Alternate title: I Wasted My Money On This Crap So You Don’t Have To.

Due to the sucky-ness that has been the month of April, I decided to present to you with three things I could have done without, I didn’t care of and that down right sucked.  

1) Recently I ran out of my favorite mascara so I hightailed it to Target to replenish my supply. Only to find, to my great horror, they no longer carry it!
So instead I got what I thought would be a comparable second since Loreal makes this one as well.  Not to mention it claimed to lengthen my little lashes to 80% of their normal length. WHOA!  Sign me up!  

Little did I know, it isn’t really Loreal who makes this product.  It’s the Devil.  Yes folks, Satan himself is now getting into cosmetics.

Behold!  The hell that is this mascara (pun intended):

I’m fairly certain it’s no coincidence that it’s packaging is RED!  For once I applied Lucifer’s black goo upon my innocent eyelashes almost immdediately my eyes started to sting. 

“Hmm,” I thought, “perhaps I got a little in my eye.  No worries.  I’ll continue.” 

As I foolishly went forth, the mascara not only smudged all over my eyelid but due to the inferno going on in my eye ball, they were so watery I could barely see.  The last time this much water came out of my eyes was during a recent episode of Grey’s.  Because I’m an idiot who thought this would pass and that somehow after 23 years of applying mascara I had forgotten the process, this pain was all my fault.  Finally somewhere around mid-day I was able to see again. 

Later on that night, barely getting through the day with my near blind status, I went to wash my face.  I should have known the evilness that is this make-up wouldn’t give up that easy.  It refused to come off! Instead of leaving my lashes like any other sane mascara, this crap came off in clumps, which were close to the consistency of rubber.  I checked the Tube From Hell to make sure I didn’t mistakenly get waterproof and nope, that’s just the gem that is called “Double Extend”.  

Let’s recap shall we?  It burns the eyes, smudges to the eyebrow and back and then to add insult to injury, won’t come off.   So unless you are auditioning for a a lead role as a tearful Tammy Faye Baker, I suggest staying far far away from this wonder.

2) For my birthday, Aveda sent me a postcard announcing that I could come in, pick out my favorite scent and have it added to either have a shampoo, lotion or small spray.  What girl doesn’t love a free gift? (ok so this doesn’t fall into the “wasting my money” catagory) So with all the hope and joy of a puppy I bounded into Aveda and was eager to get some lotion since I was also out of that. (clearly I need to work on this “running out of stuff” stint I’m on.)  I smelled many a different scent and finally settled on one that was very nice. 

The next morning I was excited to use my new lovely scented lotion.

I put the normal amount in my hand and proceed to rub it on my skin.  And I rubbed.  And I rubbed.  And I rubbed.  Twenty minutes of rubbing with now sore arms and very late for work, I gave up.  WHY WOULDN’T THIS SINK INTO MY SKIN?!?!  Last I checked I wasn’t made of some synthetic material.   I decided to just get dressed and let the lotion work it’s way into my skin on it’s own.  

Fast forward a couple hours…  I’m sitting at my desk at work and scratch my arm.  And then scratch it again.  Huh.  Wow, this really itches.  Ow, now it burns.  I pull up my sleeve to find my whole arm is broken out in hives.  For fun I rolled up my other sleeve to find that arm too was covered in nice red welts.  I have been known to have sensitive skin but I have never broken out from a lotion.  Especially one that I didn’t buy from a flee market in Tijuana. 

Now I’m all about a free gift, but I rather it doesn’t take an hour to apply and subsequently give me hives.   Clearly, not a fan.  But nice try Aveda.

3) You all know by now I love to read.  Obsessively so.  One of my guilty pleasures is reading the memoirs of the rich and famous.  Were you a celebrity? Were you found walking the streets of Hollywood in just your bra?  Did you sleep with your cousin while putting your entire paycheck up your nose?  PLEASE TELL ME YOU WROTE A BOOK!  

Granted more times than not, these books are not well written.  That’s fine.  I get that.  You’re a celebrity… you can’t be expected to be able to write too. But surprisingly some are actually very entertaining and almost good.  Goldie Hawn’s book?  Good!  Tatum O’Neal’s memoir?  Very interesting.  Sadly even Tori Spelling’s ridiculousness seemed like Chaucer compared to this complete nightmare of a book.

Carrie Fisher.  Carrie FISHER!  What happened to you, Honey?  You were Princess Leia for Christ sake!  You wrote Postcards from The Edge.  You have talent!  So what the hell was this?  I realize you had electric shock therapy recently but not even THAT is a good excuse for this thing called a book.   Ben could have written something infinitely better.  And not even a piece that was plagiarized.  

I should really sue Fisher for Botox injections since the entire time I read this book my eyebrows were furrowed in a “WHAT THE F***IS THIS!” expression.  Seriously, on one page I counted, 6 out of the 7 paragraphs started with “Anyway”.  The other one?  That started with “Well.” 

The book made no sense.  There was no rhyme or reason to it.  The chapters didn’t flow in regard to subject, timeline, nothing!  I did read the whole thing because not only was it like watching a train wreck, I had a glimmer of hope that Carrie would finally say, ”JUST KIDDING!” and it would end really well.   She is a comedian after all.  Sadly, that never happened. 
I searched every page hoping to find the whack job that edited this catastrophe, only to find nothing.  I don’t know how this even got published other than perhaps Princess Leia used The Force.  Although this ended up on the Dark Side.  Help her Obi Wan, you’re her only hope!

*****
So there you have it, Internet.  Don’t say I never did anything for ya.  Let my misfortunes be your guidance.  Oh and for the record, I checked out “Wishful Drinking” (GAH!) from the library so techincally I only wasted money on the mascara.  But isn’t my time worth MORE than money? 
Yeah, don’t answer that.

Wordless Wednesday

Me: Hey, Mom did you see my blog today?  Amazing poem by Ben huh?

Mom: He didn’t write that. You did.

Me: What?  No I didn’t!  He did!  I swear!  He brought it home from school.  I just copied it into my blog.  Didn’t you see the picture?

Mom: Well sure but I thought he just drew that and that you wrote the poem.  It was way too good for an 8 year old.  No one thinks he wrote it.  Amy doesn’t.  You can tell from her comment.

Me: Well he did!  He’s just that good.  I’ll have to post an update tonight making sure everyone knows he really wrote it.

Later, on the way home from Little League practice…

Me: Ben, you have to tell Grandma that you wrote that poem!  She doesn’t believe me that you actually wrote it.

Ben: That’s because I didn’t.

Me: WHAT?!  I saw it!  In your own handwriting and, AND you said you did!

Ben:  No, I said everyone in the class had to write a poem but we all copied them from REAL poems.

Me: Oh. My. God.  But I blogged about this.  Ugh… I guess I have to post a different sort of ‘update’ tonight.

******

So Internet, this is my official retraction.  My son, Benjamin Mikkimoto did NOT write the cute little poem below.  He’s good but I guess, not THAT good. 

The REAL author is a wonderful man (actually I don’t know if he’s wonderful but since we just plagiarized his work, I vote, he’s a great guy) named Jack Prelutsky and this cute poem is in his book “Something Big Has Been Here.”   Hey, the good news is, you can finally read the rest of the poem….

I also swear the picture is really Ben’s.  I promise I didn’t mug a third grader walking out of the school to steal a piece of his artwork and claim it as my kid’s.

“Hey Ben, I’m so not in the mood to write.  Want to be my guest blogger today?”
“Sure Mom.  I have just the thing…”

I’m Off To Catch A Bumblebee

I’m off to catch a bumblebee, so bumblebees beware!
I’ve brought the best equipment with accessories to spare.

A bottle full of buttons and a carton full of corks,
assorted socks and saucers and a group of broken forks.

I’m off to catch a bumblebee, I’ll surely find one soon.
I’ve got a pound of pepper and a helium balloon.

My trusty feather duster and eleven bars of soap,
a pair of Pop-Up toasters and a leaky periscope.

I have brought my beach umbrella, I have my hula-hoop,
my yo-yo and a bowl of chicken soup,

a lariat that’s large enough…

(and that’s how the poem ends.  Very dramatic huh?  I wanted him to finish it but he wouldn’t budge.  Shame on me for forcing a fellow writer to do something he doesn’t feel…)

I am in step three of the sun salutation drying my hair when I feel a “beat beat beat” on my head. I look up enough to see two skinny legs and make out a giggle over the roar of the hairdryer.

As I raise up I get a hug from the cutest eight year old on the planet. However endearing this is, I’m still trying to get my hair dry. The hugger is relentless. So I turn the dryer on him which creates hysterical laughter and lots of wiggling.
I figure the only way to get some peace is to give him a job.

“Ben, pick out a shirt for me to wear today.”
Did I just ask if he wanted a puppy? I’m pretty sure I didn’t but the enthusiasm is similar.

During the lengthy and thoughtful search, my arduous beauty task is finally accomplished.

“Here! This one is pretty Mommy.”
He does well.
“Good one, Ben! Thanks!”
He goes into the other closet. “And here! Wear this underneath.”
This time he doesn’t do as well.
“Um, I think I have another shirt that is better… but thanks…”
I’m not even finished with my sentence when something else grabs his attention and he and my sweater flee the room.

“Ben! I need my shirt!”
He comes flying back into the room and I swear his feet never touch the ground.  How does he do that?

“Let me help you put it on.”
“Oh, I got it buddy. Strangely enough I have been dressing myself for years.”

I get another hug and an affirmation that I look pretty.

With the eager spring sun shinning through the bedroom window and a morning that starts like this, I know it will be a good day.

Wordless Wednesday
(happy earth day!)

Hello out there!  Can you read me?  Can you see this?!?  HELLO!?

If you don’t have Firefox, you most likely can read this.  Unless English isn’t your first language and you got to this site accidently by Googling “Mikimoto Pearls” in which case I’m sorry.  Or rather, lo siento, “?????” and Förlåt mig.

My mother was first to alert me that something was amiss on Saturday when she said my blog went all “gefilted” (which is a Yiddish word meaning MESSED UP!)  I assumed she was just meshugana herself when I went to her computer and could bring up www.talesofmikkimoto.com with no problem.  

However, since then I have heard from two other friends that when they come to my blog there is just “a bunch of headings, no narrative anymore.”  I mean I know this blog is often pure nonsense but I hope there is SOME narrative.

The common denominator seems to be Firefox. 

So long rambling story short, and with way too many different languages, are any other bloggers out there having this issue? 

Or is this just WordPress’s subtle way of telling Princess Mikkimoto that her time in this cyber-world is up and to suck it?

This year for Spring Break, my folks and I decided to take Ben to the Kalahari Desert in Africa.

Really!  We did!

See?  There were wild animals EVERYWHERE! 

Please don’t try to get this close to untamed elephants and zebras on your own.  I’m a professional.

And look!  Ben was brave enough to not only SIT next to these crocodiles but he even put his HAND in one of their mouths!  The next Steve Irwin?  I think so.

These feral animals that were woken up too early…

scared us so bad we had to flee by motorcycle.

Wait a minute!  What’s going on here?

What sort of motorcycles do they have in the Kalahari Desert?!  That looks more like an arcade!

OK OK you busted me.  We didn’t really go to Africa but we DID go to the Kalahari.  Just to this one…

in the Wisconsin Dells.

We took advantage of the fact that my company not only gives it’s employees an awesome rate to this resort but happily Ben is still at the age where going to a water park with his mom and grandparents is super cool and not yet deserving of an earth moving eye roll.  My mom and I know this isn’t going to last too much longer so we made hay while the sun is still a shinin’. 

It was a great time frolicing in the water here:

(don’t even try to find a picture of me in that scene.  P.M. in her swimsuit is WAY scarier than any wild animal!)

Mom and I stealing away to the spa for pedicures… (Sorry, there are no pictures of that event since I was laughing too hard at my mom being attacked by her massage chair that I was rendered useless with my camera.)

and of course some downtime in the room. 

Because seriously, if four people can’t travel for one night with two laptops, well don’t even THINK of asking me to come along on such a savage trip.

On the way home, Ben made us all list in order what our favorite part of the trip was.  Oddly enough no one said my crazy chlorine-induced-wild-animal-like snoring that kept them up all night. 

Next time, if we are lucky enough to get the kid to travel with all these old fogies, we’re SO getting two rooms!

Amy: OMG!  Blogher09 is already sold out!!! What do we do???

Me: WHAT? I didn’t even know you had to get tickets?  WAAA!  I suppose I should take that banner off my blog. 

Amy:  I put us on the wait-list for BlogHer just IN CASE we get the opportunity to buy tickets… Sigh…  Otherwise, we’ll have our own BlogHer!

Me:  Good idea.  In the meantime wanna come out here two years in a row?  You crazy kids coming for a week again?

Amy: Yes! We’re coming for another week! Is that okay? Seriously, Samuel was way too excited when I mentioned that maybe we’ll go back to Madison this summer and I think it’s so cute that he and Ben are so close. Also, it’s cute that we’re so close, too.

Me: Great!  So fun!!  Seriously Amy, my apartment is TWICE the size of my previous place and when you are downstairs you can’t even hear upstairs so it will be so much better for all of us. 

Amy: Does that mean all the girlie’s can’t sleep in one bed together???

Me: Yes!  That is JUST what it means!  Me and ONE OTHER PERSON in that bed.  NOT THREE!  You got it Cousin Sister of mine!?  Hell, N and I will sleep together.  Ben and I.  Samuel and I.  Tali and I.  YOU and I.  The mailman and I.  Are you seeing a pattern here? 

Amy: Um, I don’t get it…  You don’t want the coziness of four of us in one bed?

Becky: “Sleeping” with giggling wiggle worms isn’t cozy.  Cute?  Yes!  Cozy and sleep inducing?  No.

Amy:  Okay, so then you should not sleep with Naomi. She likes to pat faces in order to get to sleep and we try to give her an inanimate face to pat.

I wonder how drunk I can get between now and August?

Wordless Wednesday