Wash your hands.

I work in a largish office building and we share a ladies room with other offices.

I've seen a lot of stuff go down in this room... but nothing quite as disturbing as the increase of those who we call "Yellow Hands."

It is not acceptable to simply turn the faucet on and quickly flash one of your hands through the water. Seriously. You're an adult. Wash your damn hands.

And use soap. It won't kill you.

Or, Option C: I'm hotter than even I realized.

Running from one job to the other on Friday, I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for anything that would get me through the rest of my 15-hour day. I walked in wearing a grey fleece, jeans and my black leather boots. Now, these boots are the kind with a pointy toe and a tall, thin heel that have been called my-- uh-- "make love to me" boots (kids, never mind what that means. And kids, why are you reading this blog? I'm sometime embarrassed to have SJ's mom reading my stuff, let alone small children!)

Anyway, the boots are pretty awesome and were also pretty much covered up by my jeans (and did I mentioned I was wearing a drab, gray fleece?) So, I'm standing at the counter and I hear a man say, "Those are nice boots." I turn around and find a guy in a fraying sweatshirt and baggy jeans with a big gut and his 10-year-old son standing next to him. Seeing as how his son was there, I simply answered, "Thank you" and turned back around.

But, seriously, what was that about? I think we have a couple of options here. Option A: This guy, despite his complete lack of fashion sense in his own wardrobe, is a connoisseur of women's fashion and truly appreciated my choice of footwear for the day. Option B: Despite the presence of his 10-year-old son and the fact that there was nothing else appealing about what I was wearing, he was drawn in by my fantastic-- uh-- "make love to me" boots and couldn't resist commenting on them. Either way, it was creepy (not that I would stop wearing the boots or anything, but still, it was creepy.)

Let me know if anyone finds an all-chocolate diet that makes you lose weight...

The Pretend Husband, the Pretend In-laws and I on Saturday hit up one the many country fairs that will be going on in our neck of the woods. The first thing we did when we got onto the fairgrounds was walk up and down the line of food booths and decide what to have for lunch. Out of all the offerings-- which included fried Oreos, chili dogs, baked potatoes, cotton candy, ice cream, sausages, grinders and those huge turkey legs-- you know what I chose? A salad.

I went to a fair and got a salad (and it wasn't even deep-fried!) I thought I was kidding when I told the PH on the way to the fair that I intended to have a salad for lunch. I thought I was joking because I've never been to a fair where anything even resembling a vegetable was available unless it was battered and fried. But I found the one booth at the fair that was offering healthy food and-- this is the most surprising part-- bought something.

I've been trying to eat better lately in an attempt to slim down. I've been exercising a bit more and am using an app on my iPhone that allows a person to track how many calories they consume each day. In order to lose a pound and a half a week, I'm allowed 1,500 calories a day. I'm here to tell you that 1,500 calories a day is not a lot. It's a granola bar and coffee for breakfast, two small snacks, a Lean Pocket for lunch, a turkey dog and tater tots for dinner and Jell-o or an ice cream sandwich for dessert. Actually, writing that out makes it seem like a lot, but I'm hungry just about all the time, so it doesn't seem that way during the day.

But it seems to be working. My pants feel just a bit looser (let's be real, 2 or 3 pounds isn't exactly noticeable-- even when I tell the PH to squint and look really hard to see if he spots any difference). And I feel healthier and better about my eating habits. But still, let me repeat this: I went to a fair and ate salad. It doesn't get any more hard core than that.

Do you think she'll share? It will make work so much easier to take.

The Pretend Mother-in-Law had surgery last week and so the Pretend Husband and I headed over to the hospital to visit her that night. While the PMIL is normally a pretty quiet and sort of nervous person, she seemed to come out of her shell that night and was chatting about all sorts of topics. It was a great conversation that made the 90 minutes we were with her fly by.

On the way home, I remarked to the PH how upbeat and outgoing his mom seemed and mused that maybe it was because I'm not used to spending time with her without her husband around. But the PH thought differently: "It's probably the drugs."

Lo and behold, when I called her today to see how she's feeling, she was giggly and cheerful, and when I said, "You sound like you're doing well," she replied, "It's the Percocet!" and start giggling like crazy. I guess the PH knew what he was talking about after all.

SJ's Letters to the Masses version 3.1: The Ren Faire Letters

Dear Man who attends Renaissance Faires to grope the actors,

You're icky, sir. And I realize that I may be dressed somewhat funny, and I realize that you find my outfit very pleasing to the eye, but come now. Would you want random men groping your sister?

Do I invite your groping? No, sir. I do, in fact, not.

Please back away.

Sincerely,
sj

*****
Dear Freecreditreport.com,

On behalf of all singers and musicians that perform at festivals while dressed in costume: Thanks. Thanks a whole freaking lot. My credit is just *fine* thank you.

I bite my thumb at you, sirs.

Unapologetically,
sj

*****
Dear People who laugh at me for dressing up like Heidi and singing at such festivals,

I get paid. And I look *fabulous.*

And little girls wish to be me. (It's cool though, parents. I totally warn them away from a life of singing sea shanties while wearing a corset.)

Yours in song,
SJ

******
Dear 22-year-old SCA enactor,

I'm sorry, but we are not "fated to be together" in this lifetime, or the next. My husband is both a history nerd *and* a hottie.

Not, in fact, yours,
SJ

what I do when my husband isn't home part 2

i sent this pic to my husband who had to work on monday. i did not. i also informed him that i picked up the dog poop in the yard and reminded him we had plans for dinner with KAT and SRG and their hubbies.



he told me i was the best wife ever. i think, however, if he had other wives, i probably wouldn't retain that title. and we probably wouldn't be married.

as for dinner? such a great time. as always. i love SRG and KAT oodles, mostly because they are fun and don't pick on me for wearing renaissance outfits and singing to twos of people. oh wait. they *do* pick on me for that. but i love them anyway. silly bitches.

current itunes song: "all my friends" LCD Soundsystem featuring Franz Ferdinand