Destiny’s Chocolate

Destiny’s Chocolate 1


I haven’t fully recovered from Monday’s dog poop disaster, which is why I nearly lost it when Scott fell asleep eating a chocolate bar on our freshly washed bedding the following afternoon. Imagine a hot, sweaty, melted Cliff Bar mess that just might have been worse than the dog doo–it wasn’t pretty. (Although it certainly smelled better.)

As I threw the bedding into the wash for the second time in 24 hours, I could feel the blood rushing to my angry little head. Just when I didn’t think I could get any more furious, Scott walked into the hall.

“I got you tickets to Beyoncé as an early birthday gift,” he said casually. “We’ll have to go pick them up in the cities on Friday.”

And just like that, I’d forgotten about the chocolatey bed sheets. My mind had wandered to a much happier place…a place where I finally had a viable excuse to make this happen.


I don’t think you’re ready for this cellulite…

It’s totally a practical purchase as it can double as a Halloween costume/swimsuit/workout leotard…right?

Scott’s informed me he won’t be tagging along to the concert….something tells me he still hasn’t come to terms with Beyoncé’s weave. (Or he simply doesn’t want to be seen in public with a grown woman wearing “the bodysuit”.)


In other news, my good friend Jackie is hosting a month-long blog forum highlighting the good, the bad, and the ugly side of customer service. I’m guest posting today…hop on over and check it out! (Spoiler alert: I’ll be discussing something from the Target + Neiman Marcus collection.)


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LaLa Land Instagram Jam

LaLa Land Instagram Jam 2


I’ve been in Los Angeles with two of my girlfriends since Friday, and have had an absolutely incredible time.

I’ve neglected my sunscreen application, drank ridiculously expensive cocktails, and clad myself miniskirts that I’m at least five-years too old to wear in public.

All in all, I never want to leave.


But “real life” beckons. I’ll be flying home to ‘Sota tonight, but wanted to share some of my California-grams before returning my inappropriate miniskirts to the back of my closet where they belong.


My new boyfriend. (I like his club.)

Retail therapy in Santa Barbara. Not ten seconds after this photo was taken, American Express called to warn me of fraudulent activity on my account. I explained there had simply been a run-in with Marc Jacobs.

This cocktail set me back fifteen dollars and was absolutely disgusting. (Like…two ounces of tapioca pearls in the bottom disgusting.)

Kayla, getting inked in Venice Beach. Not pictured: the girl snorting coke in the background and the employee–who I initially mistook to be homeless– napping on the tattoo chair in between piercing clients. (Yes. I’m being 100% serious.)

Pride in West Hollywood. Never have I seen so many beautiful men in tank tops.

Is it bird poop? Or an angry avocado?

Pretending to be Brooklyn Blonde.

Good ol’ chicken and waffles. (Washed down with unlimited mimosas, obvi.)

Reuniting with my brother Leif for the first time since his deployment. A perfect ending to the perfect trip.


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Cat Eyes

Cat Eyes 3


For the last three years, I’ve been meaning to figure out how to copy Lauren Conrad’s signature wing-tipped eyeliner.

Lauren Conrad

Yup. Three long years. I just keep getting distracted with those pesky new episodes of Extreme Couponing and my latest habit of shopping for tasteful fishnet stalkings online.

(Yes, there is such a thing as tasteful fishnets.)

Being that I’ve finally conquered the Extreme Couponing anthologies, I actually got around to picking up some black liquid eyeliner at Target over the weekend. I rushed home, excited to experiment with the oh-so-vintage cat eye look. While I don’t have any professional training in makeup application, I consider myself fairly skilled when it comes to cosmetics. I can successfully apply my own false eyelashes, after all–slapping on some liquid cat eyes should be a breeze, right?


Oh so very wrong.

Things quickly went from easy breezy beautiful cat-eye girl to Katrina looks like she had permanent eyeliner tattooed on her by a six-year-old child with Tourette’s syndrome who happened to be high on Pixie Stix at the time.

Regrettably, I forgot to snap a photo.

Thank heaven for YouTube makeup tutorials. After taking in a few instructional videos, I was ready to try again. This time? The results were semi-successful! I’m on day 3 of the cat-eye experiment and have grown more and more skilled with each application. My confidence has increased so much, I’ve decided to provide my own little tutorial. Without further ado…


Yep. “makeupthat” is definitely a word.


Step 1: Get some liquid eyeliner


I picked up this stuff from Target. It’s the only liquid eyeliner I’ve ever purchased and/or used, so I have no idea how it performs compared to other brands. Target was about to close, and Scott was yelling at me for “going on another Target bender and buying too many hats”, so I just grabbed the first eyeliner I saw and ran to the checkout.

(To my credit, the hat I selected this time is beyond adorable…no matter what Scott says.)


Step 2: Apply the “wings”

Clearly, I’m still a bit skeptical…

Using the liquid liner–and a very light hand–draw lines from the corners of your eyes up towards your eyebrow. You can make them short for an everyday look, or longer for a bit more drama. They key is to make them thin and precise, and most importantly, even on both sides. (That’s key in not looking like a crazy person.) Don’t worry if they aren’t super dark — you can go over them later.


Step 3: Create the rest of your outline

liquid eyeliner

Are you SURE I’m not going to look cray-cray?

Draw a line from the center of your “wing” down to the center of your eyelid. This will be the outline for your cat-eye.


Step 4: Fill in the shape

Fill in the area you just created. Use a few coats if necessary to achieve a dark, jet black color. (I forgot to take a photo of this step as I was too excited that I was starting to look less creepy/delusional.)


Step 5: Line the rest of your eye

liquid cat eye eyeliner

Almost done…

From the center of your eyelid, draw a thin line to the inside corner of your eye. I also did a very subtle line on the lower outside corner of my peepers.


6. Apply mascara, and Instagram the ‘ish out of your fab new look!

liquid wing tipped eyeliner

liquid cat-eye eyeliner

Please excuse the random pose with the cherry. It was the only way I could think of celebrating the fact that I could maybe pass for Lauren Conrad’s socially awkward second cousin thrice removed with my new eyeliner.

(Fine…I may have also been trying to secure my free trip to Australia by sharing deceptively flattering photos of me eating healthy snacks. But it’s almost the same thing.)

A few extra tips that may or may not prove helpful:

  • If the cat eyes aren’t dark enough, you can go over them with regular eyeliner. Just avoid the edges so you don’t muddle the crisp, wing shape you’ve so carefully created with the liquid stuff.
  • A Q-Tip dabbed in makeup remover is a great way to fix errors and smooth out the shape of your cat eye.
  • If your husband rolls his eyes, he’s probably just jealous of your snazzy new look. Consider asking him if he would like cat-eye makeup, too.

Once again, I am not a cosmetologist or expert in any way, shape or form. I essentially have no idea what I’m doing other than the few tricks I’ve learned from experience and a smattering of totally narcissistic YouTube clips. Translation? I cannot, under any circumstances, guarantee that you will not look mentally unstable at the end of my six-step process.

But if you do, at least  you can blame your crazy eyes on my blog…?


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Girls Weekend

Girls Weekend 4


It wasn’t easy, but I somehow managed to drag myself from the 70 degree Washington weather back to the snow-covered prairies of ‘Sota. I’m always sad to leave Seattle, yet knowing these two are waiting patiently back home makes returning to the Midwest a little bit easier.

Snuggle Fort

One of the many “biscuit pics” Scott sent me when I inquired as to how he was spending his day.

When I asked Scott if he had any plans to get out of bed and actually accomplish anything that day, his response was brief, yet purposeful.

“Can’t. Too busy building this snuggle fort.”

I decided it best to leave Scott and Jolie alone so they might get all the excess snuggling out of their systems while I was away. As someone who spent the week Scott was gone watching countless hours of reality television and eating nothing but canned soup, I’m really in no place to judge. Besides, he would eventually get hungry and rise from bed to eat steak and watch football or something, right?

(Isn’t that what men do while their wives are away? Eat steak and watch football?)

(Scott just reminded me football season ended a few months ago.)

(But it’s still totally steak season, right?)

All inaccurate sports references aside, you get the idea. I knew Scott would eventually come up for air. And when he did, he’d fill his time with all the macho activities he didn’t have the opportunity to do while I was home nagging him to organize his sweatpants drawer.

Apparently, I thought wrong.

Very wrong.

While in the midst of a friend’s housewarming party, I received the following text.




Naturally some additional explanation was necessary. I instantly responded with a very confused “Say what????”


*Whatch means Whatcha…obviously.

In case the irony of this situation has somehow evaded you, allow me to spell it out.

When left home alone for an entire weekend of bachelor shenanigans, Scott decided to spend it cuddling on the couch with a chihuahua while watching Girls on HBO.

(Judging by the abundance of pastries I returned home to, I suspect there was also some baking involved. No steak…but plenty of baking.)

While slightly jealous that Scott had finished Season 2 of Girls without me, the housewarming party was still far more exciting. I tossed the phone in my purse and got back to the very important business of sipping Chelada with my favorite Seattle peeps.

A few hours later, I noticed several missed texts from Scott on my iPhone.






Finally, I responded.



Scott’s right. He’s totally an Adam.

If Adam sat around with a purse dog watching girly TV shows all weekend, that is.

So basically, he’s an Elijah.


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