Sometimes when I’m driving I think: What if I get in an accident and die today? Well…at least I’m wearing cute underwear!
Tag Archives: Thong
Case of the Mondays…Repepepepepeat
28 MarI’d like to bring you another fan favorite from back in the good ‘ole days when I was a very crabby pregnant chick.
Beware, this post not only involves this Italian chick’s bad attitude but it also details crapping my pants, losing my panties, and, also a reader favorite, conversations with my stalker….
Enjoy!
Image courtesy of Yahoo Photos
I can’t even begin to tell you all that had gone down in a 24 hour period, but because I can laugh at myself I will tell you this.
I am pregnant – and how I LOVE being pregnant – NOT – and one of the joys of pregnancy hit me on Sunday afternoon. I pooped my pants.
Seriously. I’m not shitting you – LOL – I pooped my pants. WTF you ask? Well, I went downtown for brunch with my bestie. After brunch we went back to her place and talked in her sitting room for about 30 minutes before I decided to head back to the ‘burbs. I had to go to the bathroom, but her boyfriend was upstairs sick and lying on the couch. I figured I could hold it the 30 minute ride home, no problem.
The ride home wasn’t too bad. I was listening to Lady Gaga and enjoying the sunshine. My window was cracked and I was texting away (naughty, I know.) I exited the highway and was nearing home. As I turned down my street it was as though it hit me like a ton of bricks. ‘Shit, I need to shit. Shit, I need to shit NOW,’ I think.
I put my car in park and ran in the house. Thank God my husband, who had left the house, left the back door unlocked. I raced in the door and my dog was under my feet. I was yelling “Dexter, MOVE!” I’m trying to set my coffee down, my purse, my keys…I’m running towards the bathroom. And then it happened.
O-M-G.
Honestly, it was so unbelievable and so funny that I wasn’t even upset about it. In fact, I texted those that I’m close to and said, “OMG, I just pooped my pants! I’m not shitting you, LOL.” I laughed.
I would think that would be my FML (f*ck my life) for the next year….but then I woke up Monday morning. After a restless night of sleep the alarm went off. I felt like I slept a total of 1 hour the entire night. I was exhausted.
I got up and still half-asleep managed to take a shower and get ready for work. I decided to throw on the jeans that I wore the night before. (Don’t worry, I wore different jeans Sunday night then the jeans I pooped in.)
Driving to work all that was on my brain was COFFEE NOW. I pulled into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot. I get out of the car to walk inside. There sits my stalker. Side note – let’s discuss my stalker. I have a stalker at Dunkin Donuts who loves to talk to me about my perfume, my black “hooker” boots, my love of the Cubs, and whatever else he can get me to talk about with him in the 4 minute trip to get my morning java.
He seems like a nice enough guy, albeit strange. He once told me that he makes his own coffee at home to save money. WTF? And then you still come to the DD parking lot to sit around? Strange. But, I decided to have him checked out by a cop friend and he came up clean so I just say hello and keep our conversations to a minimum.
So back to the story, I am walking inside DD on this breezy Monday morning. My stalker jumps out of his car and says, “Starting Monday off right, huh?”
I think, ‘If only you knew, Mr. Stalker, what the last 24 hours of my life have entailed. If only….’ But I really smile and say, “Uh-huh,” while I walk in.
I’ve gotta be honest, I was sort of feeling like “the shit” despite my exhaustion that morning. I was sort of feeling like a “hot mess.” I was wearing my tight trendy prego jeans and a cute black maternity top. The maternity top was quite low and when I walked even I was intrigued by my bouncing bosom.
A man and a woman pull up in a Lexus and both give me an odd look. I think to myself, ‘Daaammnnn, I look so good today that this couple is checking me out!’
Yeah – It gets better.
I get my coffee and am walking back to my car. As I walk I look down. I see a pair of black … panties? WTF, is that a black thong in the parking lot? I continue to approach it and see a white tag that says DKNY.
HOLY F*CKING SH*T BALLS, that is my f*cking thong! WHAT THE F*CK!?!?!
On Sunday – after the pants pooping – I showered and dug in my under garments drawer for a pair of panties I hadn’t worn in some time. My hand pulled out the black DKNY thong. ‘Holy sh*t,’ I thought, ‘When was the last time I wore this? I haven’t seen these in forever.’
I was super excited putting them on. My DKNY thong. What a purchase. I remember the day I bought those at Von Maur. But, let’s not get off on a tangent.
As I step over my thong – far too embarrassed to pick it up – I get in the car and grieve for my DKNYs. ‘This is a sad day,’ I think. ‘How could this happen?’
It starts to come full circle. The night before, I came home, ripped my pants off and tossed them on the dining room table. (Again, I can’t get off on another tangent, but my house in under construction and currently my closet = the dining room.)
This morning – when I’m half asleep and dressing – apparently I never pulled the thong out of the pants? Apparently I never felt the thong in my pants? Apparently I never felt the thong fall out of my pants. Truly mortified I sit in the car in disbelief.
I shout out loud, “Is my f*cking life a joke to you, God?”
He doesn’t answer. I probably shouldn’t have said f*ck. Well, so be it. Good-bye DKNYs.
Fast forward to today. I’m pulling into the DD parking lot and am certain that my stalker stole my panties to display on his probable shrine of me in his station wagon. But wait – NO – the DKNYs are there! They lay in the same spot. I contemplate this for a moment. Do I be a pussy and leave this $20 pair of underwear or do I pick them up?
I place my car in park near where the DKNYs sit. I get out of the car, deep in thought. What to do…what to do. As I step out of DD, something comes over me. I decide I’m taking my life back. I’m picking up the DKNYs. I’m just gonna do it!
With my Couch purse on my shoulder and my head held high I walk over to the thong. I look at my stalker who sits in his station wagon watching me. ‘F*ck it,’ I think, ‘I want my f*cking panties back!’
With a shit eating grin I smile and bend over. I pick up the thong and try to stick it in my pocket. Yeah, well, I f*ck that up to. My stupid pocket is buttoned close. I continue to smile and open the door of my Mercedes Benz and sit inside. I feel an overwhelming rush of true happiness. I did it! Holy sh*t, I did it! I picked up my thong underwear!
I put my car in drive, wave at my stalker and pull out of the DD parking lot – while I scream.
The Mothership Called Me To… Juicy Couture?
25 Nov
There are many things in life that I love.
-My family
-My friends
-Animals
Generic, right?
-Wine and iced coffee
Better…
But, if you’ve been reading my blog you know my one true love is my Juicy Couture bag.
I’m embarrassed to say how I even stumbled upon Juicy Couture, back in my early 20s, when I was very poor and uncool. (Not a good combo, but thank goodness I grew out of BOTH of those phases…)
Anyways, so back in the day when Mancow was on Q101 I used to listen to him in the a.m. as I got ready to go to my real estate job in Hinsdale. Working in Hinsdale made me so desperate to be rich it actually turned me into a huge b*tch and I detail about that time in my book, Concrete Boots. I promise my book will be coming out…and SOON!
So anyways, while I was listening to Mancow one morning he talked about how his girlfriend at the time (who is now his wife) was obsessed with Juicy Couture. He would get so mad that she would go spend his precious earned dollars on Juicy Couture tracksuits with the word “Juicy” written on the rear.
He said, “Sorry people. Sorry I don’t want my woman walking around with Juicy on her @ss! That’s not appropriate…” He would go on and on. I was in a trance…what is this Juicy Couture?? Then when my US Magazine starting showing a lot of celebs wearing Juicy I was sold.
I don’t think celebs wear a ton of Juicy anymore…too many common folk wear it now. But, I don’t care. I’m obsessed. For me Juicy Couture is expensive enough that not everyone is wearing it, but affordable enough that I have to work hard for it so therefore I really appreciate it. When I get a new Juicy Couture bag I’m like, omg, this is heaven. I’ll never forget the day I bought my 1st Juicy Couture bag for myself for my 30th birthday. Hellzz yeah, I’ve made it now, I thought.
Now, not to brag, but I’ve graduated to Pjs, panties, perfumes, shirts, purses, a diaper bag, and finally…and I mean FINALLY … my 1st Juicy Couture tracksuit.
Let me tell you this story.
Last month I was in Phoenix visiting family. One night my hubby and I went to meet some friends in Scottsdale for happy hour. Super fun night and I had the best coconut martini ever at the Tommy Bahama restaurant plus, you know, a glass of wine or two.
I had a little buzz on and as we were leaving to walk back to our car we were walking through Kierland Commons, an upscale outdoor shopping area in Scottsdale, and my friend, Liz, who obvs knows I’m obsessed with Juicy says, “Jen, look, there’s the Juicy Couture store.”
Me standing outside Juicy Couture!
O-M-G.
What?!?
See, all my Juicy Couture purchases have been made at Von Maur (a Nordstom-type department store we have in Chicago which is the greatest store ever because they have an interest-free credit card!) or the Juicy Couture Outlet at Chicago Premium Outlets.
I know it’s probably totes uncool (by the way, totes is my new word) to shop at the outlet mall, but what can I say? A deal is a deal, and I always say that when my book makes me famous like JK Rowling I will still shop at Target!
So, anyways, I just went off on a tangent. Vacation. A couple drinks. A beautiful night. The aura of Juicy Couture. It’s like the makings of a rom-com. I said, “I have to go in there.”
My friends laughed and carried on, and my husband, knowing I would rather die than go home without going in Juicy Couture said made the big mistake of saying, “OK, let’s go in.”
It was like heaven on Earth.
I walked in and my head started playing its own little theme song like Ally McBeal. There were clothes and shoes and jewelry and purses and tracksuits and pink…there was pink everywhere. And beautiful displays. And beautiful people.
The beautiful Juicy Couture store at Kierland Commons
This is amazing. I have to buy something. I must. I mean, this is the official Juicy Couture store, not the stupid outlet mall or Von Maur. I mean, this is the real deal.
What kind of an example would I be setting for my daughter if I chose to simply walk by? That’s not following your dreams. That’s not being true to yourself! I work hard, damn it, and I want Juicy Couture!
Uh-oh. My husband should have known better, he really should have. I don’t blame him, I’m just saying. Sometimes dealing with me can be tough, you know, so he picks his battles. He did remind me of bills we had to pay when we got home, and how overpriced Juicy Couture is, and you know, do I really need this, like really really need this?
The answers of course were: I’ll worry about it later, I don’t care and YES, for the love of God, YES I need this. And let me turn to the Lord on this one. Would God have put Juicy Couture right here if he didn’t want me to stumble upon it? Of course not!
I finally settle on the tracksuit of my dreams. This is a must-buy. I am dying to give my credit card for this beautiful piece of clothing.
Knowing Juicy Couture runs small I grab a medium top and a medium bottom. The sales gal says, “Oh no, honey, you’re not a medium.” Ooh, I like her already.
Sales Gal was getting a kick out me, thank goodness, and loved that I was having so much fun in the Juicy Couture store or maybe was just making fun of me – LOL? I’m sure I was a bit of an amusement as I stumbled around looking at every single item and running my fingers across all the fabrics with wide eyes.
She let me in the dressing room, which, too, was amazzze. As I tried on the tracksuit I discovered she was right. It was too big. Now there’s a problem to have, right?!?
As Sales Gal went to grab me alternate sizes I look down at my skinny belly. Wow, I have gotten really skinny since I lost all the baby weight. I could still tone up a bit, my tummy is a little flabby, but still I feel a sense of pride, because it wasn’t without hard work – both working out and dieting – to lose the 33 pounds I gained. Then I look down at my panties. O-M-G. I completely forgot I am wearing my Juicy Couture THONG! It is pink and blinged out and says “Juicy” on it. Ohmigosh, dying!
Since I’ve lost my boundaries at this point, not that I have a lot of boundaries anyways since I’m slightly inappropriate at times, I’m like dying to tell Sales Gal. In fact, I, like, have to show her my thong. She will DIE. Maybe she will call Corporate Juicy and they will hire me for their next ad campaign because obvs I’m a diehard fan. Then maybe I’ll get to meet Giuliana Rancic, my future or in another lifetime BFF, as I walk the red carpet at the next awards show because I’m totally the next big thing!
Knock-knock.
OK, wow, back to reality Jen. You’re a 32-year-old suburban mom living in a Juicy dream (pun intended). I can just see the hate mail coming in now. Get my priorities straight, blah blah blah. You know what I say to that? Lighten up, Francis! I’m not going to die without:
1.) Occasionally eating a Big Mac (I last ate one as Snooki on Halloween)
and
2.) Owning a Juicy Couture tracksuit.
“Come in,” I say to Sales Gal who comes in with different sizes and colors of tracksuits as I stand there in my knickers.
My eyes widen as I remember I have to show Sales Gal my thong.
I point at my pink Juicy Couture thong and say, “Look, I told you I was the ultimate Juicy fan.”
She starts laughing, as she hands me a pair of pants to try on. “Oh my gosh, I love this! You are so sweet. You have to get a tracksuit now!”
Me with Sales Gal as I pay for my purchase! Yayy
And yes, I did buy my Juicy Couture tracksuit at the official Juicy Couture store.
So, today, on this day of thanks, I am grateful for my family and friends. And obvs for Juicy Couture! 
Someone’s Got a Case of the Mondays…
30 MarImage courtesy of Yahoo Photos
I can’t even begin to tell you all that had gone down in a 24 hour period, but because I can laugh at myself I will tell you this.
I am pregnant – and how I LOVE being pregnant – NOT – and one of the joys of pregnancy hit me on Sunday afternoon. I pooped my pants.
Seriously. I’m not shitting you – LOL – I pooped my pants. WTF you ask? Well, I went downtown for brunch with my bestie. After brunch we went back to her place and talked in her sitting room for about 30 minutes before I decided to head back to the ‘burbs. I had to go to the bathroom, but her boyfriend was upstairs sick and lying on the couch. I figured I could hold it the 30 minute ride home, no problem.
The ride home wasn’t too bad. I was listening to Lady Gaga and enjoying the sunshine. My window was cracked and I was texting away (naughty, I know.) I exited the highway and was nearing home. As I turned down my street it was as though it hit me like a ton of bricks. ‘Shit, I need to shit. Shit, I need to shit NOW,’ I think.
I put my car in park and ran in the house. Thank God my husband, who had left the house, left the back door unlocked. I raced in the door and my dog was under my feet. I was yelling “Dexter, MOVE!” I’m trying to set my coffee down, my purse, my keys…I’m running towards the bathroom. And then it happened.
O-M-G.
Honestly, it was so unbelievable and so funny that I wasn’t even upset about it. In fact, I texted those that I’m close to and said, “OMG, I just pooped my pants! I’m not shitting you, LOL.” I laughed.
I would think that would be my FML (f*ck my life) for the next year….but then I woke up Monday morning. After a restless night of sleep the alarm went off. I felt like I slept a total of 1 hour the entire night. I was exhausted.
I got up and still half-asleep managed to take a shower and get ready for work. I decided to throw on the jeans that I wore the night before. (Don’t worry, I wore different jeans Sunday night then the jeans I pooped in.)
Driving to work all that was on my brain was COFFEE NOW. I pulled into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot. I get out of the car to walk inside. There sits my stalker. Side note – let’s discuss my stalker. I have a stalker at Dunkin Donuts who loves to talk to me about my perfume, my black “hooker” boots, my love of the Cubs, and whatever else he can get me to talk about with him in the 4 minute trip to get my morning java.
He seems like a nice enough guy, albeit strange. He once told me that he makes his own coffee at home to save money. WTF? And then you still come to the DD parking lot to sit around? Strange. But, I decided to have him checked out by a cop friend and he came up clean so I just say hello and keep our conversations to a minimum.
So back to the story, I am walking inside DD on this breezy Monday morning. My stalker jumps out of his car and says, “Starting Monday off right, huh?”
I think, ‘If only you knew, Mr. Stalker, what the last 24 hours of my life have entailed. If only….’ But I really smile and say, “Uh-huh,” while I walk in.
I’ve gotta be honest, I was sort of feeling like “the shit” despite my exhaustion that morning. I was sort of feeling like a “hot mess.” I was wearing my tight trendy prego jeans and a cute black maternity top. The maternity top was quite low and when I walked even I was intrigued by my bouncing bosom.
A man and a woman pull up in a Lexus and both give me an odd look. I think to myself, ‘Daaammnnn, I look so good today that this couple is checking me out!’
Yeah – It gets better.
I get my coffee and am walking back to my car. As I walk I look down. I see a pair of black … panties? WTF, is that a black thong in the parking lot? I continue to approach it and see a white tag that says DKNY.
HOLY F*CKING SH*T BALLS, that is my f*cking thong! WHAT THE F*CK!?!?!
On Sunday – after the pants pooping – I showered and dug in my under garments drawer for a pair of panties I hadn’t worn in some time. My hand pulled out the black DKNY thong. ‘Holy sh*t,’ I thought, ‘When was the last time I wore this? I haven’t seen these in forever.’
I was super excited putting them on. My DKNY thong. What a purchase. I remember the day I bought those at Von Maur. But, let’s not get off on a tangent.
As I step over my thong – far too embarrassed to pick it up – I get in the car and grieve for my DKNYs. ‘This is a sad day,’ I think. ‘How could this happen?’
It starts to come full circle. The night before, I came home, ripped my pants off and tossed them on the dining room table. (Again, I can’t get off on another tangent, but my house in under construction and currently my closet = the dining room.)
This morning – when I’m half asleep and dressing – apparently I never pulled the thong out of the pants? Apparently I never felt the thong in my pants? Apparently I never felt the thong fall out of my pants. Truly mortified I sit in the car in disbelief.
I shout out loud, “Is my f*cking life a joke to you, God?”
He doesn’t answer. I probably shouldn’t have said f*ck. Well, so be it. Good-bye DKNYs.
Fast forward to today. I’m pulling into the DD parking lot and am certain that my stalker stole my panties to display on his probable shrine of me in his station wagon. But wait – NO – the DKNYs are there! They lay in the same spot. I contemplate this for a moment. Do I be a pussy and leave this $20 pair of underwear or do I pick them up?
I place my car in park near where the DKNYs sit. I get out of the car, deep in thought. What to do…what to do. As I step out of DD, something comes over me. I decide I’m taking my life back. I’m picking up the DKNYs. I’m just gonna do it!
With my Couch purse on my shoulder and my head held high I walk over to the thong. I look at my stalker who sits in his station wagon watching me. ‘F*ck it,’ I think, ‘I want my f*cking panties back!’
With a shit eating grin I smile and bend over. I pick up the thong and try to stick it in my pocket. Yeah, well, I f*ck that up to. My stupid pocket is buttoned close. I continue to smile and open the door of my Mercedes Benz and sit inside. I feel an overwhelming rush of true happiness. I did it! Holy sh*t, I did it! I picked up my thong underwear!
I put my car in drive, wave at my stalker and pull out of the DD parking lot – while I scream.
Go Ahead and Comment!