I know I didn’t post yesterday. I got home at 11:50 and I could have just thrown up a “hey. I’m blogging. Goodbye” post, I didn’t want to, since I basically did that the day before. I don’t know what my failure means. I’ve basically been struggling with my other goals as well, so I could start over… (sigh). We’ll see.

Today’s topic? Parents. They just don’t understand, yo!

So there are definitely secrets I keep from my parents. The biggest one being (surprise surprise) this job. But I have other little secrets my parents don’t know about. One of them is my obsession with nail polish and cosmetics of all kinds, really. But lately my obsession has stuck on nail polish and the monkey on my back hasn’t let go! So my dad made me a nail polish rack for Christmas. It’s really nice, too. Like really nice. I can’t even explain how nice it is. And he was so proud of it, but told me that I shouldn’t try to fill it up completely, since the rack can hold 200+ nail polishes. And I just kind of laughed. Nervously. And while I was breaking out into a sweat, I was trying to figure out a way I could ask my father to make 4 more of those racks for my entire collection.

Yeah. I said it.

And the really crappy thing about it is: the new collections have started to come out, and I already purged a lot of my polishes out. I got rid of tons of my mini nail polishes, and some of my LA colors that I picked up at various Ross’ and Dollar Tree stores. I probably can get rid of some of my Sinful Color nail polishes, because there really isn’t anything unique about a lot of the colors from that collection, and I’m not really married to the idea of picking up any more of them. They tend to release new collections that are basically the same fucking polish they released before, but they just add another name to it. I don’t like that. So … the more I think of it, the more I probably will just get rid of those. I’ll peak at them tomorrow and see if I start to cry at the thought of saying goodbye to them or not.

Where was I?

yeah – so my father has no idea. And he was talking about possibly selling these racks to suppliers and collectors. Cuz it’s an awesome rack (why do I feel like a guy describing some chick’s tits every time I say “rack”?). But he probably will sell it for $200. And I told him that was too much. He needs to make a cheaper one. And he told me that anyone who spends 5 bucks on a bottle of polish can afford to spend $200 bucks on a cool rack to show their collection off. I wanted to tell him I’d prefer to go to target and buy a plastic container, shove my polishes in there, and take the other 190 bucks and buy fingernail polish! But he wouldn’t understand. And he’d probably commit me.

That’s the only thing on my mind, currently. How my father will one day see what his daughter spends her money on and wonder where he went wrong. And I’ll tell him I’m sorry I disappointed him and didn’t become a missionary in Africa like he wanted. But things could always be worse. I could be spending all my money on drugs. Or shoes.

I totally forgot I needed to do this blog…and now it’s too late to do anything but this really lame one. I’m sorry. I think I should get a pass like this though because I’ve really been doing a good job of blogging, right? Right?

Ok. Thanks! I’ll write more tomorrow! xo.

After a few debates today, I realized I still have a little bit more to say about the now old news regarding Paula Dean and her admitting to having diabetes and the world’s reaction to the news.

Apparently our beloved Southern Belle admitted to having diabetes only because she’s the new spokesperson for this new wonder drug that helps control diabetes so you can continue eating food like… well, like Paula Deen cooks. Again I have to say – Who the f*ck cares. Apparently I do, because this is my second blog about it. So let me just write my final post about this and then go on to something more interesting – like Demi Moore going into to rehab and Seal and Heidi Klum breaking up. Or sex. Maybe I should just stick to sex.

This is the thing – No one should look at television as some moral road map for good eating, good relationships, good anything – except for entertainment, and barely that! Paula Deen should not be cooking for anything other than decadent people who don’t give a flying tootsie roll what goes into their mouths and the food network. Last I saw, there weren’t a whole lot of people cooking healthy on that show. That whole network is one big food orgy, isn’t it? So Paula wants to get money sponsoring a drug for diabetes while peddling fried twinkies and bacon wrapped hamburgers and sides of french fries and oreo caramel chocolate shakes. How is that any different than movie stars peddling cigarettes in movies and sluts selling beer while washing your BMW and anorexic models dropping dead on runways but preaching about diet pills or the latest diet? Why is Paula Deen any different than any other hypocrite out there and why are we so surprised. Were we looking to her for salvation and she sold our soul to the Devil of Chocolate Cake… I don’t get it.

Stepping off my soap box now.

I’ll post earlier tomorrow because I go out singing tomorrow and have writing group Thursday evening. Looks like the next few nights will be late nights. I’ll try to stay logged in through tomorrow morning, but I’m not promising I’ll actually hear you should you call in the early mornings…though I did talk to a few of you horny bad boys early this morning! Nothing beats being ravished in the early morning by some of you before you go to work. You always leave me happy and pleasantly exhausted!

Speak soon. Oh, and lay off the sugar and butter. Unless you’re licking it off of me, in which case – have seconds!

Maybe it’s her laugh and that cute Southern accent. Maybe it’s her awesome banana bread recipe – that always turns out perfectly! Maybe it’s because she just reminds me of a grandmother I might crawl into the lap of, who probably smells sweet, and who always has great treats around. Maybe it’s all these things and more that make me feel really bad for Paula Deen.

I mean, yeah, we all “saw it coming” – but did we? Did we really? There are plenty of thin people out there who suffer from diabetes – and no, not the type 1 kind. Type 2. Halle Berry. Dick Clark. Um … I’m sure there’s others, but I don’t have time to google them at the moment. My point is, we can’t assume that all fat people just have it comin’ to them and not give a rat’s ass when they get sick. Cuz that would be unpatriotic. And mean. We all sat around and cried when Amy Winehouse died. Didn’t seem to matter that she was a rock star with piss poor self control around drugs and alcohol. Oh, wait. Some of us blamed her and said she had it comin’, too. Never mind.

Maybe I’m missing something here, but … I’m really sad that Paula Deen is diabetic. Now she’s going to be cutting out all the sweets and cooking all healthy on her show, which just doesn’t translate into my grandmother fantasy at all. Grandmothers don’t sit you down and hand you carrots to eat. Your parents do that. Grandparents have the cookies. And the twinkies. That’s their job. I’m pretty sure it’s in their contract.

I’m just saying.

I think we should be a little nicer to Paula Deen. And stop giving butter a bad name, because all grandparents know – butter is far healthier than margarine. It was probably all that sugar that did her in. And a sedentary lifestyle. And the smoking. Nah. She didn’t smoke. But she wasn’t exercising. She should have taken a few walks every day. But then, shouldn’t we all? I’ve been trying to do this damn 5K run for 2 years now.

That’s all I have for you tonight. I’m still recovering from my sickness, which is leaving my body but has currently taken up residency in my sinus cavity. If Paula Deen were here, she’d make me some yummy grilled cheese and tomato soup. And then probably ask me what these men talk about when they call.

I was thinking about writing about this for the past week, but there are times in a woman’s life (sorry if this is TMI, but this is my blog and you’re reading it… LOL!) where the thought of two vaginas is enough to make a girl child cry. I think I’m at the point now where I can address this topic and write about it in a way that gives it respect. As any woman with two vaginas should get. Respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Plenty of it. Like barrels filled. Word.

I saw this little “blurb” about a woman having two vaginas and I didn’t even really read it. That’s how disturbed I was by it. But I’m going to google it now, and give you my first impressions/reactions. Here we go. Women with two vaginas.

• According to google, there are plenty of woman who have two vaginas (vagini? vaginay?). Tyra Banks spoke with 5 such women in 2010. Wow, Tyra. You go girl. With your bad kinky multi vagina talkin self!
• The latest woman afflicted with multivaginaitis is named Hazel. Hazel? I dunno, a woman with 2 vaginas shouldn’t be named Hazel. She should be named something sexy like…Shanna. or… Victoria. or…PussyGalore.
• Hazel Jones…she sounds like she lives next door!…apparently has been approached by several adult film producers, one who offered to pay her 1 million dollars. Good for you, Hazel. The things they will probably do to your 2 vaginas warrants much more than 1 million dollars!!
• Let’s think about this seriously for a moment. She has 2 vaginas. 2 cervixes. 2 uterus’. (uteri? uteruseses) which means she can have 2 times of the month, she can lose her virginity twice. And, if she’s having sex and a guy says “oops. wrong hole…” she can’t dismiss it as a guy trying to “slip one by her”! Poor Hazel.

So what do you think? Does the thought of Ms. Hazel’s two Vagini make you horny?

I’m logged in for the next couple of hours. Feeling MUCH better, so give me a call! You’ll be glad you did.