Frownies

Not just a cutesie facial expression.*

If you know me in real life then you’ve undoubtedly heard this story before. Sorry. I love attention, so I’m repeating it on the Internet. I have no shame.

My dear little Aussie is something of a professional escape artist. He loves nothing more than to have a quick run down to the beach – with or without me. Luckily, he’s been taught to pause and look both ways before crossing any street. I’m serious. It’s an excellent skill/trick.

So the other morning I found myself chasing after my little Houdini. In my pajamas, fuzzy slippers and Frownies still on. What’s a Frownie, you say? Oh, just the best anti-wrinkle treatment ever. But mostly, it just a big ol’ glorified stamp that’s glued to your forehead and the outside corners of your eyes. (You should really just Google them, I seriously love them.)

All of this is not so bad. I’ve definitely done more embarrassing things in public. Here’s the thing though, I live by the beach. A beach where handsome sun gods, aka surfers, flock to. In droves. Now, as I made my way down to the beach, in my pajamas, I noticed that my sweet little dog has stopped. Well, not exactly stopped. He’d been caught. By a seriously handsome surfer. At this point I should mention that my pajamas in the summer are made up of a t-shirt and a pair of ratty boxers that have almost no elastic left in the waistband and thus have a tendency to fall down if not gathered into a bunch on the side and held tight by either a hair elastic or an extra large safety pin. (Judge if you must.) The next few moments are forever engrained into my mind and went a little something like this:

Ridiculously Handsome Surfer Dude: Looks like you’ve got yourself a runaway.

Me: I know. Thank you so much for grabbing him. I guess he decided to go on his walk without me today.

RHSD: Haha. No problem. What’s his name?

Me: Sh*!head. I mean, Valentino.

RHSD. Cool name. My names Chad by the way…

Me: (Inner dialogue: oh god, I’m wearing my Frownies still, aren’t I? And I think my boxers are about to fall down.). Ugh…I have to go.

***Grabs dog by collar and hightails it out of there***

I often like to pretend my life is one fun Romantic Comedy. But as I get older, I realize it’s closer to an episode of Girls. Or worse yet, I am in a Rom-Com, but I’m not the star. I’m the zany sidekick who’s sole purpose is to create a laugh or two while everyone else is busy drinking wine and falling in love.

I think this story is precisely why I will never give up Carbs.

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No Makeup, wearing a Frownie.

* In case you’re wondering what a cutesie facial expression is, wonder no more! Example – Looks like you’ve got a case of the frownies! It alludes to not only an expression annoying people say to an office (but usually substituting ‘Mondays’ for frownies) and it also refers to a facial expression in a cutesie/diminutive way.

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Are Women Inherently Less Funny Than Men?

I was honestly wondering that the other night, as I was sitting, watching and mostly laughing my way through an evening at the Comedy Store in La Jolla (good call Adam!). I say mostly, because there were two comediennes that night, that unfortunately, were not funny. In fact, they were painfully unfunny. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are some funny ladies out there – Jane Lynch, Amy Poehler, Tina Fey come to mind fairly quickly. But more often then not, when I see something labeled “female comedy” it’s usually ends up being something along the lines of Chelsea Handler’s brand of comedy, which personally, I do not find humorous at all. Ladies – insinuating that you are a lazy, drunken, slut is not funny! It’s not empowering. It’s crude. Am I prude? Maybe. But I don’t care. I’m not advocating that women shut up, put on a dress and slave away in the kitchen all day. I’m just saying – lay off the slut talk. I’m aware that this is a complete double standard, because many of the jokes told by the men were along the same subject line and there I was laughing away hysterically… So there you go: I’m a hypocrite, I think women aren’t funny, and men rule!

Speaking of slaving away in the kitchen all day (segue!) – that is something I have not been doing lately. It’s summer and it’s hot and honestly, a big meal sounds horrible.  But, I am still a snack-monster, so here’s a little something I managed to whip up the other night that involved minimal effort and no heat. It also helped me clear out my refrigerator of some strawberries and a cucumber that were on the brink of being spoiled.

I present to you Strawberry and Cucumber Salsa!

Ingredients*

  • 1 cup strawberries
  • 1/2 cup cucumber
  • 1/4 cup red onion
  • 2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
  • 1 tsp powdered ginger (or 1 tbsp fresh minced ginger)
  • healthy handful of cilantro, chopped (probably about 1/4 cup)
  • black pepper, to taste

Directions

  1. This is ridiculously easy – chop the strawberries, cucumber and red onion into small pieces. Mix all of the ingredients into a bowl, chill for at least 30 minutes in the refrigerator, and serve with tortilla or pita chips.

* As usual, measurements are approximate. Feel free to play around with the proportions/work with what you have.

Anyway, try the salsa – it’s sweet and it pairs perfectly with the saltiness of tortilla chips. Also, definitely check out the Comedy Store. Wednesday and Thursday nights are local nights and there are definitely some genuine laughs to be found.

Bored This Sunday Evening?

Get thee to a Trader Joes and buy these ASAP.

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You’ll thank me later. Promise.

Why So Serious?

This would be where I pretend to relate to Penelope Cruz (more on that in a second) and also brag about my upcoming attendance to a  pre-release showing of the latest Batman movie, The Dark Knight Rises, this week. Yes, I am aware that the “Why so serious?” line is from the Dark Knight. But, as I’ve not yet seen the newest movie, I don’t have any new quotes to pull from, it goes with today’s theme, and it’s my blog and thus, not a place for pointing fingers [back to me]. So yeah, going to see Batman before all the rest of you suckers! Unless you too have tickets to an early showing…in which case, good for you.

Now, on to me and Penny. This Sunday morning, as I was busy lounging and catching up on the past week’s gossip, I came across a story on Ms. Cruz. In the article, they speculate on a possible second pregnancy and then about how she recently shared how motherhood has made her less of a worrier. To quote:

For me, having my son means I worry less. I’ve always loved to worry – ever since I was a little girl people would tell me I  worry too much. But these days I really have to pick my subjects to worry about because there are only so many hours in the day.

[Source: The Sun]

Oh boy. I have a lot of thoughts here. First, I have no experience relating to having children, but I would think that being a mother would make you MORE of a worrier – germs! choking hazards! the wrong preschool! etc… So this is interesting to me. It seems that for her, motherhood has turned her into a zen, Mother Earth incarnate. Interesting. Perhaps there is something to this motherhood notion. I suppose we could also interpret her statement as she’s so busy worrying about germs, choking hazards, and the like that she can’t worry about the old stuff. Which in that case – got it.

True.

[Source]

But mostly, I look at this as a case of ‘Celebrities! They’re just like us!’* I am such a worrier. I worry like it’s no one’s business. I probably spend a few hours every night, usually between the hours of 2 and 5 am, thinking about all of the things that can possibly go wrong in the next day/week/month. It’s a full-time job, really. Luckily, I’ve recently decided to make a career change (metaphorically, of course). I’ve tried yoga, no-caffeine after lunch, deep breathing, and journal writing, and thus far, nothing has succeeded in me chilling-the-F-out. I think some people would refer to me as being a bit high strung. Maybe even a bit of a control freak. Although this is pretty laughable, because my current state could only truly be described as organized chaos. Essentially, I’m a control freak who is also extremely lazy. Perhaps therein lies the problem… and because I am lazy, I think we’ll end this train of thought for now. We’ll just say that I’m taking steps towards the “worry less, be more like Penelope Cruz” approach to life. Or to quote that great philosopher, Bobby McFerrin, I need to “don’t worry, be happy.”

So to recap, I’m going to see Batman this week! And I’m going to be more like Penelope Cruz and chill out (and maybe grow my hair out like her, too).

Anyone got any good stress-relief tips? Besides, wine?

*Believe me, I am all too aware that Celebrities are in no way just like us. Unless of course you consider being regularly chased down the PCH by Paparazzi, being sent free Valentino gowns on the reg, and never having to check the balance on their checking accounts before purchasing a new pair of Ann Taylor work pants, just like us.

Ahoy Hoy!

I’m not sure if any of you ever watched Arrested Development (if you haven’t, you’ve got some homework to do!), but there is an episode where most of the Bluth family is lounging around the living room and causes Michael to ponder if there is a gas leak in the house. I know, I’ve captured the spirit of the show perfectly! But really, that’s what my summer has been like.

Tino or Eeyore?

Ask Tino, he’ll vouch for me.

So there has been a lot of lounging around these parts. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing: 1) we’ve definitely caught up on our beauty sleep, 2) we’ve successfully caught up with Seasons 1 and 2 of Game of Thrones -holy crap is it good! and 3) we’ve spent some quality time on the Kindle understanding why I’m not married yet (hint: I’m not nice!) (Also, please note that the use of ‘we’ can be interpreted as including Tino into the aforementioned activities, or as a reference to the royal ‘we.’ The choice is yours.)

So in the next few days, be on the lookout for some new content. Hopefully it’ll be sharper, more focused, and definitely more akin to my *sparkling* personality.

In the meantime, I hope everyone else is enjoying their summer. Remember, 1) it’s prime Margarita (responsible) drinking season so make sure your lime supply is up to snuff, and 2) salsa counts as a vegetable.