Daily Archives: January 19, 2012

Meet Zest and Zeal: My Life Coaches

I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you Chipmunks about my two new [guilty pleasure] life coaches, Zest and Zeal. UNTIL NOW! Boo-ya:

Meet Zest. She's obsessed with her own reflection. (So is Uncle Jesse.)

This is Zeal. He's trying to help me measure the living room for the proper-sized couch, and keeps shouting "NUTS!" every time the measuring tape snaps back on his paws.

They were a Christmas gift from Babs (Mommasita Extraordinaire), and they’re teaching me how to live in the moment and embrace each glass of champagne breath.

Before I go much further, though, I’d like to share with you a scene from this past Christmas Eve, where my father, a Princeton graduate, Doctor of Education and well-respected man about town Dancing with the Stars-watcher, suddenly shouted down the hall to me:

“WHY DO YOU LIKE CHIPMUNKS SO MUCH?”

I could tell immediately that my brother had asked him the question, though that was as much as I could glean.

“BECAUSE THEY’RE SO ADORABLE AND ELUSIVE,” I shouted back immediately. Duh.

“BECAUSE THEY’RE SO ADORABLE AND ELUSIVE,” my father repeated verbatim to my brother, who was not within my line of sight.

…I love my family.

Anyhoo. Zest and Zeal have been busy these past few weeks. Their first order of business, naturally, was to size up this ‘Second Husband‘ they kept hearing so much about:

They unanimously approved.

Their next order of business was to inspect my chocolate stash:

They weren't convinced it was sufficient until they saw the '1-pound' designation.

Then Zest and Zeal decided to take me shopping. I thought they were going to show me the Self Help section of Barnes and Noble, but they had other ideas…

They suggested I start decorating with pieces I could actually use in "day-to-day life."

Holding the massive utensils, the doubt settled in; I began to question their credibility. Not long after the Flatware Fiasco, I got home late one night and stumbled upon this scene:

How cliché.

I gave them a lecture about how I can’t afford a new ceiling fan, but just last night, I returned home to find…

Not my champagne. Anything but the champagne.

I also suspect they’re stealing slap bracelets. And here I thought you could always count on chipmunks.

What’s the worst advice you’ve ever gotten??

About these ads