fashion, healthy and beauty, How To, humor, self-help, Uncategorized

Knockout Nail Rehab

This week I thought it was time for a DIY.  Oh no. It’s been a while since we’ve done one pexels-photo-1367219.jpeghere and this one is a fun one! Yay! For the girls, anyway! And maybe for the guys too, who like to look at ladies’ with nicely manicured hands. And for the guys who don’t? Well… I guess I’m not talking to you and your exempt from this convo. No biggie.

Hopefully, it won’t be like the pumpkin seed fires of 2015, Or the alien abduction attempt of 2017. Oh, and this has zero to do with a zombie apocolypse; however fun that might be but as we females continue to do things to ourselves to keep a man’s attention… in some sense, it is a bit zombie-like. No? What the…?

Stay with me here.

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As long as I’m a hot and sexy zombie, with cute long nails, I’m cool with it. Let’s keep it real… I’m not going down the old lady train without a cat-fight.

*sigh, slaps foreheadpexels-photo-939834.jpeg

If you’re not a chickadee… maybe you’re a hubby, or a boyfriend, that’s cool… keep listening, this will save you money in the “keep my wife beautiful” fund!

Who doesn’t like more money in their pocket?!

Exactly!

pexels-photo-1819560.jpegMy budget includes a fat column for vanity. Shocker. I know. It’s a weakness. I love anything beauty, sexy, girly, hottie, cutie, sweet, adorbs, cheeky, glittery, sparkly – oh geez, we get the picture – Oh! okay, great! This isn’t to brag about money or anything like that, it’s literally that I have a budget and it includes a lot of girl crap. And in order to keep a handle on it, I’ve got a budget that tells me NO! when I’m getting close to going to far with said chick poo.

Your budget shouts at you?

Yup. Totally does. Now that I think about it…

We argue quite a bit actually.

Anyway, I generally get my nails done at the salon and the reality is I was spending close to two hundy’s a month! Hundys? That’s a hundred dollar bill y’all! – hunded, hunded, hunded dolla bills – sad attempt at a cool rapper voice. Yes. In my last album, I think I did some decent raps in a couple of songs; but it’s likely other rappers may not agree. Since I don’t claim to be a rapper on any type of front, whatsoever.

Nobody cares –  back to the nails, please.

Okay, okay. Not a rap fan? Fine.

So, circling back, it was about a two month set of tests, with trial and error, for this DIY.

A nail scientist? Totally! Oh criminy.

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I love going to the salon – lies– yes, true… I actually detest going to the salon. Its crowded, its like a puppy mill for for women, who get sucked in and churned out in 90 minute intervals for the gorgeous factor, and I am NOT a fan of sitting there footsie in the water getting to prune-scale all in the name of that #hotstufflife. Even when they double you up as you get a mani-pedi simultaneously, its just horrifically tedious.

Are you done complaining? No. I got more.

I can’t play on my phone I can read -literally – one page of a book because after I’ve gotten into my page they have confiscated all my limbs to get the beautifying job done. Leaving me without any means to turn the page to read the next chapter. Fail.

pedicure-massage-therapist-spa-161737.jpeg

And ladies, you know no one else is happy to be there either. There’s sort of this weird vibe where the other broads are irritated and/or annoyed or something to be there. And as much as we try to ignore it, misery loves company.

No fun.

When I go to the salon, I want to feel uplifted and gorgeous; not depleted and dragging.

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Dare I mention the hectic drive to get to said beauty torture routine? You dare. Seriously, the extra drive time, the A.D.D. that happens when I see a drive through coffee shop, or shopping mall… it has done me in on many an occasion, btw. It usually turns up a search party for the disappearing Rita. I can’t help it. I LOVE shopping. I don’t do it too often these days but send me out for a nail rehab, and your sure to find me avoiding it. I’d almost rather go to the dentist.

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Moral of the story?

You like going to the dentist?

No. It’s that doing my own nails was much easier than I thought it would be…

And, men…. you gotta appreciate the hell we put ourselves through to be beautiful for you.

Oh and one last tip. Even if you have trouble painting one hand, you can always paint the nail tips ahead of time before applying.

Enjoy the DIY fellow beauty zombies!

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Exercise, healthy and beauty, How To, humor, new years resolutions, self-help

Morning Routine: Phase One

A.K.A.

      PHASE: PLEASE SHOOT ME.

Okay, okay, let’s get to it.  If you have ever tried to implement a new routine for yourself then you totally understand todays post. Now that winter is in full swing, the “new year, new me” hashtag in underway… it’s time for me to get back on that pony express and ride into the sunrise. Huh? I don’t know. But, what I do know is that getting into a new, or in this case, old routine that I had running before summer vacation is not an easy task. Blah.

pexels-photo-1037993.jpegI have begun by setting my alarm (AGAIN) for 4:40 AM months ago. Holy – too early – batman! I know, it’s early but it works. I don’t know why 4:40 is my time to wake but; it just is, and what’s even weirder is I usually get up before my alarm, rising to the the tune of 4:39. 4:17. Or even 3:53. It’s not natural. It’s weird. Totally. I get it, but like I said, it works for me. Cuckoo.

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After I’ve set my alarm for this – godforsaken – time, I have set a series of alarms to keep my morning in check. Now, it’s a work in progress as I have been at this for a few months now since last summer’s end. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the morning… if you allow it. You totally allow it. I totally do.

Photo Jan 14, 3 36 56 AM.jpgAs free-spirited as I appear to be, I am actually extremely regimented and right down to the incremental minutes of my day. You’d think this would make me cranky if I don’t make a certain task or follow my alarm schedule but really I’m so much more cheerful, helpful and have more inner peace… Like, maybe that’s when my free-spirit-ness kicks in? Hmmm…. Even if I only accomplish one task, I’m cool with it. Like waking up? Yes. Like waking up. Routine is good, people.

Scheduled creativity? Yup. It’s a thing!

This morning; however, or rather the past few days, I have been rather sluggish. Non-motivated. I guess it happen to everyone. Let’s give a quick run down on my mishaps this week to put it in perspective.  Let’s start with the 2-a-day’s at the gym. I’ve totally upped my game on every aspect of my life and I’m feeling the lag. I hopped on the treadmill this morning and fell off. Hold on. What?

Takeya USA

Yup! Just, whoop…. slide. Kerplunk! Right off the back of that moving death machine. I’m IMG_0618.jpg
not even sure how that happens. No one else does either. Regardless. My body must’ve been signaled from the brain that day… not today sloth. Not today.

I attempted to read my third book (Yay!) of the year and it was moving the words around on the page. Boo. Not kidding. It was messing with me. It even hid itself from me. How does a book play hide and seek? Good question! When you find out the answer, tell my lost book, it’s time to give it up and show itself.

My back-to-basics boring food hauls. Well, those are just boring. Not much to report on plain rice and egg whites. Fermented probiotic drinks. Protein bars. Vegetables. Boring. Boring. And more boring. But food is fuel… blah, blah, blah. I know.

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Sitting at my desk to get work done? That kink in my neck creeps up again…. *shakes head, don’t get me started 

Photo Jan 14, 3 31 45 AM.jpgAnyway, I think you get the idea and then, boom! The morning routine I so meticulously orchestrated has fallen to the wayside. I’m now finding myself saying, my body needs to recoup-hit the snooze button. I’ll push my appointments a couple hours-it’ll be fine. Gosh, where are my favorite high heels I like to wear? I donated them? Why the hell did I do that-I loved those things. *remembers aggressive decluttering mission of November 2018

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Damn it.

You’re rambling and way off track. I know.

Just like phase one of that morning routine.

Exercise, fashion, healthy and beauty, humor, new years resolutions, self-help

Pleather Sausage Pants

You ever own a pair of pants? Yespexels-photo-461646.jpeg

That you freaking LOVE?! Yes.

Only to find that said pants you are loving…

Don’t love you back? OMG YES.

Well, this is my black pleather pants I bought last year. Wait. They are gorgeous. Hold on. They are high waisted. Pleather? Oh! Yes, they are plastic leather. Huh? Meaning, they look like some kind of leather; but they aren’t.

Ah! Got it… Carry on.

Anyway, they are skinny style in the leg. And therein lay the problem. My legs aren’t playing nice with the damn stretchy plastic. Oooo, nasty visual there. Right!  My thighs fight them when they’re pulled up. My hips are pushing them off. The waistband has this massive extra space that I could smuggle a large book in between the fabric where my stomach should be. My inner squish is slapping together when I walk, causing an annoying squeaking sound. They’re not even patent leather! How the hell are they squeaking?!

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You see, last year, when I got them, they fit amazingly.  So much so, that I wanted to wear those damn pants  every day! You so would. I totally would.  But let’s face it, you can’t wear leather pants to church, or to the gym, or an animal park. An animal park? Well, maybe I could. And maybe you’d look like a solid, tasty lunch for a predator. Okay. Not the zoo then. While, my weight has toggled a bit this last six-eight months, my physical appearance hasn’t been too gnarly.

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SIDEBAR: this has also been a point of contention for me too. So much so, I had to add a weight loss goal to my annual goal setting resolutions this new year. So sad about that.

Ish, happens. *shrugs

pexels-photo-1040532.jpegMoving on, I’ve also washed these pleggings a couple times and I’m wondering if the shape of the pants themselves had been altered due to that. *fingers crossed, please. Please. Please. Please.

Damn those household chores all to hell. Especially you, laundry. Boo to you. Boo!

And so it begins… the tale of the plastic leather, pleather pleggings. Here’s the plan. I am going to try them on again in February. Oh no, not another plan. Lord help us all if these bastards don’t fit. I’ve been hitting the gym 6 days a week, living on dry toast and rice, and drinking enough water for a buffalo herd.

Which is about the size I’m feeling about now. So it’s fitting!

No, it’s not fitting. The mock-trousers aren’t fitting at all. That’s the problem!

You’ll show them.

No britches are going to beat me. That’s right. *nods in affirmation

Go get ’em, sausage girl!

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