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She Said, “I Didn’t Have on my Glasses..”

 

 

 

 

 

Sooo… It’s Conversational Mondays… and this page is looking a little less than conversational right…

Yeah I know…

Don’t hate me here, but I moved again. I pinky promise this is the last move I’m going to make ever, because boy is it EXHAUSTING. But look at me all set up with my fancy domain name and everything… it’s pretty awesome…

So if you want to know about my current drama please make the jump, and update your bookmarks, google reader, etc here http://imprettysurethat.com/?p=174

Otherwise you can just re-read this page over and over again until you can’t take it any more… it’s up to you…

 

Mad love to my girl yougotsars for all the help with moving things around…

 

Please come see me. I promise not to answer the door naked. Unless you’re into that sort of thing……

 

xoxo

Becca

 

 

 

 

 

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Nice Work If You Can Get It

Ok snarkdoodles!

So here’s the thing…. I won an award! I’ve been seeing this award float around all week and have been pretty green with envy that I was not a lucky recipient, but lo an behold, my beloved Angie over at http://www.angie-uncovered.com/ saw fit to bestow this honor upon me and well just so you know I’m having my Crown and Scepter fabricated today (because that’s what everyone does when they receive an award, right……………….)

So without further ado, the award………….

Yes I agree, it’s pretty fucking magnificent, and I can live with the pea soup green color. It’s been rocking my world all day long. And so with a great award, comes great power…. or um er responsibility right?  A couple of reward rules to follow here…

So the lovely, charming, witty, classy, silly, introspective Angie gave me this wonderful award because as she says:

“I fell in love with Becca awhile back and then she went and became my hero with her 1/2 marathon and Tiffany’s bling. We bonded over the idea of one day wining and Skyping… and now, well now it’s just a matter of time before we’re both on at the same time. She cracks me up and she will do it to you too. Oh AND… She swears. I love swearing.”

Awwwwwwwwwwww…. first of all I am total whore glutton slave lover of compliments, and this is one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Angie is DA BOMB. Drunk skyping is genius, and she’s always starting the wine party on the Twitter. Angie is always giving out the latest and hottest relationship advice which I pretty much live by (ok not really, but ummm yeah ok really).  The best thing about Angie though is that she’s not afraid to get honest, and shed the silly exterior for a deep introspective look around, and I admire that about her soo much.  So if you’re not plugged in to her blog now, march your butt over and dooooo ittttttt……. or I’ll have to bust your knee caps with pencils.

That aside, the rules say you now need to know Some Things About Me you didn’t know before… where to start….

Some Little Facts (most of you) Don’t Know About Me, Myself and I
1. I was on the High School Speech and Debate Team (yeah fine, laugh it  up losers)
2. I have never once in my life smoked pot (I swear to GOD this is true)
3. I’m at least 20 pounds over my ideal weight (FREAKING KIDS)
4. I have this softer side of me that you know is actually a really nice person (she comes out to play sometimes)
5. My husband is an ex-Marine (you would never guess it though, really….)
6. I got married when I was pregnant with my daughter (no it wasn’t a shotgun wedding)
7. We had a civil ceremony (ok maybe it was)
8. One of my legs is slightly longer than the other (what… don’t get judgey, it really screws me up sometimes)
9. I love Almond Rocha (almost as much as I love Toblerone)
10. I despise nuts in cookies (but I love honey roasted peanuts)
And now… I gots to spread the love…. I hereby re-award this award to:
1. YouGotSars.  This is my cousin, maybe even my missing birth sister. She’s funny, snarky, drinky, and oh God Lord in Heaven her SHOES!!!!! I love her shoes!!!!!!!!!! She’s also insightful, kind, and all sorts of interesting. Check, check, check her out because she’s damn well worth the read. Besides, she does all the heavy lifting around here and without her help we’d be curtainless and cold……….
2. Flourish in Progress.  This chick has already gotten this award several times, but still her awesomeness can’t be denied. It’s takes a real OG to give up shopping for year and to not steal shorts (even if sequined) from the Neiman Marcus. She even started her own gang. Doesn’t get any more hood than this.
3. Oh Noa.  If you’re not reading this blog, we cannot be friends anymore. Seriously. No, I don’t want to hear it, go over there right now, read, laugh, choke on your spit from laughing and come back here to report. Noa is a fucking comedic genius.  Her flowchart on deciding if you were wearing actual clothes has been printed and taped to my bathroom mirror for future reference. She cracks me up all the time……..
4. Chicktuition. Girlfriend got herself in the freaking URBAN DICTIONARY, and has to date managed to not be eaten by crocodiles on her bike rides. She also likes to frequent cemetaries and her garden fixtures get stolen a lot. She also has this cute pink chick, and who can resist that. I can’t, I’m a sucker for cuteness… (probably how I ended up with two kids)
5. TazerWarriorPrincess.  So this hooker right here already got this award, but I can’t stop myself from re-giving it to her because she is so damn sarcastically funny, which I love, because that’s my type of funny. Who else do you know that can make a SPORK funny? That’s right no one. So go see her today and tell her I said, “Hey gurl……..”
6. WagTheDad.  Ahhh Shane, the ever pragmatic opportunist.  He didn’t miss a beat when he posted about his blog whores, mohair suits, playing doctor, and whatever else comes into his little mind… It’s twisted and dark and funny in there, but I like it. He never fails to make me laugh and make sure I don’t get caught reading his blog at work.
7. DeadCowGirl.  So this is not for the faint of heart. This funny, open, honest woman discusses a lot of sex (what she’s a Dominatrix for crying out loud), motherhood, and the joy and heartbreak of trying to concieve again. I find her brave in the midst of controversy, and funny in the midst of heartbreak. Go see her, give her some love, and get some advice……..
SO there you have it darlings……. go out read and report back here, maybe even tomorrow since I have an update on The Yellow Submarine, Costco, and The Weekend…..
xoxo
Becca

At Five Years You Get A Handshake, Right????

So snarkdoodles,

Today is my Five year wedding anniversary to the phubster. I actually can’t believe it’s been five years of being married, and 8 years of being together. My sister in law (the phubster’s sister) told me that I’ve been around their family for way to long and that I should probably think about packing up my shit and leaving.  (Reading that makes her sound like such a total bitch, but I assure you that she was totally kidding, I think….) She’s probably right, I have been around for a LOOONNGGGG time.

Long enough to see her get her license, graduate from High School, get married, and have kids, and well not particularly in that order…

Long enough to be there when the phubster’s brother passed away from Leukemia….

Long enough to watch his other siblings grow up as well….

Long enough to go through three other girlfriends with his other brother before he finally settled on his wife…

Long enough to be there when the phubster’s last remaining grandparent passed away…

Long enough to be there for the birth (ok not literally there, but you know what I mean) of my two nieces and two nephews….

Long enough to get into a major fight where we almost got divorced…

Long enough for us to both really hurt each other, and then learn how to forgive and how to move on…….

Long enough for us to have our two wonderful children….

Long enough for me to overlook the sound of his teeth clacking together when chews his food… (what… this is a MAJOR issue for me)

So  the question is what do you get a guy you’ve been stuck with for so long. The phubster is one of those notriously hard males to buy anything for. He’s always telling me God Awful bullshit like, “I don’t need anything, you’re everything I would ever need,” and, “honestly, I would rather have you spend the money on something you want for yourself.” I mean WHAT.THE.FUCK. Seriously?! FUCKING SERIOUSLY…. Do you see the kind of bullshittery games he likes to play here……

GAH.

Sooooo…. I think I decided he can just have a handshake and a pat on the back, because that’s what you get at five years right? RIGHT. Truth be told I’m stumped, and we’re going to dinner tonight so I guess I’m also out of time. Is it considered cute if I hand make a card at my desk with my highlighters? It’s the thought that counts right…

Shit. I’m so screwed…………

But in a moment of seriousness…. To the phubs… the man who puts up with my snark, my out of control spending (i.e. I did not die after spending my retirement at Costco this weekend–>a post for another day), my crazy schedule, or insane kids, takes care of the doggies, and still finds time to make me laugh, and feel special everyday; just like the first day we met. I love you, and I know I don’t deserve you, but that’s ok, because I’m pretty sure that you don’t deserve me either, which probably means we were made for each other. Besides who else would put up with your clacking teeth…

XOXO Happy FIVE!

Code-name: Yellow Submarine

Why hello there…

Before we begin this communique I need to verify that you know the secret pass code, ok…

Sometimes the Rain In Spain…

Hmm… what’s that? You don’t know the secret pass code.

Well I guess that’s ok because at the end of this transmission I may just spontaneously combust. (What, you didn’t know I was combustible did you…) Lately I’ve been working on a little project that is slowly sucking my soul dry…

It’s very cloak and daggery (Ok not really, but hey I got to spice it up somehow, just smile and nod ok). I’ve been roped into being my little sister’s Maid of Honor for her last-minute, totally on the fly, going by the seat of our pants, might just make it by the skin of our teeth (like all those little cliché phrases– me too, me too) nuptials on the 20th of this month (and yes if you’re actually following me, I got the dates wrong in a prior post, and have since been reamed told that it is actually on the 20th, and not the 19th).

It’s a small wedding, with a total guest list of 30 people who have all RSVP’d. It should be nice, it’s going to be on the cliffs in a fancy shmancy part of San Diego, overlooking the beach, and then off to a really nice Italian restaurant/club/lounge place for the reception. Barring gale force winds and rains it should actually be lovely. But before we get to the lovely, trying not to cry while holding both bouquets part there’s a lot of planning and running around and making arrangements and sobbing hysterically in my beer stuff to do.

Last night I spent 4.5 hours at the mall with the bride to be (code name: Yellow Submarine) looking for the “perfect” pair of shoes to go under the wedding dress. Around hour 2 I suggested she just go barefoot, and almost got pushed down the escalator (ok not really, but if she had the power of telekinesis I would have gone flying…). At hour 3.5 I suggested she get whatever pair of shoes she wanted because who the hell is going to see them under the dress anyway… this was also met with utter disdain, tears, and a tirade on why “I don’t care about her or her big day.” At this point I checked out for a while and threw back Happy Hour Beers at the Red Robin.

40 minutes later I found her in Macy’s, trying on a pair of shoes that had nothing to do with the holy grail quest we were on before, and lo and behold the wedding shoes mission was over. She finally settle on a pair of shoes that she liked and that were comfortable because as she so nonchalantly said, “who’s going to see them under the dress anyway.” (PALM TO FOREHEAD, SCREAM, REPEAT)

We left as the mall was closing, and I felt like I had just gone through a small civil war.  I then spent my sleeping hours dreaming about ugly shoes that were trying to squish me. UGH.

That was just our shoe experience. We have yet settle on the final jewelry for the dress, pick up the wedding night attire (to put it politely. I also told her why bother it’s only going to stay on for 5 minutes or so to which I received the “if looks could kill you you’d be dead” glare…) and a whole bunch of other little odds and ends…

Please make it stop, I’ll tell you anything you want to know!

Anyway, the only thing I have going for me is that it’s all going to be over in three weeks, there’s an open bar (thank you Daddy!), and that I get to have my hair and make-up did… if I make it that long

(Don’t tell anyone, but I may consider defecting for the right amount of booze….)

So, ever deal with a bridezilla, last-minute wedding, God Awful colored Bridesmaid dress… how’d you keep your sanity and sobriety? Do share, PLEASE!

And Then He Said, “Roast Them…”

Ok, and aside before we get started here… since I just moved in and all, I’m still not sure what colors to paint the walls, and where to place what, so if you come around a lot don’t be surprised to see lots of changes and things until I’ve settled on what I think shall be a nice cozy home for us here.  Yes, things are looking a little undone, but please don’t get all judgey, yet…. thanks xoxo!

 

It’s that time again…

CONVERSATIONAL MONDAYS

And while I thought I would bring you a delightful retelling of our weekend festivities, but between my yellow submarine duties, and attempting to set up shop here, I’ve been woefully lacking in the delightful department.

In fact the best conversation I can hope to bring you is this…

We carved The Little Monster’s Pumpkin this weekend and the phubster and I had a difference of opinion on it.  As per usual, he may have won the battle but I won the war.

Phubs (Ph): Hey are you going to get to that pumpkin or what…

Me: Um… excuse me?

Ph: You heard me, woman (this was said with a good humored smile, and devilish twinkle in the eye)

Me: Aren’t you supposed to draw the picture on it first there genius, and what guy can’t carve a pumpkin anyway…

Ph: It’s not that I can’t carve one, it’s just that you’re sooo much better at it than I am…

Me: Or really it’s because you don’t want to have to scoop out the guts and stuff…

Ph: That may be true

Me: Hurry up and draw the damn picture then

Ph: You can’t hurry the artist

Me: Hell yes I can (mencaningly weilding pumpkin carving tool)

Ph: You realize you can’t even cut a peice of bread with that right

Me: Don’t make me shank you

Ph: You couldn’t anyway

Me: I could get a different knife

Ph: you’re so violent, fine I’ll draw the picture, can you get me a crayon

Me: (rolls eyes, make Psycho knife motion with pumpkin tool)

Ph: Fine, why do I have to do everything around here

Me: Because drawing a picture on the pumpkin is doing everything

Ph: Pretty much

Me: You really don’t want to live through the night do you

Ph: Here’s your picture, now get to cutting

Me: Ohhh I’m gonna cut something….

Ph: The pumpkin

Me: Fine… (storms off to the kitchen)

Ph: And while you’re at it, can you roast them…

Me: Roast what…

Ph: You know

Me: No I don’t know

Ph: The seeds………

Me: Oh yeah sure, why don’t I just Martha Stewart all this shit up

Ph: that would be preferred……

At this point I may or may not have thrown pumpkin guts at the phubster to shut up his tirade on pumpkin seeds. He may or may not have retalitated by picking me up and smearing pumpkin guts in my face. I may or may not have started screaming like someone was ripping off my limbs, and then choked on a pumpkin seed while the phubster gleefully laughed, until he realized I was actually choking and then he got all serious and red faced and apologetic…

Or at LEAST he thinks I was actually choking….

And that is how I wound up with a foot massage, and dinner out….

He’s totally not onto my game.

I’m a super evil master General when it comes to this shit…

The pumpkin turned out ok, and I did roast the seeds in the microwave, because I’m sort of lazy, but they turned out pretty good too. Better watch out Betty Crocker, Imma get you!

So how was your weekend, pumpkin carving, Halloween parties, pretend choking? Do tell……

Movin’ On Up…..

Oh snarkles,

I’m so glad you found me. You see my blogger bloggypoo went fucking beserk on me, and so I had to switch it all up, and jump on over here to wordpress.com (which should not be confused with wordpress.org, I spent some time wondering why the fuck I had to download shit… I know, I am woefully ignorant today…..).

First things first and great big old SHOUT THE FUCK OUT to YOUGOTSARS! That hooker has revolutionized my world by letting me know how fucked my blog was and that I should just move over here, where all the rest of  ya’ll hang out.  Thanks for looking at my html and shit. You’re the bomb.

I’m assuming it’s going to take me a little while to get all comfy and cozy here, so just be patient, and thanks for making the move.

In the mean time, did I ever tell you about the time I went to Target and my son spilled something down the back of my pants and it look like I peed myself?

No….?

Oh well you see…. I had to go to Target I went to Target after a truly tragic shopping incident at Alberston’s where I was told that I was traumatizing my child by sprinkling water on her face. I thought a trip there would make me feel better, but oh how I was wrong.  I gathered up the kiddos, and in we went to my very own air conditioned red and white heaven.  The first 20 minutes or so were bliss, idly perusing through the cosmetics isles, checking out the kids clothes, and oh yeah I did need some more All Purpose Cleaner.  I grabbed two spray bottles and sat one next to The Crybaby, just for safekeeping you know…

We continued our leisurely jaunt through the store, and then I got entranced stuck in front a shelf of Tupperware. Glorious little plastic novelties screaming my name, begging me to run my finger over their textured surfaces (naughty little bastards) completely had me enraptured in their PBF free awesomeness. I was so engrossed that I failed to notice that with super human strength The Crybaby had lifted the spray bottle next to him and was dangling it precariously over the edge of the cart, right by my feet, and with a snide little smile threw it at me.

Since I wasn’t paying attention it bounced off of my leg, shattered on the floor and the rebound from the spill soaked the back of my shorts.  The Little Monster who had been playing with a Hello Kitty Gardening set then came over, and squealing decided to yell, “mommy, did you pee yourself?!” and point at the same time.

No dignity left I went in search of the nearest store associate, apologized profusely and left, while everyone stared at me, and pretty much had a look on their face which said, “oh my god, that woman peed herself.”

Lesson learned: Tupperware is the devil.

So snarkdoodles, ever for real pee yourself, or spill on yourself so you looked like you peed?  Let’s share and care…..

If You’re Still Standing That Means You’re Not Dead Yet

Posted on
Oh my lovely little snark doodles…. contrary to popular belief, I am not, in fact, Dead.

More like I’ve been on a short hiatus, recovering from killing myself by participating in the Nike Women’s Half Marathon, and then getting ready to start my new job, and spending some much needed quality time with my kiddos, because while I am super excited about my new job, I also signed something somewhere along the way that says I will not take any time off (unless I am legitimately ill) for the first 90 days of my employment. So that means I’m pretty much stuck in the coal mines, for the rest of the year…. sigh….

But enough about that. What you really want to know is all about my marathon right….So prepare yourselves for a cautionary tale of woe and misery. (We could be here a while, so maybe uncork yourself a nice bottle of wine, and for all my homies, open up the stopper on your box ‘o wine– don’t hate, appreciate).

On Sunday, October 16th, in the year of our Lord 2011, I ran (and by ran I mean barely jogged and walked) the Nike Woman’s Half Marathon. Myself and 22,000 other participants lined up in the streets around Union Square in San Fransisco by 6am, got crushed by the swelling crowds, got our ear drums blown out by the loudspeakers, and by 6:58 am I was this odd mixture of oddly excited and completely terrified. I placed my ear buds in my already sensitive ears, pushed the volume to max and got pumped up by Fergie’s “Here I Come.” Our corral crossed the official start at 7:11am.

Blowing out my eardrums at 6:30am

As feet hit the start line elbows started flying, runners taking off, pumping their arms back and forth, every inch of the street covered in excited women, finding their rhythm, excitedly chatting to their friends, concentrating at the task at hand.  My friends had already passed me up, and I was working on controlling my breathing, finding my rhythm, and cursing at myself. Right about the first half mile I had a great conversation with myself that went something like this…

Me1: Wow it’s a nice cool morning
Me2: What the fuck, i mean what the fuck are you thinking, we’re half a mile in and our chest already hurts
Me1: It’s not that bad, and we’re only half a mile in. We’re doing ok.
Me2: Ahh, watch out, elbow!
Me1: just got to duck and weave
Me2:oh you’re fucking hopeless.

The first five and a half miles went as planned. I ran at my pace, kept my shoulders back, remembered to just keep breathing, and enjoyed some of the scenery. While others were taking spills left and right (shifting air currents ya’ll), I was (amazingly) avoiding any major pitfalls and keeping up my target mile time: until I came to The Hill. Let me preface this by saying that anyone who had visited San Fransisco is surely aware of the “Hills” or mini mountains that make up the city and its outskirts. I knew the course was hilly, I had seen the map and elevation, and yet I still foolishly believed that these hills would not be the end of me. Oh how I was wrong.

The view from mid-mile 5, it was breath taking, I think I felt like barfing

The first hill claimed it’s place in my heart as the mountain that broke my running streak. By mid-hill my thighs were trembling, my ankles threatening to turn underneath me, my calves straining.  When I finally crested this behemoth I was greeted with a 200 foot plateau before descending into the heart of darkness and walking down another large mountain. I could feel my heart beat in my mouth, and the obscenities that my lower half of my body were screaming at me was enough to even make me blush. Still I soldiered on.

On rubbery legs, the 7th mile seemed easier to tackle, a little flatter, beautiful scenery, it promised some relief and I found the strength to start up my jog again. I had blisters, I felt them biting into the soles if my feet with every step. The hills continued through the winding course and slanted streets, and while the course itself was gorgeous I could feel myself dying as every belabored breath escaped from my mouth.

The view from mile 7, where my feet felt like they exploded…

Thankfully for me and the rest of the participants it remained cool and breezy for the entire duration of the marathon. I’m pretty sure that had the sun come out, or I had taken a tumble I would have had to been golf carted back.

Somewhere around the 9th to 10th mile I started crying off and on, for no particular reason other than I felt like I just had to cry. Many a runner and power walker passed me by with dubious looks on their faces and slight shakes of their heads, as if to say, “she’s so done with.” A few women were polite enough to ask me if i was okay and through my sniffles and snuffles I was able to indicate that I was, and watch them fly past me on Hermes (the Greek demi god, not the designer) gilded feet. As you descend through mile ten along the beach and through the Finisher’s Village (uh huh they actually taunt you with a glimpse of the finish even though you at least have another three mile to go, bastards), two mother daughter teams passed me up (and these daughters were oh I don’t know eight years old or so), and I felt my confidence start to crack and crumble. Whereas I had merely just been in  pain before, and was able to push past it, my mental resolve was now teetering on the very edge of completely failing me, and as mile eleven wound it’s say under my feet I did indeed have a total breakdown, or “hit the wall” as the other runners called it. It went something like this:

Me1: Hey Bitch, just stop, just stop now.
Me2: I can’t, I really can’t. Almost there
Me1: You’re going to collapse right here and die, and no one will find you, and everyone is going to point and stare
Me2: That’s true, maybe I should– no I can’t stop, must keep going….
Me1: Look you almost finished, our fucking legs are done with, you’re going to have to amputate them. You’ll never walk again…
Me 2: Amputate?
Me1: That’s right Bitch, I said amputate…
Me2: That would be kind of horrible
Me1: No Shit
Me2: But we’re so close to finishing, we can do this
Me1: You think you can do this, until we’re walking around on stumps because our feet spontaneously combusted.
Me2: Feet don’t spontaneously combust….
Me1: You never know….

And so the conversation went on back and forth, until I realized that I had reached the end of mile 11, and with one mile to go I was home free.  The promised 12th mile of “Chocolate” was in fact two large tables that had about six boxes of individually wrapped squares of Ghirardelli chocolate dumped on them, and did not live up the to the Willy Wonka hype I had pictured in my mind.  Also, I am sad to report that there were no fireman along the course offering their studly help, and so my well planned and coordinated  falls and trips were of no avail….

Instead when I finally crossed that finish line, a dumpy looking guy in a tuxedo (whom I suppose was in fact a fireman) shoved the Robin’s Egg Blue little box in my hand and urged me forward.  The race was over. While volunteers were busily shoving things in my face left and right, and wrapping me up in mylar, I was trying to not cry like a baby. At the end of the race I had this overwhelming feeling of just needing to let it all out, and when I saw Ms. VampireS I finally did. I stood there sweaty, hurting, wrapped in plastic and cried.

It felt so good.

Me post race, I know, I know, but I feel TERRIBLE

THE GOODS…

I then proceeded to INHALE the nearest food item I could find.  It was probably mildly disturbing, but Ms. VampireS had the graciousness to not stare, or comment. We limped back to the transportation buses, where I was still running high off adrenaline, and then hobbled back to the hotel room. I remember showering and falling asleep, or maybe it was falling asleep and then showering… at any rate, I missed dinner with Ms. VampireS and some friends, and when I finally woke up I was STARVING.

I decided to massacre my food at The Cheesecake Factory because:

1. It was close
2. I wanted to overindulge

While committing my food desecration people stared, I mean one person ordering three food items and a milkshake is a bit excessive, but for the most part, the rest of the participants easily identifiable by their silver Tiffany’s badge of honor just kind of nodded in an appreciative sort of way, and let me continue to pig out.

Overstuffed and in starting to really feel the damage I had done to myself, I paid my bill and stumbled out.

I have never slept sooo soundly in my entire life.

The next morning when I went to get up, I have never been in so much pain in my life.

It would take me a week to be able to walk correctly again.

I am proud of my accomplishment, but highly doubt I will do that to myself again, only because I like walking without wincing. I would recommend it though, to do one at least once in your lifetime, and trust me, if I can do it, anyone can…

So there you have it Snarksters, the race and my life in review. I’m settling in here (my new job) nicely, and cozying up to my new nonsensical title even better (Director of High Muckety Muck Mucks)…. so I’m officially back bitches………

Oh hey, did I mention that my sister is getting married on Novemeber 19th, I’m the Maid of Honor, she’s putting me in yellow, it’s outside on the beach, and every episode of Bridezillas has not prepared me for the horror she’s unleashed on my life………..

Oh no?

Well consider yourself forewarned….

So what have you all been up to while I was away? Please fill me in because I get bored easily and always need new reading material.