The khaki one's connected to the....yellow one?

I often take to this blog to mock my Father--for whom I have great respect and admiration, mind you. He's just an easy target.

So imagine my gleeful delight when, on my last trip home, I found this little gem adhered to the dresser in what is now the guest room & formerly Kyle's room where he was fondly known to wipe his boogers on the wall as a youth. (Dad isn't my only target, people.)

Otherwise known as blog fodder GOLD, this is a real life "how to get dressed and match your clothes together" cheat sheet handwritten by my Mother for my 59 year old Father. I assure you this is all very real and I'm not making a minute of it up. My life practically writes itself.

My personal favorite is that between the two of them, they lovingly refer to it as his "Grammi-mals" sheet. Get it? Like Garanimals + Grammi (my Mom's Grandma name)? It's like they don't even need me for this stuff anymore.

The Grammi-mals paper literally lists all of his dress pants by color and the corresponding shade of shirts AND tie patterns that can and cannot be worn with each pant. If memory serves it also lists proper footwear and belt color, as well. I...I...I...I don't even know where else to go with this.

It is my new favorite of all time, and I have asked that it be willed to me upon their passing. Honestly, it's all I want.

The peer pressure of Greek yogurt.

I genuinely consider myself to be a trendy person. I like to at least know what the cool kids are up to, even if I don't actually participate in the reindeer games. (See also: Uggs, leggings & ombre hair.)

And this new cultural craze around Greek yogurt is something even I cannot ignore. So says advertising and the Internets (and we all know if the Internets say so that it MUST be true!): It's healthy! It's full of calcium! It's exotic & creamy and LOOK! John Stamos even says so!

And, seriously. If John Stamos says I should do it, I'm going to listen. Simple as that.

Let's be clear: I love, love, love the Ben & Jerry's version of Greek Yogurt. So why wouldn't I like the original gangster versions from the likes of Chobani, Fage, Oikos and other ridiculous brand names that no one in their right mind can actually pronounce? 

The quick answer? BECAUSE IT IS AWFUL.

People, I tried. I honestly did. I wanted so badly to fit in with the cool kids and have a trendy and delightful snack of Greek yogurt around 11 am, pulled from a thirty-one monogrammed lunch bag just before I performed a brisk walk around campus in my Lulu Lemon spandex and then sped off in a white Lexus SUV. But here's the thing: I don't have a thirty-one lunch bag; Greek yogurt is awful; spandex is a privilege, not a right; and damnit, I drive American and white cars are awful.

Ask the nice men and women at Kroger: I've purchased every brand, every flavor. It blows. It tastes like sour cream because it IS sour cream. With fruit. And even John Stamos can't trick me of that. Sour cream belongs on nachos, baked potatoes, tacos, chili and other savory, non-breakfast item. 

I caved to the peer pressure and look how it turned out for me. Probably $30 wasted on pretend, fruit sour cream and roughly 20 activations of my gag reflex. John Stamos? You've lied to me. I feel so very, very betrayed. It's a good thing you still have that hair and those dimples, otherwise we'd be finished. FINISHED, I tell you.

Now, back to watching 'Full House' reruns and dreaming of the good ol' days...

These exist.

*blink* *blink*

Source, etsy.

Cashmere underwear. For the low, low price of $45 EACH.

And I thought VS was pricey!

This is how I roll.

Literally.

Don't I wish! That's me in the Fiat 500 with the GUCCI interior at the North American International Auto Show. Yes, I do love my job. Most days, anyway. I also love that car, but it's very impractical for my incredibly lofty goals in life, which include becoming a raging, rampant soccer mom. Also, if Alex spilled his sippy cup juice on that buttah-like interior I would probably lose my shizz and pending Mother of the Year nomination, so we'll stick to the more family-friendly and more American Ford Edge, thankyouverylittle. But it is a hot little number, no?

I also made a new friend. We held hands like awkward 14 year-olds on a first movie date. He didn't try anything fresh on me, though, which was oddly disappointing.

I also took my VIP status to a new level by dancing with the Kia hamster like a total assmonkey in front of my boss, her boss, and basically the entire automotive industry. But I don't care. Because this? Should get me a promotion.

Click here to see the video.