Head On Over to Slynnro's Clothes

as I test out a look I never thought I'd try. . . curious your thoughts.

Scenes From A Marriage: This Is What It's Really Like Ed.

A conversation, beginning in the car on the way home from dinner.

Slynnro: Can we go to the store and get some toilet paper?

Mr. A: I guess.

(Mr. A hates toilet paper and goes months without buying it, just FYI. I hide my toilet paper from him because BUY SOME YOUR DAMN SELF.)

At the store....

Slynnro: HAHAHA! I have tricked you. In fact, we need not only toilet paper, but also laundry detergent and paper towels. BWHAHAHA! And I'm going to make YOU pay for it! With your credit card! It's like I'm stealing! But we're married.

(Mr. A thinks that every time we go to the store to pick something up, it is my attempt at extorting millions of dollars from him, since we have separate checking accounts.)

Slynnro: And you know what else? WE NEED CHOCOLATE CHEX! NOM NOM NOM!

Mr. A: Of course. You haven't purchased any in at least 24 hours.

Slynnro: ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?

Mr. A: (rolls eyes)

Slynnro: (Picks up FOUR boxes of Chocolate Chex, JUST TO MESS WITH HIM!)

Mr. A: (Puts two boxes back. BASTARD.) Honestly, I don’t think we spend enough money on Chex! I mean, Chex is important! Four or five or ten dollars a day is a small price to pay to be sure there is always a half-empty box of Chex sitting in every room of our apartment at all times, right?

And now in the car.

Mr. A: You know what I like best about Chex, aside from how much money it costs us? I love the way you EAT Chex.

Slynnro: Uh huh.

Mr. A: Why don't you sit down at the computer with a bowl of Chex?

Slynnro: I think I might.

Mr. A: I like to think you just grab handfuls of it and throw them at your face! You just eat what flies into your open mouth, and let the rest fall where it may, to slowly be pulverized! Do you wear protective goggles to protect your eyes from all the flying Chex shrapnel?

Slynnro: Uh huh. And I wouldn't want to forget to sprinkle some on the keyboard!

Mr. A: And then why don't you drop a bunch of it on the carpet? And then roll over it with the desk chair? And break it up into a bunch of pieces?

Slynnro: And never vacuum it up!

Mr. A: I love sitting down at our computer and hearing the thick carpet of Chex crackle under my feet. I love the way that each individual Chex disintegrates into roughly 100,000 tiny Chex shards when I step on it! Its like it snowed Chex bits! The forecast is for a continuous Chex blizzard!

Slynnro: YAY!

Mr. A: And then you should make sure a leave the bowl at the desk. But leave a few Chex in it! Just for fun!

Slynnro: Yep.

Mr. A: Then make a pitcher of Crystal Light! But don't put in the fridge. It's too heavy!

Slynnro: SO HEAVY!

Mr. A: Leave the Chex box out too. Those boxes are heavy, so I don’t blame you. I mean, I can’t even understand how you manage to wrestle whole boxes of Chex out of the pantry, to say nothing of putting it back!

Slynnro: I'm just going to have to get it back later anyway.

Mr. A: IT IS RIDICULOUS.

Slynnro: Hey, while I'm doing that, why don't YOU do a load of laundry so large that even the world's largest industrial washer couldn't handle it? And then? Leave it in there for 3 or 4 days so that when I open it, the stench of mildew is overpowering? And then eventually put it in the dryer, but don't like FOLD IT OR ANYTHING!

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I'm Posting This on Sunday Night So You Don't Have to Watch the Video at Work.

Because trust me, you want to watch this video.

My favorite moment is around 1:22.

Uh, Oopsie.

I'm not exactly sure what is going on with my memory these days, but let's just say it ain't functioning at optimal levels.

First, last Sunday, I did as usual and forgot to refill my birth control prescription. So I picked it up on Monday night and took two pills.

No biggie.

On the following Sunday night, I was digging around in the bottom of a set of three bathroom drawers and spotted a pill pack. I opened it up, and had another Oh Shit moment. The Friday and Saturday pills? Had not been taken. Since it was before my usual time to take my pill, I took the Friday and Saturday pills and then later that night took the Sunday pill.

Something of a biggie.

On Monday morning, I opened up my top bathroom drawer and saw my pill pack lying open. And the Saturday and Sunday pill had not yet been taken. I quickly downed them and immediately realized something was amiss.

What the hell happened?

I check the bottom drawer, and there's a pill pack in there too.

Fuck.

A few months ago, after taking a week's worth of my pills, I lost the pill pack and had to get a refill. That pill pack in the bottom drawer I found? Was the old pill pack. I just happened to find it during the same week of my cycle and managed to convince myself I had not taken those two pills even though I had.

So that means, and feel free to check my math, I took seven birth control pills in four days.

Yummy!

This little incident reminded me of the tales my friend, who was a pharmacy tech during college, would tell about various birth control mishaps. Most common? People who would come in with pill packs with pills only missing on the days in which they engaged in adult activities. Ya know, along with their in utero babies.

I used to chuckle at this foolishness. But now? I'm overly birth controlled. Which makes me just as big of a fool, but fortunately, an overly birth controlled fool.

And speaking of births and control, tomorrow I will be making a visit to the hospital to see a co-worker's (NINE AND A HALF POUND!) baby. I'm already worrying about the ways in which I will manage to eff up the situation and drop the newborn on its head. Fortunately, I hear that babies are for more resilient than people assume. Of course, I'd prefer not to test this theory, and certainly not on someone else's baby.

So that should be fun.

What about you? Any "meet the baby" mishaps? Birth control woes? Do tell.

And Yet You Still Read Me Anyway...

Sorry readers! I have yet again been unbearably busy and blog neglecting. I am LAME. But I do have a big product review post all lined up, which I will hopefully post tomorrow.

Part of the reason I've had no time to write this week is because on Tuesday night, I had plans. Awesome, awesome plans!

Champagne Tuesday at Dali! With all the regulars, and the new addition, Blue Eyed Bride. I only have three words to say about this: MOVE. TO. DALLAS.

Tonight I had a THREE HOUR LONG Junior League meeting, which is for a great cause. But OMG THREE HOURS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WEEK.

I also got into a bit of Twitter Tizzy today regarding an apparently ridiculously controversial issue in the blogospheres (Mr. A calls them the blogospheres. S is mandatory).

PARTIAL FEEDS.

This was spurred on by someone stating an opinion in a way that I found rather irritating (this person, btw, is someone I don't have a problem with in any way) and it just irked me.

You read my blog, you know I have a partial feed. I don't feel like I should have to explain this, but I guess I will anyway.

I work in the legal industry. In a particularly conservative part of the legal industry. I NEED to know who's reading. I need to know how they searched and got there. I want to see the IP address because I want to know if I have a reader at a certain law firm, and I can't do that unless people have to click through. And ya know what else? I WANT TO KNOW. Because I'm curious. I don't think that makes me a bad person. But some people seem to find this position completely outrageous. I have an opinion on that opinion.

BUT.

Until tonight, I have never stated my opinion on the matter. I don't write about how fantastic partial feeds are. I don't write about the reasons why people might have them. How you feel on the matter is your business. But I really don't get the incessant need to go On The Record about the issue. If you don't like my blog or don't want to read it because of a partial feed? I DO NOT CARE. I wish you liked me enough to click through, but if ya don't, ya don't.

Some of my favorite blogs are on partial feeds. THIS DOES NOT BOTHER ME. I like them enough to click on through. Yes, I get that some people don't like them because they are worried about reading blogs at work.

OH LOOK! WORRYING ABOUT BLOGGING AND WORK? Well, don't we have something in common? And yet, I feel no need to bash you for taking this position. I also try not to read a ton of blogs at work. Which is why I read and comment on my phone, and generally read my partial feed blogs at home.

Even more bothersome than the fact that I do not share that same view on feeds, I really don't get the need to state in the way it's usually stated. People don't just say, "I prefer full feeds!" "I enjoy reading the entire post in my reader!" Instead, they add nasty hashtags and use words like hate. I just don't get it.

And lastly, people seem to get all manner of infuriated when people have partial feeds because of ad revenue. I made about $0.17 a month off my blog, so that is not my purpose. I do have BlogHer ads, but my primary motivation for that was to get on a network and get read by more people because I really enjoy what I get out of the blogging community.

But if someone wants or needs to make ad revenue? They are a selfish pig? Really? You buy books. You buy newspapers. Why should someone feel guilty about the fact that they might want to make a few bucks off of their writing, which by the way, IS AT NO COST TO THE READER? Why begrudge them that? I truly do not understand and find this point of view especially ironic when voiced by people WITH ADS ON THEIR BLOGS. That's just hypocritical.

My intention here isn't to offend, and I apologize if I have offended anyone who is reading this. I'm just venting and vocalizing and stating an opinion. On my lovely, partial feed blog.

LIES LIES LIES YEAH!

The Bounce Dryer Bar?

IS MADE OF LIES!

I believe we've been using this for about a month. FAIL.

Also FAIL? My blogging this week. I've been in trial EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. SO TIRED.

Latisse Update!

Vacay Clothes day two, and for those of you who are interested, my latest Latisse pic on the Clothes Blog!

Yay or Nay, Enablers?

Looking for input over on Slynnro's Clothes. . .

I'm Involved in a Polyandrous Relationship.

It's true. I have my husband you are all familiar with, Mr. A. But. . . there's someone else. In fact, there are 3 someone elses.

I have not one, not two, but THREE work husbands.

What can I say? I'm a bit of a slut as it turns out. Don't worry, everyone knows about each other. I'm just in demand. I can't help it.

. . . . .

But seriously. I do kind of have three work husbands. But I have one main work husband. We go to meetings together. We go to lunch together, though usually we are in a group of my 6 best work buddies, the majority of whom are male. We are assigned to the same work group right now (though this is temporary). We are often spend down time wandering through other people's offices, looking for someone else to chat with.

Mr. A knows Work Husband. In fact, I think he and Work Husband would be really great friends, and I'm trying to make that happen. We've gone to dinner with WH and his wife, whom I love and went to happy hour with on Friday.

There is obviously absolutely no funny business or attraction going on here at all. It just so happens that the person who generally sees things the way I do at work happens to be a male.

I've talked to Mr. A about this, and asked him what his thoughts are on my relationship with WH. The primary reason I asked? Because I would NOT be okay with him having a similar relationship with a woman.

Yes, it's a bit of a double standard.

Allow me to explain.

I've always always been the kind of girl to have closer male friends than female friends. The majority of my friends in law school, and thus when Mr. A and I met, are men.

Mr. A? Is not the kind of guy to have women friends. In fact, the only close female friends I've known Mr. A to have are ex-girlfriends. Mr. A has a tendency to have exes who want to perpetually stay in contact with him. Which wouldn't be such a big deal except most of them are crazy. Regardless, this would be very atypical behavior for him.

Mr. A doesn't make close friends easily either. He tends to be a bit more quiet and reserved than I am. Okay, A LOT more quiet and reserved. Being loud and chatty as I am, if I am going to become your friend, it tends to happen rather quickly.

Two of the three women Mr. A was friends with at his old job were very clearly harboring not-so-secret crushes on him. Mr. A has a tendency not to pick up on these things until it's too late.

A more broad principle here: I think as a matter of course, must people are suspicious of opposite gender friends their spouse makes after marriage. Friends that came before you? Grandfathered in. Chances are if something was going to happen, it would have before you got there.

And for the record, Mr. A is okay with WH. Because he trusts me.

So, do you have a work husband? What are your thoughts on being friends with the opposite gender? How would you feel about your spouse having a work spouse?

Freckle-stache. Yes, IT'S A THING.

So, I said in my last post that there would be like intrigue and mystery or something in my next post. Put mildly, I embellished. Said plainly, I lied. BUT! There is going to be some Rod Stewart! So there's that.

BUT FIRST!

A moderate to mild Issue I am facing. I have developed. . . A FRECKLE-STACHE.

ALSO- I cannot believe I'm publishing this photo. It's awful.

You can see though. I know you can. I HAVE A MUSTACHE! MADE OF FRECKLES! IT IS HORRIFIC! And unfortunately, it seems when it comes to freckle-staches, even Amazing Concealer can only do so much. GAH! I don't want my tan to fade, BUT GOD I WANT MY FRECKLE-STACHE TO FADE!

So, yeah.

On to Rod Stewart.

On Friday, Mr. A and myself decided to walk to the hotel next door (where we had stayed on our last sojourn to TCI) and dine at Parallel 23, a restaurant we had been to before. It's a fancy pants place, with fish and steaks and $20 appetizers. So we were a little shocked at what we found.

When we were escorted to our table, we noticed that all of the tables had been placed to face a large screen at the front of the courtyard adjacent to the restaurant. We were informed that the dinner was a buffet. Too lazy to go anywhere else, we decided to stay (the buffet was actually quite excellent, if a bit wedding-esque). We chuckled about the Sade tunes being sung with harp accompaniment. Little did we know what was in store for us.

At some point, Mr. A looked up at the screen and saw this:

Yes, people. Not only were we going to get to enjoy a fancy pants buffet. We were also being treated to a ROD STEWART CONCERT DVD PLAYED ON A PROJECTION SCREEN!

I often find that when in foreign countries, especially Mexico, the likes of Upper Middle Class Americans are hilariously interpreted. This was most certainly another instance of that.

Of course, Mr. A and myself were one of only a few non-midlife folks at this fete. And based on what I saw of the others in attendance, perhaps it is I who am unable to interpret the likes of UMCAs. In other words, the old whiteys? WERE JAMMING OUT. Clapping! Dancing! Singing! Making out! We could not. stop. laughing.

All of this entertainment for the low, low price of $45 per person? Now that's a vacation value package!

Vacation Hangover!

Sorry, my brain is still somewhere in the Caribbean Sea, so today you only get pictures. But come back tomorrow for the whole fashion rundown AND a story involving mystery, intrigue, a buffet, and Rod Stewart!

No photoshop required.

Beach Feets. We're such honeymooners.

Oh, joy!

Celebrating Champagne Thursday at O'Soleil (or O' So-leel as Mr. A likes to call it).

Does this dolphin look familiar?





I'm on a mother#$*(&#$ boat!

(And no, Mr. A is NOT wearing a rashguard because of a backhair problem. He burns like nobody's business. And trust, if he did have a backhair problem, I wouldn't allow him to continue to have one.)

POSEIDON! LOOK AT ME!



Our room. Seriously.

We'll be back. Very soon.