I’m disappointed. It appears a majority of people just don’t give any f*cks at all about a lot of stuff—including their appearance.

I’m no fashion model. I’m no expert. But I’ve always tried to look presentable even on days I’m going to the grocery store or for an acupuncture session. I wear clean clothes. Put on minimal makeup so I don’t frighten children. Spritz a little spritzy good, yet subtle smelling stuff on my skin.

When it comes to a special occasion, I put the effort in. My husband puts the effort in. We do this for each other. Yes, it takes a few extra minutes to get dolled-up, but it’s worth it.

The hubs and I went out for dinner on Valentine’s Day. We’ve been together for eight years, married for nearly five, and we are comfortable with each other. We see each other in our “comfy clothes” every day. But when we go out, we look presentable. For VDay, I wore a sexy red blouse, black pants, black boots, good makeup, nice hair, and jewelry. The hubs donned his one-time-a-year black tie with red hearts. It made his outfit pop.

We were amazed that only two other couples in the to-capacity restaurant were dressed for the Day of Love. A few people had the color red on. Most folks looked like they wore what they did to bed. Or to Walmart.

It takes just a few minutes more to try. And it’s more than the appearance—it’s the celebration. Life really is short. It really does pass by so quickly. That’s why I believe we need to celebrate things in life. We don’t know if we’ll get to celebrate next year. Find a red or pink shirt. Put on red lipstick if you don’t have any red, ladies. Guys, clean yourselves. Throw on the one sport jacket you have. Do it for each other.
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Just. Try. 

The Gmail features are usually good. But occasionally, a spam email escapes its punishment.

Check out this subject line:
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Gee, I bet this tw@twaffle thinks I’m related to Felix Vogel. Yes, yes. He’s my 17th cousin, thrice removed. That’s why I don’t know who the %&*( he is.

I do enjoy how the sender’s name is “lucky”. I feel this connection on a subconscious level because your name is Lucky. And I’m to feel lucky about this email. Yes! I will follow your instructions. LOL
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I’m even more impressed that my 17th cousin thrice removed is an engineer. This must be a legit thing!

I’m actually amused by this email. It appears to be from a real person, because he’s so eager to get in touch with me that he wrote back.

Slow your roll, scammer.
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Go get a real job. There are plenty out there.

This story gives a whole new definition to what a “Great Room” is...

You’re always a little nervous when you put your house up for sale. You want there to be a great response. You want people to fall in love with your home. You want it to sell quickly and for a lot of money.

It’s fun reading the description of your home that others will read. Makes your pad sound all awesome and stuff.

Doesn’t this sound wonderful? A 5,000 square-foot Colonial home with a gourmet kitchen, hardwood floors, master bedroom, and finished basement—that houses a sex room.

Come again?

We can’t see the pictures now of the special room, because other real estate agents complained. They’re just pissed because the house got thousands of views online after the post went up.

Sure that’s not the only thing that went up…

I love the real estate agent’s moxy:

“It’s what I call a private adult playground or sexual oasis,” said Melissa Leonard.

The house wasn’t always so… open. The owner lost his wife, then he renovated the basement with the kink items to satisfy his new girlfriend.

HA HA!

CLICK HERE to view the listing in Maple Glenn, PA. 

Yesterday alone, I received six (6) telemarketing calls. That’s the most I’ve gotten in one day. It’s so frustrating. Look, asshat. I’m not answering the phone unless I know who it is. Haven’t these idiots figured this out yet? Plus, if it’s a legit call—they’ll leave a message if it’s important.

When you add up the stupid phone calls and the scammy emails—you just want to scream!

Now, I’m getting spam text messages. 
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Look “Jen”. Go date yourself. First of all, nice try thinking I’m some dude hoping you sent me some “taco” pic. Ripe for catching a virus either way. Second of all, I’m a hetero chick. Don’t want to see your “fish farm”, and I’m married. Not on Zoosk. Ever.

Change my number to” 867-53-oh-no!

My twisted mind loved receiving this email:

Coincidence that someone named “Gross” is talking about healthy “V”s?

Also, who knew there were “cookie jar” rules? Shouldn’t I be the one to determine the rules for my play area?

I love the emails I get from this particular PR firm. And poor Lindsay’s day is nothing but sending out snatch emails.
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Let’s make this week’s ETC theme Pinterest. I’m always looking for fun hairstyles to try out because I get bored with my go-tos: straight, or curly. LOL

I saw this and thought: “I can’t really mess this style up, can I?”
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Cute, no? So, you guessed it—I clicked on the button. And as I scrolled down, I saw this:

EEK!

What does this user’s post have to do with this bun hairstyle? And who did her makeup?

Nightmares for a week…

I love the random irrelevant comment/post.
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Who knew Pinterest could be so offensive? While scrolling down my feed, I came across this gem.
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Of course, I was intrigued. My inner 12-year-old pimply-faced boy was snickering over the mere title “Moose Farts”. Plus, it’s a food item. So, I had to read on.

When I clicked on the recipe, I saw that this post was offensive… to one person.

Everyone is entitled to an opinion. But if you’re so offended, then just move on. No need to post that you don’t want anything “fart” in your mouth. I’m pretty sure most of us don’t want a real fart in our mouths. And I’m also certain this food item is nothing like a rank fart. It’s called humor. Perhaps if you removed the stick from your booty hole and relieved some of that internal pressure from your brain, you might find some joy in life.

For those of you not offended by farts, here’s the recipe:
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Ingredients:
1 can sweetened condensed milk
¼ cup melted butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 ½ cups dried coconut, fine or medium cut
1 ½ cups graham cracker crumbs
1 ½ cups chocolate chips
Additional graham cracker crumbs for rolling the cookie balls

Instructions:
Melt the butter, then combine with the sweetened condensed milk and vanilla extract until well-blended. Add the graham cracker crumbs, coconut and chocolate chips. Mix to combine well. Refrigerate for an hour or so before rolling the mixture into 1 ¼ inch balls. Make them on the smaller side because they’re rich. Roll the balls in additional graham cracker crumbs and once again chill until firm. Refrigerate in a sealed container to store.

If you’ve got money to burn and no pride, you can spend it on this Bubble Wrap Suit Zoltan Costume from the movie “Dude, Where’s My Car”?
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Yes, it’s made of real bubble wrap. I love popping bubble wrap. Can’t resist. So let’s say you drop the $24.95 from What On Earth on this bad boy. And then you get drunk and inevitably sweat inside this plastic death trap? You’re gonna stink. And slip, and slide. And your dumbass friends are going to pop you. Not in the fun, let’s-knock-da-boots, kind of way. But actually pop you. To me, this is not worth the $24.95. Because if I drop my dining-out budget on this suit, I need to get a couple of wears out of it. Also, I’m sure I could make this myself for a fraction of the cost. With some of the over-packing Amazon does, I’ve got enough bubble wrap for a wedding gown.

Pfft.
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Then, there’s this:

Pillow soft? Like My Pillow? Or what pillow exactly? Also, do the foil stripes come with each pair of panties, or am I totally out of the panty loop? That’s gonna be some jacked-up tan lines. Or perhaps she’s treating herself like she’d treat a baking pie—putting foil over the crust so you don’t want it to burn. Or is this some nouveau jogger fashion? Instead of jogging in my reflective vest, I’ve got a reflective ass…
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That’s all the random thoughts I have… for now…