I got out for Girls Night last night. We saw “He’s Just Not That Into You.”
The movie was cute, just exactly the kind of thing to see with girlfriends. Don’t drag your man, he doesn’t need to be tortured with this one. If you’re going to make him see it on Valentines day, well, you’d better at least… nevermind.

Forget the recognizeable cast. I spent the whole movie watching the eyebrows. Yes, eyebrows.

I am mis-mactched. My hair is fine, wavy, and blonde. My eyebrows are coarse, thick, and b-l-a-c-k. They should name mascara after my eyebrows. I’m just a wee bit self consious about this. Thanks to the miracle of digital photography, I can’t escape The Eyebrows. This is my engagement photo, the one that My Dear Husband put in a frame and placed prominantly in our livingroom!
Be afraid! Be very afraid!

If I was a muppet, I’d have Bert’s black eyebrows, and Zoe’s feather-blonde hair. My eyebrows could be their own Muppet character, like Oscar’s pet worm Slimey.
(Why isn’t there a Muppet Avatar maker? There’s one for building your own Southpark character, Simpson’s character… why not a Muppet? It would really help me make my point, right about now.)

I’m going to have to do this the hard way. I was watching the movie, and the whole time, I was obsessing. “Should I try to shape my eyebrows like Jennifer Connelly? Or maybe Drew Barrymore? Jennifer Goodwin gets away with ultra-thin eyebrows… Maybe I could try to mimic Scarlett Johannsen’s? Sasha Alexander’s? Forget Jennifer Aniston, I don’t have her bone structure.

I’ve been to dozens of astheticians, and I find that even they are puzzled about how to manscape wax me. And, of course, when I try to groom them myself, I end up with a bald spot. ON MY EYEBROWS! Because I’m a classy lady. I’ve tried stensils, scissors, drawing “borders” and plucking, arching, bleaching, yanking…

My son sprouted eyebrows at three months. Threemonthsold! I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.

Yesterday, I dropped the car off at the mechanic for the 100,000 mile tune up, smog, and an oil change. Oh, yeah, and a new timing belt. While I was waiting for the car; I walked the dog over six miles, and found a dog wash for $12 (SCORE!). I got home and cooked a nice Canadian Swiss Chalet dinner for DH, (isn’t it like Victoria day or something this week?). I think I managed to take out the trash before I collapsed on the couch.

Today is a new day, with a new list! And, darn it, I will finish this list today! Watch me!

Load the dishwasherand unload the dishwasher too!
Clean out the file cabinet
Put away loose files
Call about transfering retirement funds
Put stuff on the kitchen counter away
Cook breakfast
Walk Dog
Laundry
Vacuum
Cook dinner
Clean up dinner dishes

My high school sweethart is getting married next weekend. Hooray for him, its about time, and all that stuff.

He’s still a good friend, one of my best friends actually. He just gets me. I got a wedding invitation, and when I went to go look at the registry, all the cool stuff had already been purchased (can we say “C” list, anybody?). The only thing left on the registry that they had in stock was towels. White guest towels.

I hemmed and hawed about buying towels. Then I hemmed and hawed about stuffing them in a sack or making a towel cake… do you make a towel cake for a wedding, or just for a shower? Then I finally decided to buy the stuff to make the towel cake. Then I hemmed and hawed about covering it in silk flowers (as I’ve seen on the net).  Then I hemmed and hawed about making the cake too tall or too wide.

Then I just started rolling towels.

So. Is it done? Do I need to foof it up with more flowers, a cake topper, and trinkets? Or should I just leave it as it is.

This stunned me enough to come out and blog.

A For anybody who is interested: we are moving next weekend, would you like to help?

I threw out my back at work, and so far I’m not allowed to lift over 10 pounds. This is going to be lots of fun.

We don’t have that much stuff (no, really, we can’t fit that much stuff in 650 square feet).
We’re only moving across town.
I can bribe you with food. For those of you celebrating Chinese New Year, I make a mean Hot & Sour Soup.

Oh My Gawd!

Apparantly, its not possible to post in the blogophere this week unless you pick a side on the Momtini debate!

I hate to sound lame here, but can’t we all just get along!? Apparantly not. Ladies, I love you all. I met fabulous people in in San Jose this summer. Fabulous, cool, nice, friendly, ladies. Yahootinis, Momtinis, and that nasty “women’s mineral water” aside; you are my friends. It is killing me to watch you ripping into eachother.

I expect to see heated controversy over an issue like this. Its not that I expect harmonious agreement among Lefties, Righties, Greenies, Attachment Parents, Detachment Parents, Prohibitionists, and the I-Would-Never-Give-My-Child-Artificial-Sweeteners crowds. What I did not expect in my RSS feeds today was to see my peeps attacking eachother! On a personal level! I was horrified to see that the names signed at the end of nasty, below-the-belt comments and tirades were those of my bloggilicous friends.

Is this what it’s like to be friends with women? The first time I saw Beth and Angela do this to eachother in the first grade, I wanted to scream at them and knock their two coconuts together. “Look what you are doing to eachother!” I’m a coward. I announced that I would not play with them for the rest of the day, and stomped home. It didn’t solve anything.

The worst part of riding on the Intercollegiate Horse Show Team was keeping track of which alpha female hated which friend because they were taught to wrap a leg differently when they were seven years old! It was too much to take. I just wanted to ride my horse and go home. Forget friendships.

I’ll admit that when I told DH about the Today Show interview, we did argue over it. We have not settled the arguement, and we do not agree, but that’s no reason to attack eachother over it!

I like ::points finger:: *you,* and *you,* and *you* and *you,* I see wonderful, fabulous and different people. It doesn’t occur to me that *she* doesn’t like *her,” because *they* told *she* that *her* said blah, blah, blah, blah blah. 

It makes me sad. I feel defeated. This is why I was a tomboy as a kid, a loner in college, and I don’t keep up with the girls I hung out with in high school. Why try to be friends with women? If they don’t turn on you, they’ll turn on eachother and tap their feet waiting for you to pick a side. Damned if you do…

I guess I’m horrified to see that friendships are the same online as they are in person. Shame on me, I guess.

I’d really love to take a couple of you and knock your coconuts together! Coconut Momtinis, anyone?

 

Ugggh.

The thing about hobbies is: to get really involved in one, you end up not spending time on the others.  I would really love to find time every day to write, blog, cook, make jewlery, go horseback riding, jog, and finish my wedding album. And lose weight.

Weight? Wait! That is not a hobby!

Recently, I signed up for the weight loss program endorsed by Fergie, online. I don’t have time to go to meetings, and I figured it’d be easier to find information about nutritional data on the site.

Now, I get up every morning and record in my food journal. Then I look at the clock and it’s time for work. No blogging, no bible time, no jogging, just logging my food journal.

I am now officially the lamest person on earth!

This makes me a really great candidate for lively and engaging conversation. Hi, I’m Dink(y), my hobbies are: reading closet organization magazines, walking around The Container Store, and counting POINTS. Uggh! I’m bored with listening to me, I’d rather just keep my mouth shut!

Anyone want to teach me to make small talk? I’ll pay you!  I  don’t know what I want to talk about, let alone what I’m supposed to talk about at social gatherings. I’ll pay extra for the CliffsNotes version: I’m already struggling to hold together 1.5 jobs, a clean household, a healthy diet, finances, and a sense of who I am.

Come back and see the site redesign. Real soon now!

An excerpt from Christmas With My Mother:

“Yes, honey, alchohol and sugar make wine. Its called fermentation. When yeast breaks down, it pisses out wine. When yeast farts, it makes bread.”

Now that I’ve ruined bread and wine for you, here, have a Christmas picture.

Merry Christmas.

At BlogHer this year, it seemed like *everyone* who flew in to San Jose from out-of-state just had to make sure to leave the conference just long enough to go to the Sephora Store. The Sephora Store!

We may get our Christmas photos done today, so yesterday I decided to suck it up and go buy some make up.

It came with a DVD!? On the DVD, a pretty lady says “it takes 30 seconds to complete your whole look,” and then proceeds to spend FOURTY-FOUR minutes explaining how to apply all the stuff.

Huh? Now, I’ve never been a math wiz, but…

Victoria would like to know what kind of advice I have for a single girl.

1. See the 2 books in the sidebar ->
GO BUY THEM!!
I am not making any money by telling you to do so.
The Five Love Languages is good for your relationship with anyone. The point is that sometimes the way we *feel* love not the way the other person expereses love. The book offeres some suggestions for showing other people love in a way that is meaningful to them. It also helps you know yourself.
The Questions For Couples book is a MUST for ANYONE who is planning on marriage or long-term committment. DH bought the book in electronic form. While we were dating, we each answered three questions a day for about a year. The book asks the easy questions first, and gets into the more difficult questions at the end. ANSWER THOSE QUESTIONS, even if its just for yourself. You should have most of those answers at least thought out before you run off and get married to someone who wants completely different things than you do out of life.

2. If he’s really going to be around forever, he’ll be around *next year* too. If you are not ready to (fill in the blank), and you want more time, you have every right to say so. This is not some sort of test that you give a guy to jerk him around, and see how much he really loves you. This is about your plans for your life. You have control, you have the ultimate say over how old you are when you get married, the length of your engagement, and how long you want to wait before having sex.
Like it or not, the converse is also true. If you’re telling the guy that you have to get married right now, and he had better propose before this date… you owe yourself some major introspection time.

::Steps off Soapbox::
Now go visit Victoria!