Shrink Your Fat Zone

When did I get so awesome?

I stole this from my mother's house.

So I could take it. And complete the assignment at my house.

Surely I'm not the only person at home completing at home work out DVD's...right?

Give.

This is literally My Cup of Tea.

To Do Good Hair

Ok I feel like a major blee-och but this is what had happened.

I need to get to the beauty salon. stat.  My fab hair girl {is from Dallas, enough said} left to have a baby {and is never coming back, enough said}.  So last go round they hooked me up with another girl in the Salon. Which was so thoughtful and kind however I am a paying customer and I daresay this hairstyle is no longer "in." {But she thought it was.}

Naow.  Not to be ugly, and hair girl: I love you with the love of Jesus but you are in fact from Syracuse, which there is nothing WRONG with, however it is not Dallas.  So I am afeared your personal tragedy may, in fact, interfere with your ability to do good hair.*  Plus obviously our styles/tastes/backgrounds/and all over everything else/obviously share little common ground. Obviously.

*17 points if you can catch that reference.  If not, google it, there is no excuse to NOT know that reference.

So I call for an Emergent {that's: Emergent, upgraded from Urgent. Which means you better move fast, sister, in the nursing realm.  And if you can't then more than likely someone who can move fast will swoop in and save your a**, your patient's, and  in doing so will probably push your slow self out of the way.  PS: Get over it if you're of the sensitive sort.} 

And I ask MissPriss Phone Answer-er, to pUH lease squeeze me in today, but might I ask who is available.  MissSyracuse?  Oh no, shug, not to be ugly but we can't be doing all that again.  I apologized, and tried to explain myself in a kind and gracious manner that according to my latest research I was not, in fact, mistaken that Rachel's Hair from the mid 1990's was not, in fact, stylish, anymore.  And that arrangements would need to be made as I am in hot pursuit of a sassy {preferably southern. } {Not to be a hater, but it is what it is.} beauty shop stylist.

I had already determined that if she planned on sass-ing me I would pull the, "Oh really, well I'd just hate for this conversation to get around to my neighbor, who happens to own the salon, that would just be a mess, now wouldn't it...?"

However she was accommodating.  Aside from a rude tone.  Which I can tolerate and will {sometimes} as I am not of the sensitive sort.

Judy F.

So the search for child care continues. 

I'm sorry that I'm not sorry.  And I'm also not sorry that I'm posting this as this individual felt comfortable creating this profile, free to be searched {and found} by {myself} the general public.

Josh and I are still laughing.

And crying.

Is this one of those things that is only hilarious if you have a child, subsequently in a serious pursuit of childcare?  Or can it be funny if you have no children but fully respect...good hair and a moderate amount of  professionalism?

Happy Mondee

I hope you had a wonderful weekend.

Naow.  Where do I get this white T?

Evah.

ChanelafterCoco




 

Bleeee-och

I done tooooold ya'll I wanted to vamp up our covered front porch.  SO.  I bought this outdoor resin/wicker/whatever you call it sofa off Craigslist.  Meaning Josh went to pick it up while I made myself busy doing something else because making trips of that nature give me social anxiety.  Thank you Jesus that the baby was sleeping or I was running errands or cleaning a bathroom or blogging or something because Josh said this gem has been living in Honey Boo Boo's front yard.   And her mother "June" gladly accepted our cash payment.

You know what that means.

Go get the bleach.

A shot of the matching table

And the back.

This is how Whitten helped.  Nekkid.  {It was hot out. And yes he wears sunscreen. When I remember.}

Many coats of black paint later.

For picture's sake I threw these pillows on the sofa.  So that you may feel invited to please. come. sit. relax.

 And I will continue to search high and low for a cushion as Josh threw the cushion "For Sale" back onto Ms. June's porch.  Not that I would've kept it.  Because that would also give me social anxiety.  Or maybe just disgustingness anxiety.