single father of twin boys....I was raised by old fashion Italian parents...I enjoy much of the same things you do, I enjoy the Chello, NOT THE CELLO.
Chello is the spanish version of Jello....Hay mannn less make some Chello..ju know..I thought you would know that...(NOT FUNNY??)

with jokes a side, you look and seem sweet, smart as a wipp...

ME:
There's always room for "chello"...
How old are your boys?

Top-Gun:
They are 4 and a half...very handsome boys..good boys...

Me:
Ahhh....like father like sons :)

Top-Gun:
EAT.....CAN I TASTE YOU???

Me:
OK then...looks like this ship has come to port in crazy town.

Top-Gun:
COME ON...CUT TO THE CHASE...AT LEAST I AM FORWARD AND NOT PHONY..I KNOW U LIKE THAT...

Me:
True, but still, there should be a modicum of finesse to it all. Just sayin'...

Top-Gun:
SOOOO, CAN III???????????? Taste you???

Me:
Oh Sweetie..with my luck you're some 18 year old boy trolling the internets :)

Very entertaining though...

I do have to give you credit...you are straight forward. That's refreshing.

Top-Gun:
Love you...Top Gun

_________

And he was soooooo cute. I had high hopes for him. And to think he’s only 41….

Do you think he’d let me be Tom Cruise to his Val Killmer?