New Jersey is breathtaking, Uncategorized

New Jersey. Fuhgeddaboudit!

I got your greetings right here. Oh! Fuhgeddaboudit.

I’m from the land of opportunity, where the streets are paved in gold[en tanning lotion] and the hills run with honey [-colored highlights].

Where, when driving 35 miles east to work, I pass not one, not two, but three shopping malls. Fuhgeddaboudit.

Where, most importantly, it’s not considered at all rude to shout, “Get the hell oudda here!”

That’s right. These are my brethren bubbies:

I am likely no more than 3 degrees of separation from all of these people.

Being from “The Garden State” can be confusing. People fly into Newark Airport and, if not distracted by the acrid smell of industry’s finest power plants, come to realize there isn’t a flower or turnip in sight*. Fuhgeddaboudit.

If they ask for a hoagie or a pop, they may be met with, “Oh! Speak English!” We identify most with our ‘exit’ – the number of the Garden State Parkway exit you take to get to our hometown, whatever that might be (135 in the house, yo!). New York City is simply “The City” (if appropriate, a borough is specified), and getting the world’s best pizza and bagels from any seedy-looking strip mall is not so much appreciated as it is expected. Fuhgeddaboudit. You might have noticed my liberal use of “Fuhgeddaboudit” throughout this post. That’s another confusing thing about New Jersey. Not only can you get away with saying this (in joking fashion or with all the sincerity of a mother chipmunk tending to her teeny, tiny baby chipmunks), you can use it in a number of conflicting ways: You need a ride to the train station because you’re getting your Mazda tramp stamped? Fuhgeddaboudit! Your mother-in-law told your hairdresser to tone down your pouf? Fuhgeddaboudit! You tried those calzones at Vinny’s? Fuhgeddaboudit! As you can see, it means both “Of course! Don’t think twice!” and “Aw hell no!” Most commonly, though, as Urban Dictionary so eloquently states, it means: “The subject is unequivocally excellent; further thought and analysis are unnecessary.” …My head hurts. Does anyone want to do shots? What do you love/hate about your motherland? *Let us remember, though, I have a barn. Jersey has so much to offer**. **FuhgeddabouditPhoto Credits:#1 (postcard) – edisonnewjerseyhomes.com#2 (Jersey Shore cast) – jerseyshoreshow.org#3 (t-shirt) – raggedshirts.com

Uncategorized

Oh No. I Have Crazy Eyes.

He wants to eat your babies.

My first “real” job was at a small, independent bookstore in northern New Jersey, and one Saturday during a book signing, the author said to [17-year-old] me,

“You have really huge pupils.”

It came as a surprise to me then, but…

He was right.

I look(ed) like a stuffed animal.

I thought my contact lenses might bring out the deep, mysterious, ocean gray-blue hue, but the contacts were no match for my super-shy irises.

Many years later, it dawned on me that he took my abnormally large pupils and lunch of Ben and Jerry’s to mean I was high on The Weed. Little did he know, when I was 17, I thought being high meant standing on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, trying to relive the final moments of Sleepless in Seattle.

When I got Lasik eye surgery at 24, I had to undergo some tests first.

“You have especially large pupils,” the doctor stated matter-of-factly.

“I get that a lot,” I grumbled in reply.

After the surgery, I started having more trouble with night driving. The eye doctor suggested I use drops that would make my pupils smaller, thus reducing the amount of light getting in. I ignored him in favor of staying home at night, planted on the couch watching The Office.

Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me. I mean from a vanity perspective. Physically, I’m fine.

But then I started this blog.

Oh, yeah, sure. Like I need to tell you I’m the one on the right.

“Crazy Eyes” is a nickname my husband and I have given to certain individuals over the years. And by certain individuals I mean people you wouldn’t trust with your dry cleaning. “Crazy Eyes” are the WORST. “Crazy Eyes” shout things about what you and female genitalia have in common. “Crazy Eyes” wax poetic about their dog French kissing them. “Crazy Eyes” make you wish you were never born.

And now look at me.

I can see your soul.

Do you know anyone with “Crazy Eyes”? What makes you them crazy? (Bonus points if you can tell me what any of this has to do with guilty pleasures.)

Photo credit (Rick Scott): http://eyeonmiami.blogspot.com

Animals, Just For Fun, Lists, Uncategorized

Why You Should Be My (Guilty Pleasure) Valentine

Oh my god. I love peanuts TOO!!!

I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me until yesterday morning to blog on Valentine’s Day.

What’s more of a guilty pleasure than an over-hyped, commercialized, pink-frosted holiday?!

C’mon.

Chocolate.

Flowers.

Stuffed animals (dressed as other animals).

Love.

Duh!

So, will you be my (guilty pleasure) Valentine?

Hmm. You’re not convinced. Tell you what. If you don’t feel like the ooey, gooey, warm and fuzzy Sir Schmoopie Bear of Snuggleton to my Madame Chocolate Bon-Bon of Cuddlesworth by the time you’re through reading this post, I will eat my weight in candy hearts (and everyone knows candy hearts blow).

Why You Should Be My (Guilty Pleasure) Valentine

1.) I made you this someecard:

2.) Uncle Jesse says so.

3.) I bake things…

...from scratch.

4.) Upon request, I will gladly summarize the “Breaking Dawn: Part 1” special features for you. With drawings.

Here’s a sneak peek:

It rained a lot.

5.) This video:

And finally…

6.) Because I love you almost as much as I love my husband my second husband myself.

So, what do you say? Still no?! What the deuce is your real Valentine doing that’s better than that kitten video? I love you a nine!

Photo Credits

#1 (chipmunks) – http://sodahead.com

#2 (cats) – http://roflmouse.com

#3 (candy heart) – made at http://acme.com/heartmaker/

(All other photos are mine! Just like you want to be! Admit it!)

Just For Fun, Lists, Uncategorized, Uncle Jesse

Guiltiest Pleasures of 2012 (So Far)

It’s only February, and already I’m bursting at the seams with guilty pleasures, some new, some old. I can’t contain it any longer, so I’m just going to spew them out all over this post. I mean, delicately list them on this delightful blog with the most fetching of phrases.

#1 – Reflective Gear: Lead Me to the Light!

Yeah. It’s my new thing. Of course, there’s the obvious:

GoGuiltyPleasures slap bracelets are finding happy homes all across the WORLD!

And then the not so obvious (thanks, Babs!):

Because loving Glee and side ponies didn't make me cool enough. Now I can walk Uncle Jesse after work in true style.

#2 – Uncle Jesse‘s Famous Head Tilt: He’s All Bark, No Bite!

This one really needs no introduction. (Advance apologies for my ‘puppy voice.’) And yes, the whole family loves The Office.

#3 – Mac Photo Booth Application: So Wrong, It’s Right!

I am truly ashamed of the level of vanity my Mac Photo Booth application inspires (yes, these pictures are all linked to actual blog posts of mine…sigh).

It makes me want to show off my waterproof mascara...
...And let's not forget my very first romance novel cover...
...I've toasted to myself...
...And I've shamelessly embraced being a bottled blonde.

#4 – Real Haircuts: Why, I Just Might.

My vanity knows no bounds. After taking Uncle Jesse for a routine (and costly!) visit to the groomer’s last week, I decided that the time had come to stop cutting and dying my own hair. Hallelujah!

Why should he be the only one who looks touchably soft?
BEFORE.
AFTER.

Oh crud. Is it still long enough for a side pony?

#5 – Hats: Rocking Them Day and Night!

This is a vintage guilty pleasure for me, and this past weekend, I started recruiting a whole new generation.

My niece has my eye for fashion. She picked out my sunglasses. I told her they were perfect for hiding my hangover. (Kidding, Sis. ...Just...kidding...)

 What’s your guiltiest pleasure of 2012 (so far)? If you’re feeling shy: how much do you love my new haircut?

Animals, Chipmunks Forever, Just For Fun, Slap Bracelets, Uncategorized

Slap Bracelets Comeback – Part 3!

Yo yo yo flying squirrels chipmunks! I have an exceptional bundle of GoGuiltyPleasures slap bracelet pics for you today! You are VERY welcome.

If you missed the first and second installments, they too are worth your time, in my completely conceited and biased opinion. Renée from Lessons from Teachers and Twits also just incorporated her slap bracelets into this dazzling post.

Continuing on in the order in which these pictures were received, here we go!!!

#1 -Katy from k8edid

It would really, REALLY help you to know something before I post Katy’s pictures, and I’m soooo tempted to keep it to myself.

Hmmm.

Okay. I give.

Katy teaches at a nursing college, and should earn many high-falutin’ credentials after her name just for her creativity in the following pictures. Oh, and, if you don’t already know: her blog is delightful, with smatterings of (humorous) poetry and recipes! What more could a guilty pleasure blogger ask for?

I put the slap bracelet to use on my drinking utensils…

…on a mannequin…

He's no dummy; he's got the hottest accessory!

…on a poster for the nursing students (about ID bracelets)…

…on an IV…

Give the patient 1 liter of guilty pleasure IV - STAT!

… Then I took it home where Shelby modeled it (reluctantly) on her ankle and on her tail, and drooled when I put it around her favorite guilty pleasure – Milkbones…

…Finally, I slipped it on my husband’s (Sweet Cheeks) skinny little ankle and snapped a picture before he could figure out what was going on…

#2 – Deb from The Monster in Your Closet

Deb is a very special person, choosing to focus on positivity and gratitude even in the darkest moments. She manages to make everyone feel divine with each heart-warming comment and every beautifully moving post. She is an accomplished writer (check out “The Monster’s Daughter“!) and a Buffy fan. What more do you need to know?

Oh, speaking of Buffy, she totally kicked chipmunk tail in my first video blogging contest with a hilarious video about Buffy, earning this super-duper homemade prize. (I have to mention that post every chance I get because I love it, and Deb, so much.)

Deb’s been keeping me up-to-date on all of the slap bracelet goings-on in her home, which center around her adorable toddler, Li’l D. Just look:

Guilty Pleasure Power - ACTIVATE!!!

While Li’l D was flexing his muscles, someone else was snuggling his My Little Pony…

Sometimes...there are no words.

#3 – Sandy from Sandy the Social Butterfly

I heard from Sandy for the first time about a month ago, requesting a slap bracelet. She said she’d stumbled across my blog, and I like to think it was via one of the following search engine terms (yes, these are real search terms that led people to my blog):

  • chipmunk sexy humor
  • farting for pleasure
  • diet with pop tarts
  • strippers covered in ketchup
  • how do i shape my eye brows like ryan philippe

I’ve been having lots of fun reading Sandy’s blog, because she shares personal anecdotes that are as endearing as they are amusing. She is also the first person I know who actually does those INSANITY and P90X work-out videos. So be nice to her;  she may be made entirely of muscle and the forgotten dreams of [P90X’s] Tony Horton, who clearly was never held as a child.

My, the pink against pristine white really raises the bar, Winston.
Just when I thought it couldn't get more stunning than Winston!

#4 – Cappy from Writer’s Block

I found Cappy a while back through one of my favorite bloggers, Girl on the Contrary. There’s definitely a common theme between these two gorgeous gals, and that theme is hilarity. She’s the perfect blend of silly and sarcastic. Every post of Cappy’s makes me burst out laughing, and I’m SO excited that she’s come over to the dark light side.

It's Kung Fu Pooh and Drunken Piglet! ...That sounds like a Chinese food dish I kind of want to try.

Thank you Katy, Deb, Sandy and Cappy! Consider yourselves cordially invited to the Chipmunk Ball. 

You STILL don’t have a slap bracelet to call your own? Stop your tears -and mine- by emailing me at JKSchnedeker@yahoo.com!

Just For Fun, TV Junkie

GoGuiltyPleasures Gets Slushied: Behind the Scenes!

Post-slushie. ...I think pink highlights could work for me.

Chipmunks, I know you’ve just been dying to hear more about my Glee slushie experience after watching the presentation in my last post, Why Glee Makes My Soul Sing.

And what kind of guilty pleasure blogger would I be if I didn’t indulge your every whim?

Before I give you the uncut version of my first ever slushie-in-the-face extravaganza, though, there are a few things you should I want you to know:

  • Peppermeister (my husband) normally requires at least 7 day’s notice before making ANY plans on the weekend (this includes plans as small as hanging one picture or a trip to Wal-Mart [true story]). When I asked -with only a few minute’s notice- if he’d be willing to throw a frozen beverage in my gourd this past Sunday, he dropped everything
  • That (Target) sweater already had an oops-red-sock-in-the-wash stain on the back and was headed for the bin
  • We were outside. In January. In New Jersey (translation = cold!)
  • You might be able to hear Uncle Jesse (our dog) whining from inside the house, because he can handle anything except alienation
  • We didn’t have a Big Gulp Slurpee (from 7-Eleven) like they use in Glee, so we substituted with a souvenir Medieval Times cup and a homemade slushie made from ice, water, cranberry juice and red food coloring

So. Would you? Slushie in the face? Why or why not?

I'm Going To Chop My Ear Off Any Day Now, Music, TV Junkie

Why Glee Makes My Soul Sing: A Point/Counterpoint Post

Chipmunks, your Monday is about to get a WHOLE lot brighter. I made another Glee-related presentation for you me! Wait ’til you see the lengths to which I’m willing to go just to prove a point. This is epic. I actually had to change clothes during the making of this video.

And it wasn’t even my idea this time! My B.F.F., Byronic Man, approached me a few weeks ago with an enticing proposition (…that’s what she said) – to do a point/counterpoint post. On the same day, we’d both blog about why we love (in my case) or hate (in his case) FOX’s Glee.

I know with my guilty pleasure zeal and project management skill set, it’s kind of unfair to go head-to-head with someone about a show like Glee. On the other hand, Byronic Man IS one of the funniest writers I know. So, if you want to hear what Byronic Man has to say about Glee, head over to his blog

…BUT FIRST…

 There’s no way you won’t agree with me after seeing THIS (I recommend watching in full screen)!

Why do you love/hate Glee? Don’t forget, the much-anticipated [by me] Michael Jackson episode airs tomorrow night (Jan 31st) on FOX (8pm EST)!

Marriage

Do You Want to Know My Secret?

No, no, not the secret to my flawless skin*, the secret to figuring out HOW TO KNOW (S)HE’S ‘THE ONE.’

If you can't think of anything nice to say... you probably don't want to rate this picture over at http://ratemyink.com

Yessss. Can you believe I’m dishing the truth?

Not here, of course. My life coaches, Zest and Zeal, have advised me to only blog about true love (Second Husband excluded) two times a year.

This week I snatched up an opportunity to divulge this juicy answer over on Tinkerbelle’s delightful blog, Laughter is Catching: The (Easy) Answer to Everything You’ve Ever Wanted to Know About Love.

I’ll keep this post short so you can head over to my guest post and show the Laughter is Catching crowd how much you adore me, with promises of more slap bracelet pics to come soon!

*MAC primer, MAC liquid foundation, Maybelline pressed powder, and a deal with the devil.

Music, Uncategorized

Getting Carded is Music to My Ears (…so is Charlene Kaye)

Chatterbox Chipmunks, I’ve been lied to. There’s no way I’m turning 30 in April. I can’t remember much from those early years, so for all I know, life began in 1986 and not 1982 like my birth certificate would lead you to believe.

That’s right. I’m not a day over 25.

My taste in accessories (slap bracelets) and hair styles (side ponies) suggests not a nostalgic fondness for the styles of my youth, but rather a hipster-esque desire to embrace ‘vintage’ trends.

I’m the baby of the family.

Of my friends.

I’m the young one!!

Me!!!

Er, meet my new friend, 21-year-old Christie:

Remember Christie? We met two weeks ago cavorting outside the “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” stage door, exactly the way smart, funny, adorable girls in their early twenties meet.

Christie is as sweet as a teeny, tiny baby chipmunk and attends a crazy-good school to study architecture.  We met up this past Thursday in lower Manhattan to see my fellow 25(ish)-year-old, Charlene Kaye, perform at the Rockwood Music Hall.

I wore a $4 white thermal shirt from Old Navy. You know, ’cause us young kids just don’t give a shiz*. The guy who carded me even said I was “a baby.” Now, I won’t be greedy. I’ll settle for 25.

That was the highlight of the night.

Kidding!

Kinda.

Charlene Kaye was brilliant, and managed to fill the venue, despite playing a 7pm set on a Thursday night. She performed for a mere 45 minutes, which is my only complaint. Charlene’s voice is pure and unique – both haunting and comforting. She can incorporate hip-hop beats into her music just as easily as power ballad piano riffs.

I'm a terrible photographer, but I think you can still see that Charlene is the cat's pajamas.

We said hello to Charlene after her set (there were high-fives exchanged…they have become cool and hip, so naturally I was included), and she asked if she’d see us again. Sure, Charlene, we’ll be at your CD release party in March – if I’ve finished my term paper I’m not too tired after work to make the commute.

Here’s a taste of my favorite song of Charlene’s, the title track of her soon-to-debut album, Animal Love:

*Until said young kid arrives home and realizes her tanning lotion has rubbed off on the sleeves.

What age do you want to relive so badly it makes you cry into your orange-stained sleeves?

Chipmunks Forever

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??