Her Royal Highness of Pastry Land

Last night I dug into my decades-old Ziploc bag looking for more baby photos to use on my sidebar. I spent upwards of two hours browsing and scanning what seemed to be millions of old memories from around 25-30 years ago (yikes), and became surprisingly sentimental over the whole deal. Being a young kid in the 1970’s was the best!

Case in Point #1:

Simplicity. Look how happy, albeit hot and sweaty, I am in this picture. Just chillin’ with my Aunt Jemima bandana on a hot summer day while my dad waters the lawn. I wonder how long I spun around on that dorky sit-and-spin. Probably all freaking day long. Would kids these days be content on a plastic spinny-thing all day? I think not. Now, it’s all about the over-stimulating video games or driving a battery-operated mini-Hummer. Crazy, I tell ya. Bring back the sit-and-spin!

Case in Point #2:

McDonalds birthday parties. Oh, how joyous! Eating our cheeseburgers and fries while shooting the shit. Hell yes. Not concerned that some crystal meth freak might snatch us off the playground. And not once did our parents worry about us catching the Avian Flu while jumping around in the colored balls. Good times.

Case in Point #3:

In the 1970’s, you were forced to use your imagination. First of all, check out my thrilling tea party. I don’t remember who that little boy is, but he appears to be having a mighty fine time. Actually, he looks a little constipated and/or scared. Whatever. What a hostess- I particularly enjoy the way my arm is resting on the chair, like I am posing for Town and Country magazine.

Whoorl enjoys a lovely afternoon of tea and crumpets in her fine Oklahoma home.

Ok, that isn’t the reason I posted this photo. I truly believed with all of my heart that a miniature pastry queen lived in the top of my yellow ruffled curtains. Her specialty was blueberry pie, but she also made all sorts of fruit tarts and pastries. When I would have friends over, I would sit them down on the bed and tell them about my pastry queen. Then I would hand them an invisible pastry and promise that if they squeezed their eyes shut really tight, they could taste her amazing pies. Their faces would light up and they would yell out “I taste it! I taste it!” I would just nod, knowing that I was the luckiest girl to have a miniature pastry queen living in my curtains.

Call me bonkers, but I really could taste those pies. They were damn good.

Halloween Weekend

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This was the greatest Halloween weekend to date- no costumes involved. Just five of my very favorite things:

1) My husband
2) My best friend Caroline (aka Coco, Princess Maxima Cocodrie, Miss Carolina-is-so-fina)
3) Sushi
4) Football
5) Presents- and man, were they good!

Saturday evening, Coco came down from LA for a night of martinis, sushi and chatfests. Plus, she brought me an early birthday present which I wasn’t expecting at all. Don’t you love that? It was a gorgeous green vintage necklace and bracelet that I adore with all of my jaded heart. I can’t wait to wear it. So, while catching up over cocktails, my husband announced he had a present for me, too. Except this was an early anniversary present. Excuse me? Who’s karmic ass must I have licked to deserve this?!

By the way, this upcoming weekend is a big one. It’s my birthday AND our first wedding anniversary, or what I like to call the first annual “It’s all about Whoorl” extravaganza. Bring it on.

Anyway, D brought in a big paper package wrapped in pink cord, which I opened to reveal 3 Chiefs/Chargers tickets for Sunday. HOLY SHIT! This was so glorious on so many levels. First of all, the first wedding anniversary is paper- how clever of my man, paper tickets and all. I thought that was so sweet. Secondly, I love the Kansas City Chiefs with all of my heart, considering I went to college in Kansas and lived in KC after I graduated. Thirdly, the Chargers coach is Marty Schottenheimer who used to coach the Chiefs when I lived there. I love him. Fourthly (are you asleep yet?), the Chiefs/Chargers rivalry is a big one and you pretty much have to shell out the cash to get seats. Mind you, our seats were on the 12th row, 30-yard line! I could practically reach out and pinch Priest Holmes’ tight ass. My husband rocks the casbah.

So, in a nutshell, I spent yesterday sandwiched between two of my dearest peeps in perfect 85 degree weather, eating stadium nachos, drinking beers and rooting on my two favorite NFL teams. LIFE IS GOOD.

Catalina Dreamin’

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My sister, the Magnate, D and I made a day trip over to Catalina Island last Saturday. It was such a great time- the weather was surreal, and obviously, the company was fabulous. I had never been to Catalina before, although I see it hovering on the horizon on most clear days. D and I have always wanted to go, but preferred to make it a group activity opposed to just us. Considering we both work from home, we do almost everything together. Which actually is a beautiful thing- it is a tad freakish how much we like to be around each other. “Night and Day” pretty much sums it up. Awwww. Ok, Ok, back to business. The Catalina Flyer leaves the harbor daily at 9:00 and returns around 5:30- with a 1-hour travel time each way that gives you just enough time to hit all the shops, eat tons of food, have a couple of cocktails and head home.

Over the past couple of months, I have heard varying opinions of Catalina. Most of the opinions don’t revolve around Catalina itself, but the actual trip over. “Get ready to hurl,” and “Good luck on the Catalina barfboat,” are some that immediately come to mind. Thinking back to Saturday morning, I can’t believe I wasn’t more nervous about getting on that boat. My sister and I both have experienced green-faced moments while deep-sea fishing in the past. Not so fun. Well, this is where I probably should inform you of our Friday night excursion. Turns out I wasn’t nervous about getting seasick because I was still a tad inebriated from the night before. The good ol’ alcohol-induced false confidence.

It’s safe to say I was over-served Friday night.

First and foremost, NO ONE should ever start his or her night out with the comment “We really shouldn’t get that drunk tonight”. Am I right? That statement IS the kiss of death. The four of us headed over to a friend’s house in Laguna Beach where I proceeded to drink half a bottle of vodka. Purely an estimation, folks. I couldn’t help it! My friend makes the world’s best dirty martinis ever! I only had two! Well, only two, but his martini glasses are ginormous. And therein lies the problem- one of his martinis is probably equal to 2-3 at a restaurant. The last thing I remember saying (to my boss of all people) was, “I can’t believe I just drank 2 huge martinis and don’t feel tipsy at ALL! Will somebody please make me a drink?”

Bits and pieces of the remaining evening:

1) Having an extremely unnecessary conversation about female genitalia.
2) Hitting my forehead on the dashboard of the car as my husband was parking. How I could have propelled myself into the dashboard while traveling less than 3 mph is the great mystery.
3) Getting mad that I hit my head on the dashboard. Yelling profanities at my husband, getting out of the car and kicking all of our Arrowhead empty water bottles around the garage to make it well known that I was pissed about hitting my head on the dashboard.
4) Voraciously eating peanut butter sandwiches while my sister stared at me with utter disgust.
5) Blaring and singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs to musically express my disdain of the throbbing forehead (which I now realize was the reason I entitled my Friday night entry “jumped into a river.” I must have been listening to Pyramid while typing.)

I could go on for days, but considering you now think I am a raging alcoholic, I will keep any shred of dignity I have left. But you want to know the worst part? While rehashing the previous night’s activities, all three of my partners-in-crime remarked that they were glad they didn’t get drunk. WHAAAAT? I am such a lightweight.

Catalina Dreamin’ Part Due coming up!

Weighing the Pros and Cons

Excellent things about the Internet:

1) Shopping. J. Crew, Sephora, Gap, Nordstrom, etc. Mind you, I have all of these stores within a ten-mile radius of my house but going there would mean dealing with those slow, weaving mall-browsers that cut down on my efficiency. Are you people drunk? Get the hell out of my way! No time for lollygagging. When it comes to the mall, Get In and Get Out. That’s my mantra. Plus, going to the mall means getting off my lazy ass and really, who wants that?

2) eBay. I love eBay. Just call me Queen of Swoop. All of those poor, unsuspecting eBayers bidding on an item, thinking they will win, when BAM! 23 seconds to go, swoop in, put in my bid, and I win AGAIN. I have never been successfully swooped upon and I am damn proud. And really, what’s with all of the people who start bidding a day in advance? Do they not realize they are just unnecessarily driving the price of the item up? Hate. Haaaaaate. Hate.

3) Live customer support. This means not having to talk on the phone. Glorious. I don’t like talking on the phone- please don’t ever call me. Don’t get me wrong, I like you! But my Get in, Get out mantra also applies to phone calls. Can’t we just email each other? I never answer my phone unless it’s my husband, and I average a 5-7 day delay on returning personal phone calls unless it’s family. Luckily, my peeps know just how much deeply-rooted strength I must muster to dial the digits and they’re sympathetic to the issue. Oh, and Liz, your 5-7 day period is this Thursday through Saturday…be on the lookout. ;)

4) Makeupalley.com. 5,900,000,000 product reviews at your fingertips. I have a thing for makeup*, lip gloss especially, and when I feel a haul coming on, I just read all the informative reviews of a product to help make my decision.

Not that anyone gives a rat’s ass, but here are my fave lip glosses right now.

gloss.jpg

While we’re at it- presenting the best blush ever. Tried and true. Scary in the compact, perfection on the cheeks.

*I love makeup, but generally look like a Russian whore if I wear more than mascara, blush and lip gloss.

Moving along…

5) All of this online purchasing means lots and lots of packages! Delivered to my doorstep! All the time! My UPS man commented, “It’s like Christmas everyday at this house.” Damn straight. Ok, Ok. So I might have a little addiction to receiving packages in the mail. At least it’s not crystal meth.

6) My favorite blogs listed in my sidebar. Making new cool-as-hell friends from blogging.

7) Online Bill Pay. Access to all of my accounts.

8) Pink Is The New Blog.

9) This Site. Ya know, just in case.

Not-So-Excellent Things about the Internet:

1) The wealth of information about very very bad things that can happen to you from one seemingly harmless symptom. Like, I don’t know, when your husband has a muscle twitch in his arm for two days straight and you have completely convinced yourself he has Lou Gehrig’s Disease or a Pulmonary Embolism in the works. Thank you, Internet.

2) The amount of time I spend reading blogs. I’m beginning to think I have a problem. No, I know I have a problem. Is it really neccesary to check my favorite blogs 10 times a day? Is there a Bloggers Anonymous? Should I start one?

3) Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

4) My increasingly believable rationalization that writing an entry (or taking photos of my makeup, for God’s sake) for my blog is more important than doing my job. Like this shit is paying my bills or something.

5) The decline of face-to-face contact in our daily lives. For instance, ordering items online instead of buying the items at the mom-and-pop store across the street. (Who I am kidding? I love this, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for me.)

6) All in all, I guess I’m just like Troy in Reality Bites. As Lelaina so eloquently put it, “You are a master at the art of time suckage”.