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My dirty little secret

Why is this hard for me to admit? I have a secret. And it’s literally a dirty one. And I’m not saying ‘literally’ incorrectly in this case. Like, it’s legit dirty. I’m a sucky ass housekeeper. I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I am so not okay.

my dirty little secret by frugalista blog

Here’s another thing that’s hard to admit. We hired a housekeeper. This is a twofold emotion. 1) I feel amazing euphoria about the idea of someone cleaning for me and then coming home to what looks  like magic elves worked and made my house sparkle. 2) I feel enormous failure at doing what I’m supposed to be doing as “homemaker” and I feel terribly self conscious about my filth.

Apparently I don’t feel awful enough about reason #2 for it to make me forget reason #1 and just do the work myself.

You see, I thought I could handle it. I can’t. The cleaning part, I mean. I dust sometimes. I clean bathrooms, sure. And I’ve been known to clean my shower naked (settle down), but scrubbing baseboards, wiping door knobs and cleaning under the stove? Those are all foreign to me.

How am I supposed to feel when poor Marta (names have been changed to protect identities) picks up my electric stove burners and there’s crusted, charred food remains? I was walking by her to get a glass of water just as she did that. I gasped. I told her I was sorry and didn’t know that those things could come out. Well, truth is, I did know, but I think something happened that caused me to have amnesia about it, because I haven’t done that in well over a year and never in that year even thought to.

This is after she’s taken over 2 hours to clean what I thought was the ‘clean’ part of my house. The living room where no one goes in that just has our Christmas decorations. I figure, what’s a little bit of dusting and vacuuming? She cleaned the blinds, the light fixtures, polished the piano… it exhausts me just typing this. I never saw her stop and check her Instagram or sit on the couch with a donut and coffee.

Which face it- is what is primarily my house cleaning problem. I’m like a two year old and I get easily distract… OH look, something shiny!

See?

Or Doug in the movie Up, I just can’t seem to….SQUIRREL!

I haven’t been diagnosed with adult onset ADD but there’s a slight possibility I range on that spectrum.

I’m pretty sure Marta passed her non ADD quiz with flying colors because I left for the store and 30 minutes later she was still scrubbing that stove. She doesn’t get distracted but continues with a job until it’s done. Even this blog post took me several hours to write because I kept getting interrupted. With my mind.

Apparently she does take water breaks. I offered her some because I didn’t want to look like a complete asshole while I sat on the couch with my laptop, and she said she brought a water bottle she drinks from. Well, THAT makes me feel SOOO much better. Considering while she worked, I sat on my couch, drank a Starbucks chestnut praline latte, ate a piece of ginger bread loaf and then later for lunch had a burrito. I am the worst white mom cliche of the burbs if there ever was one.

In my sheer mortification over the messy state of my house, when I thought it was clean mind you, I went upstairs to start cleaning my bathroom before she got to it. I had picked up all the junk and bottles and lotion and shit, around the bathtub and the counter, but I was feeling terrible. Now this probably is not even a dent to the clean that was to become of my bathroom. And yes, I know you’re thinking, “so you paid someone to come clean, but you cleaned first?” Yes. Yes I did. Now maybe in two weeks when she comes again, I will not pre clean, but just let her go to it and it will be done lickity split because it won’t have 10 years of crud stuck to it.

When she was finished, things sparkled. Blindingly. I couldn’t even see my shower doors and almost walked through them.

Who are these magic cleaning people? Are they even human?

Now I understand when I go to someone’s house and I see how spotless their home is. They must have magic superhuman cleaning people.

My dusting and scrubbing is sub par to Marta’s. Which begs the question, “What do I do all day?!”

If she was paid in how many times I apologized or told her to just ‘give up’ on a particular area already and move on, she would be dripping in Ben Franklins.

But the beauty in all this, is not just to cast a light on my horrible housekeeping that would make Ma Ingalls shudder in dismay, but to motivate myself to be better. I want to be tidier. I want to keep things clean. My kids do too. We’re just lazy about it. Now we’ve got a great start and motivation to see things how they should be, and to maintain instead have to completely overhaul.

Oh, and just for the record, I’m never cooking in that kitchen again. It’s too clean to mess up.  I can see myself in the reflection of the appliances. Amazing! And I can’t bear to sit on the couch because there’s vacuum track marks along the upholstery. Have you seen such a site?

 

Say what? The world’s chocolate supply might run out by 2020. A call to arms.

At first Emma told me casually like it was the weather report, “Hey mom, did you know that the world is running out of chocolate.” She could have easily been saying, “did you know it’s going to be 50 degrees out with partial clouds” based on the tone of her voice. As if, life can go on casually.

Trust me, I kept my cool in front of her. I didn’t panic. I barely registered in my head what she had just said. Probably because I was checking Pinterest and Instagram at the same time while waiting for the oven to heat up for my batch of brownies.

But like a good mother, I didn’t convey my panic. It wasn’t until the kids went to bed and I googled that shit for myself. What in heaven’s name is she talking about? That sounds as ludicrous as when she told me Iggy Azalea was just a white girl from Australia.

So yes. It’s true. Scientists think we can run out of cocoa beans by 2020. Folks- that’s only in 5 years. Leading manufacturers of chocolate, Mars Inc. and Barry Callebaut say that over consumption and problems in farming have reduced us to this crisis. Apparently the westernization of China has caused them to eat more chocolate. The Chinese can be blamed for everything- lead in our toys and now the world’s chocolate shortage. Thanks China.

If you think you’re prepping for a zombie apocalypse, maybe you should be prepping instead for a chocolate apocalypse. (Typing apocalypse is hard.)

What’s a chocolate apocalypse (fuck, I need a new word) you ask?

Let me draw you a picture- half the world’s population rely on a certain product to get them through a certain time of the month. Now take that half and say that 20 percent of them are under the age of 10 and 30 percent of them are over the age of 60 (I have no clue, I’m just throwing out stats here people), then we have 50 percent of PMS aged females who will be wondering the earth for chocolate. They will have torches and pitchforks and heat pads and Pringles and it won’t be pretty. They will search the earth while carrying DVD copies of Steel Magnolias and The Notebook under their arm and they will be crabby.

That’s at least 40% of the world’s population (again, just making this up) desperate for chocolate.

Sure we’re worried about the bees dying, and Ebola, and polar ice caps melting, but this- this is serious folks. Do you know what this means?

Nutella will just be hazelnut spread. And that sounds disgusting.

Reeses peanut butter cups will be just peanut butter cups. Not as delicious at all.

Oreos will be only the cream filling.

No chocolate chip cookies. Just oatmeal ones or snickerdoodles.

Nougat will be considered acceptable.

No chocolate Easter bunnies.

Chocolate fondue fountains will run dry and rust.

No hot cocoa. You might as well float those marshmallows in just some hot water.

M&Ms? Forget it. Extinct.

What will Professor Lupine give Harry Potter when he sees a dementor?

If Willy Wonka were real, (Johnny Depp or Gene Wilder, you choose) I would appeal to him to unearth some kind of magic cocoa bean supply. I would hope his Oompa Loompas would be the foot soldiers to this cause.

And the problem is, we can’t stock pile chocolate. Because that’s gross. I’ve tried. It’s unpleasant.

Chocolate will be the new drug trade. Empires will rise and fall. Tourists will be kidnapped in Swiss villas for their advent calendars.

This is serious folks.

We need to save the chocolate crops now. I don’t want some scientific GMO frankenchocolate. I want regular chocolate.

So China- listen up- back off the chocolate. Everyone- we need to ration this.

If we keep calm and don’t go crazy, perhaps the cocoa bean farmers will be able to catch up to our demand with their supply. Maybe 5 years is enough time to sound the alarm and solve this before it’s a problem.

Can we do this? I think we can.

KEEP calm and save the chocolate by frugalista blog, world chocolate shortage, humor

If Kim Kardashian can break the Internet, so can I

Actually DID Kim break the Internet? I know she sure tried.  When one posts a naked booty shot all greased up, it kind of gets folks’ attention.

When I first heard about it, I totally rolled my eyes into my head. It was all over my Instagram feed and it didn’t take long for the crazy captions to start.

That Kimmy sure knows how to get our attention!

If you haven’t seen it yet, you’re probably wondering what the heck I’m talking about!

Wait for it…. Trust me. I’ll get there.

My first thoughts whenever Kim does something like this is ‘oh puhleeze, She’s always trying to get attention.”

And then, a light bulb clicked on.

“I’M ALWAYS TRYING TO GET ATTENTION TOO!”

I mean, right? I post goofy selfies, I promote the books I’m in, I put up YouTube videos. I write sponsored posts. I have a big posterior.

I haven’t gotten a perfume deal or a TV show, or even a million followers on Instagram, but I have gotten free curling irons, dog food, gift cards and Poise pads.

See? Me and Kim, were totally the same. Sort of. Just trying to make a buck.

And now, presenting how Kim #BroketheInternet.

Trust me, if my UPS man came knocking that day, he would have gotten a surprise.

I think I can say #frugiedismantledtheinternet

Noticed her oiled physique and my pasty dimpled one?

See her tiny itty bitty (photoshopped) waist, and look at my muffin top- they’re like twins.

Maybe I can get a champagne company to pay me to put a glass on my booty shelf like she did. You’ll have to Google that image, I’m too busy sitting here promoting my Amazon Affiliate store.

What am I thinking? I’ll be lucky if a toaster pastry company wants my booty in their ad. Well, it would be truth in advertising though.

Looking good Kim!

Kim Kardashian breaks the internet, frugie dismantles the internet, parody, spoof, humor, frugalista blog

 

Thank you to the talented Kim Bongiorno of Let Me Start By Saying who did my graphic!

 

Conversations with old married people

Effective communication is the touchstone of a good relationship. Listening to what the other person has to say. Actually hearing their words and not just spouting off when you want to hear yourself speak, but actually letting the other person tell you what’s on their mind.

Sometimes it takes a teenager to point out what you might be missing in this area. Sure, you’ve been married 17 years, your daughter is only 14, what could she possibly know? Apparently she just has better hearing.

It’s Sunday evening. We’re both with blankets on our laps, laptops on those blankets and on separate couches.

 

Me while sipping peppermint tea, shouting to McSweetie in the other room: “You can come in and watch football now. I’m done with my show.” (That show happened to be Les Miserable.)

McSweetie: “That’s okay, me and the cat are here napping.”

Me: “Why are you taking a nap at 8′oclock at night?”

McSweetie: “I’m norphn nea bate gluck”  (I don’t know, I couldn’t hear him.)

 

Emma walks in.

“That was the dumbest thing between you two just now. When you asked dad if he wanted to come in and watch football he said, ‘I’m hanging out with the cat’ and then you said something about taking a nap, and then he said ‘what time is it? It’s 8 o’clock’.

“You guys are the worst old people and you’re not even that old.”

Oh didn’t you know? Forty is the new seventy.

40 is the new 70 by Frugalista Blog

 

Study says a study about labor pain is the douchiest dumbest thing ever

What if I said a study says that a man getting his balls chopped off isn’t as painful as men claim?

SAY WHAT?

That’s preposterous! I can’t even imagine. I mean, that would be terribly painful. Well. Now don’t get me wrong. It hurts. But ask the man 2 months later and he’ll say maybe he’ll have forgotten the pain.

Or, let’s say he pushed out the Hope diamond from his urethra and didn’t get any pain meds and he might say that it hurt like a mother fucker, but later he forgot the pain once it healed.

Where am I going with this?

Yesterday I read a ridiculous article with the headline, “Study says child birth pain not as painful as women claim.” I’m only linking to the article so you can see how shit it really is. And maybe it’s not the article so much as the study itself that is complete shit.

frugie blog and the study childbirth not as painful as women claim

Let’s look at that shall we?

Child birth pain, not as painful as women claim.

SAYS WHO??

Who the fuck says that?

Women claim? Claim? That seems to suggest doubt. We ‘claim’ to have pain. I mean, maybe just a smidgen. I claim to have seen Bigfoot, but did I really see Bigfoot? I might claim to have once been able to do a back hand spring on the balance beam when I was 15. I might claim I can sing the entire Grease soundtrack by heart.

These CLAIMS may or may not be 100% true. But I’m not ‘claiming’ I had pain during childbirth. I’m shouting it from the mother freaking mountain tops that it hurt like a beast. A mother fucking Johnny Cash Ring of Fire beast.

When you look up the definition of claim it reads:

“an assertion of the truth of something, typically one that is disputed or in doubt.”

Further in the article it reads that the purpose of the study was to see if epidurals were helpful for moms.

See, this is what pisses me off.

Why are we always having to bang down the door for our own worth? We have to fight for birth control, for pain control, for equal pay. I am sick and tired of it.

Like Dee Snyder of Twisted Sister, we’re not gonna take it anymore.

Let’s hear from my panel of experts:

“Everyone always says that childbirth for a woman is like the pain of passing a kidney stone for a man. I have passed two kidney stones and two babies. The gigantic bloody howling bowling balls passing out of my body were way worse. Just sayin’.” – Ellen from Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms (who is a retired DOCTOR by the way.)

“Illinois woman claims that childbirth felt like a flailing rhino was ripping through her body wearing her vagina as a party hat.” Kerry from HouseTalkN who birthed 4 – 10 pound babies! (Not all at once, we won’t give her that much credit.)

“I thought my uterus was going to explode from the pain. It became one giant contraction. Labor had stalled and I didn’t know if I would pass out from the pain, need a c-section, or if it was possible to actually die from pain. The baby’s heart rate was hovering at a danger zone. When they gave me the epidural, I immediately felt warm and relaxed and within 40 minutes I went from 3 cm to 10 cm and delivered my baby girl.” – Me.

Pain is a personal experience. It’s subjective. You would never tell a combat veteran how his pain ‘claims’ to be measured. Pain needs to be honored and respected. It scars us. My painful experience of labor was etched in my cortex for months and months. It brought me to dark places when I was left quietly nursing my daughter, or suffering from a sleepless night. It caused layers of underlying fears and thoughts of inadequacy that haunted me months after my initial post-partum recovery.

I’ve worked through migraines and broken limbs, endometriosis and back injuries throughout my daily life. I’ve never relied on narcotics for these. Does that make them not painful? Less painful? No. It is how I process the pain. It is how I perceive the pain. It doesn’t make it less real.

Pain is not quantifiable. Sure we ask someone to rate their pain on a 1 to 10 scale. It gives us something to measure it in order to treat what they are experiencing. But what a 4 is to one person, could be a 9 to someone else. It’s based on subjective factors like experience and emotion, mental state, fear, lack of fear. Whatever.

Studies like this don’t help women. It doesn’t help our cause for men in lab coats to  try to determine how painful we ‘claim’ child birth is.

I don’t know what it’s like to get kicked in the balls, but I believe a man when he says it’s his worst pain. Is it worse than childbirth? I kind of doubt that. But it’s a severe horrible pain.

Professional soccer players get kicked in the goody sack several times in their career, it doesn’t stop them from playing. Nor does it require 6 weeks postpartum recovery, maxipads the size of Volkswagen Beetles and perineum bottles of warm water every time they use the bathroom.

“The researchers … called the moms twice, two days after birth and again two months later, to see if they used the same pain scale and provide an overall evaluation of her labor pain. The results show the women rated the process less painful two days after their delivery than they did when the researchers asked them again two months later.” (shit study from stupid researchers)

Well gee golly whiz. We actually forget our pain. Yes, this is true. It’s our body’s coping mechanism. It’s why you need a few years between each kid for the amnesia to set in. What happens when a woman is 6 weeks post partum or 12 weeks post partum and finds out she’s pregnant? She cries. That’s what. Because it is no fucking fun.

It’s beautiful, it’s amazing and I love my babies, but it hurts. And that’s not a claim. That’s a fact.

Am I making myself clear?

 

And just for laughs- let’s watch this video and remember how funny it was to laugh at these guys thinking women exaggerated everything.

The deformity I didn’t even know I had

Ladies- you thought your muffin top was a problem, wait until you start obsessing over your banana roll.

Banana rolls are a thing by Frugie Blog

photo credit Vox Efx

What’s a banana roll? Well, contrary to what you might think it is not the latest Pinterest treat to enjoy with your pumpkin spiced latte.

Although that does sound tasty.

It is the latest body obsession that we can thank bodacious babes like Nicki Minaj, Kim Kardashian and Iggy Azalea for. In the year of the butt, which let’s face it folks, has been every year for me, (ahem) we not only want to power out our lunges but now we can surgically take our upper thigh fat and place it in our booties. Well, not ‘we’, but plastic surgeons can.

A banana roll is an ‘unsightly’ (gasp) roll of fat just under the butt cheek. Because butt cheeks are made of fat. Duh.

Let’s just sit on this for a sec. Big butts are in. That’s cool. I always have appreciated a Kardashian backside. I will watch Keeping up the Kardashians just so I can feel better about my proportionally larger posterior.

But(t) not only are big butts in, a certain kind of ass is in. A large, perfectly round ass that has no folds or flaws that sits atop skinny thighs. Because THAT’S realistic (sarcasm font). A lollipop of a butt on a skinny leg. If you tell me that all of this is obtained WITH a thigh gap, I might have to punch someone.

What’s a thigh gap? Never mind.

The problem with celebrity culture bringing out ‘trends’ in body type is people become obsessed with unreal objectives.  These objectives achieved with plastic surgery, in the form of liposuction, that could be dangerous or reverse itself over time, aren’t worth it. Y’all know that Nicki Minaj got butt implants right? That’s not even her real ass! So if you’re trying to undo your banana roll with just your normal non-bionic butt, you’re probably not going to get the results you want in the first place.

According to the UK’s Daily Mail, some surgery clinics have seen business triple when it comes to sucking banana rolls from women’s backsides.

Well, it’s comforting to know the ladies of London have just as much insecurity as the rest of us. Geezus.

What is wrong with a flat ass? There’s a whole continent of folks with flat asses.

Let’s all mourn for the poor thing that thinks her butt is ‘deformed’ that posted her question on realself.com. The picture she posts shows a perfectly formed booty in my opinion. Nothing deformed about it!

You’ve read my rantings about body image before.

I can only handle so much the media, celebrity culture, and superficial masses are dishing out.

You’re thinking, “Gee Frugie, why not just shut up about it, ignore it and go on with yourself?”

Aww, where would the fun in that be?

Folks. I will not be getting lipo for my banana roll. Sure, it’s a stubborn bump of fat that sits under my butt cheek. Guess what?
You know what else is under my butt cheek? Cottage cheese.

Not like the real cottage cheese, but the proverbial dotty clumpy cellulite cottage thigh cheese. Yes, so pretty, I know.

I have been doing lunges and squats like crazy lately. Not because I want some pop star booty, but because working my glutes is a major muscle group that burns calories and gets my heart rate up. Plus, it makes my legs strong if I have to squat over porta potties in an emergency. I got me some serious butt game, no surgery.

I like to think of my body as a buffet; from my chicken-wing arms, to the muffin top cupcake fold in the middle, the now-labeled banana roll and of course, cottage cheese thighs.

And guess what- it’s all delicious THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

 

 

Motherhood is hard. You Have No Idea

Sometimes at the fork in the road of motherhood, you see your toddler thrashing about the floor in a tantrum, raging over a denied cookie. You think back to when they were tiny, helpless infants. That was easier right? If only I could follow that other path into a time machine, go back when it was simpler.

Oh, that’s called Mommy Amnesia. An actual Web MD condition. Okay, not it’s not. You just think it was easier then. It wasn’t. Remember the midnight feedings?

You think it’s going to be easier when they’re older. It has to, doesn’t it?

But what happens when you turn over your keys to your 16 year old? That’s as hard as crowning during childbirth!

Oh “YOU HAVE NO IDEA”.

All the stages of motherhood have been covered in this video. Tell me what stage you relate to most!

This video was created for the loving promotion of Jen Mann’s book People I Want to Punch in the Throat: Competitive Crafters, Drop-off Despots and Other Suburban Scourges

Frugalista Blog in the video You Have NO Idea

“This book kicks suburban ass”

Hit list- Yoga pant wearing over-achieving Pinterest moms on crack. Or maybe just on too many skinny lattes.

Assassin- Jen of People I Want to Punch in the Throat

Mission- To sell as many books as possible that kick ultimate suburban ass

You may or may not have guessed over the last year, I’ve had a little bit of a girl crush on my friend and mentor, Jen who writes the acerbic and gutsy blog, People I Want to Punch in the Throat. Having self published 3 books in the last 18 months, this is her Random House debut, and honestly, I sure as hell hope it’s her debut on the New York Time’s Best Seller’s List.

Her book, “People I Want to Punch in the Throat; Competitive Crafters, Drop-off Despots, and Other Suburban Scourges” hits shelves this week.

In it, she chronicles her match-made-in-AOL-heaven romance with her tight-wad, somewhat stingy (sorry Ebenezer) husband, her journey into motherhood that leads to play dates, PTA meetings and themed birthday parties, among other things.

If you’ve ever wanted to flip off that  one car at school drop-off, you know there’s always THAT parent, the one that thinks the rules don’t apply to them; then you will love this book.   Jen will have you laughing out loud at her observations and keen wit, between her pajama attired self at pick up, to her undying love and loyalty to her cleaning lady. Then there’s the chapters that your jaw will drop from the sheer audacity of some of these suburban ‘scourges’ she describes!

 

I was able to interview Jen for this book review. Don’t worry, I didn’t ask her what kind of tree she would be. But in the case of great interviews, kind of like, but totally different than let’s say, Frost/Nixon, I end with the all time question of ‘Shag, Marry or Kill”.

It’s always fun to get a little back story about the author. So here goes.

Me: “So Jen, Did you ever find your ring bearer’s pillow? Was it among the sex toys?” (What the heck? Hmm… read the book to find out more!)

Jen: “No! That poor, stupid pillow. It’s never turned up. I even moved from that house and I was sure we’d find it on the top shelf of the pantry or some place random like that, but nope. Now I think it got thrown out the day I received it. It was very small and light and I think it got tossed out in a bag of wrapping paper and tissue. So sad!”

Me: “What should I do if I’m too scared to hire a cleaning lady because my house is so dirty and cluttered? My baseboards are filthy and I think the dust bunnies are breeding.”

Jen: “This is why it’s so important to get a cleaning lady who you trust. She’s going to see what you shove under your bed and she’s going to know what a pig you are. It sounds like you’ll probably need to do a bit of sweep with a high powered vacuum before you bring in someone. Bring her in the day after you’ve dusted and tell her it’s been months since you last did anything. She’ll still think you’re a hot mess, but she won’t know the truth. Then, once you find someone you love, keep her happy. Shower her with praise and gifts. Let her know how important she is to you. Romance her a bit. Good luck!”

Me: “That’s excellent advice Jen. I’ll get to cleaning and then interviewing. Hopefully I find one that has an understanding of my obsession with beauty products that cover every inch of my bathroom.”

Me: “What do you have against the cereal Krave? I buy that by 3 boxes at a time.”

Jen: “Because I’ve never tasted it, I guess I have nothing against it. However, between the name, the design on the box, and the commercials, I’m assuming it’s cereal laced with heroin and crack. You might think I have no standards when it comes to feeding my kids, but every now and again I surprise even myself and say “No.””

Me: “You might be right about the crack part. You mean, ‘krack’.

Speaking of hanging out eating cereal all day. Have you ever considered Pajama Jeans? They’re really practical in lounging all day and not actually looking like pajamas. Eh hem.”

Jen: “My daughter tried to buy me a pair last year for Christmas. She thought they would solve all of my problems with one stretchy pair of pants. They seemed a little fancy for me. I’m not sure I can pull them off.”

Me: “Would you rather go to a Pinterest themed cat’s wedding or dog’s funeral? ”

Jen: “Wow, this one is tough. I’m going to go with cat wedding. I may not like dogs a whole lot, but a funeral is still sad. I’d rather enjoy the joining of two cats in holy matrimony. Plus, I’m hoping that one would have an open bar and a karaoke machine at the reception.”

Me: “Karaoke! We could sing a duet to Wicked! You have an alter ego as a realtor. Will you ever write a realtor’s Tell-All?”

Jen: “Oh, I don’t think I can. I think I’ve signed something legal-like that says I can’t dish on my clients. I could talk about my co-worker’s clients though. They’ve got better stories than me any way.”

Me: “Are you sure? That swingers party was some good dish! I think you should consider it. Speaking of swingers, do you have any piercings or tattoos?”

Jen: “No and after visiting a water park last summer, I’ve decided that I’m the only person in America without any piercings or tattoos.”

Me: “You can count me in on the no tattoos/piercings club too. What would you do if Adolpha came home with a face tattoo?”

Jen: “Cry and then give her a paper sack to wear over her head for the rest of her life.”

Me: “There’s really good concealer these days at Sephora. She could upgrade from a paper sack if she needed to.

Okay. Now for the grand finale. My favorite game of—–

Marry, Shag or Kill- Your choices are- Tom Hilddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, Jon Stewart. Now go!”

Jen: “This is easily the hardest question for me. You’re really killing me. I adore all of these guys. OK, here we go:

Shag: Tom Hilddleston and then join a polygamist compound and marry BOTH Benny and Jonny.”

Me: “Way to take the easy way out! Although, I’m probably in the same boat with you.”

Thanks Jen for playing along with my interview. And congratulations on a hilariously funny and revealing book!

Find People I Want to Punch in the Throat; Competitive Crafters, Drop-off Despots, and Other Suburban Scourges” everywhere; Barnes & Noble, Amazon, iTunes and independent book stores.

I gave this book my 5-star Amazon and Goodreads review. Go read it for yourself!

 

Frugie reviews the new book, People I Want to Punch in the Throat

25 reasons not to have sex every night. Or much at all for crying out loud.

Frugie blog- reasons not to have sex with your husband. HUMOR, Marriage, life

There was an article in Huffington Post this summer about why I should have sex with my husband every night that made me roll my eyes out of my head. Like, I think I sprained something.

Power to that woman and her husband. But gobsdangit, she just convinced about 8 million husbands that they should be gettin’ some on every day that ends in Y.

Oh PUHLEEZE.

Disclaimer- I’m a happily married woman of 17 years who gives and gets it from her hubs plenty. So there.

But here’s my list on reasons not to have sex.

1.  I haven’t showered.

2. It’s Tuesday.

3. I had to clean the cat box earlier.

4. I have gas. Again.

5. I’m constipated.

6. I’m feeling bloated.

7. I had to put the kids to bed.

8. I made dinner.

9. I did the dishes.

10. I’d rather watch Downton Abbey.

11. I had to go to our kids’ school and it was exhausting.

12. I had to go grocery shopping.

13. I just washed the sheets.

14. I ate too much bread today.

15. The dog is snuggling me.

16. Our son is sleeping on our floor again after his nightmare.

17. It’s Thursday.

18. We did it last week. Or month. Whatever.

19. You promised me a back rub and only a back rub.

20. I need to exfoliate my face.

21. I’m tired.

22. We talked about our financial situation.

23. I’m worried about a UTI.

24. I just showered.

25. I painted my nails and they’re still wet.

Well, I could go on and on. Couldn’t you? I mean, let’s not get carried away. Sex is natural, sex is fun, just like George Michael sang. But good gracious, I’ve got things to do. I’m middle aged and tired. I don’t need no twentysomething who hasn’t found her first gray pubic hair, or crows foot, telling me what to do. If he wants sex every night, he can have it. By himself. But see, even he’s too tired for that. So there you go. It’s called life.  And nobody needs to tell you what to do. So there.

 

Girl crush Friday

Meghan Trainor. Who’s that? Let me tell you.

Frugalista Blog Girl Crush Friday All About That Bass

By the end of today I will get a song stuck in your head for sure.

But in a good way!

Yes, this summer has been all about Iggy, and Ariana, and Pharell. But, for me, it’s been ALL ABOUT THAT BASS.

And that’s BASS pronounced (bayse). Just so we’re clear.

You probably have never heard of her- Meghan Trainor. An adorable 20 year old from Massachusetts, who is probably considered the American Adele with her raspy mature voice, retro cute looks in her video and vocal pipes.

But I think she’s Meghan all on her own. Not just an Adele comparison. No offense Adele, you’re awesome.

Let’s talk about her single and her video.

All About That Bass is an anthem of sorts but not just for fat girls. No. It’s chorus,

“My momma she told me don’t worry about your size”

and “You think you’re fat. But every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top.” needs to be shouted from the mountain tops. I wish it could be piped in the halls of high schools everywhere. These words need to resonate with girls all over of all sizes!

Whether you’re a size 0 or size 16. The body image thing isn’t overdone. Trust me. Because girls are still looking in the mirror comparing themselves to magazine pictures. My daughter included. And myself.

So let’s “Bring booty back” and not worry about numbers but revel in our (s)ass and glory! Yeah!

Whenever this song came on the radio this summer, my daughter and I blasted it and broke out in our best moves. Even in the car.

Here’s the video that is immensely popular. Anything with retro looking Betty Draper style mixed with cotton candy explosion of pastel colors, pretty much begs me to love and adore it like a new kitten.

And if the tune ain’t your thing, no biggy. Just remember that ‘You’re perfect from the bottom to the top’.

Meghan, you go on with your fine self. And if you ever want to go makeup shopping and shoe shopping, call me. I know a great place next to the best donut shop!

If that’s not cute enough, here she is on Jimmy Fallon: