Real Men

A real man is a woman's best friend. He will never stand her up and never let her down. He will reassure her when she feels insecure and comfort her after a bad day.

He will inspire her to do things she never thought she could do; to live without fear and forget regret. He will enable her to express her deepest emotions and give in to her most intimate desires. 

He will make sure she always feels as though she's the most beautiful woman in the room and will enable her to be the most confident, sexy, seductive and invincible.
 No wait... sorry...
I'm thinking of wine.
It’s wine that does all that.

Never mind.  

(sent to me as an email...I agree with these sentiments, though I substitute chocolate for the wine)

What NOT to do when your oven bursts in to flames

1. Panic
2. Stop, Drop and Roll
3. Throw baking soda on it (this only stops grease fires, not electrical)
4. Run to your neighbor's for advice (Sorry Mary!)
5. Get out the marshmallows for S'Mores
6. Curl in to the fetal position in the corner of the room and start rocking back an forth

Just thought you might need this advice.  If only someone had written this blog BEFORE my oven caught on fire this weekend!  The heating element caught fire and burned itself right in half.  Luckily I thought to turn the oven off and the flames went out after an hour.  Ok, it was only a couple of minutes, but it felt like an hour.

The good news is it's fixable.  The other good news is you can use your BBQ grill to make Nachos!  And if your BBQ grill has a gas burner on it like mine, you can make blueberry pancakes for dinner on your back porch at 9:30 p.m. Yep, I'm a thinker!

TMI Tuesday

A few weeks ago I had an appointment with a dermatologist.  I originally made the appointment because I found a couple of spots on my chest that I was worried about and wanted to get checked out.  But in truth, the REAL reason I made the appointment is because I harbor a deep dark secret.

Adult Onset Acne.


Yep, old lady zits.

I know!  It's humiliating!  When I was growing up I NEVER had acne.  I mean seriously never.  Once in a while I would have a pimple and I thought the world was coming to an end.  I always felt SO SORRY for the kids that had terrible acne in highschool.  And I silently gloated was thankful that I had perfect skin.

Until I turned 25.

Since then I've struggled with acne.  I've been embarrassed about it for years.  I know it's all relative b/c I have a friend that truly has terrible acne at age 31, but when you've had perfect skin your whole life it's amplified by a zillion times.  And now I'm 37.  I decided it was time to get this under control.  So I made the appointment with Dr. Ross. For the 2 weeks before my appointment I prayed that this Dr. Ross was not going to look like George Clooney.  You know, Dr Ross on ER?

I went to my appointment and was greeted by yet another a male nurse.  Seriously?  Does UT not have ANY FEMALE NURSES any more???  Dr Ross came in and my fears were confirmed. He was H.O.T.  I was instantly mortified because I knew I was about to embarrass the crud out of myself.

First I  had to show him the spots on my chest.  I pulled down my shirt to the top of my bra, and there was a long hair coming out of my bra.  From my head of course, but HELLO!  Seriously???!!!  I said a silent prayer that he wouldn't notice it.  Or that he would think it was perfectly normal for a 12 inch long hair to be peaking out of a fat girl's bra.

Fortunately the spots were nothing to worry about.  He said they were hereditary.  Thanks a lot, Mom!

The next embarrassing moment came when I said I needed some skin tags removed.  Ugh.  I hate that word. Skin tags.  It's so disgusting.  I had a few dozen  on my neck.  And a gazillion couple under my arms.  He put  on his little glasses that should have made him look nerdy but only exaggerated his gorgeousness and got to business.  A little pain and blood later we were good to go.  He gave me some pills and cream for my face and I got out of there relatively unscathed.

That is until a few hours later when one of the removed skin tags under my arm was hurting and I went to look at it in the mirror at work. I got up close to look at it.  And that's when I noticed it.  The patch of hair that extend all the way across my arm pit (I hate that word too).  I had missed it with my razor!  For who knows how long!  It looked like Sasquatch had taken up residence in there.  I quickly checked my other arm pit , and sure enough, Sasquatch's twin brother.  Can we all say HUMILIATION together?

Poor Dr McHotty was probably throwing up in his mouth the whole time he was working on me.

I'm supposed to go back in October.  I wonder if I can afford laser hair removal by then?

Parlais Vous blah blah blah?

My sister called me a few months ago and asked what I thought about hosting a french person for a few weeks at our house.  We talked about it a little and decided to go for it.  Sis' school is starting a french immersion program and this girl will be the new french teacher.  I guess she's not really a girl...She's 28.  But seeing as I turned 82 at Raging Waters on Monday, she seems like a girl to me. 

Anyhoo....Frenchy is arriving this Friday.  (I've been calling her Frenchy for a while now for lack of a better name.  I mean I'm sure she has a better name, but I don't know what it is yet). I am nervous for several reasons.  First off, me no speaky the French-y.  The only line I know is from that song...and it's dirty. So I probably definitely won't say it while she's here.  Secondly, she doesn't like dogs.  You may or may not know this, but we have 3 of them.  And for someone who doesn't like dogs, 3 seems like a thousand. (Heck, for someone who DOES like dogs 3 seems like a thousand at times).  Hopefully we've found a place for Jag aka Mr. Naughty, and Dandie and I will be house/dog sitting for the first week for my friend.  This just leaves Mimi the Wonder Chihuahua at home with my sister and Frenchy.  And even non-dog lovers LOVE Mimi.  She's just a character and loves everyone....as long as YOU are not a dog that is.

My only true interaction with French people are the ones that call or email me to say they want to rent a powerboat for one day at Lake Powell.  They all start their email with "We are French". Um, ok dude.  And one of them stalked me and threatened to sue me, so you can imagine how I feel about them.  And The Real World Paris.  (Remember when CT and Adam got in that fight in the street?  So intense!!)

So suffice it to say that my perception of the French Folk is not that great.  I am hoping this experience will change my mind on the French.  Because seriously, dudes speaking English with a french accident?  H.O.T!

We are trying to think of things to introduce her to American Culture.  Ever been to Utah?  Yeah, not your typical America.  So far we are taking her to the pool, the Farmers Market, Park City to ride the gondola and to eat at one of the best Mexican joints on the planet (Baja Cantina....mmmmm  I can taste the TJ Taxi now!).

And that's all we've got.

Suggestions?

Tuesday's Top Ten

Top 10 signs that you are too fat old  mature to go to Raging Waters water park:

1. You get there right when the open to avoid standing in any lines

2. Every sentence starts with "For $23 per person you'd think they would ... (have cleaner bathrooms, have more free tubes, have fresh hot dog buns, etc...)

3. After eating your $1 hot dog you wonder if it was worth the dollar

4. You get light headed and nauseous after walking up the stairs to the very first (and subsequently) last water slide of the day.

5. The lazy river is too rapid for you.

6. You fall asleep on the lounge chair and start snoring instead of sitting and talking to your friends.

7. You consider purchasing a swim cap so as not to get your hair wet

8. You tell a child that he is being rude and inconsiderate when he almost runs over you with his tube in the wave pool.  And then seethe when he shrugs his shoulders and paddles away.

9. You briefly consider swimming after that same child and holding him under water for 12 seconds, but then decide not to because you really have to get of the pool to go potty.

10. You are so exhausted and sore that night after 5 hours of laying around in the sun all day that you can't mow the lawn.  Or empty the dishwasher. Or carry on a coherent conversation.