1. I’ve seen far too many cats walking around naked as the day they were born lately.
I’m starting a new campaign to make sure they’re at least properly shod.
(You all know how “pro-shoe” I am.)
I’m starting with Jitters.
I’ll get him something more formal as soon as I figure out where to find a shoemaker that works in his size.

    I’ve seen far too many cats walking around naked as the day they were born lately.

    I’m starting a new campaign to make sure they’re at least properly shod.

    (You all know how “pro-shoe” I am.)

    I’m starting with Jitters.

    I’ll get him something more formal as soon as I figure out where to find a shoemaker that works in his size.

  2. Great dress!!

    Today’s fashion feedback received while waiting for my bus. Not from a homeless person, but from the most awesome woman I’ve ever seen with wild hair, driving an old private hearse filled with stuff. My dress might be great (it is) but she was absolutely fabulous.
  3. Today’s Homeless Bons Mot: Dueling Banjos of Crazy

    Today’s adventures on public transportation was brought to me by Bill Cosby and flip phones.

    At or around the DoubleTree hotel stop (that hotel with the logo used to look like lesbians dancing but recently got redone and is now BO-RING) an older man with wheely bags got on and sat perpendicular to me.

    Yay me!

    First he asked if he saw me at the bar last night to which I responded with a vehement “NO”, and then he went on to start explaining to the developmentally disabled young man sitting across from him how he had a tattoo of Bill Cosby on his leg and how he saw Bill Cosby yesterday and had to kick him.

    I could empathize as he (Bill Cosby) and Robin Williams with their holier-than-thou prissiness often make me want to go out and get tattoos too.

    His tirade, however, scared the poor boy across from him and which made him retreat to the back of the bus. (The developmentally disabled guy, not MrName-droppy-McHomeless dude.)

    Next he pulled a flip-phone from one of his bags and launched into a soliloquy about how he has a doctor like Michael Jackson’s who will supply him with meds that keep him high for days and let everyone know that he was calling the doctor.

    And how he had a doctor for Marijuana too so he didn’t need to place that call just now. 

    After several failed calls attempts, he started getting agitated (because, you know, he was calm as a Zen monk and all before..) and talking about how he was going to have to put the nurses over his lap and “spank their little asses”. (Direct quote)

    When nobody from Crazyville seemed to be available to take his calls, he slammed the flip-phone shut and reached into one of his bags and pulled out a business card which he handed to me. 

    It was for a place that rents out high quality disposable mobile phones.

    Suddenly I wasn’t quite sure if I had just watched a nutter or a really brilliant sales performance and was on the fence not wanting to rush to judgments. I also realized that this wasn’t the first time a homeless person in Los Angeles had given me a business card. 

    At this point, one of my favorite nomadic bus riders got on the bus.

    She has a great memory and remembered me from a conversation we had a week or so before which went like this;

    Her: Hello, where are you going are you going to work do you think it’s going to rain I heard that there is a huge storm’s coming this weekend.

    Me: My office in Old Torrance, I’m going to work. It looks like rain’s possible, I hadn’t heard that it would storm this weekend. (BTW, it really did storm that weekend, and I now think of her as a weather savant.)

    Her: Old Torrance? That’s pretty far from the bus stop. Going to work at this time?? Can you do that? (It was about 10:30 ish, I had been taking care of work I could deal with from home for a couple hours)

    Me: It’s my company, I go in when I need, I was working from home!

    (I had an imperative need to justify myself out-loud because the whole bus could hear our conversation and I needed them to know I wasn’t a slacker)

    Her: You can do that? That’s ok?

    Me: My employees are there!!

    Her: *Stares at me for two beats*

    Me: Things are getting done!

    Her: Well don’t get wet I like your shoes it’s a long walk.

    So today she gets on the bus just as the phone demo guy moved over to try to sweet-talk an old Korean lady in a really nice floral hat and starts talking to me as we approach my stop.

    Her: Oh going to work again you’ve got a long walk I like your dress did you get it at the mall?

    Me Out-loud: Yes! Thank you! No! Bye!

    Me In-My-Head: I’m very early today SHE CAN’T JUDGE ME, Mall? Oh hell no (irrationally offended) This is a Michael Kors from Nordstrom! Not some Del Amo piece of you-know-what!

    The point of today’s story is potato.

  4. Bons Mot From Members of Our Homeless Community

    After living here for about 10 years now, I’ve come to realize that some of the most interesting people in this community live outside and since I am often out and about, I’m lucky enough to get the chance to have (very) random conversations with them on occasion.

    I’m going to start keeping track of those conversations here.

    03/14/2012, Downtown L.A. Fashion District:

    Man: Nice dress!! It makes me want to play checkers on you! 

    (I was wearing a polka-dot dress that can be seen here, sans hat.)

  5. My Review of The Item That Once Made me the Stinkiest Person on Public Transportation

    4 Stars, Best workout gear for water retention BUT once made me the stinkiest person on public transportation**

    Delfin Spa Bio Ceramic Anti Cellulite Capris (Medium/Black) Price: $56.99

    These are an absolutely great addition to an intense workout to help with mid-section water weight.

    I wear about a size 6 and the medium worked well, fit well too. They come up high enough and go down low enough to get your mid-section and thighs sweating up a storm during an aerobic workout. Seriously drenched, rivulets of sweat.

    Like a sauna in your pants. (As gross as that sounds, it’s really a good thing.)

    One of my favorite things about the cut is that it isn’t that awkward height that isn’t quite high enough to help you avoid the potentially psychologically damaging muffin-top effect by stopping at your most squishshy mid-section point.

    I also have purchased these: Everlast for Her All-in-One Body Slimmer but this item, the Delfin Spa Bio Ceramic Anti Cellulite Capris are thighs and bums above the Everlast pair and fit much better as well. The other brand buckles on the side and are an unsatisfying length on the legs.

    There is only one issue; the smell.
    No, I’m not talking about sweat, that’s not a conversation to have here or anywhere, that’s up to you and the people around you in a gym.

    I’m talking about the eye-burningly head-turningly horrifically strong rubber pants stench.
    You might think I’m kidding or exaggerating, but let me tell you a story about really how strong the odor is at first.

    One day, you know the day, the day I was late getting out in the morning and waiting for my cleaning to come back and out of cute black leggings to wear under my tunic and under boots so I thought I’d just open these up and throw them on and then rush out to my bus stop.

    So I’m power-walking to the bus stop and keep catching a scent that I can’t identify.

    Since this is Los Angeles, home of no-ozone layer and smog of the stars, an irregular chemical smell isn’t too alarming.

    But I started getting worried when I finally got to the bus stop and the smell was there, stronger than ever. I didn’t have time to go back home and change, but I slowly started to realize that the horrible smell was wafting up from my exercise pants that, fair enough, should not have been forced into leggings duty.

    So I get on the bus hoping that it was one of those times when only I’m smelling a scent but it not being so obvious to everyone else.

    Sadly, that just wasn’t the case.

    At the next stop, a friendly older lady who lives a nomadic existence in our beach community got on the bus and paused at my seat as if to sit down, took a whiff of the air and took her assortment of bags and moved to a location several seats behind me.

    Yes, the smell was so bad that a person without plumbing or shelter was offended by the strength of the stink.
    Seriously. This seriously happened.

    So by the time I get to the office I’m humiliated and avoiding humans like a grungy alley cat.
    I sat in my office until my cleaning arrived and took these pants off quicker than you can say “stinkypants”.

    After washing them about 4 times (no kidding, 4) the rubbery smell is at an o.k. level.

    Would buy again, would wash first several times.

    As a note, the Everlast for Her All-in-One Body Slimmer smell just as bad if not actually worse.

    It’s just the nature of the sauna pants beast I guess, so don’t let it put you off buying, just don’t wear them in public around people in enclosed places until they’ve been repeatedly laundered.

    Or ever really, don’t wear stinky pants in public places that aren’t the gym. Let’s make that a rule that we follow like “no spitting” or something.

    Full Amazon Review Here: Awesome but stinky pants

  6. 5 Stars unless you have a devil spider cat, 2 stars if you do: My Review of A soft pet carrier

    5 Stars unless you have a devil spider cat, 2 stars if you do

    Pet Gear Signature Pet Car Seat & Carrier for cats and dogs up to 20-pounds, Aqua Price: $36.00

    Let me start by saying that the carrier is great under most circumstances.

    Well made, very affordable, comfortable, easy to clean (the mat inside is soft, can be taken out to clean, great idea), well thought out. It opens from the top as well as from the front, and folds up to almost nothing for great storage.

    There’s even Velcro on the front so the front flap can be rolled up and left open to make a little den.
    Honestly a great product for the most part.

    I bought two of these carriers to take my two cats out to the desert (a 5 hour drive in traffic at worst) because they were well rated, very affordable and strapped into car seats safely.

    Everything was perfect up until the point the car started to move.
    ***I ask that “Dog People” don’t read the rest of the review because I don’t want you to judge cats.
    Cats are not dogs, and some cats hate the car with a passion and fury that makes M.M.A. look like preschoolers finger-painting. I believe it is residual vacuum trauma so I try to be supportive rather than all judgmental like you dog people are.

    So my two cats are cats with claws who don’t scratch people or furniture(!), cats that have never bitten a person, cats that are lap cats that purr at food, sleep in little fluffy balls and toss mousies around cutely for praise. In other words, they are sweet dreamy low maintenance kitties.

    So I didn’t know or realize that there was a chance Jitters would go psycho devil kitty once the car started moving.

    See, I had set up the carriers as kitty caves for months before the trip. Jitters and Justus would sleep in the carriers and on the day of the trip when I called, Jitters even got in the carrier on his own.

    The minute the car started moving Jitters decided to let us know just how very unacceptable the situation was.

    Aside from yelling in voices I’ve never heard him make every 10 seconds, he also thrashed viciously around the carrier and fervently tried to dig his way out. He managed to remove the bottom lining and generally act like a caught marlin and try to push his head violently through the top screen. At this time, however, there was not permanent damage to the carrier. Jitters did manage to rub all the fur off the tip of his little kitty nose on the top screen of the container which then peeled pitifully the entire trip (his nose, not the well made container) making me feel great waves of guilt which led to me feeding him more kitty treats than his less-than-svelte kitty physique needed.

    Justus on the other hand went catatonic from the trauma of the ride and slept comfortably and safely in his (belted in) carrier.

    On the ride back, however, Jitters learned the concept of “Traction”. “Friction”? I don’t know.
    Sadly, physics isn’t one of my stronger suits.

    Anyhow, Jitters somehow ended up upside down in the cage as if he were reenacting one of the “Mission Impossible” movies I could actually comfortably watch before becoming absolutely creeped out by Tom Cruise’s public behavior.

    So aside from the vicious yelling, Jitters figured out that if he grabbed the front screen with his claws that he could actually then grab onto the screen with his teeth and rip holes into it. He also learned that it was progressive and that the larger he made the hole the easier it was to rip it even larger and larger.

    Now you may be thinking “Oh! Lucky you! Your kitty is smart and learns things!” but it wasn’t all fun and happy learning milestones I tell you.

    Since he was actually on his way to tearing a hole in the front screen big enough to force his psycho kitty body out of, we actually had to pull over, arrange the car so I could sit next to his carrier and then hold him down from the top for the next 2 hours home. (The top zip feature of the carrier came in handy here)

    Long story longer, this is a great item for animals who don’t fight like whirling dervishes to get out, but not great for those who do. To be fair, I don’t know if there’s a soft case that’s better, it may just be an issue of needing a hard case for the nutcases.

    Original Review Found Here on Amazon: Soft Animal Carrier Review

  7. On Dressing Up For A Gyno Exam
(Photo is unrelated but an awesome one of me and how I feel inside most of the time so I shared.)

Will other women of a certain age understand this one?Let me clarify; will other women of a certain age, who have, for whatever deeply personal reason, CHOSEN to NOT have children, understand this one?Because I don’t expect those of you who aren’t in that category to understand.I actually (defensively) expect you to NOT understand and rather than getting my panties in a bunch about that (this time), I’m just going to leave this one up for those who have walked a mile in my absolutely gorgeous shoes instead.So after avoiding the Gyno for much longer than I should have because the last one traumatized me**, I finally got a good referral and made an appointment.
**F.Y.I, When I say “traumatized” I really just mean made me all angry and defensive and wanting to slam my little mouse paw sized fists into their faces, but instead I just smiled and made small talk with them because I’m big on the inside but kind of a p***y on the outside and play most of my most gloriously aggressive and violent scenes out in my head only.
It’s the morning of the appointment, nails done the night before, I’ve bathed, done my hair and full make-up, and I’m standing in our clothes room (previously our bedroom but now clothes live in there because the cats don’t) frantically trying to create a perfect look that says:
“It’s not that I CAN’T have children, It’s that after a great deal of thought and soul searching, and based on a mature assessment of reality and deep personal knowledge of myself I actually chose NOT to”.
Having been to the Gyno before, I’m well aware that I’m going to end up naked in a front-opening paper towel kimono with my butt hanging out, but at that moment, choosing JUST the right outfit has taken over all sane reasoning and has become a matter of absolute LIFE AND DEATH for me.
Digging through my clothes I immediately dismiss several options because of either too low necklines or too high hemlines fearing that they gave off more of an “IMPREGNATE ME NOW” vibe which conversely might convey a little more desperation than someone trying to visually represent logical adult decision making skills might wish to.
I then had to nix several other options which were too frumpy which might have  led to an “Ah, I get it! She can’t find someone to impregnate her!" vote of pity and that really wouldn’t do it either. I have my pride you know! I may soon be dressed in tissue with a plastic belt, but as god is my witness, I was going to start that visit out RIGHT.
Next came selecting then rejecting several severe business suit type things with full white blouses because I started giving off a Joan Crawford vibe and I really didn’t want her (the new Gynecologist) to feel sorry for the children I’ll never have because their potential mom was all Joan Crawford-y. I wanted her instead to be happy for them (in a non-insulting to me kind of way) that I didn’t have them.
I also had to nix the easily recognized showier brand stuff in the fear that I’d be judged too shallow and self-centered to have children, which, even though I admit to my shallow and self-centered parts, is actually not why I didn’t have children and I didn’t want one of the least selfish decisions I’ve made in my life to be misinterpreted because of a deeply rooted need for bling.
Living in L.A. gives you the freedom to wear pretty much whatever you damned well want to (as long as it’s fab) without worrying about what other people think so deciding what to wear is rarely if ever a time consuming process for me, which made me all the more acutely aware that I probably hadn’t thought that much about what I was going to wear in years.
(The last time I put that much thought into an outfit was maybe my wedding 10 years ago?)
So after talking myself down from the sartorial edge of panic and unreason, I settle on a demure boat-neck tank top in black, Elie Tahari pin-striped slacks, an Anne Klein bolero jacket with an understated but cool stand collar, a youthful strand of pearls, Gucci sunglasses and enough mascara to make an ugly drag queen feel “born with boobs” confident.
I’d convinced myself at that point that I’m giving off just the right “I’m fulfilled as a human and successful in my own right so there’s no need to judge or pity the whole no children thing because it’s a positive life choice I’ve actively made" and felt strong enough (once again, most likely thanks to the mascara) to face an office full of women who are all about reproductive organs and reproducing.
I doubt any men are reading or will ever read this entry at all or to this point but if one ever does, let me try to explain this feeling to you here:
Walking your still functioning reproductive organs into a Gynecologist’s office at a certain age as a non-offspring producing woman kind of feels like walking into a Hummer dealership with a really great bicycle you love and asking them to put air in the tires. YOU WILL GET JUDGED. And even if you really really don’t want a Hummer and really just need air in your tires, there’s this neurotic need to defend against the judgements that you know are being made because they don’t even try to hide it.
And yes, I do realize I’ve just compared my uterus to a Schwinn. And no, you can’t ride it and yes, I’d put little fluttery plastic tassels on it if I could.
Anyway, back to the story.
So the doctor takes me into her office for an initial consult, sits me down and it takes me approximately .04 seconds for me to launch into my preemptive “I’ve chosen to not have children, it’s a valid and good choice" speech.
I should have f#*@ing worn sweatpants and a ponytail.
If you’ve read this far down the page you’re probably hoping for some point or resolution or punchline.
Sorry, I have none to offer.
Except maybe my observation as a woman that we just may have done as great harm to ourselves with our American brand of feminism as good.
See, Feminism was supposed to open doors and give us the freedom to choose our lives and careers and futures rather than being told by society what was “right” or “wrong” for women to do.
It wasn’t originally meant to be something that judged the absolute f*#k out of women when they chose one thing or another rather than doing everything at once, or shame them into doing things they wouldn’t normally choose to do, or want to do.
See, American feminism seems to now tell ALL women that they need to, have to do it ALL at once and do it perfectly or be a failure, when the truth is doing it all at once well enough to not suck is pretty damned near impossible.
But that’s a borderline deep thought and I’ve moved myself here to L.A. to make sure I don’t have to be bothered by those.
So to get back on track, at least I’m pretty sure I looked fairly awesome that day before I had to put on the napkin and put my feet up in stirrups, and in L.A., that’s what ultimately matters.

    On Dressing Up For A Gyno Exam

    (Photo is unrelated but an awesome one of me and how I feel inside most of the time so I shared.)


    Will other women of a certain age understand this one?

    Let me clarify; will other women of a certain age, who have, for whatever deeply personal reason, CHOSEN to NOT have children, understand this one?

    Because I don’t expect those of you who aren’t in that category to understand.
    I actually (defensively) expect you to NOT understand and rather than getting my panties in a bunch about that (this time), I’m just going to leave this one up for those who have walked a mile in my absolutely gorgeous shoes instead.

    So after avoiding the Gyno for much longer than I should have because the last one traumatized me**, I finally got a good referral and made an appointment.

    • **F.Y.I, When I say “traumatized” I really just mean made me all angry and defensive and wanting to slam my little mouse paw sized fists into their faces, but instead I just smiled and made small talk with them because I’m big on the inside but kind of a p***y on the outside and play most of my most gloriously aggressive and violent scenes out in my head only.


    It’s the morning of the appointment, nails done the night before, I’ve bathed, done my hair and full make-up, and I’m standing in our clothes room (previously our bedroom but now clothes live in there because the cats don’t) frantically trying to create a perfect look that says:

    “It’s not that I CAN’T have children, It’s that after a great deal of thought and soul searching, and based on a mature assessment of reality and deep personal knowledge of myself I actually chose NOT to”.

    Having been to the Gyno before, I’m well aware that I’m going to end up naked in a front-opening paper towel kimono with my butt hanging out, but at that moment, choosing JUST the right outfit has taken over all sane reasoning and has become a matter of absolute LIFE AND DEATH for me.

    Digging through my clothes I immediately dismiss several options because of either too low necklines or too high hemlines fearing that they gave off more of an “IMPREGNATE ME NOW” vibe which conversely might convey a little more desperation than someone trying to visually represent logical adult decision making skills might wish to.

    I then had to nix several other options which were too frumpy which might have  led to an “Ah, I get it! She can’t find someone to impregnate her!" vote of pity and that really wouldn’t do it either. I have my pride you know! I may soon be dressed in tissue with a plastic belt, but as god is my witness, I was going to start that visit out RIGHT.

    Next came selecting then rejecting several severe business suit type things with full white blouses because I started giving off a Joan Crawford vibe and I really didn’t want her (the new Gynecologist) to feel sorry for the children I’ll never have because their potential mom was all Joan Crawford-y. I wanted her instead to be happy for them (in a non-insulting to me kind of way) that I didn’t have them.

    I also had to nix the easily recognized showier brand stuff in the fear that I’d be judged too shallow and self-centered to have children, which, even though I admit to my shallow and self-centered parts, is actually not why I didn’t have children and I didn’t want one of the least selfish decisions I’ve made in my life to be misinterpreted because of a deeply rooted need for bling.

    Living in L.A. gives you the freedom to wear pretty much whatever you damned well want to (as long as it’s fab) without worrying about what other people think so deciding what to wear is rarely if ever a time consuming process for me, which made me all the more acutely aware that I probably hadn’t thought that much about what I was going to wear in years.

    (The last time I put that much thought into an outfit was maybe my wedding 10 years ago?)

    So after talking myself down from the sartorial edge of panic and unreason, I settle on a demure boat-neck tank top in black, Elie Tahari pin-striped slacks, an Anne Klein bolero jacket with an understated but cool stand collar, a youthful strand of pearls, Gucci sunglasses and enough mascara to make an ugly drag queen feel “born with boobs” confident.

    I’d convinced myself at that point that I’m giving off just the right “I’m fulfilled as a human and successful in my own right so there’s no need to judge or pity the whole no children thing because it’s a positive life choice I’ve actively made" and felt strong enough (once again, most likely thanks to the mascara) to face an office full of women who are all about reproductive organs and reproducing.

    I doubt any men are reading or will ever read this entry at all or to this point but if one ever does, let me try to explain this feeling to you here:

    Walking your still functioning reproductive organs into a Gynecologist’s office at a certain age as a non-offspring producing woman kind of feels like walking into a Hummer dealership with a really great bicycle you love and asking them to put air in the tires. YOU WILL GET JUDGED. And even if you really really don’t want a Hummer and really just need air in your tires, there’s this neurotic need to defend against the judgements that you know are being made because they don’t even try to hide it.

    And yes, I do realize I’ve just compared my uterus to a Schwinn. And no, you can’t ride it and yes, I’d put little fluttery plastic tassels on it if I could.

    Anyway, back to the story.

    So the doctor takes me into her office for an initial consult, sits me down and it takes me approximately .04 seconds for me to launch into my preemptive “I’ve chosen to not have children, it’s a valid and good choice" speech.

    I should have f#*@ing worn sweatpants and a ponytail.

    If you’ve read this far down the page you’re probably hoping for some point or resolution or punchline.

    Sorry, I have none to offer.

    Except maybe my observation as a woman that we just may have done as great harm to ourselves with our American brand of feminism as good.

    See, Feminism was supposed to open doors and give us the freedom to choose our lives and careers and futures rather than being told by society what was “right” or “wrong” for women to do.

    It wasn’t originally meant to be something that judged the absolute f*#k out of women when they chose one thing or another rather than doing everything at once, or shame them into doing things they wouldn’t normally choose to do, or want to do.

    See, American feminism seems to now tell ALL women that they need to, have to do it ALL at once and do it perfectly or be a failure, when the truth is doing it all at once well enough to not suck is pretty damned near impossible.

    But that’s a borderline deep thought and I’ve moved myself here to L.A. to make sure I don’t have to be bothered by those.

    So to get back on track, at least I’m pretty sure I looked fairly awesome that day before I had to put on the napkin and put my feet up in stirrups, and in L.A., that’s what ultimately matters.

  8. My Review (That People Hate) of a CD That Explains Why I’ll Never Take Lars Ulrich’s Music Advice Again

    2 Stars, Lars, I will never trust your judgment again.

    Best of Diamond Head Price: $13.29

    I first heard about Diamond Head from Lars Ulrich from Metallica at the big 4 concert.
    Something something about how these guys shaped his life and stuff like that.

    The song Anthrax, Megadeth, Slayer and Metallica members all played together at the end of their epic concert was off this CD by this band and I really wanted to like it / them because Metallica, until “Reload”, were awesomeness personified and are still stunning performers (because they abstain generally from playing post “Reload” tracks because they know we pretty much hate all that).

    But I didn’t like this CD at all. None of it. Because it was just not good.

    I gave it 2 stars rather than 1 because maybe they’re like Piet Mondrian or something and geniuses for inventing a format is deceptively simple but was never there before in that format and that I just don’t understand because I didn’t go to Berklee or something.

    In their case the the “inventing something really simple but was never there before in that format” would be that they were the forefathers of “not great fairly dull averagely performed music” or something, but I guess someone had to invent that too so we’d have music for people to listen to when they get their cavities filled or ride elevators with people who look like they might smell badly or something.

    Original Amazon Product Review Here: Diamond Head

  9. My Review of a Shockingly Freakishly Good Dash Mount for GPS

    5 Stars, Shockingly freakishly good dash mount: HOW DOES THIS EVEN WORK???

    Bracketron UFM-100BL Nav-Mat GPS Friction Dash Pad

    This is the most amazing usable inexpensive simple wonderous dash-mount ever invented by any culture in any age.

    I’m being 100% sincere.

    I have the oddly heavy TomTom XXL 540TM 5-Inch Widescreen Portable GPS Navigator, a Toyota Highlander with their signature misshapen and oddly textured dashboard and I am a shockingly terrible driver. I’m not proud of this fact, but I feel that you need to understand how truly bad a driver I actually am to appreciate how truly superior and ingenious this dash mount is.

    Allow me to explain.
    I gun my car violently when the light changes because, one, it makes me feel like a super bad race-car driver, (woo woo!) and two, because I don’t want to lose to the guy in the ‘91 Honda with the bumper duct-taped on in the lane next to me. (Can I get a shout out from other people who know this feeling?? I’M NOT LOSING TO YOU 18 YEAR OLD TAPED CAR DRIVER!!)

    As an added bonus, this rocket-like propulsion ensures that I will get the worst possible gas mileage possible. I’m close to Hummer territory here and I drive a flipping Toyota. That bad.

    It is said that the brakes on my car are very good so I take every opportunity possible to make sure I test them by using them suddenly and often randomly when I think I see a mammal or leaf or bag or shadow crossing the road.

    I tend to steer in the direction in which my eyes go so help all or any passengers if there’s anything interesting to either side of me. Lots of interesting stuff to see on the roads here in Los Angeles; shops, the ocean, sofas and settees fallen from trucks on the freeway.

    I could go on, but it’s getting to the point where a local chapter of feminists have petitioned me to undergo a gender reassignment so I’ll stop reenforcing stereotypes about terrible women drivers.**
    **Only this part is untrue. This is Los Angeles, feminists don’t live here, they all live in San Francisco and judge my terrible driving from afar.

    My husband will deny all claims besmirching his driving prowess, but his testing of this mount is equally strict and frequent as he tends to see curbs as challenges rather than impediments.

    For the sake of nuptial bliss, I will refrain from further comment on that topic, a subject he vehemently and yet unconvincingly denies and get on with my review.

    I had used a stick-to-the-dash type of holder before with no big issue until the sticky wore off rendering it useless and I had to look for a new dash holder. The old type of mount left the sticky residue on my bumpy dash after it fell off.

    Tres unchic, and as you surely can infer from my driving a mid-size Toyota, I am ALL ABOUT the chic and visual aesthetics are a foremost concern. Speaking of aesthetics I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that this mount resembles a black beanbag chair you might find in the apartment of a very midcentury modern guinea pig. This in no way is to be taken as a slight.
    It is what it is.

    I came across this dash mount here on Amazon and couldn’t understand just from what was written how this actually “stuck” to the dash (what is this “friction magic” of which you speak??) and had even less faith it would work with my stupid heavy Tomtom, my slalom rapid-fire kamikaze driving and my odd misshapen dash.

    Even after using this mount for over half a year, I cannot tell you what mysterious sorcery keeps the sand-sackesque mount on my dash, but it really truly actually works.

    It has yet to fall off ever. Seriously. Even with all my unnecessarily sharp lane changes, my dime stops, and my F1-like squealing starts; this miracle mount stays on.

    And then you can just lift it off when you arrive at your destination leaving no sticky residue, absolutely no hassle, and no people targeting your sweet ride because of your mad hardware.
    (You fellow Toyota owners will understand this fear of being targeted for the sweetness of your ride and hardware.)

    I will only ever use this type of dash-mount again, but since there are no breakable parts, I will never ever need to replace it ever for anything. I want to buy these for everybody everywhere. More Surperlatives!

    I did also buy a separate arm mount to use with this because other reviewers pointed out a lack of depth in this mount with their unit.
    Using this, ARKON TTEP115 TomTom EasyPort Windshield / Dash Mount
    the Tomtom peeks over the end of this mystical magic mount and the combination works perfectly.

    Original amazon Product Review Here: Best Dash Mount Ever


  10. My Review of a Lotion For Cellulite Reduction

    3 Stars, Nice as lotion, not a magic wand

    Slim Extreme 3d Thermo Active Slimming Serum - Anti-Cellulite Fat Burner 250ml Price: $17.99

    One of the things you don’t really want to face as a woman in your 30’s is that there is no and probably won’t ever be an easy cure for cellulite.

    There may not even be a hard cure; some of my slenderest friends have cellulite as well so maybe that’s just how the pitted cookie crumbles.

    Not wanting to face that fact causes us to wave our magic wands (credit cards) and buy items that claim to get rid of cellulite easily.

    As easy as it would be to blame a product rather than take responsibility for my own persistent cellulite and magical thinking, I’m going to have to say “Yeah, it’s not as easy as buying a lotion to make those nasty thighs all smooth”.

    This is a fine lotion. Smells nice, burns like pepper on your skin which, while an odd sensation, as it’s a new one, almost welcome.

    But did it do jack all for my cellulite?
    No.

    While I might buy this again as a lotion, those of you who get upset when your magical thinking cellulite bubble bursts may wish to avoid purchasing this as, well, you’ll sit there, pitted like a golf ball, tingling hot and lemony smelling and it might make you all crabby because you still (of course) have cellulite.

    Crabby is even less attractive than cellulite so know yourself before purchasing this.

    Actual Amazon Product Review Here: Dimple thighs unite!

  11. My Review Of A Haunted Mirror

    3 Stars, Lighting’s great but the mirror portion is most likely haunted

    Ott-lite Natural Daylight Makeup Mirror, White/Chrome (26 Watt) Price: $69.99

    After doing an exhaustive analysis of the various lighted mirror options available on Amazon and reading about a brazillion reviews, I decided on this mid-range model based on all the pluses and minuses I read.

    PROS:
    -Size is good
    -Lighting is great
    -Mirror view both regular and magnified are mirror-y and work as mirrors should

    CONS:
    -Mirror appears to be haunted** and slowly tilts in a different direction as I apply make-up making make-up application difficult and causing me to have to tilt the mirror back into place several times during a make-up application session irritating me probably more than something like that ought to irritate a person.

    **The reason I have come to the conclusion that it is haunted is based on the scientific process of elimination.

    First, gravity in my house is standard earth gravity and should not cause the repeated tilting of mirrors.

    Second, the table on which I place my Ott-lite Natural Daylight Makeup Mirror is a standard flat, not sloped, surface and should not cause mirror motion.

    Third, while not super-model quality, I’m pretty sure my visage isn’t horrid enough to cause a mirror to attempt to escape when forced to mirror my face even without make-up.

    In conclusion, having ruled out all other scientific causes of spontaneous mirror movement, I am left to come to the solid conclusion that it is simply haunted and hence not as usable as I’d like a mirror I paid about $60.00 for to be.

    Who am I kidding?

    I’d be upset with a haunted $10.00 mirror too.

    Original Amazon Review Here: Lighted Make-up Mirror

  12. My Review of An Accidental Gas Mask

    5 Stars, Great office conversation stopper

    Israeli Civilian Gas Mask w/ Nato Filter Price: $19.30

    I bought this fine item off the wish-list of a person who will most likely have her face come in contact with pepper-spray at some point in the near future be it a civil protest or cocktail party. I’m not judging, that just how it is.

    But I digress. This is about the gas mask, and not a social statement as I am a slacktavist at best and generally leave my social statement to social networks so they will have very little influence on anything real at all but will leave me feeling moderately satisfied with myself. Still digressing, sorry.

    Either through user error (I admit nothing) or some evil Amazonian plot, the “ship to” address ended up being my office address rather than Ms. PotentialPeppersnoot’s.

    Since this item is so reasonably priced, and let’s face it, I’ve always kind of wanted a gas mask, I did absolutely nothing about this mis-shipment issue and am now the proud owner of an office gas mask.

    It is an item I am oddly comforted with now having in my office, like a first-aid box or something, I began thinking all offices and places of business should have at least one.

    Why would I need a gas mask at my office?
    As and example, here’s a scenario that runs though my head;
    Stopping Itinerant Vendors who refuse to honor the “No Soliciting” sign on the front of our business;

    As an executive, I am far too busy to argue the semantics of whether or not an unscheduled visit from two young men in suits regarding “A discussion about new digital service providers” is or isn’t in violation of our clear “No soliciting” signage.

    True, since I would not purchase their services, they weren’t successfully soliciting, but as many a sad man with an unfortunate arrest record now knows, sealing the deal isn’t actually necessary for the solicitation to have, in fact, occurred. In the eyes of the law and yours truly.

    Back to the gas mask;
    As our staff comes out from their offices to stop the solicitors as they try force their way deeper into our business, sneakily trying to get more information or names off letter on desks so they can later do a full court press on us about their sadly unwanted services, all it would take to rectify the nasty escalating situation and brutally cut things off at the knees would be for me, entering the reception area in a nice work outfit, with my always awesome shoes and this gas mask on, mumbling loudly (it’s hard to enunciate with a gas mask on) about them needing to GET OUT NOW.

    As an added bonus, they would not come back late either. I am certain of this.

    I would definitely buy more of these by accident for my office for any number of reasons even though we don’t do much more than sit in front of computers doing digital stuff all day. No joke, absolutely serious.

    Original amazon Review Here: Gas Mask W/ Nato filter

  13. My review of a lion toy with a little something extra

    5 Stars, Cute, entertaining, anatomically correct.

    Lion Cub Toy Price: $5.35

    We bought several of these toy plastic lions for a series of videos we were doing.

    Being lions and such we found them to be a perfect match for the project as it involved “Lion” and add a valuable “cute” element to the project.

    The set director for some reason noticed that these items were anatomically correct in a tiny non-offensive plastic kind of way and that is what still, almost a year later, I remember most about them.

    Original Amazon Review Here: Lion Cub Toy

  14. My Review of A Face Lotion With Vitamin C That Made Me Feel Like a Wuss.

    2 Stars, NOT FOR PEOPLE W SCENT ALLERGIES: Causes burning sensation, redness, breakouts, self-doubt

    Vitamin C Vitality Serum 1 oz. Price: $17.85

    I have fairly but not extremely sensitive skin and have used C serums before with no negative results.

    It may be the powerful orange scent added to this but this Vitamin C Vitality Serum caused my face to become violently hotly red and itchy when I applied it to either my face or neck.

    Being the absolute moron that I am, I continued to use it several more times thinking that just might be how it worked and that I needed to tough it out like some kind of boot-camp for my face. MAN-UP WOMAN FACE!

    I realized though, when I started breaking out in whiteheads on my forehead and chin like the teenager I haven’t been for over 20 years that I needed to toss this product in the trash and move on.

    If you have semi-sensitive skin or reactions to strong scents, take a pass on this product.

    Actual Amazon Review Here: Vitamin C Serum

  15. My Review of an A&E television series: a.k.a. Best diet video EVER!
5 Stars, Best Diet Video EVER
 Hoarders Season 4  Price: $26.99
I find the best time to watch Hoarders is when I:1. Eat dinnerand2. Clean my house.Here is why and I’m serious.As for #1, You can be breaking a three day fast and be nearly dead from hunger-pains, but I guarantee that it would take a special person who could scarf down a meal after watching a hazmat-suited team shovel out 4 years of human adult diapers and several feet of cat and rat feces from somebody’s home.As far as #2 goes, you know that cabinet in the bathroom you just shove everything into or that one closet you really don’t ever want anyone near?You watch a woman who would rather lose her children than throw out empty boxes or blames a child she drove out 10+ years ago for the house-rotting junk she’s amassed and you could be dog tired and still motivated to clean that $%&# up.I don’t know if most watch this with a certain schadenfreude, but I certainly don’t.Watching people who have given in to or lost to a mental disorder is like a quick-start boot-camp to buck-up and be grateful.There but for the grace of something go so many of us.
Original Amazon Review Here: Hoarders

    My Review of an A&E television series: a.k.a. Best diet video EVER!

    5 Stars, Best Diet Video EVER

    Hoarders Season 4 Price: $26.99

    I find the best time to watch Hoarders is when I:

    1. Eat dinner
    and
    2. Clean my house.

    Here is why and I’m serious.
    As for #1, You can be breaking a three day fast and be nearly dead from hunger-pains, but I guarantee that it would take a special person who could scarf down a meal after watching a hazmat-suited team shovel out 4 years of human adult diapers and several feet of cat and rat feces from somebody’s home.

    As far as #2 goes, you know that cabinet in the bathroom you just shove everything into or that one closet you really don’t ever want anyone near?
    You watch a woman who would rather lose her children than throw out empty boxes or blames a child she drove out 10+ years ago for the house-rotting junk she’s amassed and you could be dog tired and still motivated to clean that $%&# up.

    I don’t know if most watch this with a certain schadenfreude, but I certainly don’t.
    Watching people who have given in to or lost to a mental disorder is like a quick-start boot-camp to buck-up and be grateful.

    There but for the grace of something go so many of us.

    Original Amazon Review Here: Hoarders