Shittiest Day Ever…Literally

You ever have one of those days? You know…the kind where it doesn’t even seem like real life and if someone were to tell you what was going to go down you would never believe them?

That was today.

It started like any normal day…as they do at 9-months pregnant, with an internal at my OBGYN (which is SUPER fun) to check for any progress. From there, I had grand plans to go home, get some work done, do laundry and continue nesting.

However, I walked in to see our chihuahua in position to poop right there on my floor. I rushed him outside, with the grace of a hippo, and we made it just in time. Then when I put the little fucker down, he proceeded to puke all over the floor. Guess he traded one bodily function for another.

I texted Jason and he asked me to drop him at the vet. BTdubs, you should also know, that our other dog just came back from the vet yesterday after having ANOTHER surgery from tearing a second ACL in a month. We singlehandedly keep the vet in business and he’ll probably be able to retire 10 years earlier because of us. You’re welcome, doc.

So here I am, already deviating from my plan, and en route to the vet, when it happens. Spike (the chihuahua) pukes all over my seat…right between my legs, which are in a semi-permanent ajar position on account of my protruding belly.

I moved him over to the passenger seat and that’s when he began to shit his brains out…all over my seat…as I’m driving and simultaneously screaming. Because he wasn’t just expelling waste from his body, he was stepping in it, getting it in between every crevis of his tiny paws.

But wait, there’s more.

I put him in the backseat just praying for traffic to let up so I could get to the fucking vet and he then performs shitshow part deux ALL over the back seat, and then jumps on the center console and drops more between my seats. I’ve never seen so much poop come out of an 8lb dog.

At this point I am crying and dry-heaving. I pull over into a random office parking lot, call my husband and start speaking in tongues. I was 100% hysterical. Jason is no moron, heard my voice and left work immediately (probably because he was a little scared of my exorcist-level emotion…as he should have been at that moment).

As I waited for him, I tried to clean up with the travel-size packet of baby wipes I had in my car, gagging the whole time, and having cars pull up asking if I was ok. I’m guessing the scene of a very pregnant woman, outside her car, all doors open, with a dog on a leash and handfuls of shit-covered baby wipes, is cause for concern.

When Jason arrived, I passed that dog like a dirty fucking baton and peaced-out to the car wash. Obviously I had to drive with the windows open because of the smell, and as I was on the phone crying to my mother, what happens?? A bird, on a wire above the red light I was waiting at, took my cracked window as an open invitation to ALSO take a shit right on my headrest. I wish I was kidding. When I told my mom what was happening through my ugly crying, she was laughing so hard she could not form a coherent sentence and most definitely peed her pants.

At the carwash, I pulled up and they greeted me with the obligatory, “How’s your day?” They did not get the obligatory, “Great! How about you?” in return. What they did get was a rant about how my car was covered in dog puke and shit (did I mention my seats are perforated?) and I needed them to make it like brand new. They just stared at me…then at my belly…then at me again.

I had texted a couple friends about my current situation and one of them basically saved the day (at least for the 2+ hours my car was being detailed). Shirley came to get me so I wouldn’t have to wait.

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Friends pick you up in times of need. Good friends snap a picture of your misery.

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My spirits were IMMEDIATELY lifted just being in her presence, because she does shit like put our karaoke song on without missing a beat.

I accompanied her to the mall where she had some business to take care of, and also hoping that the walking would put me into labor. Almost from the moment we got there, I got looks from mall goers ranging from horrified to lascivious. I don’t know why there is a fear of very pregnant women in public, but there is.

In addition to the crowd ogling me like my baby was crowning, we also saw the usual onslaught of Boca’s finest carting their dogs in strollers. But today was different, because there was a woman pushing around a cat. A CAT, you guys. So naturally we had to follow her into the AT&T store for Shirley to covertly get a picture of her, because how do you not?!?

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When my husband called to check-in (read: make sure I wasn’t humming and rocking myself in a dark corner), I told him I might not come home and may either check myself into a mental ward or spa… game-time decision.

But instead, after Shirley sniff-inspected my newly washed car like McGruff the Crime Dog, I gave myself a small pat on the back ¬†for supporting a local business…

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And said “Boy Bye” to shitmageddon.

Spike is currently on car probation until I emotionally heal.

Here’s to a brand new, shit-free day, tomorrow!

The Keep It Real Moms are the Illest!

Episode two is here and it’s FULL of realness. We’re talking about everything, because we just can’t stay on one topic. We’re like PTA moms with ADHD, but cool.

This installment has unfiltered discussions about everything including “shitty” baby shower games, dating ladies, being a boss ass bitch, using the Mensch on the Bench as an enforcer, tooth fairy goals and the worst jobs we’ve ever had.

We jump around like House of Pain, because that’s just what we do.

So take a listen after you put the kiddies to bed, or even while you are laying with them as they watch another painful episode of Dora or, god forbid, Calliou. Just make sure you wear headphones ūüėČ

You can access it here on Soundcloud –¬†https://soundcloud.com/user-997167709/kirm2

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I’m Smitten With This Redhead

So there’s this gal I know and she’s kind of awesome.

I met her during my first marriage through my then husband. But I was not looking forward to the meeting to be honest. We were living in Manhattan and meeting his “sleep away camp” friend and her husband for dinner.

We lived on the UES, which may as well have been the burbs compared to her funky apartment near the meatpacking district. I already had a preconceived notion that because of said apartment, she was cooler than me and I was dreading a dinner where I would have to pretend to be interested in this couple and fake being engaged in obligatory conversation. Just put me out of my misery, I was thinking.

Then the weirdest thing happened.

We TOTALLY hit it off. I’m talking about sparks flying pretty much from the first hug hello. I can’t tell you what it was, but there was just this instant chemistry and I knew I liked her. I went from dread, to not wanting the night to end, in about 6 seconds. And just like that we developed a bond that grew into an amazing and unexpected (at least from my end…she probably thought I was awesome before she met me ) friendship.

Then when I got divorced, that thing happens where your “couple friends” pick their sides. And I’ll be honest…I thought for sure I would lose her. She was his friend first after all. But I didn’t!! She played Switzerland like a boss and maintained a real friendship with me. It’s not easy and I don’t know how the eff she did it, but I think that’s when this fiery redhead with major moxie stole my heart.

She also happens to give the most sound and insightful advice I think I’ve ever received. It’s equal parts supportive and realistic, never sugar coated and always authentic. So it makes sense that she (a lawyer by trade) chased her dream and a vision to become the most incredible entrepreneur, coaching women to create work/life synergy and fulfill THEIR dreams.

Stacy Boegem, my dear friend, was born to do just this.

When she launched her business, I wanted to help wherever I could (partly to support her and partly to physically see her do her thing because as I’ve always said about her…when she talks, you listen…to every damn word.) I videotaped her first event at a small kid’s playspace in boca, wrote some media pitches for her, and last year registered people at her CRA Live (Connect Relate Activate) event and then watched in awe as she took the stage. She’s so smart, charming, magnetic and knows how to command the shit out of a room.

And while this post may sound like a Stacy Boegem lovefest (ok it is a little), it’s so much more. But I feel so strongly about giving you the context of our backstory instead of just passing you a link to an event and telling you to check it out. Because in addition to a wonderful friendship, I don’t even know if she knows how much she has helped me professionally, and that it all came to a head at last year’s CRA Live. I have never really sat down and discussed it with her. So she’s kind of hearing this for the first time like you.

(If this were a movie, there’d be some wavy lines and trippy music designating a flashback moment…in 3, 2, 1.)

Last year, I sat at the  CRA registration table handing out name tags and checking people in, and when the room was full (and it was), I took a seat with other attendees at the table. In the interest of full disclosure, I was not intending on learning anything that day. Yes I was miserable at my job and yes I had been blogging for a while. But I had no “career” path in sight, so a transition just wasn’t top of mind for me. I knew I wanted to leave my job at some point but it felt soooooo far away, like a pipe dream.

I listened to Stacy. I listened to her other speakers. I watched other women furiously scribble notes and excused myself from most of those exercises because I just didn’t think it applied to me. I was there to help not really participate.

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But then, I wrote something down.

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Right then and there, I decided I needed business cards (because in my head, that’s one of the things that make you an “official” business. And I also came up with my own kitschy title.) It may not mean much to others, but it was a moment for me.

Then came a point where we were asked to write a letter to ourselves in the future talking about where we thought we’d be. Here’s mine dated January 2018.

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Guys, it’s barely 2016 and I have literally checked off every single item on that list. Every. Single. One. Yes, some are ongoing, but seriously, I mobilized like a mofo after this event. Consider me “Activated”!

Was I scared? Yes. Shitless.

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Because let’s be real. Hopes and dreams do not pay the mortgage. And I like my house and living in it.

 

The day after CRA, I hired someone to design a logo and ordered business cards. And from there it just snowballed. I started collaborating with people, submitting guest articles to really big sites, growing my social media presence and putting myself out there.

All while working at a job I hated that was slowly sucking my soul out of my body, praying for justification to leave.

One day, after a harrowing experience at work, filled with all sorts of public humiliation, I lost it. I came home sobbing. Snotty, ugly crying. I was inconsolable. Lost. At the end of my rope.

I called Stacy and told her I couldn’t take it and I was quitting the next day. She basically told me she understood where I was coming from but under no circumstances should I quit. I had no business built yet, and while she had no questions about my desire and ability to succeed on my own, it just wasn’t time. She asked me questions I didn’t even have answers to, and that’s when I realized she was right.

So, I listened to her. I spent the next several months busting my ass after full days of  work, to build my own little “side business”. I would come home and put feelers out to people I had already been doing some freelance writing for. After some old school hustling, I had 3 paying clients. I was burning the candle at both ends just waiting to be “ready”to pull the cord and become a full-time writer. Those clients sent me other clients and before I knew it…it was time.

I took the leap.

I now run my own one-woman shop. I get to write everyday for clients who are appreciative and productive. And, I also get to focus on my own blog and writing as well. It’s a win win and the fire was totally lit under my ass at CRA Live 2015.

So, naturally, I am going back to CRA Live 2016 for seconds, to support my friend (and this time purposely learn even more so I can do some next level shit). And here’s the best part…you too can go, and even get a discount if you use the code WHINE during registration.

So, join us at CRA Live 2016!!! (It’s in Fort Lauderdale on April 7th and 8th).

Registration closes 3/23 so get on it and register here:  www.CRALiveEvent.com

And don’t forget to use the code WHINE for 20% off. (I’m hooking you up like cable)

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You may not know it, but you totally need this fiery little redhead in your life. Trust me.

 

You Had Me at Pinot – A Night With OneHope Wine

I love having friends over. My gaggle of girls is like no other and to me there is nothing better than having a girls’ night IN, cracking some wine open, eating and laughing. Actually, I’d rather pop bottles in my home than in some roped off VIP area with chicks wearing tube tops as skirts (that’s so late 80s BTW, I did it and there were called Multiples) at the trendiest club on SoBe.

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So when I was contacted by OneHope Wine to have an event at my home, they had me at Pinot (Noir).

Not just because I love wine. Because I totally do. But I LOVE what this company is about. Every bottle you purchase donates proceeds to a different charitable cause (autism, breast cancer, providing clean water, ending hunger, and the list goes on).

So, I know what you’re thinking…the wine probably sucks.

Well, it does NOT. It’s good you guys. As a matter of fact to put it in perspective, I’m committed to red wine like Jax from Vanderpump Rules is committed to being the world’s douchiest douche. (If you’re not watching that show, and like a good train wreck, you are totes missing out by the way). However, their chardonnay was so delicious that for the first time in at least a decade I bought a bottle of white. That’s a BFD for me.

One of my other favorite things about OneHope are the glitter bottles.

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If you like shiny things, and I definitely do, they are GORGEOUS. Like too pretty to open gorgeous. So pretty and with such purpose that they have been featured on Oprah and in Allure.

Alina, from OneHope led us on a little tasting tour, explaining not only the notes of the wines but also about each charity involved.

And, one of the best parts was that 15% of any half cases or cases purchased that evening went¬†to a charity of my choosing. It was a no-brainer for me. I selected Bright Pink¬†for very personal reasons. My mother is a breast cancer survivor and any chance I have to give back to charities that help against¬†the fight of this shitty disease, you better believe I’m going to do it.

My childhood friend, Rotem, also a breast cancer survivor, is an ambassador for Bright Pink and was able to attend, share her story, explain what Bright Pink does…and drink with us ūüôā

I couldn’t help but look around the room at many times during the night and be proud. Proud to be having this event with OneHope and proud of all of us for taking time out of our weekends to do something meaningful and amazing.

Thank you to all who came out and supported the important causes OneHope is involved with. Thank you to Alina. Thank you to Rotem. And most of all, thank you to my mama for being the strongest woman I know and coming to support me at an event that started when you are usually in REM sleep (just for the record, it started at 7pm).

I urge you to check out OneHope Wine . What they are doing is pretty damn spectacular.

To order you can visit: www.viaonehope.com/alina-cascante

Peace, Love and OneHope

xx

Rachel

 

 

 

 

You Should Totally Leave Your Husband – NEW from Suburban Misfit Mom!

Divorce is a slippery slope and friends need to be careful what they say when they know people in the thick of it! Check out my new story on Suburban Misfit Mom!

 

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It’s Not a MOMpetiton – New From Lifestyle Magazine

You know those moms who alway seem to be in competition with you? It could be about their child’s sleep habits, eating habits, academic prowess and even gifted testing?

I hate those moms.

And I’m calling for an end to the MOMpetition. Read all about it in this month’s Lifestyle Magazine Article! (Page 24)

AAAANNNNNDDDDD – There’s even a very special cameo from my person – Marni!

Decmeber LFMAG

 

 

Whine & Cheez(its) Review: Read Between the Wines Game

I’m not really a game person. Actually the thought of a game night doesn’t do it for me. I’m more the “crack open a bottle of wine (or 10) and shoot the shit” kind of gal. But, my interest was piqued when I received the game “Read Between the Wines” to take for a test run. The last time I played a drinking game, was probably flip cup in the 90s. But this was WAYYYYYY more refined.

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Because my squad is all over South Florida running in different directions at different speeds, it took about a month to actually nail down a date/time for our grown-up playdate.

The game comes with everything you need, minus the wine and glasses (which I happen to have a bounty of). I told everyone to bring a bottle of wine (dealer’s choice) and I would provide the food, including “The Dip” (I’m kinda famous in some circles for my spinach artichoke dip).

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Once everyone said their hellos and caught up, I got super bossy and moved everyone to the table so we could get to business. I made the mistake of not really reviewing the rules/directions BEFORE everyone got there which did not work in my favor. I totally screwed up the first couple of rounds and even left some things out.

That's me screwing up the directions and my friends laughing at me

That’s me screwing up the directions and my friends laughing at me

And if I wasn’t leaving things out, my friend since before birth, Kelley, was totally derailing my wrangling with side conversations at every turn. It’s kind of her thing after a few drinks (in addition to a super squeaky voice) so we are used to it and love her immensely for it.

But once we got rolling it was highly entertaining. Basically I served as the “wine waiter” and poured a small sampling like a super knowledgeable sommelier, for each person. Then they had to taste it and write a description of the wine based on a theme I gave them from a deck of little cards provided (that’s the part I originally forgot and it’s kind of a big deal).

For example one theme was to describe the wine using sports-related terms to which I received clever responses like “tastes like burnt ball park hot dogs” and “not a home run”. Another example was to describe the upbringing of the grapes for this wine which elicited some dicey and questionable responses. Let’s just say my friends are beyond inappropriate and I effing love it.

Once everyone turned in their responses, I read them aloud and the table had to guess who said what. The winner with the most correct guesses at the end won. And the prize was (most appropriately) a bottle of wine.

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This pic speaks volumes. That’s Elise hard at work carrying the weight for her teammate, Kelley (the derailer). Kelley and I had many moments like this growing up.

We went for a few rounds, the responses definitely got funnier and more inventive (and more salacious) as we went (combo of the wine and the inherent hilariousness of my friends).

We had a great time and lots of laughs.

Thank you to all of my girls who came to play and for being such sports while I (and Marissa – my unofficial photog) were like paparazzi trying to capture all the moments. And congrats to Lorin and Debbie (the winners)! Lorin, btw, treated the game like a psychological evaluation based on the descriptions, which was clearly a winning strategy because her team took home the gold.

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I only have two MUSTS  in terms of advice if you are going to engage in this game.

  1. Study up on the rules beforehand. It’s not that they are difficult, but there are a few different steps and after a couple of glasses of wine they are not so easy to navigate (totally my fault)
  2. You CANNOT play with lame people. I’m not kidding. Don’t invite people to be “polite”. Invite funny people only or your game will suck.

If you want to experience Read Between the Wines you can purchase it at¬†www.readbetweenwines.com¬†or click here.¬†And because I totes have your back, I got my readers a discount code for 15% off –¬†RBTWINES

This is a GREAT holiday gift for the game lover who also loves wine. (Or even the teachers who are with our kids all day ;))

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Club W

Pro Blogger vs. Faux Blogger

So I officially “launched” my blog this weekend.

Launched to where exactly, I have no effing clue. But it seemed like the right thing to do. I suppose it was more of a celebration than a launch but whatever it was, it was awesome. It’s been about a year (give or take) and I guess part of me felt like my readership would dissipate and it would just be a fun hobby.¬†I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In January I was sitting at my good friend Stacy’s event, CRA Live. I fully went to support her, help register people and basically be on deck for any logistical help she might need, not thinking at all about what I may get out of it. But when we were asked to write down in our journals a few actionable items we would commit to in our own lives – business, personal, whatever – I wrote down “Get a logo”. I never imagined the domino effect that would have. But Stacy has that power¬†(or I’m just a sucker for a fiery red-head) to “politely” kick you in the ass and get you to take action. It’s one of the things that made me instantly become smitten with her when we met several years ago.

At that moment (in my mind at least), I drew the first line in the sand of pro blogger vs. faux blogger.

That week, I grabbed my balls, had a logo designed and my wheels started spinning. I had many conversations in the following weeks with people about potential partnerships, etc. I grasped the fact that this was truly mine to do something amazing with and also knew it wasn’t going to be easy. And then, the PR gal in me decided the next logical move was a “launch”. It was perfect timing really because I had just agreed to join a Ponzi scheme selling Rodan + Fields and could incorporate this into my launch. It was after all, the way I planned on funding some of the activities tied to my blog so I wouldn’t have to touch my paycheck.

So I committed to the date, ordered branded wine glasses and coasters and sent out invitations.

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What if people didn’t come? What if I didn’t sell a single skin care item? What if it was a total flop and the whole idea sounded better in my head.

But they DID come. If my neighbors don’t hate me yet…they just might now.

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And, I snagged an awesome liquor sponsor. An effing liquor sponsor. Friends Fun Wine¬†provided the canned libations (why should beer have all the fun?) I mean obvs we were going to have a wine tasting at a Whine & Cheez(its) event. For the love of Kanye, they have flavors like Cabernet Espresso – that’s WINE and COFFEE – two of my most favorite things! Plus, Boca is infested¬†with skinny bitches who don’t eat (excluding me – I live to eat) so the whole less than 100 calories per can thing is pretty much perfect. My friend Kristin arrived a little early and was put to work setting up the display, so naturally, once the night started she was pegged as the bartender. She totes rolled with it. My other friend Kody texted me asking if I needed help, and I realized I did, so she came over and immediately started setting up food. That’s the thing about my friends, old and new. They ALL get shit done. They all have the “all hands on deck” mentality and it’s freaking fantastic.

Less than 100 calories a can and crazy creative flavors? Yes please!

Less than 100 calories a can and crazy creative flavors? Yes please!

I was hoping people would get liquored up and shop (I’m only half kidding). Because let’s be honest…who doesn’t love some drunk shopping?

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Within 5 minutes, someone compared the macroexfoliator to a vibrator, and just like that the tone for the evening was set! Also didn’t hurt when, Stephanie, my friend and trusted manitherapist said to my mom, “Hey Arlyne, What’s goin’ on?” to which she replied without missing a beat, “I don’t know, why don’t you ask Marvin Gaye!” Wait for it…wait for it….there you go!

I do wholeheartedly believe in the R + F line, I use it every day and it’s legit. But I’m not a harasser. I know that if I am not into something, I don’t want to be “sold”, so I am VERY sensitive to that. Don’t get me wrong – I will pitch the shit out of some Microdermabrasion paste and sell the amp roller til the cows come home. I’m just not one for barking up someone’s tree if they are giving me the “please don’t sell me” look. It’s the look that frequently accompanies you pretending to be on your cell phone when there’s nobody on the other end to avoid engaging in conversation.

So I’m looking around the room and I am just stunned. These people all came here to support me. ME. Friends from elementary school, work, neighbors. From every facet of my life I had women there representing. It was amazing and I’m not gonna lie – I had such a lady boner. And then it hit me that I probably needed to say something. But shit! I didn’t prep anything. Sure I have a robust PR background and have given many a soundbite, written a fair amount of speeches for talking heads, and trained the wormiest tech geeks who have probably never seen a female breast that wasn’t animated AND are probably virgins, to speak to the press like a boss. But son of a brisket, this was MY thing and I am so not good as my own publicist. Why didn’t I prep anything?!?!?! I decided I was just gonna have to Bill O’Reilly it. “Fuck it…we’ll do it live!!!” (If you haven’t seen that vid you’re missing out.¬†God I love the internet.)

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The only person sweating more than me was my mother because she was freaking out about having to buy something. The woman hasn’t changed her skin care regimen of irish spring and albolene since the 80s and if you’ve read ANY of my posts you know she does not take well to change. I let her off the hook because she bought the eye cream so I ¬†know she’ll be back. Especially because for the past few weeks she’s been comparing the appearance of her skin to a sharpei.

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You know what else was a real crowd pleaser?!?!? The Instagram frame I got (from Alexander Mason Designs). Seriously. It was a close second to being in college during my sorority days when we used to hire photogs for date functions, socials, whatever excuse we used to wear short skirts and tube tops ,and would chase them around yelling, “FLASH!!!” which was the cue for them to take our photo.

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It was the greatest night. I was surrounded by people who believe in me (not those who thought I was spending too much energy on a silly blog). People who want to see me succeed and who DID buy R + F products. No mean girls (nobody likes a mean girl…you guys are the worst…and you know who you are so just cut the shit and try to smile every once in a while.)

I’m not trying to have an “I am woman” moment but it’s all true. Every time I welcome a new lady friend into my circle and they meet existing friends – they always say the same thing… “You have the GREATEST girlfriends!” And you know what??? I really do. And I realized something else. I seriously do not have an ugly friend. Not one.

The last of the group lingered until about midnight, we sipped wine, picked at food and rounded out such a great evening.

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If that’s not a sign of a successful launch…I don’t know what is!

I was so wired I couldn’t sleep. I was still marinating in all of it, and then, when I thought it couldn’t get better…the next day, SLS and I were at the mall grabbing an iced tea in Teavana, and another gal waiting in line (you know who you are!) turns and says, “Are you the Whine & Cheez(its) girl?!?! I love your blog, I follow it and read it all the time.” I don’t even know if she realizes how much those seemingly innocuous words mean to me. But they made my effing day/week/month! I was literally floating on air for the rest of the day. I have enough humility to be beyond stoked about a moment like that and am not ashamed to admit how awesome it was!

I am so appreciative of ALL of you who read, share and support me.

Thank you from the bottom of my cheezy little heart!

Now if you really love me (and this blog) you’ll buy some skin care.

***For more info about Friends Fun Wine, check out their website and Facebook page.

#Rachelorette

Raise your hand if you have ever been to a bachelorette party.

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I have been to my fair share of bachelorette parties. Every bride-to-be has a vision of what they want to do. Party City has multiple aisles dedicated to this rite of passage and there are websites galore selling penis-shaped everything.

I am no prude, but my vision for my own bachelorette celebration was NOT that. And I felt the same exact way the first time around. Yep! Not my first rodeo kids. Don’t get me wrong…when our first friend got married in our early 20s, we threw her EXACTLY that kind of shindig. There was a game reminiscent of horseshoe, but instead of the stake to throw the rings around, it was a little more phallic. She was in a veil, we all wore necklaces with male genitalia and I somehow convinced an actual restaurant filled with regular people to allow a stripper to come in pretending to be a waiter mid-meal. It was glorious. And we really didn’t know any different since we were just cutting our bachelorette teeth.

In my case, one thing that did NOT change from the 1st time to the last, was the general game plan. I told my friends I did not want any of the following:

1) No penis straws

2) No flashing penis jewelry

3) No shirt blinged out with lifesavers that read “suck for a buck”

4) No veil, sash or tiara or any combo of the three (I did wear these things for my first one but I was also 26)

5) NO STRIPPERS. If there was any sign of a banana hammock, I’m out.

All I wanted was to have an amazing dinner (and lots of drinks) with my girlfriends.

I know the whole stripper thing is kind of like an obligatory motion, but I’m not interested. There is nothing attractive about a bedazzled banana hammock on a juiced-up guy with greasy hair staring at himself in the mirror while he perfects the pelvic thrust. It’s gross and makes me feel like I need to shower with a brillo pad and bleach. Also, having seen strippers and what they do with dollar bills, I now understand why money is so effing dirty. Keep it.

So me and my closest girlfriends, dating back to elementary school, had a true girls weekend. We went to Palm Beach, got a hotel room, made dinner reservations and spa appointments and ate our faces off (in between drinks). Everyone was also on different schedules so it was like a revolving door of awesomeness from hour to hour.

I drove with a friend and we kicked off the weekend with bloody marys and a nice light lunch consisting of mushrooms and grits, tuna avocado spring rolls, guac, seared scallops over parmesan quinoa cakes and probably something else I’m forgetting.

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Everything was primed for a great weekend. I got to the hotel with one girlfriend, got our keys and headed up to the room. Mother nature is a bitch so she completely ruined the beach/pool time I was envisioning, but my group is one who can have fun anywhere in any circumstance so I wasn’t too bummed. Plus we were already finding stupid excuses NOT to be in bathing suits so it worked out.

BeeTeeDubs, this is what I packed for 48 hours

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DAY ONE:

We barely made it into the foyer of our room when my girlfriend says. “Ummmm no, this room smells like mold. We are not staying here!”

Back downstairs we went to the front desk for a reassignment.

Get up to room #2 and are hit with a heat wave. The AC is on 78, we’re immediately sweating and call maintenance up to help, only to learn it’s unfixable and we need to move…again.

The front desk officially hates us and we have been there for less than 10 minutes.

Third room was a charm but you don’t mess with a bunch of hardworking women looking forward to some good old-fashioned lady debauchery sans kids, husbands, boyfriends and pets. Not a great first impression, especially for a pricy hotel on the beach.

My girlfriend headed downstairs to handle the situation and came back 5 minutes later with a $100 off each night and free breakfast for all of us. Leave it to the Jewish girls. (Don’t eff with my friends). #Winning.

As if the hotel didn’t hate us enough, now we needed about 50 more towels and like 800 of those impossibly small shampoos and conditioners and nobody wanted to call and ask. After shuffling around each other to get ready like we were living in a sorority house with a communal bathroom , we headed downstairs and added the bartender to the growing list of hotel staff who hated us. We are not a quiet group and we decimated his drink menu basically ordering “When Harry Met Sally” style removing and adding different things to the cocktails he carefully curated with his bartender prowess. We could not have been bigger pains in the asses. But I think we grew on him, because he delivered a round of free shots completely unprompted. And all of us fared well so they probably were not spiked with something out of spite.

After a mini photo session and early abuse of the #Rachelorette hashtag it was time to get this show on the road. Which meant lining up uber. I’m pretty sure the whole point of uber is to handle everything through the app itself, but another friend clearly needed some hand holding and called one of their offices. So uber pulls up and what are they driving? An effing minivan. Really?? Are they messing with us because we’re old and some of us are moms?

As we were driving in the swagger wagon, another girlfriend was tracking our progress on her iPhone in real-time and providing constant feedback to the driver about how he was going the wrong way (he was btw). Then there was a loud noise and the driver says to her “Ma’am…is everythink ok back there?”

“Yup, I just spilled some ice.” (By ice she means the remainder of her drink including the ice, lemon and straw).

Add him to the “people who hate us” list too.

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Phenomenal dinner, amazing company and still energy for drinks?!?! And if you’ve ever wondered the right way to end a meal – this is what it looks like.

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We ventured to the Breakers and if you’ve never been, it really is gorgeous. And I can sum up the vibe there with the opening conversation we had with a 26-year-old boy and his 36-year-old girlfriend.

Us: Where do you live?

Him: (as he brushes his ken-doll blonde hair away from his blue eyes): I live in Palm Beach half the year and Aspen half the year but I grew up in Hawaii and also spend some time in LA. How about you?

Me: I live in Boca…all the year.

Boom. Drops Mike. Exits stage.

We ended the night snuggling because that’s how we roll. And yes, my “pajamas” are yoga pants and a Wu-Tang Clan shirt. If ya don’t know…now ya know.

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DAY TWO:

The previous night was one for the books. My sides hurt from laughing and my head hurt from drinking. Both signs of a successful #Rachelorette. You know what’s not fun though? Waking up at 8am when you went to bed at 3am. You should never both fall asleep and wake up in the “AMs”.

I ambitiously bought gym clothes but that shit was not happening, let’s get real. There are only two logical things to do after a night like that and they’re called breakfast and a bloody mary.

We spent the day hanging in the overcast weather staring at an amazing beach view and rehashing the night, which is kind of the best part.

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Then it was time for massages. I love massages like a fat kid loves cake. We walked around the spa aimlessly because they apparently didn’t believe in signs and so everything was unmarked. And just like that, our suggestion to put some signs up grew our “people who hate us” list to one more.

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You know how you know it’s a good massage? When your masseuse wakes you up to flip over and you are completely incoherent, forget where you are for a minute and are drooling like a teething toddler. So that happened.

Dinner the next night was much more low-key. I loved the lunch spot from Friday so much that we actually went back.

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Another friend starting showing me video clips from different hot spots in the area to decide where we might go after dinner. It’s like they were having a contest of which one could have the most douchebags raving with glowsticks dancing to house music (I literally have nightmares that start like that). Halfway through dinner, I was so afraid everyone would want to go out again and my 38-year-old ass wanted none of it.

I turned to my best friend (who made it very clear we were not leaving without ice cream) and said,

“I don’t want to go out. I really just want to get ice cream, go back to the hotel, take my bra off, put on my pajamas and hang out until we go to bed.” I was a little bit nervous about how she’d respond even though I thought she might be on the same level as me.

She looked at me and said,

“I EFFING LOVE YOU SO MUCH” (Just one of the many reasons we are biffles)

So, that’s what we did and it was PERFECT.

I wrapped up the weekend walking the beach for almost an hour and having breakfast with my person.

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It could not have been better. I have the best girlfriends ever. They’re smart, funny, always a good time, and one is more gorgeous than the next. Wait…am I the DUFF!?!?!?

Almost as quickly as it began, the weekend was over and it was back to reality – which for me included coming home to my money pit, where SLS had officially moved in – and having a mini meltdown over his qtips crowding my bathroom drawer. But that’s a WHOLE blog in itself.