Clarissa+Gum=Love

I have a passionate infatuation with gum. How passionate you ask? Let’s just say that I go through several packs a week. I’m like Violet Beauregarde from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It’s that serious. The chances of you catching me without a pack of gum in my bag is about -.05%. In truth, I probably have multiple packs on me, typically at least one fruity flavor and one mint flavor.


At this rate it can be somewhat of an expensive habit so I often buy multiple packs when a certain brand is on sale at the grocery store. I would guesstimate that I spend approximately $7-10 a week on gum, which to me, a broke college student, is a sizeable amount of money. I still make the sacrifice though since it’s not a bad habit to feed into. Gum not only freshens your breath but it also cleans your teeth. What’s so bad about that?

After all, I could be addicted to meth. But I'm not. Thank God.


Gum > Meth.

Anyway, I was at Fred Meyer yesterday buying eight hundred pounds of grapes- another costly addiction of mine- when I came across a catchy display of new gum flavors. Upon closer inspection I discovered that Wrigley’s Extra gum has released a new line of flavors titled ‘Dessert Delights’ featuring the following flavors: Key Lime Pie, Chocolate Chip Mint, and Strawberry Shortcake. Being a huge fan of everything and anything in the dessert category, I immediately swooped up a pack of the Key Lime Pie. I was so stoked I may or may not have unwrapped the pack before even stepping foot outside the Fred Meyer exit.

My verdict?

HOLY YUM! It’s amazing. As I raved to a few people, you can not only taste the creamy key lime but also the buttery graham cracker crust! It's every Weight Watchers member's dream come true. But really- try the gum. NOW. It’s so realistically delicious. I plan on trying the other flavors as soon as I get through this pack, which will likely be at the end of today.

After discovering this astounding gum, I began to brainstorm other realistically delicious flavors. To touch upon Charlie and the Chocolate Factory again, it’s kind of like the three-course meal flavor Willy Wonka developed, which contained the flavors of tomato soup, roast beef with a baked potato, and blueberry pie- all which are experienced in sequential manner when being chewed. Y'know, like a real three-course meal. Der.

Without further ado, here are some flavors of gum I would trade my right pinky finger for. (Because who uses that finger anyway?)


Pumpkin Pie with Whipped Cream

Mango Sticky Rice

Banana Nut Bread



Red Bean Mochi



Cherry Cheesecake



Champagne


B’s dream flavor?



Turkey Dinner

Barf.

Feel free to chime in with your personal fantasy flavors.

Or not.

Whatever.

TGIF... man

Today is the day that I have been waiting all week for: Friday. In all honesty I've been whining and moaning about this week since I first stepped foot in my job early Monday morning. For some reason this has been an exceedingly tough week, though I really don't know why specifically. Work hasn't been abnormally laborious or anything, and neither has life. Truthfully, I've been hitting the sack before 10 o'clock almost every night this week, something that is unusual for a night owl like myself.

In a nut shell, this week has been a routine schedule of: waking up, going to work, coming home from work, eating some food, taking my dog out to go pee, watching sleezy tv shows, and then going to bed. Nothing too exciting and/or exhausting. In fact, most of the geriatric patients at my work facility have more exhilarating schedules than I've had this past week.



They are laughing at how lame my life has been lately.


Nonetheless, I'm very relieved that today is Friday and that I will have the next two days to recharge myself. To kick things off with a "bang" I'm attending another one of those 'ladies nights' I spoke about in a previous post. As usual there will be a lot of carbs, wine, and feminine banter. A number of the women are bringing their children and, since I didn't want to be left out, I announced that I would be bringing my dog. Like all mothers, I just hope my child doesn't poop on the floor or chew a hole in the leather sofa. Knowing my child though and her love of delinquency, I'm almost certain something of the sort will occur.

(Rebekah, the hostess of this event, I apologize in advance and promise to pay for any and all damages my dog causes... well, so long as they are under $40.00.)

I will once again be cautious of my wine consumption so that I don't succumb to another alcohol induced pig out (as also explained in my previous post). All it takes is more than two glasses of vino and then I start having romantic fantasies in which I am slopping saliva with this big guy:

This pizzaburger would B's final meal if he were ever on death row


Plus it's never good to get sloppy drunk in front of your child(ren). I don't want my seven month old rottweiler to grow up and be a drunk floozy on the streets. I have bigger dreams for her than that.

Aliens are real and I'll prove it

The woman in the above picture is some model, hence the tall slender figure and long brightly lit runway. I'm not really sure of her name though because I don't follow up on supermodels much since I don't want to do any further damage to my self-confidence. I do think she's a Victoria's Secret model, and I'm only saying that because I receive their catalogues every month- despite the fact that I have never ordered one thing from it. Personally, I can't bring myself to buy something without trying it on/seeing it in person/touching the fabric. The chances of me liking something I ordered from a catalogue is low, yet the chances of me being lazy and not returning it are high. I can't risk that. When you are a young, broke college student like myself you have to be wise with your money, and ordering a hot pink lace corset with matching panties is not exactly the wisest decision.

And again, I digress.

The main focus of this post is that nameless half-naked chick above. Despite being a model, she is... an alien. Now before you roll your eyes at me and click on the tiny 'X' in the upper right hand corner of your browser window, hear me out. This woman is not of our species. She is an entirely separate life form. This is blatantly obvious to me, perhaps because I've seen Men in Black and Mars Attacks! like a bazillion times, but I understand that it may not be as obvious to the untrained eye; therefore, I have taken it upon myself to enlighten all three of my readers as to why this 'model' is actually an enemy to humanity.

Top #4 reasons I'm certain the above model chick is related to E.T.:

1.  She has no bellybutton. It's a known fact that humans have belly buttons and aliens do not. I do not see any apparent bellybutton in the above photo- neither an “innie” nor an “outie”. All that I do see is what appears to be a poorly airbrushed bellybutton on her abdomen, which was obviously a lame attempt to make her appear human.  
2. Her hair. It's totally alien style. All tall and conehead-ish. At the same point it's yet another attempt to disguise her alien citizenship, more specifically her misshapen head/bulging brains/space antenna. That hideous bouffant hairdo is not fooling anyone, and neither is that tightly fastened headband.
3. She is floating in thin air. Look at her feet. She is not walking- or as the fashion people say, 'gliding'- down the runway. In actuality she is FLOATING down the runway. What type of beings hover in mid air? Aliens.
4. She is unnaturally thin. She literally does not have an ounce of fat on her and for that I refuse to believe she is an authentic woman. Real women cannot resist the temptations of chocolate, ice cream and wine. She has clearly never had a piece of chocolate in her life. Aliens do not eat; they feed off of energy... and human souls.
5. Her eyes. She is totally giving the alien stare. You can tell that behind those eyes are lasers that have the power to burn a hole through a human body. Notice how disconnected her eyes are from reality? Yeah, it's because she is plotting the demise of mankind.

This isn't an isolated incident either. Look at these other aliens disguised as 'models':

 

Call me paranoid, call me jealous. Whatever. I'm just trying to send out a public warning. You can consciously accept this warning or ignore it, just don't come crying to me when a flock of Calvin Klein models show up to your house and abduct your children and dog.

And now I have a child phobia

Sometimes I get really excited at the thought of having my own kiddo one day. I know- weird, right? I mean, shouldn't I be savoring my youth right now and not fantasizing about being tied down by burps, bottles, blankets and butt rashes?

Don't worry, I'm not trying to give birth to a miniature me anytime soon. I already have my hands full trying to properly train both a puppy and a boyfriend, all while working full-time and finishing up my degrees. Still, I plan on being a mother one day when I have all my ducks in a row.

Though I understand and respect the fact that some men and women choose not to have children, I can't imagine not having one. Kids are cute, entertaining, and hilarious! Yeah they have their bad days but hey, who doesn't? I have like four mental break downs a week, which each typically include a lot of kicking and screaming, so I could easily handle a two year old's temper tantrum. In fact, my child and I will probably have joint tantrums in which together we punch pillows, scream at imaginary people, hit our heads on the wall, and then calm down with milk and cookies. It would make for some great mother-child bonding.

Moreover, having a child will provide me with an excuse for doing a lot of things that I really love doing but, being a young, childless female, am often looked down upon for. For instance, I could finally wear yoga pants all day, every day and simply blame it on the fact that 'little Johnny kept me up to 4 am last night' or 'I've been so busy chasing after little Johnny that I haven't had the chance to do a load of laundry'. Other mothers will praise me for mustering up the strength to actually put on pants, much less yoga pants, and go out in public despite being terrorized by a demon child. Whether or not my child truly is a demon that prevented me from dressing in respectable attire is irrelevant. So long as there is a believable alibi, I'm in the clear. Most importantly though I'll be super duper comfy- and guilt free- in my black stretch pants.

Also, having a child means I will finally have someone in my life that doesn't judge me for my unnatural and often absurd addiction to sweets. When I am inspired to eat ice cream for breakfast one morning or suddenly feel like making Chocolate Peanut Butter Banana Sandwiches (my own creation) in the panini press at 11:30 at night, my child will not shun me as being weird or gluttonous. Instead he/she will undoubtedly support me and be more than eager to join in on the fun. At last I will have a partner in crime to join me in my sugar binges! And let's be real- kids love sweets, meaning I will ultimately become the coolest mom on the block. I will stand apart from all the other flat butt, veggie forcin' mothers. I take great pride in this.

Lastly, when the house is a mess and company is on the way I will no longer stress myself to the max by attempting to do a house wide clean-up in 4.29 minutes. Instead I'll just say, "Hey there! Welcome to the house. Don't mind the mess, little Johnny was a bit of a wild one today! Ha Ha." To be honest I'll probably be contributing to the mess myself. I'll 'innocently' leave a dirty bowl on the living room table or a used towel on the bathroom floor, all while knowing in the back of my head that I can later blame it on my first born. Like I said, so long as there is a believable alibi, I'm in the clear.

So, yeah. One day I want a want a child (maybe two if the first one doesn't traumatize me too much) and I'm fairly excited at the thought of it.

Actually, correction: I was excited at the thought of it.


That is, until I saw this:

... and got totally creeped out. That young girl literally looks devilish. At first I was fully joking when I referred to my future child as a 'demon', but now I am fearful that one day that may be the actual case. From the eerie look in her eyes to the chilling smirk on her face, this child is a certified screwball. Oh! And don't forget to check out those slyly folded hands (which are probably concealing a knife) and the POINTED TOES. My God, the pointed-freakin-toes. Seriously. They give me goosebumps, people.

 

Now I'm afraid that I will have a child and this will happen:

Or maybe even this:

At this point any commentary from bona fide parents would be greatly appreciated. If I don't receive any positive reassurance sometime soon then I may schedule an appointment to have my tubes tied in the very near future.

If I run across another horrifying news story it may end up being a full blown hysterectomy.

World peace in the form of kitchen items

I saw this set of salt and pepper shakers in TJ Maxx and was literally so blown away that I immediately took a picture so that I could share them with all of you. These shakers are not your ordinary shakers. No, no. These shakers are somethin’ special. You see these shakers not only show a love and appreciation for curvy body types thus promoting self love, but they also endorse interracial dating thus promoting free love. I honestly thought they were made by Mother Theresa herself but the ‘Made in Taiwan’ sticker on the bottom confirmed otherwise.

Salt and pepper shakers at TJ Maxx, I applaud you.

Holy tank tops!

While perusing the J Crew website and checking out their 'fall looks', I came across the following clothing item:

Props to J Crew for being non-discriminative and hiring a model with scoliosis.

I'm talking about the tank top, not the pants. That peachy, sparkly thing. Or, as J Crew likes to call it, the "shimmering work of art". To be honest I don't find the top to be entirely repulsive. It could be cute... on someone other than me. Like maybe a ballerina or a figure skater? Or a model with scoliosis? I mean, our lady friend up above doesn't look half bad.

I digress.

What I really want to share with you is the fact that this 'shimmering work of art' comes with an equally astonishing price tag of... *drum roll please*... $495.00.

Yes, FOUR HUNDRED NINETY-FIVE FREAKIN' DOLLARS.

Do you know what I can do with that kind of money? I could buy things. Not a thing, but THINGS. More than just one peachy, sparkly tank top, that's for sure.

For instance, I could buy one hundred twenty-five Auntie Anne's original mall pretzels- or one hundred six if I want each to have its own cheese dipping sauce. That means I could enjoy two pretzels a week- with cheese- for an entire year.  Or better yet, I could have a PRETZEL PAR-TAY at the mall and invite one hundred five of my closest friends (which I obviously don't have but let's just play pretend, ok?)

Don't worry, the enthusiastic service with a smile is free.

I could also purchase almost twenty-five Snuggies, an item that is arguably an item of clothing yet inarguably more comfortable and cozy than a sharp, scratchy sequined tank top. I obviously don't need twenty-five Snuggies so I could donate the other twenty-four to the battered women's shelter located next to my apartment building. I'd like to see that measly tank top warmly clothe an entire facility of domestic violence victims! Not happenin'.

Mary is no longer weeping about her abusive past 'cause she has a SNUGGIE!

Basically, what I'm trying to prove is that I could stretch four hundred ninety-five dollars much farther than a single tank top. I understand that there are in fact individuals who are pretentious enough to spend a considerable amount of money on a tacky item of clothing, but I am not one of them. I'd rather gorge on pretzels and/or make a notable donation to a shelter... or something.

Clarissa: 1, J Crew: 0