I got dressed the other morning. Felt put together. Ran out the door. Jumped in the car. And lost my breath.

Super cute outfit though so I’m forced to suffer next time I wear this.

– Posted from my iPhone

There is no reason to drive your kid to school in a robe and slippers. There is no reason to wear your fucking bright red pajama bottoms to take your kid into school. It looks retarded. Get up 2 minutes early, throw on some sweats, jeans, a moomoo, whatever and go.

Clearly these people got out of bed, got in the car and left. If I did that I’d get arrested! You see, I sleep naked.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to lounge around in pajama bottoms. Clearly. It was my gift to me. Aside from walking to my hot tub or taking out the trash, I put on pants when I leave my property.

This all stems from my college days. Victoria’s Secret was the hot spot to shop as a college kid. They always had great deals and cute things. However there were girls at my school that would wear pajamas to class. Sure, they resembled outfits…shorts and a loungy top. But it looked retarded. Mainly because I wore them to bed. And they were always those floral designs that shouldn’t be a pattern on any decent outfit. On top of it, these girls would try to dress them up a bit with leather flats and big fucking hair bows. (It was the early 90’s in So Cal.)

So really, do yourself a favor. Lounge in pajamas at home. But put on casual clothes when you go out in public. Or you’ll look ridiculous and probably end up in www.peopleofwalmart.com. I’ll be the first to take a picture and turn your ass in.

It should be noted that I do NOT hate people who do this. I simply hate what these people do. BIG difference.

So, like most mornings, I needed her opinion as I was racing out the door for work.

Me: Does this blouse show too much for work?
Elle: No mom. It looks fine.
Me: [kneeling down so my cleavage was at Elle's eye level] Are you sure?
Elle: Yes mom. You look cute.

As a female with a rack, what I see when looking down always looks more revealing than the view from the front.

So we left the house.

Once I got to the office, I caught a glimpse of this shirt in a reflection. Here’s what I saw:

Either my kid was in a rush and wanted to get to school, thought I changed professions or needs glasses.

I’m completely thankful for safety pins. This one saved my career. Or at least, my reputation. (But probably ruined my reputation of having a little style.)

Well I wore one. And I kind of liked it.

But the reason I liked may have secretly been because I felt strong like my mom always looked. But without the large gold plated jewelry while walking across shag carpet (not a euphemism).

– Post From My iPhone

 I eagerly opened the bag and tore off the tissue paper. This is what I discovered…

Turns out someone I work with brought me a gift all the way from Hawaii. This person knew of my coconut obsession which would explain the gift. However I wonder if they were aware of my other obsession…boobs. Well not any boobs. Just mine.

Would it be rude to ask for bigger coconuts and a grass skirt? The sexy coconut device is better suited for a B/C cup plus I’ll need a grass skirt to make the outfit complete. Or better yet, I won’t risk being rude and I’ll use them as two giant pina colada cups. Umbrella straws anyone?

Most people monitor their weight using the standard measures. They don’t work for me. Here’s why:

I monitor my weight but I’m forced to use untraditional methods since it is clear that the above approaches don’t work for my wise little big ass.

I have a dress. The dress isn’t made of stretchy material. It is fitted. And when I wear it to work I am forced to wear it all day long. So when it feels snug, I am required to face the truth. And the truth makes me do crazy things…like eat a salad for lunch.

Here’s the dress.
Disregard the sign on my ass.
If you must know, it is a reserved sign.

But let’s face it…I don’t cook. Apparently I shouldn’t do other domestic chores either. Specifically LAUNDRY. 

LESSON: When you smell bleach, take it seriously. The cupboard above the washing machine is where I kept mine.

I do laundry all the time. Glamorous, I know! There is often a load in the washing machine, even if I’m at work. It gets dried when it’s convenient for me. So long as it doesn’t stink like mildew, I’m happy.

Well if you have a leaky bleach bottle stored above the washing machine with a load sitting the washer…YOU’RE SCREWED.

I lost my favorite workout pants, a pair of jeans, a fitted sheet (found in the dryer from an earlier load of laundry)…

This bleached out mess was caused by a slow drip into the washing machine where the load of laundry sat while I lazily ignored it.

And while I was cleaning up that mess and taking photos, guess what happened. Yep…another load ruined. Two duvet covers and 4 pillow cases.

There are no pictures of that catastrophe since I was in tears. I saw $800 worth of bedding fall apart in my hands. All because of a $2.00 bottle of bleach with a hole in the bottom.

I pay for cable, yet my television is rarely turned on.  I buy books, yet I rarely make the time to read them. I have magazine subscriptions, yet I rarely get to flip through the pages.

I find myself spending way too much time on my computer. I can waste hours of time each evening on my laptop. So I decided to spend an evening reading for a change.  And when I say reading, I mean reading something printed on paper and not on my computer screen.

As I looked through my stack of reading material I selected a fashion magazine. Naturally I picked the oldest edition in my stack with the intention of catching up to May soon.

Then I realized my computer addiction will crush my fashion sense. Seriously ruin it. Think about it. I’ll be wearing clothes now that were featured as fashionable to the rest of the world months ago. 

However I will be: caught up on all my online friends’ blogs, current on my Twitter account, updated on Facebook and up to speed on all my emails.  All while wearing a turtle neck and knee high leather boots tucked into skinny legs jeans…in the heat of summer.

Before airing my dirty laundry I should share a little more background. My professional life is just that…professional.  I’m an executive for a company and it is expected that I dress professionally. Bottom line, most days I wear a suit to work. 

Which brings me to taking off my clothes. (No, not that way, you sicko.) On any given day, it is almost guaranteed that someplace on my outfit you can find a safety pin. They are hidden inside the clothes and always serve a purpose. Safety pins work great to cinch the waist on slacks that are too big. They’re also great to mend a hole on the seam. Kinda like sewing without a needle and thread.

The morale of this story. Don’t ever ask to borrow a safety pin from me.  Chances are I’ve got one. But do you really want my hole to show or my pants to fall off? I didn’t think so.

At dinner I noticed two hot older women. I tried to sneak a photo of them but it was a leopard print blur. You know how hard it is to inconspicuously walk with phone in front of your face trying to aim at moving targets? They were both older with blonde hair. Both had arthritis (okay huge fake boobs), artificial nails, super tanned, tight clothes and sitting at a table with three younger men. The women were hot, the men were hotter.

Which leads me to the cougar scare. Urban Dictionary describes a cougar as an attractive woman in her 30’s or 40’s who is on the hunt for a younger man.

Even Barbie is known to have cougaresque tendencies:

Rather than worry and get my fake boobs removed, or go back to my natural dirty blonde hair I’ve decided to take another route. I won’t wear tight animal print shirts, prey on younger men, or get artificial nails.

If I ever forget, you have my permission to withhold wine until I come to my senses again. Trust me, this says a lot.

Ever get dressed and all you can think about is stripping down? (Not because of that, you dirty minded people). Those are the outfits that ruin my mood. Like a lightweight skirt on a windy day. For those of you who follow my tweets, you know I wore that skirt up by my ears when walking downtown on a windy day. Two men were scarred for life with that surprising view of my ass. Yeah, it was a day I forgot to wear panties. Don’t expect pictures of that one.

Yesterday I cheered myself up by wearing something that made me smile. It lightened my mood. Also note that it is February and we’re living in the midst of snow storms and frigid weather. And I didn’t wear an ounce of black. That’s unheard of really.

Well I’m off…
to buy clothes that put a smile on my face.

…until I showed up to work.  I stepped off the elevator and walked past the reception desk.  Naturally I wondered why they hadn’t put out the money jar for our donations to wear jeans.  Yeah, we do that cool charitable stuff every other Friday.  Then I walked past the all glass boardroom which was filled with managers.  They glanced at me and some heads turned.  Whatever, I thought it was a good hair day so I assumed they also thought the same.  I walked around the corner and it dawned on me.  I wore jeans.  Nobody else did.  Oops.  HR people can’t get away with those errors as easily.

Then I run out to lunch to meet some Twitter folks.  Found a parking spot on the street 1 block away.  I patiently waited for the lady on her cell phone to pull out so I could pull in.  Honestly I think she was power hungry because it took her FOREVER to pull out of that parking spot.  But whatever.  I jumped out of my car and looked at the blinking hungry 30 minute parking meter.  Thirty minutes…who parks for such a short time. Realizing I was out of change I chanced it.  One hour later I returned to a car with no ticket. 

So even though life can be complicated and feel like it’s not going our way, we should still enjoy it.  Because sometimes we get perks others don’t…like wearing jeans to work when nobody else can and get free street parking.

Proven: she is adorable.  She called me today and said she had a little surprise.  My jeans were done!  I practically kissed her over the phone. With tongue.

I recommend Abby’s Alterations!  Maxi is the owner, who wears stylish designer jeans herself.