Words to ponder…

You can tell when you’re on the right road because it’s generally all up hill.

All my single ladies put your hands up…

I love to see happy, well functioning couples that love each other. I’m not one of those sappy love the idea of being in love ladies, but I’m all for people finding a companion. I have reached the coupling-age and an increasing number of my friends are making co-habitation plans or getting hitched. This leads me to today’s post. And it is possible that I have written about this before, but to engaged and married women please don’t forget the single lady struggle. I’m not saying dwell on it everyday, but don’t mistreat your single girlfriends now that you are all married, fianced and boo’ed up. I’m going to give you examples of some actions you may want to avoid so you don’t piss off your single girlfriends. 

Don’t try to tell me….
This is by far the most annoying thing that ladies who are married or almost married love to do, tell you what you are doing wrong in your relationship or search for a man. I do seek and heed advice. I try to avoid unnecessary chaos and grief in my life if I can help it. If listening to your cautionary tale or advice can help me avoid misery I will take it. However, that should not be confused with being given unsolicited advice on why I don’t have a man or a ring. Especially if that advice is given while you appear to be looking down your nose at me, and I remember last week before you had that engagement rock, you were asking if I could come with you to ride by his house or help you come up with names of super heroes cause you were trying to figure out the pass code for his gmail account. You have been successful in finding a mate and you get a gold star, but that doesn’t make you an expert on finding a man. You simply found the right one for you.

Don’t deny me my plus one…

I understand that weddings are expensive. Most of the expense is the dress and providing food and beverages at the reception. If you have invited me to your wedding and you allowed me a plus one on the invitation, you can’t take it back because your budget and guest list keeps growing. Contrary to popular belief there is a shortage of single eligible bachelors at weddings. Generally all the bachelors are either ring bearers (they may be adorbale and cuddly but they are under-age) or old uncles that recently had hip replacement surgery or fall asleep as soon as they sit down. I want a date at a wedding if I can help it. You also can’t deny me my plus one because you have never met the guy and don’t consider him to be someone of importance worthy enough to attend your wedding. It doesn’t matter if I have only known him for 24 hours prior to your wedding. If he has made me happy in those 24 hours you should be happy for me. You got a man so stop hating.

Don’t go all bridezilla on me…

I’m sure everyone has seen the show bridezilla or you may have your very own bridezilla story of how your sweet, soon to be married girlfriend flipped out on you, hit you, cursed you, screamed on you, demanded unreasonableness out of you, caught some unnecessary attitude with you and expected you to just take it like a man (completely forgetting you are a woman and have feelings). I don’t think any more explanation or details are necessary for this example. Just remember your wedding day is only about 6 maybe 8 hours long and the ugliness you dish out may not be forgotten in that amount of time.

Don’t have me looking suspect…

I think brides-to-be really need to think through and analyze the sizes, shapes and shades of their wedding party before picking wedding colors and dresses. I know it’s your day and you want to be the belle of the ball, but I don’t have to look ridiculous so you can shine. Ugly dresses used to fold nicely and neatly into closets and pictures used to sit in boxes, photo albums or in cameras, but now there’s this evil thing called facebook. That means that ugly orange dress you said was coral, that gave me birthing baby hips, will be viewed by people who weren’t even at the wedding. You can stop that from happening by being a good friend and picking a universally flattering dress shape, in a flattering color.   

I think the above tips should keep the love flowing between the have man and the have man nots and save friendships.

Product Review – Huggable Hangers by Joy Mangano

I think information (or knowledge) is power. I also think that it is important to share your triumphs and trails with products. There are SOOOO many products on the market, and during recessionary times you need to be certain, now more than ever, that you are purchasing a quality product. Why waste three easy payments of $19.99 on something that doesn’t work? So I am doing my part to help consumers by sharing…

Today we are going to talk about a sad story of a closet that attacked a poor helpless girl. She was minding her own business trying to find a set of matching under garments when all of the contents in her closet came crashing down on her head and drowned her in a sea of bins, hangers, synthetic fabrics and shoe boxes. Okay that is a bit of an exaggeration, but my closet was a mess, I had so many boxes and bins and clothes precariously hung and stacked in my closet that I dreaded trying to pull anything out of it. It was easier to just wear what I kept folded in a bin outside of my closet. Then Joy’s hangers came into my life.

I watch a lot of home shopping tv. Some people flip to espn or cnn when they turn on the tv I flip to QVC and HSN. I had seen a couple of presentations of Joy Mangano’s huggable hangers, but quite frankly I was leery of buying hangers off of tv.  I had never ever purchased a hanger, ever. I was happy with all my metal and plastic hangers that I had inherited from stores and my mother and the dry cleaners. I also felt that I had wrangled my closet with bins and baskets.

Despite my attempts to get my closet under control. I had run out of space and I no longer even tried to hang clothes in my closet I hung anything new on the closet door frame, on door knobs or over chairs. I also felt a dollar per hanger was expensive. It’s hard to justify going from free to one dollar in my mind. Then Joy unvieled 486 colors with hooks in gold or silver tone. Honestly that is what swayed me. I thought wow I can have cute little green hangers. So I bought a pack and waited for them to arrive.

First let me say the huggable hangers instantly made space and brought order to my closet. I bought a pack of 100 so I could do one entire row of my closet to determine if they made a difference. Now they didn’t double the space of that row, but the hangers certainly helped me pack more clothes in.  Even though wire hangers are skinnier, they are not uniform in shape and size which causes them to take up more space 9as well as the fat plastic hangers). Having all your clothes on huggable hangers, makes everyting uniform and allows you to easily smush slide all  the clothes together. I think that is the secret to these hangers. Whatever the secret…it works and I instantly had about a third more space on that row. They also improve the over-all appearance of your closet…things just look neat and pretty.

I have only encounter two problems with these hangers. Nothing falls of those buggers. Your days of snatching a sweater off a hanger when you are trying to run out the door are OVER. You have to remove garments from these hangers. Oh and don’t get happy swiveling the hooks this will cause them to break (trying to snatch things off will cause them to break too). Although it appears the hooks screw in and out, I’ve not been able to screw the hooks back in. These are the only two problems I’ve encountered.

If you have the time and patience to rehang your clothes, I think huggable hangers are great and worth the hefty price.

The Eternal Crush…

My life is back to normal today…I’ve been having that kind of week when you want to add just 30 more minutes to each day. And it seems like you can’t quite get to everything on your MUST do today list. Anyway let me get to this so I can scratch this off my list for today…

I went to get my car washed first thing this morning. I don’t know why I decided that it needed to be washed today. I haven’t washed my car in months, but today I desired it to be so fresh and so clean. I roll into the car wash thinking there would be no line and no wait but obviously first thing in the morning is when others think to wash their cars too.

I wait in line and clean out the inside of my car. I’m stretched over the seats picking up programs and shoes and miscellaneous papers and hangers and restaurant coupons and party flyers and business cards. I don’t have any children, but you couldn’t tell only one person rides in my car by looking inside it. I decide to get out the car to throw my nice little ball of trash away and put some other things in the trunk. I toss the trash, but turn around because I feel someone looking at me. I see what looks to be probably my number 3 crush in life. I immediately duck into my trunk. I wonder if it’s him or if I am imagining things. The last time I saw him we flirted something serious, but then he admitted he had a girl so I backed off. I don’t like encroaching on other’s territory because I believe in Karma. I am also severely unsatisfied with my choice of apparel. I’m definitely looking heck-hell-tic. I really need to start acting like a grown up and heed my aunt’s advice, “Look fabulous if you leave the house.” D@mn D@mn D@mn why can’t I follow directions! There are about 8 cars ahead of me and I’m thinking if I slow down he’ll be gone before I even get to the lobby to wait for my car. I close my trunk and look over to see if he is still there. Nope, he is gone.

As soon as I realize the coast is clear, I internally slap myself for panicking and being ashamed of how I am dressed. First it might not have been him. I then give myself the get a grip girl lecture along the lines of it’s not that serious, why are you acting all pressed, and don’t you have someone you are very interested in anyway, who cares that he saw you with a scarf on your head and a jogging suit, you’re cute anyway. Despite the lecture,  I decide to put my shades on to give myself a purposeful bohemian Hollywood look (is that even really possible outside of Hollywood? and what is bohemian about a jogging suit?), but it’s the look I’m going for and I pump myself up sufficiently enough to saunter inside like I have on heels and a dress.

I hand my ticket to the lady at the counter. I hear my name right behind me. I slowly turn around. It’s him. I grin slightly, but smile internally.

“Hey Ursala!”

“Hello [Mr. 3rd Crush].” He leans in and gives me a great big bear hug.

“I can’t believe I ran into you here of all places. I thought about you last week. I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“Really?”

“But I headed out of town and I’m just getting back, that’s actually why I’m here. I parked my car at a lot and it was filthy when I found it.”

“Hmmmm”

“But good thing I like to keep my car clean, otherwise I wouldn’t have ran into you.”

“Yeah…”

“You look great by the way!” I know he is soo lying stretching the truth but I play along with it.

“Thanks.”

“It’s funny how we are always running into one another, but never purposefully.”

“Yeah…”

“So what’ve you been up to?”

Now mind you this whole time he is still “holding” me. After he bear hugged me, he kept one arm wrapped around my shoulder. He then proceeded to give the cashier money for my ticket and then steered me away from the counter. I am of course a little flustered because I have always and still do find him overwhelmingly sexy. At that moment he is too close to me for me to form coherent whole sentences. I’m going to need some space for that. I lean away from him so I can try to answer his question and this dude goes and plants a kiss right on my forehead. WTH!?!

“You’re so cute.”

I’m still stunned internally, but I try to recover externally. I turn my lean away into a whole step back. I am now a good foot away, but I decide to step back one more foot just to be sure I can speak safely without the threat of swooning or any more forehead kissing.

“I am well.”

This was all he really allowed me to add to the conversation. He’s car was up and he asked me for my number. I declined. I’ve got some pots bubbling on the stove and I want to focus on them. Don’t need to add any new cold pots to the burners. He said ok told me it was really good to see me and left.

After he was inside his car I thought dang I could’ve asked for HIS number just in case things don’t work out for me. I hate that I don’t think on my toes (can that be learned or is that just inate?) But maybe there are people you are never meant to talk to or explore anything with. The timing is always bad. Either they are engaged or you are in a relationship or they just came out of a long term relationship or you are a sentence away from being in a relationship, etc. I don’t think we will ever get an opportunity to talk. I think whatever opportunity we may have had passed in grade school. I can’t say that I don’t know him, but I don’t know him in the I’m trying to get to know you because I want to be your girl sense. Plus EVERY time I run into him, either he or I have something else going on. Due to circumstances and or timing I guess he will eternally be a crush, nothing more, nothing less. Just someone I desire, flirt with, and think about from time to time.

Product Review – No! No! Hair Removal System

Oooooh I didn’t successfully post yesterday : x

I think information (or knowledge) is power. I also think that it is important to share your triumphs and trails with products with everyone. There are SOOOO many products on the market, and during recessionary times you need to be certain, now more than ever, that you are purchasing a quality product. So I am sharing information today.

Let it be known that I am a sucker for good marketing. I often try new things even though I am perfectly fine with the product I use.  I must admit I am often overwhelmed with the number of  products I am bombarded with in magazines and on tv, but I do my part to stimulate the economy by purchasing new and or imporved products. There are certain items I will always try these include new mascaras, face creams and products that promise to reduce or remove hair.

Today, along with a product review, I am going to share with you a dirty little secret about me. I have a stubborn little problem. I have an intense ongoing struggle/battle with my HAIR. Specifically the hair on my stomach…in the happy trail region. I am very self conscious about it. Over the years I have done many things to this area of my body. I have shaved, waxed, naired, threaded, plucked and I have even suffered through electrolysis. The electrolysis treatments were by far the most PAINFUL thing I have ever intentionally done to  my body. I used the emla cream that the dermatologist prescribed me, but that didn’t help the burning/stinging sensation. It was horrible and after 5 treatments I just couldn’t bare the pain. I have thought about laser treatments, but the electrolysis tramautized me so I’ve not seriously considered it. Despite my fear of hair removal procedures that use lasers, lights, beams or rays of any sort I saw the No! No! Hair Removal System (another dirty secret I buy stuff off of tv) on tv and had to have it. It uses some type of thermo-something technology and promised NO PAIN. I decided to go for a shiny pink one and couldn’t wait for it to arrive.

I got it. I used it. I want to let you know that the No! No! does not work. The product does not claim to remove hair forever, but does claim to slow growth and reduce hair density. I interpreted that to mean that I would have finer, sparser hair growth. The idea of finer and or sparser hair growth excited me. The No! No! does neither of these two claims.

You are supposed to glide it over the area of your body you want to reduce hair growth and voila it’s smooth and hair free. At least on the models on tv it was. I repeatedly passed the unit over my belly over a 3 x 4 inch area and it never became smooth. I believe the unit simply singes your hair. Then after the hair is singed you use this little buffer similar to that hair away product and I guess this is supposed to smooth everything.  It does not. There is also a horrible smell associated with the singed hair. I would tolerate the smell, but my skin was never smooth. There was visible stubble throughout the entire region, but I don’t think the way the unit functions it’s possible for the skin to be completely smooth. The little wire that singes the hair doesn’t get close enough to the skin, which is probably why there is no pain. Each time I have used it, I’ve shaved afterwards. This wouldn’t be a big deal because I sometimes shave after nairing, but I have seen no reduction in my hair density or growth. Plus after all those passes it never leaves a smooth surface. Bottom line it’s an extreme waste of time and the smell is TERRIBLE. At $250 this product is a dud and I would advise you not to purchase it.

On thursday fate intervened…

The events that sealed my fate…

I receive a text from Mr. Mean. I am torn about whether or not I should reply. I tell myself I don’t like him so why lead him on.

My mother calls me on Thursday and says she’s  in the neighborhood and stopping by. I’ve noticed that she has started a texting/calling campaign for me to go to church with her on Thursday night (as if my attendance on Sunday is not enough), but I’ve declined or given her some excuse each time. It’s much easier to put a Mother off on the phone or by text…much harder to do it in person. So I end up going to church with her.

I walk into the lobby of the church and immediately see Mr. Mean. He smiles and walks over. I decide that he is smiling at my Mother since she is “squealing” his name. They exchange hello’s. Then my Mother introduces us. She winks at me and walks away.

Mr. Mean knows I got his text, but doesn’t mention it.

Mr. Mean formally asks me out on a date.

I say yes.

We are going out on Saturday.

He texted me…

Okay so I was all hyperventilating and disturbed about Mr. Mean not calling me because I felt he was being all unfair again, but this time by not calling me. Even if it was rightfully so after I rejected him twice. All that didn’t matter. I had an all out stank mood and had convinced myself that somebody else had my number.

Oh but wait, I had all but given up on him ever calling me and then he texts me Thursday. Booooooooooo! On him for texting, but at least he reached out. Ah the relief it provided.

His Text

Hi Ursala, This is L______ from church. Your mama gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind me contacting you. How are you? 

Hmmm so I’ve been trying to determine what I should say or if I should say anything at all. Technically I just wanted him to still desire me and him reaching out (even if it wasn’t an actual phone call) lifted my spirits and I no longer feel rejected. However, since I was all out of sorts I feel like I should respond.

Waiting for his call…continued

I am not happy today. I’m in a mood, maybe not a bad mood, but definitely a mood. I’ll just say I’m moody. He hasn’t called. What is he waiting on?

Waiting by the phone…

I’m having computer techincal issues today that will postpone posting. Sucks.

Okay here it is.

So of course all today I have been waiting for THE call from Mr. Mean. It’s like I’m 15 and waiting for some boy I have a crush on to call me. I’m all anxious and stuff. I know I know I should not be concerned. I mean didn’t he tell me off? Told me I complained about the lack of good men and told me I was mean. Please note that I do not complain about the lack of good men in my eyes good men are plentiful. But I DO complain about the situations, encounters, incidents and misunderstandings I have with men. I was offended when he called me mean. I felt like he was more than a little rough with me. He didn’t know me. I felt he was taking out his frustrations of being rejected by yet another woman on me. Plus he raised his voice at me. Oh and he embarrassed me in front of complete strangers while I was at church. All of this was a problem and is a problem. It is why I saw him and attempted to act like we had never met before. It is why I leaped over the lap of a teenage man child to keep from having to interact with him after the service let out. I have a problem with him. I do not like him.

Despite my disdain for him I must admit I have been waiting for his call. I didn’t expect him to call on Sunday, but I did expect him to call today, Monday.  I believe that it’s important for new suitors to establish their interest within 24 hours of getting the digits. It shows me they are serious, interested and not trying to be cute and coy. However, since I didn’t give him my number I don’t think this rule applies. I am not sure what rule applies. All I know is that I am actually getting upset that he hasn’t called. At first I knew exactly what I was going to say, but now since he hasn’t called and I am perplexed, I am not sure what I am going to say. Or if I will even have an opportunity. What if he doesn’t call? I don’t know if I am prepared for this type of rejection. I know I rejected him first, but I don’t want to be rejected.

Why do I even care? Especially since I don’t like him. Because I know that he likes me or is at least a little interested. It’s simple now that he doesn’t seem to want me it makes me desire him. Crazy! I know. Maybe our last encounter completely turned him off. Which on one hand is good, but on the other hand now I want to prove to him that I’m actually pretty swell. Now that he hasn’t called I’m wondering what’s up. Note to self: Tell Mother never to give my number out without my express permission.

What’s funny is that I have now convinced myself that some other pretty boy did indeed have on a similar suit, with a name oddly similar to Mr. Mean’s, met my mother, got my number and is not calling because they took my number out of pity from my Mother who probably was peddling her daughter off as some fantastical woman something akin to a sparkly, rainbow-hued unicorn. Meaning he didn’t believe her because we all know unicorns don’t exist. So it’s ok or this is what I’m telling myself. Serves me right for being ugly to him at church, of all places.

It’s Sunday…

and I went to church. That’s what I’ve been up to this summer on Sundays. I go to church. It makes my mother so happy. I generally meet up with her after the service. When she sees me she just beams, and when she sees someone she knows she always introduces me as her daughter followed up with a great big smile. It’s funny her apparent happiness propels me to church now even if I don’t want to go.  

What’s better is that I actually got to church on time. So I wasn’t relegated to the rafters. I am very content to sit in the rafters because there is a lot more space. When you are seated on the bottom (or I should say on the sanctuary floor) they don’t like to leave the customary seat between each person. It’s like the movies when it’s opening night for a block buster they pack you in and there is a body in every seat. When I arrived I was directed to a partially empty aisle and told to go all the way down to the end. I made my way down the aisle and put my bag in the seat next to a very large teenage boy man. He was taken up a good one third of the seat that I sat my bag in. Side caveat: He really was taking up way more space then he needed to. I know that guys need space for the banana and berries, but my word there should be limits to how wide they can sit. They should square up with their shoulders or something there’s got to be a consistent way to bring order to the ridiculousness. Before I could sit down, an usher that I didn’t see quickly came over and asked me to move down a seat and hold my bag in my lap. Dang! He caught me. I picked my bag up and moved over as best I could into two thirds of my seat. I situated my bag in my lap and when I look up who do I see walking down the aisle? None other than Mr. Mean.

This is actually funny because I go to a rather large church, it is considered a mega church by some standards. While my church is large, it’s obviously not large enough to keep me from running into Mr. Mean again. I thought maybe he doesn’t recognize me so I immediately turned back to the pulpit. When he sat down he leaned over and said “I guess the Lord decided that our paths should cross again.” To my chagrin he remembered me. I didn’t respond I kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I guess we are on the same schedule.” Again I didn’t respond. He leaned back over “You look very nice today.” To this I nodded (I know how to take a compliment), but kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I’m still holding a brunch rain check just for you. What are you doing after church?” I leaned over and said “Thank you, but I won’t be using that rain check today or any other day.” I was actually expecting something harsh from him, but he said “I apologize. I hope you aren’t holding what I said before against me.” My response to this was a “ShhhHhhHhhhHhhhhush!” I then turned away from him, crossed my legs and attempted to find a space for my foot between the large leg of the teenage man and the seats in front of us. Despite my unreceptive body language, he was not the least bit concerned because he whispered in my ear “You need to forgive me so we can move on.” I inched closer to the teenage man, which caused him to turn and look at me. I just smiled and nestled myself behind his large arm and our shared portion of my seat.

Mr. Mean continued whispering every once and a while throughout the sermon things such as, “Your hair smells good, your shoes are pretty, I see you got a tan it looks nice, You should let me take you out I promise you’ll have fun.” I kept my back to him the whole service. As soon as the service was over, I leaped across the teenage man to get out of the aisle and bolted towards the exit. I looked back a few times, but didn’t see him. So I was safe.

I met up with my mom at our designated spot. She ran into a co-worker and of course introduced me. My Mother has the gift of loquaciousness so I politely excused myself and went to my car. As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot my mother called me.

“Hey Mama.”

“Are you still in the lobby?”

“No, I just pulled out of the parking lot. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just met the nicest man.”

“Lucky You. Just what you’ve been praying for.”

“Not for me. For You!”

Then I hear her telling someone to talk to me.

“Hey Ursala!”

“Hello?!?”

“We give you our blessing. I know him. He is very nice, comes from a good family, no kids, never been married and he has a great job.”

Then I hear my mother asking for her cell back

“Mama?”

“Ursala, he’s cute, not like you like them, he’s a pretty boy.”

“You’re funny Mother.”

“I’m just telling you that he is nice looking.”

“Ok.”

“I gave him your number.”

“What?!? Mother!!! No!”

“Yes, he’s a good guy, comes to church, looks nice, comes from a wonderful family. He was so nice he gave us a ride to my car. You should thank me.”

“Wait, you got in a car with a stranger. You can’t do that.”

“He isn’t a stranger, Mrs. B_____ knows his mother. And he goes to church”

“Just because he goes to church doesn’t mean anything. He is a stranger to you. And you gave my number to this strange man. A man you don’t know.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I know you’ll like him.”

My Mother has discerning taste, but she has never given my number to anyone so I’m a little concerned about her experimental match making.

“It doesn’t matter considering you’ve already given him my number. What if he starts calling me all the time?”

“Don’t answer your phone then.” I can tell she is exasperated with me, but I’m equally exasperated with her for giving my number to some strange man just because she met him at church.

“Mother you know I can’t do that I have to answer all calls to my cell right now. Well what did he look like?” I decided to be nice and not work my Mother’s nerves since I know she meant well.

“I told you already he’s a pretty boy.” I can tell I’m already working a nerve because I’m clearly not paying attention since I asked a question she has already answered.

“Could you be a little bit more specific? And what’s his name?”

“His name is L_____.”

“Wait did he have on a brown suit and a purply-lavenderish shirt?”

“Yes, he looked so nice.”

“NoOoooOoooo Mother you didn’t give that man my number.” Oh no my Mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. “Please tell me you are just playing or you meant to say you got his number for me.”

“He has your number and he is going to call you.” Click. My Mother almost never says bye when she is done talking she just hangs up.

I hoped there was some other pretty boy, in a brown suit, with the same name as Mr. Mean at church. I highly doubt it. I can’t believe my mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. The question is did he know it was my Mother or did she just pimp me out?

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