I took a left turn on red and decided that for those of you that are Facebook and Twitter fans I probably should delve into my obsession with the Salvation Army.

It started when I was a Senior in High School.  I used to go there for men's blazers to wear with my rolled jeans.  Then, for Halloween I decided to go as a vampiress:

I'm on the far left of the picture.  I got the dress - triangle cut out in front and large section missing (on purpose) from the back for 49 cents.  And then I wore it in December to the Nutcracker ballet in Cleveland.  That was the start of a love affair.

I've just always had that kind of luck there.  And I don't mind shopping there.  NOT in the slightest.  Jones New York, Armani, Banana Republic, Ann Taylor...  People who pay $50 for a pair of jeans....pshaw, i spit on where you walk!...OKAY, not really!!:)

I just have phenomenal luck.  In addition, I love anything RETRO.  When I was a size nothing, I loved dressing up in 60's and 70's stuff....NOT INSPIRED STUFF...the real damn ass thing!

I can walk in knowing what I'm looking for be it a theme, a color, a pair of shoes, what not...and I can find it 8.5 times out of 10!  It's where I head to first when I have to dress for a special occasion like this:

This gorgeous dress cost me $4.  And, I'm STILL hearing about it ;)

Another time I was told to dress 'casual dressy rock star.'  I came up with this:

and this, too, was from the big S. A.:

The OTHER reason I love the Salvation Army is that it's organized by clothing type, then by length, then by color.  O.M.G.  A OCD/ACD/AC-DC person's dream:

Fine, call me what you like!  It was this love of the S.A. that led me to color coordinate my shirts in my closet(s).  First is black, then gray then white.  On the second tier is green, then blue, purple, pink, orange, red, off white and brown...  IT WORKS, OKAY??!!

I find that when I'm frustrated, I can go spend 30 minutes in the Salvation Army store and I get back into my zone.

UNTIL TODAY.

Now YOU have to deal with me.

Casual Dressy Rock Star, anyone?

How many brunettes does it take...?

Even though I've been pregnant three times (including the first when I gained about 70 pounds or so), my ankles have always been as slender as a delicate english flower.  Like this:

Actually my ankles have never done me wrong.  (Talk about giving something POWER!!)  As my waist started to go south (along with my boobs and ass), my ankles and calves have remained resilient to gravity and advancing years.  I've mentioned that here: http://jenmarr.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-promise-to-tell-truth-and-only-truth.html

This, of course, is my left leg...past host of tendonitis in my heel! :)  Sexy right?  (LOL)  







Well, today - actually yesterday I guess - I was BETRAYED!  BETRAYED I TELL YOU!!   I have a cankle!  (Cankle?  WTF is a cankle??

According to the Urban Dictionary it's:  

The area in affected female legs where the calf meets the foot in an abrupt, nontapering terminus; medical cause: adipose tissue surrounding the soleus tendon, probably congenital, worsened by weight gain and improved in appearance only by boots. From the English "calf" meaning wide portion of the lower leg, and "ankle" meaning slender joint of leg with foot.) Pretty technical.  I think it means it's this: However, please notice the brilliant use of color for this cankle.... WAIT!  I just saw that I need to wear boots!!!!  This might not be so bad!! :) Okay, back to the bad news.  The reason for this atrocity?  A LIGHT BULB! That's right, you heard me.  Edison is to blame for this! I stood on a chair in my kitchen to change a light bulb.  Stepped down...onto the side of my tennis shoe.  Instant agony.   Of course I shared the pics on fb...this was a glory moment for me. An ACTUAL injury!  (OMG, can you imagine the damage I could do if I was actually an athlete??!!!)  People said I need to see a doctor, others said I should have hired someone to change the bulb for me. (Hello, Jon Claude's Escort Service?  Yes, I have a delicate need that I need serviced.  Could you please send someone to change a light bulb.  NO!  That's not a metaphor!) Now, to speak to the people that wanted to go on a date with me.  Hello?  Hello?   Heeeeeelllllllooooooooo??????

New Years Resolutions

What most people without kids don't know is that there is ANOTHER point in the year that 'New (School) Year' Resolutions are made.  Well, if you're like me and not perfect, of course.

My Resolutions for this year are this (remember, I'm like the woman that lived in the shoe...my 6 year old doesn't require the same as my 19 year and vice versa!):

Know my child's teacher.  (CLEARLY this is for the elementary school-aged kids.  For the college kid I could care less.  Unless they are single)

Know what's in my child's backpack.  (Again, for the little guys.  Unless it's an old old sandwich.  Then, I'll let their dad handle it.  Um, backpack for the college kid?  I only hope he thinks of me and not his dad when he goes about his day.)

Know what my kids prefer for lunch.  (Okay, so Waukegan offers free breakfast AND lunch.  I can't get my kids to cop to that no matter how hard I try to sell it.  So, I'm forced to make two lunches a night.  They both like PB&J, but the youngest gets finicky about the amount of each.  YES, I have them make their own stuff on occasion, just not often enough to save my sanity.)

Have uniforms pressed and cleaned.  (What does 'pressed' mean?  Um, it means taking an iron to it.  Geez.  So, I guess this means I can't rotate pants between the boys.  The oldest?  Hopefully he's going to class.)

Monitor whether the boys/dads have crushes on the teachers.  (Thought this was okay for the early years...makes the dad come to the meetings.  UNTIL I found out about my ex - FIRST ex.  However, still thinks it's okay for the boys...they're young (NOT talking about the college kid, I was one of the few that watched Jack and Bobby when it was on TV))

THROW AWAY..(I do not need to keep every little thing!  NOT that I get anything from the college kid!!)

Know the days off...(I've been lazy because the little guy' dad has been off work...The oldest?  He comes and goes when he pleases)

I can't stress enough how great it is to have this set of resolutions...just lets let eachother know how quickly we break them. :)

Bowling for Benefits

I woke up this morning with an iconic movie quote stuck in my head - "Tonight, WE BOWL!"

Sing along at home if you're in the shower...Huh? What do you mean you don't recognize it?  You're kidding, right?  Michelle Pfeiffer?  Adrian Zmed? Judy Garland's kid?  That other guy that was in that other movie?  No bells ringing?

I'm OF COURSE referring to the sequel of this smash hit with Olivia Newton-John and John Travola...Grease 2, a movie that's been referenced in this very arena before: C-O-O-L

So that got me to thinking...Why isn't there a Grease 3?  I can cast it right now:  Miley Cryus (unless she gets knocked up right away or Liam doesn't want her cavorting with the cast I've compiled), Katy Perry as Frenchie (she already does that weird hair shit) and James Franco as the new T-Bone - Bird!  I mean T-Bird!  Who cares if he can sing or not...the old T-Birds couldn't!  Oh, throw Ozzy's daughter in the new one too...she would be a great Pink Lady! And, hmmm, Zac Efron, Taylor Lautner and Robbie Amell.  (That's Robbie below - you are very welcome!)  Of course, we'd have to have 'G3' take place on the beach to show off the ab-ACTING skills of these fine young thespians.

With that cleared up - text into a writer/director/producer friend in LA - I moved onto other 'how comes and why nots:" (Commute was a bit slow today)


Why are there still drivers that go the speed limit in the left lane?


How could ANYONE believe that Drew Peterson was a guy they wanted to marry?

Roller Coasters - how do people NOT fall out?  And, who offered to test that theory?

Those holes in kids' ears...the big ones...who thinks that feels good?

Same thing with piercings in ...ah...sensitive places.


OOOH, here's a good one:  What exactly is a Friend with Benefits?

The first part should be pretty easy to explain.  Wouldn't you think generally a 'friend' is someone that you enjoy spending time with - like having a beer, watching a game, taking in a flick? To be an FWB, don't you have to be a F first?

Perhaps not.  Follow along below:

There was a guy and a girl and they had 'benefits.'  One evening, the guy told the girl that he didn't think she was the kind of girl that he could hang out with.  WHAT???  Meaning he'd be so overcome with lust every time he was within 30 feet of her that their clothes would have to disappear??  That he wouldn't be able to have a beer with her on a couch without acting out the complete unabridged Kama Sutra?

Pretty sure that's not what the guy was talking about ....

So after hearing this story, I couldn't help but stop and consider:  So WTF is a FWB if you're not really Fs?

Cringe.  Hopefully for her sake, his name wasn't "John."

The girl bitched and moaned and regaled her friends with a comical and self deprecating version of the tale that involved this:

Not only did the nonFWB think the girl wasn't F worthy (and not the 4-letter F word, because as established, that was the modus operandi), the nonFWB told the girl all about trolling the online dating sites (even about specific people he tried to pick up) and the plans to reconcile with his ex.  While naked.  While on the wet spot.  The girl said she was just nodding her head in understanding while mentally castrating him.  (Okay, she wasn't being THAT harsh.  That's me using my poetic license!)  And then there was the, "I'm never cuddling again.  And I'm NEVER spooning again." Um, okay.

Yikes.

One of her pals, after letting her vent and commiserating with her by giving her the obligatory "he's a douchebag" comment sensitively explained what he thought she needed to do:

GET A BIGGER FREAKING SHIELD FOR YOUR FREAKING HOOHAH!

Did I mention how sensitive he is??  

I told her she needed to just move on and that I would tell her tale, giving her closure.

The end.

Editor's note:
Shield her hoohah!  Please.  You ALREADY think we're crazy! We are women of a certain age.  To the men out there:  do you REMEMBER what it was like to be a 19 year old male??!!  Add some boobs, other various different body parts and YOU'VE GOT IT!  

Geez.

The end.  Again.