Here is an open letter I wrote to the notoriously slutty Cyrus sisters. Now, the Old Wolf would tell you that I tried to dress this way. And yes, I did. WHEN I WAS A TEENAGER. I was not nine years old, and I certainly wasn't dancing on a stripper pole like Miley Cyrus did at the teen choice awards. Somone PLEASE call CPS on this family already and have those kids taken away. Preferably to someone who will force them to dress Amish. Look, I dressed a bit provacatively in my day. Most girls did. However I wasn't NINE YEARS OLD.
(Go to Babycenters Famebaby blog to get a gander at the sluttiness that is Noah Cyrus.)
Look, as the Stepmother to a nine year old girl, I can tell you it'd be a cold day in HELL before I let her walk out of the house with a dress so short you could see her cooter. As a parent, I am nothing short of appalled and disgusted with the clothing marketed to girls T's age. What business does a nine year old have wearing shorts with "JUICY" written across the ass? (I've seen them, they DO exist.) Why not just put a sign around your neck advertising yourself to anyone with pedophilic tendencies and BEG to be knocked up before you're 18, hmmm?
Without further ado, here is the letter I have written to the Slutty Cryus Clan:
Dear Cyrus Sisters,
Thanks to the both of you cavorting around dressed wildly inappropriate, you have lost a part of your fan base. See, what neither of you seem to grasp is that parents (such as I) control what our children watch, and control what they buy.
Thanks to Miley dancing like a stripper during the Teen Choice awards, I will be throwing out anything Hannah Montana. Thanks to Noah dressing like a hooker at a recent Halloween party, we will not watch her show. Nor will we buy anything Cyrus-related.
Both of you are practically begging every person with pedophilic tendencies to fantasize about you. You are also screaming with your choice of wardrobes and actions, "Fill my womb before I am ready for such a responsability!"
I hope the both of you realize that you're not only hurting yourselves, you're losing fans rather quickly.
Signed,
A Concerned Mother
Since I'm all about getting married lately...As in I got hammered Wednesday night and proposed to Bryan. He said no. But I thought I'd post some pics from my HELLACIOUS first wedding. How hellacious you ask? Um, I was drunk during the ceremony. No joke.
Today’s post is somewhat random. Not a whole bunch of stuff happenin’ in my little slice of hell. So, here are my random, scattered-to-the-wind thoughts:
Tell me why it makes sense to yell at the television? We got a new DVR box and Bryan had to set it up last night. Either the picture quality was an exercise in mediocrity or we didn’t have access to the local channels. While he didn’t lose his cool with the customer service reps, he did at the TV, however. Because Lord knows it’s the TV’s fault.
Here’s how you know your day is pretty much gonna blow. When you wake up at 7:15 and you have to leave in 15 minutes to be at work on time. When you break a zipper zipping up your fabulous, favorite boots and have to throw them in the trash. When you have to spend 10 minutes scraping the permafrost off your car, give up, and drive to work with half of your window scraped. When you’re so late getting out the door you pack your make-up so you can do it in the ladies room at work. When you walk into the break room for coffee and watch some asshat walk away with the last cup of your beloved brew and he didn’t make another pot. When you get to work and people say “Wow, did you have a late night or something?” When you walk out of the ladies room with your skirt tucked into your panty hose and you’re wearing a thong. When you walk around the office like that until the receptionist takes pity on you and tells you that you’re flashing everyone. That is how you know your day is going to suck.
Tell me why it is that Murphy had to go and make all these dumb laws? No matter how early I wake up something happens and I am late for work. Traffic is gridlocked. There’s an accident on the freeway. I rip a seam, (or zipper in today’s case). I stop for gas and of course that’s the one day that everybody within a ten mile radius needs gas, too. Funny though if I wake up a little later, I get to work on time. Even though my hair is pulled into a lackluster ponytail, my outfit is schlumpy, and I’m not wearing make up.
On a much brighter note: I have left over tacos for lunch today.
On a much, much brighter note: I haven’t heard from my Mother in two days! AWESOME!
The American Music Awards were a mix of some bad, make me want to scream "FIRE YOUR STYLIST!" moments, and some "Oh my Lord, I looove that!" fashion. But, you can't appreciate the good without the bad. So, with out further ado...
Phoebe Price, tell me again what exactly it is you're famous for? I mean, aside from looking like the Stay Puff Marshmallows slutty wife. And, I might add, if you're going to get a weave and dye job...Spend more than $50.00. Oh, you spent how much? Oh, I'm sorry. You got ripped off.
Nikki, Nikki, Nikki...Loose the Axl Rose GNR headband, for starters. Two, stay out of the eyeliner. You're not a racoon. Three, is that a dorag? Somehow I can't picture you throwing up West Side symbols...And quit sticking your finger in a light socket, look at what it does to your hair!
I know the invite said it wasn't formal. But somehow I don't think they meant jeans and sneakers. And, BTW, looove the Val-U Village ski jacket circa 1986.
Rihanna, why? I love your devil may car style! But you look so frumpy, dumpy, schlumpy..All of the umpys. And pregnant. (Not that I would blame you, I mean..Chris Brown...Wow.)
Shailene Woodley. Nut sure what you're famous for. But you look young, fresh, and hip. You have a beautiful smile and gorgeous eyes.
This dress is sexy without being inappropriate. And it emphasizes your long, lean body. Although, you could've done something a little more with your hair. Don't get my wrong, I'd kill for it. But maybe a messy updo?
Sarah Chalke. The sweetheart neckline opens up your petite shoulders and give the illusion of a bigger bust. The asymetrical hem gives the appearance if height, too. Good show, girl, good show.
Alicia Keyes. She looks regal, elegant, and stunning without looking overdone. The oversized earrings highlight the exquisite beading on the Grecian-inspired gown. The jewelry is otherwise minimal, which is a plus. If you're going to make a statement with your accessories, pick one thing. And she does it so well. The earrings bring the focus to her lovely face.
For once, Miley Cyrus doesn't look like a little girl playing dress up. She is alluring without being Lolita. The gold plays up her cooper colored locks. And the dress is neither too revealing nor too modest. She srtruck the right balance between "Not A Girl...Not yet a Woman."
I'm a list person. I'm forever making lists and then crossing things off my list. It makes me feel like I actually did something. To be honest, though, sometimes my list lookslike:
1) Make coffee
2) Shower before noon. Shave legs!
3) Fold & put away laundry
4) Record What Not to Wear on DVR
5) Browse Craigslist 'Best Of' for new posts
And yes, I feel better once I've completed lists like that. I know I've been away for awhile. We cancelled our Comcast to set up Qwest internet and there was an, ahem, slight delay. Besides, one of my colleagues quit on Monday and work has subsequently been hell. Anyhoo, here's two lists I've been thinking about all week.
Various Diets I have Been on. And some I'm currently trying:
1) Throw up everything 30 minutes after you eat it because you're pregnant diet. (Been there.)
2) Eat everything in sight because you crave everything known to man and hey, didn't your doctor say not to worry about weight gain diet? (Done that.)
3) The too busy to even think about food and oh, hey! Look! An Oreo and orange juice! That can be dinner diet. (Do that quite a bit.)
4) The I just spent $150 on groceries that I didn't have and this shit better last diet. (Currently there.)
5) The I don't even have enough money to take advantage of the Wal-Mart two for twenty-five cent special on Top Ramen so make the best of what we have in the house diet. (Do that a lot more than I'd like to admit...)
The last two work pretty well, I must admit.
Last one, I promise....
Signs you watch too much What Not To Wear:
1) You record the whole damn season on your DVR
2) When you leave the house you wonder what Stacy & Clinton would say about your look.
3) You see people on the streets and automatically mentally make them over, WNTW style.
4) You can quote fashion advice word-for-fucking-word to anyone who will listen.
5) If WNTW is on, then your whole family is watching it, even if they don't want to. (Bry-yeah, I'm talking to you. Admit it, you like it. It's not gay, I promise.)
6) You've begged people to nominate you just so you can meet Stacy & Clinton, and shop with them in NYC with five grand.
(I am guilty of all of those. Sooo guilty.)
I haven't bought a new bra in over a year. Last time I bought a bra I was pregnant and my boobs made Pam Anderson look like she had yet to hit puberty (or a plastic surgeon, for that matter.)
I only buy my bras from Victorias Secret. Before I got pregnant I was a 36C, and the bras I found in the stores seemed to marketed to women with no curves, women that are candidates for breast reduction surgery, or they were just plain ole fugly. I've bought a few bras from the likes of Wal-Mart, Target, Fred Meyer, and other stores of their ilk. They offered either A) no coverage, B) no support, C) nothing pretty, or D) all of the above. Vickie's was the only place that sold pretty, comfortable, supportive bras. Sure, they're $45 but they last forever and a day, but they're worth it.
When I was pregnant, my boobies changed. They ballooned up to a 34DD and they've stayed at that size. Which is kinda nice, although my shirts are slightly tighter now. But I only had 2 34DD bras, and they've died. R.I.P, oh beloved Bras of mine! How did they die, you ask? It was a long, drawn out death. First the elastic started to go. Then the straps threatened to detach from the band, hanging on by a mere thread. Last week, Bry and I were getting dressed for work, and as I went to put my last good bra on, the band snapped, and broke. It fell to the floor in a lifeless, forlorn heap. I was mad because it broke, Bryan was elated since he got a peek at my goodies. (Men!)
I don't have the $90 to go buy new bras, so I'm kinda forced to use my old 36C bras.
The straps dig into my shoulders, and it hurts. Even when I adjust the strap length, it still hurts. And even when I use the last possible clasp, I am pouring out of this thing. Ever seen a quad boob? You know, when a woman is wearing a bra that's too small and both her boobs run over the cups, making it look like she has 4 boobs? That's me, my cups runneth over. Well, kinda.
One boob, my left one, affectionately nicknamed Big Bertha, is bigger than my right boob, nicknamed Smalls. So I've got the tri-boob. It looks ridiculous. People in the office look at my quizically. Not only do I already wear loose fitting pants, I now have to find baggy shirts so it's not as obvious.
On the positive side...Looks like we're going to Vickies when my get my paycheck! I know that'll trigger another round of Mommy guilt, but at least, as Stacey London says "The girls will be up high where they should be."
OH! I almost forgot! Pook said Dada last night! AWESOME!!!
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