Mishaps

Pimple Karma ⁴

Last Friday, I promised to reveal my scheme to convince Scott to adopt a mischievous orange kitten.

While you can rest assured that my plotting is still in full swing, I regret to inform you that unforseen circumstances have forced me to delay the big reveal until tomorrow.

And by unforseen circumstances, I mean this:

(I think this is the only thing worse than if I had dropped it in the toilet.)

I think it’s best to start from the beginning. Despite the fact that Scott works in Dermatology, I instantly ignore his acne expertise the minute I see a blemish on his face.

“Scott. You have to let me pop that. Trust me…it’s bad.”

“Katrina. No. You just need to let it be. This is what I do for a living…I think I know the proper course of action.”

Cue me, completely disregarding his advice and going in for the whitehead. Fingernails were used, which resulted in wriggling, yelling, and the iPhone completing a swan dive into the water glass that was so perfectly graceful, I almost suspected it was choreographed.

“OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!” I shrieked in horror.

“Quick! Get it out of there!” Scott screamed.

My reflexes eventually kicked in. After a great deal of wiping, shaking and Scott sucking water from the charger hole as if it were a high-tech straw, it seemed all the water was gone.

“I can’t believe your luck.” Scott oozed sarcastically, “The phone still works.”

“Lemme see!” I yelled while grabbing the device with all the politeness of a 5-year-old girl with a serious case of the ‘gimmes’.

I was shocked to see he was right. The phone did still work. At least for about sixty seconds. Then the touchscreen went out.

A few hours later, we found ourselves at the Apple Genius Bar. I have a pretty solid track record of getting iPhones replaced for free, and my hopes were high. (Although dashed slightly when I realized a female would be helping me, as she might not respond as well to my flirtatious charms.)

That doesn’t mean I didn’t give it the old college try, though.

After a quick introduction, I explained that the my touchscreen had gone out earlier that afternoon.

“Well,” she replied, “The good news is that you’re still well within you’re warranty. If I can’t fix it, we’ll be able to swap you out with a new phone free of charge.”

Cha-ching! Perhaps my charms do transcend the confines of gender, after all!

“Let me just open it up and take a look inside to see if there’s a simple fix I could make before we replace it.”

And just like that, she applied a bizarre looking suction cup contraption to the face of the my phone. Within moments, the white glossy exterior was pried open.

I should also probably mention that approximately three ounces of water came gushing out, squirting directly across the woman’s face as if to taunt her.

(No more cha-ching.)

On the bright side, Scott had the foresight to purchase Apple Care when we purchased our phones last summer. This meant a replacement device only set us back fifty bucks.

On the not so bright side, I don’t think Scott’s ever letting me pop one of his pimples again.

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Pimp my plaster (teeth) ¹³

Can you believe it’s once again time for the Young House Love Spring Pinterest Challenge? Time sure flies when you’re ~~having fun~~ playing Prom BINGO.

It’s no secret I failed the last few challenges miserably. After much reflection, I’ve determined this is a result of me, trying to live up to lofty Pinterest standards that are simply above my own personal level of DIY-prowess. The solution?

I could come up with my own original pin! Truly, it would be a win-win situation…there would be no previous benchmarks for me to live up to, and when my brilliant idea when viral, I’d be lauded as the creative crafting genius behind the entire scheme. (Insert evil craft laughs here.)

And so…without further ado…

Step One

Remember all those craft supplies and the custom set of plaster teeth you threw out when you decided to go minimal last week? Dig those puppies out of the trash…it’s time to repurpose them! (Thanks for the brilliant idea, Tove!)

Don’t worry. I rinsed ‘em off.

Step Two

Paint the teeth your favorite color while trying your best to sing along to your Lil’ John song of choice. (You KNOW I love me some Lil’ John.)

Naturally, I went with “Crunk Juice”

Step Three

Attach rhinestones in various shapes and colors while your husband rolls his eyes and tries to figure out what possible childhood trauma could have led you to create a pink, bedazzled grill at the ripe ol’ age of twenty-eight.

I think it was the fact that I never got an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas, Scott.

Step Four

Allow your masterpiece to dry overnight, while you peacefully dream of all the street cred you’re about to accumulate. (There may or may not also be a nightmare involving that elusive Easy Bake Oven…but mostly it will be dreams about street cred.)

Step Five

Try on your grill. Enter a state of denial as you desperately try to ignore the fact that it wasn’t quite what you were going for.

It's less "gangsta" and more "ill-concieved Frankenstein"

When “gangsta” becomes “ill-conceived Frankenstein”

Step Six

Freak out upon realizing you probably just poisoned yourself with a set of plaster teeth covered in toxic paint and rhinestone glue. (Such are the risks of thug life.)

Step Seven

Violently rinse out your mouth in the sink while debating possible uses for your less than desirable grill. Find a small amount of comfort in the fact that it could be repurposed as an abstract Mother’s day gift, or donated to one of those poor little girls on Toddlers and Tiara’s who can’t afford a real flipper.

If both of those options fall through? At least Sheila can wear it.

Pinterest challenge, you win again.

*****

Speaking of street cred, here’s a rundown of my long-standing track record of failed Pinterest Challenges

The Litterbox Chronicles - The painfully pathetic saga of unsuccessfully litter box training my chihuahua

When Pinterest Gets Creepy - Possibly the most disturbing family portrait to ever be pinned

Epic Pinterest Fail - When life hands you a failed Pinterest project, say “eff it!” and go buy yourself a pair of shoes

I Accidentally Became a Cartoon – And not just any cartoon…an UGLY cartoon

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Jolie goes to the Dermatologist ²

Scott and I have a morning ritual that consists of me, waking up at the very last-minute, and driving him to work. We do this for a couple of reasons.

We share a car. Dropping him off means I’ll have the vehicle during the day if I need to run an errand over my lunch break.
Some days, I teach a fitness class right after work. I need the car so I can leave immediately and then pick him up after.
Scott likes to make an 80 ounce “power smoothie” every morning, and drink it straight out of the pitcher. Driving while maneuvering a mammoth kale shake is nearly impossible, so I kindly take the wheel while he slurps up his beloved antioxidants.

Clearly, the third bullet point is the most important.

Yesterday morning was no exception. I scrambled out of bed, slapped on my snow boots (yes, it’s still snowing here), and summoned Jolie. Jolie always comes with us as the drive to Scott’s office doubles as her bathroom break. There’s a large field behind the clinic and running free across the wide, open space while relieving herself is certainly the highlight of her morning. Obviously, I always make sure to clean up after her — I’m not a believer in “natural dog composting“, like my husband.

As we make this trip every single morning, Jolie has become quite familiar with Scott’s clinic. She knows it’s the place that Daddy disappears to for the majority of the day, and even remembers which door to wait outside of when we pick him up in the afternoon. Her fear of abandonment is so severe, she sometimes attempts to sneak through the back door so she doesn’t have to face the day without Scott snuggling by her side.

Yesterday morning, she was successful.

This was problematic as it took me a good thirty seconds to realize she had actually infiltrated the Smalltown Dermatology clinic.

I rushed through the door in a panic, forcefully whispering her name as I searched two different hallways, the kitchen in back, and the receptionist’s area. To my complete dismay, she was nowhere to be found.

I took a deep breath, pulled my hood up over my head for disguise purposes, and quickly peeked in to the waiting room, which as luck would have it, was absolutely full. There was Jolie, defiantly prancing around Scott’s patient’s feet with utter delight. Upon seeing me, she rolled over on the floor and released a happy growl.

I hastily made my way to her, scooped her up in my arms, whispered a quick “I’m so sorry!” to the woman seated closest to me, and made a beeline for the exit.

(If a free-range chihuahua in a medical setting isn’t inappropriate enough, I should also mention I was clad in sparkly pajama leggings, high-heeled rain boots and an enormously exaggerated down coat. Makeup and hair had not yet been dealt with.)

The woman met my apology with a genuine smile and giggle. I didn’t check to see how the rest of the patrons had responded…quite frankly, this was one of those situations where ignorance was bliss. I grabbed Scott on my way out the door, quickly explaining to him Jolie’s impromptu parade through the waiting room.

“Relax, Katrina.” he assured me. “She probably just wanted to see about getting some Restylane injections. Her neck folds just aren’t what they used to be.”

Welcome to my life.

(Although Scott does kind of have a point about Jolie’s neck folds.)