a few weeks back i bought a can of skintimate shave gel, upon which a little picture said “try the new schick hydro silk!” but i didn’t need a razor yet, and it’s a friggin $14 piece of plastic with blades, so i put it off. but then there was a coupon for $5 off in the paper, so i thought, okay… i’ll give it a whirl. i bring it home, release it from its plastic prison and put it in the shower. i was disappointed that it didn’t have a blade cover. that seems pretty standard on even the cheapest of razors (this will become oh, so relevant shortly). next morning, he takes his shower & leaves for work. i take my shower, ready to try my new schick hydro silk.

those white dots? death fluid.

i thought i’d start small, at the armpits. raise my arm, apply razor to skin, gently pull down and… not a single hair is affected. why? what with a brand-new, five flexing blade wonder razor that promises silky-smooth skin? i’ll tell you. see those little, flat-looking white dots above & below the blades? it’s supposed to be some sort of wonder moisturizer. but it seems that the water and the steam from his shower caused those little dots to swell up like water balloons, and what i got was an armpit full of heavy, thick, slimy ooze. like a little kid’s booger-snot, when they have a cold. like that rubber band-ish glue they stick your credit cards to the paper with when they mail them. it was really gross. it reminded me of… well, anyway, it was gross. plus, that whole area is ever so slightly raised above the surface of the blades – don’t know if you can tell that from their picture, but the blades are sort of recessed down in there.

so i finally adapt to the slime enough that i figure out I need to really press the razor down against my skin to get it to actually shave. which resulted in the very first nick of my armpit ever. as in, in my entire lifetime. ever. but i chalked it up to too much steam and planned on making a second attempt the next day on my legs.

now, as a woman, i think it’s pretty much standard operating procedure to assume you know when i say “shave my legs” i mean more than that. but for the sake of not getting too gawd-awful intimate here, let’s just go with legs, hmmm? mmm-kay.

so the next day i get all warmed up and ready to go in the shower with my shave cream and my nifty new schick hydro silk razor planning to shave my legs. i go in for the first stroke, being careful to apply not too much, but not too little, pressure. i’m already feeling like i’m having to way-overthink this whole process. swipe goes the razor – not a single hair affected. again. i try it again – nothing. this is getting ridiculous. it’s a brand new, fourteen dollar wonder razor. that doesn’t fucking work. because it’s once again completely surrounded by this nasty, sticky, goopy, slimy crap that expands off the razor’s edge, since it gets all hot and steamy in the shower without a cover to protect it. so i once again find myself having to press really hard against my skin, which inevitably results in several shaved hairs, several missed hairs, and several hair follicles/skin pores having their tops cut off, leaving me bleeding from hundreds of individual little red bumps.

seriously, people. i’ve seen plucked chickens look smoother than i did when i got done.

why did i go on with it, you ask? when it clearly wasn’t doing well? well, if you’re a guy, you’ll probably never understand. but if you’re a girl, think about it. once you start shaving, it never works out well if you stop at some point and resume later. not that this was going well… but you catch my drift, right? and anyway, i tried to strip that goopy crap off of the razor, but it’s really hard to drag your fingertip or fingernail even horizontally across a razor without running the risk of slicing yourself open. and vertically is even more risky. i even hopped out of the shower, grabbed some tweezers and tried to pull them off one by one, to little or no avail. so i did what i had to do to ensure i wasn’t going to bleed out in the shower – or at the very least, not run out of hot water while i screwed around with this piece of crap razor – and gave up. which brings us to two days, two showers, still not fully shaved. this is not the way to make me happy after spending $9 on what was marketed to be quite possibly the last razor i would ever need. because now that i’ve used one of the heads, and destroyed it, and lost the receipt anyway, there’s no returning it. nine bucks down the drain… along with about a half-pint of my blood.

that day, i figured since i was going to be wasting my time anyway, i may as well make yet another trip to target and get me a razor that was worth a damn. i dropped just five bucks ($5!!) on a three-pack (3!!!!) of  bic soleil bella four-blade razors. a few days later (since i needed time to heal. seriously, you should have seen the tiny little minefield of scabs. just nasty.) i’m back in the shower all lathered up with the shave cream. i take the blade cover off of my first bic soleil bella four-blade razor, take one swipe and – tada! – sexy smooth skin. oh…yeah, baby. i can literally feel it catching the individual hairs and cutting them off, the slight drag of the razor as it glides across my skin affirms that it’s not missing a single one. around the curves, over the knees, everywhere – perfectly smooth skin. and you know what? it’s still smooth two days later. not a single nick. not a single cut. not one hair follicle cut off and bleeding and/or scabbed over.

so the bottom line here, ladies? go with what you know. flick a bic. but do not – under any circumstances – for any reason – be tempted to shave with a schick hydro silk razor. you may regret it for the rest of the day. or week. or lifetime, depending on the damage done.

someday the time will come when we’re ready to sell our house. when we’re ready to sell his house.

when we’re ready to move. anyway.

when that time comes, i imagine i’m going to have one or both of a couple of awkward conversations. because one of our clients is also a really good friend of ours, who also happens to be one of the premier realtors in the woodlands. and for pretty well as long as he’s been our client, he’s known he was going to get to sell our house for us/buy a new place.

but then, this happened.

conversation #1

realtor-friend-and-client: “so, you’re ready to sell, let me bring over the paperwork and we’ll get started.”

me: “yeah, about that…”

realtor-friend-and-client: “what? what’s the matter?”

me: “it’s just that, we’ve decided to go with someone else.”

realtor-friend-and-client: “excuse me? who? why?”

me: “courtney buie. she did something really nice for me a while back, and…”

r-f-a-c: “what? what could she possibly have done? she doesn’t even work for the same real estate company i do!”

me: “right. yeah, i know. it’s just – well, she promoted my blog, and i got a lot of traffic from it, which is cool…”

r-f-a-c: “blog? what blog?? i can promote your blog!”

me: “well, actually….”

at which point, i run out of actual, usable words i can use to formulate my argument, because, after all, no one knows this is me.

coversation #2

courtney: “hello? courtney buie, awesome realtor chick, how can i help you?”

me: “yeah, hi! (giggle) i’d like for you to list my house, i mean, his house, i mean (*snort*) we’re ready to move, and we wanna sell. (giggle) and buy. ah ha ha ha. ehm…”

courtney: “…oooookay. ehm, are you alright?”

me: “great! yeah, i’m good, thanks. i’m just a really big fan.”

courtney: “oh! well, thanks. so, how’d you hear about me?”

me: “oh, well, we follow each other on twitter, and….”

courtney: “and? …. hello?”

*awkward silence*

courtney: “hello??”

at which point, i run out of actual, usable words i can use to formulate my response, because, after all, no one knows this is me.

*sigh*

but, still. thank you, courtney! you’re awesome.

no infringement intended

maybe i should eat a smartphone.

there are many theories involved in the thinking behind what the government should and should not have to pay for. some people want the government to pay for next to nothing – after all, those are taxpayer dollars. others want the government to pay for nearly everything – after all, that’s what they’re there for. and many people fall somewhere in between, which leaves a lot of room for debate. debate that divides between party lines, lobby support, imagination and reality.

and then there are some undeniable facts that no one in their right mind could argue which should be taken into consideration when it comes to whether or not the government should pay for things. facts such as:

this is based on a national average taken from a study completed in 2009 by the usda … and just about everyone that has ever raised a child, period.

this is based on a quick look around the prophylactic section at walmart.

now i get that i’m over-simplifying the issue here. but that’s the whole point. maybe small-minded people like governor perry and his supporters (and the gop in general) need things over-simplified in order to wrap their tiny minds around them.

because i’m a taxpayer. and i don’t want my tax dollars being used in ways that i don’t agree with any more than any other taxpayer does. but think about it for just a minute here: even if i’m off by half of the cost of raising a child, and even if only a quarter of that is the part that tax-dollar-supported programs have to subsidize to raise a kid these days, that’s still $35,756.25 of my (and yours, and everyone’s) tax dollars needed to take care of one child that was unplanned. and even if i’m off by twenty times the cost of birth control, because, yes, i understand that other methods (such as the pill) do cost more, and even if the part that tax-dollar-supported programs have to subsidize birth control in programs for low-income and disadvantaged women is 100% of that cost, that’s still only $40 of my (and yours, and everyone’s) tax dollars needed to help prevent potentially multitudes of unwanted pregnancies… and in many cases also help prevent the spread of a whole host of sexually transmitted diseases. but let’s just focus on this being solely about birth control.

i don’t know about you, but i’m pretty sure it’s costing me less to let federal and state tax dollars subsidize health care clinics like planned parenthood.

the truly amazing thing about why this argument is so senseless to begin with, is because it didn’t even get started because elected government officials (such as rick perry) are waging a war on women by drastically reducing the amount of tax dollars used to subsidize birth control (while at the same time, telling us that it’s not them doing it, it’s the other guy). no, what started it was the white house’s mandate that all employers provide birth control as part of their insurance plans, and that private insurers not exclude birth control in their prescription medicine coverage.

so, yeah.

for those of you not in the know, the texas education agency has replaced the state assessment tests of the past dozen years (the taks) with a new test beginning this year (staar). apparently, two of the major changes that are “giving school officials fits,” according to owen conflenti, is that the new tests are 1) harder and 2) longer, requiring more written answers and fewer multiple choice questions.

addressing these concerns individually, to the first (a tougher test) i have to say – why is this a problem? if the tests were easier, more kids would pass them, right? but then, if more kids pass the tests solely because it’s easier, not necessarily because they’ve learned more, what would the tests prove? not much. well, except that it’s easier to get an “education” in the state of texas. but if that’s what we’re doing, we’re ill-equipping those kids to function well in the rest of the country, ne, the world, aren’t we? and sadly, that’s not far from the truth. the state of texas comes in dead last in education nationwide, in a nation that comes in 14th of the 34 countries ranked by the organization for economic cooperation and development (oecd). not even the top 10 anymore. way to go, america.

the second concern was that the test is longer and requiring constructive thinking in order to give written answers, not just getting to select from multiple choices. to which i say – why is this a problem? out here in the real world, how often do we deal with multiple choice questions? maybe when we’re choosing our meal at the counter in chick-fil-a, or deciding if our car really needs premium fuel at the gas pump. 2%, 1%, skim or soy milk? but those aren’t exactly the tough questions, are they? no real wrong answers, are there? conversely, how often do we need to creatively solve a problem, using constructive thinking, utilizing cause and effect scenarios? all the time. life isn’t about picking the right answer out of four possibilities - life is about coming up with the right answer or facing the consequences.

but what really grabbed my attention in the story was a statement made by natalie martinez, director of accountability and assessment at the alief independent school district. ”what is passing? we don’t know what passing is right now,” said martinez.” so, without that, we have to push our kids even harder, not knowing what our goal is really for every kid.”

wait, what? when did simply “passing” become the goal? more importantly, why is “passing” the goal? shouldn’t acing the test be the goal? shouldn’t we be pushing our kids harder – teaching them to excel at everything they do? why teach them that all they have to do is simply pass? why only equip them with the bare minimum? if you don’t instill in their young minds that they need to perform their absolute best at everything they do, and instead reward them for accomplishing the minimum required, what is your net result? an adult that goes out into the world, wondering why she can’t seem to get ahead doing the bare minimum. an adult that becomes bitter and disillusioned when passed over time and again for a promotion because the guy that worked harder got it. yes, yes, you can get by coasting on only what is required. there are plenty of average people in the world that are perfectly happy with where they are. but those that work harder, that push further, that apply themselves more – they are the ones that get rewarded.

moreover, if educators are going to pat themselves on the back when all they’ve accomplished was getting kids to pass the test and no more – what happens when those kids that can’t reach even that level fall behind? by definition, they become less than average. everything is that much harder for them. they drop out of school. they go out into the world equipped only to take low-wage, minimum-skill jobs. and now we’ve come full-circle, haven’t we? now we see how we’re not the smartest state – or the smartest country. we’re not teaching our kids how to think for themselves. we’re teaching our kids how to pass a test.

the education system in texas – in america – needs to understand this fundamental flaw in their methodology. you can’t simply teach kids to pass the test. you have to teach kids the skills they need to compete in the real world. this is what those countries in the top 10 are doing. they’re not sitting back, congratulating themselves for producing average adults. they’re pushing their kids, and themselves, to produce smarter, well-rounded, skilled adults. and when you break that down to the classroom level – what you get is this: the kids that do really, really well, they’re going to achieve high-marks on those tests. but even those kids that don’t do as well, they’re still striving for that higher bar. and when they fall behind from the higher bar, they’re still going to be leaps and bounds ahead of the pack – instead of running with it, or worse, cleaning up after it.

if i wanted to make taco salad with tortilla chips, i’d've bought tortilla chips. but what i wanted to make was tacos. and so i bought your whole grain taco shells (again) and was disappointed (again) to discover that despite your “freshness tray to cushion and protect them,” i had apparently purchased a box of tortilla chips.

this is the third time in as many months this has happened to me. and it’s not me – it’s you. because i bag my own groceries, so i treat these like a friggin’ faberge egg, never bagging them with anything more dangerous than perhaps a bag of – you know – tortilla chips. so, fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me. fool me three times (damn those coupons!) and this is what you get. an open letter of ranting and railing against your lousy fucking packaging. i don’t have this problem with old el paso‘s taco shells – and they’re only wrapped in plastic in the box!

so i’m breaking up with you, the same way you’ve broken up with me, time and time again. only this time i won’t be back. no amount of coupons will entice me. sure, i’m sad i’m going to miss out on your whole grains versus their plain ‘ol corn. but it simply is no comparison when it comes to consistency. they’re always there for me. you’re not.

goodbye, ortega.

i needn’t worry about the hook-up, there are some seriously skanky looking older dudes cruising for cougars in that place.

11.3 ounces of mountain valley spring water

anyway, as i said, this wasn’t my choice – i once met the owner of martini’s ‘n more, ervin west, at mixer across town. he’s an ass. left a bad taste for his establishment with me, so i was only there since she was there before me. when she came around to our table next to the johns (seriously, the table is directly in front of the entrance to the bathrooms), the bartender chick took my friends’ empties, offered her another and asked me what i wanted. since i was going to be the designated driver, i told her i’d just have some ice water with lemon, thanks. she came back a few minutes later, my friend’s drink and this on a tray:

y’all might not realize it, but this smaller than a can of coke bottle of water – which one can purchase at heb for a buck, or a gas station for a buck fifty, set me back four dollars. and that was before i tipped her. lemme back up. i asked for ice water with lemon. she brought me this bottle. she hands it to me, i open it, she says, “are you gonna start a tab or pay now?” i go… “excuse me?”  she says again, “do you want to start a tab, or cash out?” and i’m looking at her looking at me like i just got off the short bus so i ask, “how much is it?” she tells me it’s $4. now i find i’m repeating myself, “excuse me?”

now it’s not as if neither of us were drinking; my friend had a sizable tab that night. upwards of $45. but i couldn’t get over the fact that this bitch just let me open a bottle of water before telling me for the same $4 i could have had a beer. not that i drink that shit. but anyway, yeah. $4 for a bottle of water. for which i paid $5. because you gotta tip your waitress.

some ace sitting at the table next to us overheard this exchange. after the bartender chick went back to tending bar, he leans over, shakes his water glass with a lemon wedge at me and says, “you shoulda asked for a glass of water. i did. mine was free.”

bling h2o - water served in gold

what the what?

call me crazy, but i’m a little offended that that bitch assumed i wanted a $5 bottle of water. and a tiny bottle at that. i tell you what – the next time someone tries to sell me water for friggin’ five bucks, it better look like this:

that, my friends, is bling h2o. and yes, it’s served in a gold-plated bottle.

i thought of this strip this morning as i was making breakfast. i decided on oatmeal-cranberry-white-chocolate-chip scones. i love scones. they’re just healthy enough that i don’t feel bad eating them but just sweet enough you feel like you’re eating dessert for breakfast. scones.

scones, scones, scones.

point is, the word smock to me is a lot like the word scone (see what i did there).

thankfully, my oatmeal-cranberry-white-chocolate-chip scones came out pretty good today. as they should. i could make them in my sleep. which is also good, considering i’m invariably making them before my first cup of coffee. so anyway, here there are:

aren't they bee-you-tee-full?

(note my cuppa joe there to the right)

they’re incredibly simple to make. would you like to know how? thought you’d never ask. since i really only slightly modified an old better homes & gardens recipe (as opposed to, say, my damn-good chocolate chip cookies) it’s not really a secret. i’m feeling generous. here’s the recipe:

oatmeal-cranberry-white-chocolate-chip scones (or, ocwcc scones, for short)

1 cup a/p flour
3 tablespoons packed brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/3 cup unsalted butter, chilled
1 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup dried cranberries, and
1/4 cup white chocolate chips, coarsely chopped
1/4 cup skim milk
1 egg, beaten or 1/4 cup egg substitute

milk + pure vanilla extract

pre-heat oven to 400°f. line a cookie sheet with parchment. in a medium mixing bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, baking powder and cinnamon. using a pastry cutter (or a couple of forks, or knives – whatever) cut in the butter until mixture resembles course crumbs. stir in the rolled oats, cranberries and white chocolate chips (to save time and dishes, i usually chop the dried cranberries and chocolate chips together in a mini-food processor). combine the 1/4 cup milk and egg, then mix into the dry mixture (dough will be sticky).

on prepared cookie sheet, sprinkle a little flour; dump dough onto parchment, sprinkle some flour on top, then pat down into a 7 – 8″ circle. cut the circle into 12 segments (or less, if you want the scones to be larger). in your measuring cup (since its already used anyway – save dishes!) mix an ounce or two of milk with a splash of pure vanilla extract. brush this mixture over the scones. separate the scones by a few inches across the cookie sheet. pop them in the oven for 11 – 13 minutes.

this is generally just enough time to clean up your mess and brew your joe (or tea, i suppose). the scones don’t really brown much beyond the edges; so don’t be tempted to over-bake them; if you do, they get very dry and very tough.

if you’re not big on cranberries (wha?) or white chocolate (wow!), you can easily make these with just about any sort of mix-in, provided it totals a half cup; raisins, walnuts, chocolate chips, etc. i don’t know how crazy i’d get with the mix-ins, they may alter the consistency of the scones.

you don’t have to be english to love scones. and you don’t have to be a baker to make scones, either.

enjoy your scones!

but in this month’s edition, there was an article that had me crying from laughter. i don’t know destiny herndon de la rosa, but i’d love to meet her for drinks. check this out:

some people fear dying on the toilet, others on the stair stepper at the gym. but i have them all beat.

if you are a woman who has ever put on spanx in the privacy of her 3,000+ degree closet, when suddenly you hear, “mommy … mommy … MOOOOOOOMMY!” you know exactly what moment i’m talking about. “DON’T OPEN THE DOOR! DO. NOT. OPEN. THAT. DOOR!”

a bit of product history: spanx are made from a poly-carbonate product created by nasa that has been molded into the size of a double zero woman. the goal is to body-snatch that woman, disregarding all laws of gravity and mass re-distribution in the process. there is an art to this though.

i recommend some light stretching for starters, as attempting to strap one on can get a bit strenuous at certain points (around the thighs, specifically). and by stretching, i mean both you and your garment. don’t be shy: really give those satan-fibers a tug.

once you’ve worked up a starter sweat, go ahead and slide your feet in. now you may be thinking, “oh, this doesn’t seem so bad—just like regular panty hose.” save that confidence; you’re going to need it here in a second.

once you’ve made it past your knees, take a sip of wine and try to conjure up every mental image you have of olympic heavy-lifters. you know that move where they go from straining to throwing the weights up over their heads really fast? you must mimic that exact move. if you try to slowly jimmy “the new you” onto your body, your muscles will atrophy and you will be praying for the sweet release of death when you see the look of horror on the emts faces as they attempt to cut you out of that full-body blood pressure cuff.

which reminds me: at this point you may want to cover up any full-length mirrors. some women find it emotionally distressing to see themselves as a human soft serve ice cream cone. (a side note: my daughter always walks in right at the soft serve step)

ok, so you’ve done the olympic hoist, pat yourself on the back—if your shoulders are still in their sockets.

now this next maneuver is very small, but mighty. You are tediously going to pinch that devil cloth up inch by inch. repeating until you reach your rib cage.

this is the point when i usually realize i should have taken more advantage of the aforementioned shin lag, because now it will be like turning the Titanic to re-adjust. if the spanx make it only halfway up to your abdomen, you may think you’re in pretty good shape, but you’re fooling yourself, sister! don’t bother getting dressed yet, because every bit of excess fat you just shoved up your torso has now become the ultimate atomic blast-shaped muffin top. you’ll be lucky if your arms can rest at your sides comfortably over that inner tube.

it won’t be easy, but here’s what you have to do. take another sip of wine while you’re still upright. wipe away the sweat. take a deep breath, hold it … and bend back over. grab every bit of excess spandex you can and, if you’re wearing the ones with feet, don’t stop until you have toe wedgies! at some point, probably around the thighs, it is pertinent that you not lose your grip or you will never regain it.

so, you’ve finally shimmied them all the way up. if you’re feeling a bit light headed that’s ok—remember you’ve been drinking a lot. and if you have any excess spanxage left, my advice is to go with the trusty old fold-over. with any luck the polymers might actually weld together from all that sweat and you’ll end up with extra-extra-extra reinforced back fat protection. or who knows? you might just end up with: ‘extra-extra-extra! read all about the chubby lady who was found half-naked, sweaty and drunk on her closet floor!’

spanx are a great product. i owe my fake-figured life to them … and hopefully i’ll never attribute them to my death. on that note, i leave you with this sweet little prayer that i honestly think should be inscribed on every package:

“as i lay me down to squoosh, i pray the lord would shrink my toosh. if i should die before i fit, i pray the lord … would just go ahead and let the earth spin off into the sun, because I swear if anyone ever found me halfway digested by this spandex cobra, mass hysteria would overtake the planet anyway.”

you’re crying too, now, aren’t you?

note: not reprinted by permission, merely with unending admiration – and let me just say again for the record that the above is not my work, nor am i claiming credit for it. also, since i’ve now discovered she apparently wrote the article back before august, 2010 (cause i do my research, tyvm) i kind of wonder if she knows that it appeared in this month’s living mag, seeing as how i don’t see them giving her credit for it? just sayin’.

edit 01/10/12 – turns out i do have her permission to post the article; (as did living mag) – see her comment below:

but really, you only know something about me that i used to do. cause i am fed up. and i know i’m not the only one. anyway, here it is. here’s my reason for boycotting quilted northern. because the grocery shrink ray has struck what used to be my favourite brand not once, not twice, but three times in recent history.

most recently, i discovered while restocking the cabinet that not only had the tube the tissue is rolled on got larger, but that the amount of tissue rolled around the tube got more loosely rolled and is shorter than ever. check this out:

old tube: 1 1/4", new tube: 1 15/16"

seriously, the new tube has grown almost 3/4 of an inch! and then, the amount of tissue around each roll:

it's hard to see it, but that's the new roll on top

alright, measuring from the outside edge of the tube, to the outside edge of the roll, the old one was 1 5/8,” the new one is a lousy 1 7/16″ – i know, i know, it doesn’t seem like a lot, 3/16″ difference, but again, multiplied over the number of rolls per package, you can see where i have a legitimate complaint, right? especially since i’m paying the same amount of money?

well, not anymore. i’m switching brands. not that i’m telling you which brand i’m switching to.

that would be too personal.