Archive for the 'Shopping' Category

Published by PaintingChef on 08 Nov 2011

In which I totally shatter everything you thought you knew about me… but only if you don’t know me at all.

So… little know fact about me? I have what could, in some circles, be LOOSELY defined as a shopping problem. I know, I know. I’ll pause a second here for you to collect yourselves. You’re so disappointed. This is SHOCKING, really, isn’t it? I’ve shattered your illusions. It’s all over.

(Patrick. Hi honey. If you are reading this just… stop now. Please. I beg you. I love you and I want to stay married. I adore lounging on the couch with you and walking the puppies on gorgeous evenings and that one thing you do that makes me squee a little… yeah, I’d like to continue that. So please, for the love of all that is good and covered in chocolate and bacon… CLOSE THIS PAGE NOW.)

The truth is this. I receive no less than 30 shopping-related emails every day. My UPS guy gives me a Christmas present and I know my debit card number by heart because I’ve typed it in so many times. My closet is full of broken down boxes and I buy hangers for my closet the way some people buy toilet paper. My closet is stuffed to the gills and there is a chance that shoes are going to take over my bedroom. It is, without a doubt, a Problem.

But it’s less of a problem than it used to be. You see, I’m doing better. Which is quite odd because you would think that with the recent shrinking of my ass and hips, I’d be doing worse. Okay, maybe technically I am. But there is a difference. Now I’m shopping out of necessity. Um… I should back up before I dig myself fully into this ridiculous hole, right?

When I was at my heaviest, I figured there was one of two approaches I could take to dressing. I could shroud myself in big black sacks and hope that nobody noticed me or I could wear the brightest, most colorful and vibrant clothes I could find. Hot pink. Orange. Bright greens and blues and sky-high heels. I figured that if I wasn’t trying to look like I wanted to disappear then people would think that I was more confident than I really was. (And dresses. ALWAYS dresses. Which really hasn’t changed, I LOVE a dress. But I have recently allowed jeans back into my life and we are taking things slowly but so far, so good.)

The funny thing about this was that I’d never been that person before. I was pretty much always in mostly black with one or two little pops of color. Not to hide or blend in or anything, that was just what I wore, how I was most comfortable. If I liked it, I was buying it in black first. Not red or hot pink or bright blue.

But now that I’m slowly becoming more comfortable in my own body again (and don’t get me wrong, there is still a LONG way to go but I think that when I know that things are moving in the right direction, I’m more confident in where I am at this moment.) Does that make sense? And would you like me to stop using parentheses? Haha… too bad! But as I’ve bought more things for my smaller self, I’ve noticed I’m drifting back towards blacks and greys and darker colors. This is kind of a problem because one thing about all those bright colors? They hid the animal fur that was glaring evidence of my total lack of housekeeping interest skill.

(By the way. This isn’t at ALL where I was going when I sat down to write this. I was planning on asking you to help me figure out if it seems weird that I’m thinking about giving some people homemade Christmas presents when I love to shop so much.)

So what happened was a few weeks ago things started to get cold. And I realized that all my cold weather clothes made me look like a psychedelic fat Olsen twin. It wasn’t a good look. This realization made me thing about trying something I’ve never done before… being HONEST about what I was going to do. “Patrick? I have no clothes. I’m going to shop. I have a few good discount codes but it isn’t going to be pretty. I just thought you should know.”

And you know what he said? Neither do I. Are you CRAZY?

I’ve recently decided to teach myself to make French macarons. They are gorgeous and adorable and twee and so very delicious. They can be made in a frillion different flavors and I love them. But something weird about the recipe is that it tells you to AGE your egg whites. And I think that’s kind of the same approach I take to new clothes. I age them. They sit in my closet for a week or so before I wear them.

“Is that new?”
“Oh no. I’ve had this for awhile, I just forgot about it.”

Next up? New hair. I need new hair. Any suggestions?

Published by PaintingChef on 19 May 2008

In which my homage to consumerism crumbled around me in a puddle of alcohol and poor planning.

Have I mentioned that the new (is it still new if we’ve lived there for 4 months? I still call it new) house has a pool? Well it does. And Patrick and I opened it this weekend. I even helped a little! I vacuumed the pool. This is amazing for two reasons. First… it was vacuuming and ask anyone who knows me… I don’t do floors. I don’t sweep, mop, vacuum, none of it. And if Patrick didn’t do floors we would have to hire a damn housekeeper. Because… well… you get the picture. And second? Aside for the aforementioned aversion to floors vacuuming a pool takes PATIENCE. Loads and loads of patience. Of which I have none. And bonus reason number three? I’m lazy as hell.

None of this is the point.

I am also PAINFULLY susceptible to consumerism and advertising in general. Patrick thinks that given my marketing degree this is adorable. At least I assume that’s what he is trying to say through his tears, teeth-gnashing and hair pulling as I leap at 3-D sidewalk chalk when I see it on television from my childless couch.

So when I saw these lovelies the other day from NapaStyle, I decided that I simply had to have them. How adorable are these? Are you already seeing visions of your entire summer planned around them? Do you not just want to lick them all over? No? Just me? Fine… moving on…

stolen from

But because I’m not completely ridiculous, I declared that this would be the “Summer of Limoncello” and that as I floated worthlessly in the pool this summer I would be sipping my homemade limoncello because I was going to become a limoncello goddess. What better way to justify my purchase of these adorable glasses? After all, what good is perfect limoncello if you don’t have the proper limoncello serving vessel? Is a martini as fun in a juice glass? And do you take tequila shots out of a pilsner glass? Well… perhaps some of us do…

So I ordered the whole lot of stuff. Both sizes of glasses and the carafe. And when it showed up today I stopped what I was doing and asked my BFF Google how to make said delicious summer beverage. And watched my carefully laid plans crumble around me. Because according to Limoncello Quest, limoncello? Takes FOREVER to make. And somehow it just doesn’t look like a fall beverage. I do not see myself watching college football and sipping limoncello out of twee lovely little glasses. I see myself guzzling ginger ale and Captain Morgan from a giant plastic stadium cup.

Reason the second for the crumbling plans? Apparently limoncello has LARGE amounts of alcohol and were I to spend an entire day floating in the pool with gossip magazines and free-flowing lemony nectar I would probably find myself in a very drunken state. Far too drunk for my lack of 10 foot tall privacy fence. And the aversion to pants I develop when in said drunken state.

And this is why I am suddenly very sad. But I think I shall make limoncello anyway. Because as any good accidental domestic goddess knows, when like hands you lemons… by god you had better be ready to wash them down with a fruity alcoholic beverage.

Published by PaintingChef on 25 Nov 2007

And you said I never did anything for you…

As I am currently trapped somewhere under this lovely mess…

I’m going to keep plugging away at the “Declutter of 2007” and instead leave you with a few ideas for some lovely Christmas presents. Because I’m all about helping you out with a little holiday shopping. But I swear this isn’t a theme developing. I’m just lazy and trying to get my damn house on the market.

The perfect gift for the book lover on your holiday gift list. You’re welcome.

(By the way… those are real… I swear. Click them.)

Published by PaintingChef on 29 Jun 2007

Most likely another purchase is in my immediate future…

There are some things that, regardless of how innocently they begin, always go downhill. A friendly drinking game, nights out with the girls, drinks after work, college, and for me… online shoe shopping.

I started out with very good intentions. I have a dress that is odd colors and I have shoes that are… alright but not perfect. And despite my avoidance of perfection in things housekeeping, getting to work on time and sticking to a healthy eating plan, I am a shoe-wardrobe perfectionist.

Enter the dress…

The Dress

But don’t let it fool you… it is NOT. WHITE.

So this morning as I once again tried to wear this dress to work only to be confronted, once again, by my glaring lack of matching footwear choices, I put it back on the hanger (and by hanger I mean bedroom chair, of course) and started over again. But the morning’s events caused me to sit down at my desk with a MISSION! I would find shoes to match this dress by god.

The first pair I found was simply perfect and had cooler heads prevailed, I would now be waiting for them to walk to my doorstep.

Safe and Boring

Unfortunately for those perfectly simple and appropriate shoes, they were sitting right next to these on the page. Which I adored. They looked less comfortable! Harder to walk in! They MUST be better! Naturally they didn’t come in my size.


And right about that moment all hell broke loose. Because I fell in love. And somehow my trigger finger found these. And they are headed to my house right now. They are stabby and uncomfortable looking, I surely won’t be able to wear them for more than a few hours. And in no shape, form or fashion do they match the dress for which I was buying shoes.

Sweetie Pie

I feel like this is the sort of thing George Bush would label as “Mission Accomplished.”

Published by PaintingChef on 17 Jan 2007

In which I not only call myself a whore twice but also make repetitive use of the phrase “day old dead flower”.

But first… a note from the management… I’m not deleting your comments, I’m not giving anyone the silent treatment. Contrary to popular belief, I DID graduate middle school and outgrow the silent treatment. (With the exception of marriage… the silent treatment is still a highly effective marriage tool…) Along with those notes you spent all class writing with six different colors of ink and sprinkled with BFF sentiments and then folded like a football or that weird rectangle with the little pull flap and the overlapping triangle. We need to bring back passing notes, don’t you think? The belly of here has apparently developed a somewhat ravenous appetite for random comments. It all started because some dirty rotten spammers forced me to install some rather hardcore comment moderation. Well that program apparently went and exposed itself to some serious radiation because it has become some insane bastardized version of its previous self and it hates you all. Its not me. I swear. But if your comment doesn’t show up within a few minutes of you leaving it, go ahead and leave it again… if you want.

It now appears that thanks to my Internet Fairy Godmother, this might possibly fixed… I kind of love her.

I talk a big game about loving expensive shoes and purses and cosmetics and oh, woe is me, I like pretty things. But I should be upfront with you and tell you where I’m more than a little bit dangerous (and if you aren’t hearing that Roxette song in your head like its 1991 then you are DEAD to me) because while I’m a whore for Nordstrom’s’…I don’t actually LIVE near one so sadly I must be fulfilled by their website.

But as soon as I step one foot inside a Walgreen’s I’m history. Big giant pink flower on a bobby pin? Yes please. Because there was that time last summer that I had my hair in a low bun and we were going out and I picked that azalea as I was walking to the car while Patrick was locking the front door and stuck it in my hair and it was cute for a little while but then I got drunk and went to bed and was lucky to get my shoes off and I woke up rolling in day old dead flower the next morning it was all…ew… day old dead flower. But now I have a fake one. Guaranteed not to smell like day old dead flower unless I roll in day old dead flower on my own. Which, let’s be honest, given my avoidance all things nature, ain’t likely.


And not just pink flowers! I walked out of there $41.15 poorer. Lip gloss! Conditioner! Fake flower! Possibly two Reese’s Peanut Butter Hearts (I shall neither confirm nor deny) Styling products! I’m a true whore for styling products which is just ridiculous given my general inability to do anything with my hair other than ponytail, bun, and chignon. However if I possessed the ABILITY to do something interesting? I would be armed with plenty of products.

I think I’ve adopted the same philosophy with organization. And perhaps house cleaning in general.

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