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I didn’t realize my mattress sucked until someone else slept on it and informed me it sucked. I had acclimated to the suck. I didn’t understand that this too soft, busted-ass, brokedown mattress was contributing to chronic pain I’ve been enduring. While I wanted a new bed desperately, shopping for mattresses isn’t fun. I don’t want to lie down where all those people have lied down before me. I can’t actually get in my sleep position because it’s so weird, so I just lay there like a corpse staring at the ceiling reassuring the solicitous sales guy that it indeed “feels great.” I’d rather avoid this undignified scene at the mattress shop. I recall when I stayed with my friend AMP for Pitchfork her guest bed was amazing. She purchased through Overstock and was quite happy with the transaction. I didn’t do a ton of online recon. I just ordered a competitvely priced fatty 14″ from Overstock. My queen arrived vacuum sealed in a box and expanded when I opened the packaging. It’s firm, but giving, quiet and cool. When I slept on my old mattress, I woke up with numb arms. I’ve experienced no more numb arm nonsense with my new bed. I’m sleeping so well now. I wish I’d done this sooner.
You won’t even believe the dumbass thing I did. I made a big ol’ batch of minestrone soup from scratch in my new porcelain soup pot. I made enough to feed all the elves through the winter. How much soup can one woman eat? I dispatched the minestrone into resealable plastic bags to give some away. When I placed the ziploc bags on the shelves of the freezer, it did occur to me as a fleeting thought that they could freeze in an irregular shape. I did not think the bags would embed themselves into the shelves during the freezing process. I was very wrong, so annoyingly wrong. The shelf wouldn’t come out, and the soup was frozen in from all angles. How the fuck am I going to get out of this one? I mulled over warming the soup with a hair dryer, boiling water, and shutting the fridge down overnight to thaw the bags. In the end I used my garment steamer to soften the underside of the frozen soup until I could loosen it free from its frozen encumbrance. These pictures are from midway through melting process. Yes, this was a stupid mistake, but I neutralized my stupidity with a clever solution. Idiot Savant.
When I was in Vegas a few weeks ago, I got sucked into Slednecks, a reality show on MTV profiling the weather-beaten drunken youth of Alaska. The doughy-ass boys aren’t cute, but they are endearing. What’s the saying? The odds are good, but the goods are odd. You’d think with the Alaskan guy-to-girl ratio the girls would have some slimmer pickins. For real, these dudes give whale blubber new meaning. Somehow most of the women remain bronzed, hard-bodied goddesses proving the technology of the spray tan has crept all the way to the Arctic Circle. The women of Slednecks are fucking tough. Like blow your couch up, crack a beer bottle over your head, push you down the stairs, knock you the fuck out tough. All drunken shenanigans aside, the true treasure of the show is master boat-maker Leonard who dispenses old bear Alaskan wisdom like Yoda. I love him. I want to go to Alaska just so he can tell me I’m trouble.
Went out for Trentemøller and it was like stepping into a total 1980’s New Wave Joy-Division-Depeche-Mode moment, a moment I was grateful to experience since I was barely old enough to remember the first time around. Anders is touring with a band which I didn’t necessarily expect, but sure appreciated for the dimension it added to show. The performance wasn’t pitch-perfect-polished, but it did organically build to ultimately bond the small (but devoted and mostly gay) audience.
Just got back from a baby shower. Said my Hellos. I stayed 30 minutes because there was nothing for me at this party. First, it was one of those invite the whole family type showers and I don’t have a kid or husband to reluctantly drag. The mutual co-worker who was supposed to attend with me cancelled (ugh, 4th time in a row this bitch has bailed on concrete plans). I showed up with my thick stack of Dr. Suess books elegantly wrapped. I dropped the present off at the designated table occupied by several medium-sized gift bags. I greeted the mom-to-be who was dressed in a tight, fuchsia, cotton, ruched tube dress. She looked like a raspberry. I told her as much, which in hindsight she may not have appreciated, but I love raspberries so I didn’t intend the comment pejoratively. Dad-to-be and I chatted for awhile, but I noticed the side-eye of the older ladies when our conversation extended beyond 5 minutes of appropriate small talk. Who is that predatory single woman circling the dad-in-waiting? Please. There are no secret yearnings. Excuse the blatant bitchery, but if I wanted him I could have him a year ago when we first met and he was drooling all over himself.
After I was done talking to the two guests of honor, I wandered around a little bit and introduced myself to a few other folks standing solo. Nobody seemed very interested in small talk, and it’s not my strength anyway. When in doubt, hit the buffet, right? Well you already know that I refer to buffets at barffets and am never in the mood for a group feeding. This spread was particularly bleak. Two circular trays of Subway-style sandwiches of dubious origin and questionable content. The fold-out tables lacked proper placards describing the menu. Just down from the sandwich wheels where huge bowls of standard potato chips. Why do people do this? Put out enough potato chips to feed and army just to watch them soften into stale after the first hour. Plate of pickles, ok, I get the nod to pregnancy cravings. A couple of large bowls of mystery potato-salad glop remained untouched. The beverage options included electric yellow “lemonade” and something that looked like soda. Not a cupcake in sight. Killing time with mindless eating would not be an option at this shindig.
The one activity provided for the children was butcher paper on the tables and crayons. I made a doodle. I met a couple kids. I drank some neon lemonade. Then I split. There was nothing left for me.
To that end, if you want people to stay at your baby shower for more than the obligatory 30 minutes, consider the following:
1) With regard to length. 2 hours maximum. This one was scheduled for a tedious 3. I like the idea of a short and sweet 90 minutes.
2) Delicious food. Lots of options. Baked goods. Simple non-dressed salads. Fruit. Cheese. Crudites. Readily available sweets. Warm offerings. Coffee. Tea. Iced Tea. Water. I personally prefer an elegant seated brunch.
3) Make introductions. Reign in loners. Ensure everyone feels included.
4) Create intimate seating arrangements to encourage eating, drinking, and conversation.
5) Designate a separate (but within eyeshot/earshot of helicopter parents) fun space for the kids.
6) It’s fine if you aren’t into “baby games,” but do provide some sort of entertainment or fun. Music. Dancing. Karaoke. Ice your own cupcake. Whatever. These activities start conversations and save people from dreaded awkward mingling.
7) Attentive hosting takes work, the preggo shouldn’t be hosting her own baby shower, but these two did it as a couple. Designate a host devoted to socially lubricating the shower. Mothers and mothers-in-law love this job.
In general, the fall TV schedule has not wowed me with its genius, but this season of Homeland is downright offensive. Was this show always so sexist and racist, and I was just too mesmerized by Claire’s windblown butterscotch layers to notice? Seriously, put your hair in a ponytail once in awhile. Bitch looks like she travels with Beyoncé’s wind machine. More importantly, I hate that Carrie fucked to land an asset as if cooch-control it’s her only skill. She’s supposed to be the head bitch in charge over there and she’s ranting around the office like a deranged lunatic even before the double dealer started fucking with her meds. Are the racist depictions of Pakistani people not smacking you in the face? To me, this…
is as obviously racist
Homeland = evil-ass propagandist show.
How often do you rearrange your furniture? I make subtle seasonal alterations. I rotate the placement of the artwork. I shifted a bookshelf out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I hung six floating shelves in three rooms and installed a five stack of heavy-duty custom shelves in the bathroom. I pulled out the heavier blankets and switched up my bedding. A little bit of change feels and looks really fresh. Even a minor rearrange provides a good opportunity to clean, sort, donate, discard, and display. Furthermore, hefting around furniture isn’t bad exercise if you are cooped up in the claustrophobia of cold snap.
Loyal readers know that after a few frustrating experiences, I abandoned my expensive monthly spa visits in favor of DIY at-home versions. For my first self-dermaplaning, I ordered surgical scalpels, specifically Integra Miltex 4-421 Standard Sterile Surgical Scalpel, Size No. 21 (Pack of 10). Next time, for more precision I’ll order a smaller size like a 15 or 18.I watched the youtube videos. I read the precautions and educated myself on the proper technique. My first foray into self-dermaplaning didn’t go disastrously, but I did nick myself and draw blood three times. It isn’t as dramatic as it sounds – think shaving cut – painless and gone tomorrow. Dermaplaning requires patience and technique. Lose the proper angle on the blade and bloodshed ensues. For this reason, I can’t in good conscience recommend you try this at home.I’ve been accidentally sliced by a rushing aesthetician, so I consider the risk differential between home and medi-spa negligible. Therefore, I will continue to practice my self-dermaplaning technique. Neophyte that I am, I still managed to turn out equal to better results to my last expensive spa visit.
Feeling confused and ambivalent by this information? I understand. In sum, you can really slice yourself up with home dermaplaning, so it’s best left to the professionals. That said, by taking every possible safety precaution, perfecting the proper technique, and exercising patience, it’s possible to achieve spa superior results at home.
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