Late to the game? Yes. Do I care? No. Until a few weeks ago, I used TikTok only for book recs. Evidently, there are those that venture to the Tok for half-naked dancing men. There is such a thing, and it's almost as bad as being on the receiving end of the pics we keep… Continue reading Late To The Game Again…
Tag: #beaduchess
My Esophagus Is Better Than Yours…
"You have the esophagus of a much younger woman." Well, there's a thought. Here I am, tormented by wrinkles making daily debuts, and it's my esophagus I should be showing off to the world. How does one get that designation to show on the outside? Seems radiation, the cancer gift that never stops giving, can… Continue reading My Esophagus Is Better Than Yours…
Perhaps You Need More Stevie…
Sometimes you shake your head in disbelief. And praise the stars above you were born before rap. It's the weekly dinner with the chicks. The Goddess hosts at her abode and The Other Norwegian (remember, The Norwegian's cousin?) cooks the fare. The Goddess and Sweetest G are there. So is She Who Shall Not Be… Continue reading Perhaps You Need More Stevie…
Not As Fun As It Used To Be…
Generally, the airport is a fascinating place. A particular morning last week--not so much. Perhaps it was my flight twice delayed. Most likely, it was that on the Today Show, Savannah Guthrie and her supposed fashion cohort pronounced heels and dresses dead for work wear thanks to COVID. Blasphemers make me testy. Scanning the waiting… Continue reading Not As Fun As It Used To Be…
Putty Face…
I bought a primer called "putty." Can you imagine the cosmetics peeps sitting round the table? "Let's call it putty." "You mean like spackle?" "Exactly. I bet it calls all the old ladies to the yard." Have to say--it worked. This woman of a certain age got the message immediately. Putty--like fill in all those… Continue reading Putty Face…
Charles Manson Was A Loser…
Ladies, there's a new murder girl in town. She's been around for a bit. I'm just late to the party. Those of us who cannot look away from the gruesome, the bizarre and the just plain WTF are obsessed. Why? It's the combination. This chick talks murder while she does her makeup. No lie. I… Continue reading Charles Manson Was A Loser…
Blame The Thighs…
Writing suffers in the time of Coronavirus. Unlike Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Love In The Time Of Cholera, I don't become more determined, undeterred by obstacle. I blame my thighs. Thigh growth and spread engulfs all in its path leaving little couch room for even Skittish Tabby. He looks at them, eyebrow raised, "What the… Continue reading Blame The Thighs…
Lazy Takes On A New Level…
I have been known to wrangle the remote with whatever is nearby. My first and second toe have amazing grasping ability. I turn my couch cushions every week to fool visitors into thinking there's not a permanent butt indention. Lazy has never had anything on me. My spirit animal is the sloth. If I could… Continue reading Lazy Takes On A New Level…
Who Put Drugs In My Bag?
Staying in continues. Closets are cleaned. Pantries are organized and desktops appear. I spy something not cleaned--the Kate Spade tote sitting upon the counter. Tackle the makeup bag: Hand sanitizer check. Mascara check. Three lipsticks check, Toothbrush check. Wipe them down with a Clorox wipe. Organize wallet. Check side pockets--more lipsticks, a tube of vaseline… Continue reading Who Put Drugs In My Bag?
Enough Now…
"Enough now." After Mark shows his cards to Juliet on Christmas Eve, he walks away saying, "Enough now." Love Actually fans know. The phrase comes to mind whenever there is wallowing, pity parties of a personal nature or too much reflection on success levels. This morning I slept until 8:43, woke up feeling very alone,… Continue reading Enough Now…
The Duchess Diaries 