...and here I am peddling my wares

Yep....I'm sellin something.  

Calm down, relax, don't go changing your numbers or removing me from Snapchat just yet.

 

I'm not asking you to host a party, or come try on my leggings or telling you you're fat so you should wrap some shit on those dimples. 

Well not yet...actually not ever.  

I don't plan on having parties or guilting anyone into buying a $600 dollar knife set (although I do have one and it's worth every penny and I can totally hook you up with a guy...) 

Really, there are only a few people who should feel obligated to buy whatever I chuck at their faces- only one really.  (If your name rhymes with Fawna, Lawna, Tawna....you know who you are...  Oh, to hell with it- SHAUNA this is you, but I'll get to you later.  In person, so it's harder to say no) 

Seriously though- that's totally not what this blog post is about.  Not really.

I did decide to jump into a new "business" and I will be the seller of some shit.  

Jeezus, I can feel your eyes rolling already- and my first response is to tell most of you to fuck off.  

Why? 

Well, Because I am the proud owner of leggings, vitamins, shakes, dildos, pizza stones, jewelry, and more candle wax than fucking yankee candle company; that's why.  

Also, because I'm not trying to sell you any shit- at least not yet.  (But I will SHAUNA and MIRIAM and HEATHER and JESSICA.and COURTNEY...oh, I know it's been a while for some of you ladies, but I haven't forgotten the purse parties or the time you laughed at my eyebrows Jessica.)

  

 

 
 

 

(I disguised the suspects but I'll totally take you off if you want me to) 

Back to my point....

I initially planned on becoming just a customer of my "cool-as-shit cousin Meg, but as usual I called an audible at the last minute and became a SB or a TP or a PPIQ or whatever letters they use to refer to "the chick that can get the shit and take your money".  (If your wondering.....no, those letters do not contain the letter c.  You know for consultant....but whatever.)

At this point I can pretty much feel Meg cringing (from 800 miles away)and telling me I'm a BP and for the love of all things holy please stop calling it shit. (She's my boss-ish but she can't actually fire me so I'll be calling it shit for the rest of this post if you're wondering)

 

Back to my elusive point:

Meg is a BP (or SP or PPIP or some shit) for Rodan and Fields.  That is the shit I keep referring to...although I don't really think it's shit.  (I would assume by now any of you reading this understand that shit is essentially my word for stuff or items. You know, just like terrorists and assholes are my words for children) 

Well anyway, Meg is my sponsor (we'll call her my dealer for now because it's more interesting) and she has asked me to write "my why" for joining R&F.  So that's the point of all this.  

You know the drill..... 

The dealer is the keeper of the shit, so you do what the dealer wants to get the shit.

....this means I'm gonna have to write an acceptable and mainly politically correct "why" for the people that don't know me.  

In order to offset the mental anguish of writing an entire paragraph without the word fuck I decided bring the real shit to my blog....where I can curse and call people dealers and make you laugh all while explaining why I decided to sell this. 

It's pretty simple - fucking zits and holy shit wrinkles that don't go away when I quit making the "for the love of god pick up the goddamn toys" face.  

Really that's it. You can quit reading now - you know the reason.  

But......If you're still paying attention I'll elaborate. 

I have the skin of a pubescent boy- AT ALMOST 40 FUCKING YEARS OLD!  Not the perks tho....I don't have the collagen of a pubescent boy.  I have the collagen of a 36 year old smoker which means I have fucking wrinkles under zits!  What in the actual fuck!?!?!

Know what else I have? 

-Baskets and drawers and bags full of shit to slather on my asshole skin. 

-Dermatologist appointments Coming  out of my ass....

-9,567,345 Walgreens points from all of the prescriptions for the slathering shit

And a standing Botox appointment to paralyze my face so it wont get any worse while I'm not paying attention

Check it out:

These are just a few pics of my stash:

 

 

Got a rare fungal infection from the jungles of Africa that causes boils?  I've prob got a steroid for that.... 

 

None of it really works completely and I'm losing my fucking patience. 

The tiny terrorist is still a dick and making things worse if you were wondering....She told me a few weeks ago that I needed to get on proactive for my "spots".  She even tried to sell me on their new face mask!!! (She has also reminded me about proactive no less than twice a week since.)

 

 I know she means well but she's 4 for fucks sake! 

That brings me to two weeks ago. 

I decided to go back to the only thing that has ever worked for me and gotten rid of my acne completely- Accutane. 

The side effects are pretty harsh: dry skin and lips, decreased night vision, ingrown toenails, giant headed fetuses, depression, suicide and liver damage.  (Yeah I totally said giant-headed fetuses....look that shit up) 

 I've survived them before.... there's also still the damn four year old counting my spots.  

So, off I went to the dermatologist. He agreed to write the script and I was on my way.  

Until I hit the Walgreens.  

$285 for a prescription that will cure my zits for 30 days and may or may not cause me to blow my head off even if the zits go away.  

Surprise!!! My insurance doesn't cover the cost because I'm too old for acne.  

Thanks Aetna!  I fucking think so too....maybe you could have a pep talk with my fucking face.  

$285 is a problem because .that totally eats up my $300 Botox budget (shut up- yes I have a Botox budget) 

Since I couldn't decide which was worse (zits or wrinkles) I just shit-canned both. 

That's where my dealer Meg comes in.  She's been using the same shit and her face looks AMAZING.  I asked her all about it and did no research and jumped right in.  

It was cheaper than the giant-fetus-head meds and lasts longer than the botox, plus there is a empty bottle refund guarantee.  

It def. can't be worse than my other 2 options right? 

(I've since done a little research and it actually looks really promising.)

So there's my why- vanity and my asshole kid (and I really hate having to wear make up to cover my skin...so laziness too) 

I'm supposed to put a pic of my why, but my skin is a shit show so I'm refusing for now. Instead here's a really cute picture of me with all kinds of flattering filters.  (I have taken a pic and will post it with my results later on when I'm talking you into buying my shit.... )

 

Until then check out my FB post for some of the amazing products and results that other people have had. 

That's  it for now. Wish me luck! 

   

https://ayaste.myrandf.com/

It Puts the Lotion on It's Skin.....

5 minutes....
It took her 5 minutes to cover all of her exposed skin in butt cream.
This is why I  smoke, and can't get a god-damned thing done...ever.

My kids are ADDICTED to lotion...in a disturbing way (they freak me the fuck out to be honest)  

I have to hide ALL of the lotion in my house.  

Lannie is straight out of silence of the lambs.  She'll rub an entire bottle into her tiny little body then come ask me to "keen-it" (clean it)

True to form Jaxon is just fucking weird about his lotion fetish...he eats it.  He's not even picky.  Perfumed lotion, body butter, generic lotion, baby lotion.... it's all his favorite.

I'm not kidding...we even have a "Lotion Story"  

I'm forever scarred by my kids freaky lotion habit..... It goes like this:

It was the 2nd week in our new house. We had just unpacked all of the boxes and were having our first guests over for dinner; Nick and Jess.  (We also had our first dusting of snow.)

The guys decided to go and pick up Mexican food for dinner.  Meanwhile, Jess and I sat around the table bull-shitting and having a few beers (this time I'm not exaggerating - I had only had 1-1/2 beers at the time of the "incident")

While we talked Lannie and Jax explored the new house and all of the added space.  They were in and out of the living room, going from playroom, to bedrooms, to living room and back again.

About 45 minutes later the guys came back with the food.  It was at this time that I called the kids to the kitchen.

Along came Lannie but no Jaxon, which isn't extremely odd. (He listens about as well as a deaf mule.)  I screamed 2 more times for him before I got irritated.  Still no Jaxon. I headed up to his room to check for him while the others checked the other rooms.  Nothing.  I was getting nervous at this point.

We checked and re-checked every freaking room in my house.  I even went outside to check for little kid prints in the snow thinking maybe he walked outside, got lost and was out wandering lost in the snow slowly freezing to death.

I was about 6 seconds away from calling 911 when I heard a laugh come the guest bathroom just off the kitchen.  It was Jess...she found Jaxon sitting behind the door EATING.FUCKING.LOTION.

I went in that damn bathroom at least 3 times and called that child's name...he never said a fucking word. He had been sitting there, behind the door peeking out at us and eating lotion for a good 25 minutes. 

Not a one time occourance either...We've found hm back there eating lotion multiple times. He's a lotion Junkie (and a jerk).

"Hi I'm Jaxon and I'm addicted to Jergens...."