typically, i don’t ask for favors, but this is a worthwhile cause.

my brother-in-law is currently a candidate for the u.s. olypmic hall of fame. he is an amazing person. when he was born he was a preemie and suffered some injuries to his spine. however, he has not let anything stop him. he went on to become a great athlete and has won several gold medals and set a record in the 100m race.

plus, he’s also a candidate for the hot sexy bald men club.

PLEASE go to this site, watch the video and vote for him.

http://www.usolympichalloffame.com/?page_id=17#video

http://www.humor-blogs.com/

like, oh my GOD! the party was so BITCHEN! 
i’m like totally freaking out!

…

some highlights:

i finally had the biggest hair of anyone.

at this point in my life, i’m old enough to know better than to drink the mystery punch and not just because it was yellow. 

my costume was vintage 80s adrienne vittadini purchased off ebay for $15. but the really amusing part was that i actually owned this sweater in the cardigan version with pockets, which i seem to recall set me back about $100. that was/is still a lot of beer money.

not only my son, but also my daughter asked me if i was supposed to be a cow.

no one threw up, but “spicoli” slipped and fell on the keg overflow and broke his ass on the tile floor.

i was busting some moves that i forgotten i had. 

no seemed to notice the homoerotic undertones of the dance moves the “choose life” buddies where throwing down, but then i’ve got gaydar like nobody’s business.

… 

oh yeah. my husband wore the original mullet wig i bought…and i kind of noticed this. i’m just saying.

i put this slide show together to commemorate the evening.

if the song sounds a little familiar, it’s because some iconic 90s grunge trio, which shall remain nameless, totally ripped off the guitar riff from what might be one of the best 80s songs ever, without even bothering to give credit where credit is due.

now of the three, one of the guys is dead and another one is … a blogger. yeah, karma’s a bitch. like, totally.

click here for more funny stuff: humor-blogs.com

i’m going to an 80s party this weekend. the invitation asked that we dig deep in those closets and come dressed as we were back in the day. problem is,  no one dresses up for an 80s party based on how they actually looked in the 80s.  they dress how they WISHED they had looked in the 80s.

that’s because most of us, or me anyway, lacked the skills to really make myself resemble anything remotely like what i was seeing on mtv. plus, if you know me, you know i was more interested in looking like a virginal preppy than the material girl.

here’s a perfect example. i found this photo while ransacking the closets.

 

i’m not really sure when this was taken, as i used one of those polaroid instamatics which spit the picture out and it developed right before your eyes, so there’s no date on it. but i’m going to put it right about 1985. 

i’m not exactly sure WHAT i was trying to accomplish, but i’m guessing i was trying to make my hair big. i just wasn’t entirelyremotely successful. i distinctly remember this night and taking before and after shots (no i’m not showing the before) so i know i was trying to doll myself up.

i’m pretty sure i was aiming for something like this:

behold lisa hartman. owner of the best 80s female mullet. ever.

i loved this woman. i wanted to be this woman. i thought she was absolutely gorgeous, and genetically blessed, and she incited a veritable amount of envy in girls, and lust in boys.

anyway, so i decided that i was going to find a way to wear my hair like this to the party. i start rummaging around on the internet looking for wigs, because i figured, since i was never able to achieve that level of awesomeness the first go-around, the second attempt wouldn’t be any better. so i found and ordered this:

 

and then unbelievably, i stumbled across this. WTF ya’ll?

no, that’s not my before picture. that’s my beloved lisa. holy EFFING crap. i spent years thinking if i could just fix my hair i could look like her and NOW i realize, what i really needed was a nose job. 

ok, so now i feel a little deceived but also a WHOLE lot better. lisa really was just one of us after all. i’ve also decided, i’m not going to stress about my hair either. my husband’s going to wear the mullet wig i bought. he needs it more anyway.

pictures will be forthcoming. i promise.

XOXOXOXO

mullets are always in style at humor-blogs.com

***CAUTION! this post contains explicit photos that may not be suitable for children or adults with weak stomachs. read at your own risk.*** 

i feel like ass. hammered ass to be exact. and it’s all self inflicted. i’m sure you’re wondering why someone would intentionally subject themselves to feeling like hammered ass, so i guess i’ll tell you.

it all started with a picture. this picture, to be exact. there, do you see it? my neck. or what’s left of it.

i’m a pretty tiny person, but i guess when you have two kids and top out in hindenburg-like proportions twice in five years before shrinking back down to normal, something’s gotta give. and in my case, i just blew out my neck. 

plus this whole middle age thing has been bugging me, so i decided it’s finally time to start the renovation. when i broached the subject with my husband, i got this:

me: so i was thinking i’d like to have my neck, you know, fixed.

him: there’s nothing wrong with your neck.

me: yes, there is. it’s saggy and it makes me feel old.

him: how much is this going to cost me? (this is really the crux of the whole conversation)

me: not that much. it’s about $XXXX.

him: what??!! that’s ridiculous! there’s nothing wrong with your neck from what i can see. if you’re going to get some work done, you should get something done that at least i can get some benefit from…like your boobs.

me:   *crickets*  …well, THAT’S interesting because i wasn’t AWARE that there was anything WRONG with my boobs.

him: well, they could always be bigger. you know… pamela anderson. i’m just sayin’.

anyway, so after he came to, we agreed i could move forward with this.

i’ve never actually had any kind of cosmetic procedures done so i had no idea what to expect. the whole idea of being put under kinda scares me, so i was excited when i found a doc who would perform the procedure using local anesthesia. (here’s some foreshadowing. pay attention.) i’ve had the pleasure of popping out one child without the benefit of an epidural, and anyone who’s done that knows what hell is like. so i figured this would be a piece of cake.

so the day of the procedure, i go in early to be prepped. they give me two valium to “calm” my nerves and something else for nausea. awesome, i think. i immediately pass out fall asleep in the room. i wake up about an hour later thinking it was all over and realized they haven’t even gotten to me.

another hour passes and finally the doc comes in. at this point, the drugs are starting to wear off so i’m starting to get a little panicky but now he’s raring to go. first he gives me some shots in my face to numb me up. a LOT of shots.  then he starts doing some lipo under my chin. he is jabbing this long pointy needle looking thing under my chin which i can completely see (but not feel) and all i’m thinking is, great, he’s going to hit my jugular. he must have noticed i was about to lose consciousness.

doc: hmmmm…..ms. X? you’re looking a little pale. did you eat this morning?

me: no.

doc: you were supposed to eat. nurse, can you please bring ms. X a cookie and some sprite?

so i eat my snack like a good little girl, and then he goes back for phase two. i realize now, that i never really asked him EXACTLY what he was going to do to “tighten up” my neck but now i was at the point of no return. i’m not going to bore you with all the little details but let’s just say there was cutting and the smell of burning flesh, and pulling and tugging and sewing going on.  and then we were all done.

the first day or so i spent wrapped up in bandages and eating darvocet like jelly beans, and i had no desire to even look to see what was underneath the gauze. when i started to feel better, i decided to take a peek. i had several reactions all at once, including holy f*&k, wow, and gee…yellow is not such a good color for me.

i must have about 100 stitches around each ear and they are so tiny it’s amazing. my nurse informed me that as a resident, my doc’s nickname was “the human sewing machine.” effing sweet. the man is good. ladies, this is why you want a board-certified facial plastic surgeon. not some dermatologist who took a weekend class. if anyone wants his number, just email me.

but whoa!!! check out that neck! turkey waddle? gone. even my sister sessie, was *kind* enough to remark, “hey, i remember when you used to look like that!”

and now, i do again, hammered ass and all. thanks sis.

get your spirits lifted at humor-blogs.com

nobody loves a bargain better than me. cheap clothing is something i can live/love with, but ugly cheap clothing is not.

ugly retailing is something i cannot live with either. according to the new york post, the founder of american apparel is being sued for sexual harassment. memo to boss: parading around in front of an employee at work with nothing but a sock on your junk is not OK, unless of course it’s consensual.

plus, his clothes are just plain fug. and fug is fug (unless you are specifically trying to look like 70s jailbait or a $10 hooker), i don’t care how titillating your ads are. if it isn’t clear that this is just a case of a complete jerkoff (albiet with genius marketing skillz) recycling spandex pants, tube tops, dolphin shorts and pro socks into a growing retail phenom then check this out.

american apparel rip-off:

 

the original:

i’m very amused that anyone would be fooled into buying this tired, second-hand garbage when they could save some money by just going down to the local goodwill. because this a serious case of been there, worn that, and it wasn’t a whole lot better the first time. observe.

white tube socks and roller skates are kinda cute on teenage girls, but look a little silly on a grown woman.

                                            

…

linda, linda, linda. i expected you, of all people, to know better.

…

britney spears did not invent the crotch flash, though she may have dragged it down to a place it’s never been before. exposing your nether bits for the camera is old news. good lord, even valerie (have you called jenny yet?) bertinelli did it.

 

… 

spandex is not your friend. even farrah looks paunchy.

 

and we all know what happened to poor freddie mercury. very, very frightening me.

 

… 

wearing a belt with your leotard does not “dress it up.” nor do leggings.

                 

wtf is up with the rags?

(hmmm. in retrospect, it appears jamie lee curtis was a bit of a skeez.) 

…

making some corporate wanker rich is not something i enjoy doing. so, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go clean out my attic. i’m going to make a fortune on ebay.

they like spandex over at Humor-Blogs.com