Why are you here?

My late Father could ask that question in a way that would make you debate your very existence on earth. Like for real, Lord, why am I here? You would forget your rehearsed manifesto and acknowledge defeatedly that you most probably had no good reason for being wherever you were, in that moment.

Today, I'm addressing the critics of social media junkies (I happen to be a card carrying member- hello!):

It's been discussed countless times, outright or with disdainful insinuations.  What makes social media junkies tick?

We must (be):

Narcissistic
Vain
Self absorbed
Have low self esteem
Need validation from strangers
Have no friends in real life - this made me chuckle
Be ugly- ha!
Have nothing better to do

I won't even debate the above, but let me throw the question back to you, non-social media junkie, that might agree with the above - OR- the proud non social media junkie that eschews posting or commenting or liking any post- but still yet knows a SM junkie's every single move?

Are you a:

Stalker
Hater - ha!
Lonely
Jobless
Pathetic
Cowardly
Not confident
Uncreative
Low self esteem having
Obsessed
Unmotivated
Non innovative
Judgmental
Secret Fan?

I didn't think so. So, again I ask- why are you here?

Don't forget to secretly subscribe before you leave!



*Seriously, when I found this mirror at T.J Maxx, I started looking around for my 'peoples'. We're out there, it's a movement, get into it!

Love your selfie, pp

The Fair ain't fair, and other gripes

I was pretty excited to go to my first ( yup, my first!) county fair this weekend.
Maybe even more psyched than the kids- definitely more hyped than the the hubby. But who knew that a la carte it cost like $14 million? Times five?  I was like 'whaaa'? I'm pretty sure my mouth hung open for a good five minutes.

Nothing is free. Or fair. Not even the fair. But we forked over dollars reluctantly and made the best of it. I put my foot down at the 'pay $10 to take a picture with a bull' scam. I mean, stand.  It's a fair, people!!And if I pay $30 for bull pictures, I am taking the bull home. Please believe.

So we milked a free fake cow.

And became one with the roosters (free).

And rode on (not free) rides, because while thrifty, I'm not cruel enough ( OR tough enough) to bring the brood to the fair and not let em do the rides! Come on. ;)

I do love me a good ferris wheel. And yes, je taime me some instagram. Tres tres, much.

Maryland state fair is next week. Any takers? :)

Yours in 'fairness' and justice for all, pp

Frenemies, friendships (or lack of therein)...

I like to be positive. I am a pretty sunny person, overall- just my nature, came by it honestly from my dear Daddy :)). So this will be the last of these kinda posts. But sometimes 'needs must go there'. So here we go.


Frenemies. Sigh. A house came between me and mine. My house. It was like an obsession with her - as long as we lived in this house, she could not, nay would not, visit- we could not be friends.

She resorted to snide comments and subtle (later not so subtle) comparisons and 'oneupmanship(s)'. Like ridiculously expensive private school tuition. We could have our house, but could we afford 20k a year tuition for our kids? If we really cared about our kids, we would sacrifice 'the house' and move back into our two bedroom townhome and make do. After all, that was what she was doing? Never mind that she had a (cramped) closet full of Chanel bags and what not.

My issue was not so much the unsolicited 'advice' on how to apportion my finances, nor the insinuation that she was somehow a better parent, not even my mild irritation with the age-old private vs public debate (my take, private, duh), but that she thought so little of our 'friendship' to let a little envy get in the way.

I mean, we all feel pangs of it - "Aw man, I wish I could...drive that... vacation there...afford that...". But how many of us actually launch a whole campaign around it(lol)? Abandon a friend/friendship, drop off the face of the earth? That's a frenemy right there.




Walk a mile in my shoes, don't beat me over the head with 'em. Dag. I mean, geez...(disclaimer: not my house, lol - MARC train yucky floor!!!)


Well, I mourned the loss of the friendship for all of a minute. that was all it was worth to me. The 'house' thing was her issue, her area of insecurity and once I realised that she was trying to make a pricey kindergarten education mine, we were done. What, so we can't be friends if I don't fit into the little box you created for me in your little mind? Awww, so solly. Must go now. Boo, hiss.

Don't get me wrong - a little friendly competition is great. Not being able to happy for your 'friend'? Not so hot. So adios 'amiga'! Don't let my huge, fancy oak door hit you in the tuckus! :)


Femme du maison :), pp

I'm baaaaaack!

After a one year hiatus. Well, a little over a year, if you want to get all technical with it. What happened to me? Well, let's just say that life conspired against my blog. First computer issues, then camera issues, then monkey-boy and Numero uno son issues (remember them?). Yeah, well just life. But I am back. For real. And to start things off on an upbeat note, I will give myself an award. Cause it's all about moi. The award for 'the crappiest mom' goes to... yours truly! Why? Read on, please.
I am always impeccably dressed. Always. As in my hubby has been known to tease me about it. 'in life there are two certainties, death and Prada Principal having the perfect outfit to wear.' And I extend the same ferocious attention to detail to my boys dressing as well. But like I intimated, life had been 'happening' and I delegated this to Nanny dearest since she seemed to know how to throw things together. Seemed to. Uh huh. Why do I get to Numero Uno's school last week Friday and see him rocking this G.I Joe pajama top, blue jeans and sneakers? I mean, I just about died. As if it wasn't bad enough, the top was slightly snug from being left in the dryer too long, you know what I mean. Just. Not. Right.
Suffice it to say we were out of there in a flash, and I am not sure I can ever show my face there again. Make me feel better, share your 'bad mommy' moments. Pleeeeaaaasssseee!
Yours in 'fashion faux pasdom'

"Those Neighbors"

You know the ones. With the kaleidoscope of Christmas lights all over their house and front yard, trees and shrubs the minute Thanksgiving dinner has been eaten. They have a wreath in every window and have even brazenly flung open their curtains ALL day and ALL night so that you can see their overly (ahem) accessorized tree.

Well, we have become one of them. I am not yet down with the blown up Santa and pulsating Rudolph(s) in the front yard, but we are in the realm of almost 'slightly ridiculous'. But I kinda like it. I think.

I even got a new ornament for the tree! Yes, Starbucks doth rock this chick's world. For long time. p.s. No that's not my house. (Nor is it my neighbors', thank God.)

Jingle Bellz, pp

Flaky

I cannot be trusted because I do not know my own mind. Or rather my wants change almost as soon as they become 'wants'. The boots I coveted last month, are not the boots I must have this month. The coat I bought (and returned) two weeks ago, I purchased again this week. All of a sudden I cannot live without this here body hydrating butter - which is, flakiness aside- totally wicked awesome.



My purplish lip gloss phase? Is now a nude/chocolaty brown obsession. Why I went crazy over these Wolford tights last month, I have no clue? Just flaky I guess. :-(



In shopping Rehab, pp

One Bad Apple...

I really, really, really wanted to like - no, LOVE- the iPhone. Its sleek, dark multitasking good looks were just so...'pradalicious'. I stalked it for a long time, just waiting for the perfect time to make it mine. I even bypassed the first one, to give them ample time to work out the kinks, you know? When the 3G finally debuted, I waited a fashionable amount of time, read EVERY possible review and opinion out there, tried out a friend's own, did all the research one could possibly do, short of like being an intern at Apple.

So of course, mere hours into owning it, I finally admit to myself that I absolutely HATE it. I really, really do. I did not know that an inanimate object could send me into such paroxysms of frustration. And I'm usually a chill kinda girl. But everything irritates me about this phone. The 'touch type thingy'. The fact that you cannot copy and paste - I know, right? The gratuitous smudging. The fact that my 'settings' icon needs to be thumped to work. The fact that putting it to my ear results in random conference calls to myself. The fact that the folks at ATT could not figure out how to sync my email to my phone was the last straw. Did I mention the 'touch type thingy'?. Ugghhh.

So come tomorrow, I shall be a Black Berry girl. Yep, the BB i so resisted for years will now be my phone of choice. My 'anti BB' stance was pure rebellion (against the BB toting, bluetooth earpiece wearing culture in DC) culture. but I am over it and firmly ensconsed in the BB program. Woot. Woot.

ttyl (not) apple, pp

Birth - the control of.

Dear FDA/ scientists/ would be inventors, women and all:

If there is any bill control pill that will not make me/ will make me (depending)

1) bi-polar, schizophrenic or otherwise moody,

2) balloon up by 5 to 50 lbs (yes, even 5 lbs I take issue with, what's your point?)

3) break out in prepubescent acne or angry hives,

4) cause hair loss and alopecia,

5) have incessant withdrawal bleeding that is equal to or longer than a regular period,

6) feel nauseated, bloated, suicidal, bitchy, crampy, witchy,

7) lose my sex drive,

8) give me cysts, growths, lesions, a stroke

9) give me an ungodly amount of discharge and/or any kind of foul odor down there,

Do give me a buzz. While I am not trying to get pregnant for a good while (or maybe ever again), I would prefer not to experience any of the above or kick the proverbial bucket, you know what I mean? Sheesh! Is it really that hard, people?

researching, pp