house and home, humor, relationships, sleep

Pillow Fight Survival Games



The what? Quiet… Just listen.IMG_0465

For some reason, I have been kicking off the bed sheets at night and as of this morning, I woke up to every pillow on the floor. And all the sheets on the other side of the bed and/or the floor. Okay… The rumor is that I’m having night terrors in my sleep but if that was the case, wouldn’t the hot guy next to me be waking up with a black eye and bruises?

Is he?

No. He is not.

IMG_0439.jpgActually… I think he’s finding this whole – throw every linen off the bed – thing, hysterically funny.

Simpli Home Memphis Storage Ottoman Bench

I got up this morning like I normally do, got the morning routine knocked out, etc. The next thing I know, 7 AM rolls around, the sun is up… and I’m seething in pain! Now, I don’t know if that means I overdid it editing for 8 hours yesterday, and then hitting the computer desk again for another few hours of busy work this morning; (or your killer workout for that upper body on Saturday…) But, I’m feeling quite certain that it was the no-pillow having mattress I woke up to this morning. Wait, what?

Takeya USA

Look. Waking up with his arm in my neck isn’t exactly ideal. And a stiff neck due to pillow deprivation was not how I preferred to execute my daily activities. I am  definitely a believer that this is an open and shut case of the neck hook sleeper monster. Huh? Oh yeah, definitely that. True story. No it’s not. You got me. I made up the monster. I figured. More on that in another post! Please don’t. Oh… it’s done. *sigh

Spooning is literally the best sleeping position ever. Why it’s called the fetal position when you sleep alone and only when a secondary person sleeps next you is it called spooning, is beyond me. I think it should be called FPsquared.  A quandary. Indeed.


Not really.


Anyhow, superman is so much bigger than me that I am like a baby joey in the front pocket of a kangaroo, except with a large arm that falls literally right in the crick of my neck. Literally… and figuratively. Just kidding. He’s not a pain in my arse all the time.

Bugatchi 1600x300

*looks around the room for a witness to me notating air quotes on “all the time.”

Circling back, I mapped out a game plan to retain my body pillow in close proximity of my blanket and now pillow thief. Here it is:

  1. Build a pillow wall in the middle of the bed with the extra, unused puff comfy’s that usually sit on the floor at night.
  2. Hug as tightly as possible to my body pillow – and blankets – as squishy tight as possible. Resistance is futile. Right.
  3. Swat away any sneaky, unsuspecting large man arms from turning my comfort zone into a pillow fight war zone. How? I don’t know… fly swatter? Cookie bait on the nightstand? That might work.
  4. There is no number four. That’s all I got for ideas. Then why do you have it written down? Just in case something comes to mind before I post. *slaps forehead



T-minus 1200 hours. Stop it.

T-minus some amount of hours closing in til’ bedtime. Knock it off. 

Fine. Anyway, I think I’ve been watching too many sci-fi movies lately. You have. 

So what if he seizes all the cushions and quilts tonight? I’m glad you asked… I do have an alternate scheme in order to retain my bedding on my side.

Well, what is it? 

Ready? Oh geez, get on with it. Okay here it goes…



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Quarantine QT Pie
It’s official. I’m on my death bed.

Oh geez. 

I’ve been pronounced sick. Officially, by whom? Okay, not a doctor. I’m not a fan of those. Then who…. Oh, one of my friends. *slaps forehead. And I think I’m dying. You’re not dying.

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Okay, it’s a little post-karaoke, Irish pub, pre-wedding party people, sinus/head thing. What?

Damn Irish bastards. And that mango beer.pexels-photo-206396.jpeg

Rumor has it that you show symptoms of the cold you catch three days after the bug violates your system. Meaning? I don’t know how true this rings for ya’ll but this is what my mommy told me. *looks around for any mom’s listening

And since mom’s are ALWAYS right….

Therefore, this means, that it’s likely I caught this deadly flu during our singing disco night.

You wanna question momma? Go for it. I’m not going there. I imagine some typhoon from The Bible will come swoop my ass away if I Do it. So, by all means, agitate the universe. I’ll watch.

Fast forward to waking up on Monday with a tickle in my throat. Actually, more like apexels-photo-1.jpg freaking cat had been clawing the inside of my throat like a scratching post. Eyes puffy. OH, and the feeling I was hit by a giant truck. Like, um, you know the ones they drive on military bases. A tank. Yup. Definitely a tank hit me. A tank filled with a gaggle of handsome men in uniform!


If you’ve been reading for a while, or you know me personally, you’ll notice I don’t often get sick. But, geezaloo, when I do! WHAM! It takes me out like a tranquilizer dart that’s just hit a raging rhinoceros in the African desert! Yeah, teeth and all. And the horn thingie too.

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CUE AUSSIE ACCENTED NARRATION: *Kronkie! A sight we’ve nary seen, folks! Out here on the plain, it appears we’ve caught a glimpse of the horned-Rita-buffalo-rous. This majestic creature seems to be in a fit of psychotic looniness. Ladies and gents, she’s got the flu. Oh no, no… she’s spotted us. Move! Move! Move! Get the tranqs!

Um, wow.cactus-eyes-book-pot-159840.jpeg

I know! So vivid! And scary.

And dramatic.

Circling back. It’s now Thursday and I’ve been freaking useless for four days. I’m pacing my bedroom and have gone through my second box of tissues. 85 count. My bestie has literally chased me down the past two days -every four hours- with an over-the-counter medication cocktail that not only tastes horrific; but, literally makes me feel sicker than I already am. Oh, but then I pass out – and according to her – that’s the perk to the whole deal!

I barely take ibuprofen. Or eat real salad dressing.

IMG_6653.JPGSo here I am. On a Thursday. Drugged up on a NyQuil and Mucinex aperitif. Swimming in a cough syrup-laden linen swamp. What? Oh, yes, I may have forgot to mention that my bed has become a breeding ground for spilled containers of medicinal beverages. Menthol aromas abound.

Shit. It’s been four hours.

CUE HANDSOME AUSSIE NARRATOR AGAIN: *Behind the bedpost of the four-poster bed, we see “the bestie” tracking the mysterious and ill, horned-Rita-buffalo-rous. With her tranquilizer weapon tablespoon of choice, she moves in on this beast with the grace of a gazelle.

“Hold her down! I’ve got the elixir on the spoon! Go, Go! Now!”

So traumatic. It wasn’t. IMG_0870

Nah, it’s all good. She just poison me again. She didn’t poison you.

And then left me all alone. Again. OMG.

So lonely. Stop it. 

It’s… getting… dark…


*Special thanks to,

humor, self-help, sleep

Trombone Tutu Glam Squad

I’ve decided that since I already rock tiaras on my birthday, christmas, and

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valentine’s day; that it may be appropriate to add pretty glamorous tutus to my ensemble for new year’s! Please don’t. 

I mean, why the heck not. It IS a special occasion, after all. Do not get more glitter. Oh gosh how I love glitter… and unicorns!

Anywho, now that all the hullaballoo has passed and the flitter of glitter has settled I suppose it’s time to get back into those work routines. Boo!

Hey, I love my job… so, Yay!

Full disclosure, it has been so tough getting back on the horn this year. You play the horn now? No. Pay attention. 2018 has been gong on for two weeks. I know! And I’ve wanted to utilize that time to sleep more! Hibernating much? Must be the weather. Yeah – the weather – thats totally it! …or lazy. 

IMG_5431.jpgSoooo… In honor of picking up that trombone and glamming it up, oh geez. I trucked right on over to the nail salon – no wonder your typing so slowly – and initially had my sights on an ombre nail, with randomly chosen nails, all in a gleaming white with splashes of glitter on them. You didn’t. No, sadly I didn’t leap. I opted for the tried and true yawn-a-thon blush/nude. Which, goes with everything and makes my short stumpy sausages actually look long and feminine. Wait a minute, did you actually say “trombone?” Ah, love that. The trombone? No, silly. Fun AND boring nails! I may opt for the fun, gliteratti glamtastical next trip though… with a stiletto shaping!

BH Cosmetics

For the folks, namely, the gents who read this,  Yeah, they IMG_5432.jpghave names for the shapes that you prefer your nails are filed. Girl problems. This was -for whatever reason- news to me, as I usually just try to play cherades with the nail tech. *stands up, makes monkey sound and arm movements to emulate the shape of nails wanted

You want, oval, round, stiletto (pointy), squared, ballerina (not as pointy but looks like the toe point of a ballerina slipper)… oh and my favorite…. squoval. Squoval? I don’t know. And not really my favorite. Apparently I am NOT the only person who makes up her own words. You’re not. I know- I was baffled by this also!Although…  I really enjoy saying the word… squooooo-val. Stop it. Squoval. Knock it off. Haha…. squovallll.
Speaking of getting loud instruments to annoy others with…  Wait, what? If you’re having trouble getting motivated this new year; I suggest checking out our new video on crushing your goals. I must admit, I had to refer to it when wanting to get back on said obnoxious horn. *She said wearing a tiara and pink fluffy unicorn slippers… saying squoval

One last call of the wild  before I go… Oh no. 

Oh yes… squoval.

Is it fair that I shave my legs in the morning and I am a Yeti by noon?

*slaps forehead

This is NOT helping my motivational process.

You’ve gotta be kidding me. 

Yetis unite!


*thank you to our sponsors bhcosmetics &