Freaky Friday

 Happy Friday everyone! My kids are off  of school and have naturally been fighting for the last half hour. I went to a downright PUNISHING workout this morning and I don't have the energy to play referee. At this point, it's basically like natural selection, right?

I kid.

Kind of.

Also, thanks to everyone who has sent in submissions for the Trashy Halloween Contest thus far. I love love love having readers who are willing to do that and I've received some DOOZIES (and/or floozies heh heh heh) this year.

For now, let's just do a normal Freaky Friday, though.

Oh dear these pants. I feel like they want to be a classy animal print but instead wound up klassy and that one letter makes a big difference. 

Also. Dat 18 inch crotch.

 I don't usually do kids clothes because my children dress like hobos on the reg, but this dress scared me in a Margaret Atwood Handmaid's Tale kind of way. (Yeaaaaah literary humor)

 If you don't just instinctively know these pants and heels are wrong, we are probably not friends. 

 Ugh, have I ever talked about how much I hate shirts with like, paragraphs of self-statements on them? No one needs to know this about you. NO ONE. What, am I going to stand there for 45 seconds so I can get to know you based on your novelty long-sleeve T?

The fact that you're wearing one at all is enough for me.

Finally! A dress I can wear when Richard Gere rescues me from a life of selling my body on the streets!

 Took me a minute to realize what this slopjacket reminded me of:

(Man, a lot of movie references today!)

 I know this is supposed to make for a more flattering figure, but it really just makes me think of square ovaries and I'm sorry for that.

OKAY now I can go cry in shower because my shoulders hurt, don't mind me I just did like 6,499 chaturangas today and want to saw them off. My kids are still fighting. I think I'm just going to let them battle to the death, Gladiator-style. 

Byeeeeeeeee!

Freaky Friday... on a Thursday

I'm forgoing a traditional Freaky Friday to tell you all about my hellish morning yesterday. It was true freakiness and resulted in me crying at Downton Abbey reruns for no reason at all, except that I was tired and things weren't going my way,

So, I'm a person who doesn't do well with changes to her schedule. I like things to be verrrrrry predictable, so when something is changed, I'm kind of like: 

And this can mean any minor change. Like, I don't even like it when someone rings my doorbell and it wasn't scheduled in my phone. Picture day at school is one of these minor changes that I fail at. Because it's not part of my regular schedule, I always end up forgetting or sending my kids in weird clothes or last year, missing them completely and then having to do makeup day and the pictures were horrible with a capital H. 

But this year? This year would be different. I would finally prove myself to be the capable adult that I play on TV. So I saved the date in my phone. I set alarms to remind me the day before and then one hour and 30 minutes pre-picture day so there was no freaking way I would ever forget.

The night before, per my reminder, I started getting the kids ready. They both got baths, and not the kind where I make them get in the shower because they're being annoying and I need like, five minutes and I don't care how clean they really get. Like, head-to-toe, scrubbing the toes with loofahs and such to get them clean. And my daughter has roughly 43 pounds of hair, so it takes forever to wash.

But you know what? I had planned for this. I knew what I was doing. I was CONFIDENT. 

I then commenced the process of blowdrying my Muppet daughter's hair, flat ironing and using rollers to give it bounce, which we discussed at length. I also pressed and starched their clothes, which never ever happens ever. 

Thursday morning I let the kids sleep in because no one wants to see a baggy-eyed kindergartner. I got them up, got them dressed, re-flat ironed hair, added gel for perfect spikes: You name it. I even got myself dressed and had cut up muffins to eat in the car on the way and gave myself the exact amount of time needed to get them to school five minutes in advance of the bell. Look at me go. 

.

Aaaaaand that's when all hell broke loose. I sent the kids out to the car. When I went to grab my keys out of my purse, they weren't there. That's fine, that's why key hooks were invented. Except they weren't there. I ran upstairs to check the bedside table, my desk, everywhere, No keys. This is a problem for me. 

I had just grabbed my phone to call Justin when my daughter came back in the house and said the words that no mother who has just taken her children out of school for two weeks wants to hear. 

"I think I'm going to throw up." 

So I'm trying to talk her into feeling better with a bottle of water while frantically typing out text messages to Justin that say things like "KEYS!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" and "I'm freaking out right now" and "ANSWER YOUR PHONE" liked a crazed girlfriend. He answers and lets me know that my keys are in his pocket, and his pocket is currently in a meeting at work.

Luckily, Justin knows that I lose my everloving mind when stuff like this happens, so as I'm literally barking at him over the phone, he's already in his car to come home and drive my kindergartner (who has been waiting on the porch this entire time) to school. In the meantime, I shriek unintelligibly about Addie being sick at the worst possible time because I had to go to the store to buy goat cheese.

When Justin comes home, I naturally apologize profusely because I'm seriously an animal when I stress out. I hand him Andrew's backpack and give him strict instructions to check in at the school office and let his teacher know I won't be there to help today. Crisis averted. 

Five minutes later, Justin calls, asking where the picture day money. In all of my fastidious picture day planning, I had forgotten that you have to have a way to PAY FOR THEM. And wouldn't you know it? They only take cheques or cash, neither of which he has. 

This caused me to burst into tears. HOW DID THINGS GO SO WRONG? And, because I lack the life skills to remember that I could just pay online, I sent my husband to the gas station to get cash. 

But there was no cash back option.

So he had to go to an ATM. 

And then back to the gas station to break two $20 bills.

And then back to the school to hand the photographer the envelope, which was stuffed with bills and a few quarters because it turns out, the gas station wasn't great at making change.

In the meantime, my mom FaceTimed me to talk about a graphic design project she needed help on. She said, and I quote "I waited a couple days to call you because last time we talked you were grouchy and I wanted you to be in a good mood." 

I tell her to hang on, so I can commence calling Justin frantically every five minutes, because when I get worked up about something, there's a very small part of me saying "Jae, this doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things" and I suppress it and instead act like the money for picture day is now akin to transporting a live organ from the donor to the recipient. IT MUST BE DONE IN TIME.

And guess what? Everything was totally fine. My husband got the (completely unnecessary) cash there on time, my keys are safely in my purse, my daughter never barfed (and was in fact, fine after two episodes of Power Rangers) and I got my goat cheese.

Later, after my son got home from school, I drove to a treat store nearby and ordered 12 sugar cookies from the drive-thru for some stress-eating. The guy taking my order was like "What a world we live in, huh? You can get sugar cookies from the drive-thru. What could be better than that?" and I was like "Thanks for that insight, Cookie Yoda." 

After I have a stress episode like that, I kind of feel like The Hulk after he's like, destroyed a building. I wake up and am like "What happened? Did I do that? OMG I'm so sorry." 

I'm happy to report, however, that today, all of my plans have been executed perfectly, such as:

Showering

Eating a cookie

Looking up funny sloth gifs

Napping 

Moral of the story? Simplify. And next year, skip $@&# picture day. 

Freaky Friday

You guys, I'm excited about grownup things today. Not *that* grownup. Get your mind out of the gutter. But finally, after a forever-long wait, my appliances are being installed. And after my new gas range was popped into place last night, I realized that I now need to go buy grownup cooking utensils. Sadly, the $50 pots and pans I got for my wedding shower 11 years ago won't cut it anymore (plus they're all dented and missing the lids somehow and I just can't shame my pretty new range with that garbage).

So that's on my list today: Buying pots and a new microwave. And I'm actually excited about that, so I guess I'm officially 30 now.

I also have a fun night with my hospital volunteer friends planned: Once a year we get together and prep stuff for the holidays and order in food and work into the wee hours of the morning and are just generally ridiculous.

Ugh Friday, you never disappoint.

So THAT'S what I'm missing from my workouts: Disco!

(Also, is it me or does this model look like a less coked-out Lindsay Lohan? Oh, she would have been so pretty). 

 Rebecca was boot shopping and sent over these beauties, which look like a stoner poncho but for feet, so even your shoes look like your life is going nowhere. 

 Bethany sent over this super special billiards dress, which is not two words I would usually put together. But my favorite part is the search term in the screenshot: Bethany, you must explain yourself immediately. 

 I've been lazily keeping track of the Fashion Week(s) hubbub and I feel like every blogger ever is shoving lace-up heels in my face. I'm sorry, but I've never seen someone wearing these shoes and thought "Wow, she sure doesn't look like a hooker." I haaaaate them. And this is coming from a diehard shoe lover. 

 Kim and Kanye: When your faces are emblazoned on what appears to be a child's macaroni-based Mother's Day present for her mom, you know you've finally made it. 

 Party in the front. But also party in the back? And party in the boobs. So basically wear this if you want to appear intellectual.

Also, this dress is called "Do Not Attempt," which I feel like is sending me really mixed messages. So wait, I shouldn't buy this dress? So we agree then. 

Dear Sperry:

I don't know what the crap this boot, boat shoe, leopard hybrid is, but it stops now. 

 Now at Chicos: Sassy clown pants for the over 60 set. 

Beth sent me these shoes, which are apparently trying to out-ugly Crocs and doing a stupendous job, really. 

Alright, I still have to get through a workout before I can throw my hands in the air like I just don't care and go shopping for kitchen supplies like a boss. Hope your Friday is equally as scintillating!

Freaky Friday

 Oh, we are on the cusp of a long weekend and the possibilities are endless. JK my weekend is already planned so the possibilities are actually contained in a short list of activities. We're hauling our boat up our cabin for a weekend of fishing (read: tanning and reading while Justin wrangles the kids' fishing poles) but we're also planning on hitting a massive craft fair and eating a lot. Also, it's Justin's birthday on Monday, so we have some fun plans for that too. Yes, his mother was in labor on Labor Day. I like to remind him of that relentlessly. I am very excited.

Right now, I need to do some running around and packing of the boat. But also some snarking because I'm me.

How do we feel about these silky jogging pants? I wanted to be OK with them, but I was out to dinner with some friends and saw a girl wearing them with sky-high heels and they were doing very unpleasant things to her but. See above. 

 When I was a kid my mom practically rented me out as a flower girl in various weddings. I was adorable. Anyway, one wedding was completely done in this exact teal green satin because it was 1991 and that was appropriate back then. It was just about as fashionable as this abomination. 

 All I can see is a pump eating a hiking boot. 

 I wish you could have seen me jump when I first looked at this shoe. Like, I flinched away from the computer. 

 "Like, I want to look like a farmer, but a farmer who has spent some time in the city and is not disillusioned by the smell of cows." 

These pants are $100. $100 to look like a demented member of a 70s family band. 

 Look, I am aware I have the maturity level of a 12-year-old boy but when I see this shirt all I can see is a part of the female anatomy. I'M SORRY but I can't change who I am. 

I'm in the middle of a book that has a lot of information on the Puritan movement in England and eventually the United States. Those people were nuts. And threw people in rivers to see if they were witches. And dressed like this. 

And with that, I'm off. Happy long weekend everyone! Hope you eat lots of BBQ and wear sunscreen because premature aging ain't no joke. 

Freaky Friday

 It's my son's kindergarten testing day and both my kids are still passed out in bed. One day we'll work out a predictable schedule, I just know it. For now, I'm waking them up 20 minutes before the bus gets here. Hey, it's about priorities: In my home, sleep trumps all.

He starts officially on Monday, so it'll kick off the first day of me being kid-less all morning. I don't even know what I'll do with myself. Probably rummage around for cereal and watch the Today Show when I should be doing something more productive.

But also blogging about bad clothes, because that's my true calling in life.

Val sent over this skirt, which has a viewing panel for the least flattering part of your body and the convenient addition of saddlebags. 

 Deborah sent me this "prom dress" (PROM DRESS) that looks like it was made from those chenille extra blankets every hotel room has in its closet. 

 I got this excellent diaper skirt from Brenda. This is what happens when you have kids, guys: Diapers scar you so deeply for life that they're all you can see. 

Don't even get me started on the Diaper Genie. Otherwise known as the "Swamp Tube" in our home.

Brenda also sent these, which definitely look like Fat Steps on "The Mindy Project."

I really, really miss "The Mindy Project." Summer TV sucks. Thanks for nothing, "Bachelor in Paradise."

B was on a roll, because she also sent me this loin cloth. I like that the person who pinned this gave suggestions to make it more attractive. How about killing it with fire, along with those awful sandals?

Pin that, suckers.  

 I feel like this could be a costume choice for "Game of Thrones." Maybe I'll just buy it and lord myself over people from the carpool line in my Tahoe at school. 

 It's like this scarf was a project your kid made and now you have to pretend like you love it. "Aw, sweetie! I love that you used so much glitter. Okay, mommy's just going to stuff this in the back of her closet where it will be safe forever." 

 Just when you think there's no possible way to mess up a plain button-up, you scroll your mouse past this. 

I love that this sweater is the world's worst shade of pink, but also that it has holes riiiiiiight about where your nipples would be. Granted, I would hope you'd be wearing a bra and never buy this sweater, so I guess it's OK. 

Oh geez, I am cutting things dangerously close time-wise over here. Showing up late to everything is an excellent way to set a precedent, right?

Freaky Friday

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