Musings of an Old Broad on her Birthday

As always, I am truly amazed and thankful to have such a blessed life.

That I’ve reached 46 (WHAT THE FUCK??? HOW AM I NOT STILL 22???) and am, for the most part, healthy, and for the full part, happy, is simply incredible and I don’t take a moment of it for granted.

When I think back on my life, where I’ve been, am, and will be, it feels like every single thing has led me to this wonderful place where I smile every day.

It hasn’t been easy over the years. It’s been pretty damn hard a lot of the time. But my 40s have taught me so much about what is truly important in life that I’m forever grateful for every wrinkle, scar and extra pound on my ass because each of them brought me to where I am.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I sound like a fuckin’ Hallmark card…but I’m allowed.  😉 It’s my birthday, dangit (well, this is getting posted a day late, so I have all the extra wisdom that one extra day has brought me).

So, in the tradition of my other birthday posts, I’m going to list things that I’ve learned this year and things for which I’m thankful.

Things I’ve Learned:

  1. Being patient, even when pushed to the brink of homicide, is a gift that should be used often.
  2. Some people just don’t listen and/or have any sense of recall. While it drives me absolutely bonkers when I’ve said something 4600 times and then hear “No, you never mentioned that before,” people are who they are and no amount of trying to make them remember shit will help. So, I’ve learned to just live with it or write stuff down for them so there can be no confusion.
  3. This is not a new piece of learning, but I was sorely tested to keep this in mind over the past year: Some people that you are forced to deal with are just total fuckheads and there’s nothing you can do about it. I got so mad the other week I threw my phone across the room and sat there fuming for 5 minutes while the conversation carried on without me. It was either be off the phone for a few or say things I wouldn’t regret, but would get me in trouble anyway. So, I guess I did learn that a good phone throw can, at least, be temporarily satisfying.
  4. Not listening to the advice of people who dislike you for their own stupid reasons is the very best thing you can do. Like my mom always said, “Consider the source.” If someone’s an asshat or a bitch and they tell you how YOU need to change so that they can be happier, tell them to go eat a bag dicks.
  5. Never, ever, ever, ever, and I do mean NEVER talk politics with anyone you aren’t willing to fight with. It’s so stupid, as everyone is welcome to their opinion, but people go bat shit crazy with politics and it just isn’t worth it (in my book at least). You go on with your bad self if you like to talk politics, but count my ass OUT. 😉
  6. Swimming with otters is the best damn pastime on earth and there is no doubt that one day I need to move further north to a state with green everywhere and bunnies, squirrels and deer roaming freely in my backyard.
  7. There are few better things you can do to create a happy life than be kind to others.
  8. I love my sister more and more every year. She and I may have had a few tiffs over the last 5 decades, but I don’t know what I would do without her.

Things For Which I’m Thankful:

  1. I am so deeply thankful for the way my mom raised me. I know I’m a mouthy broad, but she raised me to be kind, and not judge people, and always think of what someone may be going through and how that might affect them and their actions before responding in any given way to their behavior. She raised me to be polite, but say what I think in a tactful way (most of the time!). She raised me to have deep faith in God, and I’m so happy for that, as it brings me peace every day of my life…every moment.
  2. I’m thankful that I’m still around to write this post. As many of you know, I’ve been dead, like actually dead dead, more than once. And to be here, happy, mostly healthy, and in such a wonderful place in my life, thrills me to my toes.
  3. I’m thankful for the family I was born into and wouldn’t trade them for the world.
  4. I’m thankful for the wonderful friends I’ve made over the years and feel truly blessed that so many of them are still in my life.
  5. I’m thankful that I have a great job where I get to use my brain (sometimes too much!) to help make little kids have a better education. That helps me sleep better at night knowing that I’m giving a little back to a world that has given me so much.
  6. I’m thankful that I have a “If they don’t like me, they can bite me” attitude. 🙂 It took me a lot of years to get there, but there is nothing better than removing that stress from my life. Total bliss.
  7. I’m thankful I had otter paws in my mouth!!!! 🙂
  8. While my hubby has always been the most kind, generous, loving and thoughtful man, over the last year he’s made it even more clear that he really, truly loves me as I am and wants nothing more than for me to be happy. If that doesn’t make a girl thankful every minute of every day, I don’t know what does.
  9. And last but not least (as this list could go on for 300 items, so I’m trying to keep it short), I’m thankful for my new HEDGEHOG!!!! The hubby got this precious little guy for me for my birthday and I’M IN LOVE!!!!!!

(These pics are screenshots from a video, so they are for shit quality-wise, but he’s too cute not to share!)

Hedgehog and Jodi June 5

Hedgehog and Jodi June 5

Hedgehog and Jodi June 5

Isn’t he precious??!!! I’m in love!!

Well, in closing, thanks for putting up with me for another year. You guys rule and I hope that each of you has a life and a birthday that brings you nothing but joy.

Much love!

May My Glorious Agony Be Your Joyful Entertainment! ;)

Alrighty, then.

Here is a tale for those of you who enjoy laughing at my outrageously awkward and/or painful adventures.

Whether it’s me unknowingly showering in and drinking from my mom’s douche bag as a child, or being tortured by sadistic massage therapists or having the buzz muff, Lord knows I’ve given you all much reason to laugh at me. But I’m good with that. 😉

Here’s the latest saga. May you revel in my misery…

rainbowsmiley

 

 

I flew to Boston a couple of weeks ago. Got there just fine. All was good.

Then, I flew home on Monday. Ummmm…let’s just say that the travel home was not quite as enjoyable.

So, I get to the airport and get in line to check in. I go up to the counter and start the process of getting my boarding pass. While the chick is typing away, I get a call on my phone that my flight has been delayed. You’d think the chick at the counter who was checking me in would have mentioned that because the delay was so long that it was going to make me miss my connection in Charlotte.

Since she didn’t think it was important, I brought it up. She said, “Oh, yeah, I didn’t even notice that.” Great. Just great. I asked if she could get me on another flight and she said she could get me on an American flight into Chicago (I was originally booked on American–shittiest airline on Planet Earth), and then from Chicago to Phoenix would be on United.

Works for me, as long as I can get home at some point in the next 12 hours.

Then, she tells me that the flight to Chicago is also delayed but only by 30 minutes, so I should still have about an hour between flights…no big deal. I’m good.

I head off to security, and though I’m wearing scrub pants like nurses wear with no zippers, buttons, or anything other than cotton, I set off some kind of terrorist alert in security. Apparently, whatever I’m smuggling into the Boston Airport is in my girlie parts and needs to be investigated thoroughly.

The TSA chick tells me what she’s going to have to do to me and I was like, “That’s fine. Do what you need to do.” I’m not one to begrudge TSA for keeping us safe.

Alas, I had NO idea that I was about to get a near-gynecological exam in front of EVERY DAMN PERSON IN THE FRIGGIN’ AIRPORT. People literally stood there, dumbfounded, as she pretty much checked me so intimately that she knows how close a shave I have in my nether regions.

'Doctor Smith - At your cervix.'

The other TSA agents, and every person within 50 feet, stood there staring, mouths agape, while she felt me up like a randy teenager in the backseat of my 1973 Buick LeSabre.

When she finally finished getting to 3rd base, and everyone else finished plowing through every item in my suitcase (panties included!), and after I was tested for bomb residue, I walked over to collect my things and look up the number for the Rape Crisis line. Of course, one of the TSA guys (not a bad looking fellow to make matters worse!) was standing there looking at me with a shit-eating grin. I laughed and said that normally I get paid for things like that…especially if there’s an audience.

Gotta keep a good sense of humor, right?? Good grief…

Next time, I’m going through security like Vince:

Tired of being slowed down at airport security, Vince began to travel in only a pair of Speedos.

Then I grab some grub, call my sissy and have a fun chat about my molestation, and then check to see how long of a delay this flight to Chicago really has. Well, what was a 30-minute delay is now closer to 45, which only leaves me, according to the chick who checked me in, about 45 minutes to deplane, find my new gate at Chicago O’Hare (the biggest friggin’ airport in the world), and board. Time’s a ticking…

Finally, I get my ass on the plane, plop down in one square foot of space and then sit. And sit. And sit some more as the plane goes nowhere.  The tarmac becomes our home for another 15 minutes. Now my “making my connection” time is down to 30 minutes and I’m starting to panic a bit. But eh, fuck it. It is what it is and worrying about it isn’t going to make the plane take off any faster.

At last, we are vertical and hit crazy turbulence. So the pilot is going up and down, up and down, trying to find us a pocket of air that wasn’t so rough. But what does that do? Keeps us in the air longer. The clock is now down to 20 minutes between flights, less so unless I’m the very first person off the plane (not gonna happen), and I realize there is no way in Hell I’m going to make my connection. Ugh.

When we finally start our descent the guy I’d been chatting with says that he thinks I actually have a little over an hour. Turns out the chick who checked me in didn’t account for the time zones. Well thank God and pass the gravy! I’m getting home tonight! Woo hoo!

By the time we land and my ass gets off the plane, I have 15 minutes until my connecting flight starts boarding, so I know I’m gonna have to run. Now, I don’t really consider myself a “runner” in real life. Only when a herd of dog-sized spiders are chasing me or they are giving away samples of Ben & Jerry’s. But that night? I was gonna be flying through the terminal, heart attack be damned!

As I get off the plane I ask the flight attendant if she can direct me to the United terminal. She says, “Sure thing! Walk WAAAAAAY down that direction and when you get to the Chili’s, turn right and walk about 4 blocks.” Holy moly! How in the hell am I going to make it? But I was a determined lass and I broke into a dauntless run.

I get all the way there (by now I’m on the edge of death) and see my flight number at the gate, but… it says the plane is going to Vegas, not Phoenix. WTF? So, I go ask the attendant and she looks at me and says, “Oh honey, you’re screwed. Your plane arrived at a gate at one end of terminal 3. Now you’re at the exact opposite and far end of terminal 3 and you need to be at the very opposite and far end of terminal 1. And your plane takes off in 30 minutes, but they close the doors in 20. You are never going to make it.”

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Crazy Sign

Below is a map of Chicago O’hare, in case you’ve not been there. If you need some way to gauge how far of a walk it is from where I was HORRIBLY AND INCORRECTLY directed to and where I actually needed to be, just note that there is an entire hotel and 4 parking lots in the middle of the airport and that’s not even 1/2 of the distance I need to go.

Black dashed lines indicate the WRONG trek that horrible women sent me on.

Red dashed lines indicate the correct location I needed to get to in Superman-turning-the-clock-back-flying speed.

Can we all say it together? Fuckadoodledoo!

But I’m one determined broad. I like my hubby and miss him and WANT TO GET THE HELL HOME!

So, I break into a run. And I mean a run like Satan is chasing me with the TSA lady from earlier and a fiery speculum with my name on it.

I’m sure after about 100 yards that I’m going into cardiac arrest. Then I figure a stroke isn’t far behind.

Please kill me

I look furiously for one of those “beep beep beep” carts that lug people around. I’m willing to give the driver all the cash I have (and possibly some seriously deviant nookie) for a ride to the farthest ends of the earth. Nope. Not a one to be seen because it’s about 10:10pm at this point and they are all happily at home.

I keep running and running and running, then I finally see one. Hallelujah! When I’m about 15 feet from it, and elderly couple get onto it HEADING THE OTHER DIRECTION, of course.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

I keep running. Sweat is pouring off me. I’m beet red in the face, I’m sure. My heart rate is an easy 200 beats per minute and I’m sure that death and a missed flight is my destiny in the next 5 minutes.

I finally get to terminal 1, having no idea that the C gates are at the FAAAAAAR end of terminal 1 after an escalator down, 2 moving walkways (one of which was not working–big shock there), then an escalator up, and then my flight is at almost the very last gate. Of course. So I keep running.

I make it to the gate as they are about to close the door, but I MADE IT YOU FUCKERS! 😉

I get on the plane, now with a splitting headache, heart palpitations and soaking wet. But I’m on a plane and if I stink it up, so be it!

3 and a half hours later, I arrive happily in Phoenix.

But no, this saga is no where near done yet.

The chick next to me in the plane is a very kind and funny flight attendant, lucky for me. So I ask her what terminal we’re landing at. Terminal 2. I’m parked at terminal 4. Of course. So I ask her if she knows how to get to the Sky Train. She groans and says that the Sky Train doesn’t go to terminal 2. I’ll have to hoof it to terminal 3 to catch it. Normally they have little carts that’ll take you there, but since it’s 12:30 at night, there are no carts. Shocking. 😉

So, I go down, get my luggage, dig out my keys and put them in the outer pocket of my travel backpack, snap the pocket shut and start trudging to terminal 3. Oh, and I failed to mention that I was breaking in a new pair of shoes that have a sole so thick and yummy that it’s like walking in soft sand. My calves and thighs were burning so badly that I thought they might spontaneously combust.

I finally get to terminal 3 after a ridiculous amount of cursing and sweating, get on the Sky Train, arrive at terminal 4, walk to the parking garage elevators, go to grab my keys, and the pocket where I put them is unsnapped and the keys are nowhere to be found.

At this point it’s 1:00am. I’ve been up for 21 straight hours, run a marathon, bathed in vat of sweat, died twice and come back to life. And now my keys are missing.

What did I do? Well, I can tell you that I’d lost my sense of humor at this point, so I sat in the floor and cried for 10 minutes. I, and I’m not kidding, can’t recall the last time I cried. It’s got to have been at least a few years. But I just sat there and wept the tears of a child who lost their teddy bear out the car window on a deserted freeway at night. Oh, and I cussed a lot. A LOT.

Finally, I realized that my only options were to retrace my steps or throw myself down a flight of stairs.

So I got up and got moving.

Back through terminal 4.

Back onto the Sky Train, looking in every cabin.

Back through terminal 3.

Back to the hike from terminal 3 to terminal 2 (dragging 40 pounds of suitcase the whole time too!).

Back to baggage claim.

And there my keys were. I must have somehow snagged my backpack’s pocket when I was getting my luggage and they fell out. Thank God they were there.

So then I headed back on the seemingly never-ending trek from terminal 2 to terminal 3.

Got back on the Sky Train to terminal 4.

Got off at terminal 4 and slogged through my puddle of tears on the floor.

Found my car.

Drove my exhausted ass HOME SWEET HOME!

And took out a hit on everyone who’d messed with me that day.

KIDDING! Please don’t send the FBI to my house. It’s kinda messy and I’d be embarrassed. Plus, me no likey prison.

catprison

By the time I got home I was so tired and so strung out that I couldn’t fall asleep and was up ’til 5am, so I had to call in sick to work. So, I guess there was one silver lining! Sometimes a girl needs a day off to get some well-earned sleep!

Lord have mercy…what an adventure!

Good news is, I made it home in one piece. Oh, and I got a 90-minute massage the next day to make my poor aching muscles feel better.

Squirrel massage

BendOver

Airport

May all of YOUR travels be molestation- and stroke-free! 😉

Unless you like being molested.

Then I hope for you lots of grabby-ass hands all over your fine self!

UPDATE! :) How to Smell Like a Stripper, Have Silky Hair, Wash Your Hair Less Often, and Be Happy (All in one post? How is it possible??)

UPDATE!

I am so tickled to share with you a couple of Dodi Ball hair styles. One from my sissy and one from a girlfriend of mine. Don’t they look lovely? 🙂

Becky and Amy with Dodi Ball Hair

_________________________________

Last week I was at the doctor’s, waiting in the lobby and twiddling my thumbs, when this lovely lady approached me and told me that I have gorgeous hair.

After blushing and telling her that she’d made my day, she sat down and asked me what I do to have such shiny, edible-smelling hair. After I told her my process, she told me she was going to go follow my routine to see if she could get her limp, kinda-fried hair to look like a Pantene commercial.

I also shared one of my tricks of the trade, The Dodi Ball, with my sister a few weeks ago, and after she tried it she took a pic of her hair in the morning and sent it to me. She was so excited about how her hair looked…it made a sissy proud!

So, I thought I might share this with you guys too.

Now, I am not saying by ANY stretch of the imagination that my hair is the hair dreams are made of. That lead chick on the TV show Quantico has the PERFECT hair and I would happily kill her for it.

But, I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I can give you that might help. This will be especially helpful for people with hair long enough to put in a ponytail.

WARNING: This is a looooong post. And when you first glance at it you may think, there is NO WAY IN BLOODY HELL I’m doing all of this. But you do most of it anyway–everyone washes their hair, right? And, you only have to do it about once a week. The whole process, including the shower, only takes about 30 minutes and it’s well worth it when you see how healthy your hair can look.

Step 1: Shampoo only your roots.

I used to do hair shows back 100 years ago for Paul Mitchell, Toni & Guy, etc…and while I never appreciated the outrageous cuts and colors I’d leave with, I did learn one valuable thing: QUIT WASHING THE BOTTOM HALF OF YOUR HAIR!!

Here’s why. Cause I told you so. KIDDING!!! 😉 (Had to include some sass!)

Unless you are out rolling around in the mud, chances are the hair below your ears isn’t truly dirty…maybe just a little dusty. When you wash your hair, it strips the natural oils out of it and for people with long hair, you want as much of that oil as you can get in the hair below your ears.

So, when you wash your hair, just wash the hair all around your scalp and when you rinse it the shampoo will run down over the bottom half of your hair and get it as clean as it needs to be. No direct shampoo application to the hair below your ears is necessary.

This is the shampoo I use. It’s a little pricey, but I’m going to tell you later how to mitigate that with sheer laziness! 🙂

HeartLockItShampoo

I also occasionally alternate my shampoos and use these. They are more affordable as long as you buy them in the large (usually quart-sized containers). The eSalon only sells in a 8oz (which is pure suck!).

Shampoo

Step 2: Condition only below the ears

Conditioner is a wonderful and delicious thing and I use it obsessively. But it never needs to go anywhere near your roots. Conditioner will weigh your hair down and make it lay flatter on your head.

Now, if you want flat head, you go on with your bad self. But if you’d like a little volume, no conditioner from the ears up.

And, leave it in your hair for AT LEAST 5 minutes in the shower. I put it on my hair and then wash everything, shave everything and shake my ass while singing “Baby Got Back.” That way I’m multi-tasking in the shower and my hair gets to reap the rewards!

Here’s my conditioner. Again, a little expensive, but laziness will prevail and your wallet won’t feel the hit quite as bad.

LoveConditioner

I also switch up my conditioners occasionally, or put on a 2nd one in the shower if I have the time or inclination. Here are the matching conditioners:

Conditioner

Step 3: Grease it up!

While still in the shower, but after finishing everything else, I use the below oil on my hair. Where do I use it? I hope you said out loud, “Only below my ears!” Mama is proud if you knew the answer!

The reason I use it while still in the shower is that I HATE the feeling of nasty, sticky oil on my hands. Ewwww ick! So, I put in on my hair after I’ve squeezed out all the extra water, then I wash my hands while in the shower. I use 6 pumps of this oil, but I have pretty long hair, so start with less then work your way up if your hair is thin or shorter than mine.

You can also use a quality Moroccan Oil. That stuff can be fabulous.

Oil

Step 4: (Hell yes, there are more steps!) Leave-in conditioner

I’ve used a bunch of leave-in conditioners over the years and my two favorites are:

It's a 10

I put these on after a good towel dry, and then massage them gently (that sounds dirty!) into my hair.

Where do I put this conditioner??? Where oh where you might ask? BELOW MY EARS! 😉

Again, conditioner will weigh down your hair, so you don’t want to put it near your noggin.

When I use the It’s a 10 plus Keratin, I put about 8 sprays on each side of my hair.

When I use the Perfect Ending (which I KNOW they named it that cause it reminds you of a Happy Ending!) I use a glob about the size of a tall dime.

Both of these will help protect your hair and keep it healthier.

Step 5: Just say NO to the greasies!

I have a trick that I use to keep the greasies away: Paul Mitchell Freeze & Shine hairspray.

PaulMitchell

I’ve been using this product for literally over 30 years. It’s the bee’s knees! And it NEVER flakes like a lot of other hairsprays. ‘Cause yeah, that’s what we all want. Hair that is shiny but looks like you have giant lice or heavy dandruff because the stupid hairspray flaked when you brushed your hair the next day.

People should NOT be allowed to sell hairspray if it flakes. I wanna smack ’em! 😉

I spray it all around my roots and a little heavier at my part. I’ll tell you soon why this step is SO important.

Step 6: Go au natural

I try to NEVER dry my hair with a dryer. Why not just put your hair in a frying pan and dry it that way?

Plus, I’m lazy as fuck, so I hate standing there drying it. Boring! If someone else does it for me…well, that’s another story…

Now, is my hair perfect looking when it drys naturally? Heck no. Drying it with a dryer, while brushing it the whole time, smooths the cuticle, so your hair has the APPEARANCE of being healthier. But you are still oven baking it, so if you can avoid the blow dryer, that’s a good thing. Your hair will love you.

Here’s my hair dried naturally. You can see it’s a wee bit bonkers! I was in Vegas, hung over, and I sure as shit was not worried about my hair. 😉

No Blow Dry Hair

Step 7: Don’t go au natural!

I am full of contradictions! 🙂

Since I’ve spared my hair the evils of the blow dryer, now I’m going to put in on a spit and roast it over some flames to get that dang cuticle smoooth.

But, I have a little helper I use to keep my hair from frying while using the dreaded curling or flat iron!

That image is for shit, so here’s the name of it: Ion Heat Protecting Smoothing Spray.

I curl my hair in 6 sections; 3 curls on each side. I spray 2 sprays of this on each section of my hair, then put a quick curl into it. Where do I spray it? Below the ears! 😉

This smooths the cuticle, adds a ridiculous amount of shine and makes me look like I just walked out of a salon.

I use this curling iron:

I like this one for a few reasons:

  1. I’ve dropped it 5,000+ times and it’s never broken.
  2. I’ve had it for 10+ years and it works like it did the day I bought it.
  3. It has a dial on it that lets you pick how hot you want it.

That dial is what can help you smooth your cuticle without setting your hair on fire. Put it down to 20 or so and it’s still hot enough to do what you want, but won’t turn your hair into a crispy critter.

If you want a tight curl, you’ll probably need to have it set closer to its maximum of 30. But if you are just looking to smooth your hair, a lower setting is fine.

Also, I only curl my hair one time between washes. I just do it to smooth the cuticle and once it’s smooth, it’s smooth.

Step 8: The Dodi Ball (I should trademark this shit!)

The Dodi Ball is the best trick of all.

If you want hair that has volume and wave, this is a must.

Plus, if you get hot while you sleep or have hot flashes like my old ass, it’s lovely to have the Dodi Ball in place while you sleep. And if you have long hair, it’ll keep you from getting tangled in it all night.

This is my hair after having the Dodi Ball in all night long:

Jodi and Grant in Washington DC

I, literally, didn’t even brush my hair in the morning.

I took it out of the Dodi Ball and it fell into place like this. HEAVEN because I’ll do just about anything to get 5 more minutes of sleep in the morning. If I can cut “fix fucking hair” out of my agenda, then I’m one happy girl.

So, what is the Dodi Ball and how do you do it?

Before you go to bed, comb your hair with a wide-tooth comb. This is the one I use:

Comb

I bet I don’t touch my hair with a brush but once a week, if that. The wide tooth comb will split your ends less and it’s gentler on your hair than most brushes.

After combing out any tangles, flip over at the waist so that your hair is reaching for the floor.

Wrap your hands around it right up at your head like you are going to put it into a pony tail at the very top of your noggin.

Then twist your hair all the way to the ends. Once you’ve twisted it, keep hold of it and then stand up.

When you look in the mirror, you’ll be holding a length of twisted hair that’s essentially coming out of the crown of your head.

Then keep twisting it and make a bun out of it on top of your hair. Then use a loose scrunchie (how the hell do you spell that??) and wrap the scrunchie around the base of your bun until it stays in place.

The key here is that you don’t want a tight scrunchie because it’ll leave a dent in your hair where the elastic cuts into it. You want a scrunchie that’s tight enough to stay in place, but loose enough to not dent.

I get mine at Walmart, the cheaper the better. I go through every multi-pack of scrunchies they have to find the ones with the loosest elastic and buy those.

If you do get a dent, you can always smooth it with a curling or flat iron, but as my ultimate goal is to wash my hair as infrequently as possible and spend no more than 10 seconds a day on it, I try to avoid the Dodi Ball Hair Dent.

Then, in the morning, take out your Dodi Ball, run your fingers through hair and voila, beautiful, wavy hair that has laid against the grain all night so you will also have way more volume at the root than you would otherwise have.

Throw in a few spritzes of the Paul Mitchell Freeze & Shine and you are ready to go!

Step 9: Quit washing your damn hair so much!

Now, I know this might gross you out, but I only wash my hair every 5 days or so. Sometimes 6. Occasionally 7. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE GAWDS, WOMAN? You are gross!

Nope, not gross. Well, not all the time. I do bathe every day. I just don’t get my hair wet.

Back in the 50s (from what my mom tells me) most women washed their hair once a week. They had those beehive hairdos and used lots of Aqua Net. The didn’t walk around with stinky, dirty heads and neither do I, nor will you.

Unless you have naturally greasy hair that looks like you could fry an egg on it after one day without a shampoo, you really don’t have to wash your hair so much.

Remember how Step 5 was all about the hairspray at your roots? This is why!

I do this while my hair is still wet. Having the hairspray up by your roots will keep the oil monster from invading your hair for a few extra days. Less oil monster, less washing, more time to sleep, eat, git sum nookie, etc…

Step 10: It’s stripper time!

In reality, your hair should be smelling pretty damn good at this point. Plus, Paul Mitchell Freeze & Shine smells like Jolly Rancher watermelon candy, so people will want to eat you as-is.

But if you want to have people following you around in stores and dreaming of your hair, put a spray of this onto your lovely locks.

It’s Pink Sugar Hair Perfume (a lovely companion to the Pink Sugar Perfume I wrote about a few years ago) and it’ll make you want to eat your own hair.

It smells like delicious baked goods and sexy strippers. How can you go wrong?

PinkSugarHairPerfume

 

If you want to get any of this stuff, or any other products, here are a few recommendations to get them on the cheap. You can click on the underlined links to get there fast.

I use this site before I shop online for, quite literally, anything. RetailMeNot. You enter in the name of the store you want to shop at and it’ll give you coupon codes you can use.

Ulta carries some of the products I have listed above. If you go to RetailMeNot, they typically have a coupon for $3.50 off a $10.00 purchase. That’s where I get the Joico and Pureology hair care and the Paul Mitchell hairspray.

If you are planning on trying any of the eSalon products, you can click on this link to get a $10.00 discount. eSalon. (I’m pretty sure the promo still works.) Also, I use their hair dye and it is FABULOUS! 🙂

The comb I get from WalMart, though it’s in-store only. I think I got a 2-pack for $3.00 or something like that. Super cheap and awesome.

The Ion Heat Protecting Smoothing Spray comes solely from Sally Beauty Supply and is around $9.00.

And, last but not least, to have a sultry, stripper-esque scent, you gotta get your mitts on the Pink Sugar Hair Perfume. I’d suggest doing a Google search to find the cheapest price.

Whew! That was a lot of info! 🙂 I hope it helps anyone that has medium or long hair but doesn’t want to spend any time babying it. I know I sure don’t!

If all of this works for you, email me a pic! I’d love to see the results.

Hugs! 🙂

 

 

Ahhhh…the good ol’ days

I got to thinking tonight, after visiting a Facebook page dedicated to the small town I grew up in, about how much fun it was to grow up in the 80s as a teenager.

Yeah, we didn’t have the Internet (eeeee gawds!).

We didn’t have cell phones.

I had to get my lazy ass off the dent in the sofa to change the channel. My tolerance for mis-aligned rabbit ears was quite high. I could watch a show even though its horizontal tuning made the picture flip up every 10 seconds.

I didn’t even have caller ID until I was 22.

My 1973 Buick LeSabre (the boat) had an AM radio that would change stations if I took a sharp turn (doing 85mph!).

That same “boat” saw tons o’ backseat action from my friends (and occasionally me) at parties at the Peach Orchard or on someone’s farm or backyard.

Good music. Great friends. Lots of beer!

Good music. Great friends. Lots of beer!

I hid my smokes and my birth control pills under the seat in my car and blamed them on my friends when my mom found them.

We had tons of parties most weekends since my mom was newly married to my ex-step-father and they’d go out and come home very late with leaves in their hair.

At those parties, everyone would throw their beer cans into the snow in the backyard, only to be discovered by my mom when the snow melted. I lied on the spot SOOOO well about where the beer cans originated that I somehow managed to not only NOT get in trouble, but garner sympathy from her.

At those same parties, we once had someone take the bananas in the fruit basket and half eat them, then stick their gooey remains all over the house to be found by my mom upon coming home. That was harder to explain than the beer cans, but I managed.

The banana sticker collection from all those dang bananas!

The banana sticker collection from all those dang bananas!

After those awesome parties, boys would toss rocks at my sister’s and my bedroom windows to get us to sneak out–we typically did! We just had to wait for either the AC or the heat to kick on as it was so loud you couldn’t hear the suction noise the front door made when it closed.

That's the rock-collecting window, me for prom and my little sis that would warn us when the parents were coming home so we could kick everyone out the back door before they pulled into the driveway. :)

That’s the rock-collecting window, me for prom and my little sis that would warn us when the parents were coming home so we could kick everyone at the party out the back door before the ‘rents pulled into the driveway. 🙂

At one of those sneak outs, I had I guy tell me we could use his dad’s hot tub. When we got to his dad’s apartment he filled the bath tub with hot water and said, “Voila! A hot tub.” No, he got no ass that night. 😉

I remember having a teacher at one of my high schools and the sluttier my friends and I would dress, the more he’d let us skip class and hang out in his office drinking his liquor and smoking stogies.

I remember another teacher who was a total perv, and I had him for 2 classes, so I skipped both of them for an entire year and right before summer break my vice principal called me into his office and asked where I’d gone for those 2 classes all year long. My response was, “Away from that pervert….” Yeah, I didn’t get in a bit of trouble. All was forgiven.

I fondly recall driving by hot guys’ houses and writing in chalk on the road in front of their houses things like “You’re hot.” God, what a doofus.

Once, I went to the Rock-n-Roll Revival (an awesome music show my HS put on) and doodled my love for a certain guy all over the show’s program while leaving comments (most of them flattering) next to all of the cast members’ names, then stupidly dropping it in the floor instead of the trash can so that EVERYFUCKINGONE could read it. I still feel bad about doodling that one girl had duck feet. She was so nice and I didn’t expect for anyone else to lay eyes on it.

That's my smokin' hot sister on the left in the Rock-n-Roll Revival.

That’s my smokin’ hot sister on the left in the Rock-n-Roll Revival.

I loved making mix tapes for boyfriends and misery tapes after the breakup. Kids nowadays have no idea how hard it is to skip through every radio station looking for THE song so you could get it on tape, just to miss the first 5 seconds. That wonderful stress of NEEDING that song but knowing the challenge you faced actually finding it for your tape.

I remember putting bologna slices all over a dickbag’s car because, well, he was a dickbag. Boy was he pissed (that was as bitchy as I ever got, and I know it wasn’t really nice). But seriously, he was such a dick, he had it comin’.

I recall when one of my best friends kicked the glass panel in the exit door by the Ertzman Theater and put her foot through it. Yep, their was blood.

I used to get such a thrill out of running away from Jack the Hall Monitor at my first high school and buying Ruby the Hall Monitor at my second HS some McDonalds so that she’d let me skip and not bust me.

I thoroughly enjoyed wearing bra tops and miniskirts with 4-inch heels to school ’cause, yeah, that’s appropriate.

I was terrified when a different vice principal at my second HS came and dragged me out of my 12th grade English class to “explain” the state of my locker to him. It was OUR locker, not my locker. But luckily for my locker-mates, they all just happened to not be in school that day, so I had to scrub the fucking thing clean with Ajax while wearing those 4-inch heels. Oh, and yes, I was MORTIFIED by the nasty shit written in that locker when the VP was standing next to me. We had drawn perversion all over it. It was awesome!

Try and read all that naughty stuff! Good grief!

Try and read all that naughty stuff! Good grief!

I longingly remember making out with sexy boys and not letting them get to 2nd base because I liked being a good girl (sometimes, not ALL the time!).

Faces have been blurred to protect the innocent! 😉

I loved going to OC (the beach at Ocean City) and not going to sleep until the sun came up and praying no one would smell the pot under the door of the hotel. I never had a desire to go to jail.

Yeah, that smoke is not from cigs. ;)

Yeah, that smoke is not from cigs. 😉

Walking a mile in deep snow to get to the High’s for an ice cream cone was awesome and well worth it.

The High's was on the right, just as you entered the shopping center. It was awesome.

The High’s was on the right, just as you entered the shopping center. It was amazing.

I’d make visits to the Sandy Spring Bank, all dolled up and smelling pretty, to go flirt with an old flame.

Sandy Spring Bank

And I’d eat at “The Deli” with my mom all the time. They had the best grilled provolone on Rye with tomato sandwiches and veggie soup I’ve ever had!

My mommy in front of The Deli. Yum!

My mommy in front of The Deli. Yum!

All of these things I loved so very much and I miss my hometown all the time.

To all of you who grew up around the same era as me, I hope you had as much fun as I did.

And much love to all of the wicked, naughty friends I had that contributed to my debauchery! I know I corrupted a few of you back, and damn was it fun! XOXOXOXO

When the Sex goes Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehen, Arrivederci, Buh Bye

Recently, I was very honored to contribute to an article on Prevention.com.

The article, by Meghan Rabbitt, turned out great and really provided some good advice for couples who aren’t enjoying too much nookie in their relationship.

While I really enjoyed how she pieced together thoughts from other “sexperts” and myself, I also wanted everyone to read the full breadth of what I sent over to her as sometimes it can help to hear a single voice too.

She had asked me to answer 4 questions and here they are, along with my answers. I hope it can help some couples out there who are struggling with a relationship that doesn’t include much sex.

  1. Why does stressing about infrequent sex make sex worse?

Hopefully, sex for you is a joyful, stress-relieving romp with your significant other. But if it’s not and sex has become infrequent, it’s natural to start stressing about it. One of the big downfalls to that particular type of stress is that you’ll likely start to connect negative feelings to sex, which can create deep resentment towards your mate.

When sex becomes a scarcity and is no longer that wonderful, intimate release with your loved one, it can turn your thoughts to, “Why don’t we ever have sex? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with him? Is this how the rest of my life is going to be? Is he having an affair? Does he not find me attractive anymore?” The list goes on and on. This type of mindset can breed hurt feelings, insecurity, a lack of trust, and an overall negative attitude towards the relationship as a whole. That negativity can easily spread into all aspects of your life if you aren’t careful.

Beyond all of the self-doubt and resentment that a floundering sex life can cause, it can also set up great expectations for when it does come time for sexual intimacy. It can be easy to think, “Well, when we do have sex it damn well better be amazing! After all, it feels like it’s been forever since we last made love, so why shouldn’t all that built-up desire and pent-up need make the sex just that much hotter?” Then, when the sex is similar to what it’s always or recently been, you find yourself let down and deflated, rather than thrilled and excited about the next time.

The constant hope that you’ll have sex…the letdown if it doesn’t happen…and the disappointment when it does if it isn’t particularly great, can put you on a rollercoaster of emotions regarding sex and your partner that seem to always leave you wanting more.

It’s hard on any relationship, no matter how strong, when those up and down emotions become pervasive. The more you stress about it, the deeper the anxiety and feelings of rejection can go. And typically those emotions lead to even less sex, so you’re existing in a self-perpetuating situation that it can be hard to find your way out of.

So, when you find yourself stressing about how much or little sex you are having, take some time to evaluate what might be causing the situation and then try and figure out some strategies for change. It never helps to point a finger of blame at anyone, and the Blame Game only causes further stress and embarrassment. Broach the conversation lovingly and if you just can’t find a way to talk about it, for whatever reason, then step up your game the next time you and your partner make love and see if that new special technique you bring to the bedroom does anything to reawaken the sexy passion you once shared.

  1. What are the downsides/detriments to talking yourself into having sex — even if you’re not in the mood?

This is a topic over which there is much debate. There are experts out there who will tell you to talk yourself into sex, even if you aren’t in the mood, because once you’re in the thick of it you’ll start to enjoy it. They reinforce that the act of having sex makes you feel sexier and will eventually lead to having more sex on a regular basis.

The flip side of that is that sex is hopefully some combination of a loving, wild, delicious, lusty, bonding, and exciting way of connecting with your mate. If you go into sex half-hearted, will the passion be there? Will your partner feel your apathy?

Having sex when one isn’t in the mood can feel at worst like a violation and at best like you’d rather be getting a root canal. Creating a sexual environment in which those are the emotions that you tie to sex isn’t healthy in either the short or long term.  When your feelings about sex are negative, your response to even the thought of it can become Pavlovian in nature, almost visceral. When that happens your desire can lessen even more, thereby exacerbating an already tough situation.

Sex should be the culmination of love, lust, need, want, desire and a whole host of other emotions. Not a Well, if I have to I guess I can endure it type of activity. Make love when it feels right to both of you for that is when you and your partner will achieve the closeness and satisfaction that comes with a healthy sexual relationship.

  1. Why is frequency not as important as intimacy?

It’s the old argument over quantity vs. quality. Is it better to devour a really good pizza once a week or eat some frozen cardboard pizza 3 times a week? I’d well imagine people could easily argue both sides. But here is why I’d vote for intimacy over frequency any time.

Think back to your most amazing sexual experience. Was it crazy and exhilarating? Was it loving and tender? Was it some yummy combination of both? I bet when you think back on it you can remember every tantalizing touch. Or maybe you only remember the overall feeling of “Wow. That was incredible. I need to sleep for a week to recuperate.” Either way, it left a delightful positive imprint in your brain about just how good sex can be.

Now, think back on the most boring sex you’ve ever had. How did it leave you feeling? I often joke with people that if the sex is not worth the cleanup, then I’m not doing it. Boring sex can be dreadful because it strips you of all the tingles and passion that we equate with good sex. It turns sex into a chore rather than feeling like you are tripping the light fantastic. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to think of sex in the same way I think of cleaning my kitchen.

So, if someone put the question to me: Would you rather have amazing sex once a week or ho-hum sex 3 times a week? I think the answer would pop out of my mouth lightning quick: Amazing sex!

It’s important to remember, especially in a long-term relationship, that your mate having sex with you more often doesn’t mean they love you more. And having sex with you less frequently doesn’t mean they love you less. It’s never that cut and dry. What you can do to show how deeply you love one another, when the sex isn’t particularly frequent, is taking the time to lavish each other with unbridled passion when you do have sex. Ensuring that both of you are happy, satisfied and feel wanted can help nurture a continued sense of closeness even when you are outside of the bedroom.

One of the most enduring results of good sex is the intimacy it breeds between lovers. Intimacy stretches itself into all aspects of life. It helps us feel loved, cherished, adored, understood, and safe. Those feelings create an overall sense of happiness and security that foster an environment where everyone knows they are valued, loved and respected.

  1. How can long-term couples invigorate their sex life, without the stress/pressure to have sex often?

I’m going to tow the company line here and suggest great communication. I know it sounds trite, but over time it’s easy to forget what your partner really likes in bed (or on the kitchen counter) and simply asking can remind us of the fun sexual things we did long ago.

It’s easy for sex to become rote. He kisses this. I rub that. I get into this position. Bang, we’re done. No one wants a script for sex that’s the same over and over.

If you want to liven up your sex life, try and remember the sex you had during the first year you were together.

  • Were there certain places you liked to have sex?
  • Were there positions you favored that you don’t do anymore?
  • Are there erogenous zones that either of you haven’t paid attention to in a while?

To start rebuilding your sex life without doing anything drastic, you can go back to what you liked to do when the relationship first began—that can go a long way to rekindling the spark. It’s amazing how just feeling wanted by your partner can liven up your sex life.

You can also try something new. I’m not suggesting that everyone goes out and buys a blindfold and handcuffs, but just easing into something you haven’t done before can be titillating and kick your sex life back into high gear.

For example:

  • Have you tried roll playing? If you haven’t done that before, start slow and warm into it.
  • What about lingerie or sexy costumes?
  • How about talking dirty?
  • Are their certain scents that get you revved up?
  • Do you romance each other outside of the bedroom to get revved up for fun in the bedroom?
  • What about a quickie in the bathroom or the back seat of your car?

Sometimes trying something new, even if you just barely dip your toe in the pool, can invigorate a sex life that’s seen better days. The thrill and excitement that comes along with new experiences can make us relive the butterflies in our tummies that we had when we first started out on our sexual journeys.

Ultimately, while having a satisfying sex life is important, it’s achieving a balance in a relationship that everyone can live with that’ll help you endure in the long run. For some people, sex just isn’t that important. For others it’s the be-all-end-all of life. Finding a way to communicate and compromise so that both parties feel loved, desired and safe is the real path to enjoying a lifelong adventure with the one you love.

Author Jodi Ambrose

jodiambrose.com | jodiambroseblog.com | @jodiambrose

Okay, so all that above writing was me trying to sound like an adult (and trying not to cuss or be overly sarcastic!), but the short and sweet reality of it is: Sometimes couples stop having sex. It just happens. It may totally suck, but it happens nonetheless. Whether there’s an inciting incident that somehow kills the spark, or it’s the kids, the job, being tired all the time, feeling like roommates, sexual laziness, someone’s porn habit, whatever it is, sometimes the sex just falls away.

Believe it or not, one of the things I get asked about most often is what to do when the sex stops. Or why do I think the sex has stopped. And it comes from just as many women as it does men. This is not nearly as gender-specific of a problem as you might assume. It’s not just the ladies saying no–it’s a good chunk of men too. I had one male friend ask me how I can help him get interested in sex even half as much as he’s interested in football. He is not unique in asking that question.

I think there are a million reasons why the sex can peter out to nearly nothing–but the real questions for your future are:

  1. Is it something you can live with?
  2. Is the relationship fulfilling in every other way (or most other ways)?
  3. Do you love and adore your partner to the point where sex being a rarity is tolerable because everything else is going so well?

If you are in this type of a relationship, know you are not alone. I can’t begin to tell you how many couples are in an almost-sexless relationship. It happens WAY more than you would think. But it’s typically something no one really talks about, even with their friends, because admitting you never get laid can be embarrassing and no one wants someone else looking at them like: “What’s wrong with you? Do you suck in bed? Are you that undesirable?” When the reality is that it’s probably (mostly) none of that.

I’ve also heard from men and women that they’ve already tried everything they can think of to re-kindle the spark. Boudoir photos shoots, lingerie, stepping up the foreplay, more romance, sensual massage, talking dirty, being the best lover they can possibly be, being spontaneous, buying toys, role-playing, losing weight, gaining weight, wearing make-up more often, dressing nicer, being nicer…you name it. And sometimes none of that works. No matter what you do, the sex still just limps along like it has a broken leg. And arm. And back. And neck. And dick. And muff.

It can be so incredibly frustrating and it can be easy to translate a lack of sex to rejection as a whole. And no one likes to be or feel rejected. It hits home down deep where all the worst of our emotions lurk and eat away at our happiness.

Alas, sometimes, sex just falls by the wayside. So, it’s up to you to either find a way to fix it (with some of my awesome suggestions above!) 😉 or find a way to live with it, or get out of the relationship. Walking around miserable all the time because you never get laid will only lead to resentment and pain that worsens over time. So your options are to fix it, forget it, or leave it. But you can’t mope about it forever. It will ruin all of your joy.

Of course, my hope for everyone is that they get the best damn nookie of their life as often as they want it. Three Cheers for Awesome Bang-Bang-Time! 🙂 🙂 🙂 But if that’s not you, know that you aren’t alone and that less sex is not a direct correlation to less love. Sex is just one way of showing love. If you can’t do it that way, make sure to show it in every other way you can.

XOXOXOXO