Thursday, February 14, 2013


Well, hello there, besties. May I be the first to wish you a Happy Meaningless Valentine's Day.

Big plans for this V-Day? Pehaps you'll join the crowds in some snazzy restaurant? Purchase flowers  for 5 times what they'd have cost you this time last week? Offer chocolates, cards, or stuffed animals?

None of that for me, loveys. No siree. I'm just not that gal.

Bah, luvbug!

It's just that I believe every day should be treated like Valentine's Day. Don't let me go. Most people forget that love has to be nourished, on the daily, or it wilts and dies. Kinda like those overpriced flowers you got.

It's just not cool to forget I even exist on most days, then around mid-February shower me with heart-shaped candies and a card you got at the gas station on the way home, and think That'll do, pig.

Suck it, Cupid!

I shall stay home alone in protest, nuke my sodium-rich dinner for one, and possibly indulge in a boink-fest once the kids are asleep, if I'm still awake when my Valentine gets home.

Don't get me wrong. I love the idea of romance. I love the idea of real love. I mean, thinking someone out there could look at me and see me - I mean, really see me - and still love me in spite of my nerdiness, and embarrassing laugh, and huge sweatpants collection...Yeah, I want that. But I want it - no, I actually need it - every single day.

And it doesn't take much to please me, loveys. I'm super-simple.

I absolutely adore a man who will surprise me with flowers, not because the calendar told him to, but because he wants to make me smile. They don't even have to be store-bought; hand-picked is a-ok for me.
A random text just to say "I'm thinking of you." melts my heart.

A dude who truly loves my babies, and would protect them without a second thought is irreplaceable to me.

I need a man who doesn't need to spend a single dollar to have fun. We can sit at the kitchen table playing cards, or duke it out in the living room on Wii boxing (better let me win though), or we could just turn the tv off and talk and laugh and joke around.

The simple things are what makes a Valentine for me, loveys.

And you know what? I think I have that dude. He takes care of me and supports my far-fetched dreams. And for whatever reason, he loves me. I don't know what tomorrow brings, guys. But I do know that for me it will still be, in some way or another, just another Valentine's Day.

xoxo, loveys!

Tuesday, February 12, 2013


So I'm sitting here minding my own business, pretending to write but actually bouncing around the internet, when I came across this story of a man who built up his own comfy retirement in just 20 short years. He cut up his 13 credit cards, lived modestly and paid all his debts off extremely fast.


My entire retirement fund at this point consists of the trash bag of empty soda cans in my trunk and the $20 in birthday money my mom will send me this year.


I've still got plenty of time though, right? It's like my bestie Buzz Lightyear says, "This is no time to panic."

All I have to do is come up with a few cash-grab ideas, then simply not spend the cash I grab. Easy-peezy.

Fund-raising ideas are all around us, if you look hard enough. Let's see here...
  • Wishing wells/or fountains - hold your nose, dive in, grab the coins and Voila!
  • Cash in your gold! Teeth or fillings, that is. Face it, lovey. Nobody looks cute with a grill. Not even you, Nelly. Gold teeth are so 5 years ago. Trade your teeth! (It's not as hillbilly as it sounds, I swear.)
  • Donate plasma - I can't do needles though, loveys. So donate some for me while you're there and we'll split it 50/50.
  • Turn snitch! I saw a billboard yesterday offering "Cash for tips" from Crimestoppers. I blinked twice to make sure it wasn't a money-mirage of some sort, but it was indeed real. Just make sure the money you get is enough to get your ass outta town afterward, 'cause "You in danger, girl!"
  • Beg online! Post a pathetic Facebook picture of yourself holding a sign. Something like "My grandpa said if I can get 1 million Likes, he'll pad my savings account."
  • Become a model! I'm about 5 inches too short and 50 pounds too fat for the high-fashion stuff, but I could totally pose for something realistic, like store-bought movie theater snacks. Is that a thing? I'll go ahead and start on my portfolio, just in case:

Supermodel Step 1: Work it and twerk it.

Supermodel Step 2: Sell that shit!

Supermodel Step 3: Sign a contract for mills.
Refuse to sign autographs, marry a musician
and have an affair with my personal plastic surgeon.

Wow. I think I've just mapped out my own plan for a cushy retirement. I should be ready in about 5 years, by my math. Well, as long as I don't keep spending it like crazy.

And that's where my FAIL ALERT starts blaring.

Confession: Spending is my weakness. In fact, I braved a thunderstorm just to be at Target when they opened, in order to snatch up some of Prabal Gurung's collection on last Sunday's debut.

Clearly, they surpassed the "Want" category
and fell into the "Need" category. Loves it!
It's totally okay though. I mean, I was extra-smart about it and only bought what I needed. (What I need may be topic for debate, but there's no time for that right now, loveys-we're too busy saving money!) Anyhoo, I was also careful to buy it in a size too small, because that's the practical way to lose weight, duh. I also only bought a couple of items so they could easily be stashed in my closet, carefully hidden among all the other dresses I've collected over the years that I still can't squeeze into.
Not spending is the tricky part, loveys.

So now what?

*taps foot*

Well don't look at me! I came up with all the ideas for bringing home the moolah so it's only fair that you come up with the ideas for saving our coinage.

Just let me know when you've got some good ideas. I'll be over here on until then.

Monday, February 11, 2013


Hello and happy Monday, loveys!

Weekend treated you well?

Mine was fabulous, thanks. I had the chance to watch my current pretend-girlfriend, Melissa McCarthy, in her latest film, IDENTITY THIEF.

Funniest-ever story of someone ruining another's life.

Oh. My. Gosh. If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend that you do. I laughed my mascara off.

And I learned so much! For example, my pretend-girlfriend is actually a runner. For serious. She could very likely kick our asses in a 50 meter sprint. Check out this action shot of my girl:

"Breathe in through the nose; out through the  nose."
Also, a pretty good part of the movie is set right here, in St. Louis.
Score 1 for the Lou!

Treat me in St. Louis.

Eric Stonestreet has a small, yet hysterical part in the flick, which causes the whole thing to overflow with awesomesauce.

"Foxhole is the safety word!"

This entire cast is amazing.

*winks at the screen*

"What's up, T.I.?"

*crouches down to blow his short self a kiss*

But still nobody holds a candle to my girl Melissa. And can I just tell you how I'm absolutely infatuated with dimpled cheeks? (Sidebar: You ever notice how dimples can make even the biggest asshole project a sweetheart vibe? Super-smart con by all the dimpled assholes out there, by the way.)
Anyhoo, that doesn't apply to my gal. She rules. I love her curls, her blue eyeshadow, and even her voice. Adoration alert!
What's not to love?
Now that you have a clear picture of just how much I heart her, you'll understand the degree of seriousness when I confess to you there's one person in this film I loved just a teensy-weensy-smidge more.

It wasn't my fault though. I had no idea my future ex-boyfriend was in this movie. None. (Otherwise, I'd have worn an extra pantyliner and not gone to see the movie with my freaking brother.)

**DISCLAIMER: I must give fair warning to the atheists reading this, because what I'm about to show you will probably be all the proof you'll need to realize that yes, there is most definitely a God.

Behold, Morris Chestnut:

Oh, sweet Jesus!
Enjoy your week, loveys. And if you need a laugh, go check this movie out. You're welcome.
Helena Chestnut

Tuesday, February 5, 2013


Today I was thinking about my old teenage days. Days when I literally counted down till I'd be grown-up enough to move outta my parents' house and finally - finally - be on my own. I was a senior in high school, ready to take on the world, and naturally, I knew pretty much everything. What could possibly go wrong?

Ah, the sweet feel of independence was mine!

I planned to live life to the fullest.

Party time!

Independence rules!

So out I went.

Didn't take me too long to realize that independence can be a tad scary. I mean, it's kind of nice being totally on your own, but at the same time...Dude, you're totally on your own.

I'm eating Ramen noodles like it's my job.

Getting out there and doing things for yourself can be a scary thing, loveys. It takes guts and will and heart. That's why I so love our independent musicians, artists, and, my personal fave, authors. It's an extremely tough gig, spending months (or even years) writing one book, only to shop it around and have it rejected by agents or publishers.

"What do you mean you don't like my book?"

It sucks cactus.

But our independent authors have taken their work's fate into their own hands, by investing their own money (which can be thousands of dollars, by the way) in order to self-publish. They write, edit, format, find a cover artist or design their own cover art and build up their social networks. And then they have the arduous task of getting the word out and hopefully getting enough people to buy it to cover their costs. Something I'd never have the nads to try myself.

I can't tell you how many independent gems I've found through networking on Twitter or searching Amazon, but there are loads. Authors whose work I'd have otherwise never found if I only relied on the bestseller lists or some retail store. Just to name one, there's this chick, G.P. Ching. My fave of hers is The Soulkeepers:

Crazy-good read right there. You should check it out.

Today another author I know celebrates her release day. I haven't had the chance to read it yet, but I am still super-happy to share in her excitement. After all the hard work, all the time and money she's invested, I invite you to check out Kizzy Johnson's book, Coffee Shop Therapist.

Whenever you can, loveys, I encourage you to support our independent peeps. It means all the difference to them, I promise you.

Some days I wonder if my books will ever get out there. I still remain hopeful, but most times that hope is smothered out by doubt. So I have to bow down and give major props to my author and artist friends who put themselves out there, claiming their own independence.

*extends hands* *offers major props*

Monday, February 4, 2013


Well, hello there, lovey. Weekend treated you well?

I don't know about you, but my February has been super-duper busy. And to think we're only a few days in! Please excuse me while I try to catch my breath.


Ah, that's better, thank you.

I've even been fortunate enough to hire an assistant this month, but I'm still always in a constant state of breathlessness. What gives?

And don't get me wrong; this guy's been awesome. Always here, fussing over me and nurturing my every whim and fake heart attack. Offering CPR when I complain of not being able to catch my breath.

He's a total sweetie and I hate to be the bad gal here, but I think I'm gonna have to let him go, loveys.

I'll never get anything done if I keep this guy around:

"What can I do for you, boss?"
You see? There it goes again. Back to being breathless.

Have a great week, besties.