Day-to-evening ONE-sie


“It’s a ONE- (it’s a one!) -SIE summer, wearing nothing but onesies all day in my: ONE- sie summer… now your gonnnnnne.” Ok, so it’s hard to decipher what the hell kind of song that was but think, circa 1988 “Cruel Summer” by Bananarama. Ok, NOW, resing the first line… *wink


Date Night ONE-sie

What the hell. Ah, the ONEsie fad of sunshine season past… duh. If you’ve been busy with life then it’s likely you’ve no clue what I’m saying. Onesies in the am. Onesie’s aren’t for just babies anymore! Onesies for bed. No sir! Onesies with footies! No? Oh… Wake up from your onesie nightmare! It’s here and I’m going to wear these little bastards EVERY. Freaking. Day.  As I was getting through the summer I noticed my closet has become full of these awesome little ditties. They’re so easy to wear. It’s like one and done; at it’s epitome. I had a onesie for the grocery store, the beach. I had onesies to go out to dinner on dates. Ok, so, I didn’t have many dates; But, I had a onesie just in case of the off-chance one would mysteriously appear. It’s got long sleeves, so I’m thinking I may still be able to get a Berry’s -after hours- lobster pizza out of it.


Family time ONE-sie

In fact, I have been wearing these so often, that it’s likely I need an intervention. A onesie intervention. And… a fashion overhaul. For my onesie obsession. Pimp my closet! But spare the onesies! Shoult thou layeth hands on mine onesies… I shall seek fulleth extenteth of monkey attack on perpatrateth asseth!

So folks, if you weren’t on board the onesie revolution of summer, you missed the boat. Because with my luck the popular throw on and go uniform I’ve become to attached to is likely gone… It’s my wardrobe curse. I’m sure there’s sale racks full of them now though…. Oh shit! Sale racks!! Uh oh.  Full of onesies?!! And we lost her… Gotta go!


DISCLAIMER: And for those of you ready to point out my 2-week stay-cay va-cay turned out to be a 4 week-month… yeah, I’m aware. And I enjoyed every minute of it. Plus, I got some great material I’ll be sharing throughout the next week from the experience. Yes. Taking time off can absolutely be an expereince. Especially if you are me…Luck of the draw, fancy friends. Luck, of the draw.

Stay-cay Vacay

The time has come for my two week stay-cay vacay. Yay! With my yotube yoga sessions hanging in the balance from the wake of the insiduous mattress debacle… It’s vacation hour here on the ranch. What ranch? No ranch. You live on a ranch now? No, there’s no ranch. It’s a figure of–What the hell are you talking about? HOME. Just home… Another name for what I call home. Focus. Geesh!


Hello stranger, may I borrow your lap for a photo? #tryingoutastranger

It pains me to sign off for a few. No it doesn’t. But, whether it does or doesn’t cause me sickness, I can use these precious minutes for catching up on some reading (naked), extreme couponing (naked) or braiding my hair. Naked. What? I don’t know. I likely won’t get to either of those peaceful activities anytime soon. Couponing. Peaceful? No, but the nakedness of it all was, what I’m really looking forward to. Not necessarily the police picking me up for indecent exposure in the dairy case… But hell! It sure was fun thinking about the possibilities! Not at all really. Feel free to read up on past posts, comment and the like.  Embarking on the adventure of a lifetime which involves doing NOTHING. Hardest thing I’ll ever do. I’ve had four days of nothing due to my broken neck -it’s not broken, stop telling people that- and I’m already going nuts. Didn’t have far to go though. Nutcase ingrained. Or nut-filled. Trust that I will undoubtedly -and unfairly- be catching up on freaking everything I haven’t gotten to (like martha strewart-like projects) and that just doesn’t sound like a fun vacation at all actually. Nope. It’s more work. Blah. Where’s the flying ponies?! Flying pink-haired ponies with pretty wings and cotton candy scented confetti from their hooves, that trickle down as they glide across the sky?!

I want THAT vacay.

Not gonna happen.


But, I better just be happy I can sit in the bathtub for three hours, undisturbed.  Getting all pruney and stuff. Dreaming about ponies that fly…

Out here on the ranch. *slaps forehead


DISCLAIMER: Yes. That happened. And, thank you kind man-stranger, next to me at the bar, I needed to borrow your lap and you complied.

Air Mattress of Death, Part 2



I have great friends. True. They are so good at taking care of me. 100% …I am a princess after all. Yes, you are. After much pestering from my peeps on the many “whys” I shouldn’t be sleeping on a couch, I finally gave into peer pressure and borrowed their damn air mattress last week. Totally set up for failure. As much as people may like to believe I am super high maintenance, it’s more of an OCD problem than it is hyper-involved, pretty girl pouty problem. Stay with me, I’ll explain. I borrowed an air mattress. Again. Which, one could believe was hell-worthy to begin with; but it wasn’t. It wasn’t even the beginning…

Friday I had THE WORST headache of the century. So terrible that I had my eye mask on, was drinking ginger tea to calm the nausea -caused by said headache- and just tried to sleep it off. It was absolutley debilitating. And annoying. As much as I  joke, I’m anti-prescription meds, anti-over-the-counter-crap, and will just suck it up and power through it. I believe the mind is a powerful thing. And to not utilize that power would be idiotic. Yes, there are exceptions blah blah… But that doesn’t matter here. Not even a little bit. So, by late evening, the severe pounding finally dissipated enough where I could do some yoga for my migraine. You know what guys always say gets rid of a headache? Hush. We know. It was calming and helped immensely. And wasn’t perverted at all… guys. The headache didn’t go away completely, but I could feel the tension release. You know what would “release–” shut up.

Fast forward to Saturday, I had slept on this mattress for a second night. Bad idea. The first night

Yes, there’s a sippy cup for everything…

went well, aside from headache guy -in my head- swinging the hammer the previous 24hr period, so I continue on… This fucking mattress. This is when shit got real. It tried to smother me. I tossed and turned all night. Seriously, it tried to suffocate me. I had to lay like I fell from a ten-story building just to even out the airy part of the damn thing. Please kill me. Add to the fact I couldn’t stop sweating in my plastic hell. Drowning me in this factory-made, chemical sleeping cell. Dramatic much? Always. Listen. If I’m inhaling the weird velvet coating on this blown up pool of air fuckery, then it’s safe to suspect this bastard also tried to poison me too. I woke up with a broken neck on Saturday. Really. You’re neck is broken now… Fine, it’s not broken. But I could not move my head from side to side. Or at all. Ugh. So, my headache is gone and now my body -which spent the night fighting for it’s dear life- is now in seething pain. So, my son had to wait on me hand and foot while  I’m back on my (fully paid for) couch. Laid out. In tears. All day. So, I ring the bell conveniently located next to my open sofa casket and summon for a sippy cup -made for wine- and slurp away.

DISCLAIMER: Why don’t I have a bed, you ask? Because I’m a picky bitch. I refuse to buy just “anything.” I wait to buy exactly what I want and am A-OK to go without until I find what I am looking for… plus I need another payment plan. *wink