"N" is for Noonce...

Have you ever had a moment(s) in time where you feel like you are acting in a clip of a movie complete with surround sound? This picture is one of those moments where I can hear the 3's Company theme rockin' in the background. See Casa 34b has had a little more testosterone over the last few months. My bro-in-law graduated about a year ago (yay! Go Mavs) and has since landed his first "real" job. He's been shackin' up with us (figuratively, not in a weird swinger sort of way) and tuckin' away some extra cash-o-la to bite the bullet and buy a town house. "My dear, sweet brotha Nuuncy (Golden Child circa 1986 )"," "Noonce," "D," "Dano," or my personal fav, "D-Noonce," is one heck of a guy. Can you believe this is the LITTLE bro? My hubby, the middle, is seriously the runt of the litter (but you make up for it in your charm and good looks honey). Anywho, D makes three and if I get to cast the characters-my hubby and I will be Mr. and Mrs. Roper and Noonce will star as Jack. Just a little shout out to all the ladies...get while the gettin' is good, cuz he's still single. Please note: only accepting applications for fun chicks b/c I'm not down with a boring sister-in-law. But, in all seriousness this is the kind of guy you want on your Trivial Pursuit team, he is my human calculator (and dictionary), and best of all I can count on him to smack my hubby right in the "the sweet spot" of the shoulder during any sort of altercation (must be all those years of getting beat on as a little bro). If you loved Three's Company and want a throw back to kick start your Wednesday-pause the normal blog music and play the link in the right hand column. Theme song brought to you by Joe Raposa (the same dude that wrote "C" Is For Cookie). I know, the hits keep on comin'. Roll back tomorrow for the infamous story on how I met the in laws-it's one for the history books.

PS You don't need to tell me... I already know I look like the uni-bomber in this photo.

Fire in the hole!!!

B-O-M-B-E-D out! This is what our entire (you must know by now I exaggerate just a teeny bit) front lawn looks like. It is so depressing to look out and see how green and lush the other yards in the hood are. And then take a gander at the B cup's yard. Brown and dead, period. The only spots that have managed to bounce back from the long, hard winter are infested tufts of crab grass. See Miss Kato pees fire, always has and probably always will, 'nuf said? Each spring we crawl out of hibernation and contemplate if it might not be easier to just move and start over (so our generation, isn't it?). This year was just a little different because we had a little extra man power, if ya know what I mean. See the youngest from my hubby's clan has been hangin' round and so we put his young back to work (thanks Dano!). Check out Three's Company (loved that show) 34b cup style here. The process began for the boys at 10am tilling up the crusty earth and weeding out the dead (I was having a bloody mary and sharing nachos with MOM-as I should be). The next step was to fill all the gaping holes with rich, black soil and fold in mass quantities of gypsum (per Marla, the master gardener at Dundee) and YES the b cups were sweatin' too (seriously). Step three and four blend in grass seed and mist with fresh H2O to begin the germination process (not sure why we bothered b/c at this point it started to snow-WTF?!?). Last but not least cover the entire yard with the pellet-like-coating of good ole gypsum (again). Start to finish time 8:23:15. No wonder I was a little punchy during the filming of this clip with the fertilizer spreader.

Speaking of spreadin' em, erh, uh, nevermind... KIDDING. Seriously, tomorrow we're gonna talk about life as Mr. and Mrs. Roper. TTFN!

Keepin' a stiff upper lip (& a stiff drink too)!

Wow! What a weekend! It is waaaay past my bedtime on Sunday night as I frantically type a post to give you sneek peek into some of the weekend happenings while MOM was here for a visit. Saturday commenced with Hell's beer-bloody-mary's (the BEST bloodys ever are made by my friend Nicki C. from the lone star state-hands down) with 1 of my kissin' cousins, Roni, followed by a little shopping spree intended to boost the current weak economy (thanks to my favorite Auntie), and of course followed up with a cocktail hour chaser (we gals can hold our booze). And what great happy hour isn't followed up with a little group hair removal?!? I KNOW! My MOM and I (like all ladies whether you want to admit it or not) foster the occasional stray hair on the ole upper lip. I used to do the wax, but became frustrated by the very attractive "pimple mustache" the process left behind (seriously, which is worse?). I then turned to the tedious task of tweezing. Yes it gets the job done, but takes WAY too long to try and track down all those little suckers and then just when you think you got em all you get in your car and realize you weren't even close. Finally, a friend, colleague and fellow blogger showed me the way of Nair (for faces-please make no mistake). This stuff really works and leaves you smooth and hairless with no nasty little white heads (jury is still out on if the chemicals will make you grow a 3rd nipple...). I am so into the Nair ways of the world my hubby keeps tellin' me if I, "keep it up I am gonna look like Tom Sellick!" Seriously, is it true the more you wax, pluck, Nair, the thicker and full that stuff comes back? If so I am soooo screwed!

BTW, no animals were hurt in the posting of this blog entry. The white Nair-look-alike substance on Miss Kato's nose in indeed whip cream for photo enhancement purposes only (and because the drinks were flowin...)

Anyway, I'm dog tired. Come back tomorrow and I will show you why.

My B cups went to NYC and all I got was this stupid blog post...

Happy FF! Here's the deal. I am gonna make this as short as my best pal Amy B is (Ames you break 5 feet, don't ya?). I LOVE "I heart NYC" T's. As a matter of fact I own one, my husband owns one AND I bought one for cute, lil Hank for bloggey sitting a few weeks ago. This is a classic piece of true Americana. But please, whatever you do, keep this shirt tucked in your suitcase until you get at least 200+ miles away from Manhattan. Seeing people with a still creased in the shoulder, not one bit mis-shapen or shrunk shirt on walking down Mercer Street screams, "I'm a tourist and I woulda worn my fanny pack if I hadn't read a story about people getting mugged!" Yes we all love a little hokey memorabilia from our travels and I am not above it. I am just saying that 3 for $9.99 T you bought from the man with the bad B.O. on the corner of Prince and Broadway will be much cooler if you exercise a little restraint and wait till you get home to wear it. So there you have a little traveling fashion 101 whether you like it or not.

Like it or not MOM is coming for the weekend (kidding I love it when the double L (Linda Lou) visits). I am sure I will have a whole weeks worth of material come Monday-not that I would ever put you through that... Love ya'll and have a great weekend!

Rules of East coast engagement...

Sometimes you really gotta work it. I mean shake what-cher MOMMA gave ya and get your pimp on to get a interior design job in the big apple. No one and I mean no one does that better than the Brooke and Andrew show (the ambiguously 1/2 gay duo). We worked the Kips Bay Showcase House Gala last night like a part time job. And I learned a couple of great tidbits to keep in your back pocket should you ever decide to try Manhattan on for size. No. 1: If this show house was what established East coast designers have to offer they better be ready for the punch the Midwest crew has to offer-we could do what they did in our sleep, hungover, after laser eye surgery with 4" Manolos on! No 2: New Yorkers are a lot like eggs. They all have this sort of hard shell, but it takes just a tiny bit of effort to crack the veneer and they melt in your hands. I just don't think are used to randoms striking up a conversation (I'm sure you are so shocked since I am so shy). So when I/we do they are as easy as girls on prom night. We met a developer from the Upper East Side who asked where we were both from and when we told him he said, "aaahhh, no wunda you-ahhre so nice." (work with me, I'm tryin' my best to capture the accent) No. 3: Getting wasted at a big function only makes you look like a huge tool-box. Not that we all don't already know that, but non-the-less a good reminder. No. 4: Andrew really will do what it takes to get a job in NYC. We saw this perfectly quaffed, beautifully dressed, glamorously covered in jewelry woman who looked like she needed some male companionship. I said, "Well, you said you would do what it takes!" He said, "yup, and I will but I am not making any promises." And then I said, "bring as close to an A game as you can and leave only after a little snuggling and you're money." (yes-fellow bloggers-I was pimpin' him out) No. 5: A great little black dress is always a good choice for the unknown dress code situation. A friend of a friend used to say, "I'm not overdressed, everyone else just looks like hell." Amen.

No I didn't forget... Tomorrow a little souvenir for your Fashion Friday...

Inaugural Swim 2008

Some are born to round up cattle, or sniff out bombs/drugs or help guide the blind and some, well, some are born to be spoiled. This is livin' the high life if you are a 76lb (hopefully) Chocolate Labrador Retriever on a sunny afternoon. When we first brought her home (an impulse purchase/adoption that would forever change our lives) we tried to be the best pet owners we could be. Feed the natural instincts of her breed like loving kids, sniffing out birds and the love of the water (hence the kiddie pool idea which you see today). This is probably pool number 4 or 5 since I have taken to backing right over them when we are too lazy to empty it out at night and I screech out of the 'hood late for work. If you live a little ghetto style the pool can also double as a great cooler for massive amounts of ice chilled brew-ha-ha's (the thought is still makin' my tummy shiver). Sunday, recovery day, in our neck of the woods was a great day and we rang it in by sleeping off hangovers until 9:30am (those J-ston kids are such bad influences) and not showering til 9:30pm (P.U. gross we both admit). Once we got our bummin' butts outta bed we tried to think of every excuse to stay outside a little longer. We watered trees and the pansies (still living!), washed and waxed not one but TWO automobiles, received 3 solicitations from our neighbors to do theirs next (these guys think they are so funny) and while we had the hose out we let Miss Kato have her inaugural Spring 2008 swim. I know, there is something wrong with us (I admit it) but we love our furry friend. At least she didn't go potty in the pool-she is trained better than some kids (and sadly some adults).

Can you believe it is Thursday ALREADY? I am back in the big apple and will bring you somethin' fab from the East coast tomorrow.

2somes, 3somes or 4somes (depends on the day)!

Surprise! I'm no Tiger Woods. As a matter of fact I just "picked" up the sport in college. Each summer taking lessons from the local North Links Pro, Marc, and since then I have managed to get worse and worse every single summer. I used to "kill" the ball off the T, now I am just happy when I make solid contact (you know-no worm burners and for sure not "topping" the ball"). AND as I get older and begin to not give a rip about some things, I have for some reason developed some golf anxiety. You know, your heart rate soars and your hands get sweaty if the group playing behind you catches up and waits in silence for you to take a big hack with your driver (consider us close since I put this clip on the blog). Every time my Hubby reminds me, "Who cares? You paid the same amount as they did-just golf and have fun!" Easy to say if you have been playing since you could walk and have a 13 handicap! Seriously, we play & he scores a 40 and I score a 68, (on 9 holes people) no wonder I am exhausted. I was swinging away almost twice as much! If I have learned one important lesson in golf AND in life: don't ever try to take lessons from your partner and partners don't even try to give "pointers." I mean this is the sort of thing that breaks up great marriages. My Hubby used to be full of good-golf-wisdom, but soon learned to refrain when I threatened to wrap my club around his neck. He knows keeps his lips zipped... when he can no longer hold back... "Honey, let me know if you want me to tell you what went wrong." Do I have this guy trained or what? The other important tidbit? Be sure and get a cute, pink golf bag. PS Keep you eyes peeled for some pink head covers too-the navy ones just aren't cutting it anymore.

Ok, my blogging two-somes, three-somes and four-somes (get your head out of the gutter) come back tomorrow it's hump day!