The Quest for Luminosity

Luminosity? Luminousness? What’s the word?  Whatever it is, I am not. I wonder if it’s even possible for a women of a certain age to have luminous skin?? Can one be luminous with wrinkles, freckles, age spots, jowls, etc.? I think not.

Regardless, it’s fall and it’s time to TRY. ‘Tis better to try and fail than just give up, right?? So, I’m attempting an actual “Skincare Routine.”  Blah. Even saying it makes me itchy. I despise routines. I feel suffocated even using the word. Routine. Ugh.

Am using the 4 piece Boot No 7 Lift & Luminate kit from Target. It’s a day serum, day cream (with SPF 15), night serum, night cream, and then I bought an additional eye cream. Easy peasy to use and I had a coupon. #frugal I’ve been semi-diligent about using it day and night. This is definitely a step up from my fall-into-bed-with-makeup-on-and-wakeup-and-not-wash-face routine.

I decided against posting “before and after” pix. Honestly, can anyone ever really see the difference in some of the before/after shots?? I’ve decided to just go with how I feel about it. 2 weeks in?  Not fecking luminous at all. lol The stuff goes on easily, makes my skin feel soft, and smells nice so it’s not a complete waste.

And, since I was already buying snake oil, I bought an Illumask anti-aging device. #shame It’s a light therapy mask which is supposed to increase collagen, reduce fine lines and wrinkles, firm skin…a miracle in a mask for only $30. #frugal

It’s meant to be used daily for 15 minutes at a time for 30 days. There is a countdown timer on it so you know how many uses you have left. (and our friends at youtube have hacks that show you how to get more than 30 uses out of it #frugal) The huge issue I have is…15 minutes is a loooooong time. You can’t see out of the mask so there’s no walking around, no reading, no Facebook. Crime against humanity basically.

Here are my thoughts while using it:

Okay, this is nice and relaxing.

It’s warming up…reminds me of my tanning salon days (le sigh)

Do I have to pee? Dammit.

No, I am not going to pee. I can wait 15 minutes.

Okay, what can I think about now?

What if there’s a robber/rapist just stalking me now while I’m lying here blind?

Nah, Otis would be barking.

Unless he’s dead.

Shit, is any oxygen getting thru the mask?

What if I’m slowly asphyxiating myself? This would be a truly vapid way to go. #shame

Okay, maybe I’ll do some butt clenches.


How many minutes have gone by? Eleventy four?

Is that the sound of my heart beating?

Should it be so loud? 

Maybe it’s a sign of high blood pressure? Or impending death.

I do have to pee.


Where is the cat? She should be snuggling me now.

15 minutes is an eternity.

Oh, there’s Fiona.

And then the mask goes off.

Such a cat move to wait 14.5 minutes to snuggle. CATS!! Aloof jerks! *shakes fist*


Again, before/after results? Nope. Do I look better? No. Feel better? Nope.




Well, I Guess Summer is Over?

Shit. How did that happen?

Kids are both back to school. The Frug is frugging busily downstairs. And me? What am I doing? I’m sitting here at my desk, listening to the soothing sounds of Otis licking his empty ballsack, and dicking around on the interwebs. Time for me to do my traditional post-summer Kelly overhaul.

The summer damage is truly exponential. The revenge of summers past, if you will. It seems that no matter how many peels I do, serums I try, creams I buy and forget to use, the sun damage is there. SPF 70, no pool or beach during peak hours, sitting under an umbrella, etc. Pfft. No matter. Freckles, age spots, melasma. And the sagging. That’s a new one. Really enjoying the sagging. Jowls and neck are so pretty, flapping in the wind. I have 3480 browser tabs on “how to firm sagging skin without surgery.” *snorts*  

Another thing I’m digging is “eyelid hooding.”  Lots of people have undereye bags and dark circles. My thing is upper eyelid sag. It’s gorgeous!! Makes already porcine eyes look even more sinister! And old!  Let’s not forget OLD. Who has good product reccs for THAT? Come at me!


Happy Fall to All. Blah.


2 Absolute Gems to Brighten Your Day.

In between sobbing like a fool over Cecil the Lion #RIP, I was howling at some stuff on Buzzfeed.

Matt. Bellassai. Soul Mate? Spirit Animal? God?

You must must must tune into his “Whine About It Wednesdays.” The premise is Funny Guy Drinks Wine at Desk and Whines about Shit. (again, why didn’t I think of this??????) I’m posting what he did today b/c it goes along with another fun Buzzfeed post!

Why Clothes Shopping is the Worst.

And the other knock-it-outta-the-ballpark post from Buzzfeed — This woman photographed herself in RL lighting and in the dressing rooms of 20 different retailers. Clickity Click! —->>>> Eff you, shitty dressing room lighting!



Happy Anniversary to ME.

Well, it’s been 6 years of this blog. SIX. I think I celebrated the anniversary by doing a few loads of laundry and picking up dog shit in the yard.

Seriously, I feel like my day-to-day life is more boring now than it was when all I was doing was changing diapers and praying for a good night’s sleep.

And what is sleep? Between the stupid perimenopause (which can last 10 years! Yahoo!) and the Frug’s snoring and my general anxiety (Will I die tonight? Or will I die in a plane crash? Or plummeting off the side of the Bay Bridge?)  and specific anxiety (Did I remember to turn off the gas on the stove? Do I hear the dog puking in his crate? Where is Sarcasmo? When is he coming home? Is he even alive?) and the super-fun aches and pains of being an old lady…there is NO SLEEP. I used to be the Queen of Sleep. Now I lie there THINKING until I pass out…and then wake up with both arms DEAD and my lower back in spasm. Sigh. Get back to sleep and then wake up SWEATING. The Frug has the thermostat set to INFERNO over night b/c why would we need a/c while we sleep??? #killkillkill  I also have to sleep in a position that accommodates Fiona b/c she is so sweet and I love her and she needs to be happy.

And the nights when Sarcasmo is “chilling with his bros” I’ve taken to keeping my phone in bed with me, which is a huge sleep hygiene no-no. I check to see if he’s texted me. I check to see if I’ve gotten an alert from the teen driver thingy. Those are fun. “Hard Braking Event Detected.” “Fast Acceleration Event Detected.” “Overspeed Event.” And my favorite “Unauthorized Driving Period Event.” That’s when he is driving past midnight.  If I haven’t heard from him, I check Twitter for police and traffic reports. What do I think I’m going to find???? Who knows.

How do parents live through these teenage years??? And it would be different if he was happy and nice and loved us. Nope. We are assholes. Us! Me and the Frug!! Assholes?? Come on! We’re the best! I may blog more about my assholishness…lol


Well, at least the cat loves me. Maybe. One can never really be sure of that.

A Nightmare for Modern Times

Woke up this morning, feeling panicky.




Monster under the bed?

Tsunami? (always a fave)

Bridge? (a classic for me)

Teeth falling out? (tell me I’m not the only one?)

HS and I’ve got to take a final in a class I’ve never been to and can’t find the classroom?


I hear dripping and go to investigate…

Tub filled to overflowing…

In the tub…


Obviously dead…

My iphone.




World’s Lamest Blogger




Nothing. New. To. Say.

I’ve never been a “Mommy Blogger” because eeuuww. No thanks. Even if I wanted to relabel myself as such, I really couldn’t. Teenage stuff isn’t funny. Well, it is actually really funny but it’s so personal and they are actual people now so…. But, between us, there are some stories to tell! muahaha But alas…

Don’t want to be a “Wife Blogger.” Or, a “family life expert” kind of thing. Braggy bitches. Nope. That’s the kiss of death for the marriage.

Decided way back not to be a Twilight blogger, or a Fifty Shades blogger, for a variety of reasons. And I’m not going to do a book blog b/c, frankly, how many ways can I say “Wow, that was super smutty and I loved it!’?


I don’t know.

I guess I could tell you about Life with the Frug. Always a barrel of laughs.

Fine, I’ll do that.

Chatting with the Frug prior to leaving for my hair appt.

Frug: But you just got your hair done.


F: It doesn’t need to be colored.

Me: DO YOU NOT SEE THIS GREY? *gesticulating wildly and yanking my hair*

F: No.

Me: *April Ludgate Dead-Eyed Stare whilst thinking “ARE YOU BLIND, MAN?“*

F: Well, don’t go too light. You’re starting to look like a creamsicle.

Me: *smites him*


Frug: Oh, okay, it’s not too blonde.

Me: Well, he did put in some blonde…

F: Those are highlights. *said with child-like ‘I know this one!’ voice*

Me: But they put some dark in too. Those are called “lowlights.” *speaking slowly and pedantically*

Me: He also uses another color to cover the grey roots.

F: *scrambling for some way to save money on this deal* Maybe you can cover the grey at home?

Me: *stares soullessly*

F: Well, in the summer, can’t you just spray the roots with Sun In, or vinegar, to burn off the grey?

Me: ______________________________________

So, yeah. That’s just a snippet of my Life with the Frug. I’ll be writing later after I’ve stocked up on Sun-In and vinegar, the newest way to cover grey roots.

Mother’s Day, Schmother’s Day.

Mother’s Day. Blah.

Mother’s Day, for years, is not about you, it’s about your mother. Doesn’t matter if you have children of your own. As long as your mom is alive, it’s about her.  Then you get married and it’s about his mother. It’s about all the old ladies. You think to yourself “Someday! Someday it will be about me!” Until that day, it’s suffering through long drives to bring flowers to the old ladies and “enjoying” brunch in a hotel ballroom with 300 strangers. lol Or spending double to send flowers since you aren’t organized enough to remember to order them early!

Well, we have managed to kill off all the old ladies in our family, every last one of them.  I guess it’s finally about me  It’s about me, me, me. And, surprisingly, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be! I don’t know if I want anything to be about me anymore. Look away! Let me sleep in. Let me sleep in peace. I shall do NO CHORES. I shall be responsible for no one and nothing. I will not feed the dog. I will not do laundry. I refuse to unload or reload the dishwasher. I will make meals for NO ONE. This day of selfish sloth is to be capped off with dinner out. Dinner cooked and served by someone else.

I know that some people have the tradition of the children bringing their mother breakfast in bed. I’ve never wanted that. Crumbs everywhere, spilled orange juice, plus all the damn noise in the kitchen with the children messing things up and burning your damn toast.  For years our tradition was that the Frug would take the kids out to McDonald’s and have their “big breakfast.”  I got to sleep in the peace and quiet of an empty home and wake up to a glorious fountain Diet Coke. McDonald’s fountain Diet Coke and its bubbly perfection. That is Mother’s Day.

Today I think I’m going to go take a long walk and think about my mom and all the old ladies who are gone. I miss all of them every day.

See? I’m not all bad!

I hope all the women in my life have a special day today.

Natural Look

Doesn’t everyone want that “natural look“?? I want that. No one wants an overly-done look on a daily basis. And I’ve always said I go from zero to tranny (#respect) in a minute. But now that I am so-very-fucking-old, my “natural look” would frighten small children. Think about it — gray hair, wrinkled and sagging and sun damaged skin…UGH…and my brows are graying and sparser…and I’ve noticed my lips have lost color…I’m being erased! aahhhh

Here’s the Goddess Amy Schumer and her no makeup song. lol

Girl You Don’t Need Makeup!

Long Wearing Makeup for Summer!

Nice list of products for summer. I like the sound of the L’Oreal Paris BB facial sunscreen! (drugstore brand = FRUGAL!) I have zero luck with waterproof/water-resistant eye liners so I’ll skip the Smashbox liner BUT I may have to try that Laura Mercier liner — it’s called “copper brown” and I love COPPER with my blue-green-gray eyes!’s Summer Makeup Must-Haves!

Amy Schumer – Goddess of Truths

Last summer, Ashlee tried to tell me about Amy Schumer. “OMG, you’ll love her!” Meh. Not interested. Until now. She. Is. Amazing. She’s doing these music videos/reg. videos that have me both howling and nodding my head “YES!”  Hard to pick a fave. I may blog about them separately.

Today’s Amy Schumer classic is “Last Fuckable Day“…a group of actresses/comedians are celebrating one’s “Last Fuckable Day” — the last time she is considered “fuckable” in Hollywood. Which is, of course, before 40 generally. And men stay fuckable forever. Even when they are old and grey and wrinkled everywhere. Ahem.  Think about it. George Clooney. Still fuckable at 53 (54 next week, old man!) and yet Madonna (MADONNA!) is gross and unfuckable at 56. She made out with Drake at a concert and he looked like he wanted to throw up. MADONNA IS UNFUCKABLE, people. I mean, who’s next? Is Courteney Cox unfuckable at 50? Jennifer Aniston at 46??

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. As women, we age and get OLD. Men age and get “distinguished.” Why is that? We try so hard. We certainly try harder than they do. Jerks. We exercise and diet and use pills and potions and injections and surgery and still end up as gross old ladies. WHY WHY WHY? I turned 49 this year and I am definitely looking and feeling every single minute of 49. I read an interview with Candace Bergen. She is GORGEOUS, right? Classically beautiful woman. She said something like “where there used to be interest, there’s now politeness.” Politeness. Yes. I find that I’m getting so many more “ma’ams” than ever. And no man under the age of 60 even glances in my direction. Not that I need to be ogled but I really feel invisible. Just another older lady walking down the street. Avert your eyes.


Here’s Amy!

Last Fuckable Day.