So this is my life… Post Blogher. Post Tim Gunn. Post dinners comprised solely of vodka and fried coconut shrimp appetizers.
I’ve definitely been thrust back into reality. This morning Summer and Dylan “mistook” lip gloss for hair gel and styled their hair with a crazy amount of strawberry gloss. How exactly does one wash that out?
And Summer, who is potty training, peed all over my high heels which she just happened to be wearing. I kept yelling, “STOP PEEING!” but that’s apparently code for, “Don’t forget to spray the inside of the shoes” to a 2 1/2 year-old.
You see back in Chicago, my roommate Amy never once peed on my shoes.
I miss hanging out with my blog ladies. Probably because I just moved to Westchester and I’m a little light in the friends department.
Every morning I go to the Starbucks with Summer and I sort of hope that some cute mom and her kids will come in and she’ll be just like Wendi or Jessica or Marinka or Andrea or Ann or one of those other cool chicks. But so far – nothing. This morning there was this puffy middle aged guy eating a donut next to us but he was all, “I love my iPhone” and I was all “Donuts suck. I don’t need you to be my friend.”
I do have my gal pal Rihanna. She’s sort of a friend. If you think of a friend as a celebrity you’ll never meet (which I totally do).
According to my bible the New York Post, Rihanna and Chris Brown recently checked into the very same hotel on the very same night. Obviously, a ridiculous coincidence or a booty call.
Oh my god. What the hell was she thinking?! I never hooked up with ex-boyfriends.
Well, maybe once. Or twice. Or 40 times.
But I think the point is I never had a restraining order against any of them. I always drew the line at the restraining order.
By the way (on a topic that in no way relates to peeing on shoes or restraining orders), Rick and I can’t stop smelling the hair of those Strawberry Shortcake dolls. So worth knocking down three bloggers to grab that swag (no, not really). But those dolls do smell so fruity and magically delicious.
It’s better than being addicted to crack. Definitely.