Rachel Callahan

Giveaway: Get Pampered By Birmingham’s Finest!

February 23, 2013November 12, 2013 Rachel Callahan Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, Giveaways and Contests, I Love Birmingham

Birmingham Fashion Week kicks off tonight! Although the entire week is going to be spectacular, I personally cannot wait to see two of my favorite Project Runway Designers, Anthony Ryan Auld and Joshua McKinley, show their collections on Friday night.

In preparation for the week, I was invited to visit Gus Mayer, which is the heart of Birmingham High Fashion and the host of the Kick Off Party tonight.

(Which, by the way, everyone is invited to – no ticket required!)

Although Gus Mayer started in New Orleans, it was bought by a Birmingham family in the 70’s, and is now one of the last remaining Birmingham-Based Department stores. When I was a kid, I remember going to the mall and seeing many stores such as Pizitz, Parisian, and Gus Mayer, all headquartered in my own city. Since then, almost all have been bought out, one by one, by corporate giants such as Belk and Macys.

In the midst of the superstore takeover, Gus Mayer has held out and remained local. As such, they offer luxurious personal service and attention to detail, like their Facial Room.

Tucked privately away in the back of the store, the Facial Room is a gorgeous enclave (with stunning wallpaper, might I add,) where you can relax and rejuvenate. Melanye Morris is their full time Esthetician, and has managed and worked in spas and medical spas all over the United States. She trained in Paris, and has a philosophy of mixing medicinal skincare with relaxing aesthetics.

Being the professional that she is, I’m sure that she immediately sensed my inexperience and apprehension with the facial process. Thankfully, she didn’t let on and was gentle with me, explaining everything as she went along, and asking me many questions about my skin and preferences.

She gave me a Taylor to Fit Facial, which is specifically targeted to each person’s particular skin needs. She explained to me that I have naturally oily skin, so she chose a pumpkin-based treatment, which replenishes Vitamin A and helps combat breakouts.

My poor neglected face was singing in ecstasy at being so pampered, and after the treatment, my skin was literally radiating.

(A good blogger would have a before and after photo here, but the delicious sights and smells completely distracted me from the task at hand.)

The benefit of having a facial at Gus Mayer is that you’re conveniently just a door away from several top end makeup counters armed with attentive professionals ready to finish your newly invigorated skin off with a complimentary makeover.

Melanye passed me off to the fabulous Chanel duo, Terry and Eva.

Eva had the fastest hands I’ve ever seen, applying with perfection all of these products (and more) onto my face before I realized she’d started.

I’ve always been baffled as to why the smoky eye look made me look like a Goth Girl, and Eva explained that it was because I had deep-set eyes – I need to have lighter shadow on my lids and darker shadow above my lids.

Life makes so much more sense now.

Terry aided Eva perfectly, reading her mind and handing her the products she needed while simultaneously snapping photos for me. The choreography between them was fantastic to watch – I’m pretty sure that they could double as a top-notch surgical team if, let’s say, I came down with Appendicitis while sitting in their chair.

(Which, due to my body-part-removal-rate, I fully expect to have my appendix taken sometime in my lifetime. It’s only a matter of which day it chooses as it’s own.)

Eva finished her magic on me,

And then wrote and drew it all out for me, even going out of her way to make it accountant-ready by numbering the colors and steps.

I may not be naturally talented at makeup, but I can follow a numbered legend.

Once my face was complete, I was escorted off to play dress-up in Birmingham-Fashion-Week-ready looks (of which I will be talking more about next week on Alabama Bloggers.) This was my favorite – I especially adored the long shirttail and lace overlay on the pants – it was a magical combination.

It was fun – very fun. And lucky for you, Gus Mayer wants to give one of you the same treatment, except with the added bonus of a $50 Gift Card to spend on any facial products that you fall in love with! They even wrapped both gifts spectacularly in Gus Mayer fashion:

If you would like to win a One Hour Tailor-To-Fit Facial (worth $90) along with a $50 Gus Mayer Gift Card, simply follow Gus Mayer on Twitter or Facebook (or both) and comment here to let me know!

For extra entries, you may do one or all of the following:

Follow Birmingham Fashion Week on Facebook or Twitter
Like me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter.
Tweet, Facebook, or Blog about this giveaway.

And if you’re really desperate for some pampering, for a bonus of five entries, stop by Gus Mayer’s Birmingham Fashion Week Kick Off Party tonight between 6-8 pm and tweet, Facebook, or email me a picture!

Be sure to leave separate comments for each of your entries – and hurry! This giveaway will only be open until Thursday, February 27. I will announce the winner Friday, February 28 on my Giveaway Winners Page.

Good Luck!

Disclosure: I was given a facial and makeover in order to review this prize. As always, all opinions are my own.

The Best Worst Comments.

February 22, 2013January 13, 2016 Rachel Callahan Best Worst Comments, I'm a Blog Geek, Pop Post, Quirky quirky quirkiness, Weird Strange and True

Sometimes people find my blog, thanks to The Googles.

These finders can sometimes have strong opinions, bottled-up anger, or an intense need to vent. These people, who are never regular readers, also don’t understand the context of my blog, which is largely based on the verifiable fact that nearly nothing I say should be taken seriously.

Which makes for some fabulous comments.

Some things that I’ve written lend themselves more to the Angry Googlers, such as my Bra-Fitting post (despite the fact that I linked in my recant,) My Chick Car Survey and Study Results, and, oddly enough, The Truth about Cats and Dogs.

But my favorite comments came from other posts.

So here they are. The top eight best worst comments I’ve ever received.

8. I wrote a post in 2011 about discovering the crushing truth that the DirecTV Miniature Giraffes are not real. I likened my heartbreak to that of finding out that another infamous being is not real, and one Googler, two years later, felt that perhaps I was dis-servicing the entire world. And maybe I am.

So here’s the official warning:

PARENTS: do not let your Children of Santa Age read my blog. Also, you might not want to let them use Google without supervision, as I’m pretty sure I might not be the only person out there sharing this bit of information.

7. A comment that I did not allow to stay on my blog because, well, it was just too unoriginal, was this one, left by someone who had Googled something, found my blog, and spent about five minutes there.

“You are a complete moron and a waste of precious oxygen.”

Thank goodness I have people in my life that will speak truth to me.

6. This one wasn’t a comment, but a blog post reviewing of one of my blog posts. The post in question was one of the only pieces of fiction that I’ve ever written. It was a tongue-in-cheek version of The Three Little Pigs, and apparently I seriously ruined the moral of the story.

…or was that morale. I don’t remember the morale of the Three Little Pigs, but I guess they were somewhat upbeat when fighting off the Big Bad Wolf…

Then there are the jean blogs. Clearly I don’t expect everyone to agree with my conclusions, and I have quite a number of dissenters. But a few stood out from the crowd.

5. The Rolling Butt Shelf:

(I’m still trying to visualize a butt rolling down my leg, and desperately trying to get rid of the hungry-butt-cheek visual.)

4. The Person Who Desires Cliff’s Notes:

(I just prefer not to discriminate against men named Brian, that’s all.)

3. The Constructive Criticism regarding Constructive Journalism:

Moving on from the jeans.

2. Four years ago, I taught Ali to name the states because she was interested in geography and enjoyed it. We spent about five minutes a day on the project – five minutes that apparently should have been much better utilized:

Thank goodness for that smiley at the end – didn’t you feel like it made everything all better?

1. My all-time favorite commenter, though, happened across a post where I described playing with a Copperhead before realizing it was a Copperhead. My neighbor identified it for me, then beat the snake into snake pulp.

A year and a half later, Pete G set us straight.

My eyes have been opened. I am a city puke. I’m off to set things straight – and find a baby skunk to love.

Know Your Downton Risk Status.

February 20, 2013January 3, 2014 Rachel Callahan Anal Retentivity to a Fault, Downton Abbey, Downton Abbey Graphics, Pop Post

{Spoiler Alert – only continue reading if you’ve finished watching Downton Abbey Season Three, which ended in America on Sunday.}

I felt it best to give you all a couple days of Downton Silence out of respect for your mourning.

Because I know – I’ve been there. Since I hacked it and watched Season Three with England, I had to deal with my grief privately, finding a quiet solace with a few other equally impatient friends.

Fortunately, Christmas Day was too busy for me to watch the last episode, but when I did watch it on the 26th of December, I empathized for all of the ruined Christmases in the UK (and was surprised that I hadn’t heard of any Class-Action Lawsuits against Julian Fellowes.)

But besides the fact that the last episode was horrible, it was, in my opinion, a very shoddy death. Could it have been more obvious and foreboding? Could they have worked any harder to throw an heir into the picture at the last minute?? How dare they rob us the joys of nine months of Lady Mary as a half-crazed, fire-breathing, hormone-fueled pregnant ogress???

Reprehensible.

For weeks after watching, I didn’t know if I even wanted to watch Season Four. I quit recommending the show to everyone I met, and was positive that I would have been happiest if I’d blissfully concluded my stint as a Downton Fangirl approximately 45 seconds before the end of that cursed Christmas “Special.”

But I’ve had a couple of months to acclimate now, and I’m feeling better.

And you will too – I promise.

But in the meantime, I thought that it was time for an updated chart.

With the bodies stacking up, we’re all a bit more jumpy these days.

Who’s next?

Is it safe to get attached to anyone?

What about me – if I were to suddenly find myself in Downton Abbey, would I meet an untimely demise?

Not to worry – I’ve made you a handy flowchart so that you can know with certainty whether to take out that extra life insurance policy or rest on your Aristocratic Laurels.

I hope that helps.

Now go finish your mourning.

Eat Your Legos.

February 18, 2013July 9, 2013 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Can I get a copy of that recipe?, Homeschooling: Not just for the socially awkward anymore., Lego Love

It has now come to pass that everyone in our family is obsessed with Legos (except, perhaps, for me – but I’m obsessed with my family being obsessed with them – you get that, right?)

Even Noah has been bitten by the bug, which is bringing Chris’ life dreams into complete fulfillment.

As such, when I ran across Lego Ice Cube Trays on Amazon, I knew I had to get them. I found the actual Lego branded tray, and a set of non-Lego brand tray (which creates slightly larger blocks,) and a non-Lego brand minifigure tray.

So I bought them all.

They were the flexible silicon kind of mold, so I also knew that they would be much fun for creating all sorts of Lego-themed treats.

(Except for Cake Pops. I will never attempt Cake Pops again, no matter how much it would please my family.)

Our first foray into the world of edible Legos was Jell-O.

(I had pinned the “How to make Jell-O Legos by pouring them into the bricks” forever ago, but I never could figure out how you were supposed to get them out of the hard bricks.)

I wanted a fun school craft for Valentine’s Day, and this was the perfect project, even though it has nothing to do with Valentine’s.

(I struggle with cohesion, just like certain Project Runway teams.)

It took me a while to find a good Jell-O Jiggler recipe that would work for one box (most were written for three boxes of Jell-O, but I really wanted to do one box at a time to get a variety of colors.) But when I did find one, it was amazingly simple:

1 cup of boiling water
1 packet of Knox Gelatine (is “gelatine” a Canadian spelling? But that’s what the package says…)
1 box of Jell-O

Somehow the creating of Jell-O was much simpler than I remembered it from my childhood (yes, this is the first time I’ve ever made it with Ali) – it seemed to take so much longer when I was shorter.

We quickly boiled the water, mixed in the Knox and Jell-O, and put the concoction into a measuring cup for Ali to pour into the molds:

Seriously – it’s that simple.

The only tip that we did discover was that they turned out prettiest if we could minimize the bubbles in the mixture, so very light whisking was in order. You can see in this picture that the Mr. Purple Minifig has a bit of a bubbly gut:

(He needs some Lego Jell-O Bean-O.)

But other than that, it couldn’t have been easier.

We let our molds refrigerate for a couple of hours, and when we removed them, we pulled at the edges of the silicone mold and popped them out from the bottom. Most of them came out immediately, leaving no shrapnel behind.

(This recipe would also work fabulously if, perhaps, you own a set of Naked Baby Moulds. Maybe use Peach-Flavored Jell-O to give it a nice flesh tone…)

We ended up doing six colors – two in the morning, two at lunch, and two at dinner. Each round took at most ten minutes.

The Minifigures added a lot of charm, and I would love to find molds of other Lego brick sizes and shapes to add to our collection.

(Or get really geeky and create my own molds.)

I’m glad I had all three molds (and an extra star wand mold,) because it was just a little shy of holding two batches at once. We poured the extra Jell-O into a pan, on which we used non-cohesive random holiday cookie cutters.

Ali is already asking me what we can make next. She wants to try molding Soft Butter Mints into Legos, and I want to make some Mommy-Therapy-Chocolates.

What else can we make?

Zulily Strikes Back.

February 15, 2013February 15, 2013 Rachel Callahan Smocktastic, Weird Strange and True, Zulily

I used Christmas shopping as an excuse to go on a bit of a Zulily bender.

As such, when I got my credit card bill, it read something like this:

Zulily
Amazon
Zulily
Nabeel’s
Amazon
Zulily
Amazon
Nabeel’s
Zulily
Amazon

(Multiplied by 32.)

So I decided that I better put that little app aside for a long while, even if it did mean ending my Zulily Blog Series.

And I did.

…until a couple of weeks ago, when I got a notification that I quite mysteriously had a $20 credit. The only thing I can figure is that Zulily was distraught that I didn’t write a Twelve Days O’ Mocking Zulily Christmas Post.

(I’m kind of disappointed too, now that I think about it.)

And so I coasted back down that slippery slope into the land of Smock and Weird…and Weird Smock.

Like this piece, which I’m sure I will be seeing this summer, because nothing personifies The South better than spandex, camouflage, flip flops, and smock:

If Honey Boo Boo doesn’t wear that for the swimsuit portion of her next pageant, there’s no justice in Dixie.

Male Smock makes me a bit misty-eyed, knowing that my son will never get to experience such pageantry due to husbandly rulings (and wife agreeings.)

(And yes, for the record, Ali did wear one smock one time. Then I washed that smock and it came out so wrinkled that it never stood a chance for a rematch.)

When it comes to Male Smock, you want to make sure that you dress them with appropriate career aspirations.

If you think that your precious rugrat is a genius that needs only the proper inspiration the achieve greatness, then this is the smock for you:

But if you suspect that he’s more suited to bulldozing large piles of chocolate chip cookie dough to and fro, then Zulily has that covered, too.

If your husband insists that you keep your Male Smock Tendencies a private affair, not to worry – you can always go with the Musical Smock Pillow Option (MSPO.)

And if your daughter is rebelliously opposed to The Smock Look (as I was when a child,) you can help the brainwashing along by buying her this:

It could have changed everything for my Mother.

Not into smock?

No worries!

Zulily has a plethora of Alternative Easter Sunday Options!

Because you really can’t say “He is Risen” better than you can with bedazzling and awkwardly placed tulle.

And if you want to make sure that you’re raising the next Kardashianesque Reality Star, make sure that you thoroughly pad your daughter’s little self-esteem with this top*:

* Faux glitter tears not included.

Easter, Reality Show Dreams, Smock Needs – Zulily solves all sorts of problems.

But wait – that’s not all!!

Have you been dressing your infant in softspot–to–toejam bows, yet still find that you’re not getting enough affirmation from your friends and family for your efforts?

If so, then buy this jewel – it will help reinforce your absolute and utter Bowing Superiority.

The above shirt is highly recommended with the following beanie-bow – the best option to ensure that their entire scalp circumference is properly adorned.

So neither bows or smock are your thing. Let’s say you’re more of an animal print Momma.

Do you feel that all of the infant animal print offerings are too figurative?

Giving just a taste of the print you crave, but not enough to make a full statement?

Yes, Zulily carries those too,

But they also carry the more literal interpretation that you have been searching for all of your life.

Because you just can’t go wrong with three-dimensional trunks springing from your child’s chest and padded paws from her crotch.

But you must consider your child’s needs, too.

Every single time I survey infants to seek out their preferences, one of their chief complaints is the lack of breathable clothing.

“More holes,” they say.

“Less warmth!”

Zulily is here for you, baby.

Clothe your little bundle of sweat with the flexibility and breathability offered by twelve inches of rhinoceros intestinal tract!

Not recommended in areas where wasps or bees may be present, as they may mistake your child’s chest for their nest.

If you find that your little one really gets on with this no-shirt look, then on their next romper, skip the torso altogether and go for The Fly Fishing Look:

But Zulily doesn’t just solve clothing conundrums.

No!

Does your infant disapprove of a thermometer being jammed into his sphincter?

There’s only one thing that can turn that frown upside down – letting porky do the dirty work.

Or, if they prefer nose over tail, let Dumbo take on the job.

But all of the above was the boring stuff.

Women’s Shoes are Where. It’s. At.

I leave you this collection with no commentary, because any amount of narration would pale in comparison to the products at hand.

Please scroll slowly.

And all of the Lady Gaga impersonators said Amen.

My Kinda Funny But More Like Really Awkward Valentine.

February 14, 2013February 14, 2013 Rachel Callahan Boy Child = Bizarre., Just My Luck, Toddlers: The Experience

“Boys and their mothers have a different relationship than girls and their mother. It’s just…special. You’ll see.”

Mommies everywhere began telling me that in their most misty-eyed, cherish-every-moment voices when we found out that we would be having a boy.

I was skeptical, because I understood girls. I “got” girls. And I was nervous about boys.

But they were right.

It is different.

Like, super different.

Like, super awkward different.

For instance, he learned at a young age how to hang onto The Girls. And then there were the oddly spicy compliments.

And now he has apparently embedded a subcutaneous chip on my person so that any and every time I go to the bathroom, he is alerted so that he can be sure to join me – you know, for some quiet bonding time away from his sister who knows better.

He can be three miles away playing at a friend’s house, but the second I plant my feet on a tile floor and sit down for a moment of alone time, he will run home and join me in the bathroom with a huge, mischievous grin on his face.

And if I try to break it to him gently and say “Noah, Mommy needs some privacy,” he will say “Okay Mommy!!” then shut the door and lean against the inside of it, still grinning.

From what I can tell, this bathroom bond can only be broken by the discovery and destruction of seven horcruxes.

And there was yesterday.

I got him up from his nap, and as is customary, he gave me a kiss.

But it wasn’t his usual kiss, which is big, sloppy, and fully-tongue-involved (despite my many lessons of CLOSING ONE’S MOUTH FOR KISSING.) No – this kiss was nearly closed-mouth with zero wetness.

I heard Heavenly Hosts singing. I marveled in his beautiful accomplishment. And as I was basking in the glory of not being saliva-covered, he interrupted the angels to say,

“Tongue one now, Mommy.”

Then licked me from chin to forehead.

Happy Valentine’s Day to me.

Housekeeping: How to Update Your Feed.

February 13, 2013February 13, 2013 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, I'm a Blog Geek, Newsflash

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve got my new blog design how I like it (and hopefully how you like it, too.)

There are some great features to the new design, like categories up there ^^ and over here >>
to help you find what you’re looking for. Also, it’s easier to connect with me via social accounts, and is in general is neater and cleaner (not to mention pretty and happy!)

The second phase of my grand cleanup and fine-tuning process was to transfer my feed from Feedburner to Feedblitz.

Feedburner is dying a slow and painful death, as it is not maintained by Google, despite it’s bugs and need for attention. Feedblitz, on the other hand, looks like a fabulously nifty product that should enhance my feed and make it more user-friendly.

But transferring a feed is scary, because there is a wide range of outcomes that you, the readers can experience if you use a feed reader:

You might have quit getting my posts with no warning.
You might have gotten a bright yellow box instructing you to update your feed.
You might still receive my posts just like normal.

So. If you use a feed reader (like Google Reader) and my feed is no longer showing up for you, try re-subscribing with the following URL:

http://feeds.feedblitz.com/graspingforobjectivityinmysubjectivelife

Also, I now have email subscriptions available for the first time ever. So if you would rather receive my blog posts via email, enter your email address in the box on the right side of the screen over there >>
that looks like this:

If you have any problems or things don’t work the way I’ve described, let me know and I’ll help you get them fixed!

And if you have no idea what I’m talking about and just come to my site the old-fashioned way, then ignore this entire post.

$100 Giveaway: New Mom Secrets.

February 13, 2013May 11, 2014 Rachel Callahan Giveaways and Contests, Uncategorized

When I had Ali, I was absolutely shocked at how clueless I was in regards to taking care of a newborn. Like seriously – who knew they were so complicated?? It didn’t help that I wasn’t the how-to book type – I just expected to naturally and instinctually know how to care for an infant. I did not. I had a LOT to learn. I knew nothing, and I needed help. Here were some of the most helpful things for me as I tackled new Mommyhood:

1. Having a friend who also had her first new baby a few months ahead of me. Okay, this one may be hard to come by for everyone, but it was a life saver for me. My friend Ashley had AJ three months before I had Ali. We have had lunch nearly every week for the last six years, and I have been able to watch her parenting and take tips, tricks, learning ideas, and forewarnings of what was to come next. Our babies were so close together (and oddly twinlike in appearance) that she hadn’t forgotten the stages I was going through, but she was far enough ahead for me to learn all sorts of useful information. (And it was also nice for Ali to have a best friend.)

2. Watching what my parents did with my kid. It’s easy to get into baby ruts. If a sippy cup works, why would I ever try a regular cup? Every time Ali (and later Noah) would go over to my parent’s house, they’d come back with some new skill. And I’d always find myself saying, “Huh – I would have never thought to teach them that yet!”

3. You cannot let your baby cry it out within earshot. Although letting a baby cry it out for just 5 or 10 minutes can be magical for said baby’s ability to sleep through the night, if listened to, it is maddening. Two minutes feels like two centuries. Earplugs, porch time, loud television, music – whatever it takes, just don’t listen to your baby crying.

4. Video Monitors are priceless for parental sanity. I didn’t have one with Ali, but I have adored it with Noah. Fabulous creations, they are. (And highly entertaining.)

5. Keep a gigantic stock in wet wipes – because once you have a baby, you’ll use them for everything. Wiping butts, wiping noses, wiping hands, wiping faces, wiping off kitchen counters, mopping the floor, removing large chunks of sticky crumbs from car seats, cleaning the mirror…I have no idea how I ever lived without wet wipes. No. Idea.

6. Preventative Butt Care is a good thing. Poor Ali had a sensitive butt. When she was an infant, I thought she was doomed to perma-rash. But once we started creaming her butt every night before bed, she cleared up and stayed that way. Noah’s butt doesn’t break out as often, but when it does, he can’t stand for me to use most brands of cream on his butt – apparently it’s not so pleasant of a sensation.

Which is where our giveaway comes in.

(Like my segue? I thought so.)

Boudreaux’s Butt Paste is the only brand that I’ve found doesn’t sting Noah’s butt, and therefore saves my ears from his unkindly screams.

He actually likes the stuff.

So much so, in fact, that he’s begun requesting it by name.

Kinda.

Except that he clearly and loudly begs for “Butt Face!!!”

Then, to make the point of exactly what he wants, he rubs his butt, and then his face.

So every time he gets a random itch anywhere in the vicinity, he starts yelling out, “Butt Face, Mommy!! Put Butt Face on it!!!”

BlogHer and Boudreaux’s Butt Paste have generously offered to give one of you a $100 Visa Gift Card, just because they like you. They’ve also created this hilarious video, which had Ali giggling hysterically as we watched it:

If you’d like to win $100 with which to do whatever you like, tell me your best new parenting tip.

Sweepstakes Rules:

No duplicate comments.

You may receive (2) total entries by selecting from the following entry methods:

a) Leave a comment in response to the sweepstakes prompt on this post

b) Tweet (public message) about this promotion and/or to share the above video; including exactly the following unique term in your tweet message: “#SweepstakesEntry”; and leave the URL to that tweet in a comment on this post

c) Blog about this promotion and/or the above video, including a disclosure that you are receiving a sweepstakes entry in exchange for writing the blog post, and leave the URL to that post in a comment on this post

d) For those with no Twitter or blog, read the official rules to learn about an alternate form of entry.

This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail. You have 72 hours to get back to me, otherwise a new winner will be selected.

The Official Rules are available here.

This sweepstakes runs from 2/19/13 – 3/15/13

Be sure to visit the Boudreaux’s Butt Paste brand page on BlogHer.com where you can read other bloggers’ reviews and find more chances to win!

Disclaimer: This is a sponsored giveaway by Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. I was also awarded with a Butt Kit, and who wouldn’t want that? However, Butt Kit aside, all of my opinions are my own.

Things By Which I Puzzle.

February 12, 2013February 12, 2013 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, Do You Know? Because I Don't., Weird Strange and True

The phase “I’m an outdoors person.”

If so, then why do we refer to it in terms of not being inside of doors, which came…kinda…secondary?

Advertisements that proclaim

“ENTIRE STORE UP TO 40% OFF!!!”

make me have the following thought process:

UP to 40% off?

How many items, exactly, are actually 40% off, and how many items are more like 1% off?

(And also, do you realize that you just let me know that you have nothing in the store that is over 40% off? It’s kind of a bummer.)

Could you have a bell curve that shows the complete distribution of your percentage-off data points so that I can make an informed decision?

Or if that’s too much to ask, you could simply clue me in on the minimum percentage off.

In fact, I’d be much more likely to enter your store if it said,

“ENTIRE STORE AT LEAST 25% OFF!!”

Not that I tend to overthink.

Pap Smear.

The term doesn’t puzzle me – it just emphatically disgusts me.

Could we call it a Pap Swatch instead?

It sounds so much friendlier. And like something you wouldn’t mind wearing on your wrist.

OCD Medication.

My husband is OCD.

He knows he is OCD.

He has a deep reverence for his gift of OCD.

After an especially long episode of his nightly routine of triple-checking the locks, stove, coffeepot, and curling iron before bed, I told him,

“You know they make pills for that.”

And he laughed at me.

Because he is convinced that if he took a pill for that, then most assuredly the doors would all be wide open where thieves would come and go at will, all four stove eyes and the oven would be flaming despite the fact that I hadn’t cooked in a week, the coffeepot would be spewing eternal amounts of boiling water all night long, and the curling iron would melt the countertop off.

No OCD person would prefer not to be OCD – at least as long as they’re OCD, anyway.

Bobs shoes.

The Scene: The Skechers Boardroom.

The top executives are all sitting around, discussing ideas.

Exec 1: “How are we going to gain a competitive edge this year?”

Exec 2: “We have all sorts of fabulous marketing ideas! We will sell backwards-soled shoes that claim to make you lose weight because they’re so awkward to use. We will buy an extraordinarily cheesy advertising spot during the Miss America Pageant where they show all of the contestants wearing our shoes for a shopping trip and thereby proving that even they can go without stilettos when they find comfort in our fabulous shoes.”

Exec 1: “Yes, but how are we going to compete in the philanthropic market? Toms are killing us. Have you SEEN their slogans? People are drooling all over them because of how they give away a pair of shoes to a child in need for every pair bought!”

<SILENCE>

Exec 3: “I have an idea. It’s brilliant. It’s edgy. It’s original.”

Exec 1: “What?? What??”

Exec 3: “Let’s come out with an entirely new shoe line. Let’s make them look simple – kind of like a roll of toilet paper wrapped around a shoe sole. And let’s… are you ready for this? For every pair sold, let’s give away a pair to a child in need.”

Exec 1: “Genius!! Where did you come up with that inventive idea??”

Exec 3: “Sometimes my mind starts reeling and I just can’t help myself.”

Exec 1: “And what should we call these innovative new philanthropic shoes?”

Exec 3: “Bobs.”

Clothes that are black and white.

Do fabric manufacturers not understand how laundry loads work?? In which load do these dichotomous items belong – in the whites, darks, or lights??

I have been pondering this question my entire life, and I can say with certainty that there is no right answer.

What’s been puzzling you lately?

Southern Genetics.

February 11, 2013September 6, 2013 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, Just My Luck, Kids: The Experience., Quirky quirky quirkiness, Southern Dictionary

I’ve had a lot of requests for a Southern Dictionary.

Yes, we’re polite. We’re always sweet and nice. We smile at everyone and call strangers sweetie, honey, and sugar pie.

But we don’t always mean it. Any of it.

I thought everyone knew that the phrase “Bless Your Heart” equated to giving someone the finger, but apparently a lot of you did not.

So although I would like to have time to compile an entire Southern Dictionary for you, the thought overwhelms me and is best left to the professionals.

(Professionals like my friend Andrew at Okra Cola, who spent several years defining some of the most important southern expressions, like, for instance, “I looked all over hell and half of Georgia for that!”)

However, I do plan on sharing select subsets of Southernisms with you from time to time.

Today’s lesson is related in particular to the situation in which parents sometimes find themselves – when their children have certain traits that they themselves do not possess.

To recap quickly:

Southerners are friendly.
Southerners talk too much.
Southerners talk to strangers.
Southerners talk too much to strangers.
Southerners don’t mean exactly what they say.

So with that context, let’s begin.

When a woman is alone with her son, she might hear this uttered from a stranger’s mouth:

“Oh darlin’ – he must look jes’ like your husband!!”

The translation of this statement is, “I’m giving you the chance to jump in here and tell me that he does indeed belong to you. If you don’t, I’m going to start checking area Amber Alerts right here on my phone.”

When you’re with your husband and one of your children, you might catch a stranger looking closely at you, your husband, then your child.

“Heavens to Betsy!! Where did he get those pur-dee blue aaaaz?”

The translation of this question is, “Hey Dad, have you considered a paternity test? Because I would if I were you.”

If your other child walks up right while the stranger is examining the first piece of evidence, they’re likely to utter an exclamation and “I do declare!! They BOTH have blue eyes?? How on God’s Green Earth did THAT happen??”

The translation of this question is, “Now I KNOW you don’t think I’m that stupid. Go ahead. Tell me your deepest secrets. We all do it. ‘Fess up – where did you get these kids?”

Another stranger might try a different phrasing, such as:

“Sugah, do their Grandparents have blue eyes?”

The translation of this question is, “I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here. Work with me.”

If you have a child that has particularly Bertie-Botts-Every-Flavor Eyes, you might hear,

“I swannee!! Exactly what color are her eyes?”

Which translates into, “Dang. Those are some weird eyes.”

The questioning can go on for hours.

“Dimples! They have dimples too? I don’t see dimples on either of you two!”

“And her curls!! Where does she get those?”

“Now let’s chat about that blond hair, honey. Did you have blond hair as a baby? No? Well how about that husband of yours, then?”

When if they were really honest, they’d just go ahead and say,

“Honey. Darlin’. Sugah. If you think that I believe for one bloomin’ second that these little dumplins belong to you two, then you’re about as ignernt as a chicken walkin’ right into a pot pie. Bless your heart.”