Boulder and the Beautiful

Sixty-three percent of the bosses I have ever had sported a ’stache. So I joke that if you have a ’stache, you’re in charge.
Either that, or a porn star. It really depends on the width of the upper-lip hair. The thinner, the naked-er you are whilest taking charge.
Want to rule the school but you can’t grow your own mustache, either because of a genetic malfunction or your gender?
Well, you are in luck.
Canadian designer Melanie Favreau has designed a mustache necklace – a disguise right around your neck, for $48.

Check it out here, at this disgustingly long link:
http://supermarkethq.com/product/2462?utm_medium=email&utm_source=newsletter12&utm_content=206095425&utm_campaign=newsletter&utm_term=Moustache+Fetishism%3f

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Imagine sitting down in a tattoo parlor, offering your back to the artist and saying “Paint me with your needle.” You have no idea what will happen, and neither does he.
I did this and wrote about it.
Read the story here: www.dailycamera.com/news/2008/aug/07/fashion-beauty-beneath-the-skin-the-lesson-of/
Make sure you check out the video, too. It’s a time-lapse of about 40,000 photos/20+ hours of tattooing condensed into a few minutes. Completely amazing, watching the whole process unfold at warp speed.

Direct link to the video: www.dailycamera.com/videos/detail/mural-tattoo

Pass the links on to everyone you know.

I’m going to do this for my workout of the week next week.

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My family banned greeting cards several years ago. We are funamentally opposed to dumping four bucks on an unoriginal piece of paper that will be chucked in the trash can momentarily (sorry, it’s true — I come from a long-line of obsessive thrower-awayers. I’m not even sure my parents kept my childhood photos). Instead, we give each other that $4 in cash and hand-write a personal letter.

Although recently, on the tail of the Green Take-Over, we started writing shorter letters. You know, to save on ink and paper, thus increasing the cash gift by about a quarter. This eventually morphed into three letters “HBD” (short for happy birthday) scrawled on the package of (unwrapped, of course) gifts — and an ecard waiting for me in my inbox, along with my 34,000 other e-mails of the day.

Someecards is my favorite sarcastic ecard site, “when you care enough to press send.” Aw. So thoughtful.

Here are a few of the cards I think are just tops.

And a great one for those mass birthday cards you get at work:

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I’m writing a story about how analyzing your dreams can give you insight into healing, your soul and your True Self.

I dreamed about an outfit last night. I wore it today. It’s retro cowgirl.

I regularly dream about outfits. I wonder what that means about MY soul and true self. Maybe deep down I am just a little girl who likes to play dress up. Or maybe I’m a style genius, waiting to be unleashed. Most likely, it just means I like clothes.

I like to sleep. This often leads to me sleeping in. Which often leads to me getting ready in the car.

Yesterday I was driving to work putting on my mascara — at the stop lights, gosh, seriously people — and I noticed a cop car was in front of me. I pulled my mascara wand out off my lashes and replaced it in the bottle for fear of getting busted for a DUM (driving under the influence of make-up).

Right then, I got a text. I tried to wait, but, the eager person that I am, I couldn’t stand the suspense. So I picked up my phone and quickly checked my message. In the corner of my eye, I noticed the cop car had pulled next to me. Sitting there with mascara in my left hand and my cell phone in my right, I grew nervous as traffic pushed me up closer to the cop’s driver side window.

I cautiously looked over, to see if he was going to bust me. But alas, he did not notice a thing. Because he was too busy. Texting and driving.

Urban Dictionary word of the day: moneymoon
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=moneymoon&defid=1203184

The time after your purchase of a good or service and before ‘buyer’s remorse’ happens.
The moneymoon is over, I realize now that buying that boat was a waste of money.

Here are some highlights from the concert last night.
The standard uniform of a Jovi witness.

Straight OG Bon gear.

The stage action: leather jacket instead of the denim digs of yesteryear.

Yes, that is a long red velvet blazer.
Proof that Bon Jovi is superhuman: no sweat.

That would be an authentic Jovilicious arsch for you.
And a Runaway jacket. Way better than the Pink Ladies.

Standard Jon Bon action: Dramatic hand grasp toward the heavensAnother standard Jovi-tastic move.

And then, a group crowd high-five. Can it get any better?

If Bon Jovi can wear a vest, why can’t I?
My friends always make fun of my affinity for vests.
And the word vest, in general.

This shirt was the hardest for me to handle. Jon had it unbuttoned so far down, I think I saw his belly button.

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As promised in my review, I will be posting photos from the Bon Jovi concert last night. I gotta attack some deadlines first, or my editor’s gonna attack me. …

 Check back soon. They’re worth it.
Tease: Jovi butt.

This made me giggle. At Marshall’s. This generation.

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