Maybe it's the full moon, maybe it's hormones, maybe I'm feeling just a bit bitchy today...but you know what? I am sick to death with the surge in popularity and constant pop-culture bombardment of these ridiculous "Real Housewives" shows. Um, hello ladies? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You are not a friggin' housewife! You are a wife...with a house (albeit a monstrous mansion)...that's pretty much it. House + Wife does NOT = Housewife! Half the time, you're somebody's ex-wife...so you should not even be allowed on the show to begin with. And do not even go there on the "Real" descriptive in the show title. Unless the word "Real" is a euphemism for real...ly good plastic surgery, I do not think "Real" is the term I'd use to describe these ladies. Correction: Oh wait, further research yields a legal clause in the network's fine print telling me that the term "Real" may indeed be app
Well...I try- try to get everything just perfectly so. From family to home, garden, cooking and beyond. Only problem is, well...nothing ever quite turns out the way I had hoped. I live by "almost": It almost fits, is almost edible, almost painted properly, almost deloused, almost safe... Will I ever get it right? Who knows. But along the way, it'll be anything but boring!