Banana Bread Head

I couldn’t take it anymore! My hair is naturally curly, but I’ve been wearing it straight for at least a decade now, and it’s taken it’s toll. It is SOOOOOO dry! Don’t worry, I didn’t cut it all off. Instead, I hit the internet and typed in “Homemade Hair Masks.”

At the moment, you could stick my head in the oven and a bread would come out, it would be a hairy bread, but a bread nonetheless.

I combined a banana, 1 egg, 3 tablespoons of honey, 3 tablespoons of milk, and 5 tablespoons of olive oil.

In the first 5 minutes it felt a little itchy. Now 15 minutes in, I’ve had to stuff a tissue in my ear, because the greenish brown concoction has oozed it’s way out of the saran wrap, through the towel and into my ear. I better not wake up with a bug picnic happening in my ear tonight!

The pictures in Self Magazine make home “spas” looks so glamourous. My arms are sticking to my laptop as I type this because I have honey on them despite washing several times.

5 minutes until I shampoo!!!!

I have now stuffed an additional wash cloth under the towel to stop the dripping down my neck. I am suddenly concerned that when I take B out for a walk later I’m going to be swarmed by bees!


I just got out of the shower, and here’s what went down:

Banana is not the greatest thing to wash out in your tub. I had to keep cleaning out my hair cover because the banana was stuffing it up. Then my head became something out of a sitcom. You know when a person on a sitcom puts too much laundry detergent in the washing machine and the suds don’t stop… that was my shampoo.

Normally my shampoo barely suds at all, but just now the size of the suds monster on my head almost doubled the size of me!!! Where the heck did all of those suds come from? And they were firm! I have a mirror across from my shower so I was making fantastic crowns and animals out of them. Then I washed out the shampoo and figured I better do it twice. Same thing! Suds monster!!! The conditioner was far more mellow.

Once I rinsed and exited my shower, it was easy to get the brush through… good. But upon further inspection of my brush, I noticed, lots of bitty bits of banana in the bristles. I cleaned my brush and ran it through my hair. Less bits, but still bits. I can only assume there is still banana in my hair. Good thing monkeys aren’t indigenous to my area.

The ends of my hair feel great. It’s still wet, but overall, I think the homemade mask was a success.

Now for all of you gals out there who have a man, I think this can be a really fun couples exercise. Your man gets to massage all the food into your hair, and rinse it in the shower… kind of like Nine and a Half Weeks meets Splash…

If you go for it, tell me how it turns out…



Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Smoke And The Bandit

No, it’s not missing a “Y” it’s smoke.. as in I was forced to blow “smoke” up the ass of the Bandit! Let me explain.

WARNING: This is about to be a rant…

I was out with two of my girls this weekend, we were at a fishing competition (my first, wasn’t a big learning curve) at a beautiful marina. And of course where there are beautiful marinas there are beautiful boats. I know nothing about boats, except that I like to be on them out in the water. The girls on the other hand, knew a lot about boats, so when given the opportunity to check one out, they jumped at it.

I didn’t object, there was a hot 26-year-old on the crew..

We get to the boat and the girls went off on a tour. I think you all know me well enough by now to know I’m suspicious by nature. You’ve got to earn my trust, so I wasn’t following anyone inside the boat! Especially when I’m certain, that these guys have their “boat groupies” routine well rehearsed. I just kicked off my flip flops and sat down, and like on a plane, was well aware of my exit strategy.  What I didn’t know was that I was going to be needing a barf bag (figuratively, this is not going to get gross).

It was in this very spot that I met the owner and captain of the boat. He called himself Bandit. I would like to describe him as an “old, sleazy, d-bag” but I think he’s my age, so I’ll just say he’s a sleazy d-bag! Still,  I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt when he started flirting with me and chalked it up to his alcohol consumption, because his wedding band was so glaringly obvious. Now don’t get me wrong, EVEN if he were not married, I would not touch this guy with a ten foot fishing pole, but he was married, and y’all know I feel about cheaters! SLEAZY D-BAG!

And hence, the blowing of the smoke began. My two girlfriends quickly determined who they were “hangin’ with” for the evening, which left me to fend for myself, which unfortunately meant “fending off” the Bandit. This had to be done delicately because:

1. We were on his boat and my girls were now out of sight


2. I’m pretty sure he is a narcissist and they make for nasty drunks.

The closer he got, the faster I’d move to a new location, which on a boat that I would not go inside of, didn’t give me much room. I SO BADLY wanted to tell this guy exactly what was on my mind, but to do so would have meant making a quick exit and I still had two unaccounted for girlfriends. Climbing up the stairs and sitting between the first and second story, gave Bandit no room to get next to me (and a great view of Hot 26 who by now had showered and was wearing a white t-shirt that fit him so well I just wanted to slide my hands up under it… but I tangentalize). Bandit was doing his best to sing his own virtues of being a Southern Gentleman. When that didn’t work, he tried impressing me by telling me his boat cost him 7 million (any man who has to drop money to impress is instantly unimpressive to me). Then he offered me a water even though I was holding a bottle in my hand. At this point I made a tactical error. I accidentally spent a little too long undressing Hot 26 with my eyes, and Bandit noticed.

He asked me if I was interested in Hot 26, “because if I was, he would back off because he didn’t want to be in the way.”  I knew it was a tactical error because I was trained to read body language and listen to tonality, so while his words were quite gracious, his tone had that quality of forcing niceness, you know that tone, when someone sounds like they want to spit on you while sporting a smile on their face? And his body language, he was peacocking big time! I knew at that moment, if I went anywhere near that kid, this ego-maniac was going to throw down the hammer of Thor. I did not want my lascivious eyes getting him in trouble, so I looked the Bandit straight in the eyes, smiled and said, “Nope, I’m just here to look out for my girls and drink your water.”

That seemed to appease him. Then Shakira (I named her that cause her hips don’t lie and she’s as hot as Shakira) and her man came out of the boat’s interior and wanted to go upstairs. Bandit asked me if I’d seen upstairs, and I told him no. Not seeing a way out of this as the three of them were blocking my escape, I climbed up, and like a mouse being chased by a cat, quickly made my way around the area and back down the stairs.

Finally, free of him! And free to let my eyes gaze…

Seriously, Hot 26 must have thought I was such a CT, because I knew I couldn’t touch him. It was solidified for me when I was sitting next to him, his shoulder up against mine, warming my entire body, when the Bandit popped his head out, offered Hot 26 something (which Hot 26 declined), and then, with that same bitter tonality joked, “Why not, you already took my Baby.” That’s what he’d been calling me all night.

Dang it. At that moment I knew the kid was screwed. I was reprimanded by my girlfriends for not making a move on Hot 26, and for not giving him my number, but I wanted him to be able to look the Bandit in the eye and honestly be able to say NO, if asked if he got my number. And everyone could see nothing physically transpired between us. So, I’d hoped the kid was off the hook (pun intended).

The next day, Hot 26 wouldn’t even say hello to me. It totally sucks being the voice of reason, looking out for someone, but I can’t tell him I’m looking out for him or he’ll tell me that it’s cool, just to “get some” when I know that to give him “some” no matter how great that “some” would be, would just not be worth it to him when the aftermath hit!

So here I am getting the stink eye from him at the dock party, when who slithers in? Captain Bandit. Well, now I’m not on his boat, so I was done blowing smoke. I was back to being his baby, so it was time to make it perfectly clear to this C Blocker that I most certainly was not and would never be!

My first tactic was to be polite. I pointed out the ring on his finger, and told him, that I had no interest in a married man. Shakira was now at my side since her guy was with the Bandit, and asked me to join her when the Bandit suggested that we move up to the Tiki Bar to get into the shade. Thinking I’d made myself clear, I followed.

I had not made myself clear, as he quickly began referring to me once again as his baby. I used my second tactic, s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g it out for him. “I am NOT your baby, and will not be your baby, and you have another night ahead of you, so you better get out there and find yourself another baby!”

This did not work, he started talking to me about how he was going to hire a driver for me and a car.  “Sleazy D-Bag, while I’m sure you have plenty of insecure wanna-be-gold-diggers falling at your married feet, I am not one of them, and your gross money dropping tactics are just making me want to punch you in the face to shut you up!”

Unfortunately those were fictional quotes, as in that’s what I wanted to say to him, but I didn’t because my momma raised me better, so onto my third tactic, visual imagery and metaphor. I pretended I was holding a fishing rod and casting it out and explained that he had cast out his bait, I had not taken it, he reeled it back in, and had nothing, (I’m physically acting this whole fishing metaphor out for him as well as for Shakira’s guy, in case he could explain it better), so now you need to cast your reel out again, or you’re going to wind up without a fish on your hook.

To this the Bandit responded, “Well I think you’re my baby,” To which I responded, “Well, I’m not!” To which he responded, “I like to just think you are then.” To which I responded with tactic four, walking away rudely, never saying goodbye.

Maybe the Bandit saved me from myself.  I’d been vowing to stay on the “off the Under 30” Wagon, and for this kid, I would have jumped off the wagon head first into the mud cause he made me want to get dirty!!!

Effin Bandit!

Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

For St Patty’s Day: A Dirty Virgin Green Appletini… Be Safe Out There!


Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Why Californication And UPS Don’t Mix

Clearly I have been living under a rock because I missed the Californication train! Even though David Ducovny was in Return To Me, a rather charming Rom Com that I’ve seen several times, he never had the sexy factor for me… at all! But Hank Moody?!?!? Hello! I’ve watched 2 seasons in two days and this weekend I’ll probably make it through another 4! I love it! Not rom com by any means, but the comedy is so frickin’ witty!

Now, if you don’t watch the show there is also a huge sex factor in, so huge that porn is introduced in the second season. But it’s not porn, it’s a scripted tv show with a B storyline possibly even a C storyline about porn for a few episodes.

I just happened to be watching one of those episodes when…

First let me sidebar and say that I am one of those people who tips the mailman and  knows the UPS guy. Yes, I believe in being friendly to people you see on a regular basis and therefore I know my UPS guy by name and we always have a light banter when he comes… which is often because I’m like Steve Martin in Bowfinger AFTER Chubby Rain.

Why did I just tangentilize? Because when UPS guy came yesterday, I was 3 hours deep into watching Californication, so when he rang the bell, I hit pause and went to greet him.

Oddly, he dropped the package at my front gate and scampered away before I could say hello. Not like him. Very strange, or so I thought, until I turned around to walk back to my house and noticed that my plantation shutters were open and the screen was paused on Daisy (the pornstar)… full frontal nudity.

OY! I looked like I was watching porn in the middle of the afternoon. Not that there’s a more appropriate time to watch porn, or if there is I wouldn’t know because I don’t watch it! My UPS guy thinks I’m a perv! This is awful!!

Here’s my plan.. I am going to put a DVD of Lady and The Tramp in the DVD player and pause it on the spaghetti scene and wait until he comes back. I’m an innocent.

It’s so Hank Moody to get me into an embarrassing situation like this! Anyway, on to season 3… with the shutters CLOSED!

Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

To Shave Of Not To Shave… That Is The Question

I have recognized the new following of male readers this blog has been attracting, and therefore this particular entry is very difficult to write. Why? Because I’m about to give away a “chick secret”… at least I think it’s still a secret….

There comes a time in all women’s lives where we have to ask ourselves a very important question.

“How far do I want to let him go?”

For the most part this question is asked early on in a relationship, a time where animal attraction is at its most fierce and the good decision making brain cells are at their weakest.

Because of this tug-of-war, women have been forced to out smart themselves by creating barriers that become “insurance”. The most talked about insurance policies are “the granny panties.” These are those big ugly, yet comfortable panties, that no sexy woman would ever let a guy see her in. Hence, the insurance. Put a pair of those ugly undergarments on and there’s no way you’re letting him take off your jeans… or is there?

The problem with the Granny Panty insurance policy, is a woman with skills can actually take off her jeans and panties at the same time, avoiding any embarrassing visual.  We’ve been forced to come up with a better insurance plan. That plan? Strategic shaving!

There are 3 major areas that fall under this premium:

1. Armpits

2. Legs

3. Vajooge

A woman can determine how much insurance she needs and shave accordingly (Note: anywhere I write shave, you can substitute wax if that’s your preference).

Here’s how the policy works: If a woman does not want the guy getting anything more than a kiss, she doesn’t shave anywhere. Hairy pits will keep any sexy woman from  allowing her shirt to be removed, and disallow any wandering hands. You never know when a man’s hand can go astray and you wouldn’t want him to even get a brief brush of underarm stubble.

Next, there’s the legs. Usually when you’re at this point, it goes hand and hand with the vajooge, but not necessarily. Unshaven legs are more for a woman’s mindset. She knows she can’t wear a skirt or a dress, which are both dangerous when not wanting a man’s hands to travel upward. That said, if you can handle the temptation and you DON’T shave the vajooge, shaving the legs and wearing a skirt always makes for a fun evening.. or lunch hour.

Finally, the obvious. Let’s face it, as a woman, if your vajooge is not shaven to your idea of sexy, a man isn’t getting anywhere near it! It’s an excellent insurance policy.

Which leads me back to my original question. To shave or not to shave? I have 24 hours to decide. The armpits are a no brainer, the legs will be shaved… BUT what to do about part 3 of my premium policy. Do I even need my policy activated? Will there be a tug of war? Do I trust myself or do I give myself over to Venus.. the choice for every Goddess? Hmmmmm it may be a game day decision.

Cue Jay-Lo!

Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

The Vow Movie Review

Okay, no tiaras for this review because there aren’t enough to fit to describe how much I loved this movie!!! So 3 things are going to happen in this post:

1. A quick movie review

2. A First Love story… yes I have to go there

3. Cliff notes of Sister and my conversation after the movie

Here we go…

1. I’m not spoiling anything by telling you that this movie is a true story. That only made it more powerful! It is a true love story. Sister just said that the movie depressed her because she wants a love that strong. And that’s pretty much all I can tell you because you’re just going to have to see it yourself. Ah.. one more thing… the movie affected me THAT much more because in the final scene and over the credits played a very nostalgic song, which leads me to…

2. I imagine every person reading this blog has been in a relationship that has been successful for at least a certain amount of time. Leo, the lead character narrates in parts of the film and talks about “moments of impact” in a relationship. The longer the success the less you remember in a sense, BUT there are those “moments of impact.” One of them for me was after a long break up with First Love, we were still a bit awkward around each other. I think it was my first time sleeping at his house and I was confronted with my first “test” (I can’t say that it was a conscious test on his part, but I can’t say it wasn’t). I hated The Cure. I constantly mocked Robert Smith’s cracky crying voice. Yet, there I lay in FL’s arms, the room only lit by the lights on his stereo, and “Pictures of You” on replay. Over and over I listened to that song. He told me he had listened to this song while we were broken up and wanted me to hear it. I can’t remember exactly how he put it, but the impact of the moment was that I felt the pain I’d put him through during our break up. I haven’t been able to listen to the song since because it just reminds me of how much I hurt him. And there I was, watching a movie about a man who loves a woman so much his heart is breaking and Pictures of You comes on… and no, it was not the Adele version which I could have handled. So I cried and cried and cried and cried until everyone had left the theater and I’d used up all the tissues I’d brought. Sister asked me if I was crying because of the movie or because of the song… how could I answer? They were intertwined…

3. Upon returning home, Sister and I were talking about how romantic Leo was. And then Sister said, “Why don’t guys realize that we drag them to these movies because we want them to see what we want?” She brought up a good point. I’ve had some very romantic moments in relationships. Most of them were when I was younger. Makes me wonder if the older guys get, and the more burned they’ve been by women, the less inclined they are to make heartfelt romantic gestures. All I know is I’m getting older, which means when I do wind up in a relationship he will be older too (hopefully), and I won’t settle.  Those truly thoughtful, heartfelt, romantic gestures are a must for me. Hey, I’m a romantic comedy girl, they are a necessity. Not to worry potential man of my dreams, your gestures will be fully appreciated and my thoughts will always be “how can I make you happy” “how can I make you feel special”…

But until I find him, I’ll just have to get my fix in the theater. So This Means War… here I come 🙂



Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Happy Valentines Day.. Want To Hear About My Best Date Ever?

Yes, today I went on the best date ever! It just happened to be by myself. Sorry if that’s a disappointment to some of you romantics out there, but seriously, it felt like something contrived by ABC for the Bachelorette. Granted there was no bachelor to share it with, but still…. Such a great date! It started off in a gorgeous hotel in Vancouver, BC. I ordered room service and was presented a breakfast that was right out of Top Chef. Then I did an hour of yoga and meditation with an incredible view of the city.

But that was more like the pre-date stuff. The real date started when I walked myself down the clean city streets to the water where the Olympic Torch stands and a sculpture of an Orca whale plays tricks with your eyes depending how close you get.

The view from the wharf (sea wall?) was so romantic that I decided to sit on a bench with myself. Yes, I held my hand. As the skyscrapers stood around me I looked across the water, over the sea planes (which I SO wanted to go on, but I really do want to save that for when I have an eligible bachelor by my side), over the yachts, over the rowers (which were many) and saw snowcapped mountains with playful clouds moving in and out of their peaks. I must have sat for 30 minutes admiring the beauty of it.

Then it was time to walk. And walk I did for about two hours around the water checking out the amazing waterfront restaurants. I continued on to the rowing club and stopped when I got to Stanley Park (I was saving that for later).

Next I went over the bridge to Granville Island which is a farmers market on steroids. I’ve never seen such beautiful produce and flowers! There were also amazing bakeries and breads (too bad I couldn’t try anything… stupid Gluten!

I ate some nuts for energy and headed off to Stanley Park. It was gorgeous! I know a block from my house is the “Rodeo Drive” of Vancouver, but I’d so much rather take in the scenery and Stanley Park delivered with it’s luscious trees, Lion’s Gate Bridge, and more breathtaking views of the Pacific and the mountains of West Vancouver.

Okay, time for the FUN part of the date! I took myself to the aquarium… that’s why it felt like a “Bachelorette” date. Because, if I was the star of that show, there would definitely be an aquarium date. I find sea creatures, sea mammals, and rain forest creatures fascinating. You could even say hypnotic. I sat on a bench next to one giant tank filled with sting rays, sea turtles, and sharks, for almost an hour. That was between the dolphin show and the bulg.. whale show. I also watched sea lions and otters, jelly fish, and gators. I didn’t spend too much time in the rain forest because I’d just straightened my hair and I wanted it to stay that way!

Then I walked back from the aquarium, back through Stanley Park, back around the wharf, past the Olympic Torch, and up the city blocks back to my hotel.

I ordered two room service meals. One as a late lunch and one that I knew I’d be hungry for around 11pm (I planned on keeping myself up late because I didn’t want the date to end). Again, the meal presentation was right out of Top Chef. After my late lunch it was time for a bubble bath, because I can’t go to a hotel and not take advantage of a large tub!

Then I decided to write this blog. I was still in my robe with my hair pulled back and my face still rosy red from the bath. I put on my Gucci computer glasses, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had to do a double take because dang I looked sexy in them!

That’s when I realized that I could look at all that sexiness and feel like it was wasted on… well me.. OR I could just recognize as my second gourmet meal waited for me to indulge, that it’s just waiting for the right guy to join in, because NOW something is crystal clear to me that I never desired before. When I DO meet a great guy, he needs to have the freedom and desire to travel because I want many many more dates like today!


Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments