Cut The Lights Off

Blech.  Monday.  How brutal could you possibly be?  Once again, my glutenintolerancemiserables are back in my stomach and show no signs of getting the eff away from me.  I am about thisclose to de-horning a unicorn and using it to shove it through my belly button in hopes that would cure it.  But then all I would be doing is giving another horse to the world...Not only that but I already have one ill-advised hole in my belly button (shut your face with that sideeye!  It was 1999 and Britney was at the top of the charts with "One More Time." If you try to tell me that you never had your belly button pierced or at least thought about it, I will call you a boldfacedliar...At least I don't have a tramp stamp)

Wearing: Shorts: 7 For All Mankind.  Shoes: Aldo.  Blazer & Shirt: H&M. 

So, here is the deal.  I ate a banana this weekend and now my stomach has been aching ever since.  I swear on every rainbow ever created that I think I am allergic to bananas.  They make me double up in pain and then bloat my gut out and give me mayjahbuttpee.  Why does this happen?  Is this a food allergy or am I just destined to subsist on pickles, cheese sticks, greek yogurt, sugar free red bull, wine, and baby carrots?  Which actually, sounds like an amazing diet to me.  I was talking to my dad about this and he said that I have had a stomach ache my entire life.  It's very true, I have had more days of stomach pain than not, in my life.  I tried being a vegetarian and a vegequarian for 10 years...Not only was I a total chubbalubb and built like a Hershey Kiss, my stomach was in the worst condition ever.  I have tried no gluten and as much gluten as I can handle without turning into a loaf of bread.  When I told my family I was gluten intolerant and couldn't eat pasta, it was as if the world no longer made sense.  I told this to my Grandpa and he was talking to me about dinner (at 10am) and told him I couldn't eat spaghetti and he said, "Ok, I will make ziti."  If anyone has any insight to how to make my stomach not hurt me after most meals I eat, I am all for it.  Also, has anyone done a juice diet?  I am super interested in this, but at the same time, a little worried that it will make me be better friends with my toilet than I already am.  

Don Johnson's Latin Love Child.

Angie

What Is Making You Smile Thursday

What's good in the hood peeps?  Look, I know that I shouldn't make fun of people with drinking problems but, Pat Sajack came out today saying that he used to be ishcannedhammered while he hosted Wheel of Fortune. Saying he and Vanna used to have 4 margs before they started spinning the wheel and flipping over letters.  Hey Pat, I'd like to buy a B, an H, and an A.  Bahahhahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!  Dude brings Big Beer Lunch to a whole other level.  I don't know about y'all but I used to watch The Wheel pretty much every day.  I love that show, but now, I love it even more.  So, today's WIMYST is brought to you by drunkass Pat.

I'm also about 35.6% positive that Pat and Vanna weren't the only ones getting their gangsta lean on during the show.  Here are some great contestants I found for your review.

Dangling On Air Jordans?  That what she said.

Get it Pat!  We have all been there...Most of us have just never done it at work...Which was nationally televised.

RSTLNE,

Angie

Just Throw It In The Bag

Hey Princess.  How is everyone this Wednesday?  Good?  Good!  I have a new outofthisworldamazing outfit post coming for all you sparklegemawesome funstars tomorrow.  I am just waiting on the photos.  I promise that it will be worth the wait.  In the meantime, I thought I would let you all into my purse like a bunch of pick-pocketers.  Here is the embarrassing truth, the things I keep in my bag is borderline ridiculous. Did you expect anything less?  Below is the rundown of what I sling around The City on the regz. I have to admit, I feel like I just grab a bunch of items from around the house before I walk out the door so that I am not walking around with an empty purse.  

- Bag: Chloe large studded duffel, which was a beyond fabulous and generous gift.  I love it and it feels like buttah.  If I could, I would crawl into this bag and live there.

- iPad2: for reading things like: Mindy Kaling and Steve Jobs' biography on the train.  (JK, I am totally reading Twitter on the train.)

- iPhone Case/Wallet: Michael Kors.  This is from The Mister and was purchased because I am the queen of losing my ID and credit cards, however I nevereverever lose my phone.  Now I have no excuses because these things are all now in one place.

- Three different kinds of lip gloss: Glow by Smashbox, Deelight Cremesheen Lipglass by MAC, and something called Ballmania (that's what she said).  Why in the name of Britney, I need three semi clear lipglosses, I have no idea.

- Two hair clips.

- Keys, which I typically lose at least once a week.

- Clipper card, which makes the next item totally stupid

- MUNI citation for non payment of a train ticket.  [enter sad trombone sound here].  That's right, friendlies...I had a really strong opinion that paying for public transportation in SF is el stupido, considering the crap I have to deal with on a daily basis.  Crap is defined as: being assaulted by horrid smells, drunk hobos, trash, people on their can game, heavy breathers, and the occasional public self gratifier.  I honestly thought that the city of San Francisco owed me some free rides.  Well that all ended the other day when I got a $75 ticket for forgetting to tag my Clipper card.  I was shaking as the glorified meter maid wrote me my citation, and asked if I had ever gotten a ticket before.  I told her not for anything this boomboom.  

BUSTED!

Angie

Year of The Dragon

Is it just me, or is there a lot of "dragon" going on lately?  First there was  "Enter The Dragon", "The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo", then there was this chick, and now it's the year of The Dragon.  Of course, this may not be as big of a deal in other parts of the US, but it's a very festive time around these parts.  Honestly, we San Franciscans needed something fun to focus on after that heart breaking loss that the Niners suffered last night.  I am still bummed out and I am left wanting to wear lots of red, go to a sketchball restaurant in Chinatown and watch the parade and fireworks.  

Wherever you are, I hope you enjoy enough Chinese takeout to make your stomach hurt and make you feel guilty about it.

Angie

What Is Making You Smile Thursday

This What Is Making You Smile Thursday is brought to you by the word compromise. Compromise?  Yes, bizzle, compromise.  You see, here is the deal.  Y'all know how much I L-O-V-Esittinginatree my jet black hair.  I was born with black hair and aside for a summer in 2003, when I bleached my hair white in certain places, my hair has always been black.  Scratch that, I am lying like a dog, I prematurely grayed when I was 15 (thank you mother) so, my natural hair color now is 50-70% gray.  So we will call my hair "black". My momma's hair is "black" and as she so eloquently says: "Honey, God created l'oreal hair color for a reason." To which I asked: "Momma, what is that reason?"  She then quickly told me: "Sweetie, I gave you skin that will never wrinkle or break out, hair color tricks the world into thinking you are as young as your skin looks."  My mother is a true GRITS and a freaking genius with words, and much like myself, having a conversation with the two of us is like trying to taking a sip of water from a fire hose.  My mom's hair color philosophy makes perfect sense to me.  I subscribe to it, and faithfully get my hair colored every 4-6 weeks.  Here is where the compromise comes into play and why my mom will let out an audible sigh, put her hand on her hip, and shake her head when she sees the following picture:  

Wearing: Jacket: Vintage via: Poshmark. Jeans: Citizens of Humanity.  Necklace: Stella & Dot.  Handbag: Gifted Chloe.

That's right y'all, I ombre'd my hair.  Actually it's in the process of being ombre'd. My stylist made me stop at a certain point because she was concerned my hair would fall out.  My eyes got to the size of saucers when she said that to me.  You may be wondering why I got this wild hair up my ass to do something so drastic to my hair.  Well, that is where compromise comes into play.  The Mister put a bug in my ear a couple of months ago to lighten my hair.  To which I promptly sideeyed him and shot down that idea.  My biggest fear in lightening my hair is that I will look either like this or Drita: 



But then something amazing happened and Salma Hayeck showed up to the Golden Globes with a perfectly executed version of a black and light brown ombre', and I had to make it happen.  Because as I reasoned with myself, it's going to make The Mister happy, and it's just hair.  I can go back to black like Amy Winehouse whenever I want if I don't like it.  I am going back on Monday to get it finished, so the effect will be less black and rorange and more black and peanut butter.  So far I like it, even if I was given explicit instruction not to let my hair "get wet, wash it, or put any hot tools to it until you get your skinnyass back in here on Monday."  Why fortheloveofbritney not?  "Because your hair could break and fall out."  ZOMGZOMGZOMGZOMG.  So, I am hanging out indoors until rainpocolypse 2012 is over, for fear that if my hair gets wet, I am going to look like Diana Ross on a bender and not be able to do anything about it.   

So, besides my amazeballs hair, the other thing that is making me smile is that my interwebs fame has gotten so huge that my vernacular is now fodder for the foodies.  You read that right.  Apparently the sparklegemawesomeness of "unicorn poop" has become so major that some genius has created a unicorn poop cookie.  So, you know...You're welcome.  

Via: Instructables

Taste The Rainbow.

Angie

What You Need?

Hello People.  Happy Wednesday all up in your beautiful face.  Y'all it's freezingfreakingcold in NorCal right now.  People are scraping ice off their cars and I am wearing rabbit fur exclusively.  What I really hate about this time of year is the uncontrollable shivering and the fact that as soon as you step outside, you wonder why you even bothered shaving your legs because it's all grown back and you look like a Kardashian again.  Naturally, I have seen this as an excuse to buy more clothes.  Here is what I am in the market for right now to get me through the rest of my least favorite time of year.  

What do you need to get through the next couple of months of bundling up?  Hang in there kittycat, soon we will all be basking in that Summer sun...Promisepromise.

Eskimo Kisses.

Angie

The Saddestmostbittersweet Story Ever Told (Photo Heavy)

Hi friendlies.  How is everyone this Tuesday?  Enough with the pleasantries, it's confession time.  You see, I haven't been very forthright with y'all about something.  There are a couple of reasons I haven't talked about this yet on the blog, but the most important reason was that I just wasn't ready to talk about it yet.  I still am not really ready to talk about it, but hopefully this will help.    I will warn you all now, if you came here to laugh your face off today, I am probably not going to meet that need in your life today.  So if you have the sadmadblahs and have been listening to Adele for the past 10 days and are coming to me to get you out of the funk, it ain't gonna happen today, so head on over to Ghetto Hikes and get your fix.  

My first holiday with Ziggy.  Thanksgiving 2008.  He was 10 weeks old and 32 lbs in this photo.

For those of you still around, bear with me for one post.  So, here is the deal...A lot has been happening in my world over the past few weeks.  A big thing is that we moved.  Most of you probably don't know that San Francisco has a brutal rental market right now.  With vacancies at only 3%, landlords have seen this as an opportunity for highway robbery.  We looked for apartments for 2 months, and saw the best the city had to offer as well as the most horrid.  Finally we found a beautiful, brand new place that didn't want $7,000 and my left ovary to move in, but there was one hitch.  No dogs allowed. So, I had to make an adult decision.  Do I live in the perfect apartment for us and give up Ziggy, or do I keep Bubb and move to an apartment by myself?  The Mister and I talked for a long time about this and what I finally had to accept was, I am never home and Ziggy deserves a better life than sleeping in my bed and entertaining the SF tour guides from Mister Toads Wild Ride.  Phone calls were made, friends were reached out to and, I was put in touch with someone in our extended family who actually breeds Olde English Bulldogges.  (Much to The Bengal Tigers' dismay, I kept Ziggy in tact, so, him and his red rocket were going to be happy about this.)  

Me and silliest of the sillies

So, I am sure some of you are sitting there sideeyeing me and wondering how I could give up my teenytinypuppy.  Listen, jerkfaces, this wasn't easy.  I am deadcereal having a hard time with this still and cry every single day about it because, I miss my boy so much.  Putting him in that truck and kissing him goodbye for the foreseeable future was the most heart-wrenching and difficult thing I have ever done.  When I called my dad and talked to him about it (in hysterics) he said: "just wait until you have to put me into a nursing home, that will be just as difficult." to which I replied: "You call that helping, what is wrong with you?  Now I am crying even harder!!!!"

So, I had to have a conversation with Zig and explain to him what was going to happen.  It was really sad and it went like this:

Me: Hi bubb

Zig: Hi Mom, I love you.  You are the best mom ever and I just want to tell you that I love you and Dad so much.  Thank you for letting me sleep in da bed and for all the cuddles you give me every day.  

Me: (hysterical) OMG.  I will be right back.  (I then left the room, cried and came back.)

Me: OK, Zig.  I have to tell you something.  It's not going to be good news.

Zig:  Yeah, look, I am really sorry about eating both your Coach and Louis Vuitton purses yesterday.  

Me:  You did what?!

Zig: Nothing.

Me:  You A-hole!!! OK, look bubbies, we are going to move and you can't come with us.

Zig: WHAT!  My face must have melted into my ears again because I don't think I heard you correctly.

Me:  I found a place for you to go to and you can play with other puppies and have sex with bitches and be a daddy.

Zig:  Sex with bitches?  Ziggy in!  

Me: Yup.

Zig:  Well, I am going to miss you every day for the rest of my life, but I really want to be a dad.

Me:  I love you Ziggy.

Ziggy:  I love you too mom.

Ziggy showing us his skills of acting like a pancake after eating a bowl of meatballs and sauce

So, here is my plan:  There is a loophole here in Frisco that if you have a letter from your doctor stating that you have anxiety and need your dog to calm your highstrungass out, your landlord has to let you keep your dog.  So, I have proved to myself and everyone else that not only do I have separation anxiety from Zig-a-ligg, but he is my bestgoodfriend and inspiration in my life. 

There is good news in this story though, Ziggy has already got his freak on and has a litter on the way.  God willing and the creek don't rise, I will be a Nonna by late April.  And when that happens, I will go see my bubb and Cruella DeVille him and all his preciousaspie puppies.  I will keep y'all posted on Ziggy and him being a daddy.  In the meantime, here are some of my favorite photos of bubb-a-lubb through the years.

After moving to SF in 2009.

Beach boodog.  

"Look mom, I a cat."  "No Ziggy, you are an 85 lb bulldog."

Super Zig at 4 months old. He will always be my little super hero.

Napping in the Bay window, waiting for the tour buses to come by

Sir Zigglesworth

The poop heard round the agency world.  This one act got Ziggy banned from his second ad agency in 2 years.

The bubbiest of the bubbs.

Zigg begging me to give him meatballs.  Meatballs are his favorite thing in the whole wide world.

This is my most favorite picture of me and my boy.  Always has been, always will be, momma's boy.

Ziggy's Mom.

Angie

What's Making You Smile Thursday

Hello petite bebe's.  I am two days away from launching my project with work, so this is going to be quick and to the point.  It's What's Making You Smile Thursday and here are the two things that made me smile today.  Hopefully they will  make you smile as well.

I don't ever talk about politics on here because A: Opinions are like aholes, everyone has them and they all stink.  B: You come here to hear me talk about BJSpears not BHObama...However, I will break the rule this one time, because here he is being a Little Monster.  Put your paws up Mr. President, because you were born this way baby!

OK, and to round the day out, these eels slay me!  They always look like they just told a joke and are waiting for a laugh. Ehhh?  Ehhh?  Come on.  You know it's funny.

Image Via: BuzzFeed.

I know the feeling Mister Eel. 

Crickets.

Angie

Just A Little Bit

Hi sugarboogers. Happy Hump Day to you freaks.  I have to tell you something.  My hair hurts.  I know this is totally some #ishgirlssay but I am deadcereal, my hrrr hurts today.  Did I ever tell you about the time that I had a big bun rocking on top of my bird magnet and Antione Meriweather ran up on me like a donkey with a stick of dynamite up his ass, and yanked my bun, and nearly gave me freaking whiplash, while screaming :"Trrrrriiiiiiiicccccckkkkkk, give me your weave!" To which I turned around and nearly knocked his brintneylovinblockoff and was all "Biiiiiaaaa, that is my real  hair!  Touch it again and I will revoke your membership to the SF Chapter of the Britney Spears Sparkle Club, and break all the heels off your shoes." Mind you, this all happened at work.  

Oh what's that? You figured out I have nothing to talk to you about today?  If you have deduced that, then Sherlock, you are correct. I am about thisclose to launching a website for work and it is sucking the sparkle from my bones. So, what I am going to do is what I always do and cop out with some fun things. 

First up:  Santina and I celebrated Maria's birthday with her.

 I channeled Carrie Bradshaw and felt sparklegemawesome about it.  

Wearing: Dress: Poshmark, Shoes: Aldo.  Belt: BCBG.  Bracelets: Brighton and Gold & Citrus.

We also hung out with what was either T-Pain's Grandparents or a methhead family.  Either way, there was dancing with a cane and the worlds biggestsaggyweird boobs I have ever seen in my LIFE involved!  I am really not sure what that was all about, but it has been burned into my retinas and I am not happy about it.

Also, there was a lot of bling going on.  Once again, we look like the Mighty Morphin Power Bloggers.

Lastly,  this is your new theme song for your life.  Your welcome.

Autotuned.

Angie

"Stolen"

Oh hiya party people.  Guess what?  It's story time round here today. Which is the bestgood news I could ever give, because apparently y'all fools like my stories, which is fine by me, because I love telling a story.  (I hope you read that last sentence in a deep Southern drawl like an old woman talking about her stories).  I digress.  Y'all know by blogger BFFFFFFFL Joanna.  She is amazing and we love her around THYMWYA.  Well Friday was my little booboo's 29th birthday.  She's almost all grownsd up.  As she was planning her perfect Mad Men-esque 60's theme birthday party, she told me that her car had been stolen.  Happyeffinbirthday.  Here are the texts that we exchanged prior to her party (I have cleaned them up quite a bit for mixed company)

ME: DUDE!  Your car was stolen?  WTH! 

JOANNA: Yeah.  Major bummer but my car was super old at least.

ME: Hopefully no bums are using it as a sex room.  That would piss me off.

JOANNA:  Great!  If anyone has done anything weird in it, I don't want it back. 

Hey gurrrrl

Following are Joanna's words with my commentary in parenthetical bold...Because that's what I do, YO!

"It all started on Thursday night. After drinks with friends, I come home to find my car keys are missing. Luckily a roommate is home, so she lets me in and I assume (hope) I must have dropped them out of my purse at work. (we all have been there, friend) I borrow an extra key and don't think too much about it.

Friday night. I get home from a wonderful birthday dinner and leave to go pick up my boyfriend. I go down to my street and can't find my car. I quickly scan the blocks around my house, thinking I must have forgotten where I parked it. Panic slowly creeps in. I call my boyfriend and ask him if he remembers where I parked last. He says what I was hoping he wouldn't say--that I parked it right across the street--where there's a blank space. Oye (yiddish for I shat out a unicorn) . I keep looking, just in case. I finally concede that unless my car took itself for a drive, it is indeed stolen. My boyfriend comes over and we call the non-emergency number for the SFPD. Eventually two officers show up at my door. They ask for the year, make, and model of my car. I tell them other identifying characteristics, such as the broken side mirror and the Louisiana Brake tags, which they neglect to write down. The whole thing reminds me of that scene in the Big Lebowsi where he asks the cops if they have any leads yet on his stolen car, and the cop says, "I'll just check with the boys down at the crime lab. They've got us working in shifts" and then bursts into laughter (I wouldn't hold out for The Credence either).

Saturday morning, I post the following message on Facebook: "Car stolen from outside my house. Happy birthday to me." This, understandably, results in a barrage of "oh, that sucks," and "I can't believe this happened on your birthday" comments. I revel in the thought of how many people feel sorry for me right now and that I don't even really feel sorry for myself! I'm taking it all so well! I'm a pillar of strength!  (she is also a famewhore, which is why we get along so well)

Meanwhile I start to think about the lost key/stolen car connection. Even though it seems far-fetched that someone just happened to be walking by, found my keys, saw my car, and was willing to commit grand theft auto, I decide it's better to be safe than sorry. What if they saw me drop them and know where I live?! I call a locksmith to get our locks changed. Cost: $200 (we talked about this for a good 20 minutes on Saturday night.  We were all creeped out)

Fast forward again to Monday. I take the bus to work. I'm resolved to my fate, that of a carless city dweller who has to hump groceries up the hill and sign up for Zip cars 3 weeks in advance. (welcome to my life) Even friends say that losing my car, although inconvenient, is probably for the best since I'd get more insurance money for it than I could sell it for. I'm already researching used cars, thinking it might be high time for a sub-compact hatchback. A Honda fit, maybe. Or a Nissan Versa. (bahahahahahaha, you would totally look like a turtleturd) Whatever it is, I want it to be tiny, fuel efficient, and it will DEFINITELY have a club affixed to the steering wheel at all times. (1986 called they want their Club back)

And then, suddenly, the narrative changes.

I come in from lunch on Monday afternoon, and the receptionist at my office informs me that that Ali from the garage has been looking for me. He's worried because my car has been down there for 5 days. 

OMG OMG OMG. (BAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA)

Before I even have time to react, my co-worker Tony runs downstairs to the garage and posts the following picture on facebook with the caption: "Ummm...JoDo, I think you were looking for this? 

The first comment on Facebook says it all: "No Way. If this is true, it can never be lived down."

And so it goes.

What happens next is nothing short of 5 hours of hilarity. I call the police department to "take back" my stolen vehicle report, because if I just drive it out of the lot I have a good chance of being pulled over at gunpoint (yay!). They inform me that an officer will have to come out and verify that it is indeed my car that's been "found." So around 5pm, I get a call that there's an officer waiting, and I take him down to the garage to verify the car's existence. I ask if he's seen this kind of thing before, and he says, "Yes, all the time, but usually after people have been drinking." Grrreaaaat. Tony meanwhile is snapping incriminating photos and even has the nerve to ask the cop if this is the dumbest thing he's seen all week. His answer is "yes." (at least it was only Monday)

The guys in the garage are happy I'm alive, and even happier that my parking bill for 5 days comes to $112.50. I tell them that their math is wrong, since parking is $12.50 per day. Turns out it's actually $12.50 every 12 hours. FML.

So long story short, I got my car back, and the keys were "missing" because it's a valet garage and they take them from you when you park there. In other news, I need a brain scan! And some ginko biloba. (the good news was no hobos bumped uglies in your car.)

Jo!  Thank you so much for being such an awesome sport and letting me publish this.  This is the best story ever.  Honestly, there is not one person out there who will read there and sit and think to themselves that they absolutely cannot do this.  I happen to think that this is just a sign that you had the most kickass birthday EVAH!!!!

Love your guts.

Angie

What Is Making You Smile Thursday

Well, today proved itself to be one of those days when I feel like a hamster running his face off in a wheel. Regardless, I am not going to let the firs What Is Making You Smile Thursday of 2012 go by unnoticed.  

Deadcereal, I don't understand Toddlers & Tiaras, I also have never watched an episode, but I am fairly certain that this child is possessed by gremlins, pixie stix, fried chicken, and a tranny. All perfectly acceptable things when not mixed together.

Speaking of Toddlers, this is my friend Council.  He has two precious little girls and this is what he wears to drop them off at day care while blaring Bon Jovi's "Living On A Prayer".  Way to get sideeyed and have your children judged on the fact that you dress like the 4th member of The Beastie Boys.  He is one dookie rope and a boombox short of being Intergalactic Planetary.  I am, however proud of him for knowing that it's never too early to start embarrassing the everlovingbritney out of your kids. My dad sure didn't ever miss any opportunity.

B-boy stance in front of Appreciation Ave...SICK!

Angie

Sparklefairy Babygodmomma

Hello people.  I have to tell y'all something, and since we are all BFF's around here, I tell you secrets.  And because some of you can't keep your bigfreakingmouth shut, you tell my secrets.  But I don't really care because I am a cool broad who doesn't hate on you.  Also, because I know you tell my secrets in order to spread the word about my sparklegemawesomness, I don't mind that you are the mouth of the South. Or in the words of my mother: "Don't tell that woman anything you don't want the entire town to know." Well, "that woman" is you in this scenario.

Wearing: Dress: Charlie Jade via: StitchFix. Boots: Steve Madden.  Bracelets: Gold & Citrus and Brighton

OK, onto the secret.  Do y'all ever have those mornings where you are getting ready and doing your routine and you remember a dream?  Well, part of my routine is listening to Beyonce most mornings.  I was styinling my imperialfuckton of hair this morning, grooving to "Get Me Bodied", and remembered that Beyonce came to me in a dream last night and asked me to be the Godmother of her daughter!!!!!!!!!!!!!  FDSGHUDFPGWEGNEHR!  That would make me Beyonce and Jay-Z's Babygodmomma! I don't know about you, but I feel that this is a sign.  I mean, clearly no one on the planet would be better suited to be the Sparklefairy Babygodmomma of that child.  I am the Godmother of two babies this year already, so I will have tons of practice.  Not only that, but if I am Beyonce's babygodmomma, the likelihood of me actually obtaining a glitter machine, and a light up dance floor are highly likely.  So, Beautiful B, if you need my assistance in being your babygodmomma, I am here, highly qualified and, fully able.  Just send Hova's plane over here to SF, and I will be there quickfastandinahurry.  

Just a note, the Frenchman photog is in France and Africa through the end of the month, doing French and African things.  So, please bear with the crappy photos for the time being.  Trust me I am going to have to deal with enough of his: "shit gurl,  you are ruining deees blog with deees crap pictures." when he gets back.  

Bibbitybobbityboo.

Angie

It's All About I, Give The Rest Of The Vowels Back

I'm back bizzles!  Happy 2012 to all you little lovebugs.  I trust everyone had a sparklegemawesome holiday season and are now ready to kick this new year in the teeth with your purefabulosity.  I know I sure as all hell am.  I missed y'all.  Life felt like a nervous pee without you.  How are y'all doing with your resolutions?  If you are already off the wagon on day three of the new year, might I suggest a meeting for you?  I am not really a resolutions person.   Unless that resolution is to make you all invest in Depends with my pure hilarity, sparklegemawesomeness, unicorn farts, Britneyloving, and rockyourfacesoff awesomeness, then I am all over that, and I will fullblown bring it for you this entire year. 

Wearing: Blazer: Vintage. Shirt: H&M. Bracelet: gold & citrus. Necklace: Blue Vanilla

So, for all you old skool THYMWYA readers, you know that I got into this for one reason and one reason only: Interwebs fame.  And not just any old interwebs fame like that nastyass honey badger.  I am talking hellafamous.  Y'all were with me when I fell off my chair at work and Jerry Maguired everyone's life away when I got picked up by the Glitter Guide with my amazeballs 3.0 getup.  Well, so far 2012 is going to be my year for global domination because, thanks to Kate from The Styley, your girl made it to the New York Times Street Style Page.  That's f''ingaright!!!!!!!!  As my friend said "that's nothing to shake a stick at."  I don't know if I have gone into the fact that the office I am at now is super quiet and corporate.  And we all know how demonstrative I am.  So, I hope you all can imagine the surprise to all my co-workers when I shat out the cutest baby unicorn you ever did see when I saw this!  DEADCEREAL!  Anyways, I do have to say that the most exciting thing to me about this is that I am featured alongside some of my greatest blogging friends, like Santina and Carlina.  Moreover, because I am now in the New York Times, The Mister said he officially cannot talk any more ish about me wearing red lipstick!  BOOOOOOM!  WIN!

Oh, and if you are wanting to see a pic of my new baby unicorn, here you go:

She already crapped pink glitter all over my office and I am having a helluva time cleaning it up.

Famouser!

Angie