Friday Flotsam

Frrrrrrrrrrrr! i. d! a. y!

Well guys I have the worst news.

Oh, it’s awful. Get ready because it’s positively excruciating.

I almost can’t even tell you but I feel like I need to face you, screen to screen, for this savage wave of humiliation that my soul is about to crash upon you.

If you’ll remember my confession from earlier this week in Instagram Stories which I’m sure 89% of you have yet to recover come. Well it gets worse. Way worse.

After I publicly admitted to dreaming about Justin Bieber (simmer down, he was just in it, you perv) and receiving this strange telepathic fantasy message that I would like a tune of his called Yummy, I woke up to discover that yes, oh MY yes, the tune Yummy is a downright delight. (And all of your various theories on what the song is about – hahaha!) On top of that, I’d like to pet Bliebler’s little trash bag mustache and call it Frank.

WELL, Spotify does this thing where it plays songs in the same vein as what I had just listened to, right? Without knowing what it was, the Spot (that’s what I call it) played me this song – dreamy, lush, a good solid vocal but not boy-bandy, a little sexy, produced in just the right places but still with the tiniest folksy sound – so I glanced over to see who it was.

…..

………….

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

………………………………………… . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . .

APPARENTLY I NOW LIKE HARRY STYLES.

NO! I know. No! AH KNOW. This can’t happen. This cannot happen.

GUYS I HAVE STREET CRED TO MAINTAIN. (you’re like, “naw ya dont.”)

I mean, sure the boy is gorgeous with that unruly thick mop of locks, but he’s got to be, what 18 and I guess this makes me a cougar but his album is fantastic. LEGIT GOOD. I ran to the whole thing a couple of mornings ago and was lit-rully shocked at much I enjoyed it. What t f .

You know what, I have hereby decided to lean into the throes of pop music. Just a tad. A barely lean. Dippin’ my toe in. Seein’ how the water is.

Look I understand if you need to take a break from who you thought I was. Or, even if you need to block me. Heck I’m blocking myself!

While you’re blocking me, go listen to She.

I have another confession to make.

You’re like, “nope, that one done did me right in.”

I . . . I can’t get into this tie dye movement.

I mean it is everywhere. Every where I turn – tie dye. Every brand I follow – tie dye. Every new collection – tie dye.

Guys, no. What is with this? Look, I understand the need to get creative. We’ve all been home for months now and the antsy factor is oozing out the ends of our hair, but can we please not tie dye? It’s confusing. It’s odd. It looks hideous.

I have yet to see a tie dye that I can wrap my head around.

WAIT, I take it back. The one time I saw a decent tie dye was on a thin blanket, and very sparse, and indigo. That worked.

But please don’t put tie dye on your body unless you own a dulcimer, have a pet lizard named Bongo and live in Eureka Springs.

So glad we had this chat.

I saw this funny (well, sort of) meme the other day saying something along the lines of, “If someone asks me what my skin care routine is I’m going to tell them St. Ives Apricot scrub, hahaha!”

Well crap, I own and use that. Am I gross?

I feeeeeel like we may have talked about this before, but I figured while I’m on the train of embarrassing confessions headed to ISSUES TOWN, I may as well come clean (haha) about this, too.

Tell me, what are your favorite face scrubs? And by this I mean, budget-friendly, easy to order/find, cute packaging (you do know me, right?)

Not that St. Ives is even remotely sexy, so ignore that last part.

I exfoliate twice a week, because I read that in your 40s you need a lighter scrub, and not everyday. Who knows if this is right, I like Harry Styles now so nothing makes sense anymore.

Tell me your faves! (not favs)

We still haven’t opened the camping tent to find my earrings.

Weekend plans?

We’ve got nothing! ABSOLUTELY nothing. Which obviously means I’ll think of 47 home projects to pile on our next 72 hours. I did order some new hardware for our kitchen (a mix of aged brass meets French ceramic – yes, hon), and I’m going to call about getting an estimate for casement windows, also for the kitchen. I think that would look so dreamy and open the space up so much more. I also want to get a bid for putting in a solar tube in the kitchen, as well. Like a skylight, but smaller and supposedly cheaper. This is all boring, I realize as the words just keep on falling from my fingertips.

Well, I’m off to get a mammogram, byeeeee!

You’re like, “just go back to talking about Harry Styles.”