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Turnabout is fair play, right?
So after all those awful Ball Wash ads I kept getting I suppose this was inevitable.
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A pain free ride?
I’m not sure whether to be relieved…
Or scared.
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Tag Archives: women
Slutty mongoose. Who knew?
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I admit I never gave the mongoose much thought before I read this article.
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But now?
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The ladies have earned my respect.
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You go girl!
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Something to sink your teeth into.
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Let me preface this post by saying I’m a woman.
A woman who loves jewelry.
A woman who has drawers, boxes and yes even Tupperwares full of jewelry.
But no where in my vast collection of personal adornment will you find these:
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At first I thought this was a joke. I mean come on…
Great Grandma’s choppers are not the first bling I think of when I’m slipping on my little black dress.
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But apparently this is real.
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And more than a little disturbing.
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May I just say…
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Eww.
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Engagement rings?
No. For the love of all that’s holy…. don’t get down on one knee and propose with late uncle Ezra’s right rear molar.
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That’s just wrong.
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Cosmo-ly Hell (warning- things go south quickly… literally and figuratively)
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This month’s issue of Cosmopolitan made me wonder why my girlfriend gave me a subscription to this in the first place. Fashion and make up tips? Fine.
But, hey… I don’t have a post pandemic sex bucket list and don’t plan on making one any time soon.
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But if I did?
I can assure you this wouldn’t be on it.
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Good grief. I’ve been known to blog about my trips to the grocery store… but I seriously doubt anyone wants to read about that happening in the middle of aisle 12.
After the bucket list, there was a list of commonly asked questions.
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I don’t know about you, but that’s not something I commonly ask.
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And I can guaran-damn-tee you I’ve never asked that!!
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I’m not going to show the answers to that one, you’ll never look at the contents of your kitchen cabinets the same way, but I’ll leave you with this more than slightly suggestive accompanying photo.
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This.
This is what passes for a woman’s magazine these days.
Hell, I’m not a prude… but it seems like these articles would be more suited to Hustler or Gynecologist’s Quarterly.
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Cosmo-what?
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#2 in the series of ‘I’m definitely not young and single anymore’. Otherwise known as Cosmopolitan magazine highlights.
Or lowlights, you decide.
Gentlemen?
You’ve been warned.
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First up, a strawberry vagina.
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Magical?
Yeah, I must be doing something wrong. And because there are probably other women like me?
Products.
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Am I surprised they are named Honey Pot and Fur?
At this point, I am not.
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This explains a lot about the current generation. I enjoyed moving out of my parents house, but maybe that was just me.
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What brownie abomination is this?
No. Just…. no.
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Wow. And I thought breaking up via text was bad….
Finally there was this:
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Strategically placed mirror aside…. FaceTiming your gynecologist? I’m beginning to relish the fact I’m not in my twenties anymore.
P.S. … don’t be surprised when that cat starts having nightmares.
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Beauty products I probably need, but won’t buy.
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This first one makes me laugh because I’ve been saying it for years.
Don’t waste your money on expensive wrinkle creams ladies… just get some spackle and a putty knife to fill in those cracks.
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See?
Same idea… different packaging.
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Bad pun aside, if I want to slather egg white on my face? I’ll wait until it’s time to bake blueberry coffee cake again.
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No plastic egg required.
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This has always baffled me.
It’s ACID…. and peels off a layer of your skin to boost that brightness. Vegan?
Well no shit.
How many cows do you know who are filled with acid?
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Silicone mask brush?
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Looks like another putty knife to me.
Finally, there’s lip lifter.
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Lip lifter.
For Christ’s sake. I have boob lifting bras and butt lifting panties …. now you want me to lift my lips?
I give up.
Gravity, do what you will. As long as I can still lift the martini glass?
I’m good.
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Clearly it’s been a long time…
As you know, I am not a 25 year old single woman…. (Please refrain from commenting if you value our friendship) so it’s been a while since I leafed through a Cosmopolitan magazine. But for some reason a girlfriend gifted me a subscription, and I felt I needed to honor the gesture.
Hmm.
My hair removal routine is neither adventurous nor worth writing about, and as for the scale….. I’m afraid my hairless cat level will have to remain a mystery. I like my readers, but not that much.
And how do they know walking burrito wasn’t the look I was going for?
Fashion is personal…. and I happen to have the perfect black bean earrings to match, so there!
The selfie wasn’t around when I was young and single, so this may be a day late and a dollar short… but here goes.
Okay, so maybe I need a little more practice.
What kind of noodle am I?
Yes…. I’m beginning to remember why I stopped reading Cosmo in the first place.
(In case you’re wondering? Rigatoni baby.)
I found this issue to be so utterly ridiculous, I may have to make it a monthly series. And if you’re groaning now?
Just be thankful I didn’t share all the articles today.
Yes, it’s clearly been a while since I read single women’s magazines.
Can someone please explain the logic?
Because I’m a mere woman and not able to comprehend the genius that is the male mind.
I understand the need to temporarily seal up the big barn doors for winter. If the husband is going to spend all that money for a heat pump, we don’t want all the lovely warm air escaping. So a few insulated foam boards, some tape and call it good… right?
(Please remember the key word is temporary. This will be important later on.)
In my previous post I shared pictures of the frame, the double layer of foam boards, the plywood, and the finishing border.
And yes, those are two antique safes that weigh the combined equivalent of a small elephant herd.
Do they open?
Well, they would if my husband had the combinations… which he doesn’t.
Good times.
But back to the doors. The temporary doors that he keeps assuring me will be easily removed.
When I went out there the other day?
This:
Yes.
There is now a shelf with an old stereo mounted on the temporary doors.
And quite high up on the temporary doors I might add.
High enough so yours truly can’t reach the power button… which may or may not have been intentional.
So please help me out with the male logic of this.
In the event we need to open the barn doors… because you know, they’re doors and that’s kind of their thing…. we will need to:
1. unscrew the shelf brackets
2. remove the shelf
3. unhook the speaker wires
4. take down the stereo
5. remove the border frame
6. remove the plywood
7. remove the double layers of foam boards
8. remove the inner frame
Does this sound temporary to you?
Because my female brain is having a hard time reconciling this kind of temporary.
I am actively searching.
For this:
Not only does it sound delicious, but it’s a company founded by women….. so yay for sisterhood.
And if you find it before me…
Drop a review and let me know.
We are definitely not mathematicians.
On a gloomy, overcast Sunday morning….we started putting trim board on the baby barn at 9:00am.
At 10:00am we were still on the first piece.
And yes, at 11:00am we were still there as well.
Frustrating?
A wee bit.
Cutting angles is not our forte….. and it almost made me wish I’d paid more attention in 7th grade geometry.
A lot of serious thought, planning… not to mention cursing…. was going on right there.
And before you say “Use a mitre saw!”, we did. But the building is less than straight and square and when we finally did manage to get it right?
It was still wrong.
Thank God for flashing. It covers a multitude of sins.
So this side looked good.
But when we turned the corner?
Not so much.
How the Hell did that happen?
There was only one solution.
Sit on the big barn porch and photograph it from far away.
Yes.
Much better.
More flashing, more nightmarish trim board.
And if you’re asking what I contributed to the project?
Besides acting as a general gopher…. because when the husband is up his tools are down, and when he’s down his tools are up… my contribution was this:
Classic tunes on shuffle.
There he goes again, ever the optimist.
Thankfully the husband used to do roofing when he was young, so yes. The shingles were perfectly level.
And because he was so thrilled something was finally level?
He checked it again.
And again.
I gave up on him at 6:00pm and headed inside for dinner, but he was out there until 8:00 trying to reach the top.
He didn’t quite make it.
