Good fun at Lucky's expense

Despite my long-standing (4 month) feud with Lucky magazine*, I occasionally visit its website to see if I'm missing anything. Every once in a while, something cute will catch my eye and I'll consider reconciling with Lucky. I had a moment like that when I saw Rachel Bilson on the cover of the most recent issue (love her!).

When will I ever learn? Just when I start to trust Lucky again, it does something stupid. Behold, Lucky's new "contest":

I know that I have consciously felt sorry for the poor fashion writer who has to describe similar-looking shoes in 52 different yet appealing ways. Apparently Lucky feels badly for that person too, so they want us to do the work with only a slim chance of meager compensation, lots of limits on the words you can use, and no health insurance. The nerve! Check out the rules:

I swear that every single issue of Lucky that I've ever seen has included all of those banned words and phrases, am I right? Also, these are the only two rules. There's no info about when it's due or whether the "winner" will get credit for her captions. I love all of this vagueness! Lucky is such a great boss!

Lucky has balls. Big balls, my friends and it deserves to be knocked down a notch. Here's my plan: no one on the earth enters the contest except for me, and then Lucky will be forced to accept my captions or make its own gd employee do her own gd work. It's brilliant, isn't it?

This is a sample of what I will be submitting (click to enlarge):


Peep-toe slingbacks:


Satin platforms:


You know, that was actually very fun (apologies to the innocent shoes). Forget my plan, all of us should make up ridiculous captions and submit them. Then Lucky will pay a real employee to read our entertaining yet useless entries.

Lucky, thank you for this opportunity to make fun of you yet again. No hard feelings, huh? It's all in whimsical blingy adorable really cool fun.


*Lucky's transgressions are as follows:
1. Treats subscribers as if they've had lobotomies
2. Is cruel to its own staff (who incidentally have no clue)
3. Had Nicole Richie on its cover at her skinniest
4. Encourages readers to look like hookers

Shopping Spree

I hate cold weather. And snow. There is lots of both here in Denver and I am OVER IT. Usually when the weather is dreary, I find happiness in spending money and acquiring things that I don't need. However, I am on a spending hiatus (thanks to A Cup of Jo for the dignified term which replaces "stop buying so much crap"), so there will be no shopping. After the week I've had, I really feel the need to use (if you watch Celebrity Rehab, you know what I mean); please join me on a brief virtual shopping trip.

First purchase:

I'm trying to cut back on my magazines so I didn't take Margaret Russell up on her generous subscription offer. It hurts me, deep inside, to not have Elle Decor in my mailbox every month, and I may have to give up my design blogger status without it.

Then, just for fun, I'd get this and send it overnight to Lauren Conrad:


She'd call me and say "oh my God. What the hell is she wearing? Are those multi-sized mirrors on her dress?" and I'd say "I know! What's up with the flesh colored band around her waist? I can't stop looking at her beauty pageant hair and freaky expression! And the background color--how unappealing. Lauren, did you design this cover? Because the person who did hates Kristin Cavallari with the intensity of 1000 suns!" Then we'd have a big laugh (although I'm not sure that Lauren is capable of more than a closed-mouth smile) and talk some shit about Heidi's new video and Spencer's amazing ability to become more and more creepy.

But for now I'm still shopping. I'd buy some lipstick, because that is a guaranteed pick-me-up:

MAC 'Slimshine' Lipstick, don't know what color, but I'd wear it

Ah, I'm feeling better already; nothing makes my heart pitter-patter like a new tube of lipstick. Gloss could never really do that for me.

Next stop, shoes, for my one big splurge:

Marc by Marc Jacobs Hh two tone Mary Janes, $473

God, I think these are gorgeous. I'd even wear them out of the store, just like kids do, and later tell my husband that I got them on the sale rack at DSW.

My final purchase:

A snowblower. What a dream! If there is snow during the week, I am usually the shoveler because my husband leaves for work at 6 a.m. If ever you need a good laugh, come on over to my house after a snowstorm. I'll set you up in front of the bay window with some hot chocolate and you can watch me shovel our short driveway and small stretch of sidewalk for an insane amount of time. When I'm finished, it will look the the work of a blind person with two broken arms.


Well, that actually felt pretty good. I'm a simple woman; magazines, lipstick, shoes and an occasional piece of power equipment are all it really takes to satisfy me. Thankfully, a Kit Kat Blizzard from Dairy Queen and Keeping Up with the Kardashians have that same effect, and I'm going to partake in that kind of cheap fix right now.

Hope you have a fulfilling weekend too!

For your own good, put down any food you might be eating

I was going to do this big ol' post on Celebrity Rehab and how repulsively awesome it is, but then life intervened.

My children and I went out to eat tonight with some of my friends and their kids. We have some weird food issues here at chez SGM, and my kids don't eat much sugar or dairy. So tonight, all of the other kids were getting ice cream sundaes. Everyone orders the small ones, except for me. I order the kid-sized ones because I assume that they'd be extra-small, and my kids won't eat much anyway. Totally wrong on both counts. The "kids" size ice cream sundae comes in a grande cup, filled to the brim. WTF, Applebee's?

So I give my 3 year old her strawberry ice cream sundae, thinking that she will stop after a few bites. She's always a good little self-regulator. But then I look over after about 2 minutes and she has eaten pretty much the entire thing. She is a tiny, petite girl with a nasty ol' cheeseburger already in her tummy and I become filled with dread. I know what's coming.

A few minutes later, she does the expected. She barfs. Not her entire meal, just fountains of pink ice cream. And then the little girl across from her sees this and starts barfing too, a simple chain reaction. Like that scene in Stand By Me. I laugh helplessly at the awfulness of it all, and my other friend with the throwing up kid starts laughing, and our kids are crying. And I just don't know how I'm going to make it to my car, which is far away, and it's about 2 degrees out, and my coat and hers are covered in pink vomit. Plus I have a 6 year old who is running around like a chicken (literally, "bawk bawk" and all), high as a kite on sugar.

I have good friends. They're all trying to help clean up, which mortifies me. So I am holding my pukey kid, trying to clean so my friends won't do it. They finally convince me to just leave and on my way out the door I yell "Give her a big tip! $100! I'll pay you back! I am so sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!"

By the time we run through freaking Antarctica (props to my 6 year old who actually kept up with me) and arrive at our car, my 3 year old has totally recovered and is recounting her night: "I hate barfing! I barfed so much in there! That scared me so much! Can I have a snack when we get home? I am so cold! I hate barfing!"

Lordy be. Now everyone is in bed, and I am headed that way too. My take on Celebrity Rehab will just have to wait, but try to catch it tomorrow night on VH1 because some major shiz is about to go down. I am rubbing my hands in anticipation; it's going to be that good.

See you tomorrow!

Thanks to HoldThatTiger for the photo

Stupid Hard Advanced

I'll have a "real" post later, but in the meantime, please enjoy this hilarious video about how much you suck at Photoshop.*



*Thanks to My Love for You for directing me to this amusing little tidbit. For the record, I don't know anything about Photoshop and this is still the funniest video I've seen, um, since that Paul Rudd one I just posted. You can watch the whole series, along with the demise of the narrator's marriage and career, here.

I just can't

I have watched a few episodes of Rock of Love 2, and I just can't stomach it anymore. Please understand the implications of this. SGM rejecting a VH-1 celeb-reality show during a writers' strike is akin to Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag going into seclusion. It just doesn't happen.

Perhaps I do not like Rock of Love 2 because Brett Michaels is too old for a second season, and the women "aren't really there for Brett," but there for 15 degrading minutes of fame. Or perhaps it is simply because I feel that Brett should be with Heather from last season:

Isn't she a peach?

I don't know, and I don't even care to analyze it.

Brett, I don't even care enough to sit you down and talk to you about all of this. Wait--I do care enough to ask, "would you please own the fact that you are balding?" Those hair extensions aren't fooling anyone. Is this a recent picture? It's from your official website, which I presume is current. No man in his mid-40s has full, lustrous hair like this.


I saw that episode (the phone sex one) last season, pre-extensions, where you were sans hat and bandana. Remember that? Your hair was embarrassingly fluffy, especially in the bang area, which only served to highlight the thinning. Honey, you're almost 45 and diabetic to the point you've been incapacitated on your show. Take it easy. There's no way you can win this race without looking like Lauri Waring Peterson or your old sex tape buddy Pam Anderson. Shave your head or something. Embrace your older self. You can still use the self-tanner, but with restraint. I bet you'd still be pretty decent-looking guy (well, maybe not, but that's what you get from years of rock star partying. Every rose has its thorn. Hee hee).

And while I'm at it, what's up with that enormous bulge in your pants? WE GET IT , BRETT. You're all man. Can you work on being more subtle about it?

Look at me getting all riled up about Brett's appearance. There's some life in me yet.

Anyhow. I'm at my breaking point, people. Surviving on reality tv alone is like eating a diet consisting solely of donuts. It sounds like a good idea, a fucking awesome idea in fact, but after a few weeks, you just end up fat and toothless and stupid. Eventually you start to crave something healthy and substantive, e.g. shows that do not feature stripper poles or lips collagen-ed beyond recognition.

Yeah, yeah, the Writers Guild* is thisclose to making a deal. Whatever. By the time a new episode of The Office comes on, I'll be doing the unthinkable, like having an actual conversation with my husband or reading a book. And then it will be too late.**


*Dude, "Writers" isn't possessive? Jesus. I don't trust these people. Not one bit.

**Who am I kidding. It won't be too late. I'll come crawling back. But I just wanted to make a point with the writers and the networks, you know? They don't fully realize the suffering.

Brushes with Fame (aka Been Tagged)

Paloma at La Dolce Vita tagged me and gave me the choice of listing 7 weird things about myself or 7 famous people that I've met. I did the 7 Weird Things a few months ago, so I've been trying to think of famous people that I've met. I only have 5. But because I'm the boss of this blog, I am going to give you the 5, and the remaining 2 will be famous people that I could have met but did not because I am stupid.

Here we go!

1. Marky Mark. Talked my way backstage at a concert and he rapped my name.

2. Adam Sandler. He came to my college to do stand-up. After the show, my friend and I asked him for his autograph and proceeded to creepily stalk him for the rest of the night.


3. Atallah Shabaz (Malcolm X's daughter). I was her driver when she came to my college in the early 90s and this woman was one of the most dignified and gracious people I've ever met. After she gave this really moving speech, people were coming up to her and crying and she was so lovely and kind to everyone. Then she and her assistant hopped in my beater of a car and we went to Village Inn to eat pancakes. Truly an amazing and down-to-earth person.

4. Pat Monahan (lead singer of Train). This was just a few months ago. Not terribly into Train, but he was really nice.

5. Julie Ashton. What? You haven't heard of her? Haven't you seen Cock Loving Moms or Hot Cherry Pies 3? I'd post a picture of her, but they're all a bit NSFW. I met her at a party several years ago and had to be told who she was (by my husband, who was all "she wants me so baaaaaaaaad").

6. An old boyfriend of mine is pals with Paul Rudd. They were in the same fraternity pledge class. Yep. In the mid-90s, old boyfriend and Paul would get together in Kansas City over the holidays. Not me. I was in Denver doing important things, like vacuuming and flossing my teeth.

7. Also in the mid-90s, my friend Peter asked me to come with him to hang out with some friends from home, who were in this band. "No thanks," I replied, "I'd rather sit at home and get the latest on OJ's trial" (or something lame like that). So I missed out on meeting Dave Mathews et al.

That's it. Not going to tag anyone else right now because it's late and . . . I'm lazy. Happy Monday!


*Thanks to etsy's McYarnpants (love that name!) for the photo of the gift tags.

Paul Rudd Makes Me Want to See a Cardiologist

I Suwannee posted a link to this video in Decorno's comments section. It's funny in a way that makes my heart want to burst with happiness, and I decided that I must have it on my blog.