The Birds

I have done something to offend them.

I live in a new neighborhood. No trees. Yet recently my car is covered in bird crap. Chunky, shadow-casting bird crap. This photo does not do it justice.

I wash the car. It happens again. Overnight. Frank's car? Clean. Not a spot.

Birds, what did I do?

Thank you for reading Scented Glossy Magazines, the birdshit edition.

I'm pretty sure Google has a drinking problem

Seriously, I'm concerned. I'm almost afraid to bring it up because Google is such a corporate giant and is currently the only bright spot in my retirement portfolio, but something has to be done.

Google has been falling apart lately when it comes to performing simple tasks. Tasks that are really hard to screw up. For example, I asked Google (who owns Blogger) to let me know when someone comments on this blog. Not a big deal, right? Wrong. I am notified about 33% of the time, and Anons are totally and completely ignored. I think it's kind of an important clue that Google is ignoring all types of "Anonymous," don't you? Anyhow, I am missing out on some really funny comments, like when Susannah at Petunia Face suggested that we should all have a bonus lesbian pick on our Free Pass Fives* (I think I'd go for Ashley Judd).

Don't even get me started on Google Alerts. I'm STILL waiting for it to notice that Mamacita tagged me on April 24. And it is so obvious that Google was drunk of its ass yesterday at work because in the middle of the day it sent me two Google Alerts from August and September 2007. Here's the proof:


WTF? A little late, maybe? And what about the fact that I didn't even start writing this blog until October 2007. How could these blogs be linking to my blog when IT DIDN'T EVEN EXIST, Google?!

You want more evidence, Google? Okay, then. You must have had quite a hangover after this little incoherent gem:


Unbelievable.

If this weren't enough--do you remember when you showed my children porn? Oh God. You are so lucky you're not in jail right now.

Google, listen. I know that you are the top search engine on the web. I know that you get several hundred million different requests every day. I can't imagine the stress you must be under, but take a vacation! Hire more people! Don't turn to the bottle. Your drinking is not only affecting your job performance and your reputation, but our relationship, which is very important to me.

Let's have an intervention to convince Google to go to shape up.** Is anyone else having issues with Google? Who would be your bonus lesbian pick? Speak up.


*UPDATE: Frank just called to inform me that I have a free pass to hook up with any woman at any time. He told me "not to limit" myself, and that most husbands feel the same way. So. There you have it.

**Yes, maybe I am watching too much Intervention, but there's clearly a problem, right? If it's not alcohol, then it's meth, herion or problems with code. I just want Google to do its job and get better.

Thanks to zenzenok for the photo

Later Days

My dear honeys, I am taking a blogging break for no good reason except that it's so nice outside. I love you, and will be back next week-ish.

I will leave you with this because it makes me happy (and how AWESOME are those dancers?!).

The Garage Update and also I LOVE YOU FRANK

Back in November, we were forced to empty our basement so that the foundation of our house could be repaired. The whole process made me feel like some sort of gross consumer a-hole, which in turn led to my spending hiatus of indefinite length. I wrote about it here, but really, don't bother because it's one of my earlier posts and it makes me cringe a little bit.

Here is what our garage looked like when we dumped the contents of our basement into it:

Garage then

Although the repairs were completed within 2 weeks, it took us FORFUCKINGEVER to sort through all of our crap. We donated a lot of it, trashed a lot and put some back in the basement. There are only a few stubborn items that refuse to magically disappear and allow both of us to park in the garage:

Garage now

Box springs for a double mattress. Did you know that the Salvation Army will not take this? WHY?! As part of a non-violent protest, we are refusing to move it back down to the basement. So here it stays until the Salvation Army bows to our pressure.

Prominent in the garage is a farm table which fit nicely into our old brick bungalow, but just looks too country in this house. Frank refuses to move this (with me at least) because I am a big pussy and will bang up the walls and whine a lot trying to get it back into the basement. We may just sell it because we are too lazy to move it 15 feet and down some stairs.

I don't know if you can see a smidge of orange behind the farm table, but those are the beloved* Broncos stadium seats, purchased by Frank when Mile High Stadium was torn down. When we eventually finish our basement and turn it into one big shrine to the Broncos**, the seats will be the centerpiece, along with this:

Ah, the John Elway stand-up liquor store display that manages to scare the shit out of one of us at least twice a week due to his extremely life-like presence in the garage. Love it!***

One last thing, because everyone, even strangers walking by our house, asks "what are those dental chairs doing in the back? Are you a dentist?" The answer is no, no, a thousand times no. They are antique barber chairs we brought from Kansas when my dad closed his clothing store. They are the heaviest mothereffing chairs you will ever see in your life, but the plan is that they will go in our basement (when we finish it) right by the pool table in the Broncos shrine.

So there you have it. When two cars are able to fit into the garage again, I will let you know. It will probably be around the time the Broncos shrine in finished, so . . . yeah. See you then.



* Okay, they are not beloved AT ALL by me, but I said that because I am trying to make up to Frank for calling him a fucktard in the comments of this post. I am so sorry Frank! Who knew you even read this blog? I was just trying to bond with Elaine and got carried away.

**Still trying to kiss up to Frank but there will be no Broncos shrine. Shhhhhh.

***No I don't but I love you, Frank!

I need to talk to the people buying these

Marc by Marc Jacobs Starburst clear tote, $137.90, on sale from $198


Bulga clear tote for $277 (on sale from $462)



Fendi Clear Prism bowler, $1150


But first I would like to slap them across the face, or maybe throw a cup of cold water on them. Haven't decided.

Then I would tell them a little story. Once upon a time many, many years ago when I was a student, I worked at Saks. The security staff, being a very suspicious group, would not let employees bring regular handbags to work. No, we had to leave them at home and bring in a clear bag, much like the Marc Jacobs one above, so that they could search them easily and know that we weren't stealing lipstick or an Escada evening gown. Guess what? Saks provided the bags for FREE. It's true!

If you are really dying for a bag that looks like a free gift with purchase, just apply for a job at Saks, Nordstrom, even Macy's. They'll give you a clear plastic bag and you can quit before your first day. You can then bedazzle it or quilt it--whatever. Spend the money that you saved on a cute dress from Anthropolgie or, in the case of the Fendi bag, I recommend that you save it and put it toward getting some treatment for that brain injury you've obviously suffered.

Just a little money-saving tip from SGM. Good luck!

Google is a really crappy babysitter

I was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and my 6 year old and 3 year old asked to get on the computer. Sure. Their harmless little websites are bookmarked, and Google's Safesearch was on. I could clean in peace. Or so I thought.

After about 5 minutes, I heard shrieks and giggles coming from the computer room and walked in to find a big butt on the screen. A big, hairy, explicit ass with balls and a hint of penis. Like some dude had asked his friend to lie on the floor underneath him and take a picture as he squatted down.

How did this happen?

My kids did a Google image search for "pee and poo." Thanks a lot, Google. Thanks for showing my sweet innocent children the private parts of a strange and depraved man on the internet. There are some sick people out there, Google, but I never thought you were one of them. You are not allowed to watch my kids ever again, do you hear? I'm setting my home page to Yahoo, who will hopefully be more responsible and mature.

Now get out of here before I call the police!

The best thing about Leatherheads

. . . was the trailer for Sex and the City. Yes, it's the one we've all seen, but it was so big and sparkling and beautiful! I was positively tingly over the largeness of it all.

It was all downhill from there. John Krasinski was pleasingly hunky and tall (oh, how I love his tallness!), but his character was bleh. Flat. As was the whole entire movie. I've never felt one way or another about George Clooney; frankly, in my mind he's still George the handyman from The Facts of Life.


Okay, who didn't LOVE The Facts of Life? My favorite was Natalie. Jo scared me, and I never could understand why any of the girls liked her. Remember that episode where she stole the beer and Mrs. G was so disappointed and then all of the girls were forced to work in the cafeteria as punishment? I think my aversion to the New York accent may stem from my dislike of Jo.

But back to George. He does absolutely nothing for me, probably because of his connection to Jo. I realize I'm in the minority on this one, and I'm at peace with that. Let's talk about Renee Zellweger. She drives me crazy! Not Rachael Ray or Alex McCord crazy, but more like "what's going on with her lips?" crazy.

Her character in this film had what I can only describe as MAC Viva Glam (you know, the original matte super-red that takes 3 days to remove from your face) smeared on her gigantic pursed lips all of the time. I couldn't take my eyes off of her caked LIPS--I swear they filled the entire screen! Oh, how I wanted to put some Aquaphor on her and wipe that shit off with a kleenex.

Anyhow, this movie was full of cliche and lipstick. Even the eye candy that is John Krasinski couldn't save it for me. WHICH, by the way, did anyone else feel a twinge of depression last week when Jim pulled out the ring?* Like "oh God, he's so happy and in love and I will never have a chance with him now" even though he's a completely fictional character? Okay.

Now let's end on a happy note: the Sex and the City trailer, right here for you to watch again because I know you want to. However, if you'd rather shift into a sad feeling at this point, then click here for a recent revelation about the movie by Cynthia Nixon that is kind of spoiler-y but not really because it is already everywhere.





*You people who watch The Office know what I'm talking about. To those of you who don't watch The Office--you need to get your priorities in order with regard to tv watching.

A message to my hairdresser

Hi Monica!

How's it going? I am so sorry that I had to cancel on you two weeks ago. As I said on my message, my oldest was barfing and there was just no way I could come in. I know I've canceled on you something like 3 times in the past 4 months, and I feel terribly about it. I swear I'm not A Canceler, but I'm sure you don't want to hear all of my excuses.

The truth is, I'm wondering if it's time we broke up. I'm sitting here with my roots grown out 1.5 inches, and my hair is dreadfully long and stringy, yet I haven't called you. Know why? Because I'm scared. I'm afraid you're going to punish me like you did last time and not get me in for 3 more weeks. I can't wait 3 weeks!

You know I love hearing about your ex-husband and your psychic and your on-and-off relationship with the guy who was built, as you put it, like "a brick shithouse." I'm not being sarcastic--I really do enjoy it. But lately you've been so quiet. My mother-in-law (who also goes to you) is telling me gossip that I should have heard from you. It's getting obvious that you're not that into me, and I think it shows in my hair. You haven't suggested anything helpful in at least a year; it's always "I think you should keep growing it out," and "let's stick with this color." I've needed some hair guidance lately, and you haven't been there for me. In fact, I feel like lately you've been giving me suburban hair. I'm not saying that you're doing it intentionally, but just that your usual effort isn't there.

I will never forget how you rescued me from my last hairdresser. It was so dysfunctional, the way that she would ask me what I wanted and then just do whatever the hell she wanted to do. I would say "I'd like to go a little warmer with my color," and she'd say "you mean cooler?" and I'd say "no, warmer." And then I'd leave with black hair, looking like an old, pathetic Goth. Do you remember that when I called you for the first time, desperate for some color correction, you got me in that day?

No doubt about it, we had some good times. Have I ever told you that most people think that my fake color is my real color? Yes, you are fantastic with the color. I'm afraid that I'll have to go through many colorists to find one as skilled as you, and this gives me much anxiety. However, I know in my heart that our relationship has run its course. It's been a great 3 years, but we both need to move on.

I wish you all the best in your future hair endeavors and I promise I will not talk shit about you to my new person.

Fondly,

SGM

Now accepting hearty congratulations

because I done got myself a dvr, bitches! My already outstanding tv watching skills will be taken to new heights (as will my cable bill). I AM SO EXCITED!

The Winner of the March Madness Pool!

The Supreme High Roller of 2008 is . . . my husband, Frank. If I could insert some sort of an anti-climatic "wah wah wah waaaah" sound clip, I would. I have had two totally objective contests on this blog and he has won them both. He won the first one by default* and this one, well, he wasn't even that interested. The man sat down for a good 45 minutes, filling out his bracket--for another pool--and only entered mine 1) as a favor to me and 2) because he thought we would be easy pickins. AND HE WINS THE WHOLE GD THING! So congratulations goes out to Frank. Whatever.

2nd Place: Amanda at Sucker for Marketing

3rd Place: Jessie at The Lucky Stone

Thank so much to all who played and congratulations to the Kansas Jayhawks! It was a championship game for the ages!

For the 2 Jayhawk fans out there who read this blog, come back later for more on the tourney and the victory.

*Although he was later disqualified.

Tagged

Read on to see what Socrates and SGM have in common


Paloma of La Dolce Vita tagged me, so this is me, A to Z.

A - Attached or single? Married.

B - Best friend? My husband, although sometimes he doubts that because I love love love my girlfriends.

C - Cake or pie? Both, sister! Duh.

D - Day of choice? Friday--the whole weekend is in front of me!

E - Essential item? Keeping it real: tv

F - Favorite color? Blue, all shades

G - Gummy bears or worms? Worms because it's fun to stretch them out.

H - Hometown? small-town Kansas

I - Favorite indulgence? molten chocolate cake and reality tv. Combine them and I would probably die.

J - January or July? July--so many people I love were born in July. Plus, I love warm weather much more than cold.

K - Kids? A son age 6 and a daughter age 3.

L - Life isn't complete without? Paloma said this too: good food and good friends.

M - Marriage date? July 18, 1998

N - Number of brothers and sisters? I have a bro and sister who are twins, two years younger than I.

O - Oranges or apples? Apples.

P - Phobia and fears? spiders and being outside in the cold without a coat.

Q - Quote? Shake it like a polaroid picture (not really, but it's the only one I can come up with)

R - Reason to smile? Oh God--everything! I am one of those people who smiles all the gd time and that's why I have major laugh lines.

S - Season of choice? Spring--nothing better than stepping outside to the scent of lilacs.

T - Tag three people: Mamaciter (because I know she secretly loves this shit), JJ (because she needs to update her blog) and Sucker for Marketing (because she's just getting her little blogging feet wet).

U - Unknown fact about me? I was a philosophy major in college. 'Cause I'm deep, you know?

V - Vegetable? French fries.

W - Worst habit? Spending money on useless crap.

X - X-ray or ultrasound? Ultrasound. Never broken a bone, but I've had two babies.

Y - Your favorite food? Sushi and fried chicken. Not at the same time, but now that I think about it, that would actually be just fine.

Z - Zodiac sign? Taurus.


P.S. Gin tagged me for listing 7 weird/random things, so if you want to know EVEN MORE about me, here it is.

a vacation idea and a somewhat unrelated story about my junior prom

My friend Richele over at Richie Design was telling me about her friend David's Palm Springs house that was featured on Apartment Therapy, and she asked if I would write about it in order to get the word out that it's for rent.

It kind of put me in an awkward position. Who's really that into warm weather, mountains, palm trees and luxe digs? I mean, it's snowing in Denver right now, and that's what I love: freezing cold weather in the spring. Why would anyone want to sit out in the warm sunshine by a pool when she could be bundled up enjoying gray skies and bone-chilling wind?

I understand, however, that some of you might be into warmth and beauty and excellent shopping. You're probably the same people who like to take vacations and have fun. Whatever. If you like that sort of thing, email david@modernhideaway.com, put "Blogger Discount" in your heading, and he'll give you a special deal as well as set you up with a super-chic place to spend a girls' weekend or any other type of fab [insert British accent] holiday.

To see more of the lovely house pictured above and get some details, visit modernhideaway.com.


[Okay, okay, truth be told, I LOVE Palm Springs. I went there for spring break with my family when I was 16. My mom and I spent much of that time shopping for a dress for my junior prom and because I was awful and teenager-y, I rejected anything that she liked even though she pretty much has excellent taste. I ended up insisting upon a blah strapless dress on the last day and it was altered there in Palm Springs. I'm sure I tried it on when it arrived at my house, but the only thing I remember is putting the dress on about 10 minutes before my date arrived and the following conversation occurred:

SGM: I feel like it's going to fall down!

Mom: It's not going to fall down; it fits perfectly. Here, put your arms straight up in the air and you'll see. It will stay up.

SGM lifts her arms halfway up and the dress slides down to her waist, exposing flat teenager boobs.

Mom: Oh.

Doorbell rings. SGM spends the rest of the night hunched over with her arms clamped to her side. So yeah. It's difficult to slow dance to Richard Marx when you can't move your arms away from your body.]

Making Amends

*EDITED* I just re-read this post and I think the whole Cost Plus experience altered my brain chemistry. I hadn't even been making fun of my neighbor in yesterday's post; it was more that I was making fun of Lucky that its outfit of the day was something that a conservative Mormon would wear while gardening.

I'll leave my amends out there because I don't think it's good karma to rescind it. But I'm crazy, y'all. This no-buying stuff is really messing with my mind.


I'd like to make amends to my neighbor mentioned in the previous post. She really is very nice--even to a heathen such as me-- and her tending to her perennials benefits me indirectly by beautifying our neighborhood. She does, in fact, have a sad face and I don't know whether it's some sort of natural expression or whether it's because she seems unhappy in her marriage to a sour man who is so tiny and meek that I could bench press him, like 15 times in a row. Oops. Sorry again.*

I hate to make excuses, but my spending hiatus is causing me to be a little more irritable than usual. I mean, have you ever gone to Cost Plus World Market and not bought anything totally unnecessary? It hurts, people. Aches. Deep down inside.

As Dr. Drew, addiction expert, might say: if you don't want to slip, stay away from slippery places. Amen to that.

Have a great weekend.


*This apology does not extend to Lucky. The day I make amends to Lucky is the day I start a passionate lesbian love affair with Alex from Real Housewives of NYC (i.e. never).

The Pool

I sent out lots of invitations (both solicited AND unsolicited) to my NCAA tournament pool -- if you haven't filled out your bracket yet, or you still want to participate, it's not too late. You have until tonight at midnight to complete your bracket and until my bedtime to email me for an invite. It's so painless, chicas. Next year we're doing money though. Don't tell the feds.

p.s. I used to have a tiny small crush on Joakim Noah (pictured above), son of former tennis star Yannick Noah, but not any more. Not after this:


Good. Lord.

March Madness: it's not just for annoying old men and face-painters anymore

March Madness is for EVERYONE, even fabulous awesome women who may or may not know a lot about it. That is why, my fierce bitches, I am hosting The First Annual SGM High Roller Tournament Pick 'Em Contest!

TO ENTER: email me at scentedglossymagazines@gmail.com by Wednesday and I will send you instructions on how to join my private yahoo fantasy group (sounds dirty, but I swear it has nothing to do with prostitution) in which you can fill out your bracket, easy as can be, and press "submit." **Edit** I'm out of town until Tuesday afternoon--I do have computer access but there may be a bit of a delay in sending you your invitation. Don't fret, I will get it to you in plenty of time.

THE WINNER SHALL RECEIVE: Recognition on this blog as The Supreme High Roller of 2008. Sorry there's no cash involved but I just beat those racketeering and drug trafficking charges and I don't need the FBI on my case again.

WHY YOU SHOULD ENTER:

1) It will give you a chance to bond with your sports-loving man, your sports-loving crush, or just the guy in line behind you at Staples who is wearing a shirt supporting the team you picked to win it all.

2) You will have a legitimate reason to stare at strapping young men being all intense and sweaty. Exhibit A--#25


He'd be on my Free Pass Five if I weren't old enough to be his mother (his very young mother).

3) Dude, it's fun. It really is, even if you don't know anything about basketball. But see here for a brief explanation of the tournament if you feel clueless.


I know you don't come here to read about sports, but indulge your little friend SGM, will you? I promise, it will not interfere with my coverage of The Real Housewives of New York City.

Props

Thanks to Richele at Richie Designs for helping me with my Euro-fabulous new header! That's me in the middle with my entourage; don't you just love a man who can rock a fur collar?

If the header looks weird in any sort of only-a-graphic-designer-would-notice-it way, it's my fault because I had to mess with it to get it to conform to Blogger.

You're the bomb-diggity, Richie!

Impending Doom

My family and I were at Chuck E Cheese today for my niece's birthday. As a result, posting will be light in about 2 days when we are all ill and wishing for death.

I'd like to go ahead and confirm that my experience at Chuck E Cheese sucked for the following reasons:

1) Cheri's ex had the kids this weekend and they were all there with his new girlfriend.


FYI, the ex was really pissed that Chuck had it's liquor license suspended. Are you wondering "how on earth does Chuck E Cheese get its liquor license suspended?" Me too, but I wasn't about to ask the surly teenage employees.

2) Noise, germs, bad food, and moms with visible boob tattoos. Boob tattoos are so ill-advised, don't you think? Especially the mini-tiger claw variety. Can't wait to see them at age 65.


3) My brother-in-law's friend was there with his fiance, and I called her by the old girlfriend's name. I realized it as it was coming out of my mouth. That was pretty awesome. It was witnessed by many people who suddenly pretended be busy handing out tokens and such. I spent the rest of the time trying to keep her in earshot while I referred to her by her correct name. Cool.


Did I tell you that my 6 year old put a token in his mouth? So yeah. We're going down.

Enjoy your weekend, and don't you dare get a boob tattoo without talking to me first.


EDIT: My disclaimer--Denver has suburban Chuck E Cheeses and "urban" Chuck E Cheeses. We went to an urban one yesterday, which was decidedly more violent, grungy and unpleasant than suburban ones. The moral of the story is, not all Chuck E Cheeses are this bad. None are completely fantastic and you can be sure that they all have strains of the plague on the skeeball balls, but there's definitely a spectrum of awfulness.

Where I'd like to be right now

Here:


The kids would have to scram, of course, and I'd like some dappled sunshine and an ocean. Oh, I would also need someone to push me gently for hours without speaking or even breathing.

Someone will need to fetch me some gossip and interior design magazines, as well as a mindless book or two. A frappacuino and a light snack of french fries will be required, and probably cupcakes. I don't mean to be difficult, but I could really use a pedicure. I'd also appreciate a nearby blooming lilac bush, the skin of an 20 year-old and this dress:


and these sunglasses:


Shoes? How kind of you to ask, but I am in a basket swing on the beach. Shoes would be silly--and my pedicure needs to dry.


It's really not too much to ask, is it?

Instead, I am sitting here at my desk, just now noticing that one of the people I gave birth to has wiped her nose on my shoulder.

Nice.

Basket swing photo courtesy of The Family at Home by Anita Kaushal

The Mac to My Cheese

Attention, everyone! There is a rock star among us! Our pal and fellow blogger Richele over at Richie Designs has published (as in real, official, and legit) greeting cards. Check out these samples--click to enlarge if you need to:




They're smart, stylish and original, and they're going to be at Jack Cards soon (note: if you still haven't bought your necessary Valentine cards and were planning on finding some among the Snoopy dregs at the grocery store tomorrow, you might want to give this site some attention). If you are like me and want to see Richele's cards there even sooner, please email info@jackcards.com.

Congratulations, Richele!