Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Sex it Up~ Happy Thanksgiving!

Soooo, my hair conditioner says, "Sex it Up" something-or-other. I thought well, good grief, it's hair conditioner. It's really not a condom. But it seems to sell. I mean, I bought it.

In the spirit of TGI products everywhere and The 1950's Atomic Ranch House, who's blog I just adore:

Happy Thanksgiving
to all of you sexy babies out there!

(Honestly, I hope you have a wonderful holiday.)

And I have some great news to tell you about when:
(1) The overload of turkey and pumpkin pie has worn off. And thank you in advance, Postman!
(2) I'm back from "glamping". You know glamping? It's like camping only with glamour added, therefore, "glamping."

Yes, yes, I will take pictures for you.

I even have these silly eyelash extensions now, which is going to be just fabulous when I wake up and have to seperate my long plumes with a damn toothpick! That's attractive.

And it's essential you bring along a Dust Buster and you must put several rugs down in your tent; as the objective is to not let any dirt, or any nature, actually touch you at any time.
Ooooh, the great outdooors!


  1. 'T has long been true that if you put the word "sex" or any implication thereof on any consumer product, people will buy it, because they'll believe it'll make them sexy.

    You, however, could pull it off. Regardless. So sex it up, ma'am, and have a great Thanksgiving.

    And have fun glamping. I should try that sometime. I think we got a few pebbles and dirt clods in the tent at the Grand Canyon.

    P.S. I think we also need pictures of these fabled eyelash extensions.

  2. I'm here catching up on my blog reading. Happy Sunday!

  3. Postman,

    Glamping with fake eyelashes was a very bad idea. No mater how much I muttered: sex, sex, sex! my lashes still clumped up and looked like... well, I'm trying really hard not to say the "s" word anymore. But, be a dear and say it for me, k?

  4. I forgot to comment on this post before Thanksgiving, so now I can't say "Happy Thanksgiving." I can only say I hope it was happy. Not the same.

    How long do eyelash extensions last, exactly?

  5. Polly,

    Aww, you are so sweet! Thank you. How was your Thanksgiving? Did the girls enjoy it? Did Emma bake anything? Did Eliana? I bet it was stunning as you really know how to cook.

    I brought a green bean cassarole but geez, it was rail thin in my big 'ole pan! But I didn't burn it so that's always a plus.

    Eyelashes last? Well, that was a big freaking mistake!

    They were supposed to last for two weeks and Tiffany told me, "No pulling! No yanking!"

    They drove me insane!

    Tiffany didn't say anything about squeezing and sliding.

    I took cold cream and rubbed and rubbed until they all came off.

    Ewww, it looked as though I had steel wool glued to my eyeballs. EWWW.

    I got the wrong kind. I will not get them again. Big mistake. And even bigger mistake to go glamping with them. Oh, the misery.

    Think of them as an expensive Brillo Pad for your eyes. Bleh.

  6. Oh my God - that sounds horrible!

    I'm terrible at all that girly stuff - I got fake fingernails once and ended up biting them off within a week. I hated the whole experience of getting and having them.

  7. Sex sex sex sex sex sex...

    Hey. Now MY eyelashes are unclumping.

    Sorry the glamping didn't go as well as planned. But you are now forewarned for next time! You must find an eyelash-extension-friendly glamping spot! Or else give them up entirely. The Brillo pad reference made me wince.

  8. Oh, and Pollinatrix...I'm actually kind of glad you feel that way. I don't much like fake fingernails (on girls) myself. I think my low opinion of them was sealed when I was about eight years old and at the supermarket with Ma and our cashier was this woman who had, like, I don't know, five-inch-long ones. Bone-white. I almost thought she had claws. Seeing her tap the keys with them was almost enough to give me nightmares.

  9. Postman and Polly,

    Yes. We will all agree to boycott girly, girly stuff. We are grossed out. We can't deal with you anymore.

    My dad used to tell me, "Well, she was a babe until she unscrewed her false leg, took off her eyelashes, her pushup bra, her wig, fake padding in her butt, and popped out her glass eye.."

    "Daddy, why do you have to talk to me like that? That's disgusting."

    My memory was of this teller at our bank, when I was about five, who flirted with my father in the drive through. It was the first time I felt jealousy. Even then, I could throw her a left hook that she'd feel in the morning.

    Sure, she gave me a sucker, and I did lick it, but it wasn't the same.

  10. I like your dad. I like him very much. I, too, received suckers from bank tellers, but at least none of them had nails like a jungle cat. Yes, giving a sucker a licking isn't the same thing as...well, a left hook.