First Ever Personal Shopping Experience! (formal)

OK, here is my very first personal shopper find. Keep in mind that this dress is not intended for adult use - unless you are going to a 70's dance party and smoking a lot of weed. Or whatever drug was hip in the 70's.

How freaking cute would this be on a little love? My friend is going to a family reunion in a BARN, so I thought this would be cute for her little one who will be about 15 months by then. Adorable, no? I found this at Boden.

Still working on the outfit for mama, but we'll get there.

**Sidenote: it is 9pm and all I've eaten since noon is a bowl of cereal, half of which Addy ate anyway. And yet, I cannot stop shopping!!! Either I have found my calling, or I need therapy.

Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a Material Girl

Premature disclaimer: this is going to be a long and fruity blog that will give you much to ponder, so if you haven't already put your feet up with a bowl of pudding, you best take care of that now.

My friend Diana and I were talking the other night about what spastic spenders we are, and what kind of pyschological dysfunction this comes from. I love how she put it... "Iiiiii neeeeeeeed.........A SHRUB! andwehavetogogetitrighthtisminuteoritwon'tbetheexactoneiwantaaahhhhhh!" I laughed at her insanity because I have just the exact same cocktail of obsessive, impulsive, sheer and utter spastic spending going on. No two ways to say it. Do any of my other crazies out there do this? You suddenly feel that you've had direct revelation that you MUST buy a shrub (insert here whatever applies, i.e. purse/shoes/noodle ramen/20 tons of gravel?) and you MUST buy it NOOOOW. NOW! You feel like the couch gave you the ejector electric hiney shock and so you LEAP off the offending furniture and run willy nilly with your arms flailing about all the way (shouting Willy Nilly!!! Shrubs!!!) to the approriate store that will fulfill this deepest, darkest compulsion and when you find it you just start throwing credit cards at the scared check out lady - just let me have it!!! I MUST BUY!!! And if's she too slow, you may even leap over the checkout stand and grab that scanner from the IQ deficient being you were saddled with, because for the LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY IT IS NOT THAT HARD TO SCAN 18 wheelbarrows!!!!

Has anyone done this? Me neither. But it sounds like a heaping good time.

Speaking of shopping, I've been thinking that it would be fun to channel, or harness, if you will, all of "shopping energies" into something that may do something positive for a change instead of just ruining my credit score. So, I think I want to become a personal shopper. I really haven't the foggiest notion of how to attempt somethint like this, so I thought I would start with a few test runs.

What you and I, lovely reader, are going to do is set out on a little adventure I like to call "Letting Micaela Dress You: Akin to sticking hot pokers in your eyes, or to a warm bath with a sea salt scrub?"

So here is what I need from you! I need submissions of info about you and what you are looking for. I will then search high and low, hither and yon until I find what I think the best thing would be. Once I have found said item(s), I will then post what you asked for, etc. and then post my response, and everyone can provide a rating on whether or not I done good.

Sound fun? I think so!

So, you can send me a submission either via email micaelacrapo@gmail.com or just comment on this blog and I'll see it.

Most of you that read this, I know pretty well. But. If there is some brave soul out there who I haven't met yet, I'll need a clear idea of your personality, likes/dislikes, a picture of you, favorite brands of whatever you're looking for (clothing or housewares or makeup). For everyone, I will of course need a clear idea of what your looking for and how you plan to use it, and a general price range.

I will shop for you for almost anything - furniture, makeup, cleanser, shoes, clothes, etc. Of course, you don't have to actually buy what I find for you - it will just be pics and links to websites that I'll give you. If at least 10 people submit, the winner (who I matched best) will get a FREE MAC LIPSTICK picked out for you, by me. Your secret shopper.

OK this was sort of a wild hair idea, but I think it could be fun.

Happy Submitting! Nighty nightcaps. I'm off to bed with Harry. Potter that is.

Tell me why I don't like Mondays, I wanna shooooooot the whole day down

OK I am going to cry now because I just wrote a really long and delicious blog complete with pictures and links, and then I lost it because I just had to check my Paris Hilton link. Damn Paris!


Anyway, I wanted to sum up my first day of work for you because it was so....I don't even know how to describe it. I'll just give you a list of the day's achievements and you can decide for yourself:

1. Spit large chunk of Cliff bar on new co-worker - excellent first impression
2. Tripped over poorly hemmed pants in front of boss
3. Started period - while sitting at boss's desk
4. Developed at least 147 blisters, all the size of Alaska, preventing me from walking without looking like a hobbled chicken
5. Broke my favorite nail (left hand ring finger. v. sad)

Not quite what I imagined when I thought of what my first day would be like - I had been going for more of a blindingly sparkly first impression - much like Glinda the Good Banker. Alas. Things can only improve no?

Notes on previous blog: I love the Target wardrobe idea, and it would work great if I wasn't shaped like a VERY SHORT BEACH BALL. Only long legged woodland creatures can put on cheap clothes and make them look like Dolce & Gabbana. It takes some seriously good tailoring to make this arse look classy and professional. Really though - Target doesn't have clothese for short squatties. Very few places do I am discovering.

I am also adding two new features to my blog: Favorite Item of the Day (could be anything at all) and Celebrity News Story that made me Chuckle with Glee

Favorite Item(s) of the Day:

Best Magazine ever

Everyone needs a yellow purse, says I!

Celebrity New Story that made me Chuckle with Glee:

WAY too easy.

45 nights in jail for Paris

My mind a vacuum - there is nothing here to sustain life.

My lands. Things must be in sorry state for me to be blogging after such an unnecessary hiatus, and at such an hour. For me, only bad things happen after 11pm, especially when I've taken 2 Ambien this time to try and knock out the beast (i.e. me). The bad things that could happe are either baby waking for who knows why and for how long, or my SUDDEN INSATIABLE DESIRE TO BUY...LAMPSHADES KITCHEN WALL HANGINGS BABY HATS AND A CASE FOR MY IPOD SHUFFLE! It mattereth not, as long as I purchase.

If someone is awake out there, please come and shut off my power if I start wandering over to Ebay. Only death and mayhem awaits at Ebay. Seriously the site is like crack. I logged in yesterday morning to see about some good deals on sensible heels, and not 24 hours later, I literally have in my watch list everything from an anthropologie lampshade, to some used jeans, to 3 more purses I don't need, the list goes on. The only SHOES I have on there I should have are 3.5 inch pink heels by Kate Spade, which although not sensible per se, are OXYGEN.

On to other newsies. So, I have finally been relinqueshed from the hell called Lionbridge and I get to QUIT on Wed!! Hooray for me!! Although I am having to give up the wondrous joy that comes from wearing whatever you want and looking like you just tied one on for a 3 day stint at work...I've decided there are more important things than dressing like Axl Rose at work. Hmmm. Perhaps Axl is a bad example. For one, my lips (or anyone else's that belongs to the human race) are not that large. And I tend to avoid tying really long ugly scarves to my headset (duh - we don't use microphones at work). So who is a better example...hmmm...something like a cross between John Cusack in Say Anything mixed in with some the skater guy in Clueless with a dash of Carrie Bradshaw to even things out. Are you getting a clear image? Bygones. There are better things than getting to dress like this, such as...not being yelled at by mean and cranky old ladies who need to retire, or logging in everything to make for darn sure that those files get out blah blah blah...this is even boring me.

Either way, my whole world is about to shift again and it is back to high heels and pricey purses baby! I'm going back into banking, but this time for US Bank (the horror!!) and in SALES. Da Da Duuuuuuuuuuuuuun. It's not quite as bad as it sounds - mostly just excessive amounts of schmoozing/slobbering/salivating all over our clients. Fun Times! But, it does me free reign to buy nice clothes/shoes/purses/accessories because we certainly don't want me to embarass the bank by having a *gasp* purse from the Fossil outlet. And of course there is the minor detail that I don't fit into any of my old cutey cute banking clothes. The purses you of course don't grow out of, but I sold all those to pay for...something else. I don't remember. Anyway, even my shoes don't fit anymore (Darn you Adeline! I will get you someday for this!).

So what I'd love to hear are the great deals, the new looks, the fab styles you have all encountered. Plus, your opinion on the Kate Spade shoes: Too much?

Or how about this purse - also too much? I pretty much know the answer here.

I think this one looks much more sensible, but perhaps a touch boring?



But this could be loads of fun.




On to what you really want to see..more Addy pictures. Because I know that my child is the focal point of everyone else's universe in addition to mine. These are from Easter and her 1st bday party.

I'll have many more pictures to post later. As soon as I can find the bloody camera.

Dooooon't forget me when I'm gonnnnne; Cause my heart would break. Iiiiiiiii have loved you for so loooooong.

Bloggywood...lalalalalala Hollywood. Did ya'll watch the Oscar's last night? May I say that Mr. Dicaprio has turned himself into a right fine looking man? It only took him 30 years to get through puberty, but hey...boy came through and he looks good. Mr. Al Gore, on the other hand, did not. Ah well.

So I've decided that there must be a secret rule in Hollywood that you cannot hold a SAG card (if you don't know what that is, you are not cool enough to read this blog mom - it's the Screen Actors Guild) unless you are also a registered Democrat lefty liberal. I'm sorry, but "Green Oscars"? Who gives a hootenanny? Apparently George Clooney does, so I'd better hush up because he just might read this and become seriously offended. I should note here that I have been considered by some to be a Democrat lefty liberal (who is going to hell for said status), so I don't as a general rule disagree with all things lefty and green. But I'm still confused about the green Oscars. Did they typically burn down sad little trees who couldn't defend themselves to kick off the show? Or perhaps the toilets were previously made of marble (evil pig aristocrats) instead of recycled fibers that give you butt splinters. Who knows? Only Al, and he ain't tellin.

OK so it is muy late and although I am muy tired and have to haul my sorry butt to work tomorrow, my wee little mind has started spinning like a top, and it would take horse tranquilizers to get me down now. My body actually LAUGHS at me now when I take an Ambien. "HA! You dumb weasle! Do you really think those piddly 10 mgs are going to make a dent in this Berlin Wall of resistance we have created?? Hahahaha! Try a Xanax, I bet that'll help. Woohoohhahahahah!" As you can see, my body and I are not on good terms at present.

This is becoming a bad state of affairs, as my body not only has control of my brain, hence sleeping abilities, but it also seems to have taken control of my will power, fat burning skills, appetite (x1000), and turned me into ONE GIANT pile of flabbiness. It has become hard to distinguish where one pile of flab begins and the other ends. For example, the perky little "muffin top" that some women (I won't name them...) complain about, is dainty and sweet compared to what I now have deemed "The rolling lava flow". It cometh up out of the pants, and it falleth over the pants.

Alas. It is time for some serious intervention. I honestly don't know if I would fit into my pregnancy pants, and if that doesn't just scream like a cry for help, I don't know what else would. So, I leave it to YOU, dear reader. Hit me with your best shot. Your most awesomest fail-safe fat obliterating diet/surgical endeavor or cocktail of weekly body cleansers. I want it all.

My own diet efforts so far have included:

#1 Putting on Spanx. I have decided that attempting to put on a pair of spanx is an aerobic workout all unto itself. This sounds like a great perk (exercise points for weight watchers!), but the downside is that if, by some sublime miracle, you actually DO get them on, and manage to get on over them whatever was too tight to put on in the first place, you have now sweated at least 4 cups of liquid, your hair has gone all spastic and curly because of the humidity your huffing and puffing created. And oh yes - look in the mirror. See that face? See the color of it? Like an overripe tomato? That one doesn't go away for HOURS. So really, you might as well have just gone to the gym instead.

#2 Lying on the couch watching American Idol reruns with a giant tube of cookie dough to knaw from at will. While considerably more fun than diet #1, it seems to be having more of an adverse effect on the rolling lava flow: i.e., it makes it flow further and further is bad.

#3 CDP. I would like to introduce you all to the sheer hilarity and idiocy, of the nightly...CRAPO DANCE PARTY!! I am not kidding. Ammon and I decided on one wild afternoon that we really loathe all forms of exercise, but truly enjoy flailing around in our living room to "Dance Like Nobody's Watching" to quote whatever country starlet penned those immortal words. Oh, and we make DARN SURE nobody is watching. Close the blinds, dim the lights, push the coat rack in front of the entry window (and add more coats to fill any holes is necessary).

Oh seriously, we really do look like break time at the mental institution with the patients that haven't mastered limb coordination from being too heavily drugged. But, it's fun! And we do seem to burn some calories, so I think we may continue this tradition of secret nightly humiliation. Cause I am NOT getting on that treadmill anytime soon.

And to close off the day, I've added a few pics for your perusing pleasure.

Bad daddy! He let me conk out in my high chair!

Hahaha - I win! I have the duck AND the washcloth on my head!

Another example of neglectful parenting...she backed herself under the TV stand and couldn't get out. It was pretty funny though.

And the classic finger up the nose.

And my personal favorite - baby's first ponytail!

Tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999.

Good Morning and Happy New Year! Prince (or Prince the artist who was formerly known as the artist formerly known as Prince) and I are happy to report that we have successfully entered a New Year, that I have a kleenex hanging out of my nose right now, and that I did NOT take an Ambien last night. Hurrah! Demons be gone!

It took me a couple hours to get to sleep, but once I finally did, I slept like a little Cherub. I did, however, have a wicked crazy dream that I was in love with my cousin, who was not actually my cousin but a combination of Paul Walker and an Elder I knew in the MTC, and that my dad went totally nuts because of the alien invasion and started chasing everyone around with a creme brulee torch. I am not making this up. Well, now we know that it was not the Ambien giving me the acid trip dreams. It is just my psyche, which I find even more alarming.

Ooooh Rolo's! I just found a stash of Christmas candy at my desk and I think I will have many Rolo's for breakfast.

On to the business at hand. I am a little late, as it is now Jan 6, but I think I am still within thelegitimate window of resolution making. I've thought long and hard for a good 12 minutes about this, and here is what I have come up with:

New Year's Resolutions:

1) Get off the crack (ambien)

2) Refrain from buying any more Coach purses - 27 is plenty (see picture of new perfect bag below)

3) Try and use your new treadmill at least twice in the new year

4) Do not get pregnant. Do not even consider getting pregnant. Do not let Ammon sleep in the same room.

5) Marry the cleaning lady (see explanation below)

6) Find a cure for ear wax (the most repellant substance in nature)

And I'm spent. That is plenty to do for one year.

Picture of new most perfect bag (by request). *Please note - this picture was pulled off eBay and does not do justice to the glory and wonder that is my new purse. OK, perhaps I am exaggerating a smidge since it is NOT able to julienne zuchini in addition to carrying all my junk. However, it does match everything which is almost as good.

Explanation to #5: I found the most blessed cleaning creature in existence a few weeks ago. I have never seen any establishment as clean as my house was. She didn't just do toilet paper points, she did toilet paper FLOWERS or was it a cactus? I'm not sure; I didn't even know such a possibility existed! Anyway, she is fabulous and SO CHEAP but after sitting down and doing our budget, we thought when faced with a choice between buying groceries and employing a cleaning lady, it was a struggle, but we went with the former. Solution = marry her, and then she can clean my house all the time! Although perhaps I should have Ammon marry her instead. I think she might be an illegal alien, so this would be a bonus for her too! Really, I wouldn't be exploiting her at all!

Addy update: she discovered a new noise this last week - lip smacking. It is very cute. She is trying so hard to crawl! Here are a few recent pics...

I've also included pictures of the dogs who are very embarassed of the outfits mom made them put on, and the ridiculous amount of snow we've had in the last few weeks. It was all great fun until I blithely and naively backed out of my driveway without looking at the 3 foot drift in my way and high centered myself.




HAPPY NEW YEAR! And to all a good night.

i been caught stealing once when i was five i enjoy stealing it's a simple as that

It is Tuesday, Confessional Day, which has is a recent addition to Tuesday - Diarrhea Day, which is still in full force in our house. I think my immune system is getting back at me for buying yet another bag. Oh nuts - I owe you all a picture of said bag. However, said bag and camera are downstairs and considering that I some digestive issues and the lung capacity of a small squirrel, I am not moving. It will have to wait.

So... on to Tuesday Confession day. The other day, I watched the movie Eight Below with Paul Walker in it. It truly is a great and heartwarming story - I cried all the way through it. It would seem, however, that my subconscious, or my "ID" if you will for those Dr. Freud lovers out there was not so interested in the fluffy dogs and their sweet courageness. It was MUCH more interested in Paul Walkers' apparently perfect bone structure and fabulous abs, because I dreampt about them ALL NIGHT!
The main premise of my dream - and I'm only sharing this because I find it totally amusing - was that Paul and I somehow ended up as roommates in college (too cute!), and I of course immediately had a huge crush on him. But my sad little co-ed self esteem was sure he would never even look at me because he is SO HOT! But, one fateful day in the cafeteria, my sweet roomie Paul stuck up for me when the lunch lady said I had missed the deadline for pie (I was very distraught), and he used his suave and charm and got me my pie! True love!!! Later that day as we were both brushing our teeth in our tiny bathroom, we locked eyes, and then kissed with gooey toothpaste mouths. I'll leave the rest to your imagination, but suffice it to say, I will never watch a Paul Walker movie the same again. Heavy sigh.
Anyway, do the rest of you have dreams like this? And then do you feel guilty because your husband was not your nighttime McDreamy? I do!! Especially when I keep reliving that first kiss feeling over and over during the next day. It somehow seems wrong. I asked Ammon if he ever has dreams about other people, ex-girlfriends, etc., and he is always really vague and says that there is never a face and that he hardly ever remembers any of it. I knew it! I am a tramp in my dreams!
So Paul Walker is one thing since I've never met the man *sniff* and never will *sniff sniff*, but what about when you dream about an ex? Is this like your mind wanting to cheat? What's a little alarming to me is that since the PW dream, I have had similar dreams every single night since, but all with an old boyfriend, and mostly the same one. Yeeeeek! Do you ever wonder if your old boyfriends dream about you? My sister keeps in touch with the sister of one of my old boyfriends (was that a long enough connection?). Should I find out? I think not, because there really is no surreptitious way around that. "So, do you ever dream about Micaela?" "No, why would I? Is she so sad still that she dreams about me all the time even though she is happily married and so am I? Pathetic." This is a conversation I prefer to not take place. But darn it I'm curious!!!

I must hear all your stories out there. Be not afraid to post! This is true confessions time! Do you dream about ex boyfriends or just the Paul Walker/Jon Favreau/Zack Braff dreams (those are my most recent celebrity dreams). Tell all!! I must know!!! Really, you will be setting my heart at rest. Unless you are commenting that I am an unfaithful girl who should be punished for her subconscious' nightly escapades through the land of the naughty.

Chestnuuuuuuts roasting on an open fiiiiiiiiiire. Jack Frosssst nipping at your noooooooose.

I have a proposition for all of you. And NO, to those of you with the dirty minds - shame on you! Not THAT kind of proposition.

Due to the extreeeeeemely inflated ego I have developed as a result of all of your kind comments about the sheer hilarity of my life and how much you think I, little old moi should write a book, I have decided, to write a book! Well, that may be overshooting the mark a titch. Maybe we could just call it a jaunty little collection of my thoughts and whims as related to....and here's where you come in.

Realizing that I have no ability to create and actual storyline or any sensical dialogue, I was thinking my "book" could be more "bloggeresque" if you will. Just a sort of collection of my thoughts on as many subjects as I can think of and have the ninnies to write about.

So, I would like your ideas. What subjects would you like to take my critical eye, cynical views and slightly irreverent notions to? Pregnancy can certainly be added to list, although it may make more sense to make that it's OWN "book", although if you like that idea, than I want to know what you think my chapters should be.
Example: Chapter 1 "My thoughts and feelings on...pee inducing vomit". Too much?

The questions then are these:

1) Should I nip this is the bud with my salad tongs, or perservere - on to fame and much glorying?
2) If you think I should nip this in the bud, please turn around, find the cord that connects to your hard drive, and PULL IT OUT OF THE WALL YOU DISLOYAL MEANIE!!! You are forever banned from my blog!
If you suggested that I persevere, please move on to Question 3.
3)What format should the "book" take? A bloogeresque/Bridget Jones'ish diary approach with salacious stories and smoot. Or is that Smut? Aaaah yes. Smoot was someone who had a building name after him at BYU. Anywho.
OR: I could do a bitter diatribe about the ravaging furnaces of hell that are pregnancy.

4) If you like the former bloggeresque (that word looks more and more like booger everytime I type it) mode of writing, I need SUBJECTS. And lots of them. Give me anything! It could be about Diet Coke - Nectar of the Gods, or about Britneys lack of cotton for the nethers. Although I really don't think there is enough to fill a whole chapter on that. There isn't much more to say than "GOOD LAND WOMAN. YOU HAVE TWO CHILDREN. No one wants to see your goodies anymore". Get your naked little bottom over to KMart and by yourself some Jaclyn Smith panties and stop scaring the children - yours and the rest of the world."

Anyway. Thoughts?

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.

Whoooooaaaablleleeeeecccchhhhh. I don't really know how to spell the sound effects of one barfing, but that is peaceful background music of the evening. This week has been a non-stop circus cacapohany of disgusting bodily functions. Wheee!
It started with me on Sunday coughing up whatever sludge had apparently taken up residence in my lungs and of course was accompanied by noseblowing, sneezing, hacking, and many varieties of something that sounded like: "uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh".
Monday was Addy providing me with the most monstruous baby throw ups you have ever seen. She actually threw up so much on me that not only did she cover my whole sweater, half a leg and the floor from wall to wall, but somehow managed to save an extra cup of the chunky stuff for...mommy's cleavage. The funny thing is that I did my darnedest to mop it out, but it was so cold outside that it turned into milky ice chunks in there! NOT A PLEASANT SENSATION!!
The next day was Tuesday, and Tuesday's at our house are..... Diarrhea Day!!! (how in the world do you spell that??) You might be suprised at the force with which a 15 lb baby is able to expel things from that tiny little scphincter. But don't let's it's small size fool you...that little schpincter could blow a Hell's Angel off his hog!!! She seems to really enjoy it too. She gets this almost Dr. Evil'ish laugh going after a good puke or blowout.
Wednesday proved to be Vomit Day round 2, Daddy Style. I have never in my life known someone who throws up as often, or with as much pure force than Ammon. Seriously - he pulled his shoulder this time from wretching so hard - and this is not a first. Poor man. I'm worried that he either going to get hemerroids from straining so hard, or that vein in his neck will just explode! There's got to be a medication for this sort of thing. If this doesn't happen from the barfing, it will surely happen because of the competitive Diarrhea Ammon was also working on on Wed. Whether he was competing with Addy, or his stomach, I don't know. Just let me say, that I was the big loser that day. In many ways.
Thursday is groan day. Groan because you're tired. Groan because your shoulder hurts. Groan because you haven't thrown up but you wish you would. Grown because your XBox isn't working and neither is On Demand. I'll let Ammon know how much sympathy this elicited.

And on to everyone's favorite day of the week...FRIDAY!

In my house, it's Friday-stick-your-finger-down-your-throat day. And no, I am not a bulimic. I seem to have developed a queer medical condition where I can swallow nothing larger that the size of a gnat without violently thrashing around and making strange gurgling noises (Cassy can attest to this) whilst I try to tame the wild beast in my throat. This has gone on my entire life, much to the amusement of all my family who totally ignore me now when it happens, and the friends that happen to witness it for the first time and find my family to be HIGHLY insensitive since no one lifts a finger to help me. It has also allowed many high minded folk (occasionally doctors) that kindly let me know that I AM CRAZY PEOPLE and it's all in my head. Hmmm. I hadn't ever thought of that. Thank you!! Problem solved!!! For those of you out there who may have made these comments at one point. I don't hold it against you. I may tell you that you might want to pluck your toe hair as rebuttal.

Anyway, it's been especially bad this week for 2 reasons: during pregancy, it was grand. I could swallow eighteen Satsuma's in one shot and not even bat an eye (there are some small advantages to having every smooth muscle in your body just poop out and relax for 9 months). But soon after I delivered...zzzzzzzwwwwwppppp. It snapped shut like a mouse trap and I cannot even swallow my happy drug and an ibuprofen together, much less anything larger - like those HORSE CALCIUM PILLS!! How does anyone swallow these? Your espohagus would have to be a 2" diameter plastic pipe hose!
Back to this week. I have also (as noted on Sunday) had a cold which added to a bit of swelling in those regions which has caused even greater troubles. In the last two days, I have choked on: an antidepressant, a piece of bread, bagel, french fries, and lettuce. How does one choke on lettuce? It's mostly water anyway!
This would all be much less problematic if a) they would come straight back up or go all the way down (they like to lodge roughly right in between my boobs for about 30 mins or so, all the while giving me strange gassy pains and gassy sounds and gurgling noises again, or...b) if it didn't happen AT MY DESK~! It happened 4 times in the last 2 days that I have either tried to "choke discreetly" in my trash can (I put quotes in because I think the phrase choke discreetly is an oxymoron), or run maddly to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth while making noises that sound similar to what I think a drowning seal would sound like. sort of a half bark/gurgle.
Anyway, I know they all think I'm bulimic. I'll prove it to them too: "Hey baby, you don't come by this size 14/16 doing nothin! You gotta work at it girl!" You'd have to be pretty dim to think I was a bulimic.

Anywho, that is my blooogering of the night. It is 9:38 and soooo WAY past Mommy's bedtime. I am pathetic.

Aaaaahhh - on a happy note - tomorrow is a MOMENTOUS OCCASION. Hold your breath..........for tomorrow, I have FINALLY FOUND and will receive in my hot little hand......................................................................................................................................



THE PERFECT BAG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I would show you a picture now but that would ruin the surprise. Check baby tomorrow for Mama's Christmas present to herself! Is it in poor taste to actually wrap it and put in under the tree? Perhaps not, but why waste this month when I can be GALIVANTING AROUND TOWN WITH IT like some cool famous person.

Do I love you my oh my? River Deep Mountain High yeah yeah yeah. If I lost you would I cry? Oh how I love you baby, baby, baby, BABY!

I find it really amusing how many concerned emails I have gotten about my "Ambien Addiction". I must also add that I am feeling a teensy defensive, and would like to explain my medical rational behind said addiction:
I NEED DRUGS.
Well...perhaps not, but it truly has gone like this: after not being able to sleep all summer due to excessive stressful events that will remain a mystery too all of you, my doctor put me on Ambien (per my request I should add if I'm being utterly truthful). And I've been taking it ever since for the following reasons:
a) I really am a chronic insomniac and really don't sleep without it
b) It's really really fun
c) I really am a closet drug addict and this is the only legal way I can satiate my need for the ultimate high. However, as I have no other point of reference, Ambien may not actually be the ULTIMATE high, which means I am buggered.

Really though - for all you concerned souls out there, my doctor told me very recently that he doesn't want me to stop taking it until our lives settle down a little more (i.e. never), and that it's not hurting me (minus the general spaciness and loss of intellect).
Do you realize how many times I just said "really"? I must stop.
Also, I write about Ambien a lot because it makes me do VERY strange and amusing things (like buying fat sucker-in-ers at 5am - aaaaah, good times).

OK so enough of my defensive stance. So, on to the question that is burning holes in your hot little minds....what is Micaela up to now, and what has she purchased, eaten, or crashed into lately?
There are of course many fun stories for all of the above, but in consideration of the busy lives of those reading this, let me sum up:
Since I last blogged, I have:
1) crashed our new car
2) seriously considered heaving the dog off the roof as she peed on the new rug for the 28th time. Why she feels like that fluffy white rug is her own personal toilet when she has a whole yard to pee in is beyond my comprehension
3) made the worlds worst ebay purchase ever (see above)
4) hosted 1100 people in my house over one weekend. OK; 7
5) not lost a single pound (yeah me!)
6) bought and forced my daughter to wear not one, but two Halloween costumes (none of which were actually worn on Halloween mind you)
7) had a very intersting conversation with someone in Latvia who was jamming out to Tina Turner in the background
8)consumed so much Diet Coke that I now bleed aspartame

Notes to the above:
1 - I am fine. No, Addy was not in the car. Yes, it was my fault. Yes, I had only had the car for one week. Yes, I crashed the Subaru after I had owned it for a week as well. No, I have not been sent back to Driver's Ed. Yet.

3 - Two words: Dust Rhinos. I saw this lovely rug at Pottery Barn (online only of course - I never buy things I've actually seen in person), and loved it so much, I searched eBay everyday with religious zeal until I found the same one. Thinking I was making a fabulous purchase and getting a great deal to boot, I immediately clicked Buy. My life has not been the same since. Never in my life have I seen one item create so much STUFF without having actually mated one of it's own and procreating. I swear I have already vacuumed up at least 5 complete rugs. How there is one piece of thread left on that floor, I will never understand. I have found what Ammon likes to call Dust Rhinos in every conceivable corner of the house, including, but not limited to: the garage, the neighbors yard, Addy's crib, and my tub. Not only can the rug multiply - it can also FLY.
And to top it all off, Idgie thinks this magical wonder of a rug is the happening venue for her daily potty party. Would anyone like to purchase a rug that magically multiplies and has 3800 "pet stains"? It's from Pottery Barn!

5) Two words: Orange Cupcakes. (or this that three? we must ask Mr. Hostess)

7) No, this was not a new husband I was trying to recruit for my harem from the Eastern Bloc, but someone for WORK. We were talking in a garbled, unintelligible, and pretty hilarious mix of Latvian and English. I think it's called Latvenglish, and the speakers of said language are known to pepperr their conversations with lyrics like "WHHOOOOA WHAT'S LOVE got to do got to with it. WHAT"S LOVE but a seconhand emotion?"

8) No explanation necessary. There was actually some discussion yesterday about the possibility of a Diet Coke fountain. Excellent notion.

As a final update, I must also confess that I have developed an alarming new guilty pleasure: watching The Bachelor. I'm obsessed! Who will Lorenzo pick? Will Sadie give up her virginity? Is there anyone more vuglgar in the world than the chick who keeps wearing crowns and referring to everyone else as commoners? If you understood any of what I was talking about, I feel your pain sister. It's a sickness.