Schmolly, Schmee, Wifeish and Schmessa. A little blurry, a lot adorable.

Schmolly arrived the Thursday before Halloween and stayed for a little over two weeks. The first weekend in November Schmee flew in from California and Schmessa arrived by train. Schmee and Schmessa stayed for about three days. It was awesome. So incredible to be in the same room with all of my best girl friends. And they got to see my house! And eat some of my favorite food! And pet my adorable bunnies! And meet my awesome (and hot) husband for the first time!

It was crazy exhausting because I stayed up until like 3 AM or so every night. I am normally in bed by ten seven days a week. This was Schmessa’s normal bed time because she works as a bottle service waitress in Hollywood and she is also a burlesque dancer and choreographer, so those things require a lot of late nights. She is an awesome dancer and I cannot wait to see one of her shows when I visit! Also, Schmessa is one of the sweetest people I know. I was so worried about her when she moved to New York City to go after her acting and dancing dreams when she was only eighteen. I was really terrified when she then moved to Los Angeles a few years later. (Probably because I grew up with my Dad telling me California was the worst place in the world to which I should have replied: “Really, Iraq doesn’t figure in there somewhere? Or what about Rwanda…I’ve heard that place sucks major balls.” Even if I had mentioned these places I am sure my Dad would still insist California was where all the dregs of society lived and one day the entire state would fall into the ocean and signal the END OF DAYS right along with the four horsemen and rivers of blood and Hillary Clinton sprouting horns and finally revealing herself to be what my father suspected her to be all along: The Anti-Christ.) But lo, she lived! And now calls Los Angeles, or more like Hollywood or West Hollywood or whatever, her home.  I couldn’t be more proud!

Schmee is the reason we all got together the summer of 2009. You know, ‘cuz she got hitched. That is obviously an understatement. She had the most beautiful wedding I have ever seen in my entire life, hands down. She got married in a giant glass cupcake in San Francisco. The glass cupcake is actually a giant botanical garden filled with misty rooms of exotic plants and every type of flower imaginable. This was the wedding where Schmolly and I had too much fun and thought we might die or be transported to another dimension filled with cartoon elephants. Or maybe that was just me…

Schmee is one of my most beautiful friends. She is intelligent and kind and is happiest when she is spending time with her adorable husband, friends and family. She keeps things simple and is one of the most unpretentious and honest people I know.  She just graduated college (Yay!!) with a degree in early childhood education. She loves children and one day will make a great mother. She cares a lot about health and gave me some great tips on how to make some healthy changes in my life. She is awesome in that she doesn’t judge me for gaining weight since high school. She just wants me to be happy and healthy. I can’t wait to visit her in San Francisco sometime, even though I get nervous about earthquakes when I am there.

I have two soul-mates it turns out, my husband and Schmolly. We are so alike and so so different. We bounce off each other like angry bees but we always come back together and find a way to agree or laugh or cry together. She is in a huge life shift right now moving from a safe, secure, boring place to an exciting, dangerous, explosive city to find her joy in life, whatever that may be. I am so proud of her and I see her for every single thing she is. Success is not measured by fame or money, but by contentment and I am sure that eventually she will be full of it. I don’t know what I would do with out her. I can’t even think of a world where she doesn’t exist.

These girls have given me so much hope and joy and inspiration to do the best I can at everything. I am so glad they are in my life and I know I can call any of them any time I need to feel inspired. I am so lucky to have them.


800 square feet of estrogen.

Beautiful flowers from Schmolly. My first hostess gift! Martha Stewart would be proud!

I am still coming down from the insane high of having three of my best friends in my *tiny* home for three days. My husband was so nice to put up with our constant chatter and girly-ness. (He was out of the house 99 percent of the time, and I don’t blame him one bit.)  It was magical and hormonal and special and exhausting.

Two of them got their periods twenty four hours after stepping through my front door. I was all like, “I did not give you permission to menstruate all over my house!! Control your ovaries, ladies, it would be the polite thing to do”. But all was well after I broke out the cheapo pinot and Midol… or was it Percocet? Maybe a fine mix of both…

We lounged by the pool, ate cheese burgers, drank wine and watched cartoons. Also, we viewed no less than four hundred episodes of Intervention and Celebrity Rehab. I watched the one where the girl got addicted to computer duster three times and laughed so hard I peed my pants a little during each viewing. Before you start calling me a monster, watch the episode and try not to giggle. This perfectly normal twenty two year old girl starts slurring “I’m waaalking on shunshine!!” while inhaling the duster bottle in the front seat of her car. Besides, Schmolly told me she recovered before I saw it. If she had died from the stuff, I probably wouldn’t have laughed as much. Probably. Oh who am I kidding? I am a monster. I’m perfectly fine with that.

But what about hiking? Didn’t I take my friends hiking for gorgeous desert views and cactus sightings? This is winter in Arizona, after all. Perfect hiking and biking weather. Yeah. Uh…no. All we wanted to do was eat, watch awesome reality television and catch up on hometown gossip. Fuck the beautiful outdoors.

So I am working on some things to post, sorry I have been such a bad bloggist (yeah, bloggist is a word. I prefer it to blogger. I’m dumb, so what?) but I hope to get back to more hilarious anecdotes and whimsical quips soonsies.

Here is one of my favorite photos of the trip. Chinese Mexican food exists. And it is awesome.

Schmolly and Schmessa chowing down on Chino Bandido sweet and sour chicken quesadillas.

More details to come. Thanks for all of your patience!




Sobering up.

Hey everyone, I just had some guests over for a couple of weeks…I will tell you all about it, but right now I am just trying to sober up after all the fun we had. I can’t believe they are gone. I couldn’t help but cry when Schmolly told me she was leaving.

As I write this I can hear my ghetto ass neighbor upstairs having some sort of terrible 90’s hip hop convention, so I’m gonna go hit the ceiling with a broom handle for a while and see if it doesn’t improve the noise. I just fucking love apartment living sometimes. I can never tell if my neighbors are doing aerobics, moving furniture, or just plain beating the shit out of each other. And who doesn’t love the smell of pot smoke filling their apartment because the vent connects directly to my neighbor’s laundry room/ hotbox?

Help me help you.

Squishy, knitted Prozac pills. Only sixteen bucks by Butterfly Love.

Maybe I have been a little angry and irritable lately. Okay, let’s get real here. I have been a cranky raving bitch for the past couple of weeks. Whatever, PMS, it happens, but really I tried to keep my misery mostly to myself. I didn’t think my husband had noticed.

But I guess he had…

So the other night my husband casually asked me if I had taken my “medicine”, aka my craaaazy pills.

That poor bastard.

I turned to him, working up my best insane glare, and said in the perkiest, most manic voice imaginable:

“Oh, you mean the pill I take to prevent me from strangling you? The little pink one? In the red bottle? Because I don’t think you’re talking about aspirin here. Here’s a tip so you don’t have to ask me this in the future. You can tell I took it this morning because I haven’t attempted to choke you all day. You would know if I hadn’t taken it, due to all the breathing trouble and neck bruises you would have…”

Six years and no strangled husband yet. Let’s hope they don’t change the formula.


This about sums it up. Lovely little badge by Baymoon Studios. Only a buck!

Hey everyone. Sorry for the absence. I could be all over dramatic about it and hint at personal situations that I just cannot talk about on the internet, or whatever that have kept me away.

(By the way, I hate it when bloggists do that. Don’t hint at some big juicy secret personal gossip and then just leave me hanging, wondering if you are getting a divorce or having a kid or just won the lottery and then come back and tell me it was a big decision to decorate your home office.)

But I’m not.

I’m just gonna put it right on out there.

I have had raging PMS. For like, two weeks. So I wasn’t in the mood to write. I started a post, but it was pretty depressing and hateful ranting about the world’s suffering and how much I hate watching the news, so I thought I would wait until my hormones simmered down just a tad.

They are still at a low boil. It might be a few more days for a decent story.

Fucking badass magnet by Simply Cute. A steal for only six bucks.

So…there is this thingy where WordPress will tell you what people typed into google to get to your page.

Here are a few examples.

Search Views
girl peed pull-ups story 2
peed herself stories 1
peed her 1
story pee pant 1
pee pants high school 1
best friend peeing 1
“peed her pants” 1
pee pants park 1

Holy shit, people really like stories about peeing in your pants. Well, lucky for them there are more to come. Many more.

Why do I have to resort to such base content in order to keep my readers interested?

Because I don’t have kids.

I, unfortunately, am not a Mommy Blogger.

In fact, I am having a hard time finding blogs written by women who are married (or not) who don’t have children. Unless they are super specific, like about fashion or fitness or politics or whatever. Mine is just sort of about my life and being married in lieu of a sitcom based on my life.

Which would be hilarious, starting with the fact that the person playing me would be kind of chubby and “TV ugly” which really means pretty, but not annorexic ala America Ferrara and the person playing my husband would be super hot. The exact opposite of every other fucking sitcom out there…I’m talking to you “About Jim”.Tell me that show has been cancelled by now!

So, instead of writing about how my kids smeared poop on the wall, pissed their pants in the carpool or puked green stuff on my freshly washed comforter, I have to talk about how that one time I got stuck in a swing and peed all over a stranger, at the age of sixteen. Or that time last year when I thought I was shitting my pants, but really I was just tripping balls.

So some people may think I am a tad bit gross and shout, “TMI much???” when they read this little bloggity blog, but I don’t think my little disgusting stories are any more gnarly than when Mommy Bloggers talk about dirty diapers or spoiled breast milk stains.

P.S. I loves me some Mommy Blogs. Just because I don’t have a little poop machine doesn’t mean I don’t think well written stories about the horrors and joys of motherhood aren’t entertaining as hell. But what about all of us non Mommy Bloggers?

This cookie jar would look fab in my bathroom. Under 70 bones by Fruit Fly Pie.

6 PM at the Casa de la Wifeish.

Esposo: Uh…I found a half eaten cookie on the bathroom counter…thoughts?

Me: Oh. Yeah I was eating that for breakfast, but I must have put in down and lost it because I was in a hurry.

Esposo: You were eating breakfast, a cookie, in the bathroom. Tell me you weren’t…

Me: Yep. It’s called multitasking, sir. Just throw it away if it grosses you out.

Esposo: (mouth full of cookie) Not necessary.