My dog, Scarlett, the F*ckstick

The girls take the best pictures of Fuckstick.

Lately, I have been using the word "Fuckstick," to describe various people that get on my nerves.  Mostly, I call my dog, Scarlett, Fuckstick, because she is so annoying.  I mean, I love her and all, but I am totally schizo on her ass, all the time.  One minute I am loving her and petting her, mostly at night and in the morning, but the majority of the time, I just yell at her and move her out of the way.

Somehow, Fuckstick has picked up on the notion that everyone else in the family has adopted, that if you bug me enough, you will get what you want from me.  Brad is the very instigator of this idea, natch.

Each night, Fuckstick sleeps with either Hallie or Mills, and EVERY night I have to have some sort of half-hearted conversation with the one who's night is not TONIGHT.  I think it's cute that Fuckstick takes up their whole pillow before they are able to get in bed.  She literally lays in bed with her head on the pillow like a people. (That is how we say it in my house, in HER voice, as in "I lika sit in the front seat like a people.")  She is so sweet at night and she can barely keep her double eyelids open. She is a Lab, and they have "double eyelids" to shield her eyes, when she is swimming, did you know that?
(Fun Fuckstick Facts, y'all.)

In the morning, she makes us all laugh, because her "reservoir" is full, again, and she is hellbent on destroying my day.  It's funny, at first, because Fuckstick will keep licking you until she gets her breakfast.  She even licks your pant legs.  It's odd and humorous at first, but then it just starts to annoy you.

Fuckstick uses licking as a form of aggression.  I have never seen anything like it.  If my daughter, Eva, is pulling her tail, she will lick Eva's teeth and tongue, and whole face until she falls backwards and does a back bend, and then she just stands over her, as if she is rabid, and continues to slather her with her newly acquired Butt mouth, until you have to turn away.  I mean, I am no Joe Pa, but I do ignore a lot of things that are unsanitary.

I love how she goes back for a last few licks.  Hilarious.

I guess, as a Mother, it should be MY responsibility to stop Fuckstick, but I have all but given up, and it allows me time before Eva starts bugging me about her breakfast.

Anyway, Fuckstick, usually eats her breakfast, outside by the garage, which I immediately shut once the kids walk to school, and she proceeds to terrorize every single person who dares to walk down our street.  You see, we are on the corner, so she sits out at the far edge of our yard so that she may have a full view of either street that is unfortunate enough to comprise our intersection.

She just sits there, like a Jeanie bottle, surveying the streets for unsuspecting dog walkers.  Most people know her by name.  I find it fascinating that children and adults, alike, will stop and kick the ball with Scarlett and call her by name, when I have never met them in my life.

I am painting a positive picture of Fuckstick, but now let me give you a glimpse into her dark side.  Sometimes, just for fun, if I let her out the garage/kitchen door, she will tearass across the yard, like Old Yeller at the end, bucking and attack barking, with her invisible fence collar swinging from side to side (it is supposed to be tight), and two tufts of hair will emerge along the spine of her back, and she will literally scare the shit out of some unknowing passerby, just for kicks.

One day, I noticed she had a young boy, who was innocently walking to school with his hoodie on, pinned up against my neighbor's bushes, afraid to move, across the street.  Even though they had a road between them,the boy was positively terrified.  Fuckstick was carrying on like she had discovered the Unibomber, and I literally thought he had peed his pants.

Naturally, I told him to put his hood down, so she would back off, but I ended up escorting him to the next block, after cajoling Fuckfstick inside, he was so shaken.  I guess Holmes will be taking another path to school after that episode. 

She did the same thing one afternoon to a new mother and her pram. I figured she deserved it for the shear reason that she even had a pram.  We do not live in pre-Civil war England, and prams last about two, three months tops.  To be honest, I am just a hater because I always had incredibly lame strollers that no one in their right mind would want to walk their babies in.

Actually, I have often fantasized, when I see some new suburban mom with her pram, of buying an antique pram, in which I would place some random piece of meat or a zuchini or something, dressed up in American Girl clothing with a face that I Magic Markered on it, only to have unsuspecting passersby, lean in, while I am taking a walk, and see their expressions on their faces when they discovered that I was pushing around a fully dressed legume.

This all stems from my fascination with street folk in large cities that do random things like that, that one would EXPECT, only I would be dressed to the nines, while I push my vegetable baby throughout the neighborhood.  I see street people as inspired, really, rather than damaged and mentally ill.  It is a fine line, mi amigos, a fine line, indeed.

I think applying "street people principles" to everyday suburban life makes for good entertainment.  Imagine the fun you could have on recycling day, when they find you curled up in a cardboard box along side your bin of bottles?  I could go on forever, here.

ANYWAY, this time,  Fuckstick broke through her invisible fence, only to stick her head in the stroller and slather the infant with sloppy kisses.  I seriously thought I was going to have a lawsuit over that one.  Luckily, she was traveling with a friend who was walking her dog, and her friend was able to calm the new Mom down, because she had not had children yet, so her dog was really important to her, so I assume, she saw Fuckstick as a sympathetic figure.

Here is a video of Fuckstick being told to get off of our bed.  Just to flip us the middle pad, she drags her back feet, which inevitably causes her schwina to rub across my (in this case) fresh bedding.  I have never seen a dog do this in my entire life, and I have to conclude that this is Fuckstick specific.  Feel free to correct me if I am wrong.

The first time she did this in front of Brad, he goes, "Oh my Gawd, did she just wipe her..." he stops himself, because some of the girls were in the room, and continues, "privates on our bed?"

The girls were roaring with laughter and I go, "Yea.  She likes to do it on your side the most."

Here's another one - with the bed MADE.

Yes, I actually MADE the bed, so that I could make a video of my dog wiping her schwina on our quilt.  What is wrong with that?  A lot of things.  Too many to count.  I think the making of the bed is the worst of them.

She only does this on our bed, and the only piece of furniture in the house that was made this decade, our couch in the basement.  (That's right, beeeattchhes, I'm all about the throw pillow and the paint colors.  Surprising?  I didn't think so.)  I would like to think that it is because they are both low to the ground, but who am I kidding.  This is Fuckstick we're dealing with here. 

Tonight, though, my daughter Mills said she was afraid that her friends would make fun of her, if she slept with Scarlett.  I immediately became defensive and asked her why she thought anyone would even THINK to make fun of her for sleeping with her dog.

Mills replied, "Because they might think that it is dirty."

My mind immediately went to the probability equation that one of her friends would know the ratio of dirt between our sheets and the dog, and then my second feeling was one of extreme protectiveness for Fuckstick.

That is how I know I deeply love her, and secretly think that the things that she does are amusing.


I retorted with, "Be your own person, Mills.  If sleeping with your filthy dog makes you happy, then your should shout it to the World."

Do you think she bought it?  She seemed to.

love it.

Dr. Donaldson - The Sequel

Before pic.  Hint:  I'm the one on the right.  No, YOUR right.

Okay.  So last week I had my "consultation" appointment at Dr. Donaldson's office (http://www.donaldsonplasticsurgery.com).  To refresh your memory, see post http://gratuitousguidance.blogspot.com/2011/10/at-your-peak.html.  We had arranged a time, where I would literally walk through what a normal ("normal" being the operative word, natch) patient would experience during a regular consultation.  I had decided on the "Mommy Makeover".  This entails a breast lift, breast implants, tummy tuck, and liposuction.

Dr. Donaldson informed me that he did not coin the phrase "Mommy Makeover", a surgeon out of California did, but "it just stuck", and now everyone uses it.  Kinda like "Xerox," I guess.  ANYWAY, just because you request the Mommy Makeover, does not mean that you receive everything on the menu.  Think of the breast implants as the main course and the rest as side dishes, based up on your "condition".

For instance, MY rock star body only needed breast implants, and if I really wanted it, a mini-tuck. I guess what happens when you grow another life in your uterus, is that your muscles in your upper torso, separate, and they do not go back.  The good doctor demonstrated this by having me do a half sit up, (yes, I was still half naked) as he pressed his fingers in the crevasse that has developed between the first four muscles of my nonexistent six pack.  This exercise was both illuminating and humiliating at the same time.  Yet, another reminder of what used to be - kind of like my sense of shame, and the definition between my butt and the top of the backs of my legs.  During the measurement phase of the consultation, Dr. Donaldson declared that I was "a perfect isosceles triangle" and that they see that only once a month.  To which I replied, "Stiiiillll got it," which I don't.  That's the joke, get it?

Okay, before you start imagining what he is talking about, let me elaborate.  He was saying that my breasts were equidistant, with the center of my neck.  It was just so surreal.  One minute you are (what I like to think of myself) a reporter, and the next you are taking your top off and your subject is face to face with your naked body.  It reminded me of my "casting couch" days during my "I'm gonna go to Hollywood and be a star" phase after high school. 

He had me put on what he called "surgical footies" while he measured me.  Is this weird?

Standard Procedure

Next Dr. Donaldson is taking digital pictures of my bare torso, which I now understand is going to be used as blackmail when I become a big star.  Of course, that will be after I get my double D implants, that will rest on the table as I do book signings.

It's funny, because the night of my consultation, I went to a party, and I was relaying some of this material there, sort of like a comic might try a bit out in a nightclub - only we were in a basement playing foosball.  Who cares?  Same dif.  Anyway, as I recanted some of the events of that previous morning, I was met with expressions of horror, confusion, and amazement.

As I tried to explain, that this was "an assignment for my blog" and that it was all part of a "business proposition,"  it became abundantly clear that I had been duped by my business associate Marcy Fleisher (http://www.facebook.com/marcy.fleisher), of http://www.fleishercommunicationsgroup.com/.  "Risk free PR", my ass. 

I was so afraid of "whoring myself out" for my blog, to gain free shit, only to whore myself for the general  amusement of the masses.  Now, that, I can live with.  But, make no mistake, my standards are much lower than the average "reporter". Again, no boss, no defined job description or expectations.  Sooooo freeing!

Maybe that is my new hook.  I could just accept assignments in which I make a total ass of myself and then I can relate my experiences to all of you.  Gawd knows that I am running out of material in my real life.  Not really.  I have a million degrading stories in my lifetime to keep this blog going forever.  And the beauty is, that I am making bad decisions every day, so this factory isn't about to shut down anytime soon.

Seriously, I took this challenge, so that I may learn more about not only the industry of plastic surgery, but also the motivation a patient has to actually make an appointment, and then follow through with a procedure.

After my peep show with Dr. Donaldson and his nurse, (who was AWESOME, by the way - she let me poke her implants, but that was strictly clinical) we sat down and he showed me before and after shots of several of his patients.  I assumed these were his "success stories,"  as each of the transformations were truly life changing.

At first, I amused myself by imagining local celebrities, and those who consider themselves celebrities, as the naked torsos were presented to me, one by one.   But, then I just became mesmerized.

Genetics play a huge role in a person's aging process, and let's just be honest, some of us, were apparently dealt the Joker card, me included.  I was shown women who had lost a ton of weight and their bodies did not "bounce back" as they would have hoped.  I was given the privilege of viewing the bodies of patients who clearly make it their job to eat right and exercise like a crazy person, but their efforts were not reflected.  I can totally understand where someone would want to have actual breasts that would fill out their padded push up bra.  Think that chick (the obvious hold out) on Baywatch that was so flat chested you wanted to hug her. Growing her hair out was a major improvement, but I can't say that if I were next to Pamela Anderson and heroin addicted, Yasmine Bleeth, I might reconsider my boobs, as well.


Basically, each set of Before and After photos began to tell a story to me.  Not of desperate women who were trying to attract I don't know what (well, yes I do - douche bag men), but women who are using the technology that is available today to change something about themselves that has always, or in the last few childbearing experiences, bothered them to the point that they have become debilitatingly self-conscious.

Now, I am no fool.  I know that this is not the perspective of all of the plastic surgery candidates out there (read The Real Housewives of Whatever), it is just a point of view I had not considered before. 

It is interesting to note, that while Dr. Donaldson and I were having our sit down, I was wearing two different types of breast implants (saline and silicone) that were two different sizes.  I kept squeezing them as we talked, which now, looking back, would have been unnerving to anyone else, but not old Donaldson.  He wasn't phased a bit.  Respect.

They were HUGE, by the way, and I had not experienced THAT size since Hallie's, my first child's birth, when the La Leche representative recommended that I pump AND breastfeed.  Both Dr. Donaldson and his nurse agreed that that was the size that my "broad upper chest" demanded.  Subtext:  your actual breasts are halfway to your belly button, and what is left is a virtual empty apartment building in need of some tenants.

Okay, this is Eve's birth, but you get the idea if you multiply those puppies by like 10.

So, while I am feeling myself up and chatting with Dr. Donaldson, I, of course, accuse him of not being able to look at my face, and this would be the challenge I would be presented with, if I did, in fact, get implants, and that it was extremely important that people respect me for my mind.  He assured me that a lot of people with big boobs are smart, but when pressed to name one, he could only come up with Dolly Parton.  (That last line didn't happen at all.  Okay, I am a reporter who makes stuff up.  Unprecedented.)

Anyway, at the end of our conversation, Dr. Donaldson related that he is very proud of "the opportunity to change people's lives."  I then asked him if he had a God complex, because at that point I decided I would act like an attorney, as well, as a reporter, and he just laughed.  That haughty, elitist laugh of his, where he throws his head back, and bellows a deep, throaty, condescending laugh.  I'm embellishing, again, he just laughed like someone who thought I was ridiculous.

I have my OWN reasons for not getting implants, even though my chest (and my husband) is literally begging for them.  Aside from not wanting to endure the risks of surgery, I would have a hard time reconciling my decision to my three daughters, whom I am trying to instill positive body images.

Dr. Donaldson also has a daughter, and he fully relates to this issue.  When I asked him if, when his daughter were 18 years of age, he would allow her to get breast implants, he replied, "After examining the reasons WHY she wanted the implants...if the issue were say, that she did not feel feminine or something, then, yes, given the fact that she is eighteen, and is legally afforded the right to make her own decisions about her body, yes, I would consent to her getting implants."

I think everybody knows that eighteen-year-old girls are going to do what they set their minds to, with or without the consent of their parents, so if they bother to consult you at all, is a step in the right direction.

I am having a recovered memory of when I was a Freshman in high school and I was not allowed to wear make up  (I know, how Footloose of my parents, right?  I wasn't allowed to date, either.  I danced a lot, though.) .  Rather than sneak make up in my purse like every other girl my age, I decided to state my case to my Mother, who was the real driving force behind the ban.  My Mom felt that I did not need make up, and that it was just opening up this Pandora's box that would enable me to look like a dime store hooker every time I left the house.

My argument was that make up is used to enhance your features.  It doesn't have to be this face painting exercise that was going on in the Girls Restroom at Eastern High. 

My Mom did the right thing.  She took me to the Clinique counter at Lazarus, and bought me some powder, blush, mascara, and a very natural, demure lipstick. The associate taught me how to apply it, and it is a very fond memory of mine with my Mom.  (We tended to fight in Malls, mostly, so this one sticks out.)  I also got skin care, which is a ritual that I have used every night and morning since.  I am fairly sure one of the sets, either the make up or the skin care, was a free gift with purchase, but whatever.  It was a great memory for two reasons, really, because I presented my case, she saw my point of view, and she compromised. 

The bar is raised now, obviously, and we will be discussing implants and Restylane with our daughters, instead of skincare and eyeshadow.  My guidance today is to decide how you feel about plastic surgery and other "enhancement" products on the market, currently, so that you are prepared to intelligently discuss these issues with your daughters.  Whether or not, you choose to compromise or not, is your decision.  All kidding aside, I saw my job in these two posts, as a presentation that represented all sides of the argument.

Anyway, I got the implants, and I have never felt more confident.

Shopping for halter tops with my new boyfriend.  Who needs Brad, now that I have these knockers?

Sista Wivery

She hates that headband, but her Mimi and I make her wear it.  At the end of the day, it really is all about US.  When she complains that it is tight, I always tell her, "Beauty hurts."  And it does. 

There's just somethin' about a little girl in a tutu that gets me everytime.

I was going to do this post on free things you can do with your children, but now I realize that that is too boring and positive.  Instead, I would like to talk about sista wivery.  Sista wives are like Sister wives, only cooler, see?  My sista wife, Jen, who is also my manager, (what you think that is too enmeshed? Enmeshment is the very embodiment of sista wivery.  No boundaries, get it?) and I share our children every Tuesday and Thursday.  Mia and Eva are both four-years-old, and they attend the same pre-school class, go to the same ballet/tap class, and they engage in the same "afternoon enrichment program" - Munchin' and Movin'.  This is all done for the convenience of their Mothers' schedules.  They basically did not know each other before this year, and my sista wife and I, decided they should be friends and spend all of their free time together.  Again, who needs to be Mormon to be or have a sista wife?  Not me.  I just have adopted a lot of their priniciples surrounding raising children with another family.

Mia and Eves.  BFF's because we SAID SO!

My sista wife, Jen, sends me a text every Monday, that details my schedule, regarding the children and their social lives.  She delivers this from her lightening quick Blackburrry, and I do whatever she tells me to do.  No questions asked.  Here is an example of a text:

Mon: Jen to and from (this means preschool)
Tues: Eva here AM, Jen to and from
Wed and Thurs: Johnna to and from, don't forget ballet.
We need pumpkins for school. 
Pick us up 2 at GE SW.

Gratuitous Guidance: Wtf  is GE SW?

Jen: Giant Eagle Sista Wife!!

LOVE IT!!!!!!!

Luckily, our children all get along really well, I think, because WE are such good friends and our children reflect different aspects of our individual personalities.

Look at her, all up in my Bizzness.

 I am a stay at home Mom, and my forte is menial repetitive tasks. (I also am proficient in taking orders from people who drop their s's and cannot pronounce their r's.  Example:  MOOOOOOM, you were aposed to find my 'pecial 'tuffed aminal for Shaowww Day!) If there is any change in my routine, it must be documented and then regurgitated to me at least four or five times before I will get it.  The fact that Jen just sends me an electronic memo is priceless.  We are so past apologizing for being direct or worrying if one person has more responsibility than the other.

As a result, we each have two girls that have something to look forward to, socially, twice a week, and we are each afforded a free day, sans the cost of childcare, to do whatever we want.  Our carpool is rock star status, and I am enjoying more freedom than I have ever dreamed of this year.

Now, if I can just get my sista wife to move in and share the responsibilities of cooking and cleaning.  Who am I kidding?  We would just end up drinking coffee and then wine all day, while we watched E!

Anyway, this does qualify as "Free things you can do with your kids" - only you are the one who stands to benefit the most.  Who cares?  It's a win-win.

Go get yourself a sista wife.  The parameters are as follows:

1. You need to be good friends with the mom, so there are no annoying uncomfortable pleasantries exchanged.  It's all business.

2. I think the children need to be at least 4-years-old.  Otherwise you are babysitting, and that just sucks.  In that case, just stick to carpooling.  Let them socialize at wherever you are taking them.

3.  Resist the urge to hang out together. Get your shit done.  You can always hang out with each other and your kids because you are friends, and you will anyway.

4. At first Jen and I were planning on "outdoing" each other on our playdate days, by taking the girls out to lunch or to the Zoo.  This NEVER happenned and the girls are lucky if their chicken nuggets are warm and they get to "skip" in the parking lot on their way into school.  My point is, just treat your sista wife's kids as your own, and don't try and make a big deal out of things.  It is just wasted energy.  At that age, kids just want to play.  Let them, and go back to watching your stories.

5.  Make sure any extracurricular activities the children do are in tandem.  Don't break the chain.  If you start to introduce them to new people and interests, it will become more and more difficult to manipulate them.

Hilarious.  This is obviously going South.  I need to stop.

Obvious Guidance Statement:  Get yo'self a sista wife, Fool!

Unhealthy Obsession #2

Unhealthy Obsession #2: The series Homeland  (http://www.sho.com/site/homeland/home.sho) on Showtime.  Seriously, this is the best series I have seen since The Wire.  I know, Connie Stidham, that is a strong statement.  So, let me state my case before you go all Woodford-fueled, ape shit on me.

First of all Homeland comes on Sunday nights after Dexter.  Seriously, y'all.  I would choose Showtime over HBO in a heartbeat.  They just have better shows and better movies.  HBO hasn't really been good since The Sopranos.

Oh, and by the way, the season finale, and really the entire last season, of Entourage SUCKED.  There, now I feel better.  What a sellout piece of shit show. It just turns my stomach. Whatever happened to writers having a responsibility not to tie everything up into a neat little bow, so that people can feel good.  We didn't.  We all felt bad, because that is not the way life turns out.  Turtle doesn't become a millionaire.  Get real, Turtle ends up turning tricks for smack on Hollywood Boulevard.  That is real life. And THAT would have made me feel satisfied. But, hey, I am just one person.  Mine are obviously acquired tastes.

ANYWAY, Showtime has A-list actors, not celebrities,  but actual character ACTORS, that are headlining EVERY SINGLE ONE of their series.  They even have Academy Award winning actors as guest stars and in supporting roles.  Here is a line up of shows on Showtime that I adore:  Homeland, Dexter, Californication, Shameless, United States of Tara (see post: http://gratuitousguidance.blogspot.com/2011/05/united-states-of-tara-and-celebrity.html ) , The Big C, and Nurse Jackie, of course.

Gigolos is good for a laugh, if you are entertained by the stupidest men on the planet conversing with one another, while they glisten from baby oil. One of the gigolos' name is actually "Brace".

No, it is not scripted (if you believe reality T.V. does not have scripts), it is a reality show - and people, gigolos have real problems, just like the rest of us.  They are just are tan year round, and have whiter teeth.

Gigolos definitely has it's place in my heart.  It is also extremely kinky, almost embarrassingly so - I am blushing a little just recalling some of the content, as I recommend this to you.  Let me just leave you with this, I had no idea executive assistants and paralegals had such large disposable incomes. I guess it's all in the budgeting, really. 

Oh Gawd, I just realized that with my readership base, I have just done a post promoting Gigolos, and not my favorite show, Homeland.  NIIIICCCCCEEE. Oh well, I can just do what I do here, what you choose to take away from my art is your own business.

Back to Showtime and their stellar lineup.  I think that House of Lies looks really enticing.  It's debut season begins in January.  It features Don Cheadle, who I am a HUGE fan of.  Shameless is headlined by William H. Macy and Emmy Rossum.  It just aired it's first season, and it is uniquely unapologetic. 

Homeland is on its 5th episode and I am positively obsessed with it.  I have actually caught myself wondering about character arcs and developments, while I am driving the kids around.  I have loved Claire Danes since My So-Called Life.  She had a little personal hiccup, when she took up with Billy Crudup (of Almost Famous fame) who had impregnated Weeds' (also on Showtime) star Mary Louise Parker, just a short 8 months before that.  She is now married to Hugh Dancy, who is British and HOT, and she seems to be on the right track with this series called Homeland.


Homeland is about Carrie Mathison (Danes), a bipolar FBI agent, in the anti-terrorism unit.  During her assignment in Baghdad, she caused an International incident, when she infiltrated a prison to extract intelligence information from an inmate and source there, and the last words he said to her as she was being dragged away by guards were, "An American Prisoner of War has been turned."

Fast forward to Marine Sergeant "Nick" Brody (played to perfection by Damien Lewis), is discovered in an underground prison in Afghanistan.  After eight years of captivity and torture, he returns home to two teenage children he does not know, and a wife who was just recently having an affair with his best friend.

Carrie (Danes) is convinced that Sgt. Brody is hiding something and may very well be the "turned P.O.W." described in Baghdad.  This series tackles so many issues that one would think that the viewer would get lost in the detail, but the characters are so believable and vulnerable and human, that although Brody may be a budding terrorist, you actually find yourself empathizing with him. (Listen, I would NEVER normally find a terrorist sympathetic, you just aren't convinced he is one.)

Homeland is a thriller in every sense of the word, as it presents you with each piece of the puzzle, accompanied each piece's opposing sides, and the emotions and situations that can blur a person's definitions of right and wrong. 

And when Carrie (Danes) breaks about a hundred laws by running her own personal surveillance on the most intimate and heartbreaking moments between a family that is trying to acclimate to their new broken situation, you are rooting for her, even though she is admittedly bipolar and prone to obsessive compulsiveness.

The back stories of each of these characters are fascinating and realistic and the series, itself, just makes for good storytelling, while tackling modern issues like The Patriot Act, torture, and corruption and politics within the military and governmental agencies like Homeland Security.

This is a suspenseful, intelligent, and well written and acted piece of material.  Give up your usual stupid reality show one night and give it a try.  All of the episodes are ON DEMAND and it's not too late to catch up!

Pinterested Much?

Love this.  So Free.

My three latest obsessions are the website Pinterest, the Showtime Series "Homeland" (http://www.sho.com/site/homeland/home.sho), and free meals or free things you can do with your kids (http://www.kidseatfor.com/metro/oh/columbus/).

Let's start with the website "Pinterest"(http://pinterest.com/). My friend, Cindy (http://gocfit.com/) , calls it "the biggest time suck of the moment," and it is.  First of all, I LOVE that they have to "invite" you to the site, which, of course, implies elitism, which I am a BIG fan of.  The fact that you have to be "invited" must be some sort of marketing ploy, because I am fairly sure that they do not do a background check, because if they did, I would have been turned away, natch.

ANYWAY, enough with my sordid historic dirty laundry, what's COOL about Pinterest (http://pinterest.com/), is that it is NEW, and it has not been tainted by social media, YET.  It is on the verge, though, just waiting to be discovered by big business and advertising.  I just love that moment in "The Social Network" where Mark Zuckerbergs's (played by Jesse Eisenberg) business partner, Andrew Garfield (played by Eduardo Saverin) is pushing him to put advertising on "The Facebook" (http://www.facebook.com/), and he says, "No, we don't want to do that yet because we don't know what it is yet."  His partner responds, "Well, what is it then?" And then, the character playing Mark Zuckerberg says, "We don't know what it is yet.  It's just COOL."  That is the stage at which Pinterest is now.  It is just COOOOOLLLL.

It's funny because social media has become a necessary part of everyone's individual and business public relations strategy. Don't you find it astounding that what started out as a deranged college prank is now a cornerstone of marketing for everyone?

ANYWAY, I digress, AGAIN.  So, I was going to write about my three last time-sucks, but now I am realizing that they can EACH take up an entire post.  Yea for me, and you, I guess.

Pinterest (http://pinterest.com/) is SOOO awesome.  You can surf it without signing up, but the social marketing element, I realized, is in the REPINNING.

I find it really funny, though, that I tend to find the things that my friends pin, the most "pinnable".  Wait, I need to stop here, I just got a text that I got repinned.

What's cool about Pinterest, is that it is more interpersonal than Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/).  It has the "Like" button, but if you "repin" someone, it is more of a sign of respect.  Pinterest (http://pinterest.com/) is about ideas that other people find interesting, whether it be art, music, recipes, interesting rooms, or ideas for a child's birthday party.  If someone compliments what you find intriguing , then, they are, in part, applauding what is in your soul.

I guess it will get to the point like Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/) has, where people will engineer the pictures or messages that they want others to believe about them.  But, for now it seems PURE, and it seems to support only feelings that people have about certain subjects, whether they originate a pin, or repost something they find interesting.


It just goes to show you that images are very powerful.  As much as I love the written words, sometimes there just ARE no words to describe something.  Like this, for instance.

I mean, they look really difficult to walk in, too.  Random.  Who thinks up this shit?  I know who reposts it, though.

What is also great, if you happen to own a Mac, is that you can just drag an image into IPhoto and share it with other people.  Like this.

How effing cool is this?  And so warm.

Love display o' liquor ideas.

This is for you, Mom.

Reminds me of Mills.

My dream house in Colorado.

My friend, Megan, turned me on to searching for improper and sometimes just downright filthy subjects, like beastiality, or penis envy.  Here's what came up.

The ONLY thing that came up.  Disappointing, really.

The caption reads, "Penis bush".  Hilarious.

How weird is that?  But, at the same time hilarious. I plan on putting this under "Inspired Ideas".  I mean, I am DYING to post this on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/).  Can you imagine?  Just posting this picture, and then adding the caption, "Penis bush is in full bloom.  Ahhh, I just love Spring."

But, then again, who needs Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/), when you have this blog, right?

My advice to you, today, is to get on Pinterest (http://pinterest.com/), and follow me.  It is one hundred times better than Twitter, in my eyes.  I won't steer you wrong, I promise.  My social networking plan on Pinterest (http://pinterest.com/) is to thoroughly entertain you without saying a word.

Enjoy the recesses of my brain, y'all!  Bring a flashlight.  It's dark in there.

At your peak

 I recently spent a considerable amount of time with the Kardashian family.  Unless you have been living under a rock, (or banging two together to make fire like her new beau), Kim Kardashian just got married to Kris Humphries, a dead ringer for Neanderthal man.  Y'all, I am positively convinced that he is the modern genetic link between apes and humans.  Here, draw your own conclusions.

Neanderthal Man

Kris Humphries

Anyway, I watched several back to back episodes of the Kardashian wedding on E! one rainy afternoon and evening (it took about 6 hours with all of the child interruptions, natch), and the one thing that I took away from it (other than the fact that like 5 third world countries could be fed for a month, for the cost of a wedding that at best will last that long) was the scene in which Kim and Kris Humphries announced to Kim's Mom that they intended to get married in three months.  When Kim's Mom inquired as to what the rush was, Kris Humphries (the Neanderthal, you following me?) replied, "because Kim wants to get married while she is at her PEAK."

This just struck me to my core.  I think EVERY bride wants to look her best on her wedding day, but to actually evaluate yourself, and then declare that you are at your peak physically, so you want to get married right away, is a such a bizarre motivation to me.  I mean, it is one thing to hear your biological clock ticking, because that is a medical FACT that it does tick, but beauty, in itself, I have always understood to be subjective, not only culturally, but for the individual.  I mean, what one culture thinks is beautiful is very different than what another culture may find attractive.  Also, one may THINK they are at their peak, but when they look back at that photo where their gigantic ass is squeezed into a Herve Leger dress, accentuated by their faux hawk and hooker pumps, they may not look at themselves admiringly, but instead with disgust or humiliation.  For instance, look at this photo of my friend, Cristina.  She is 7 months pregnant and she is the epitome of beauty to me.

Cristina

So, you see, beauty is subjective.  Or, at least it used to be, before everyone started looking like The Joker, that is.  However, given the times and the pressure that women have, to not only reach their peak, but then retain their peak, is at the very least, a daunting task, and at it's worst, addictive. 

  I mean, when were you at your peak?  I couldn't really tell you when I was at my peak, but I could DAMN sure tell you when I was not. 

Okay, on the subject of peaking, let's examine the wonderful world of plastic surgery.  Is that what everyone is trying to do?  Get back to their peak?  It's worth exploring.  Recently, I sat down with Dr. Jeffrey Donaldson, who is a plastic surgeon in town, who also happens to specialize in the "Mommy Makeover".  This, my friends, entails a breast augmentation, a breast lift, a tummy tuck, and liposuction.  It is exactly what the doctor ordered, so to speak, when it comes to what my body needs.

But, first, let's back up.  A few weeks ago, Marcy Fleisher, of Fleisher Communications Group (http://www.fleishercommunicationsgroup.com/), contacted me to pitch me a few of her clients.  One of those clients is Dr. Donaldson.  I have been fascinated with the whole plastic surgery movement since it began, and not unsurprisingly, I have a lot of opinions and a firestorm of questions.

I felt like this story was a great topic for a post or posts, but Marcy and I discussed how there were no guarantees, and that I felt and feel that I have a responsibility to continue to call it as I see it, so that you guys can believe that what I am writing is genuine.  In essence, I don't want to be anybody's whore.  Except Brad's, I guess.  Okaaaaay, that felt weird.

So, here is what I like about Dr. Donaldson so far.  He is Board Certified in Plastic Surgery.  He is well-educated (Ivy League, y'all, Holla!), and I like that he has opinions about some of the bullshit that is happening in his industry and he is not afraid to speak out about it.  Check out this link from Dr. Donaldson's website that describes the education and medical training that deserves the distinction of being Board Certified in Plastic Surgery.

http://www.donaldsonplasticsurgery.com/dr-donaldson/board-certification/

Okay, here is what happened when I arrived. I was all harried and rushed, and for once I was not late, but  of course, I arrived with blank paperwork and I had NO IDEA what I was going to write about and even less of a clue as to what was about to happen.  The office assistant asks me to fill out the paperwork and tells me it will be $50 for a consultation.

I sat down to gather myself and was all WTF?  I wonder if this is what journalists do. "Do you PAY now to write about people?  Jesus, tabloids have just RUINED journalistic integrity entirely!"  I thought to myself.  I was miffed.  I mean, if I haven't made it clear enough, I have no expense account, unless you count that change jar under the bathroom sink upstairs.

So ANYWAY, I discuss my point of view with the office assistant, and she goes and gets Dr. Donaldson.  We have this awkward moment where I have to explain to him that I am not going to get anything done, and then we start this GREAT dialogue.  My intention, it occurs to me on the spot, is to actually relay the experience of going to a plastic surgeon.  I also think it is important to discuss the issues surrounding plastic surgery today.  So, in essence, my mission is twofold, personal and professional.

I explain to Dr. Donaldson that I not only am a cynic of plastic surgery, in general, but that I, personally, have reservations about going under the knife or doing Botox because (a) I used to be in pharmaceutical sales and I saw a lot of products, including one that I was "pushing" yanked off of the market a year or so after FDA approval, when the actual patients were using the drug, and not just subjects in clinical trials, and (b) I have had three c-sections, the first of which, I hemorrhaged after, so I personally feel like my elective surgery dance card is full. 

These two background circumstances uniquely qualify me to be a skeptic of this industry, but I also have many friends (most of them, really) who have engaged in either fillers, Botox, or elective surgery.  Once again, I am the last virgin in my sorority house - the hold out.  What I am saying is that there is an emotional element to all of this, of which Dr. Donaldson was nice enough to enlighten me on.

There was this sheet I was given to fill out, in which you are to check each box that applies to you, in terms of what you would like to get done.  It is below:

Don't worry.  I, too, am continually amazed at how low tech this blog is!

One of the issues that sticks in Dr. Donaldson's crawl (how descriptive is that, AND appropriate I might add) is the fact that you can go to Dental School and then "hang your shingle as a plastic surgeon" after one weekend seminar.  Donaldson said that there is no governing body that polices this practice and that it is done all of the time.

Then, during these economic times, people are not only more desperate to make themselves more attractive (there have been a thousand studies on how attractive people are more successful and happy in general), but also maybe their economic circumstances do not afford them the opportunity to have something cosmetic done by the "best in the business".

These doctors may be legally protected to perform the procedures, but they do not necessarily have the medical background to anticipate or rectify complications that arise when these procedures or surgeries go awry.   Then, because patients are vulnerable, they are easily taken advantage of, by certain physicians who capitalize on those vulnerabilities for their own gain.  In my eyes, the risk/benefit analysis that normally is present in medical scenarios involving surgical procedures, no longer exists for elective surgery.

For instance, if a person needs, let's say, sinus surgery, a physician diagnoses the problem, recommends a specialist, who them performs the procedure.  It is because there is a medical NEED.  But if you take away the medical need, and you replace it with someone who is simply paying someone to tell them what is wrong with them, then, there are grey areas, that do not exist in a true medical scenario.  Therefore, you need to not only seek out a professional that is certified and trained to do the elective surgery that you crave, but you must also need to trust that that physician will not take advantage of your insecurities for his own financial gain.

What I am getting at, is that a physician who performs elective surgery, or botox, or whatever, is in THE POWER POSITION, and you need to be aware of that.  That is why I decided to take on this assignment with Dr. Donaldson.  When I told him that I was clearly a "hot mess" that could benefit from any and all of the checklist he provided, he responded, "It is not MY job to tell you what you need.  I treat people who come to me with something that they are willing to endure surgery to change about themselves in order to enhance their self-confidence and quality of life, in general."  Let's be real.  I am paraphrasing.  I brought a notebook, but forgot to write anything down because I was so enthralled with our conversation. 

He went on to sort of say, "Let's say you have a huge nose that inhibits you from getting a job, or having sexual relations, or a social life or whatever."  I immediately internalize this statement and assume that he is talking about MY nose and I become self-conscious.  "Or you have had several children, and you can't stand to look at your breasts...."  I have stopped listening now because he is clearly talking about me.

But, he was NOT talking about me, I don't think, because (when I was able to swallow my paranoia and focus, again) he elaborated on how most of the women he sees are women who have had certain body characteristics all of their life, and then during a series of circumstances, be it pregnancy, thyroid, stress, age, or whatever, that body no longer exists and they want to try and get it back.  They want to be at their PEAK, again, and it is worth the risk.

What I like about Dr. Donaldson is that he is obviously qualified to perform whatever I may want done, but he is NOT going to pressure me into making any decisions by preying on my obvious insecurities for his own financial gain.  Just ask me if I had to pay the $50 dollars.

My mission through these next few posts is to get you to think about why you feel the way you do about your body, and to examine whether or not it is worth the consequences you might face if it does not turn out the way you thought it would. 

I have an appointment next week with Dr. Donaldson, where I am going to "walk through" the entire experience of a consultation for the "Mommy Makeover".  I promise that I will not hold anything back.  I think you all know me better than that.  I am already wondering if I can find matching underwear in my drawer.  Would it be uncomfortable for him if I were to wear my Spanx?  I know it is for me.

Stay tuned and wish me luck.

Who is on YOUR team?

Recently, I was contacted by Marcy Fleisher (http://www.facebook.com/marcy.fleisher), of Fleisher Communications Group (http://www.fleishercommunicationsgroup.com), because she was interested in pitching some ideas to me.  We traded several emails because, basically, I couldn't get my shit together, and then finally, we met up at Le Chatelaine in Upper Arlington.

THAT meeting almost didn't happen, too, because I did not confirm our appointment the night before when she inboxed me because, being the loser bird I am, I went to bed at 9:00.  I don't mean bed, as in watched T.V. until 11:30.  I mean, got in bed at 8:51, after putting the kids down (let's be real, they were all just staring at the ceiling listening to lullaby rap music) and was ASLEEP by 9:00.

So, ANYWAY, Marcy shows up at Le Chatelaine, and I am FULLY CAFFEINATED.  I had had two cups of my jet fuel-like coffee that I prepare at home (the night before, natch) and then decided to treat myself to one of their yummy lattes, once I got there.  Sorry, Marcy.  I should have warned you.  I have two speeds:  caffeinated and asleep.

Okay, so Marcy, couldn't be MORE lovely and rill (this is my new favorite word), as in "keepin' it rill, y'all!" or "fur rill!".  Please see video below.

Anderson Cooper is my new MAIN GAY.

Anyway, after meeting Marcy, who has, after ONE meeting, given me a TON of professional advice, and leads, I might add - it just got me to thinking....it is almost like we are part of a team and she is a new teammate, if that makes any sense.

Let me clarify...and elaborate....and pontificate, if you will.  Try not to HATE, PONTIFICATE.  Or how 'bout DON'T HATE...PONTIFICATE!  Oh My Gawd, I just thought of the new masthead for my blog.

My manager, Jen, has been ON ME, to make my blog more of an experience. She started this nonsense when we were on our YACHT, of all things, (http://gratuitousguidance.blogspot.com/2011/08/charleston-or-cougarton.html) while I was tryin' to get my DRANK on, of all times!   Jen feels that "when the participant enters your blog site, they should almost gets lost in the experience.  That's what I mean...you want people to experience your blog, not just READ it."


I was all, "Wow, that sounds VERY Dungeons and Dragons to me.  Can we make Gratuitous Guidance a portal to an alternate universe, like in that movie "Being John Malkovich?"  Sweet."  I said as I took another swig of my beer.  "Jen, I just want you to know how much I appreciate how much you champion me and my burgeoning career in the blogosphere, " I continued.  NO ONE is a bigger proponent of my blog than YOU.  It's just that the ONE thing you keep forgetting about me is how LAZY I am." And then we burst into laughter, and she began taking pictures of me to replace the fuzzy picture I had before at the top of this page.  Here are some of the pictures that didn't make it

Overexposed?  Not yet, I'm not!

Can't explain.  Weird tongue pose, I guess.

Watch your thumb.  WHAAAT?

Now, look at the moon.

No, The OTHER moon.

Big SMILE.  Not THAT big.  You look possessed.

Where's that moon again?

Money shot.

Too fat.

Too skinny faced, and awkward pose.  Makes me feel strange just looking at this one.

Pretend like your asleep.  You're smirking.  PERRRRFECCT!

WUUURRRK IT GURL.  Okay, EWW.

You should see the difference between this and Marcy's recent professional photo shoot, in which they used clothing from Rowe Boutique (http://www.roweboutique.com/).  I was going to show it to you, but there are copyright infringement issues.  Let me just tell you, though, that her photographer was easy to pose for, know what I'm sayin'?

Anywho, can you tell that we were just beside ourselves with laughter?  She was literally standing above me, using my pathetic $100 digital camera, taking photo after photo of me, while she said things like, "Work it!" and "Turn to the side.  Yeah, that's it."  She was acting like my shutter speed was like fifty pictures per second, but in reality it took a really long time in between each picture.  Hilarious.  They all turned out terrible, except the one I ended up using, but I guess my POINT is, that Jen is on my team.  She is not in my click, or anything like that, she just gets me, and accepts me, and genuinely wants the best for me.  And that is a rare, rare thing, my friends.

Okay, I have arrived at my original intention for this blog, again.  GOOD.  I guess I have just given a lot of thought to who is on my team, lately.  To me, a teammate is someone who does not have an agenda.  They are genuine and rill and positive.  However, they must also possess a certain amount of sarcasm, if they are going to be positive, to balance out all those good vibes.

Seriously, I am forty-one-years old and my girls are more self-sufficient now, and it is as if a fog has cleared in my head.  I think there are several reasons for that.  The first reason is because I am no longer just maintaining, anymore.  By that, I mean, before, when my children were young, I felt like I was just presented with task after task, that I either completed or didn't and then I went to bed.  There wasn't a lot of time for self-reflection or deliberation on who I wanted to surround myself with.  I was in survival mode, so to speak.

So, I am thinking about writing this post, which is a post about being the best that you can be, and that means editing out certain forces and things in your life that hinder that goal.  And then I find a message from my tennis partner, and good friend, Christina, that she had sent me last week.  People, it is not like my INBOX is flooded, so it was really random that I somehow did not get the message or missed it, but it was probably one of the nicest notes I have ever received EVER, in the history of this blog.  Just kidding, Christina, in my life.  

You see, before I started this blog, I tended to keep my freak flag at half mast, reserved only for family members and my closest friends.  Then, one night after two glasses of wine, and at the urging of my manager, and a dare from my husband, I gave birth to this inner demon on Facebook.

I had NO IDEA how it was going to be received.  I have had all kinds of feedback, but none like the letter (Facebook message, same diff) I opened (clicked on) from my (redundant) teammate, Christina.  What is that called when a word has two meanings?  They used it in Mills' spelling bee post (http://gratuitousguidance.blogspot.com/2011/05/spelling-bee.html).  Oh, yea, double entendre...FRAUNCH, shoulda' known.  Anyway, Christina gave me lots of inspired ideas, and some very heartfelt compliments, and although, I had not known it before, I realized that she was on my team...and I am so grateful.

You see, you don't really know who is on your team until you do something risky, really.  I am no fool.  I know that some, if not a lot of the bullshit I put up here is provocative. (Like using the word, bullshit, I guess - I just figured I could eventually desensitize you to it.  Next, up muthafuckin' bullshit.  But, I don't want to give away next week's word, just yet.  Practice amongst yourselves if you desire extra credit.  Baby steps.)

GODAYUM!  (November's word and new spelling)I digress again.  So, my advice today is very simple.  Ask yourself who is on your team.  It doesn't necessarily have to be someone who helps you out or even someone that you come into contact with frequently.  You don't have to have history with them, or to even have gone out and gotten shitfaced with them. Remember, your teammates are the people that GET you.  They like YOU, for YOU, and for no other reason.  Now, if you surround yourself with your teammates, then you can accomplish GREAT things, even if it is spending an afternoon laughing until your side hurts as you fold your laundry.

Listen, I hate to get all Dali Lama on yo' asses (Gungala, Gungala....no, Gungola, Gungola - see below) but imagine if the entire World insulated themselves with their teammates, how happy we could all be.  Just a thought. Now, get out there and receive total consciousness, BEEEAAATTTCCCHHHHES!