Friday, March 29, 2013

Little Lady Lingerie




As many of you know, I live in Utah County, where every lady is an accomplished crafter. Utah County is forever stuck in the sixties. Every woman knows how to decoupage a photo frame while knitting a scarf while balancing a Betty Crocker cookbook on her head.
One day I found myself drawn to the Utah County crafter mothership: The Quilted Bear.
Now, I have a serious fondness for the Quilted Bear. And I support local artists who make things and sell them for diddly. But the Quilted Bear has some really crazy shiz.
Behold! LITTLE LADY LINGERIE.
What the.

Okay, I get that some people want to hearken back to an innocent time of boudoirs and children in silky sleepwear, but come on!

Frillz
I also understand the temptation of naming your store alliteratively. For awhile I considered calling myself The Cotton Confabulating Consort, but it was too much of a mouthful.
You will note that the right side of the booth has a rack full of lingerie ranging from Luvs Size 4 to Still-Bed-Wetting.
The colors of a feminine palette.

But if you seductively cast your eyes leftward, you will see a rack full of larger (tallish? more mature?) lingerie.
No. Bad.

I mean, these are not little! These are my size! Or a teenage girl's! Is that the point?! Is this where the matrons of a compound shop when their daughters have their names written in the Joy Book, ready to be married? Creeeeeeeeeeeepy.
Oh, Mr. Floozy. Step into my chambers. 

It gets even worse. Little Lady Lingerie has custom doll lingerie. For your doll. For you to dress your doll in to match your own lingerie. That you are wearing. When you climb into bed. At night. In lingerie. With your doll.
So, of course, I had to buy my own lacy nightgown with its matching sheer robe.
This can never be unseen.
It made a perfect Halloween costume. I scared everybody. Baby Jane has nothing on me.


Tuesday, March 26, 2013

'I Just Want to Pee [or Poop] Alone' Book Review

I remember a time when my kids were young and sticky and would never leave me alone, not even when I went to the bathroom. They would knock knock knock and 'Mom, Mom, Mom' me, relentlessly, mercilessly. Sometimes they would even slip a note under the door to let me know that their bums hurt or that Halloween was only eight months away and they really needed to figure out their costumes right that very second. When you are in the bathroom (or on the phone), it suddenly becomes extremely urgent for your children to question you to death. And now that my kids are older and need about as much attention as houseplants, my dogs have become my needy babies. Whenever I am locked in the bathroom, they yip at me and stick their paws under the door and ask me if I can make Ewok costumes for them for Halloween which is only eight months away. Kids! Pets! Houseplants!

If you have experienced any of the above, then I have the book for you! I Just Want to Pee Alone is a collection of hilarious posts by mommy bloggers. Now, I am very particular about what blogs I read, because I am easily bored and do not like your perfect instagram photos of your perfect instagram family. Sorry. Those are the types of mommy blogs I skip, because, hell, I already feel bad about all of my mommy screw-ups, including that time I let my kids eat a splattered pie off the floor.



That is a lie. I feel completely fine about my kids eating pie off the floor.

No. The mommy blogs that I prefer have to be honest and real and full of unabashed hilarity.

My friend Johi from Confessions of a Cornfed Girl is a contributor for this book. Not only is Johi funny and an excellent writer, but she is genuine. She has a good heart. And that comes through in her writing.

Cornfed Girl is beautiful while she sleeps
wearing the BACK OFF mask I made for her.


Plus, Johi sends me birthday presents. I am easily bribed. Her latest gift to me was her book 'I Just Want to Pee Alone.' Fabulous. This is her inscription:


Do you see the funny? I also appreciated her wish for me to 'walk in the shade wherever [I] go,' because she knows how much I hate the sun. Also the drawing of the 'unipone' is pretty kickass.

Johi's chapter in the book is titled, 'What You Mock, You Become.' Of course, as soon as I got the book I skipped to her chapter to read it first. Besides priceless sentences like this one: 'Is Satan related to the person who invented roller skates?,' there is a deeper truth embedded in her writing. And that truth is don't be a dick cuz karma is a bitch. That Johi, she is as wise as Laozi or Winnie the Pooh.

Speaking of poo.... I have one issue with the book. I think it should have been named, 'I Just Want to POOP alone' because according to the search results on my kindle, the words 'poop' and 'poo' occur 38 times in the book whereas the word 'pee' is only used 21 times. Okay, never mind. That is still a lot of peeing. Keep the book title. Carry on.

My friendly bathroom.
'your poop smells nice'
and
'I Just Want to Pee Alone'


Other words frequently used:

boob: 25 times
wine: 20 times
vagina: 50 times
and
f*ck: 38 times (which ties with the word 'poop!')

These ladies don't hold back.

The chapter by Patti Ford (Insane in the Mom Brain) describes a few classic mothering mishaps. One of which involves poop. Perhaps you can take a guess from the title, 'Eat Poop, Laugh. No, I Did Not Forget a Comma.' I love her writing style as well. I highlighted the crap out of her chapter on my kindle: 'Sometimes it's just best not to be home alone with a child who was seemingly sent to this earth for the sole purpose of finding your breaking point.' True that.

Another chapter I loved was, 'Love, Tears, and a Few Scattered Ashes,' by Meredith Spidel from Mom of the Year. I don't want to give the story's climax (tee hee hee) away, but let's just say that it involves cremains, black clothes, and a windy day. (I just totally gave it away, didn't I.) This essay was bittersweet and life-affirming.

But the chapter that affected me the most was Susan McLean's 'Tale of Two Vaginas.' I read that book while nearly biting my index finger off. (BTW, my hand is deliciously salty.) I might have passed out twice. Her birth story was eerily familiar to mine with a failed birth plan and a doctor who suddenly left during the middle of pushing. Thanks a lot, doctor! I really appreciated the bill for that time you did not catch my baby! Again, I don't want to give away the punchline, because you must read it for yourself. You simply must. This is a story that everyone should read. In fact, you should read it to your kids over family dinner. And just for kicks, give the book as a gift at a baby shower and emphasize that the mother-to-be read this chapter. (I still hope that there were expecting parents touring the hospital while I screamed as I gave birth to my daughter.) I have a sick, sick sense of humor.

'I Just Want to Pee Alone' made me laugh, cry, and develop a taste for human flesh.

So, what are you waiting for! Go buy the book!

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

My Phone Never Went To College



Today I am driving my son to the local university to take a test in the testing center. My kneepits started sweating when I typed that. He is fifteen years old and officially enrolled at Utah Valley University. What is that smell? Oh. That is the smell of burnt mom brain. Smells like turkey bacon.

Okay, okay,  he's not really in college so much as that he is going to an on-college-campus high school that sends their students to college classes. So, high school? Yes. College? That, too.

Basically what this concurrent enrollment high school entails is my son getting up crazy early, catching a community bus, and riding fifty minutes away each day to the campus. Then, when school gets out at 4pm,  he stays an extra hour at the high school for tutoring and catches a bus home. He will be gone most of the day. It seems a bit boarding-schoolish to me. I FEEL LIKE I AM SENDING HIM TO HOGWARTS.

Even though I'm sure it will be tough, I know that this is the right fit for him because he is Lord High Nerd of the Nerdlings. In three years time he will graduate with both his high school diploma and his associates degree. Which is one more college degree than I have.

I never graduated from college.

Also, I do not own a smart phone. My phone never graduated from college either.

I's a dumb phone, yeehaw!


Here's my story. I went to BYU, got married as a teenager, dropped out of college, had three babies, went back to BYU, got scared away from BYU because, hell, it was BYU, transferred to UVU, made English Professors happy, dropped out of school because there was nowhere to park my car and it super pissed me off.

So maybe I should go back to school and take college classes with my cute wittle baby boo. That wouldn't be embarrassing at all for my son, right?

Kidding. If I went back to college, I would be a ninja so as not to embarrass him. A ninja wearing a tie-dyed hand-puffy-painted t-shirt that says, 'I GO TO COLLEGE WITH MY ADORABLE MAN-CHILD.'

This morning I have jotted down all of the advice I need to give him about taking a test in the testing center today. 'Cell phone: Do not bring one. Blue bag: Do not be afraid of stuffing everything into a blue bag and placing it under your desk. Pencils: Bring two, pre-sharpened. Scratch paper: Bring some  blank paper and have it stamped. Bathroom: Do not be afraid of getting up and going to the bathroom if you need to, dear child of my heart.'

I have more advice for him about college. Don't go all Hermione on your first day of class. Don't procrastinate that mean horrible awful 30-page research paper until the night before it's due. When you write a paper, no matter what, do not bore the teacher. I am pretty certain that the only reason that I passed my research paper class was because I was an interesting writer. My research paper sucked donkey balls, but at least it wasn't boring!

When I asked my English professor friend what she wanted me to embroider for her, she had this request (as posted on my Facebook wall):

"DON'T BORE ME. If you really want to embroider something for me, I would like it to say DON'T BORE ME. It's advice I explicitly give my students for their papers. (Actually I tell them, "TRY not to bore me," acknowledging that some of them probably will fail, just like I no doubt sometimes bore them.) Everyone else, I just sort of think it at them, hoping they'll get the telepathic message. Luckily I am easily entertained and can be interested in all sorts of conversation topics. I am even interested in why people are interested in things they really shouldn't be interested in, like assault rifles, teaching Sunday school, and coming up with new creative date ideas instead of just mocking the ones that already exist."

Awesome advice! 

Dear Doogie Man-Child Howser Floozy, I am sure that you will do great. And p.s., don't bore the teacher. And p.p.s, save a seat for me on the front row. I have bought us matching collegiate stationary and pompom pencils.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

All the Peoples

I have very many talented friends. My friend Brad the Barista belongs to a band, so I made him this.


No, his band's name is not Human Polar Bear Centipede. Which would be awesome. But it still has a super awesome name, Tri-Polar Bear. They often play around here locally. You should go and see them if you live in Utah. Tell them that The Floozy sent you. Make sure that you look really weird and unstable while you say that, so that they run into a bathroom stall and call the police. That should be fun for everyone.

Some of my other friends are writers. My good friend, Holly Welker, not only wrote this awesome awesome you should read it article for Bitch Magazine, she also read my tarot cards last weekend. It was the first time that I have ever had my cards read, and I hate to break it to you, but the first female lady president of the united states is not going to be Hilary Clinton. It is going to be me. The cards said so.

And lastly, so many of my friends have boooooks out. Real books, with like, pages and everything! First off, there is Crimes of Humanity by Lynn Fausett, not to be confused with the outrageously fun and offensive game, Cards Against Humanity. Confession. Lynn Fausset is not my friend, for I have never met him or talked to him or poked him on Facebook. But his wife Jenny is my friend now that she has driven by the Coffee Shack enough times that I have written out her favorite latte 'The Jenny' and sticky-taped it to the wall. Hold on there. Her husband might get the wrong idea about how much money she spends on coffee and I might have just gotten her in trouble if Lynn reads this, so hey, Lynn, your wife hardly ever comes to the coffee shack and when she does, she only buys a cheap (but delicious) drip brew. 'The Jenny?' was named after another Jenny. Okay, I'll stop now, because I am only making it worse.

Ahem. Go read the book.

Another book that I highly recommend is Sweet Home by my friend, Carys Bray. Omigersh, you guys. This book of short stories is so amazingly creepy and charming and subversive. I super love it. Go forth and read it.

And lastly, because I really need to get my butt out the door so that I can get to the coffee shack on time to make Jenny 'The Jenny,' you should all read my friend Johi's chapter in the collaborative humor book I Just Want to Pee Alone. In fact, I recommend that you read all of the book, because what I have read is effing hilarious.

You should read ALL THE BOOKS BY ALL THE PEOPLES.



Friday, March 8, 2013

CRAFTING QUEEN, FEEL THE BEAT OF HER HOMEMADE TAMBORINE


When I was a kid, this was one of my favorite books.



Dian Thomas was a Craft Goddess. She was frequently on the Today Show (see book cover!) and her ideas and craftsperations were ubiquitous in my Mormon world. She was all sorts of awesome. 

I found my mom's old copy of her book a few days ago, and I haven't stopped poring over the pages. Surely, Amy Sedaris' book, 'Simple Times: Crafts for Poor People' was inspired by everything Dian Thomas.

Here are a few sample pages.

Christmas tree in a playpen! Brilliant.

Those clown dolls in the corner will haunt my dreams forever.

There is absolutely nothing gross
about tying dental floss around a hot dog
 and submerging it in a thermos full of chili. 
I wonder if I can get Mr. Floozy
to wear one of these snazzy terry-cloth man-aprons?

Aren't those super fabulous?

Friday, March 1, 2013

Geishas From Hell



Let me spritz your memories with this light and lovely memory spritzer link.

I made this sampler for The Radio From Hell team.



No, that is not Jesus. That is Kurt Cobain in angelic form. For some of you, that might be the same thing as Jesus. I went to high school in the 90's, so I understand.

When Bill mildly chastised me on the radio for not 'finishing' the sampler I had Vietnam flashbacks of my childhood elementary school, remembering the spinster teacher crones who often regarded my penmanship worksheets the same way. Those ladies were scary with their rulers and their duct tape! (At some point, I should talk about my weird private school experience. Back-burner.)  I see what Bill is saying with the whole 'not finished' comment. Maybe I've watched too many Project Runway episodes and so I think it's normal to be called to the front of the class and defend your work. I see how this sampler looks like a coloring page before the crayoning.

Whatever.

I was going to go up to the show and finish it there, but I didn't want to have to unpick anything or stitch over anything while people were watching me. And I kinda like it how it is. So there. (I have an ongoing fantasy of Gordon Ramsay berating me over this embroidery and then Tim Gunn gently consoling me with his neatly pressed hanky. And then Benedict Cumberbatch comes in and things go crazy.)

So I didn't go up to the X96 studio. Instead, I made this.

GEISHAS FROM HELL


I am mailing it today.

IS IT FINISHED NOW, BILL.

Maiko Kerry-san and Geiko Gina-san
on the night of
Shikomi Bill-chan's mizuage.