The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Yearly Archives for 2012

A Final Story for 2012

If you could measure and judge a year in glasses of wine consumed, embarrassments and humiliations weathered, inappropriate jokes, impetuous decisions, and ill-advised choices, 2012 would surely be a winner for me (thank god no one’s keeping a tally of those).

But 2012 would also come out on top for me if you measured miles run, ballet and trapeze classes taken, fun and weird activities participated in and probably even friends made.

So let’s just call it a draw and I’ll try to be a better person in 2013. Or maybe not, because what fun is that?

I’m feeling some internal pressure to write something that has some meaning for this last blog post of the year, but who are we kidding? I have nothing meaningful to say. Instead, I’m going to tell you a completely inappropriate story  because who knows, I might turn over a new leaf and be super proper and decent in 2013 and this could be my last chance.  But I’m warning you now if you have any good conscience or appreciation of good taste you’ll just stop reading now.

Last night at a Thai restaurant near our house we’d never been to before-

Jason (after taking a sip of his water the waitress just brought us): Um… this water… (whispering) tastes like semen. 

Me: What? Are you being hyperbolic? Because that  is a really specific and disgusting simile if you just mean it’s gross…

Jason: No, like literally it tastes like semen. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t know for sure, since I’ve never tasted it, but this water tastes like it smells. You know those trees with the really specifically inappropriate smell certain times of year? Eucalyptus, I think? This water tastes like those smell.

Me: For reals? That is disturbing.

Jason: Try it and tell me if you disagree.

Me (taking a tiny sip): Oh my god you are exactly right. That is absolutely what that water tastes like. What the hell. 

Jason: I feel like I should have just waited until you tried it to see if you thought the same thing.

Me: No I totally would have. It’s like really obvious. Oh gross. We could still leave. We haven’t gotten our food yet.

Jason: Nah, she’s bringing me iced tea and you wine. We just won’t drink the water.

Me: If you say so. Mine is coming out of a bottle I can see her pouring from here.


Me: We should review this place on Yelp and warn everyone about the water.

Jason: You have to have like a whole Yelp account to do that.

Me: Can’t you just sign up for one?

Jason: I’m not going to have the very first review I ever make on Yelp to be about how the water at a Thai restaurant tastes like semen. Plus the food was really good. So what am I going to say, ‘Stay away from the spunky water but the Pad Pik King with beef was really good’?

Me: Yes.

Jason: Do not put this on your blog.

Me: How can I not?


And on that note, I bid 2012 adieu.

(Don’t worry, I probably won’t resolve to be less inappropriate.)




Leggings As Pants – According to Tyler

Tyler just moved from Phoenix to Portland, Oregon (because hates 70 degree weather and sunshine for November-January, apparently). He’s been feeling out the whole Pacific NW vibe and has noticed not only do they have enormous bookstores and enjoy putting birds on things, but they also have some interesting fashion trends. For instance, they’re kind of into leggings as pants.

Tyler has very strong feelings about leggings. He especially has very strong feelings about leggings as pants.

Because I’m a fan of both strong feelings, and fashion in general, I invited Tyler over to Real Estate Tangent today to educate the world (and by ‘world’ I mean ‘my 5 readers’) about how and how not to wear leggings in a (potential) series we’re gonna call: Hey, Tyler, what do you think of my outfit?

Elizabeth: So… Hey, Tyler, what do you think of this outfit?

Tyler: I’m not sure if you’re going for the seasonal elf look or the timeless Link from The Legend Of Zelda cosplay thing, but that is for you to decide. The ruffled (what do you even call boots that aren’t all that structured?) boots make me think you have a thing for Peter Pan, but they match well. 

This would be fantastic maternity wear, no doubt. The look on your face in the second pic is a great “you can’t see the baby bulge, right?” type of thing I’d expect any young mother to have. 

The shirt is great, chest up; I can’t get over the bob thing the ‘flowing’ part is doing, though. I’m sure it’s comfy, but why not try something more fitted? 

Unless you ARE pregnant, and if so, congrats! I can’t even tell.

Elizabeth: OK, that’s sort of valid. I think I bought this shirt when I was pregnant and decided it could be a crossover top. Although this is a moderately humiliating exercise since I wore this out in public today. Can we focus on the leggings as pants for a second? Is this an acceptable length top to wear over leggings?

Tyler: Yep. Just have to cover the butt when standing. Not that I don’t appreciate a too-short top with leggings, but it’s weird because then I try to figure out the exact shape of the legging-wearer’s ass, and it creeps me out. Leaving something to the imagination is good, like you did here with your “am I or am I not pregnant again” outfit.

Elizabeth: Ok, so what about this one? Should I wear this to the mall tomorrow?

Tyler: Yes, but only if you spray tan yourself orange and chew gum with your mouth open. Oh, and if you were 17 and about to go on a ski trip. Or if your family needed cash and you decided that a ski-bunny-themed prostitute thing would be a big money maker.

Also required for this outfit to work: one LARGE ring and blue eyeshadow.

Oh, and so help me if I can see your butt eating your panty line if I walk behind you in that outfit. I would straight up YELL that your ass crack was hungry.

Elizabeth: You’re against VPL, noted. I will make careful underwear choices if I’m going to be in your presence from now on.

This next one I’m thinking of wearing to a holiday party. It seems OK when I’ve got my arms below shoulder height, but as you can see, when I go to ‘raise the roof’ things get a little sketchy. Should I keep my elbows to my side all night to keep out of whoreville?

Tyler: Yeah, that’s a pretty whorish outfit. You either have to OWN that or accept that your ass hangs out every time you’re not standing still.

This may be okay with you; my wife can’t find pants that don’t show off the top of her ass crack whenever she sits down, and I think she’s accepted it. Though I probably shouldn’t try to toss stuff in there.

Anyway, whorish, so if that’s what you’re going for…oh, the prostitute joke was based on a news story today: some former Olympian was busted for being an escort in Las Vegas.

I have no idea if I’m using semicolons or colons correctly right now.

Elizabeth: YOU ARE THE WORST ADVICE-GIVER EVER. Also I’m pretty sure you’re drunk. You told me if my butt is covered with my arms down I’m fine. AND IT TOTALLY WAS. I’m still wearing it. This is the last time I take pictures of my butt and post them on the internet for you.*

Now I’m afraid to ask, but what about this one?

Tyler: I admit I’m a bit jealous of this outfit. No way I can pull if off, but it’s obviously a running or gym outfit, and is in no way gratuitous — but on me? No way do I wanna look like a stuffed sausage moose knuckle. 

Now if you were to go shopping in this, but you weren’t sweaty or anything? I’d think “YEAH WE GET IT. YOU’RE GETTING OLDER AND YOU HAVE SELF ESTEEM ISSUES” and I’d feel bad that you felt that way.

Elizabeth: So I shouldn’t wear it to the grocery store after I go running because I didn’t have time to shower and change like I did last week? (Refrain from referring to me as ‘older’ or so help me I’ll fly to Portland just poke you in the eyeball.)

Tyler: You misunderstood. Basically, the worse you look in them, the more authentic they are.

Oh my god.

I’ve gone Portland.

Elizabeth: Oh I GET IT. If I want to wear leggings I just need to stop bathing. I will remember this for when I come to visit you.

Let’s talk about sequined leggings. If the leggings have a layer of sequins over the top, are they appropriate to wear just as pants? Because I kind of think this is working:

Tyler: Yes, let’s talk about this horrible outfit in the picture. The sequins look like holes from here, so what it really seems like you’re wearing is a dress that’s been ripped half off and runs in your very dark stockings while in some sort of struggle. So…rape survivor? Is that a thing?

Elizabeth: I’ve been having some wine, so I’m thinking what you’re really saying is this outfit is super cute. I mean I think it’s super cute and I just invented it, so it must be true. Orange, sequins, flower necklace and flower shoes, what could possibly be wrong about it? I’m pretty sure that’s what Jason said after he was like So that’s one Tyler’s supposed to hate and think you look terrible in, right? and then I said, Haha, that’s funny because I’m totally wearing it tomorrow night.

(See how I just ignored your gross rape joke because it was gross?)

But I guess the point of all of this is, what do you think I should wear with these leggings? Because I really like them but I can never figure out what I should wear on top:

Tyler: Topless, smoking a bong. Maybe a couple of hemp necklaces.

Wait, are those furry creatures on your legs(not a euphemism!)?

Elizabeth: OK, then, I guess it’s time to wrap this up. I think we’ve all learned so much about how not to wear leggings, old maternity shirts, slouchy boots and rapey sequins. Maybe next time we can learn what Tyler thinks we should wear.

*I told Jason about this blog post idea and I think he was only half listening because later when I asked him if I should actually take pictures from the back to send he said, Well are you and Tyler going to do this publicly or are the pictures just for him?  …no, I don’t understand why he thought it would be OK if I was just sending pictures of my outfits to Tyler for his personal use, except that sometimes Jason is like, Babe, you just do what you need to do and let me watch The Cooking Channel, alright?

Mac (2000-2012)

We got her at one of those Petsmart/humane society adoption fairs when I was pregnant with Ben:

I showed Ben this picture and he said I look fat. I told him I was pregnant with him and he said, ‘No, but in your face you look fat.’

She was Jason’s cat and he was such an Apple fanboy even way back then he named her Macintosh. Yes, after his computer.

She had 6 toes on each of her front paws. She sometimes ran outside in the backyard just to eat grass and then would come inside and barf it up on the tile. If we didn’t clean up the puke quick enough we’d find her eating it. She drooled if you petted her long enough. One time she almost scratched Jonas’s eye out, but I’m pretty sure he deserved it. She liked to sleep next to Jason at night.

A couple of weeks ago I caught her sort of sneezing blood droplets and I noticed she had one pupil larger than the other so I took her into the emergency vet. He thought it was just a respiratory infection and put her on antibiotics. She didn’t get better so I took her to our regular vet. He couldn’t find anything either and sent us home with different meds.

Over this last weekend she got worse. More blood, lethargy, trouble breathing. I took her into an internal specialist yesterday still sure there was something they could do. She wasn’t super old. She’d really seemed fine just a few days before.

But it was cancer and there was nothing to be done but sit with her while they administered the meds to put her down. It was maybe the most painful thing I’ve personally witnessed, which I realize means I’ve had a lovely and nearly pain-free life.

I told the kids after I’d picked them all up from school. The vet had sweetly asked about my children and if I’d ever had to do something like this before. She’d warned me from her perspective as a pet-owner and parent, they would all handle it differently. She was so right.

The little boys were fine. I thought Gray, my sensitive, prone to tears 8 year old, would be devastated, but he was OK (Does this mean we’re getting a kitten for Christmas?). Jonas didn’t totally get it (Did she die in real life?). Ben is heartbroken, though. He’s home with me today because he spent most of the night crying and was afraid he’d go to school and cry in front of his friends. I feel like that might be sort of humiliating for a 7th grade boy.

She was a sweet cat, a member of our family for longer than our children and we’ll miss her. But we’re glad we got to have her as long as we did.

I’ll try to be more entertaining in my next post. But just to tide you over, I watch this video and it makes me understand why I am a cat person. I like my animals subversive and strange, just like I like my people:


That’s So Sweet… Kind Of.

Jason (picking up a box on the counter of our bathroom as I sit in the bath): ‘Facial wax strips’? What the hell do you need these for?

Me: First of all, we’ve already had this conversation. You’re getting senile. Secondly, you do not even want to know how much maintenance it takes to be a woman in her mid-30s. It’s tedious and exhausting.

Jason: All that work to keep this fabulousness? (He gestures to himself in a long, sweeping head-to-toe motion.)

Me: Oh I’m fully aware if I went au natural, stopped working out and embraced carbs you’d be out the door in a second.

Jason: Me? No… you’re ridiculous.

Me: You’ve already told me like 5 times you’d leave me if I got fat.

Jason: Stop it, that’s not true. I love you for you. You’re being silly. (From around the corner as he’s leaving the room.) Just don’t do it. 

It’s OK, When You’re Drinking Wine

Tyler, my favorite internet friend who’s made it his hobby to see how far he can push my buttons before I cry (pretty far) suggested I write a post about Things That Are OK To Do Because You’re Drinking Wine. And since I don’t have anything else to get off my chest today, here goes:

1. It’s OK to not capitalize the letter ‘i’ (or anything else) when you’re drinking wine. It takes a certain amount of coordination to press the shift key and another letter at the same time while also holding a wine glass and some of us just aren’t that dextrous.

2. It’s OK to hollow out a marshmallow, stuff four dark chocolate chips in the center, microwave it for 17 seconds and eat it with a spoon, when you’re drinking wine. In fact, it’s advised.

3. It’s OK to tell your son to have his father sign his band instrument practice record because it’s too hard to hold a glass of wine and sign a paper with a pencil on your lap. It’s not even considered lazy, just practical.

4. It’s OK to watch Teen Mom, have The Real Housewives on picture-in-picture at the same time and occasionally yell at the TV, No. She. Didn’t!, when you’re drinking wine. And only when you’re drinking wine.

5. It’s OK to confess things you might normally find embarrassing to the Internet, when you’re drinking wine. It’s actually quite liberating, in fact.

6. It’s OK to get teary about a Kay commercial, until you realize it’s a Kay commercial, when you’re drinking wine. But you’ve got to suck it up once you realize you’re sniffling over a Kay commercial.

7. It’s OK to do sock-footed pirouettes on the kitchen tile floor and tell yourself you’re a fantastic ballerina when you’re drinking wine. Except you should set the wine down during turns and stick to singles and doubles.

8. It’s OK to stalk old friends you haven’t had any contact with in years and send them sappy, borderline creepy messages about how much you miss them and how you should totally get together the next time they’re in town, when you’re drinking wine. But you should probably only do that once per friend. After that it just gets weird, even if you’re drinking wine.

9. It’s OK to put on your cutest PJs and come downstairs and pretend you don’t know you look hot until your husband notices, when you’re drinking wine. But don’t say, This ole thing? because that’s tired and obvious. Instead go with the more believable, I haven’t done any laundry in weeks and this was the only thing that was clean. It’s NOT OK for you husband not to notice, however.

10. It’s also OK to wear pink and chartreuse striped socks, sweat pants, a dance sweatshirt from 11th grade and your glasses and still expect your husband to cuddle you and tell you you’re cute, when you’re drinking wine. And if you’ve had enough wine, it’s OK to explain this duty to your husband, just so he’s clear.

Feel free to leave any other things you’ve found are OK to do when you’ve been drinking wine in the comments. I’m always looking wine-friendly activities.

Ornaments and Holiday Cheer. Ish.

I go to a yearly ornament/cookie exchange with six girlfriends I’ve known since junior high and before. I know, how festive is that of me? It was clearly not my idea. But even my scroogish heart has grown to love this tradition.

This year:

was our seventh year and I had Danielle (she’s in the middle doing jazz hands) for the second time to gift an ornament to. I’m pretty sure I gave her something sucky the first time because let’s face it, if there’s anything I’m super terrible at, it’s sentimentally meaningful knick-knacks.

So this time I was determined to get her something good. Not just good, in fact, PERFECT.

Sadly, Esty and Pinterest were a time-sucking, soul-killing mess of lace and personalized junk that just made me angry about life. Except the zombie snowman. I liked him. And this one and this one. But I didn’t think she’d like those as well as I would have.

One day I was bitching to my mother about how I was never going to find anything good and I was going to be the loser with the suckiest ornament yet again. She suggested I design my own ornament to be made out of stained glass and a picture or a quote or something and she could make it. SO I DID. AND IT WAS AWESOME.

My mom wanted to change the word ‘old’ in the quote to ‘true’ or ‘good’ or something because she was worried ‘old’ would be offensive. I’m offended she thinks we’re old enough for the word ‘old’ to be offensive.

Additionally, when it got to the morning of the exchange, even though I’d picked out the cookies to make and bought all the ingredients, I totally didn’t have any time to make them, so Jason did it for me. This happens every year, but I always pretend to be shocked that I don’t have the time and surprised by his generosity of offering to make them while I run around all day. It’s how we keep our marriage fresh.

No really, I was totally going to make them…

It’s ok, babe, I’m happy to do it.

So basically, I showed up at a cookie/ornament exchange where I didn’t make either the cookies or the ornament, but I totally got credit for both. I’m more of what you might call ‘the idea man’. Is that a job I could get paid for? Can I just go to work every day and give people ideas for good things and have someone else execute it? Because I would be super rad at that.

I guess the point is probably that I’m lucky to have a mother and a husband willing to do shit for me and let me take the credit.

Dear Mom and Jason,

You’re awesome.



Also awesome?

Debbie, for giving me this ornament which is decoupaged in the foil tops from wine bottles. LOVE it!

Look at that, I can be sort of cheery about the holiays. Ish. Don’t tell anyone, it will ruin my reputation.

This Post Just Makes Me Sad For Myself

This morning before Jason left for work he asked me, “What are you going to do today?” I’ve grown to dread this question. Real estate has sort of slowed to a crawl, which is pretty normal for me around this time of year, and I usually don’t fight it because I have so much else to deal with (presents, holiday cards, cookie exchanges, binge drinking and embarrassing my husband at various work holiday engagements). The unfortunate part of not having a ton of work-type activities to complete is then it sort of seems like maybe I should be making progress on the holiday/end of year stuff. Which I’m not.

But that’s not to say I don’t have like a really lot to do. Because I do. This morning already I showered and curled my hair, even though there’s a good chance no one but my children and husband will actually see it today. Then I spent 10 minutes trying to find our cat to give her antibiotics and another 10 minutes trying to roll her into a towel like Facebook suggested I do yesterday to avoid getting scratched while I squirt medicine down her throat. It was totally successful in keeping all of my blood inside my body for the actual administration of the medication, but less so for the time when I was trying to get her into the towel. So I’m not sure that was a win. Then I did some laundry, took Jonas to school, sent a few real estate emails and worked up a set of docs.

That all pretty much took me until 9:30 AM.

Then I tried to brainstorm a blog post for today. That went like this:

Maybe I should write about how I’m thinking about dying my hair. I bet there’s a website I could use to see what it would look like if I did. I’ll take a picture of myself and then I can swap out different colors and show everyone it’s sort of a good idea and I should do it.

OK, now I just need to find a site that will do it. There must be one. Ooo, this one does entire makeovers! I should definitely do one of those…

Well that is not pretty. This is harder than it looks. 

Oh, that’s better! Huh. I sort of look like a man in the ‘before’ picture now compared to this. And I’m already wearing makeup just to get to that. I’m kind of a troll. I should probably order all of the makeup on this website because I obviously need it. Oh wait, I see how this works…

I should do one of what I would look like if this was 1987:

And one for if I was a cast member of The Walking Dead:

Ooo, look! I can put an entire star style on me? DONE. I could probably pull off Taylor Swift, don’t you think?

And I definitely need to do Sarah Jessica Parker, because every girl wants to be a Carrie (even though I’m more of a Samantha/Miranda hybrid):

That was a good use of my time. Oh look, here’s the website I was looking for that shows me what my hair would look like!

Huh, it just sort of turned the whole background the color of my hair. That’s not that helpful. Lame.

And now three hours have passed. So… that’s why my children aren’t getting any Christmas presents this year. You’re welcome. (Also? I’m not linking to the haircolor website because I’m pretty sure when I put in my email address it tried to hack my gmail account. Clearly a productive morning.)

The Secret to Happiness and Brazilian Spiders

I’m working on a new project.

Remember my friend, Kristin*, who makes the movies? Well the movie I was an extra in is all wrapped and edited and lots of other movie term-type things that mean ‘finished’. She’s actually having a screening party for it tomorrow night that I’m attending. I’m probably going to wear sequins. I can’t wait to view it on the medium screen. I’ve already seen it, and my line was magnificent, if I do say so myself (and I have to, because no one else will), but it will be really fun to see it with a group. Plus I’m just really excited for Kristin to have a finished product presented to an audience. That, in itself, is a truly rad thing.

Anyway, now that she’s done with that project, she’s moving on to even bigger and better things. Kristin has decided she’s making two movies next spring and has asked me to collaborate with her on writing one of them.

I know, right? What kind of crazy pills is she taking? I don’t know anything about screenwriting and I say the ‘F’ word a lot. I’ve possibly been described as a ‘loose cannon’. Plus, again the part about not knowing anything about screenwriting.

But I’m no dummy. I didn’t remind Kristin about any of that, because DUDE, she wants me to help her write a screenplay! How cool is that?

It’s really, really cool. For reals. Because let me tell you a little secret about Kristin: She’s one of those amazing people who make fantastic, creative shit happen just because they’re internally compelled to. Yep, one of those special people.

Kristin has a plan. She’s figured out she really loves to make movies, but she needs to sell real estate to eat. So she’s decided she’s going to spend just as much time as she needs to selling real estate to feed her family, and then she’s going to spend the rest of her time and energy making movies. THAT’S THE WHOLE PLAN. Have you ever heard anything more brilliant and simple in your life? I don’t think I have. Do the job you need to survive, and the rest of the time, do something creative and fun and awesome just because it makes you happy. It’s like the secret to life and happiness boiled down right there.

In case you can’t tell, I’m completely inspired by Kristin. And not only because the premise she came up with for the movie we’re writing involves a hitman and the poison of a particular Brazilian spider that leaves its victims in a state of arousal. I mean how fun and weird is she?

I’m thrilled to be working on this crazy new project. I’ve already learned so much about collaboration, writing, filmmaking and especially how to kill people in interesting ways. And we’re only just getting started!

The point of all of this is two-fold:

1. Everyone should be more like Kristin. We should find a passion and all of the hours and minutes and seconds we’re not scrambling to survive, we should be striving to fulfill that passion. Which, sadly, means we should all probably drink less boxed-wine and watch fewer shocking MTV shows about online romances and how one of the people involved is most definitely not who he says he is (and possibly not even a he).

2. The movies Kristin is currently working on will probably need a small budget to get where she wants them to go. Eventually she’s going to solicit funds in something like a Kickstarter or possibly just with a tin cup on the side of the road. When she does that, I’ll be standing by her side shouting, “Give money to artists! Because they’re awesome and the world wouldn’t be worth living in without people who make art!” Or maybe something slightly more concise.

So, you know. Prepare yourself for the shouting.

*Jason says I’m unable to discuss anyone without using ‘my friend’ in front of the person I’m talking about if he doesn’t know them. He even calls a high school buddy of mine ‘My Friend Brody’ because he says I can’t say his name without ‘My friend’. I assert this isn’t true. There are plenty of people I introduce with ‘That bitch’ in front of their names.

Inappropriate Coloring Book Winner!

Drum roll, please… The winner of the coolest coloring book I wasn’t sure who to gift to is:

Jessica Welch!!!

That’s right, Jess, you’re now the proud owner of your very own dirty coloring book. It will arrive in your mailbox next week. I know your husband would like it if you’d share with him but you don’t have to if you don’t want to (it’s an official contest rule).

Jess requested that if she was the winner I add a third nipple to whatever picture I colored for her, but I picked the tamest one I could find because I was too lazy to photoshop censor it today. So just know I added a third nipple in my heart, Jess.

I also bought you a box of crayons and a box of multicultural colored pencils, so you can make sure to get the skin tones culturally accurate.

It’s actually a very racially and socially diverse book. There’s a black chick with an awesome afro and an Asian chick with really huge, clearly fake boobs. There’s also a very pretty girl with armpit hair. I really think this book has a beautiful message. All boobs are good boobs, I’m pretty sure is the point. We don’t judge here in boob coloring book land, is what they’re saying.

I’m no longer sure what I’m talking about or how I got here, but I blame my girl, Tekla, because the multicultural pencils were her idea.

Additionally, coloring is kind of hard and I’m not that good at it. That one I’m going to blame on my left-handedness and being forced, as a child, to work with right-handed crayons. It’s a huge problem.

Congrats, Jess, and thanks to all who weren’t afraid of being thought of as a perv and were willing to participate! Love and happy boobs to you all!

Inappropriate Giveaway

Have you ever had something show up on your doorstep from Amazon, opened it and thought to yourself:

Huh, I actually ordered that? I thought I’d just considered ordering it. I forgot I actually pulled the trigger…

No? That’s never happened to you? Oh totally, me neither. I’ve definitely never ordered anything online and thought:

Dude! This is hilarious! I should totally buy this as a Christmas present for… someone. I’m sure I’ve got someone to give this to because it’s like really weird and funny. I should definitely buy it. That’s it, I’m buying it. 

And then when it showed up at my house I certainly didn’t think:

Ah yes… this is completely hilarious. But… who will I give it to? … Uh, I’m not sure this is actually appropriate for me to give to anyone I currently have a gift-giving relationship with. It would probably be kinda weird for any relatives. I could give it to Jason… but then it’s still in my house… for my children to find. And it’s still not OK to put in his stocking or anything… This may have been a mistake. 

And for sure it wasn’t a coloring book I found off of a blog post of the Coolest Coloring Books for Adults called Color My Boobs:

Because that would be absolutely inappropriate. And I am nothing if not appropriate. Sometimes people walk by on the street, take one look at me and say, “Wow, you’re a super appropriate gal. I’m just getting a completely appropriate vibe from you.” That happens. Swear.

But, you know, if by chance someone did buy a coloring book that doesn’t really work as a gift for anyone she can think of, and she happened to have a blog, that someone might be willing to give the coloring book away to a random commenter on this post. Because you know you kind of want it. I mean, if I had one to give away. You could bring it to your office white elephant exchange and be that person. You know, that inappropriate person. I have no idea what that feels like, but I bet it’s kind of awesome.*

*Fine print: Comment before Friday, November 30th, 8AM. If you’re shy you can just say ‘Me!’. If you’re less shy you can say ‘I like boobs.’ I will use a random number generator to pick a winner. One entry per person. **

**Finer print: I’m not promising I won’t have colored one or more of the pages before I send it to you. In fact, I’m promising I will color one or more of the pages. What you’re actually getting is art. Fine art. With nudes. That makes it fine art. I’ll try to stay within the lines, though. ***

***This is also definitely not one of those situations I’m going to pretend happened because I was shopping online while drinking, instead of stone-cold sober at 2PM on a weekday. I never pretend some of the inappropriate things I do are because I was drunk instead of admitting I just shouldn’t be allowed to interact with the public without a chaperone.