It has been awhile since I have had a decent celebrity crush. Then, BAM two at one time. Robin Thicke and Michael Buble were both doing the interview rounds during the holidays. I know Michael was promoting his phenomenal Christmas album (I am STILL listening to Baby, Please Come Home even though it’s almost February). I am not quite sure what Robin was promoting. I get too distracted by his looks to pay any attention to what he is actually saying. Most likely it was an album too. There is just something about a man who can sing. Here are a few of my favorite pictures of these two…
Much like his father, Robin is not lacking in the hair department.
Sexy, sexy, sexy.
But Robin has more hair. Kings to you, Robin.
Robin in Tom Fords. How did he know Tom Ford sunglasses are my favorite?
Not Tom Fords.
Robin wins.
Michael doing what he does best…singing.
Robin doing what he does best…looking good.
and looking good some more. The boy just doesn’t take a bad picture.
Michael looking very dapper in his suit.
But Robin wins again.
Michael dreaming of me, per chance?
Don’t worry Robin, I’ll be there soon. The sitter’s just late.
While they are both gorgeous, I am pretty sure you know which one I prefer. What about you?
I am absolutely terrified of having a third child. If I found out I was pregnant you would probably find me on the couch much like Goldie Hawn in Overboard numbly muttering, “buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh” for the rest of my natural life. But while the thought of adding another monster to the crew can send me into immediate atrial fibrillation I can’t say with 100% certainty that I will always feel this way. What I am 100% certain of is when it is time to retire the baby maker it will not be me taking more birth control pills or getting my tubes tied. My husband is going to have to step up to the plate and get a vasectomy. I have brought this subject up to a few of my girlfriends thinking this was a complete no-brainer. Much to my surprise there was a lot of hemming and hawing on the issue. The main response went something like this, “Oh, I don’t know. It just seems like a lot for him to go through.” Uh, excuse me?! First, please read below an excerpt from vasectomy.com on the recovery from the procedure:
Discomfort following a vasectomy is usually mild, but expect to take time to rest and recuperate for a few days.
Follow your doctor’s instructions, including his direction regarding rest and the use of pain medications and/or antibiotics.
Many men begin to resume regular work activities after a few days of rest following the procedure.
Sexual activities can usually be resumed after one to two weeks
Doesn’t sound any worse than an average MONTHLY period for a woman, right? Let’s do some math, ladies. We all roughly started our periods around 13 and will most likely end them around 50. Do you know what 37 years of having a period 12 times per year, 7 days out of the month equates to? 3108 days of HELL. A couple of weeks of recovery time for his little snip, snip is nothing in comparison. Oh, and don’t forget we also gave birth a couple times in there. So, please, never whine again about the fact that it would ”be too hard on him” or I may just have to punch you in the throat.
As you know from here, I am a certified product junkie. This problem is especially prevalent when it comes to lip sticks. I have about 142 variations of lip sticks but really only use my cherry flavored Chapstick on a regular basis. The rest of them pile up in the bottom of my purse or in the lip stick graveyard that is my make-up drawer. Over the holidays, I stopped in at the Clinique counter because my ‘weekend only’ MAC stick was running low and I needed a color for that night. Of course, none of my dozens of other lip sticks would suffice. The nice lady behind the counter suggested I try their new Chubby Sticks. She promised the color would not be too overwhelming as it was a ‘tinted’ lip balm. Having a mind that is consistently in the gutter, I was also taken with the phallic name of the product. Here are the deets and my review:
Description per Clinique website: Super-nourishing balm is loaded with mango and shea butters. Just what dry, delicate lips need to feel comfortably soft and smooth. Eight natural-looking lip tints in all, each with a subtle sheen.
H&H Review: While the actual product looks like the big clunky crayons that 2 year olds use, the application is pure silk. I could rub it on for hours. Additionally, both ends of the stick are capped in silver making it VERY easy to locate in a cavernous purse. Don’t be afraid of the bold, dark colors that the stick comes in. It truly wears as a tinted lip balm with a punch. My color is Graped-Up and now comes in number 2 behind my Chapstick. That is saying a lot. Also, you can’t beat the $16 price tag.
I am back to blogging! Hopefully I still have readers. My absence was due to a touch of creative fatigue and a project. A PAID project. While I love writing H&H it doesn’t necessarily keep me in my Tom Fords. So when work beckons I must go forth and bring home the bacon…bits. Thank you all for your patience. I will be kicking off my return with a bang. Literally. During my sabbatical I went through 4 weeks of intense acupuncture treatments. Partly to regulate my monthly cycles but mostly because I had 20 sessions completely covered by insurance that I had to burn up before January 1st. While aligning my Qi (chi) and clearing blocks my practitioner inadvertently or perhaps advertently released my inner horn dog. My libido was on complete overdrive. This led to a rather inappropriate amount of sex dreams. But I had to keep this new development to myself. Why? Well, mainly because not one included my husband. Some were of blurred men, one or two acquaintances, and of course a smattering of hot celebrities. I had become a dream slut. While I don’t think having sex dreams about men other than your husband is unique I did have a unique situation on my hands. In the 13 years of our relationship my husband claims every sex dream he has ever had features only me. I have tried to call him out on this multiple times but he has held firm for THIRTEEN years. It’s only me. Front and center. Every time. At first I felt pretty guilty about my nightly dalliances. But upon further reflection I realized that although he may not be the star of the show he was the only person actually benefiting from the performance. Then I just felt hoodwinked. Am I really to believe he only thinks of me even while dreaming? It sounds sweet but it is also complete bullshit. To prove me right and I know I am right, let’s put the question to you…
