Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Hair removal. We all deal with it. We spend hours doing it. Here is my opinion on a few different methods, all of which I have tried.
Razor: by far my favorite. The most effective and efficient method out there. It is also the least painful, as long as you have a steady hand that is...I wouldn't recommend it if you have the shakes. The down side? It is only temporary.
Tweezers: very effective, but takes a long time. Especially if you are sporting a Frida Khalo look. Be careful however, that you don't over do it. I am curious as to why the pain is always a surprise. No matter how long you have been doing it, or how often, the pain is always just as terrific and as shocking as the first time.
Waxing: very effective, very quick. The tricky part is getting a person you trust to do it for you. Otherwise you end up looking like an East L.A. Chola. And it takes a good two weeks to grow back in, so you can scare alot of people in the mean time.
Threading: I found someone at Eyebrow Are Us (No I didn't forget the "S") who does a beautiful job. But the pain is just as bad as waxing, only it goes on for about 10 minutes. You can hear the twang of the thread and your hair being pulled out by the roots. ONE BY ONE. Think of a tree being pulled out of the ground.
So, there you have it. Five options and my expert opinion. What could be better? What ever method you choose, I wish you well! Shave on my friends, shave on.
Till next time,
I wanted to take a few minutes to shed a little light on the hospitality industry ( But not too much, because you couldn't handle it!). I believe that everyone should at one time or another, have a job in hospitality. Either in a hotel or a restaurant. To learn how to serve grouchy, condesending and entitled people in a way that will benefit both them and your employer, results in a highly valuable employee. Am I suggesting that you fake enthusiasm when serving others? Well, if you are getting paid, then yes. And if you are not getting paid, and do it out of kindness, or as a volunteer, my answer is still a resounding YES.
Having worked as a waitress when I was in my late teens, I have to tell you that everything you hear about what can happen to your food, is true. I do not care how well run the restaurant is, it is still run by humans who are more than likely being paid minium wage. The least you can do, to ensure your food is not contaminated, is to be polite to the staff. Did you know that waitresses are sometimes not even paid minimum wage? And they are taxed by the government on a percentage of their sales EVEN if they are not tipped the 20% that is common courtesy? Yep. Go ahead and ask.
I also have had the distinct pleasure of working as a receptionist at a hotel. I know that how you treat employees, (from the manager, to the maids and everything in between) directly determines your entire stay, from the cleanliness of your room, to the quality of your food. If you think otherwise, you and your rainbow colored pet unicorn are delusional. And, make sure you leave a tip for the cleaning lady, she depends on it, and it is very common for a hotel to hire maids for only 4 hours a day, which means that even though they may get minimum wage, they only get paid for half a day and the employer can get away with not providing any benefits. It is the nice thing to do, even if you are only staying for one night.
Let's go over a few questions that are asked of you on a regular basis, why they are asked, and some of the stupider smart Alec answers I have been given in the past, just for fun.
Hotel receptionist: Welcome to the Wilton Garden Inn. How can I help you today?
Asked because: ALL employees are required to say this, or face termination.
Answer from guest: "Um, DUH! I'm here to get a room for the night!"
Hotel receptionist: "OK, I'll need your credit card and identification please."
Asked because: If you don't get these, legally the credit card holder is not responsible for the debt incurred.
Answer from guest: "WHY do you need my Identification?!? I stay here EVERY WEEK!
Answer from receptionist: Because I don't want to lose my job.
Restaurant hostess: "Good morning, how many in your party today?"
Asked because: I don't know if you drove with someone who let you off to get the table while they parked the car.
Answer from guest: "Table for two please, just me and my friend Harvey, the invisible rabbit."
As you can see, there are reasons behind every question that may seem trivial or superfluous to you. They are not ice breakers, and are not asked for the entertainment of the people who are asking them. Just be polite and answer truthfully, without sarcasm. Otherwise, you may be ingesting something you hadn't planned on.
Till next time
But, there is a problem that I see. If we are only showing pictures of smiling teenagers, or beautiful gourmet meals at posh restaurants, we never really get to know each other. We may even begin to see each other in an unrealistic "Martha-Stewart" light. (Do you find it interesting that Martha was named after the sister in the Bible who worried about the wrong things by the way?)
I promise, no, I GUARANTEE! That your friends will still love you. Banana-Fran will not stop following you. Heck, you may even encourage someone....
Keepin' it real,
Monday, February 4, 2013
We live in Southern California, with parents over an hour away from us. Of course traveling with small children always has its dangers. One is the inevitable potty stop with the only legal way of relieving oneself being the nasty-sticky-germ-ridden-gas station. A very petri-dish of E-Coli, Staphyloccus, and Influenza virus. The other, equal danger? Hungry children.
No matter how many snacks you pack, there will come a time when they are gone. Eaten up. Thrown out the window, given to a stray dog or whatever other way your crafty child can think up to dispose of them.
It was one of those nights when we were traveling across SoCal after visiting the grandparents.We really should have left earlier, but miscalculated the time it would take to get home. It was well past time for dinner. The healthy snacks were long gone, with the exception of a bruised apple, a lone bite taken out of it, resting on the floor of the van gathering dust, beach sand from last summer, and dog hair (don't ask).
You can, as a parent, learn to tune out a certain degree of whining and fighting and screaming. But, when you have more than one child, they somehow know how to gang up on you. Sometimes it is the form of screaming in unison, sometimes chanting together some odd phrase such as: "Potty! Potty! Potty!" THAT, my friends, you CANNOT ignore.
This time however, the chant was, "Hungry! We are Hungry!"There are times in a parents life, when poor decisions are made. A combination of desperation, exhaustion, and yes, perhaps even a smidgen of fear drive you to do things you wouldn't otherwise do. Sanitation and culinary standards are compromised. Choices that will be regretted for a lifetime, are made in a single instant.
It was in that single instant, when we decided that the only gas station in a 50 mile radius, would have to be our source of food (I say in shame, with head held low). The children, still chanting, stayed in the car with dad, as I took on the great responsibility of finding something somewhat nutritious or at least somewhat fit for human consumption. I eyed the chips, no, too messy. The chocolate bars, NEVER! (That is a "mommy food") The beef jerky, (Choking hazard)....then I saw it. Corn dogs. These would suffice. I looked at them, with the sign that temptingly read "Hot Corn Dogs." I bought one for each of the Chanters and possibly some chocolate for me, (I deserved it after all that, right?)
Back out at the car, I discarded the wrappers and handed them their food, jumped into the van, strapped on my seat belt, and we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the freeway for the rest of the journey home. The kids were happily munching away on their corn dogs....for about 1 minute. Then the chanting began again. This time mixed with screams of, "It's hot! It's HOT!!!!!"
"Just blow on it!" I yelled back at them, already exhausted and emotionally spent. "It's HOT!" They continued. "Of course its hot!" I yelled back. JUST EAT THE CORN DOGS ALREADY!!!!! YOU SAID you were hungry!!!!" "No Mommy! It's HOT-HOT!" They screamed at me. I grabbed the wrapper and read the label, "Jalapeno-corn dogs." Then I understood....
The thought of fried pig skin makes me nauseous. It wasn't until last week that I tried finally tried some. I feel cheated. 43 years of my life have been spent snubbing pork rinds. What a fool I have been! What heavenly-bacony-crunchy-deliciousness I have denied my taste buds! And for what? For NOTHING I tell you! I have wasted my life! If you have not tried them, I am telling you, TODAY, go out and get some TODAY! It;s like perfectly fried bacon. In a bag. But it's not.
Now, I will admit to you, that I am still embarrassed to be seen buying them. I am the lady who hides them beneath an Enquirer before putting them on the check out stand. Yes I have had the cashier ask if a certain bag of pork rinds belonged to me (Unnecessarily loud too I might add). I would rather be seen buying a climbing ivy planted in a kitten shaped pot than be seen buying a bag of Hill Billy Delight pork rinds. Don't judge me. Don't hate. I'm new at this. Hey, I'm writing about it here. Give me a break!
So all you Gentiles out there, I want to share the Red Necked secret with you. If you like bacon, (And really, WHO doesn't like bacon except maybe my friend Lupe? ) then you will LOVE pork rinds. Enjoy it my friends. Portable bacon. Need I say more?
Till next time,
Friday, February 1, 2013
I will readily admit that I am not Martha Stewart. No one is. Well, except for Martha Stewart. I know I am not the best house keeper, I don't care which way the toilet paper is facing just as long as it's on the roll when I need it, and certainly don't shop the local farmers market for fresh produce to make garden frittata for breakfast each morning. BUT, I have a question. Why do people, women in particular, find it necessary to make things that take longer to make or shop for, or prepare to make, and are more expensive, when you can just go to the store and buy them? Good grief!
Case in point? Marshmallows. WHY would you make a marshmallow when you can BUY a whole dang bag of Jet Puffs for .98 at the grocery store? WHY would you do that? The ingredients would cost you about $12.62 to purchase. And do you really want to spend 3 hours making them and another 2 for them to dry? COME on people! Stop all this marshmallow nonsense! Don't make a pinata, BUY one!!! Buy your pasta in a box, don't make it!
Rise up with me in rebellion against the Marthas in the world! I say, DOWN with the makers of homemade marshmallows and pinatas! No wonder our economy is in such a mess! What do you think happens at the Jet Puffed Factory when people stop buying their marshmallows for S'Mores? Or the Pinata factory? Or Barilla pasta makers? Relax! Stop it already! Focus on more important things like reading and taking naps. If you really want to make something, how about dinner? Bust out the Crock pot and enjoy a game of Scrabble with your family. Don't waste your time, or your resources on things that don't matter. Let's leave those to Martha.
Till the next rant,
I don't know about you, but those little Girls Scouts in their green uniforms creep me out. Yeah, they are cute, I suppose. And yes, we all seem to have one somewhere in our family....but here is the truth: they are tiny, driven, fast talking, pig tailed, retail associates with a sales pitch, out to sell as many boxes of cookies as they and their guilt induced family members possibly can.
What is that pitch? Pretty simple, and amazingly successful.Look as adorable as you possibly can, and be as ruthless as a hungry pit bull. I try to avoid eye contact but to no avail. They don't even care if you look at them. They just want you to buy. And if you don't buy as you are entering the store, they will certainly get you as you are leaving. They scare me, they really do. I have even had them trailing behind me as I walk to the parking lot before.
Till next time,