Bessssssssssssssst Day of My Life!!!! :) Seriously. Best. Day. Ever.

Next to marrying my hottie pie hubby, this was, and I mean it, the best day of my life.

This is just a precursor to a future, more detailed post, but I just had to share my ridiculously happy adventure!

Can I pet your face, mama?

Now, just so you know, the lovely people who run this amazing Otter Heaven don’t let the otters stick their paws in your mouth. This one just snuck her little paw onto my lip and I wasn’t about to complain. Having an otter on my mug is pretty much my biggest dream come true! But the wonderful otter parents always made sure both me and my sweet little otter buddies were safe and happy. I’d say they succeeded beautifully!

Kissy kiss kiss kiss!

Kissy kiss kiss kiss!

"...sunshine, on my otter, makes me happy..." (to the tune of Sunshine on my Shoulders) :)

“…sunshine, on my otter, makes me happy…” (to the tune of Sunshine on my Shoulders) 🙂

Me, deliriously happy, staring at otters as they stalked their prey (me!).

Me, deliriously happy, staring at otters as they stalked their prey (me!).

 

Help! I'm getting otter mugged! (I'm in HEAVEN!!)

Help! I’m getting otter mugged! (I’m in HEAVEN!!) And yes, there is an otter head in my cleavage. Stinker!

In all my life I never dreamed that I would be this blessed.

I’ve always joked that when I die, and hopefully go to Heaven, that God will let me frolic around with a bunch of non-pooping otters. Yes. I’m not even kidding. That’s my idea of Heaven.

And that dream came true and I didn’t even have to die. Yay!

JODI LOVES OTTERS!!!!!!

 

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!

You are my sunshine…my only sunshine…

You guys know that in addition to being a foul-mouthed trollop, I’m also a squishy little cuddle bun bun with my hubby.

We text each other a few times during the day just to say, “I love you, Stinker!” Or, “How’s my little Muffininator’s day going?”

He’ll send me imgur images of frolicking otters or baby squirrels. Yep, I’m a total sap! Alas, that is not news to any of you. 🙂

So, today I thought I’d liven up an I Love You text to the man with this cute little gif:

iloveyoubun

The hubby just loved it!

So, I thought I’d share with you a bunch of gifs I pilfered from Google Images so that you can nab them and text or email them to your honey bunny (or mom, sister, brother, dog, kid, cat, hamster…whoever has an Internet connection).

For Windows users, you should be able to right click on them, select Save Image As, then save them to your local drive for future uploading into a text message or email.

For Mac users, I guess you just think to yourself, “Mac, upload this image and send to wifey,” and it’ll read your mind and do it all for you. If that, for some odd reason, doesn’t work, maybe click and hold???? It’s been so long since I worked on a Mac that I’ve forgotten anything I ever knew about them. I’m a slave to Bill Gates apparently. NOOOOO!!!! 😉

Here ya go! Cuteness galore…

DancingILoveYou DoggyLove FancyILoveYou HappyFaceILoveYou ILoveYouBlinkyHeart IMissYou KittyLove LoveForever MousyLove ScoobyLove SparkleLove TeddyHeartsLoveYou TeddyLove YouAre

And lastly, for those of you who kind of love/hate your mate, here’s a super creepy one that both shouts love and is the precursor to nightmares:

CreepyClownLove

Now go send some love to your honey!

Or don’t.

You can always instead send them dancing poop to say hi. 😉

PoopDance

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! 🙂

 

 

The Illicit, Illegal and Immoral Adventures of Tick Teddy

Well, you guys know that our little Tick Teddy likes to go on wild adventures.

He’s been all over the country and up into Canada, leaving a trail of dead hookers in his wake.

There’s no confining him. No stopping him. He just won’t abide!

This week, Tick Teddy is on Hollywood Boulevard.

He’s laying waste to everything in his path and I will show you the evidence that can certainly (hopefully) be used against him in a court of law.

Tick’s Seemingly Innocent Start

“Hi mama. Daddy left me here while he’s off banging bar slut wannabes. There’s nothing for me to play with. I’m bored mama.”

Tick Bored Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Finds a Friend

“Look who I found, mama! I gots me a Tyrannical Rex to play with. I hope he doesn’t pull me down into a life ‘a crime. I’ma gonna use him to help me see over all the tall people heads. Not to rob banks. No sirreee bob. I promise.”

Tick With T-rex Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick and Daddy Share a Star

“Told you I was gonna be good. Me ‘n Daddy have our own star on the Walk o’ Shame…oh, I means Walk of Fame.”

Tick with Grant Star Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Has a Bad Dream

“Hey mama, I gots you a new boyfriend! He tells me he’s the man that dreams are made of. I’m not sure I believe him mama. Mama???”

Tick with Freddy Kruger Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Finds a Solution

“Whew! No bad dreams for the Tick, mama. I gots me a hundrit percent solution to what ails me.”

Tick with Bongs Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Finds His Father

“Mama, I thought you said Daddy was my Daddy? Then why is this asshat telling me that HE’S my father? What’s goin’ on, mama?”

Tick with Darth Vader Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Breaks the Law

“Look, mama, I had to escape my new Daddy. He touched me in bad places. So, yeah, I’ma gonna turn right on red. I gots ta get outta here and fast!”

Tick Turning Right on Red Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Gets a Close Encounter of the Boobage Kind

“It sure is warm in here mama. Tick likey.”

Tick with Marilyn Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Savors the Spoils

“Now mama, don’t get upset. It’s alcohol-free beer. I ain’t shining you on. You knows I’m a good Tick and would never do anything bad or that would get me in trouble.”

Tick With Beer Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Goes to the Pokey

“Well, mama, it had to happen sumtime. I’m just glad you aren’t around to see it first hand. They’s throwing me in the hootscow. I’ma dun for. Say bye to the other teddies for me. I see the way that ho’se is eyeballin’ me. This ain’t gonna go down easy…”

Tick with Cop Hollywood March 2016

 

Fare thee well, little buddy. Mommy and Daddy will always love you…

PS: Big props to the hubby, who, while out of town and knowing that I miss him terribly, takes Tick on his adventures and sends me these pictures to make me smile. I am truly the most blessed girl on earth. I love you, baby! 🙂