Bupkis and Zits.

You know what I got today? Bupkis, that’s what.

So I’m going to talk about my giant zit.

Yes, you read that right.

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So you’d think that after all this time, at my age, I’d learn a thing or two about zits.

Don’t squeeze.

Don’t pick.

Don’t pop.

Bullshit is what I say to that.

I’ve got a cyst-like growth on my forehead right now. It has roots. I can feel them all the way down into my neck. I’ve had these before, always on my forehead. And I look terrible with bangs.

I have successfully not picked at one these suckers maybe twice in my entire life time. I thought maybe this one would be #3, but I failed. I did try.

The growth started about two weeks ago. I could feel the hard lump just under the skin when I was washing my face one night. I started to pay particular attention to it, to keep it from getting bigger. None of my known tactics helped. I tried peroxide/witch hazel solutions, zit cream, Neosporin and all my  washes, masks, lotions and potions to keep this sucker at bay. Nothing worked.

It did seem to shrink for a bit, only to come back with gusto. And pain. It was like I had a living being on my forehead because the constant throbbing was like a heartbeat. I’d sporadically touch my forehead to see if it has sprouted wings. Or claws. Or a tail.

So I squeezed. I pinched. Stuff oozed. I creamed and sanitized, hoping to keep the skin on top from drying out while attacking the infection beneath. I iced to keep the swelling down. This has been going on for THREE DAYS and still, there is an angry hard lump just below the surface and the more I squeeze, the more it oozes. It is the never-ending zit.

Now, in addition to the something-foul that lies just below the surface of my skin, I have a huge, ferociously red lump on my forehead. I’ve bruised the skin from attacking my face, all with the hopes of dislodging the evil core of nastiness that appears to be STUCK IN MY FOREHEAD.

Last night The Candyman came home while I was preparing dinner. I heard the front door open and I shouted to him, “I. AM. HIDEOUS!" in Quasimodo fashion. He replied with a “Huh?” as he walked around the corner. He looked at me and was all, “Oh! Holy shit. What’s up, Cyclops?”

Yeah, it’s that bad now.

So I have to leave the house. It’s flea market time and I’m meeting some folks today. All I can say is THANK GOD I look good in hats because otherwise, I’d be sporting enough pancake make-up to rival a geisha in order to “blend” the zit in with the rest of my face.

And we all know how good that looks.

One day I might learn not to pick at my face, but I seriously doubt it.

Update on Monday, January 9, 2012 at 8:06AM by Louise

Zit Update: After posting this, I was rummaging through my bathroom drawers and found a tube of prescription hemorrhoid cream (please don't ask why I have this). It said on the tube it was good for the reduction of swelling on minor abrasions as well....the obvious. So I slathered some on.

Result? It WORKED! However, there are so many one liners rolling around in my brain right now, I just can't stand it.

Nosy Bitches Non-Denominational Gift Giver

When I posted my Gift Giving Guide a week or so ago, I did it because I am involved in The First Twitter Friends Nosy Bitches Non-Denominational Gift Giver exchange. Here’s the inside joke:

There are many of us bloggers who also haunt Twitter. Now for those of you who don’t get Twitter, don’t use Twitter, don’t understand the need for Twitter – I get you. If I didn’t write a blog, it would be rather useless to me too. However, it’s a great way to market yourself if you’ve got a business or a product (I have both) and it keeps you in touch with other people in your same industry. And it’s fun.

For instance, yesterday Jenna Park of  Whimsy & Spice Brooklyn Confectioners (I mentioned her marshmallows in my Gift Guide and her blog is Sweet Fine Day) tweeted this golden nugget of love:

Go ahead. I’ll wait.

TOTALLY FANTASTIC, RIGHT?

I immediately shared it on my personal Facebook page and apparently one of my old college friends was in dire need of an emergency Hall & Oats fix and didn’t even know it.

So now you see the incredible value of Twitter, right? It’s about as important as Facebook.¹

So back to the Nosy Bitches. Inevitably, several NB’s will be in some back and forth tirade or conversation on Twitter. Someone else will jump on in the middle and will be all “WAIT! What’s going on?” and more often than not, politely interrupt and join the fun. Hence, Nosy Bitches.

Nosy Bitch Bunny from Bunnies ‘n Beagles collected all our info and set up a very easy exchange of names. I got my girl Kayce from Foodie Was Here (formerly a blogging bride at Shiny Pretty Bits) who was one of my very first sales from TruLu Couture! She’s got impeccable taste and I was SO worried about getting her something in the indicated price range that would fit her style.

16K matte gold plated double hoop earrings with lovely yellow jade beads from Etsy Shop Luna Shine Shine.

I thought these were just lovely. The seller was a sweetie-pie too. Kayce got them and said she liked them, so hooray! I know I would wear them, so I hope she can too!

Now, I got two packages over the course of this last week that didn’t say who they were from! I thought one was from my Nosy Bitch, but after a few inquiries (via Twitter, natch), I found out they were NOT my Nosy Bitch gift and that it would be on it’s way….soon.

I got it yesterday. I was going to wait to open it on Christmas (I LOVE WAITING TO OPEN CHRISTMAS GIFTS!) but couldn’t stand it. I’m so glad I didn’t wait.

My Nosy Bitch, one Ms. KA of  The Discerning Dilettante, is one creative chick. First, she sent me a copy of the super-cool non-profit art magazine she works for ESOPUS. No advertising and totally cool shit inside. I’m taking it with me on holiday so other family members can have a look-see (Flo, you should TOTALLY subscribe to this magazine). She also sent me a gift from my own Gift Guide: a bottle of hooch. Awesome, right? Then, then the Nosy Bitch went all super-sleuth and checked out my Pinterest Boards, specifically my Ballet board.

Now I love ballet. I love it from afar, mostly. I was never the ballerina type. Always too tall, too awkward, not thin enough, not nearly enough grace…never enough of all the things one might need to be a ballerina. I took an adult ballet class back in Chicago. It was fun but confirmed the fact that I am both a giant and still missing the ballerina gene.  In college, as part of my Costume Construction Technology degree, I had to work back stage at the operas and ballets. I had to make a classical pancake tutu (SHOOT ME NOW). I had to do the costumes and stage hair and make-up for the ballerinas and had to hear oh my god I ate an entire cup of yogurt today on a regular basis. It was more than annoying.

Once I had them out of earshot, dressed and on stage, I’d park myself in a corner backstage and watch. They would twirl on their toes and leap through the air, muscles clenching and releasing, neck tendons standing out with the effort. Whether they were playing the part of the Sugar Plum Fairy or a member of the corps de ballet they all looked so beautiful and effortless, but I know differently. They’d come off stage, heaving for breath, sweating like pigs, bent over at the waist with hands on hips looking like I did when I finished my first marathon, sans tutu, of course. The dedication to the dance is one to be revered and respected.

Soooooo, when I opened my Nosy Bitch gift  card, Ill admit I got a little choked up. She wrote:

As a young dancer I covered my closet in ballet clippings (wasn’t allowed to damage the bedroom walls) and though it’s long overdue to be dismantled, I didn’t want to just throw it all away. So voila, Untitled Ballet Collage #1.

Framed ballet collage, hooch and Esopus.

I was so touched. The little framed collage is going up in my studio. For inspiration. How can one not be inspired from the closeted dance collage of a young woman?

So to the Discerning Dilettante? Thank you so much! I can’t think of a gift (from a stranger, at that) that hit all my soft spots (art, booze, more art) so succinctly! THANK YOU!

I just love Christmas, don’t you?

¹If you don’t read sarcasm very well, it’s not all my fault. Tone, inflection and eye rolling  are difficult to convey via the typewritten word.

Because Sometimes Weddings Are Funny

I just loved these shots from photographer BG Pictures Photography.

Because golf carts are FUN!

When Glitter Goes Wrong

When I put my virtual pen to paper, most days I have a general idea of what I want to write about. I think y’all know by now that I’m a pretty stream-of-consciousness type writer with poor editing skillz.

Yesterday, I was thinking about what to write for today. No scheduled sponsored posts or Unfake Weddings. Nothing to report here that you can’t find else where on the Blogosphere (OH MY GOD! Alfred Angelo knocked off the Carolina Herrera Bella Swan wedding gown! For $799!). I actually considered writing a “what I’m thankful for” post. But instead (and happily for you guys) I took a swig of my Two Buck Chuck to clear the almost-vomit from my mouth as well as that boring thought from my brain.  In my blog-apathy, I jumped on Twitter for a little internet trolling.

Fucking jackpot.

I found me some serious Blog Drama. I thought I had blog drama? Oh no, my little chickadees. I ain’t got NUTHIN’ on yesterday’s shenanigans.

OK, so I’m sitting here wondering if I should do all the linking to all the articles and shit that were flying all around everywhere and methinks NO because I don’t necessarily care to increase the traffic to some of these sites. I think I’ll just mention the people and you guys can find it all yourselves, if you’re so inclined.1

It all started with what was a pretty innocent tweet from bad-ass wedding blogger, East Side Bride. She’s snarky to the n^th degree and tells it like it is. I like her. The tweet in question was one that expressed a hint of snarky, but was mostly benign in nature  in regards to a DIY project that was posted on the “lifestyle” blog Oh Happy Day! In the opinion of T30SB? It was a really stupid project that was made to look slightly less stupid by nice photography. I thought the snark-o-tweet was justifiable.

Apparently the tweet was NOT appreciated by OHD. There was some back and forth between ESB and OHD. OHD  got her DIY panties in a twist. ESB fueled the fire and retaliated on her blog. Personally, I thought the retaliation was brilliantly funny. It started what I thought was an awesome thread full of “let’s make fun of stupid shit on the internet” sarcasm. I mean, we’re all fodder for it, are we not?

Then the shit got personal.

Someone found an article where OHD was quoted about her Mormonism, Prop 8 and black people. The quote was creepy, at best. It gave me the impression that she was against Prop 8 (anti-gay marriage) as were many of her fellow church goers, but then it was followed by weirdness regarding why protesters weren’t visiting predominantly black churches instead of her nice, white Mormon church (I’m paraphrasing for emphasis). The whole article made me feel slightly icky.

So folks were commenting on ESB  and Twitter, all up in OHD’s shit. I had to go make dinner so made myself STEP AWAY FROM THE LAPTOP. Let me tell you, it was like it was 1991 all over again and I was forcing myself NOT to finish reading John Grisham’s The Firm while driving. It was that good.

Fast forward to a lazy morning with The Candyman, some coffee and whoa! some shit happened last night. Some super-sleuth person did some amazeballz  journalistic, stalker-style internet shit and found a public record where OHD had made a donation of $250 IN SUPPORT of Prop 8. And they linked it.

Uh oh. Little Miss I’m So Liberal might be experiencing that god-awful taste of shoe-leather right about now.

That’s the rub about the internet. That damn accountability thing is a total bitch. You cannot hide on the internet. Ever. Fucking caches.

And this is what can happen when you write about making glitter-handled faux flatware as a hostess gift: you get your maybe-white-supremacist, anti-gay marriage views splattered across the interwebs for all the world to judge.

And I thought ragging on polyester gowns was bad….

*As a totally different aside, I found this article today. I’ve bookmarked it for future reading. I plan on visiting this article when I think I’m having a bad day. Based on some of these stories, whatever bullshit I think I might be enduring will seem like peonies and pizza in comparison. Enjoy. Or not.

Oh yeah…. HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

1OK, OK. You can find all the drama linked in the comments section of ESB's post from yesterday as well as on her Twitterfeed.

Love Notes

Guess what, y’all? Guess where I am?

Well, at this precise moment, I’m contemplating a pajama drive through at Starbucks, as I’m lying in bed at my friend’s house in NASHVILLE! Did you hear me? NASHVILLE! I’m so excited to be here! I’ve returned for my friend’s 30th birthday (Happy Birthday, Alecia!) and I just couldn’t be more excited!

But all Alecia has is an espresso machine and I don’t know how to work those things without coffee already in me, so I’m a little slow on the uptake right now. *yawn*

I’ve left The Candyman to his own devices which is never a good thing. I actually had to pre-cook a lasagna AND roast a chicken to try to ensure that he would eat relatively healthy versus junk food the whole time. Why do men behave in such ways in the absence of the wife? I just don’t get it, but they all do it.

So in order to remind The Candyman of my presence, I left him a few reminders around the house…

In the sugar bowl…

On the coffee canister.

On the ready-to-cook hamburger patties.

In the shower.

In and on his drawers. (The color brings out the blue in his eyes!)

There are one or two more hidden here and there.  There’s not telling I if he found them yet. Do you write your honey love notes? Do tell.

And don’t forget! Make sure you leave a comment to enter to win the FREE Melissa Sweet Wedding Gown!

Nashville? Here I come. I’ve missed you so….