Wish you were here, havin' one of these too.

Just to rub a little salt in the wound, or should I say on the rim of our margarita glasses... I sense you might be angry?!? Come on now, no hard feelings. If you take it all back we will bring you back a pack of, "Chiclets," and some of those friendship bracelets those bambinos make. Gotta go, time to flip-we wouldn't want to tan unevenly.

Wish you were havin' one of these.

Incase you forgot. MOM and I are laying on the beach, sipping an icy cold cerveza since we won't drink the water... Lord knows we don't want to spend the next tree days in the banyo with the trots. We still wish you were here, BUT since your not... We'll be sure to have another round JUST for you.

PS Don't forget your mittens, I wouldn't want you to frostbite your cute little fingers.

Wish you were here.

Hate me, hate me, hate me. MOM and I are just chillin' (or warmin' I should say) in Mexico. Yup, I packed my spf 70 sunscreen and I am acting as an imposter with my spray tan. I'm sure we will have lots to report when we jet set back to the Midwest. Until then... wish you were here.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, sure hope your sh!tter isn't full... a good plumber or Roto Rooter is hard to come by on Christmas morn. Just like my holiday card said, "I hope Santa brought you all the things you don't deserve." I mean come on, he knows about all those shenanigans you pulled in 08. Whatever, enjoy the day with your family and friends.

"Roll," out Christmas Eve

Happy Christmas Eve all you Santa wishin/hopin/wonderin bloggers! Ya know it just wouldn't be the hip-happy holidays without some calorie laden cinnamon rolls. Alas, a new tradition has been born. Hank's mom and I are all about spreading the cheer. This year we created homemade, from scratch, whatever that means, cinn-a-li-cious, maple frosted rolls to dole out to our respective neighbors. We gave em to the cute couple next door who bonfires with us, the three neighbors with snow blowers, the one with season tickets to the Wild and the ones whom we backed right into their car. fa la la la, la la la, la la lahhhh! "Wook-it," us, as Hank would say, with our Leave It To Beaver (our husband's wish) aprons on. Ain't we the sweetest little suburban wives you ever laid eyes upon?!? I have a feeling some of the neighbs have no idea that A. We know you see us waving, wave back ya loser. B. We know which one of you called the cops. C. We are the best damn thing that happened to these hoods. And D. These rolls are a labor of L.O.V.E. Here's how it unfolds, or should I say un-rolls... We have to start by taking a Friday off (we deserve it). We then scald this mixture of oil, flour and sugar. Wait 45 minutes and DRINK WINE. Add yeast to the now cooled mixture and a boat load of flour. Wait an hour or so and DRINK WINE. Add a titch of this and a titch of that (while making dinner reservations)and roll out the hand crafted dough. No one likes a dry roller, so avoid getting parched by DRINKING WINE. Spread enough butter to cause insta bum cellulite and sprinkle (more like pour) on the cinnamon and sugar. Roll em up, slice em up, bake em up and frost em up while acting like you still care after DRINKING TWO BOTTLES OF WINE. Wrap em up all cute and deliver your tin of peace, love and holiday bloat to all those not high enough on the list to get a real present. Merry, Merry! See you Christmas morning!

One year ago...

... I had the worst Christmas to date. It was December 23rd (dah, one year ago) and I was at the gym, grabbing one last pre-holiday workout, (like it really mattered) before I began all the cooking/cleaning for the 16 people I was hosting for Christmas Eve. It was snowing, the roads were slightly greasy, and as far as I knew that would be the biggest challenge of my day. I speed dial my cute hubby to check on the status of his end of the bargain (getting Miss Kato her daily dose of exercise). "We had an accident, but don't panic, it's all gonna be fine." It must have been pure hell to have to say those words, and besides he knows I'm the panic-er... one of us has to be. "Kato got a little slice, and we are at the emergency room. They are checking her out now." I smell his lie like his farts in the car. I 34b-line myself right to the best veterinary emergency room in the West metro (Eden Prairie-bless those folks) to meet them. He DID lie. It's not just a, "slice," she has been impaled by a unseen steel fence post sticking out of the snowy turf at a 42 degree angle. Forty-two must have been our unlucky number as this was the number of stitches it took to mend her torn hide. Gulp. I know. It makes the 8 stitches I had on my bum sound like a day at the park. Eight hours later the Doc surfaces and tells us she has completed the difficult task of putting Miss Kato back together again. We had already cancelled the holiday festivities and left 16 others without Christmas Eve plans too. I can't even write about taking care of her that night. It makes my tummy turn and flop. It must be what MOM's feel when they are taking care of a very ill child, who can not communicate or understand where this pain is coming from. They all broke it to me lightly. If Dr. Silverstein had told me right away it was about the worst he had seen, I would have lost it. If I had known it would be 2 weeks of sleeping on the air mattress in the living room, and another 4 with my hand tucked under her chest (in case she tried to move or lick) I would have lost it completely. Completely as opposed to being about 10 seconds away from loosing it everytime I saw gunk coming out of the drainage tube she had in her tummy. It was about as blue as I have ever been. So, anywho to make an already long story short... Now, I scratch her chocolate brown head, tickle her salt and pepper chin and trace my finger along the long and jagged scar and hope she doesn't remember one year ago. Then, I dream about the Louis Vuitton handbag I could have had instead of paying those vet bills. Ahhhhh, what the hell, she is totally worth it.

Tomorrow, a much more cheery post. You needed a little break from all this holiday cheer didn't ya? Anyway blue skies (and yummy rolls) tomorrow. Scouts honor.

Eau du BK

I'm so gonna puke. Have you heard about what shenanigan (or dare I say Whopper) Burger King is trying to pull off? Fire Meets Desire, "Behold the scent of seduction with a hint of flame broiled meat?!?" I am seriously going to barf. For a limited time only (thank God) BK is selling, "Flame," it's own personal fragrance. If you are completely recession proof and have nothing better to spend $3.99 on then we should have a chat. If you are in need of an extreme white elephant gift OR if you are looking for that special-something-kind-of-gift for someone you really despise, proceed to BK, this is the answer. So it's the week before the holiday, you need a good chuckle 'round the office... Follow the link above to the, "Fire Meets Desire," site for some relatively funny footage. I swear, if you bring it anywhere near me, you'll see my gag reflex in full action. Go on check it out. Don't be the, "one," who doesn't get the Saturday Night Live skits that are sure to follow.

R.E.M.

I'm a loud talker. I know it. I talk loud on the phone, I talk loud in person and when I am paired with another loud (and fast) talker I can really get the decibels crankin. I'm sure this paired with my preferred method of filing (piles. piles on my desk, piles on the floor, piles.) does not make me candidate for the, "Cubicle Mate of the Year Award." But come on now, this is a whole nother deal... Now I chill at my, "home office," in the lower level of my little shanty. You remember my associate, don't you? She doesn't talk much, and if she starts take me to the closest padded room, but she snores. And dreams. And kicks and flails. And makes weird slobbery, lip smacking noises while she naps... all day long. How's a girl supposed to get anything done when you have this kinda ruckus going on? And yes, she's on the furniture and so is all her pesky little brown hairs. It's a different topic for a different day. So anyway this goes on for 4, 5, 6 hours sometimes (broken apart by potty/treat breaks) and wouldn't ya know it? I try and get a video and this is all she gives me... Riveting, I know.

Who you callin' a (pit) bully?

Dogs are dogs, are dogs, ya know? I mean sure, some breeds are predisposed to being loud mouths like the Beagle. I'm not sayin', just sayin' some are more likely to bolt like the Greyhound. Sure, sure some are perhaps predisposed to be a bit more high strung like the Weimaraner or more chill like the Newfoundland. But the idea that one breed is mean to the milk-bone??? I don't buy it. I mean take my pals Moses and Menina. These two knuckleheads think, well actually they are, lap dogs. Menina is so sweet, she'll lick your ears so clean, she'll make a Q-tip nervous. Moses will do the, "Labrador-lean," right up against you, so you can't resist giving his muscl-y body a rub down. All in all these two turkeys are sweeter than some Bichon Frises I know. I think it's all about how they are A. Loved by their K-9 mamas. B. Loved by their breeder. And C. Loved by their owners (homosapien mamas and papas). So when peeps say a particular breed should be, "banned," it really stikes a nerve with me. Yes, it is true... The Staffordshire Bull Terrier, otherwise known as the pitbull, was originally bred in the 1800's for dog fighting and ratting. But, according to my Encyclopedia of Dogs, by Dr, Bruce Fogle, "The modern Staffordshire Bull Terrier is brave, intelligent, and tenacious. It is affectionate with people, trustworthy, and stable." Now tell me how many co-workers you have that are brave, intelligent, trustworthy and stable? Exactly. I rest my case...

PS Ames-thank you so much for having us over AND for THE BEST homemade pizza I have ever had!

Fashion Friday: So bad it's good.

Happy Fashion Friday you-holiday-jingle-bellers-you! Today, a few words about the best/worst holiday outfit evah: the ornamental sweater. It's all about embellishments. Buttons, fringe, sequins and bells, oh my! A personal fav is this frosty (shown left) who is apparently playing a little peek-a-boo from inside this cardigan. Cute and sassy all rolled into one... just like me?!? Be sure to match this little number with your holiday dickie and a pair of ornament dangle earrings. Now, even tastier is the ever popular circa 1984 sweater vest. Goes perfectly with a holiday turtle neck and a pair of Uncle Eddie polyester trousers. If you've held onto one of these festive classics since the 80's, congratulations you are officially a bonafied pack rat. If you yearn for the sweater of decades gone by, don't fret. Stop by the nearest Ragstock for a plethora, "piled out," options or swing by the local Goodwill for a look-see at what folks have finally decided to part with. Just don't miss your opportunity to sport this classic at the office party, block party or local-yocal-towney bar. It's sure to be a hit.

Go Elf Yourself!

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Halls: decked.

I'm soooo on it this year. I drug the prelite 9' tree outta storage, plugged her in and covered every square inch of it with bling. The stockings are hung from the chimney with care and 70% of my shopping is DONE, wrapped and stuffed under the fake fir branches. My holiday photo has been taken, cards are addressed, stamped and in the mailbox with the flag up. My card stand (which is actually a retro bar-chip-rack-holder-thing) is up waiting for all ya'll slackers to get er together and send me mine. If I hear the Herberger's commercial one more time, "Give jooyyy, Give jooyy, Give jooyy, Give jooyy. GIVE JOY! Come to the right place!" I swear I'm gonna put my size 10 right through the screen of the TV (so, everyone has a little holiday aggression, right?) My exterior lights are up and flip on and off manually until I can figure out how to use the damn timer... again. My window boxes are billowing with $106.00 of spruce tops, rose hips and other coniferous branches (hi-way robbery, if I do say so myself). And those little indoor/outdoor white light manufacturers? They are a bunch of damn liars. One light goes out and the rest stay lite? I call B.S. on that! Once I get my tail in gear and throw these out I can officially sit back sip a, "hot toddy," and wait for Santa to squeeze his big, red, butt down the chimney.

We're freakin' nuts...

The alarm clock rang at 6:45am. The grind-n-brew did it's thing at 6:50am. I could hear old man Winter's frosty breath rattle against the bedroom windows. The thermometer registered at 8 lonely degrees. On any other morning it would have been torture to consider crawling out from under the pile of flannel sheets and quilts. I slithered out from my cozy nest, brushed my bucks, slapped on a little lip gloss and began the layering process. Five, count em, five layers of dry fit on the top and three layers of running tights on the bottom. One pair of cotton socks covered with some wools ones and a fleece lined stocking cap to boot (this is one way to work up a sweat). Cue the snow. I know, if we weren't from hearty Midwestern stock we woulda turned right around and called it quits. But, it's tradition, and debatably child torture, all in the name of a great T-shirt. Our second annual Reindeer run was 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) of undoubtedly, "fresh," air and fabulous company. I mean listen, if St. Nick can make his way through the white and wintery snow, so can Hank's all terrain stroller! In theory it looks like a day started in the right direction with a healthy does of outdoor exercise... Until we capped of our adventure with a greasy Chammps burger and two rounds of bloodies (don't forget the side cars). Well, afterall we certainly thought we deserved it. AND, just because my hubby LOVES it when I, "roll," my own home videos...

Will Design For Food.

I've been outta touch, I know. But I'm back and in rare blogging form. So, I know you are asking yourself, "what in the sam hell is going on with that crazy chicka?" I, like thousand of other have found myself without my old 8-5 due to the,"R," word. Now, close your mouth, it's really not a good look for you. I kinda didn't tell you right away, and I hope you aren't mad. The heads up was a good thing. It gave me the time to have a minor melt down with a side of a nervous breakdown. But now, mentally I am ready to tackle this job-less-ness head on. (Head on, apply it directly to the pain, head on... remember that terrible commercial?!?) Anyway, I'll spare you all the gory details, cuz there aren't many, and just say on all accounts my departure could not have been more amicable. Ok, so now what, right? Now, I design for food (preferably money if ya have it), and try to make heads or tails about how to start a little ole interior design biz of my own. Maybe call it 34B & Associates? Only problem is this is my only associate and she's not real great at answering the tele. Then I thought 34B Design With Me, but it sort of leaves the door open for competition to rebut with 38DD Design With Me, and we all know I can't compete with that. So I'm gonna keep it simple. Call it like it is... Brooke Voss Design. Ok, now what? As soon as I figure it out I'll let you know.

But now seriously... Have you ever heard the phrase, "Friendship is like a bank account. You make as many deposits as you can cuz you never know when you will need to make a with drawl." I'm not sure what I did to hornswaggle all these great people into friending me, but without a doubt I have made some serious with drawls lately. For you who diffused my initial panicked call and who offered, "lean on me," (I almost needed to after our afternoon into evening bar stint) without you I am sure I would still be crying in my beer-thank you-you have no idea how much you have helped. For you who spend hours on the phone with me telling me how you did it and how I can do it to-thank you made me see the light and helped me move on. For you who called from Lakefield EVERY SINGLE day to just say, "how ya doin today?" your call always left me feeling loved and at ease-thank you. For you, who has been my, "side-car," and free lance designer since 1996 your friendship is like those of folklore-I am eternally grateful you moved into 810,Gage B. For you, who I initially didn't want to tell about the woes of the time for fear you would fret-thank you MOM for everything always-now stop worrying. For you, who lived through every wave of emotions, no doubt I married up. I can honestly say without you and your CONTINUOUS support I would be nothin. For you, my family, who is stuck with me for life thank you for being there, and I didn't really mean your mom should return you. For everyone, you know who you are, thank you for your emails, your phone calls and your pep talks. Now, Monday, back to your regularly broad casted 34B cup nonsense. Thank goodness. Happy Friday.

I'll be back...

Listen... Cut a gal some slack. I've got a million and one things on my mind which is why I have been totally slacking in the blog depo. But, I'm back on the wagon and will have an update of what the heck is going on with me later today. Blog with ya soon...

XOXO, 34b cup

Post Turkey Bloat...

If you are feeling anything like me, still feeling so full, wearing anything other than elastic waist pants is out of the question. But, tis the season for indulging in all the holiday cheer and fare. I did, we did and to be quite frank it was so worth it. So go on... permission to deviate from your South Beach diet. We spend the day ala turkey at the Disgruntled Princess' castle, as per normal her feast was nothing short of amazing. The day wouldn't have been complete without hearing what everyone is thankful for and the annual Thanksgiving play. Ahhh, I give thanks for my nutty relatives. Be sure to check out the Big Snoot's blog for an update on the Turkey 2008 photo album. Have a great weekend and take-r easy on your, "black Friday," shopping expedition. I think I've heard some mumbling about a slight recession. See you Monday.

Denied access.

Remember waaaay, back when my blog was born? Remember, when I said this blog stuff is sure fun, but a damn waste of perfectly good time? I take it back, suck that statement right out of your waxy ear drums. I have found something else that is beyond stupid, beyond silly, so far beyond your typical mind numbing cyber experience. Face it, Facebook is the ultimate time killer AND I LOVE IT. So surprise! To the left is my Facebook profile pic, complete with weird, double-side-chin thing I have going on there. I look hip-hap-happy as a clam because the pic was taken at a bar amidst a barrage of cocktails, again big surprise. So anywayz, if you too are wasting precious seconds of your life, which can never been recovered, "Facebooking," look me up. Lets regret this when we are old together, huh? Speaking of regrets to date I have just one, well, besides wearing that stripped shirt that makes my arms look large and in charge. I'm not gonna get into all the blood and guts, but there is only ONE person on this universe I wish would have eternal, scarring acne and burning, molten-hot diarrhea. Yesterday, he asked to be my, "friend." No way, no how is this mother of all mother humpers getting a glimpse at my daily updates. I'm off limits! Denied access you creep-o-la! Git, go, skee-daddle back under the rock you crawled out from under! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Ahhhh, there... with that off this big chest of mine I feel much, much better.

P.S. What happens if you click ignore to a friend request? Just curious...

I. Love. Her.

I spotted her out of the corner of my eye among the oodles and oodles of crap/treasures at Hunt and Gather. She's creepily fabulous with her slightly upturned grin/scowl and her prominent German nose. If she was still alive (painting circa 1920) she would definitely have I Feel Bad About My Neck on her short list of good reads. I mean, seriously, get a look at her gobbler! I bet she was a real bi-atch in the best-est sense of the word. The kind of broad who curtly sat in the front pew at church, but flew home to tear the top off the bottle of moonshine with her teeth. Yup, that's her. Forty bucks later (my Hubby says I got screwed) she earned her NEXT resting spot atop my mantle. NEXT, because who knows were she will land once her immortal life with me is over. But here's the real question... Where did she come from? I mean someone loved/hated her enough to paint her and now she ends up somehow, someway unwanted (except by me) at a local antique store. Where's her family, why isn't she creeping out her great, great, great grand kids friends instead of mine? Anywayz, she is fabo and I've decided she's my good luck granny. Oh, and her name... Mathers. Granny Mathers because Martina said so...

P.S. Antique art = Saving a Landfill. I love this peice (artist unknown) and this peice by my Great Uncle Quinten (painted for my MOM) too.

Fashion Friday: Today's Favored Accessory

Happy Friday kids of legal drinking age! Today's Fashion Friday post features my favored accessory for the weekend... any cold, wet, alcoholic beve will do. Fire me an icy cold one, or a perfectly shaken not stirred one, a finely garnished one, an exotic one, a $10 bottle one or hell gimme one a these M-F'ers. All I know is we'll be needing a round of these in the morning! Now, we all know you can't consume all of these in one bender booze session or you'll end up sleeping with john (been there, done that)(as in the crapper people, come on). So pick one or two (beer after liqueur never been sicker, liqueur before beer you're in the clear) and forget about all that moderation nonsense. Each and every cocktail-a-licious accessory comes with foggy eyes, a shiny forehead, a fat tongue and a severely impaired sense of judgement. Doesn't that sound fun?!?

Got one!

Just by the hair on my chin-ney-chin-chin (reminder... wax tonight), but I got one. Whoa! It was a tough crowd this year. The secret got out that the down town Target on Nicollet Mall typically has samplers to go around. I didn't tell a soul... but someone let the cat outta the bag. So this morning I take the bus in and stroll across 9th Street to grab my quota of two samplers. Whaaa-paaa! I am smacked in the face with herds of crazy people acting like it's the door buster of the millennium! I barely got my copies and they were G-O-N-E! So here's what's so special bout these discs, in case you've been living under a rock. Each year Cities 97 asks artists to record acoustic sets of their latest and greatest hits in their, "studio C." 35,000 copies of the cd are made and are sold at local Target stores with all of the proceeds benefiting local charities like Make A Wish, Camp Heartland, Bridging, the Animal Humane Society (love) and the Tubman Family Alliance. I've already listened and already committed to burn two pirated versions for pals (buy me a beer-get a burned disc). The second copy? Ebay, baby!

Be veh-wee, veh-wee quiet.

This whole duck hunting thing... It's complex in nature. I've never really understood it all. I would never have conceded if my Hubby hadn't finally admitted face paint is not mandatory. Gear for starters... More gear is required than I ever knew even existed (no wonder the Cabela's bill is what it is each month). First, you have waders so you can slither through the icy water to put out bags upon bags of decoys. One must always remember what goes out must come back in. Second, you can't forget you're four legged friends camo (apparently ALWAYS Advantage Camouflage) so she doesn't sink (or catch a chill). Finally, multiply all of that by two in case your spouse decides to (gets talked into) tag along. The next part is the worst... You gotta, "think like a gopher," and get up at the butt crack of dawn in the most inclement of conditions. No doubt, I would rather stay nuzzled in here. After all is said and done it's a game of calling (try the, "lonesome hen," it goes, "digga, digga, dooga, dooga) and waiting, and waiting and waiting. Or film a video so you will

NEVER be invited back again...

Say good-bye to my Coppertone'd bum...

That's it. Done, dun and dunne. Oh sure, it's gonna be hard, but I've been scared as a ghost. AND, I'm gonna look like one now that I have turned over my new Casper white leaf. This morning I traded in my three stitches for sixteen new ones. Yes! Sixteen! Eight on the inside and 8 on the outside. Great. Just what I need is another dimple on my big ole butt. Here's the deal. Some lab rat in pathology didn't like what they saw under the microscope, so back under the scalpel I go. Carved right down to the fat and grissel to get all the bad cells (spitz tumor) out and keep me free of the melanoma. I marched (actually, more like shuffled) off the table and went right straight to Walgreen's. Two boxes of Tefla bandages, one jug of Extra Strength, Rapid Release Tylenol and SPF 70 sunblock for my upcoming winter safari. Think I am kidding?!? They really truly make it, and I really truly will be the, "whitest cracker arse," ever to walk the beaches of Mexico. I've seen the light or blocked the light, whatever. Uh, huh. A self photograph of my wound, all in the name of blog material.

Fashion Friday: Blaze on.

Hip-happiest Fashion Friday to you! If you live in the getting-chillier-every-single-morning-Midwest, first off, sorry about that. Second, I hope you have fully transferred any linen to the back of your closet and wool or velvet to the front. Just because the, "rise and shine," temps are below freezing doesn't mean you have permission to wear a sleeping bag everyday. Autumn is the perfect time to break out the blazer. Maybe I should clarify... The UPDATED blazer. If your closet could be used as, "wardrobe," for the next Designing Women cast we need to talk. No shoulder pads. No pant suits. Just blazers. Here's a few rules to, "blaze," by:

No.1 Check the shoulders: Make sure the jacket doesn't extend beyond your shoulder creating the, "borrowed from my boyfriend," look. Unless, of course, you are doing the walk of shame or trying to do the, "borrowed from my boyfriend," look.

No. 2 Check the waist: If you are pear shape look for jackets which, "pinch," in a bit to define your, "little in the middle." If you have a larger midsection choose a jacket with a, "straight," fit.

No. 3 Check the length: Play with the proper jacket length to create the illusion of a longer torso if you are a bit more stout. If you have a longer, leaner torso (we hate you) wear a jacket cut right to mid waist and pull on a pair of low rise trousers. Keep in mind no tummy should be bared, so your shirt needs to be long enough tuck completely as to avoid the, "whale tail."

No. 4 Matching set not needed: Leave the Hil-ster to wear the pant suits. Pair your blazer with your flav-o-rito pair of blue jeans and a thin scarf for softness.

No. 5 Remember your fly: So it has nothing to do with your jacket, but just a friendly reminder. Be sure to check your fly after each and every restroom visit. I spy 'd an open barn door today in the sky way and didn't have the heart to tell her.

Happy weekend...

Under the weather...

I'll take two and blog to you in the morning.

PS I want my MOM.

This laundry won't do itself!

I don't know how I let it get sooo far out of control. One day life is good and the options of available clean underwear are endless. The next day you are standing bare-arse-naked in your closet searching the bin of undies. Upon the first round of digging you pass by the thong which cuts the circulation off to your brain. Forget the granny pants which bequif (did I really just use the word bequif? Did I spell it write? Don't mistake it for... never mind.) the VPL (visible panty line for any new and un-34bcup-educated readers). I'm certainly not going to wear the ones that are too tight in the waist, giving me a sort of spilling over the top feeling. Commando is not an option, at least not today, I'm not quite desperate enough. Why can't I just throw out all these stupid, ill fitting underwear and get on with going to work already. Time check: 6:45am and I gotta hit the road. Options: Speed wash? Hand wash/rinse a pair in the sink and hope my ion blow dryer has enough guts to dry em FAST. Recycle? Flip the back to front or the inside to outside. I'm grossing MYSELF out. Borrow a pair? Can you really tell if I am wearing a pair of boxer briefs under this wool a-line dress? Hose? Wear a pair of tights with a sort of built-in panty kinda thingy. I mean it's there for a reason, right? Right?

First, I'd like to thank...

...my fans (hellllloooooooo, anyone out there?), my family and of course Grace-Fabulous from Question Certain Perfection for the Superior Scribbler Award! Feels just like getting your name on the board with a star behind it! See Hubby? All that clicking away of non-sense finally pays off with a little pat on the backside (if you touch my bum, I'll break your fingers). So here's how this thang works. I, the proud recipient, accept the award (thank you, thank you) and then I pass it on to 5 more noteworthy blogs (a.k.a. colossally fun time burners). You in turn check out these 5 new blogs and see what all the hub-bub is about. The 5 blogs I mention pass on the award and we spread the love in chain letter fashion. Comprende? So drum roll pleezzzzzzzz:

No. 1 Mama's Losin' It - this gal is good! Who doesn't love an attention craving poodle?

No. 2 Looky Daddy - He's funny, he's witty, he's a darn good daddy blogger.

No. 3 Same Stuff Different Day - Let's all embrace a brand new blogger, who some how, some way, found her way to the B cups. Keep on writing and I'll keep reading.

No. 4 SevEn CLoWn CirCuS - For cryin' out loud! Let's be honest, anyone who can raise 5 little people and still blog rocks.

And No. 5 The Sits Girls - Because I'm hungry.

There. I did my part. The chain was not broken and now it is up to the fore mentioned bloggers to let the legacy live. Go on people! Dooooo ittttttt!

1. Post the award on your blog
2. Link me for giving it to you
3. Link the originating post here
4. Pass the award on to 5 more deserving people
5. Post these rules for your recipients

P.S. Don't forget to check out my every, single, day, tried and true flav-o-rito reads listed to the right. These daily reads are near and dear to my bloggy heart.

Retraction: No Good Answer...

I know it's Fashion Friday and I've made a promise to keep you up to speed on what I'm tracking in the vain world of clothes, shoes and accessories. But, today I feel so far from fabulous I can't come up with anything. Instead, I'll give a retraction to the statement I made yesterday about my post, "No Good Answer."

Yesterday I said... Of all days... Today... I got asked the good question... 10pm WCCO to see the painful response.

And today I say... It was not painful. More like excruciating. I've seeked him out, practically stalked, good ole Jason DeRusha on Nicollet Mall trying to get my 15 seconds of fame. Now if you REALLY know me you know I was really hoping to get on when my, "boyfriend," Ben Tracy did the segment. Alas, I missed my chance and he shipped out to interview all the California girls and Jason took his spot. Don't get me wrong Jason does a fabo job, but if I moved my not-so-secret crush on to him Hank's Mom would tan my hide. Anyway, you can tell my pal Betsy, "hates this kinds sh*t," as she so gently put it and I am practically yelling, "ROLL IT," before he can even get his introduction out. So go ahead watch the clip... Yes, I said, "CATASTROPHE," and my hubby pointed out I really meant, "EPIDEMIC." I'm a moron. And yes I really said, "layoff," to all the expert health advisers who say to get the flu shot. I'm way too sassy for my own good. And yes, I really truly said something about a bunch of people, "getting poked." What is wrong with me? Ashamed? I doubt it. If that were the case I wouldn't get through a single day. Seriously, though watch WCCO weeknights for more, "Good Questions," or view them online. If you are feeling really smart (or stupid for that matter) send Jason your own Good Question.

Monday: I pass on the torch for the Superior Scribbler Award. Stay Tuned! Have a great weekend AND if you really feel the need to protect yourself against disease spreaders like myself-go on get poked already.

Home SWEET SoDak

Gas up the car, pack some clean undies and stow your favorite mix tape (now commonly referred to as your ipod playlist) for the 4.5 hour road trip through the heartland. I know... It's some serious windshield time. If you pack enough, "seeds," to coat the walls of your mouth with canker sores and make a pit stop here for a, "gut-bomb," burger (dog treats given out at the drive thru)(don't kid yourself we stopped on both legs of the trek) (thanks NJ) it seems tolerable. Stiff legs and a sore bum are a small price to pay for walking in the garage to see this. If your name were Bonnie, Karen, Christian, *Little Brooke or Kelly you would know this is the chalkboard used to play school (or plot out military attacks-stupid boys) in my parent's garage. The current inscription has been there since the day (Fall, 1996) I left for college. Just a quick little sketch of the U-Haul my parents drug 450 miles to move their only kid into twin towers, 12 floors each, full of freshman sneeking beer inside their backpacks. Twelve years later it is STILL there! Of course the house is dec'd out in Halloween style, per usual, and this crazy little witch (handcrafted by yours truly in 3rd grade) is still front and center on the back door. Question? Are parents really required to hang on to stuff like this for 22 years? If we are talking years, it was 17 years ago that I got my first job HERE! I worked for $4.25/hour, yes, less than the minimum wage. Well come on, I was 14 and loved coming home with sweet ice cream smelling hair, a stripe of over sprayed malt on my navy blue oxford and red cherry slush stained Keds. Ahhhh, 1991... Life was simpler then. School passed out free games/rounds/matches/whatever at the local bowling alley, MOM gave you cash & dropped you off at the front door of the theatre, nothing in your closet required you to stop on the corner of Main Street and 6th Avenue and the worst thing that could happen was a burnt tongue from a molten hot, cream-style corn nugget from Scotty's. Don't get me wrong I wouldn't trade spots now for all the Pinot Noir in Oregon. I mean nothin' is like sharing a bottle with your God Mother (The Ginge) and your MOM. Or seeing with your own two eyes your 92 year old gramma looks JUST like she did when she was 82.
So like I said, no matter where you live, pack up the rig and head where ever home is.

I almost forgot. You want to know about *Little Brooke vs Big Brooke, right? Let me explain it with pictures. You see we had two Brooke's on Willow Drive. One Brooke was little, petite, as cute as a bugs ear. The other Brooke was tall, average Midwestern stock, with big feet. Yes, Big Brooke = 34B cup. If that won't scar a kid for life I don't know what will...

ROCK THE VOTE...

A quick update today before I tell you about, "home, SWEET, home." Go on and reward yourself for standing in line at the, "Church of the Open Door," for 1 and 1/2 hours! (BTW, why do the have a, "hot tub" in the lobby?) Sport your sticker all around town for free stuff! Free coffee at Starbucks! Free Ben and Jerry's ice cream! Free pint of Schells at Nomads! Free sex toy at Sex World (now I really have your attention!)! Free doughnuts at Krispy Creme! Free cookie at Wild Roast Cafe! Free admittance to the dance party tonight at First Ave! Free, Free, Free!!! I love FREE stuff (not as much as MOM, but I still LOVE it!)

PS If someone calls you tonight for the 16th time to remind you to vote, BE NICE! It might be the 34B cup!

You put yer right cheek in...

Two words... Right Cheek. Three stitches. Pain level... 1. I can't believe it. Of all moles to be concerned about who-da thunk the one that has rarely (I won't say never) seen a ray of sun needed to come off. So it happens, ya know? All those years of greasing up like the Thanksgiving turkey are bound to catch up with a gal. Oh I'm sure it's nothing but better to be sure. Take the mole send it to some lab and then call me in a few days (you will call, won't you?). In the meantime I'll shuffle like a 90 year old, hoist myself with my arms into and out of my car and learn to sleep on my tummy for the next 2 weeks. Updates (minus gross photos) to follow. Tomorrow-the weekend update. A little look at where the B cups grew up (riveting blog material, I know.)

A Halloween Blog Post

It just wouldn't be right if I didn't supply a MOM joke on Halloween Eve...

A bald man with a wooden leg gets invited to a Halloween party. He doesn’t know what costume to wear to hide his head and his leg. He writes to a costume company to explain his problem.

A few days later he received a parcel with the following note:

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a pirates outfit. The spotted handkerchief will cover your bald head and with your wooden leg you will be just right as a pirate.

Very Truly Yours,
Acme Costume Co.

The man thinks this is terrible because they have emphasized his wooden leg and so he write a letter of complaint. A week goes by and he receives another parcel and a note, which says:

Dear Sir,

Please find the enclosed monk’s habit. The long robe with cover your wooden leg and with your bald head you will really look the part.

Very Truly Yours,
Acme Costume Co.

Now the man is really upset since they have gone from emphasizing his wooden leg to emphasizing his bald head so again he write the company another nasty letter of complaint. The next day he gets a small parcel and a note, which read:

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a bottle of molasses and a bag of crushed nuts. Pour the molasses over your bald head, pat on the crushed nuts, stick your wooden leg up your ass and go as a carmel apple.

Very Truly Yours,
Acme Costume Co.

Come on kids, it's your civic duty!

I don't care who you vote for as long as you vote for the same person I want! Ok, so that's not really true. Yes, it's no secret who the B cups support, but here's the real deal. I'm not interested in trying to talk you into supporting the donkeys and I'n not interested in being urged to vote for the elephants. Fair, right? So HERE IS what I am going to try and talk you into. Know the issues. Learn the facts. Don't let some TV commercial producer assist you in making these very important decisions. Knowledge is power bloggey voters and if you still don't know who you are going to vote for then, "what in the sam hell are you waiting for?" Seek out the candidate the most aligns with your beliefs and get your tail in line to vote. Complaining will not be tolerated by anyone who does not give a rip enough to learn the facts and take a stand. With that said, mark your calenders to do the right thing and vote (ok, so a little fun isn't illegal is it?). So everyone is talking (and talking and talking...) about Obama vs McCain and Franken vs Coleman and Madia vs Paulsen, but what about the other issues? (Insert Tim, the toolman, Tailer, ahhhuuuh noise here.) I know! There is more to think about! For example city offices, judicial offices (mental note to call Bean for input) and the Clean Water, Wildlife, Cultural Heritage and Natural Areas Amendment. So you have 6 days and counting. Getcher head in the game and learn about what you need to vote on. Here's how to attempt to wrap your brain around all of this if you live in Hennepin County. From the county website you can get yourself a sample ballot just by typing in your address. Great now half the battle is done. You know what is expected of you now get on out there and vote. Got cha!

The best-est little/big apple tree, ever...

I know you were expecting a little romance today, but I lied. Get over it. Maybe tomorrow. Instead you get a story about a sorta sickly looking apple tree. A tree no more than 8 feet high, at best, rooted firmly in front of Grandma C's farm house. FYI-Grandma C., Dolores, Tootie is my Hubby's maternal grandma. A titch of arthritis, a smudge of Parkinson's and just old fashioned growing elder has taken grandma from her farm into town to a nursing home. So back to this little/big tree. It hasn't been trimmed, or watered (outside of mother nature's realm), or worried about and it certainly has not been fertilized in some time. But still this little/big, guy/gal has persevered and produced a bounty of beautiful apples. Weak looking branches hanging heavy and low because of the sweet, red weights attached to its arms. How could we drive by without stopping to collect the perfectly ripened pomme de terres? We couldn't. We picked a paper bag full AND still left the tree with more fruit for the next passerby. What to do with 50 lbs of apples? Stay tuned to see. Thank you Grandma Tootie!

Belated Fashion Friday: East Coast Trend

Oh for Pete's sake, better late than never people! I'm a woman of my word so today we have a belated Fashion Friday tidbit for you. The B cups have arrived back in msp toting a little East coast fashion update in my carry on. EVERYONE (who is seemingly anyone) is doing the, "tuck." Channel your inner English rider because it's all the rage this season. Some heels, but mostly flat or wedge heeled slouchy (sometimes slim-biatches) leather boots in black, brown, deep blue or grey are pounding the pavement in the big apple. So sorry if you broke your piggy bank last year on a pair of these but alas the Uggs are out and these are in. Ok, fine still a few Ugg-ly boot spottings here and there but they are outnumbered 10 to 1 (at least). I can tell your mad. You think the, "tuck," won't work since you aren't a stovepipe-jean-kinda-gal, right? Think again. I am anything but the skinny jean type and I found the perfect pair to match up with my boots at JCrew. Try the, "Matchstick," fit which is definitely and straighter jean, but without the super low rise which leaves you susceptible to the, "quarter slot." I know you are gonna poop your, "Matchsticks," but this is coming back people! I know! But wait, there's more. The legging will not die and is currently being paired with these same boots and longer, bum covering, sweaters or T's and short, leather biker-esque jackets. Before you get all jazzed up about not having these items in your current line up consider this. The staple colors of brown, grey, black and white are still totally, "it," and can be mixed and matched in any combos. Black leggings, grey sweater, brown saddle boots? Yes! White shirt, brown jacket, dark blue jeans and black boots? Yes! Seriously, all neutrals are alike and can be paired how ever your little heart desires.

Speaking of hearts-tune in tomorrow for a tiney-eeney dose of romance.

"Sup," in the city:

Hot off the 34B cup press... What's, "sup," in the city my blogging peeps... Are you ready? This is so fun... The house, and when I say house I mean mansion, that Mr. Big offers to buy Carrie in the Sex and the City movie is the SAME house I have been working in for the last few days. No need to read again. It's true! 2 East 63rd Street was used in the incredible apartment scenes AND is the location for the Holiday House benefiting the Susan G. Koman foundation! Go back and rent the flick and the room you see when Big and Carrie walk in the door... YES! it's the room my firm has for the show! Want proof? Here's what I know... One block off of Central Park, 5 floors, allegedly on the market for 70 million bukaroos, complete with an interior courtyard and library, living room and dining room dating back to the late 1800's (A plus sighting)! Yes, it's true it is in major need of come TLC, but still unbelievable real estate in NYC. Click here for more information on this amazing address! PS The girl working on the room next to us is a contestant on Top Design-I know never watched it either (D minus sighting). So today while walking to the house I passed Adam Sandler on East 63rd between Park Avenue and Madison Avenue! (PS his chin is getting super chubby-I know-happens to the best of em)(A minue sighting). So the evening got better when walking to get a glass of wine at the renowned Odeon (Tribeca) and stumbled across a taping of the new pilot show, Fringe, for FOX and saw Joshua Jackson from Dawson's Creek (B minus sighting)! So just when you think, WOW, this girl is where it is all happening consider this... For the 1st time since I have been traveling to this city I saw NOT ONE but TWO rats on the same day down deep in the bowels of the city's subway system. Not quite as glamorous for sure. Also, not as glamorous flying coach back to the midwest tomorrow morning. BUT, stay tuned for an update on the Fashion Friday: The MUST have-being seen everywhere trends from the big city.