THIS IS A REAL THING!
Oh, you need a preface. Right.
Frankie, my beloved, loads up a toilet paper roll with the flap hanging out in the back. Now, imagine a world where someone installs your dispenser across from the toilet instead of next to it. Got it in your head? Good. You can go ahead and imagine what an extra 1.5 inches would mean for someone sitting on the toilet swiping to grasp the flap that’s hanging out in the back.
If you want an extra fun picture…imagine this while I was 8 months pregnant. I might have squished Corina down a few inches with how often I had to fight to grab the flap.
I try and explain this to Frankie but he doesn’t seem to understand the logic.
And then this happened.
This changes everything.
Actually, it probably doesn’t. And I don’t blame him, the last thing I want to think about is where the flap on my TP is. But I sit to relieve myself WAY more than he does, so the second I reach for the paper and realize I’ll have to play this game:
It kills my soul a little.
And it’s not just the reaching. I reach, swipe, reach, swipe, grab hold of the flap, get excited, pull, only get one square. Back to reaching, swiping, excited I grasped the flap and then put too much strength in it so I yank the dispenser off…unroll an entire roll….fling the holder across the bathroom….defeated.
This game I play a lot. It probably takes up AT LEAST 25 minutes a week. A WEEK. Do you know what I could with an extra 25 minutes a week?
Mayhap not reach for toilet paper and play this damn game?
I’ll stand by while your head explodes from so much awesome fashion.
The Emmy’s!!!! I was giddy as a school girl last night, watching all that fashion and talent struttin’ its stuff.
It wasn’t 2 minutes in that I already had a page full of notes on some really stellar pieces.
Shall we begin? *twirls mustache*
In The Red of Night
It was like a couture blood bath on the red carpet last night. Too much? Well too bad! Red was splashed and dashed all over the place and my blood boiled with excitement. Very few red dreads failed to please, but I put some of the my favorites/interesting choices above. You had the classic lines like Dreyfus, Klum and Aduba- but Driver drove it home with an embellished neckline and classic cut. Hendricks went a bit garish in my opinion, I didn’t think so seeing her on the TV, but the photos don’t present the fabric well. Cuoco grew on me, the 80’s tule twist wasn’t a big bang for me in the beginning but it fits her well. January took it to new level in a vintage inspired number, keeping it interesting but high fashion classic. Claire….well, the thought is what counts but no ugly crying over it, k?
These weren’t….the worrrrrrst picks…but….I mean…..aren’t they like….neat? That’s the only thing I can say about them. I don’t like them, I don’t not like them…..But the lines….and uh…the symmetry…and like….stuff….meh.
Let’s Paint The Town! Or The Dress!
Nothing says dress like….paint? *squinty eyes* Seems like a common theme last night showed celeb’s artsy fartsy side with painting inspired garb. Each dress was a canvas and while some took to the paint look well…others just looked…like doctor office decor. Bowen’s dress was nice, the picture not so much- this painting doesn’t like blowing in the wind. Dockery didn’t make a mockery out of modern lines and block colors, the dress isn’t my favorite but it’s easy on the eyes. Taissa Farmiga sharpened the competition with a sketched out bodice number that I happened to love, pencil this one in for a favorite. And uh, annoying aunt from Breaking Bad? You’re breaking my heart with that stock painting number.
So Many Dresses, Amiwhite?
I’m not a fan of white, one wrong shadow and you’re looking rather….unfortunate. But with spanx and a stylist, last night proved the color a worthy one. From pant suits to fringe to glittering crystals, this color choice competes with the best of the red. But that last lil lady in the lineup- boom. That dress is straight up perfection.
Tip My Hat To The Top 5:
Laaaaaarvs me these babies. The lines, the cuts, the fabrics, the women inside the fabrics. GAH! I just want to touch them but not in a creepy way….you know what, maybe even creepy, because these dresses bring out something weird and carnal in me. What do you think? You like ‘em?
Sigh. You’re Dress Choice and List Consequence.
And now….for the best part…..BEST DRESSED!!!!
Lizzy Caplan. Mmmm mmmm mmmm. It was tough but the moment I saw this gazelle of an actress, one of my favs on screen ladies, grace the carpet with her perfectly clad body- I knew she was mine to have. Creepy again? K. I’ll stop. But just look at her in all the glory of cut out bodices and perfectly pooling hems. You’re a vision, my dear. Now strip out of that ensemble and get back to experimenting with the horizontal tango.
There were so many choices last night that I didn’t even get to touch on some of them, but if you want to review what I missed just click here.
GUYS! BREAKING NEWS!
While there’s racial turmoil in America, something traumatic has happened: Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon are more than likely divorcing.
This on top of BeyonJay’s impending doom is almost too much to handle. Why do we even get up in the morning?
You know why I get up? Because I have a job. And while you might think getting up and performing as a couple across the world is BeyonJay’s job…or Mariah walking through her closet while Nick hosts 80 shows across cable is their job…you’ve got it all wrong.
Their job is their relationship. Boom.
I haven’t found it yet, but I will. I will found the business deal struck up between two celebrities to keep their reputation going strong. I’m also working to reveal an even deeper conspiracy: the procreation of celebrities for the continuing growth of celebrity population, an effort to keep outsiders from penetrating the secret society of celebrity.
Yeah. Mind blown, right? I see right through all this, RIGHT THROUGH IT.
I’m a danger to them, I know too much. Luckily, my blog isn’t that popular so my know-how is safe within the confines of the few hundreds who partake in my very sane realizations.
You’re welcome for bringing you in to my secrets. May you live feeling more superior than the masses and their ill delusions of happy celebrity couples.
Look. I pride myself on knowing, deep in my maternal state, that I will do anything to protect my spawn.
It’s my duty, my organic make up as someone who grew a living thing inside of my living self.
A bee is involved.
Allow me to explain.
I was faced with a situation where I was with my child and a bee came into our lives. I was saddened to find that I almost ran….away from the bee….and away from my baby. My first thought was not to shield her from tiny stinging harm. My first thought was not to rip her from the confines of her stroller and run screaming mad.
My first instinct was to just leave everything and save myself.
Luckily, the bee found something more interesting than a mother and her child. Luckily, I was able to smooth out of my running stance before anyone around us was the wiser.
Unluckily….my child is not safe with her mother if the bumble murderers are about.
I’m not proud. But this is fact.
An open letter to a new employee:
Dear Mr. Shirt tucked in and pleated slacks wearing headphones I wore in 3rd grade,
Congratulations on your new role here within this company. But a few questions:
Why are you wearing an office outfit from the mid 90’s? Who is allowing you to wear an office outfit from the mid 90’s? Have you met ear buds?
While your clothes are a pressing matter, the intensity in your eyes disturbs me in an “American Psycho” context- and the sheer fact you dress as a character from the book gives weight to my imagination.
I’m not sure if this is all a part of your master plan to fit into the norm by appearing as if you don’t. “Nobody will suspect the man in mid 90’s office apparel, he’s just listening to Third Eye Blind on his cushioned mid 90’s headphones.”
Well played my friend. But I know you know I’ve caught on.
I found you creeping around a corner the other day and I blatantly commanded that you, “stop being creepy”. I believe I’ve been added to your list but I accept that. I’m exposing you now on this blog and it won’t be hard for people in this office to find you….you’re wearing pleated slacks. And you tuck your shirts in too far, so it’s not cool, it’s slightly creepy.
I have a good view of you from my desk and I’ll do what I can to keep this office safe from whatever tricks you have up your pleats. I’ll see if you hide a chainsaw in your desk. And maybe you’re not a serial killer, maybe I’m weirder for staring at you from across the office because you creep me out. But whatever. I’m a martyr. I’ll fall on my weirdo sword to keep others safe.
Perhaps your schtick is working. Perhaps you’re not a serial killer but someone from the past that has come to the future to set something right. Perhaps you’re confused by iPhones and straighter/tighter office pants even though you somehow engineered a time machine. I don’t know.
But I’m equally intrigued/terrified. And I’m equally invested in my desire for you to wear your shirt not as tucked in.
Sincerely the girl who told you stop being creepy,