Hey Shawty

When I was just knee high to a grasshopper I would  kneel at the foot of my bed and pray, not for humanity, my family or even to marry LL Cool J (it was the early 90’s) but that I would grow up to be 5′ 9″  just like Cindy Crawford.  (If that’s not a run on sentence I don’t know what is.  Also, I don’t know what is.)  When I entered my sophomore year of high school at just under 5′ 5″ it occurred to me that God may have other priorities aside from my wish for super model stature.  (He did, however, see that Curb Your Enthusiasm debuted on HBO so there’s that.)

So I did what any other materialistic, image obsessed short stack would do.  I spent every last penny I had buying heels.  While other teens scrimped and saved for college (or beer more likely) I was amassing a collection of pumps no other girl in my high school could rival.  (Yeah, I know!)  In hindsight that may be why my higher education amounts to a single semester of community college.  That may also have something to do with the fact that I couldn’t even qualify for college level math so I had to go to something called a “Work Force Training Center”.  I think the abbreviation for that is D.U.M.B.

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My Story: Corkscrew

So this is really hard for me to write about.  I know I come off as very sarcastic and flippant but I’ve actually been through some very tough times in my life.  I decided to share this story because I know there will be those reading this who can relate.  If I can help even one person than it was worth me writing this.

A while back I was on my way to a hair appointment.  My hairdresser and I have been friends for over 10 years so I usually come in after hours with a bottle of wine.  We drink and gossip while she does my hair and it’s always a good time.  On this particular day I got to the salon around 7pm and headed straight for their back room (where I keep a stash of wine glasses) and reached into my shoulder bag for the wine.  It’s hard to remember anything after that because I blacked out.  Looking back I’ve been able to piece together what likely happened.  In the past I always brought twist top bottles to the salon but on this particular occasion it appears the bottle was corked.  I did not have a corkscrew.  I was (quite literally) screwed!

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My Love Letter To Nordstrom

I could just make a few jokes about Nordstrom’s heave worth flattery tactics or their penchant for stuffing your purchase into the smallest bag possible but that just isn’t my way now is it.

The year was 2007 and I was going through a surprisingly rigorous interview process in orders to land myself a job slinging clothes at Nordstrom. I couldn’t actually afford to wear the clothes I was selling but I considered my status as a Nordy’s shop girl quite desirable.

My first few days on the job were all about brainwashing training, “perception is reality!”  (I wake up in a cold sweat to this day with that mantra ringing in my ears.)    Myself and the other recruits watched some hopelessly outdated videos presented by the HR department (apparently it takes what looks like and old episode of Roseanne to teach folks not to be racist) and we attempted to stay conscious while a grown woman literally leaped around the room like some sort of Nordstrom adult cheerleader. Be aggressive, be be, aggressive!

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Bubbles On A Budget

Obviously a super successful blogger like myself is not on a budget (hello, I drive a 2004 Toyota Scion.)  Jealous?!  You don’t end up in a fine piece of Japanese machinery if you’re not making good choices.   I pay the extra .50 cents for soy in my lattes, I almost always super size at McDonalds and at hotels I only take the shampoo if its high end (can you say baller!!) But I digress.  What I mean is that we aren’t all swilling Cristal like Puffy (I refuse to call him P Diddy because the is embarrassing for everyone.)

I drink champagne for a plethora or “many” of reasons.  (I’m trying to dumb down these posts to appeal more to my target audience.)  I like the bubbles, Heather Dubrow (champs!) and I enjoy that moment of sheer terror when you pop a cork.  There’s just nothing quite like that moment when you pop a bottle and wonder in anticipation if anyone will lose and eye.  Good times!

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Confessions at Kohl’s

I shop at Kohl’s religiously and by that I mean I take communion (Starbucks), there’s a lot of judgement (in the dressing room) and before I leave I give them all my money!  Now let’s all pray I can pay off my card before the second coming.  Amen!

Today I’m sharing some of my fave Kohl’s finds of the summer but before I go any further I feel that I have to be up front with you, my dedicated readers, followers, fans really.  I think it’s important that all 7 of you know the clothes I am recommending are from (don’t you dare judge me!) the juniors department.   Here’s the thing, if you can get away with it and have little to no shame you can find some cool stuff in juniors and it’s so much cheaper than the women’s section.  Plus, you feel really cool when some girl is there with her mom and she’s like “I want this dress” and her mom’s like “no it’s too short” and she’s like “your ruining my life” and I’m like “I’m 30 years old and I can dress like a street-walker whenever I want!”

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Oh Rosé Won’t You Be My Bae!?

Some people remember prom (never went) their first kiss (trying to forget) or to put oil in their car (did you know that’s not a suggestion, I mean you actually HAVE to put oil in your car!)  Who knew!?  When I look back it’s the truly significant moments that stick out in my mind.  My first shopping trip to Nordstroms at nine, the day I got my Starbucks gold card and my first sip of wine!  It was my sweet 16 and my mom gave me a a small pour of Sutter Home White Zinfandel.  That’s right folks, good ole Sutter Home Zin.  That 2001 was quite a vintage (said no one ever!)  Follow that with my  introduction to the oh so chic Franzia boxed wine blush a few years down the road.  It’s like hearing about Britney Spears  for the first time when she shaved her head and then watching Crossroads.

Over the years I’ve matured into a very classy lady with what I can assure you is a tremendously refined palate.  (I can almost always tell the difference between a white or red wine without even looking!)  It occurred to me a while back that the trauma caused by my very unfortunate introduction to “wine” had subconsciously predisposed me to equate pink with plonk.  (Don’t be embarrassed if you have to Google “plonk”, it’s a very sophisticated term only true wine aficionados like myself would know.)  On a totally unrelated note can someone please explain to me in the comments how one erases their Google history???

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The Perfect T-Shirt

I can hardly remember my closet before I found it.  From what I can recall it was a sad and lonely place full of body conscious judgement.  (Does anyone else have a super skinny and bitchy closet?!)  What did I wear on those self loathing days before it came into my life?? (I call it Kardashianitis or insecurity caused by watching too much Keeping Up With The Kardashians.)  Like a bad hangover the only cure for Kardashianitis is more Kardashians.  Bible!  Every girl has had this day (or month!)  You just want something easy to throw on that doesn’t remind you late night Taco Bell runs are wreaking havoc on your midsection.  (Fourth meal is the devil!)

Enter the perfect t-shirt or as I like to call it God’s gift to women!  It’s not fitted, but it’s not frumpy, it’s not a burn-out yet it has that soft perfectly worn in quality along with a necessary droopy front pocket.  I love this t-shirt because I can just throw it on anytime I’m having the aforementioned twinge of body consciousness and I feel instantly chic with no sucking in necessary.  (I literally thought I cracked a rib the other day in a crop top!)

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