Category Archives: random bullshit

November 26, 2013

Remember what I said about strengths?

By Steph
source: freakingnews.com

source: freakingnews.com

Yeah. Well, it turns out, my strength (if I even have one, which at this point is questionable) is not hair. So just go ahead and ignore any advice I may have given in that regard.

I attempted a routine procedure tonight which I have done probably 500 times since I first turned my hair purple when I was a silly 14-year-old. It appears that now, 20 years later, I’m still pretty fucking silly.

It started out fine. I put on the gloves, mixed the solution, put it on my head. Then I read the instructions (I’ll admit, maybe that should’ve been the first step) and checked the time.

Then…I made coffee, watched the weather, re-watched that hilarious James Franco and Seth Rogan video, switched around two chairs in the living room, decided what to make for dinner, listened to an extensive recap of an X-box game courtesy of Thing 2, answered about a million questions from Thing 3…

And realized I had no freaking idea what time this shit was supposed to come off my head. Was it 5 that I started? But that would make rinse at 5:30 and it’s already 6:00, so maybe I started at 5:30 and rinse at 6:00? But maybe…was I supposed to rinse at 6:15?

I waited until 6:10 just in case. In hindsight, this was probably not the best decision I could’ve made.

I was hoping it wasn’t too bad, but the amount (not to mention color) of the hair that was FALLING OUT OF MY HEAD was a little worrisome.

Then I knew it was terrible when my husband saw me and said just two words. “Oh. God.”

I immediately went on the defensive. “I know what you’re thinking. But it’s not black.”

He said, “Are you being serious?”

I said, “I am trying to be optimistic!”

Between him and this Halloween hair, it’s making it hard to look on the bright side. But not impossible! Tomorrow I am getting a new hat.

2 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in random bullshit, total chaos

November 24, 2013

Messy Bun: You’re Doing It Wrong

By Steph

I’ve noticed a lot of these so-called “messy bun tutorials” all over the internet and, frankly, you’re doing it wrong.

I don’t really get why a messy bun requires a tutorial, but I do understand that everyone has different strengths, so I’m going to help you out here.

Step 1: Don’t brush your hair. This is kind of an important step, as one of the main reasons for sporting a messy bun in the first place is to disguise your gnarly-ness.

bad hair day
Image courtesy of Bing images.

Step 2: Grab that tangled mess and pile it on your head. Wrap a ponytail holder or rubber band or a shoestring around it. Whatever’s handy. Kind of like this:

bun
Image courtesy of Bing images.

Messy? Check. Bun? Check. You are done.

You’re welcome.

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October 12, 2013

Voicemail blows and I just realized I’m not sure what century it is.

By Steph

I am starting a movement, and I expect my readers to get behind me on this (all 12 of you).

We are living in the 21st century (I think.  21st?  Does that sound right?  Whatever.)  Voicemails are old fucking news.  Effective immediately, we should all start completely ignoring them.  I’m a little ahead of the rest of you on this, but that’s because I got a pretty good head start (about 5 years).

Seriously.  No one ever leaves a chipper voicemail.  It’s all cranky bullshit, like “Call me back.  Click.” or “Please return my call.”  Fuck that.  I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.   Occasionally my husband will just leave fart noises, but that’s really as good as it gets.

If you call me and I don’t answer, I can pretty much guarantee that there is a reason.  Maybe I don’t feel like talking.  Maybe I don’t have cell service.  Maybe a purse monster ate my phone.  Maybe I’m in the bathroom.  Maybe I don’t like you, or I’m having one of those days where I hate everyone, including myself.  The possibilities are endless, really.

Anyway, leaving me 15 voicemails, each pissier (how can that not be a word?) than the last is NOT going to make me return your call.

I have caller ID.  We all do. 

For fuck’s sake, if it’s that important send me a text.  Or a pigeon.  I would totally reply by messenger bird.

Okay, enough ranting.  Now planning.

So, I hope you will all join me in my crusade to rid the world of this great evil, this guilt-inducing, joy-sucking government plot, this heinous OUTRAGE, The Voicemail.  (It even sounds bad.  Like blackmail.  Voicemail. Blackmail.  See?  I’m doing this for all of us.)

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September 17, 2013

I know best.

By Steph

You know how when you know what’s best for someone else, but they won’t do what you say?  Think of this post as a public service announcement.   Some of us know exactly what the fuck we are talking about. You should listen.  Case in point:

My mom wanted to borrow a book from me.  Reasons this was a bad idea:

1.  I hate lending my books.
2.  I knew she wouldn’t like it.
3.  I hate lending my books.

I tried to tell her.  She insisted.

Me:  You won’t like that one.

Mom:  Why do you say that?  It sounds good.

Me:  She’s too dark.  You are not going to like that book.  Plus, there are lesbians.

Mom:  *huffy* You think I don’t like gay people?

Me:  I think you are going to hate that book, and probably lose it, and I HAVEN’T EVEN READ IT YET.

Mom:  I’ll bring it back.  I’ll even bring back the other one I borrowed.  (THIS.  This is why I hate lending books.)

I’m finally like, “Take the damn book.  But I want it and any other books back in a reasonable amount of time or I’m fining you.”   (I didn’t really say that.  But that’s a good idea.)

Anyway.  A day or so later she brings it back with this horrible look on her face and says, “Here.  I can’t read this.  It’s just…it’s too…this book isn’t good.”

I’m intrigued.  I knew she wouldn’t enjoy it, but if anything, I expected her to start it, forget about it, and me find it under her bed a year from now.  The fact that she brought it back holding it out like it was going to bite her was a little confusing to me.

So I started it last night.  Holy shit.  Guys.  I let my mom borrow a book in which the first two chapters include not only steamy lesbian sex, but a strap-on dildo, and extremely detailed descriptions of some rather creative pairings, such as unicorn-on-human.  (That might should be human-on-unicorn.  I’m not really clear on this.)

I think this may have cured her of borrowing my stuff.

(I told her she wouldn’t like it.)

 

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August 27, 2013

Obviously, I failed Home Ec.

By Steph

This is an excerpt from an article by Kristen Fisher on Ehow:

Bundt pans Vs. Angel food pans

While the two cake pans look similar, they should not be used interchangeably.  Bundt cake batter and angel food cake batter have different consistencies.  Angel food cake batter is usually frothier; baking a Bundt cake in an angel food pan may cause the batter to leak out from the removable bottom.

 One might think this should be fairly obvious.  It’s not.  I think this is why people call me “book smart.”

 
 Here’s the full link, in case you are similarly challenged.  Please note, although the article doesn’t specifically mention it, an angel food pan should also not be used for monkey bread.  Ever. 
http://www.ehow.com/facts_5531054_bundt-angel-food-cake-pan.html
P.S.  I didn’t know what to do at that point – I mean, the house was already full of smoke, so….I decided to finish baking the monkey bread.  I did not know this was even possible, but the burners on my stove actually filled with liquid and started smoking.  My kids are yelling at me for taking pictures.  I’m so glad my husband is not home.
P.P.S.  Why is my smoke detector that goes off every time I make toast not going off when there is literally a black cloud over the whole kitchen and half the house? 
P.P.P.S.  Do you think the monkey bread is going to taste bad?

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