Hollywood

Sunday Threads

Feb

Surprise – today I have a face because I wanted you to see my hot pink eyeshadow from MAC. Isn’t it great? Or scary? I had somebody tell me it made me look scary. Ha! Okay, so let this be a warning to you, if I don’t love you, I will cut you in half. I shouldn’t be allowed to have scissors. That’s what happened to this sweater. I wanted to wear it with this dress, but it was just too long. I kept muttering to myself, “it’s not like I love this sweater or anything..” Cue the lightbulb.

I will hack it off!

Originally I intended to cut the bottom ribbing off and sew it back on to make it super cropped sweater, but I was in no condition to use a sewing machine. (I spent all day yesterday making a monkey cake for Dutch’s birthday and I was chugging Nyquil and talking a loud to myself a lot. Besides isn’t there a warning on Nyquil not to operate heavy machinery?) So while I was sprawled out on my bedroom floor, scissors in hand, sweater mid hack, I paused, and thought “maybe i should go asymmetrical” so that’s what I did. When I’m not feeling so loopy crazy I’ll probably sew the bottom back on.

Also, I love stripes. My mom bought this for me at Target when she was here (it’s a racerback tank at the top). And it needed some color, therfore the shoes. Also, for those of you not here, I gave a talk in church today. I made the mistake of taking Tylenol flu & cold tablets. I thought it was best not to sniff and cough all over the mic. What I didn’t know is that apparently that medication makes me woozy and jittery. So now, everybody at church fo’ sho knows I’m on drugs. Nice.

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Dear Angry Baker

Sep

Dear Angry Baker,

I’ve procrastinated and I need help fast! I’m going to a girlfriend’s wedding next week. I leave Saturday morning Oct. 9th, so I don’t have much time. I’ve known this girl since college. This is her second marriage, so she’s already settled with a house and the typical things that go in a house. She’s obsessed with Anthropologie, so I’ve been looking for something in that style. I was thinking of maybe some stationary with their initials on it or their names. I don’t know. I need a few more ideas. Could you help me? You always scour the internet and find such great ideas! Oh, and that’s the other problem — I would need it to arrive at my house before I leave or find it in a store. Should I just go with the generic, but always nice giftcard?

Hollywood

Dear Hollywood,

It’s true, I don’t have anything better to do than hunt down something wonderful that you’ll be given all the credit for. This works out great. So, stationary huh? Stationary is nice. It’s nice Hollywood, but it is kind of lame – reason being that (hello!) nobody uses stationary. It’s really only fun to look at and then it sits on your desk getting piled on until eventually you shove it into a drawer where you won’t have to look at it because it reminds you of all the letters you haven’t written. Stationary= guilt.

Okay, so she’s been married before and has an established house, so to speak. That means we can cross off all of the traditional wedding stuff. No toasters, dishes, or vacuums. This is a bit tricky because we want something for both of them that says, “Hey! I really want you to have a happy and rewarding life together!” So here’s what I’ve come up with (keeping in mind I have never met these people):

(and don’t forget to click through the pics – I made it easy for you, cuz I’m like that)

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The Game

Sep

“What about her?”

“No.”

“Not even the butt?”

“No moTHER.” My surly teenage voice huffs the last syllable. Seriously? How many times can we do this?

This is a little game my mom used to play, called “Am I as fat as her?” She would drag us into it at the least expected moment. The only rule that you must reply. I think it’s safe to say we all hated it, and none of us understood it. Especially since she would pick women that were morbidly obese. She wasn’t joking about it. I don’t ever remember an instance of saying yes. I do remember that was a particular mother torture that she enjoyed inflicting. I swore I would never do it to my kids.

I gave in a few years back and started saying “why? because I’m the mom.” But I’m happy to report that I do not engage in The Game with my kiddos. I also know more about it now that I’m older. I know now I was playing my own version of The Game by myself back then. I would spot myself in reflections or mirrors and try to blank out my mind – try to pretend I wasn’t myself – and assess the reflection as if I were a stranger. Am I pretty? Do I have too many freckles? Would I give myself a second look? I wanted to know what other people saw without my personal mind baggage. It never worked. I just saw the slightly crooked teeth, the fair skin, the zits, the frizzy hair, the chicken legs, and the witchy chin. I gave up on my game in college, deciding I would never fall within the parameters of traditional or mainstream good looks. I would have to be an acquired taste. I was healthy and capable and that’s the most I could really ask for.

The idea never left me though. I thought I hit the jackpot when Hollywood married an identical twin. After the requisite getting-to-know you period, I asked Not Napoleon about what it’s like to be able to see yourself as someone else. Not in a mirror, but somebody who looks just like you. Not Napoleon is a chatty guy with his own distinct brand of humor. After 10 minutes of really loud observations about how much better looking he was than his identical twin, I realized I should not have asked a guy.

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Dear Angry Baker

Aug

Got a question for me? Want to know my random thoughts on fashion? awkward people? what to do if you get caught with the dreaded booger? or how to scare friends and alienate people? I’m your girl. I’ll answer as honestly and painfully as I can. I’m guessing what I can’t hear right now is a resounding “No!”

I’m going to give it a try anyway. Hollywood put me up to this, so if nothing else the two of us will just sit around making stuff up. Who wants an example?

Perhaps you are in a conundrum of redecorating a room, for instance. Maybe you could send a letter like this:

Dear Angry Baker,

I’m currently working on a room for my 8 year old son. I bought a really cool bed from Craigslist and I put a lot of time in cleaning it up and getting it painted. Then I found out the bed is smaller than I thought and I had to track down somebody to make a prison-size mattress for my boy. I finally got that all sorted out and then, I realized that the awesome robot sheets we bought for the bed wouldn’t fit quite so nicely anymore. And well, I’m married to someone who just can’t let go of things once they get in her head. What can I do?

Love and hot kisses,

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Living the Dream

Jun

I’m about to torture you. Feel free to eye-roll and gag yourself as you read. I totally blame Hollywood for this post (and you should too).

I have a personal chef for the summer.

WHAT THE WHAT??! Yes, someone who does my cooking for me. Let me get this straight – this is not normal for us. This is EXTRAVAGANT and unnecessary and very very awesome. I talk all the time about how a chef would make my life so much easier, but it’s just pie-in-the-sky glib remarks. At least that’s what I thought.

Let’s backtrack a bit.

MB and I had a crappy anniversary back in April. He was sick. (He is never sick.) While he spent the day in bed trying not to ask me for anything, I spent the day caring for the kids. Typical. I sound bitter because I am since EVERY personal holiday we’ve had this year has been ruined, postponed, or lacking in preparation. (It’s tricky to type and shake my fist at the universe at the same time.) MB hinted to me the night before our anniversary that I was never going to figure out what he got for me. He was smugly pleased with himself and his selection. Truthfully I thought he had finally got a second family car for us to save us both the headache of the circular car conversation that we can’t escape. Which is cool, but we’re talking about minivans – used minivans – so it’s not that exciting.

That afternoon I laid down next to him (laid? lay? I hate that word) for a few minutes to chat and avoid the short people. He blurts out, “I got you a personal chef. Happy Anniversary!” I didn’t believe him and I didn’t think it was funny, so I couldn’t figure out what the deal was. The deal is this: He got me a personal chef.

Let me explain just a bit more because I can’t keep dodging your evil looks without defending myself. Our chef is Rachel Lori and she comes to our house every 2 weeks. She has a deal with a local farmer, so we sign up for their CSA and then she comes when we get our delivery and she uses it up.

The first day was yesterday and it was AMAZING. The house still smells savory and homey. Rachel brings everything she needs and spends 4 hours making family dinners for us. When she was done we had a counter full of meals: Meatballs in marinara, black beans and rice, braised chicken with cilantro, vegetable lasagna, potato and chard saute (served in whole wheat tortillas), and tabouli made with bulgar and radishes. And the servings are so huge that I’m pretty sure we can get 2 meals out of each dish. And the best part? She cleans everything up – all of my pots and pans, the countertops, the sink – she even wiped down my stovetop!

The kids were running around the neighborhood bragging about “their chef,” which was slightly embarrassing, and a little bit cute because they realized how uncommon it was. Maxine reported to her friend that, “we have a chef making our dinner.” Dramatic pause. “And it’s not even my mom!” I’m not sure how we would have hid it anyway since you could smell everything 2 houses down. I’m very sheepish about this all. (I suppose I won’t mention the private jet.) It is very luxurious and it is the best gift. I spent all morning playing with the kids and there was no nagging voice about what to make for dinner. No need to run into the kitchen and start a marinade, or chop up veggies. Since most of you are not on Twitter, I will just repeat my tweet for you:

Money CAN buy my happiness.

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Cheer

May

Here’s what’s making me happy today:

1) Thinking of McChristmas, MD, and Phun taking care of their new baby girl. I cannot wait to meet her. (Did I tell you I am heading your way?)

2) MB’s comment from 2 nights ago, wherein he compared LegoManiac to Manny from Modern Family.

3) Maxine finishing up her 3rd plate of salad.

4) Dutch walking in circles on her tippy toes.

5) This ad from Toyota. I have no qualms telling you that I really wish I could have been the mom in this video. I’ve never envied a commercial actor before, this is a first. The more I think about it though (and really the amount of thought and times I’ve watched it is embarrassing) I think the perfect cast would have been Hollywood and Not Napoleon. Swagger wagon. Awesome. Sadly, it doesn’t change the fact that the Sienna is ridiculously overpriced.

Where my motherfathers at? Ahahhahhahahhaha! Brilliant ad campaign. I hope somebody got a big fat raise for this idea.

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Treaties for your Sweeties ♥♥♥

Feb

I’ve been trying to be more thoughtful about holidays, which basically equates to homemade in my mind. So for V-day I got some ideas online (and from my sis-in-law whose blog name just came to me – she’s Hollywood from here on out). Here are some crafty links for all of you that think buying a box of licensed characters isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m just going to add the links for now and then I can work on making it look better later.

I got the stuff to make these fabric envelopes after seeing the tutorial on Sew Mama Sew. Now if I’m actually going to get it done today remains to be seen. I love the felt messages and the mix and match messages. Serious cute factor going on:

Get your love on here.

Also, I’ve got some extra felt so Maxine will be rockin’ a bracelet at some point in the near future:

Hearts ARE Love.

And Hollywood forwarded me this great idea for little candies and little handsies:

Rip, rip, yum, yum.

The munchkins are getting love books this year. I think any excuse is good enough to buy a book. But that’s just me.

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