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Before I dive headfirst into the first day of our trip, I have to get something off my chest:
Roberto?! Really… I mean, really?!
Chris was the perfect guy. He was the normal guy. He was the guy who was taking things at an appropriate speed and cautiously hinting at his feelings like, um, a normal dude would.
Don’t get me wrong, I think Roberto’s plenty nice on the eyes and seems sweet enough.
But Chris… Chris!
Dumb move, Allie. Dumb, dumb move.
My friend was so distraught over her choice, she chucked several M&Ms at the TV. You know a woman is pissed when she uses precious, crunchy chocolate as a projectile. Read more on #BlogHer10: Day One in New York!…
That title is about to get a little more funny.
Read on. You’ll see.
This past weekend, a pregnant chick I had just met was talking about this new cupcake place she had been to. She said the cupcakes were amazingly delicious. She mentioned that one cupcake had salted caramel frosting and she loved it.
I had never heard of salted caramel before. I like salt. I like caramel. But together? I needed convincing.
And anyway, this woman is pregnant… her tastebuds can’t be trusted, can they? I know mine were whacked out when I was pregnant.
Still, I was intrigued. Read more on I am a master baker!…
Irony (ˈī-rə-nē or, for normal people: eye-ron-ee):
When a child named Colby absolutely cannot stand cheese.
Thank goodness we didn’t name him Colby Jack…
(Seriously, though, who doesn’t like cheese?! My kid is a weirdo.)
I have to be completely honest with you: This blog post makes me want to cry. In fact, as I uploaded the pictures for this post and looked back at that face Lily gave me… it choked me up.
Take a trip back in time with me, to April 13th, 1990. In case you’re not a super calendar genius, that was Good Friday and also Friday the 13th.
I’m not an incredibly superstitious person, but boy-howdy, was that a bad day for me.
It was the last day of school before Spring Break and my first grade teacher (the spectacularly fantastic Ms. Simon) had set up a big ‘ole Easter party for us. We …
I’m fairly certain my friend Michelle is a culinary genius. So maybe she doesn’t create amazing meals straight out of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French
Cooking, but she could write her own cookbook entitled Mastering the Art of Lazy Cooking.
Yes, I said lazy.
Don’t get me wrong (or punch me, Michelle), I don’t mean lazy in a bad way. I’m lazy. I want to waste …
