Don’t mind me or expect me to get anything done thanks to Brittany for introducing me to Lightroom so now I haven’t the ability to focus on anything more than putting down the lappy to watch The Hills or yell at my kids to “get Mama her ice pack.” Or to construct a complete and grammatically-correct sentence.

Knee? Frucked up. I wish I knew more. I just get this pretty new accessory and an ice pack for now. Exercise is stupid, kids. Think of this when you think of running (especially if you haven’t run since you were 5 and you start running 3 days a week right off of the couch):

And then there’s these. *siiiigh* I’m pretty sure I’ll be asking for Lightroom for my birthday.

I’ve never been what you would call a “fashion plate,” but more of a “fashion emergency.”

Once I find a shirt or skirt or bottoms I like, I buy them in every color available. My favorite? $4 Old Navy Weekly Specials that wear out before the end of the season. bee tee dub… I’m wearing one right now that’s already pilled and scratching my arms.

Dead sexy.

For nearly every outfit I wear, I can bet you can purchase for less than $30 TOTAL.

Dead classy.

Sure, you can dress me up and take me somewhere pretty every once in a while, but that takes major planning and shoe pile digging and earring dusting.

Dead messy.

The following was picked out of the limited pictures I have of myself.
Same. Same. Same: khaki bottoms, solid shirt.

There are special times when I think I look better than my normal pink hair-dye-stained Obama ’08 t-shirt, shlubby 2-year-old chino shorts missing one of the buttons, and BRAND! NEW! pink! Crocs. Times with I actually fix my hair, put on actual eye makeup, and find actual nice jewelry to slap on.

My wannabe-turned-actual fashion plate sister is consistently nagging on me to “put on more makeup” and “here, wear this necklace” and “OH MY GOH HOW DO YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE LOOKING SO HORRID*?”

I have, what you might describe as, a precocious, opinionated, moody, 4-going-on-13-year-old little girl.

Apparently, she’s caught on to my failures as a fashion victim survivor.

I was dressed up to go to a friend’s birthday dinner in the bathroom putting lipstick on a pig dressing my eyes, when she came in to show me just how cute she looked in her frilly un-Easter, Easter dress.

That’s when it happened: the rest of my life.

“Mama. You need to wear a dress like mine. You look boring.“

Yes, kid. Yes. I do look boring.

And you, my dear child, have made your auntie very proud.

And and, this is my official application to What Not to Wear.

____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____

*actual quotage

The fabulousness combined of Maria Melee, Caroline Morningside Mom, and Deb on the Rox have put together a link-up of all people who love the Gulf of Mexico. Having lived across the intercoastal from the Gulf until I was 18 and visit several times a year, I can profess my love for the greatest beaches in the world.

Totally award-winning. Like, for serious. Actual awards.

I wrote a post yesterday for one of my other gigs about the oil spill and its affect on tourism and how hotels and beaches are safe and welcoming visitors. Just thinking about the beach being covered in sludge made me tear up and miss it even more.

THIS, is MY beach:

Don’t fruck with my beach. Kids eat that sand.