FaFa La La La

I don’t know about you guys, but I might never eat again. I was literally in pain for 3 nights this weekend as a result of shoving food down my throat until I couldn’t breathe. Then, tonight, I capped it all off with eating dessert for dinner. Prinna had a little Christmas party at her house, the first time she’s been able to decorate a house for Christmas in like 3 years, and served chocolate fondue, pumpkin pie cheesecake, pretzels topped with melty Rolos, brownies, and cupcakes. My thighs jiggled just by looking at the table of food. But that’s all over now. Now it’s back to veggies instead of chocolate and water instead of apple cider with rum.

Okay, so my family is VERY tradition-heavy. We do the same things every year for holidays. It’s quite regimented, but I dig it. I love the comfort of knowing what to expect at the holidays, and being sufficiently prepared. One of the Thanksgiving traditions we have in my family is to have all the women participate in a Celebrity Draft. Each of us picks 10 celebrities from a predetermined list in a draft. There’s number-crunching, strategies, and some of us get super in to it. Then, this website www.fafarazzi.com tracks the celebrity blogs and online mags. For every mention a celebrity gets on them, you get a point for him/her. At the end, the winner gets the highly coveted Fafa trophy. So from Thanksgiving night through Christmas, the 12 of us root for people like Paris Hilton to marry Kanye West in a weekend drunken stupor, and then have a baby.

Needless to say, I won last year. By a mile. I mean, I had TIGER WOODS on my team. So, I’ve got a majorly big target on my back. But this year, my team blows. My best “player” is Lindsay Lohan, and unfortunately for me, I really think she’s legitimately trying to not do drugs anymore. Big time bummer for me. I’m going to go ahead and need Jon Hamm and Blake Lively to come out with a sex tape…both are on my team and STRUGGLING. Zero points a piece. It’s like they don’t even care that I drafted them…geez. I've GOT to win that trophy, you guys. I really just have to. My pride is on the line.

Another tradition is for my insane mother and sisters to wake up at 3 a.m. on Friday morning and hit up the Black Friday sales. I’ve never gone with them. It’s like MY tradition to NOT participate. They wake up, shop for 12 hours wearing matching shirts, and then come home with bags and bags of crap stuff they found for 80% off with Doorbuster Sales. Instead of shopping with them, I babysit their kids. I LOVE babysitting the four kids. It’s so much more fun than plowing through a group of 40 year-old women who are over caffeinated and under-rested to get to the half-priced snow globes. Well, to each her own, I guess.

Well, now it’s on to Christmas traditions. I’ve pulled out my tiny shoe box of Christmas decorations and will now start the traditional Nagging of the Geo to put up the Christmas lights. And then he and I will go and pick out an obnoxiously enormous Christmas tree, bring it home, and decorate it while listening to some Mariah Carey Christmas music. And drinking apple cider with rum. And probably eating chocolate. (Yeah, turns out I can’t NOT eat/drink that stuff you guys…you just don’t mess with tradition.)

Bring it on, Christmas. I’m totally ready for the next round of traditions (I've already done the annual Changing of the Ringtone to Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You). Now if only Robert Pattinson has a Christmas tradition of, say, getting major plastic surgery or a sex change, I’ll be set to win the Fafa trophy again. T’is the season!

Happy Stanksgiving!

Oh Thanksgiving…a day to give thanks by shoving your face with turkey and gravy and potatoes and pie then taking a nice long nap on the floor. Just like the pilgrims did. I’m sure we’ve all got lots of things to be thankful for. Family, friends, and the love we share. But I feel kind of bad, you guys. I mean, lots of things get overlooked on this fine, festive holiday. Pilgrims and Native Americans didn’t know what they were missing when they sat around in a cornfield and gave thanks for buffalo or polio blankets or whatever. So, here’s just a quick list of things I’m thankful for that got overlooked at the First Thanksgiving.

* TMZ for all the news I need to know
* Automatic car starters in Minnesota winters
* Texting
* My new subscription to Vogue that JUST came in the mail (Eeeee!!!)
* Shoes. Lovely, lovely shoes.
* The ability to Pay at the Pump
* People with British accents
* Spanx
* Kate Spade
* Google desktop, so I can see Facebook, Twitter, Email, People magazine, the weather, and my horoscope all on one page
* Trader Joe’s and their wonderfully drinkable 3-buck Chuck wine
* My Crest Spinbrush toothbrush, ‘cause sometimes I don’t have the energy to do that whole “up-and-down” thing
* Blogs

Yeah, those are all great things that stupid Pilgrims never knew anything about. Okay, so they had turkey and new friends who they would eventually trick and steal from, but I’ll never know how they did it without checking in with Foursquare or eviting people to the shindig.

Alright, if we could bring down the house lights and get a little serious up in this piece for a second, I just wanted to say that there’s some real stuff I’m thankful for.

* My sister Prinna. She literally INSISTED that I start blogging all those many moons ago. She showed me how to design my page, helped me come up with the name, and designed the header. All for little ol’ me. She’s like the bombest person ever, and I’m very thankful for her.
* My mom who reads every blog SECONDS after I post one, and then writes me little emails when she really likes a particular entry. She is the ideal fan, and I love her.
* My dedicated, and sometimes wonderfully vocal, group of readers. Especially: My grandmaman, Padrin, Aunt Sarah, Cindi, Geo, all the boys who admit to reading a girlie blog (and liking it!), Liz, Ally, Madeline, and Kim for actually SHARING the blog on Facebook which spreads the blog like it’s the flu. You all rule.

Yes. I love writing this blog. I’m very THANKFUL to have it and that you guys read it. I’m thankful that my parents put me through college to write, only to end up reading about how much I love my couch and my thoughts on Lindsay Lohan. Classic.

Enough with the wishy-washy. I’m going back to my vodka tonic and deciding which sweatpants go best with cranberry stains. Have a fabulous Thanksgiving, everyone!

Stacy Square!!

Hey y’all!! Stacy here! I’m an alter-ego Pharon concocted once during college to help her cope with late night studying, and then I reemerged during one of her old jobs when she discovered REAL stress. I LOOOVE studying and working hard!! I have infinite energy, and Pharon has asked me to guest blog tonight because that wussy girl was too tired. Poor thing. But double YAY for me! I’m totally stoked to be here, you guys. And I know we’ll be fast friends for life! So, while Pharon snoozes the deep sleep of people who don’t want to enjoy every single second of life, I’m going to take over for her.

You guys? I am so loving life right now. Unlike Pharon, I woke up ready to get the day started! I love mornings! There is so much promise and hope to each new day. I enjoyed a beautiful run around the neighborhood, smiling at all my neighbors and handing out high-fives to all the wonderful kiddies on their way to school. I love other people's kids! Then I came home and paid all my bills - early. I spent hours doing my hair and putting on makeup and ironing my clothes.

Pharon never irons clothes. She doesn’t even know where the iron is. Does she know we even HAVE an iron? Poor thing, probably not. She’s such an adorable little mess...

Then I went on another run because I love exercise. Then off to the food shelter to feed the homeless! I just LOVE volunteering whenever I have a spare moment. I mean, what ELSE would I do? Watch T.V.? Grody. I have way too much energy to sit and stare at OTHER people living life.

So, these days I’m kind of busy. I’m getting a Ph.D. in English, Rocket Science, and Medicine. I mentor kids on the weekends and am a foster parent for abandoned pit bulls and rats. I’ve started my own business where I design and print my own wrapping paper, and it’s really catching on. Susan Sarandon is my biggest client. I love saving money and studying the stock market to fully understand how to best invest my money. I’ve just become fluent in Mandarin Chinese and sign language, and last night I was informed that I won both a Betty Crocker cook-off and an MTV VMA.

Even though I’m a little busier than usual these days, I totally jumped at the chance to guest blog for Pharon. She kept begging me, saying “Come on, man! I need you to do this for me. I worked all day and my head hurts from snarling at people all day.” Poor Pharon. Doesn’t she know that she’d have more energy if she just ate vegetables, smiled all day long, went on a couple runs everyday, and didn’t drink wine while she cleaned the house? (I don’t drink. Blech! Never touch the stuff. It slows down my brain and makes it difficult to do the complex math problems that I love so much.)

I’m the Angelina to Pharon’s Jennifer Aniston. I would totally adopt a billion kids, but right now, what with my house doubling as a halfway house for teen runaways battling depression, I just don’t have the space.

So, you can probably see why Pharon keeps me around right now. I like to step in and take over her life when she’s too tired or angry or uninspired. Though, she doesn’t have me come around a lot, because she also thinks I’m horribly annoying. Oh well! I have this awesome little feeling that Pharon will want me around a lot more now. I’m always ready to go, I’m up for anything, and nothing ever makes me mad. I think I might bring Pharon a glass of warm milk and maybe I’ll run out and buy her a Nature Sounds machine. I like knowing she’s getting a good rest. Meanwhile, I’ll off for a late-night workout session followed by a quick trip to Mars to search for elements that will cure cancer.

Okay, nice to meet y’all (BTW, I’m also selectively Southern)! I can’t wait to totally hang out again! I’ll bring some homemade scones! Hugs and Kisses!

<3 Stacy

Potty Humor

I spent an hour cleaning our bathroom tonight. Like CLEANING clean. Scrubbing, disinfecting, sweeping, drinking wine, wiping, vacuuming, drinking wine…but now our bathroom smells like bleach and an apple-scented candle. Kind of gross, but clean. Wonderfully clean. I talked to my mom after achieving this feat, and I told her about going through an entire roll of paper towels and not knowing how to change the vacuum bag. She said “Pharon, all I did when you guys were kids was clean. All day everyday”. Touche, Mother. I totally inherited my mom's talent in the quick pick-up, but failed to really digest the CLEANING part.

When I was young, the seven worst words a kid in my family could hear were “KIDS!! Meet me in the front hallway!” To this day it send shivers down my spine. That phrase, yelled by my mom, was the death of a good time. The killer of buzzes, the hater of fun. When my mom yelled that, the five of us kids knew: It was time to clean. Corralling the five kids in the front hallway meant a little tour of our house, cleaning room by room. We’d go from hallway, to the off-limits fancy living room where Perek spilled pen ink all over one of the couches, to the dining room, to the family room where our dog Pele had chewed through an entire chair, and ending in the horrifying nightmare that was the kitchen. If my mom was feeling particularly masochistic, we’d top off the tour with the front hall closet. That’s where we’d throw everything we had just cleaned up in the Family Room.

Five kids are messy. We’d leave our crap everywhere. You could follow the progress of someone’s day by following the trail of toys and socks all around the house. My poor mom, though. Our dining room table, with a gorgeous dark-wood dining room table, was constantly covered with stacks and stacks of kids clothes, sorted by kid. Every other day. One by one, we’d gather our stacks of clothes and go throw them on the floors of our rooms as my mom yelled “And don’t throw those clean clothes on your floor!” Miserable, rotten kids…

When we’d get to the kitchen, Perek would always get what we called “work bladder”. We’d be standing before the stacks of dishes and failed science projects, about to tackle the towers of dishes abandoned by us mid-meal, and Perek would declare, “I have to go to the bathroom”. Forty-five minutes later, as the Soft Scrub was finally being washed from the sinks, Perek would emerge from his room and say, “Oh, it’s already done?” Lazy, good-for-nothing kids…

But by FAR the worst cleaning was before a big family gathering. My mom wouldn’t stand for the hidden socks in the silverware drawer, or the tricky way we’d hide garbage under the couch cushions anymore. No. We actually had to CLEAN. I have this distinct memory of dusting the TV with a t-shirt I found under the kitchen table. That counts, right?

Which is why I found myself scrubbing the bejesus out of the bathroom tonight. It wasn’t even dirty. But that whole “Pre-Holiday” clean panic has set in. Geo’s family is coming to our house for Thanksgiving, and while I highly doubt they will be eating anywhere around my make-up case, I still find it totally necessary to wipe every bottle and organize every hair binder.

Now I’m intoxicated by the nostalgic scent of Soft Scrub, and a little buzzed from the wine I drank. And maybe it’s the combination of those two things, but I have the sudden urge to tuck some garbage under the couch cushion. Just don’t tell my mom…

Have An Ice Day!

So, how was your weekend? Lovely? Fun? Boring? Horrible? Well, I hope it was fabulous. It’s getting to that time of year when weekends are uber-crazy. Everything is just wacky, everyone is busy, and there’s always something going on. I’m okay with that, I think. Yes, I love sleeping in (and did so on Saturday until about 10:30 a.m.) and killing time in the kitchen by trying out new recipes (I did THAT on Sunday. Sweet potato fries with fancy dip, breakfast tartlets, and brownies). But there’s nothing wrong with hanging out and seeing friends (did that on Friday night after going to the Timberwolves game with Geo) or spending time with family (yup, did that tonight. Had dinner at my parents house and helped my mom construct a collage-y type thing of family photos).

The one major kink in the chain this weekend, though, was the rando ice storm that jacked up Minnesota on Saturday night. I spent the day running errands and cooking above-average tasting stuff. Then at about 11 p.m., Geo had this genius idea to go to Perkins in our pajamas. For pretty much no reason. Again: Rando. I brushed my hair for the first time that day and we bundled up to go out for unlimited diet Cokes and probably a Chocolate Chipper Sundae or something. Zummy! We walked outside and I came thisclose to wiping out on our front steps. In the past few hours, the rain had turned into a deadly ice trap and there was like 1/2 inch of ice covering everything. Still determined, we started driving away, but my car slid right through the first stop sign. Strike one. Then we slipped right through a second one. Strike two. Then, after deciding that driving to a ghetto Perkins in our pajamas during an ice storm was just not a sane plan, we turned around to go home. I barely had to turn the wheel to pull an impromptu U-turn because my car just skidded to wherever it wanted. Strike three. We’re out. Totally crazy-fun Saturday night ruined.

Then this morning, Geo asked me if I wanted to go run around the street sliding around on the ice. Normal people ask that, right? No. No, DOGS want to do those kinds of things. Anyway, I politely declined, noting my inherent ability for tripping and falling at the mere SIGHT of slippery surfaces. To tempt those icy fates would be dental suicide. I keep having these visions of me slipping face-first onto some ice and knocking out my front teeth, and I’m particularly fond of those particular teeth. In response to that fear, Geo said, “Well, Pharon, that’s why you don’t fall ON YOUR FACE. You fall BACKWARDS.” Really? Gee, thanks Isaac Newton for explaining that to me. All these years, I missed that basic concept.

Historically, I don’t do well “walking” in the “winter”. There was that time I slipped on the ice outside a hotel in Iowa City in front of a massive post-bar close crowd. I slipped while trying to get over a huge mound of snow to get to my car and fell face-first into a snow bank, dumping all the contents of my purse into the snowy gutter. And in general, I just look like a dog on a skating rink whenever I go anywhere. I’m uncomfortable. I’m uneasy. I’m an accident waiting to happen.

So besides the ice in a vodka tonic, I prefer to keep far away from the frozen death trap. I hate that feeling I get right BEFORE I slam onto my tailbone and/or face. You know the one: the momentary airiness of your legs, the reflex to try and stabilize yourself with the other foot, only to do a little awkward shuffle before becoming all too aware of the weight of your own body and that evil, evil beyotch that is Gravity. Well, call me crazy, but I’ll do whatever I can to, eh hem, sidestep that landmine.

Okay, folks. Let’s keep our feet firmly planted on the ground this week, shall we? We’ve only got a few more days before the holiday season really kicks off, and I’d like to make it through 2010 with all my original teeth.

Go Ahead...Make My Day

I got my hair cut tonight. Exciting, huh? I know, my life is sooooo glamorous. But sitting in that salon chair got me thinking. About what? I don’t know. Lots of stuff, I guess. One of those things was how much I babble when I’m sitting there. I used to go to the same girl over and over. But the conversations got stale, and she was one of those people who blasted my face with the hair dryer until I couldn’t breathe. Yeah, she got the boot.

So, now I visit the Aveda Instruction Salon from time to time, where the stylists are like not quite certified and they need live models. You know, like animal testing. Because let’s face it, people. I’ve got the hair of a hippie. It’s long, straight, and just kind of like there. It’s too thin to be luxurious, too fine to be voluminous. The point is, it’s not hard to cut my hair. Snip, snip, clip, clip, pay at the front desk. I used to spend $75 at the fancy salon with the cucumber water and complimentary micro-dermabrasion treatments in the lobby. And then I’d walk out looking much like I look tonight. But now, going to the teaching salon, I saved like $50. Sure, my hair wasn’t completely dry when I left, and it took like an hour-and-a-half to trim ¾ of inch off, but I participated in the teaching experience. And I’m proud of that.

Okay, so I’m sitting there, telling myself to just chill and play it cool. Before I knew it, though, I found myself telling this girl, who was all of 17, about all my personal issues. Family issues, living-arrangement issues, I just basically threw up on her. Poor Alexis. She handled it like a champ, though. And yes, I have a clump of my own hair in my mouth, but she was really very sweet.

Another thing I noticed, when my hair was all wet and matted down to my head, and my tiny pinhead was sticking out the top of a giant cape, was that I don’t wear enough make up. Or have a tan. And at the end of the work day, the make up that I DID have on had gradually made its way down my face and into thin air. I was a straight-up mess. I looked awful. I looked around at all the shiny haired, perfectly coiffed stylist girls, each with their fancy matching outfits and coordinated jewelry, and I just felt like an ogre. Salons are supposed to make you feel good. Aveda, in particular, is supposedly full of “Day Makers”. Not the case. I’d prefer my stylists homely and unfortunate with a jelly stain on their sweater. I’d feel GREAT there. Anyone know of a place like that?

So, then the big reveal came. She whips the cape off, spins me around and says, “So???? Whaddya think??” I always feel like I feel when the waiter opens a bottle of wine for me and stands there while I pretend to know what I’m supposed to say. I WANT to say, “Yeah. So…it’s shorter! And, it appears as though it’s shiny and clean. Thanks!” I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t know how carefully to inspect it, or how much I need to gush. I always ALWAYS overdo it. “OHMYGOD! I love it! It’s like I have different hair! This looks amazing!”

I left feeling like instead of having MY day made, I made HER day. And then I over-tipped because I can’t do math and panicked at the check out desk. I think I might consider going back to my old system of trimming my own hair after a glass of wine with dull scissors from the knife block in the kitchen.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Wednesday....????

The results of last week’s Wednesday Winner poll are in!! And the response has been...underwhelming. I’m no clearer about the fate of my weekly awards than I was last week. Some people said “Keep it.” Some said “Keep it, but only focus on famous people.” Some said “Eh, whatever.” Still others said “Seriously, Pharon! I don’t care! Now get out of my house.”

So...Whatever. I’m going to still do them. I like giving away fictitious awards and keeping people on their toes. And I like alliteration. A lot. So, it'll just be Wednesday Whatever-I-Want type of thing. Because at the end of the day, does anyone really care? Probs not. And it keeps me on a schedule, and I dig a good schedule, people.

With all that said, here it is Wednesday and I have no Winner with which to dazzle you. It’s been a pretty regular week, and reflecting back on the whole week, I’ve decided that I’m sort of like “Eh, whatever” about most of it.

I think I need a Wednesday Eh, Whatever. You know, okay, so Prince William and Kate Middleton are engaged. Sorry, but Eh, Whatever. I guess he’s some sort of royalty? Is that right? Well, I like my Kings and Queens a little more, um, LOCAL. I DO think it’s creepy that he proposed with his mother’s engagement ring, which she wore everyday until THEY DIVORCED. Call me crazy, but I’d be a little skeezed out. Maybe he should have given her one of Di’s PERSONAL rings or something. Not a physical symbol of failed marriage.

Still, I’m just like “Meh” about the whole thing. Same goes for Eva Longoria and the fact that she filed for divorce today. Her husband cheated on her. Big shocker…what male celebrity DOESN’T cheat these days? I have to give him props for at least being quite gutsy about it. He is some sort of professional basketball player, I’m told. And he cheated with a TEAMMATES WIFE, but then I found out that the teammate and his wife were in the midst of a divorce of their own anyway. So I went back to Eh, whatever…

To top it off, it’s the time of year where it’s not QUITE the holiday season, but not quite NOT the holiday season. You following me? In downtown Minneapolis, the hanging baskets of flowers were removed from the street lights this week. As if illustrating my point, the city has set the flower replacements - big, light up snowflakes - right NEXT to the street lights. They haven’t quite gotten around to HANGING THEM yet. They’re like “Eh. Whatever. We’ve got about 7 months of winter to do it…” It’s like they’re reading my mind.

So in lieu of a Winner this week, I guess I’m going with a Whatever. Who knows what next week will bring? Wednesday Wimp? Wino? Wednesday Whil Wheaton (that’s for all you Family Guy fans out there) Wednesday Whodunnit? Now that’d be awesome…maybe next week, I’ll have like a mystery I need you guys to solve. I don’t know. Whatever.