Beer, Dogs, and Getting Healthier...: 2015

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

So it's been awhile.

Things. Things have been happening. Oh they've been happening.

So remember when I quit my job? Like in August.
Ya. Pretty much the best move I've ever made.

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Originally, we couldn't find daycare for Dillyn, so we started thinking of alternatives. We crunched some numbers and figured out I could stay at home. Which just made me elated because I pretty much was at the point of wanting to punch my boss every single moment of the day.

Let me play you the song of my people on the way out.

via GIPHY

OK, enough about that.

So yes, I quit my job. And now I have a new boss:

Yup. She classy, and a bit sassy. But I'll take her.

Another thing I wasn't planning on is how much my photography business has EXPLODED. Seriously. Shit's for real folks.

I've done, on average, about 3-4 photo sessions a weekend since I left my full time desk job. THREE TO FOUR a weekend!!!! It's outta control!!!

via GIPHY

Thank you. Thank you very much.

I actually think I'm busier now than I ever was strapped to a swivel chair. And I LOVE IT!!!! LOVE IT!!!!!

I'm having so much fun, and I get to cuddle my snuggle pants D every morning! I get to stay in PJs all day if I want. Or I get to spend the entire day gardening. It's WHATEVER I want to do.....well, after I do the laundry, clean the house, pick up toys, change 45 poopy diapers (no, we haven't started potty training yet....i don't want to talk about it), do the dishes, iron shirts, pick up more toys, vacuum, cook meals, feed a bottomless pit (I'm talking about Dillyn, not Ryan), pick up more toys, go to story time, go to dance, get groceries, pick up toys, vacuum.....did I say that already??? So ya. After all that (plus more, I'm sure) I get to do WHATEVER I want!!!!

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I love it. I really do.

And I love getting to do things like this:

I never thought I would want to own my own business, let alone put myself and my photography 'out' there. But I'm so glad I had and have the support of so many friends and family to help me realize I'm 'good' enough to have a dream like this.....and make it come true!!!!

I know I said this last time, but I really need to get back into writing. It really does help me sort out my jacked up mind and make me feel better. So I'm going to try once again to put writing a priority!!! Get ready peeps!!!!

Cheers!!

Friday, September 11, 2015

It's been awhile.

Thank you Josh for that goatastic internet find.

So. It's been awhile.
I haven't written in forever mainly because I have a two year old who sucks the ever loving life out of me. Truth be told, I wouldn't have it any other way. (Shhhhh, And I can't wait for #2......soon y'all.....soon.)

Oh, and I should probably also mention that I quit my job.

You know.

The super lucrative one that made me millions, my boss wasn't a bullshit lying douchcanoe, and His boss didn't like pansy's like that.

Moving on.

I found out my 'manager' was a liar about 2 years into my job. I finally had the guts to leave that place and shove my special finger up his ass after 6 years.

That was 2 months ago.

I am now a full time, work at home mom, seriously putting myself out there, to partly survive on my abilities to take good pictures.

Fuck my introverted bass-awkards life.

Yup.

I don't know what's more screwed up. Me quitting a job where I dealt with one, possibly two, assholes a week, but the rest of the time i was pretty much left alone. Or the fact that I'm my own asshole now because I'm pushing myself to be the next Ansel Adams. Fuck. Life sucks. But at the same time I love it.

+++++

So here I am.

4AM in the morning. Unable to sleep, because that's what happens when your unstable (at least thats what some people think), or, for some reason , I'm so finally excited about life that you just can't let one second pass.

I remember.

I remember so much about 9-11. It's amazing because I typically don't remember shit. You know. Alcohol and all.

But in the middle of a full blown college party happy hour (at 830 in the morning....no judging), I remember.

I remember waking up for class....which was rare at that time. So rare that I couldn't sleep the night before, so I ended up just getting up early. I didn't go to ONE of those classes that semester.

I remember turning on the news....for some reason that now i can't recall. I remember getting pissed because I just wanted normal news, and every station was playing some bullshit terrorist attack. I didn't realize that it was our Homeland. I remember standing there like a zombie. i remember not believing.
I remember going out on the porch and looking up and down the street and people crying. My friends and neighbors asking ME if what I saw on my TV was real, because they truly thought it was a lie.

I remember wanting a drink but I was too paralyzed to move.

The last thing I remember was holding the remote and sitting on the edge of our couch and not leaving for twelve hours. I don't even think I peed.

I think the worse part was seeing the buildings fall. I mean, I saw that 2nd plane hit, and I was in shock. But sitting there and glued to MSNBC as the towers fell.....well. That did me in.

It was afternoon when I 'woke up'. Wasn't everyone in a trance?! I remember thanking God that I'd filled up the Mustang (god I miss that beast), the day before....even though i could have used that beer money. There were lines to gas pumps for literally miles. MILES.

I also remember a big convenient store getting their ass ripped for over charging....ahemmmmm Daras.

I remember the world changing. i remember FLAGS flying. WITH PRIDE! i'd never seen so much pride. I'd never seen so many American Flags.

I'd lived on this planet for twenty some years. I bet I could count on one hand how many american flags I saw proudly displayed outside homes.

September 12th, I saw millions. I saw red, white and blue everywhere. I saw unity. I saw love. I saw sorrow.

I remember that. All that.
I also remember and will never forget those that lost there lives that day...and days after.
I remember.
And will never forget.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

So, yeah, Howdy.

It's been awhile....I know. Lots going on! Lots! I miss you all and miss reading and writing so much!!! I've thought about it countless times and then, well, life gets in the way.

Well, life and work. Lots of work.
But it's good work!! I've been doing more and more photography and I'm absolutely having the time of my life!

I've recently decided to try and expand my little photo business, and I applied for a grant!! Yippee!!!!! However, I need ya'll's help! If you have a Facebook account, could you please just take a few little moments and vote for me?!?! I need 250 votes to qualify and as of earlier I only have 80 something.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!

I'll love you all LONG TIME!!!!

VOTE HERE!

Here's some of the work I've been doing!! (Get ready, there's lots of examples!)

www.laurabellephoto.com

Again! Don't forget to VOTE!

HERE

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!!

Cheers!

Saturday, May 16, 2015

LauraBelle in Motherhood....Take 2.

So remember when Dilly was born and like 2.5 days later I decided to take her and the dog to the vet? Well, not taking her to the vet, but the dog. You get it. Anyways, taking the dog.......with a newborn. Because i'm badass. And being so badass, I ran out of the house right after I breastfed and apparently forgot to hook up one of the lady saddles. So there I was, flying free. As the 65 year old male vet looked over Wyatt.
Good day for him.
Good day for everyone.

So, anyways, fast forward to today.

I got about negative 8 hours of sleep last night and in an effort to live up to my 'badass' mom status, I decided to take Dilly to the pool today. Normal. Do it all the time. Supersauce.

There we were, just hanging out. You know, sliding down the slide. Splashing around. Trying to get as much energy exerted as freaking possible so that Mama could go home and pass the hell out.....as baby napped too, of course.

And then it happened.

Flashbacks to a time so unhinged that one couldn't possibly repeat it.....let alone top it like a cherry on a sundae.

Damn. Now I want ice cream.

Moving on.

So, I'm getting ready to help Dillyn down the slide for like the 27 THOUSANDTH time.....And right when she gets to the bottom............

..............

......

...

The back clip to my top came unhooked.

WHY DOES THIS SHIT HAPPEN TO ME?!?!

So I grab my top, hoping and praying that no one had the misfortune of seeing 'the girls' fly free.

I mean, seriously, no one needs to see that. Bless their hearts, they're like two little golf balls at the end of a toddler's tube sock. And all these poor people at the YMCA just don't need that in their lives.

Oh wait.....TODDLER!!! Holy Mother of Free Tits, MY daughter just went down the slide!

Yup, there she is, face down, nearly drowning with her little puddle jumper floaty as 'the tube socks' fly free.

SHIT!

So I grab her, and try to grab the girls. And we all try to shield ourselves from any poor civilians that may be of witness.

Unfortunately, there were witnesses. I mean, at least, I only saw one girl directly that watched the entire episode. You just wait my high school bumpkin.....you just wait.....you will be a mom one day and this shit will DEFINITELY happen to you. But I'm sure there were more witnesses. I may have even flashed a right nipple again as I was trying to pull Dilly to the slide stairs so I could get at least both hands to hook my shit back up.

Is it just me, or do other mothers have this much trouble with their boobs? I mean, really. What.The.Hell.

Bottom line is I didn't drown my daughter.
Points for me.
And I might or might not have given the worst boob show to a bunch of stay at home moms, young college kids, and other random boys/men/whothefuckcares. Not to mention all the 'children'.

This is my life.

And it's only fitting I share.

I write once in a year now. And it's all about boobs.

You're welcome. And this is why we're friends.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Dear Dilly...

I've decided to do some letters to my little DillyBean. Someone, I can't remember who, may Jordan? Lindsey? Anyways, someone sent me this link to this blog (that I also can't remember, because this is what happens when you birth a child.....your brain just disappears) that was written to their child in the sense that they were 'Sorry' for all the crap that they 'parented' upon them. Like, Sorry Dorothy, I don't know what the crap I was thinking naming you Dorothy and living in Kansas. You get it right? Right. Cause y'all be smartypants. So anyways, there's been too many times I've thought 'Dear Dilly, I can't believe you're still alive and actually growing', so I decided I need to record these thoughts forever and ever and ever. So that she has the privilege of looking back when she has a daughter some day and know that sometimes shit happens, like banging your daughter's head against the door jam in the middle of the night by accident, but life still goes on.

So here we go:

Dear Dilly,

I realized yesterday, that while you are almost 2 years old and walking around and able to pretty much 'be ok' without me hovering ever single millisecond of the day over you, that I was lying to myself. I know multiple people tell you to WATCH EVERY MOVE your toddler makes and DO NOT ADVERT YOUR EYES FROM THEM for one instant, I just figured that was like, you know, when you were in the bath, or near the stairs when there isn't a gate, or when the fireplace is going. You know. Important stuff. But when you're just hanging out in the living room while I'm trying to make dinner, change for the gym, fill my water bottle, clean up your dinner, turn the stove off because the water's boiling over on dinner, try to get my sock on while standing on one foot and answering the phone when Daddy calls, that you'd be fine. You know, just playing with your toys. In the 'safe' zone.

Ohhhhh, how quickly I was wrong. See, you were eating a fabulously and labor intensive meal of sliced deli meat and tomatoes when you decided that you wanted 'Dow, Dow, DOWWWWW!!!!' Meaning 'down'. Right that freaking second. You were done with your nutritious and gloriously prepared meal and wanted whatever a toddler wants at that instant. Well, you didn't really eat much, and being the person that was raised by my mother, that was raised by her mother, who was raised in the middle of a depression.....you DO NOT throw shit away. At.All. So, bonus for the '1st Child', Wyatt, he gets your left overs and thinks he's King Shit. So there I go, scraping your din-din in the dog's empty food dish and promptly go about continuing the 4700 things I'm doing at one time.

Much to my surprise, Miss Dilly, when I turned around (in what felt like literally 2 seconds), you had just popped something in your mouth and swallowed.

This is what I thought, 'Oh shittlebits, she just ate a crayon again. Christ on a freaking crutch this girl is going to forever poop colored wax!!!'

And let me just stop to say, yes, yes you read that right. You have eaten crayons before. Shit happens. You survived. But that is not the point of this story.

Moving on. I immediately ran over to you and said, 'WHAT DID YOU EAT?! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!' And, being that you're only 20ish months old, you just looked at me with your big blue eyes and then smiled the sweetest smile. You might have even shrugged. Not that you know how to shrug, and it could have been my imagination. But whatever. Then, by some twist of fate, I just happened to look behind you and notice the dog dish.

The EMPTY dog dish.

Oh.My.Holy.Effing.Hell.

My child just ate her food out of the dogs dish. The slobber-covered, small dry dog food remnants covered, dirty as all hell, DOG DISH.

Winning at parenthood right here.

The lesson you can learn Dilly, is that the only thing your mother is worried about when you eat crayons is colored poop, but when you eat food out of the dog dish it almost sends her into a coma-induced state of panic. Not that I could do anything about it anyway, because it's already been ingested, but still. Things like this make me feel like I should be a parent to ALL kids, because clearly I'm doing it right.

I can't wait until someday your child eats out of your dog's dish, so you know the wonderful feeling that it gives you. And when you call and tell me about it, I will laugh. I will laugh so hard.

But for now, DON'T EAT OUT OF THE FREAKING DOG'S BOWL!!! Good God.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Another Epic Tale of the Shittasticness that is My Life.

So you know how I was going to take The Toddler out for a 'jog' on Monday afternoon? Ya, well that didn't happen.
Shocker I know.

BUT! I did get an ambitious hair up my chubby pooper and dug out the stroller last night.......before the Torture Session (aka Bootcamp). I totally get extra points for that or something, right?! Right. Now, mind you, the stroller probably hasn't been used in like months. Mainly because its been a frozen tundra here lately, and there's no need to expose the babe's sensitive skin to that chilly jazz (and I'm not talking about my child here. Me. It's all about Me.)

After I strap her little butt in and I finally get the damn Nike Running app to synchronize it's shit to the satellite and we head off. stupid satellites.

The loop around my neighborhood is about .5 to .6 miles long, so my goal was to do 2 laps. I mean, I know I can be a badass and power through 3 miles on the conveyor belt of death, but pushing a stroller......on a sandy, gravel, craptasticness road, with a nearly 30lb toddler attached, is a WHOLE other story. (Yes, THIRTY pounds. Child weighs as much as a 3 year old. And she's only 18 months. And still demands to be carried everywhere. Which I'm happily doing because that'll help with the Batwings. Totes Awesomesauce. **I was being sarcastic about it being awesomesauce, in case you didn't pick up on that**)

So away we go. I race.....and I use that term lightly....down the driveway and head around the loop. All the while The Toddler is leaning so far forward (to see the tire spin fast), that I'm pretty sure she's going to topple over and take me with her. So I'm reaching around the front trying to reign her back in, I'm still running of course, along with trying to jump over dog shit, beer cans, and other paraphernalia littered along our glorious road. Finally, I just give up. If Miss Sassypants is going to fall out of the stroller, then fine. I'll just deal with it then. mother.of.the.year.

We get about 1/4 of the way around and man, I'm hurting. I mean, my legs are on fire. They feel like the stumps of elephant legs that are stuck in quicksand.
Basically..............I'm dying.

Preach it Sista.

But I push through, like the semi-psychotic fool that I am. And I make it about .4 miles before I'm pretty sure I'm going faceplant the concrete and leave my child motherless in the big scary wilderness. I slow to a walk and actually catch up with some neighbors that I haven't met yet. Praise Baby Jesus for a distraction!!!!! Since I spent about 10 minutes being a little Chatty Cathy.....maybe or maybe not on purpose.....I didn't have enough time to go back around. So sad.

To make a long story short, I plow up the drive way and drop Dillybean in her high chair and zoom off to get my ass kicked by the Queen of Hades.

Good, grand, and wonderful. I'm a rockstar. Three cheers for me.

Fast forward to later that night. I'm sitting on the couch and my dear, sweet, loving husband pipes up and says, 'Hey, was it difficult pushing that stroller around?'

Ummmmm, YEAHHHHHhhhhhhhhhUUUUggggghhhhhhh. Duh. Jeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

'Well, did you realize that all the tires were flat?'

**blink, blink**

'You mean you ran around all that way with flat tires?!?!'

Ohhhh, MuthaF&*ckingCr@pSh!tG$dDa#mnITStupidF&*ckingStroller!!!!!!!!!!

Never would have occurred to me to look at the tires.

Monday, March 9, 2015

At first I was a Marathoner. But now I'm just lazy with a busted pair of jeans.

You know how there are some days when you're all:

I'M GOING TO RUN A MOTHER EFFING MARATHON!!!!

And then like 2.I'mALazyAss seconds later, you're all:

Ya. That's me.
Anyone else with me?!
Thought so.
Procrastinating Pretend Over-Achievers UNITE!

I am, however, still attending Bootcamp 3(ish) times a week. We're into our 5th week. Yippe Skippy for me. Apparently, since I'm working out like a gladiator, my body has decided that I need to eat ALL the foods. Seriously. ALL of it. I can NOT stop shoving junk in my mouth! Oh, there's cupcakes....ok, I'll have 6. Glazed donuts......baker's dozen please. Stuffed Green Peppers......oh, I'll forcefully shovel two large ones in my pie hole. While my 6'5" husband only has 1.5. Yeah. Just ONE would have been enough. Jesus, Mary, and Saggy Asses. GAHHHH!

It's just soooo hard. *enter whiny pitiful voice*

In other news is I'm getting off the juice.

No not the 'roids.

Soda Pop.

Yup. I've gone 2 weeks. Well, I relapsed a little last weekend and had a can of the go-go nectar of the Gods. But I'm still winning in my mind.

Back to Bootcamp.
Otherwise known as Satan's Mistress's Attempt At Torturing The Little People.

You know, some people think it's all:

But it's totally not.
I mean, we work our ASSES off. The little Demon Princess (aka Morgan, Personal Trainer to the Minions) makes us actually sweat! Can you believe that shit?! I know, me either.

Surprisingly, even though I've gained weight and I haven't lost any inches. I do see my pitiful muscles forming. Like, I know that I have some shoulder muscles. And I'm starting to see my Ben & Jerry's (thunder thighs) take shape. And not look like two gigantic watermelons attached to my hips.

Oh, quick note about my Ben & Jerry's. Jerry tried to make a break for it last week. Little bastard. Yup, there I was, about 9:54 in the morning, enjoying a mouthwatering sugar-loaded glazed donut, when I feel a little 'draft'. Or at least I feel like something is not quite right.....down there. Hoping that I just left my fly down, I tentatively glance down.

Farts. (not literally, this is just an expression.)

Yup, Jerry busted a hole in my FAVORITE pair a jeans. Basically going from upper inside thigh to back below my bubble ass. It was about 4 inches. Gives a whole new meaning to 'busted can of biscuits'.

Double Farts.

It's the middle of the morning. I couldn't exactly go home and change because, well, that's just not possible at my lovely place of employment. It's like The Labyrinth here, once you enter, you can't find your way back out. It's a miracle I actually get to leave at the end of my shift......oh wait, no I don't. Because sometimes someone schedules an interview at 4pm. My shift ends at 4pm. Fuck you very much. And it just so happened that the day Jerry tried for a flight of freedom, was my first interview that week. Holy balls, could my day not get any worse.

So there I was, my right thigh just flapping in the wind, and I have to talk to someone about professionalism at my place of work. And to 'join my team', because we're just a special kind of quality. And not actually just a few crayons short of a full box.

Needless to say, I made it through without anyone noticing. Or if they did notice, they didn't say anything. And if it would have been a bigger rip, i would have totally Bonnie-fied it by stapling that shit back together. But, sadly, it wasn't big enough.

I also had a stern talking-to to Mr. Jerry, and enthusiastically stated that any future attempted jail breaks were strictly prohibited, I didn't care if he's feeling 'more muscular' or not. Shit's just not right.

So that's what happened to me last week.
This week I'm going to try and not eat an entire Little Debbie factory.
And I might even run tonight. Since The Weather Gods are feeling generous and are blessing us with highs in the upper 60s. Don't worry tho, I'm sure they'll be little assholes and it'll snow next week. Might as well get out while I can, right?!
Cheers to me trying to push the stroller through sand/gravel!!! Can't wait to see how this goes.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Death by Bootcamp, brought to you by The Princess of Darkness. Kill me now.

Here it is. The day after my Torture Class, and I want donuts.

Christ on a maple glazed crutch!!!

Oh, wait, let me back up. I haven't told y'all about Death by Bootcamp Torture Class have I?! Well. Just hang on to your ill-fitting sports bras for this jazz.

So my ~~bitch of a~~ friend Tamra, bless her little heart, talked me into working out with a trainer once a week. And this was about 4 or so months ago. This is how I met The Princess of Darkness.....aka Morgan. She is The Evil One. Satan's Mistress. The Chief of Demontorture. The Enemy of Fat Righteousness. The Destroyer of Flabtasticness. Ohhhhh how I love that petite, little, shredded, uber-fit Princess.

And after about 3 months, little Miss Tormentor mentioned that she was starting a 3-day a week bootcamp.....for 12 weeks. Why? Why do you do this to me?!

Of course my little exercise pal Tamra was ALL about it. And of course, she pestered me and bullied me, and finally FORCED me to do it with her.

We're now in Week 2.
I have reached new levels of muscle soreness. Like I can't pee without using the hand-rails so sometimes I hold it so long I contemplate just letting it go in my office chair, but then realize that eventually I'll have to get up and everyone will see that I peed my pants, and I won't have pants to change into. But even if I did have extra pants I couldn't get into them anyway because I can't bent over or move my legs like that anymore because THAT pain is way worse than using the hand rails to squat over the porcelain throne. So, I get up and pee. And save myself once again from embarrassment.

What was I talking about before the peeing?
Oh ya, Week 2.

So, last night, I'm feeling all superpower like and jump my flabby ass on Conveyor Belt of Death (otherwise known as the Treadmill) and decide to warm up by doing a little mile.
I'm feeling good. I'm owning this shit. I'm rocking out.
Mile up!
Sweet! That wasn't so hard!
Let's do this bitches!!

So I stroll all badass-like over to the Personal Training Area and the Queen of Suffering says, 'Why are you all sweaty?'

To which I reply, with a big ol' shit eaten grin, 'I just warmed up! I ran a mile!'

Hippy Skippy and Dolphin Claps for me.

She glances at me, with almost this look of pity, and says, 'Oh, well, then you're not going to like what we're doing today.'

Mother of all things EVIL! She's making us run MORE!!!

I was not prepared for this. I thought my running was done. Whyyyyyyyyyy!?!?!

Oh, and get this! My little partner in crime, Miss Tamra wasn't even there!!! (not that it was her fault, her daughter was sick, but STILL!) There was only 3 of our 7 ladies there last night. But we three ROCKED IT! We're the A Team! Forshizzle.

The workout started off all 'I can do this!' But that wimpy enthusiasm quickly took a hike. It was four stations, with four exercises each. You did each exercise for 40 seconds then rest for 20. Then you took a quick break and moseyed on down to the track to do a 1/4 of a mile (2 laps).

First rotation.....eh, not bad.
2nd....kinda felt like my lungs were a twinge warm and I had a funny tingling in my legs.
3rd.....pretty sure I was going to die.
4th.....couldn't breathe, seriously contemplated crawling the 20 feet back to our area, and absolutely positive I lost my legs on lap 1.shitmypants.

SEE!!!!!
Morgan's just sooooo mean!

But, I do really love her. Because she's going to destroy my batwings. I just know it.
Right?

RIGHT?!?!

Ok. I don't want donuts now.
I want a freaking ice cream truck.
And a Hostess Factory.

75 more minutes until almost lunch time.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I can do this.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Did you know carrots are great Makeup Tools?!

Someone has decided that EVERYTHING is a makeup brush...or lip gloss....or something that you rub on your lips or face.

Yes. Everything.

Oh, there's bottle of sunscreen on the floor???? Lets use it like it's a blush brush and rub it all over our face.

Oh, there's a small bottle of (sealed) Essential Oil sitting on the counter, Lets use that as lip gloss and rub it all over our lips. And Mama's lips. And the dog's lips.

Seriously! It's Everything! Dillyn will pick up the most random thing and start rubbing it all over her face! lol. It's hilarious, but super strangepants at the same time.

Once, she grabbed a baby carrot and started rubbing it on her cheeks and forehead!

And, just yesterday, we were outside playing (because the Weather Gods pulled their heads out for a quick second and gave us a brilliant weekend full of 70 degree weather. However it is short lived, because it's supposed to get down to 40 on Thursday. But no fear! It goes back up to 60 this weekend. Jesus, Mary, and El Nino, can they just make up their freaking minds already?!?! It's like the Weather Gods took an IV of Red Bull, then popped a few Speed pills, as they hang out in their purple straightjackets because they're Schizos). Moving on. We were playing outside and little Miss Beauty Queen in the Making was drawing with sidewalk chalk, and I was being the good mother that I am, and sitting in a lawn chair, reading a book, and drinking a beer. All the sudden I look up to see what she's drawing...........and OH.MY.GAWD. She's taken the black....BLACK.....chalk and is drawing all over her lips. Like she's putting lip gloss on.

Ohhhhh child of mine......

I quickly jumped up and said, 'No No!!'
To which, she replied with, 'NO! NO!' (freaking sassypants) And then turned 90 degrees and took off at a full run in the other direction. Laughing & squealing like a hysterical person the whole time. Continuing to rub the black chalk all over her face.

She's 18 months people. And it's already starting.

Is this why most mothers have sippy cups of Mommy's Special Drink with them at all times?!?!

It's nice to know that Dilly's a little girly. But even more nice that her favorite word right now is DEER, and that she has no problems digging her little fingers in the mud and wiping them all over herself. (Because that's what she did when she dropped the black chalk. *shakes head*)

Here's a cute little video of her using the proper tools to put on 'make up'!

Friday, January 23, 2015

I'm a complete and utter (hehe, I said utter) Math-Challenged MORON.

Nothing is more gratifying than when you realize you are a total freaking moron. Especially when you put your moronicness (totally a word) out for all the internets to see.

I'd just like to clarify that I am in fact 33 years old. Years young. What the hell ever. I'm FUCKING THIRTY-THREE. Not 32. Not 34. Not 23, which is what I pretend sometimes when I do stupid shit, that's not related to trying to figure out my age.

I believe however, that this is the most epic of stupid shit that I've done in quite a while.

If you read my post yesterday, then you know I mildly freaked out and thought I was 33 (soon to be *gasp* 34), but somehow missed normal second grade subtraction and thought I was 32. Like, seriously spend 48 hours thinking I was 32. Told my trainer I was 32. POSTED ON THE BLOGGY I WAS 32. Told ALL the people I was 32.

When clearly, it's not only gloriously posted right under my picture to the right here----------
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BUT anyone that has a grade school education can figure out that I'm actually 33. Not 32.

I think my math teacher of a mother (who taught me all though high school) is extremely proud of me right now.

Actually, Mother, I blame you. Yup. That's what's going to happen here. I not only inherited your side of the family's classy ditziness, but you neglected to teach your OWN daughter basic math skills. Yes, this is all your fault. (Again, I might be acting like I'm 15 at the moment, but let's not dwell on that, mmmkay?!)

And since I'm going to redirect my ignorance here, and continue on the Mom-Blame-Game, I'd like to share with you all EXACTLY where I come from.
This was Mother's comment on a post I put on FB the other day:

SEE PEOPLE?!?! SEE!!!!

All Heifer Free.

I'd like to be all heifer free as well Mother. But I'm referring to my heifer sized ass.

In other news: Day 2 of my Sugar Overload Diet commenced with my employee bringing in fresh, straight from the oven, still radiating warmth, Krispy Kreme Donuts this morning.
I've had 2.
I'm thinking about having another.
FML

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Kinda, but kinda not Ten Things Thursday.

I've eaten nothing but chocolates today. Russell Stover chocolates. Some Vallallahalla or something chocolates from Minnesota. More Russell Stover chocolates. Ugh. I suck at life.

Anywhoozle.

You may (or may not) have noticed that I changed up my page a little. I decided that I wanted to add a little somepin-somepin to my title. I may just end up changing it even more. So it's like Beer, Dogs, Beauty, Baby, Chocoholic, Randomness, Obsessions, I Miss Summer, and Getting Healthier. Catchy???? Ya, I thought so too.

Well, since venturing into the wonderful world of beauty products in October, I've kind of gone ape-shit for makeup. I know. I'm shocked myself. Coming from a girl that thought 'dressing up' was to include tinted chapstick into my minimally done makeup routine (and by minimally, I mean eye liner. Maaayyyyyybe some mascara, if I was feeling overzealous. Which never happens.) So, for me to now think about eye shadow AND foundation AND mascara AND *gasp* blush......shit's hit the fan peeps. But what's cool.....I freaking LOVE it! Maybe it's the artist in me, and thinking of my face as a canvas, or some shit like that. Or maybe it's because I'm a late bloomer and only started maturing into my 'teen years' in my thirties. Which, btw, I COMPLETELY thought I was 33 the other day. Seriously and positively thought I was going to be 34 in April. And kinda had a mini-stroke thinking about that. Until my friend graciously pointed out that I'm only 32. But, for realz people, I can't even remember how old I am. AND I'M ONLY 32! Jesus tits Mary Mother of donkey balls.

OH, back to the topic of cosmetics. Yes, I've become slightly obsessed with it. I even started a Pinterest page. (You can find me HERE, if you want to follow me. You should. Because it's cool. Just like me.) Anyways, so I'm going to start posting about new beauty trends on here and other amazeballs stuff. It won't take up all my little bloggy, but since it's something new and exciting for me, I figured I could share with The Cool People (that'd be y'all).

In completely unrelated news. I have a mini-me.

My bro and I. Circa 1985, I would have been 4ish.

Miss Dillyn. Age 17mo.

I would just like to point out the size of that child's head. As my lovely friend Amy from Once Upon A Time In The Land Of Cheese & Sunkist pointed out.......big headed babies are IN. This girl would win any big-head contest. Hands down. 99.8 Percentile people. LARGE AND IN CHARGE. I mean, look at her little toothpick arms. I think she's got more cushin' for the pushin' in her damn cheeks than she has on her biceps!!! But don't worry y'all. She got my Ben & Jerry's. Thunder Thighs. Big on the bottom. That's my girl. Takin' after her Mama in more ways than one. So proud.

This was kinda a 10 Thing Thursday. Minus about 7 things. But still! It was random! And it's Thursday!

Cheers to beers y'all!!! I might actually partake tonight. Cause I can. Yup.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Clumps are OUT! Younique 3D Mascara Tips!

I found some great tips from another blogger on using your you Younique 3D Fiber Lashes Mascara! I already use these tips and thought posting them on my blog might help a few of my #BOOMlash Ladies!!! If you've got clumps, it could be because one or all of the following:

1) You’re using regular mascara underneath your 3D Fiber Lashes. Yes, the insert that comes with Younique’s mascara says to use over regular mascara, but as you know, all mascaras are not the same. Try using your 3D Fiber Lashes without regular mascara underneath. You just might like it. Note: I don’t use regular mascara underneath the Younique mascara. It’s my preference and I’ve found that I like my lashes better when I’m only using Younique’s. If you are adamant about using mascara underneath, make sure you are using a “lengthening” mascara and not a “thickening” mascara as this can cause clumps.

2) Using too much gel or fibers. **This is a GREAT tip** Sometimes when you first start using the gel, a lot of it gets on the lash brush. Try scraping a good amount of it off. Use less gel and less fibers, and build “layers” versus trying to achieve the look with one coat. The mascara is buildable so use less, just more coats. For example: gel, fibers, gel. Let sit for 30 seconds then gel, fibers, gel again.

3) Not letting the fibers set long enough. If you don’t let the fibers set long enough and stick to the gel, it can cause the fibers to stick to the wand. Below is my method to applying 3D Fiber Lashes. Switching off between eyes gives the fibers time to set and won’t come off on the gel wand, which can cause clumping. But be carefully not to wait too long, because the gel will dry and then the fibers won't stick. Try applying Younique 3D Fiber Lashes Mascara in this order:

Gel eye 1.
Gel eye 2.
Fibers eye 1.
Fibers eye 2.
Gel eye 1 to seal it up.
Gel eye 2 to seal it up.
Repeat to continue building on the length/thickness.

Hope this helps! I'd love to see pictures! Post some on my Facebook page HERE or email me!!

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Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Friday, September 11, 2015

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Friday, April 10, 2015

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Monday, March 9, 2015

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Monday, February 9, 2015

Friday, January 23, 2015

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Gel eye 1.

Gel eye 2.

Fibers eye 1.

Fibers eye 2.

Gel eye 1 to seal it up.

Gel eye 2 to seal it up.