My non-BlogHer loot, or why it pays to make friends with people who have friends who work at Chanel

One of the unexpected benefits to blogging is the friends you make. I know so many women who started blogging with the idea of joining a community, but when I started, I saw it as a way for me to torment the internet with my drivel. And of course, it is.

But I've made more friends than I've believed possible. In fact, I've made more dear friends from blogging than I ever did from volunteering at my kids' schools, serving on non-profit boards, or joining gyms.

(OK, that last part was kind of a joke, because who makes friends at the gym? Not I.)

Who'd have thought that by holing up with my laptop, I'd meet so many wonderful people? People who do things like send me this:

See, blackbird has a good friend at Chanel. A Chanel Connection. And the loot can be a little overwhelming to a very small bird, so when we got together at BlogHer, bird presented me with the overload:

• A refillable purse spray of Chanel No. 5 Eau de Toilette, plus two refills
• Two eye pencils, in Le Crayon Khol in Marine and Le Crayon Yeux in Seafoam
• Two Glossimers in Sunset Gold and Pin-Up
• Nail polish in Lilac Sky
• Eye Makeup Remover
• Three mascaras: Extracils in Brun, Mascara Volume Intense in Smoky Marine, and Inimitable in Brun Noir
• Two AquaLumiere lipsticks in Waikiki and Monte-Carlo
• and a Rouge Allure in Intuitive

In a word? Squee!

I have answered all your beauty questions

Well, ladies, you overwhelmed me with the generosity of your response to my last post. I'm more grateful than I can say. With the incredible spirit of women bloggers reaching out to other women bloggers in need, you brought me your age spots, sagging skin, wrinkles, flabby bits, and porn star eyebrows.

There are no words. You made my day. Week, even.

Of course, I didn't feel qualified to fix problems of that level of severity--after all, I'm not a plastic surgeon. The tasks you set for me were not what I could accomplish in the time I allotted (30 minutes to research, 45 minutes to write, 120 minutes to upload the frakking images, correct the links, and fix the inevitable formatting mistakes.)

(Also, I'd like to take this opportunity to wonder why the hell BlogHer's software doesn't include a spell-checker, for frak's sake.)

But this is what I managed to accomplish. I answered blackbird's question about tinted moisturizers.

Yes, it was the easiest question to tackle. But now I have a backlog of great ideas for next time! And at my publishing rate, I'll have time to finish medical school and a residency in cosmetic surgery before I have to write another BeautyHacks post. So there's that.

P. S. In other news, Badger has started posting to Lipstick is My Crack again. Check it out!

Cue Paul McCartney

Yesterday was bliss.

Unfortunately, this morning I woke up to the dull realization that today isn't yesterday. And what fresh hell awaits me today? We won't go into that right now. Instead, I'll keep things light and breezy. I'll spread sweetness and light. In short: I'll talk about yesterday.

Oh, the blissfully blissful bliss of having blackbird as my personal shopper! (For anyone just coming in, she went through the hassle of buying a Wii and is shipping it to me.) We talked on the phone yesterday, and the bliss continued. Even though my my kids were home, they kept their contributions down to wandering on stage from time to time to say something to me in a duck-like quack. Which was not overly intrusive, not to mention that now blackbird knows I'm not making up the part about having children. Which gives this blog an air of verisimilitude.

Also: surprise! She's hilarious. (That was irony. Of course she's hilarious.)

Also: I actually had fun volunteering at my kids' school. I was a lunch lady. It was fine. My daughter even seemed pleased to see me.

Also: I baked Oatmeal Crispies for the Girl Scout meeting, using a new recipe, which I put together amazingly fast, thanks to my KitchenAid mixer. The resulting cookies were well received.

Also: Girl Scout "Thinking Day" went well, and what is crucially important, my daughter appeared to enjoy herself.

Also: I changed my kids karate class from Wednesday to Monday. The Monday class is smaller, and the students have with a wider range of abilities. My kids did great! And there were no moms waiting with me, so I read while I waited.

Also: dinner was at McDonald's. I know. I even ate there myself. I know. But double Filet-O-Fish^TM sandwiches, people!

OK, so. Now to deal with today. The two fundraisers I'm chairing. The lack of Filet-O-Fish sandwiches (even single ones.) And the engine light on my VW Passat. Which turned on a couple of days ago. Yes, the car that was in the shop for three months. And now has to go back again.

Envy me

for my powers of whining. Because apparently in this blog, I have, without trying, invented a potent cocktail that will, if you imbibe enough of it, cause you to give me what I want.

For example:

My son wanted a Wii for Christmas. I tried (not all that hard, I'll admit it--does browsing the internet count?) and failed to get one for him.

Reasoning that it was inevitable that the supply of Wiis would increase, capitalism being the way it is, I decided to bide my time. Surely right after Christmas the stores would begin to bulge with Wiis. In fact, a vast flood of them would threaten to engulf us all. (Remember Tickle Me Elmo? Cabbage Patch dolls?)

So my son got a gift certificate from Santa Claus, with the promise of a Wii by his birthday.

Well, his birthday is in April. And still no Wiis are to be found. (Not that I've gotten off my fat ass to actually go out and look for one, mind you. But internet searches and the occasional phone call to Best Buy are coming up with zero.)

And then, yesterday, when I was at church for four hours, not praying for a Wii (because I was too busy praying for forgiveness of your sins. Yes, yours, and yours, too) Blackbird was emailing me to tell me that she had bought a Wii, and if I wanted it, she'd send it to me.

Check her blog for the gory details of the getting up before dawn and the waiting in line at her local Target. I mean, how nice is she????

(You'll need to scroll down past all those pictures of Anne Hathaway needing better underwear.)

So. While any fool can tell that this blog is 99 percent drivel, the lesson to learn is this: don't knock drivel. Apparently, lots of drivel + whining + extremely short paragraphs = your own personal shopper providing you with exactly what you want. And even shipping it to your front door. So you really don't ever need to tear yourself away from your laptop.


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Bliss.