Berlyn’s New Drug

Cinderella. Holy Shit. The girl is addicted.

She watched it for the first time a few weeks ago, and it held her attention for approximately 22 minutes. So I didn’t think anything of it when I popped it into her overnight bag when she stayed at her grandparents’ the weekend Pat and I went out of town. Well, that was apparently when the obsession started.
Perhaps, it was because we were away, and she was looking for a little enchantment to fill the void of absent parents, or maybe she was just bored, but whatever it was, she came home with with a new obsession.

Now she carries around the Cinderella DVD case all day long. Seriously, the girl carries around a DVD case! Who does that? It goes wherever she goes, and she insists on watching the movie several times a day. Well, crap, I’m not the kind of mother that sits her child in front of the T.V. all day, so I of course limit her viewing to once-ish a day, but you’d think her brains were on fire when I tell her she cannot watch it when she is at the park, or in the car, or laying in her bed.
The obsession continued as of last night, when her best friend, Cailey Bea came with a Christmas gift for Berlyn. Well, wouldn’t you know, it was a Cinderella figurine set.

Now the Cinderella mania is heightened to a new degree of craze: She lines up all the dolls in compulsive lines and then picks up each one and has a conversation with them, before placing it back down in the same exact spot she retrieved it from. It’s all very neurotic, but the fact that she’s not even 2 makes it dismissible. I suppose if she is still doing it at 23, then we might have an issue.

Island Critters

Here are some animals we saw while in Key West:

We found this giant lizard-dinosaur creature in the top of a tree. We thought we were going to die, but we narrowly escaped.

We found this giant lizard-dinosaur creature in the top of a tree. We thought we were going to die, but we narrowly escaped.

There were lots of chickens

There were lots of chickens

This butterfly gave me the evie-geevies

This butterfly gave me the evie-geevies

This butterfly matched my shoe

This butterfly matched my shoe



I was rescuing this cuddly little caterpillar from going into oncoming traffic, he rewarded my attempts by biting my finger. Ass hole.

I was rescuing this cuddly little caterpillar from going into oncoming traffic, he rewarded my attempts by biting my finger. Ass hole.

Amanda and I fell in love with this sweet little lobster. He was precious.

Amanda and I fell in love with this sweet little lobster. He was precious.

Get out of my house!

We have an ant problem. First they were living outside, and that was fine. Well, kinda fine, as long as you didn’t mind opening the ant infested latch on our gate when you came over, which would involuntarily make you do the itchy, creepy-crawlie dance at my front porch, which would force me to mock and laugh at you, but then you’d point out that you just burned 68 calories, and say, ‘who’s laughing now, bitch?’ And I’d shrug, and let you in.

But, back to the ants; we didn’t bother them too much, and they didn’t bother us…until now.
It’s been raining, and apparently ants need to grow a pair because they don’t like being wet. And they’re all coming through the front door, and scavenging all of our crumbs. Now I have to vacuum, and clean stuff, and these ants better leave soon, because I don’t want to do more chores than I have to.

my Key West trip

Cast of Characters:

My Grandma,

my husband, my mom, Amanda (Jason’s girlfriend), and Jason, my brother

Our intent was to watch my cousin get married:

Mission Accomplished.

Here’s what else we did:

I did not realize that Key West isn’t a beach town, but a town where people from Minnesota get really shit faced and stumble around sloshing their alcohol (there’s no open container law), and embarrassing themselves. Needless to say, I was scared, especially of all the sloshing, I don’t want to get sloshed on. Ew.

I had key lime pie

We went to the butterfly conservatory. I found that once you stifled your innate desire to swat all the butterflies with your handbag, and scream, “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!!”¬† it was quite tranquil and soothing.

So much so, that my mom got overly sentimental.

We went to Erenst Hemingway’s old House. He lived in Key West for a while and wrote a lot of books. The crazy thing about the house is that there are 49 cats living there, and about half of them have 6 toes, because they’re decedents of Hemingway’s cat who had 6 toes. And I think it’s all a little wacky.

We rode bikes around the small island. And in order for my ears not to burn, shrivel up, and fall off, I had to ride my bike  looking like this:

I also realized that my ass separates into two fascinating consistencies when I sit on a bike. I think it’s the ass muscle separating from the ass fat, but I can’t be sure, and I ‘m almost positive my ass has no muscle.

Then Amanda and I bonded over our love of farts:

How cute are these undies? They say “Farting is my way of saying I love you” and “Don’t follow me, I just let out A BIG ONE!” and my personal favorite, “I Love to Fart”

Don’t worry, I bought a pair for each and every one of you.


In my feverish attempts to have a new blog post up before I leave for Key West, I’ve enlisted in the help of my husband:
Pat: Er, um…hi Beckey’s blog.

Me: So honey pants, are you looking forward to some fantastic days in Florida? I’ve never been, so I’m picturing alligators, old ladies wearing neon visors and track suits that make a swishy sound, orange juice, and sticky palm trees, am I close?

Pat: No. Think Cubans (people & cigars), Mai Tais, and lots of sarongs.

Me: So what you’re saying is, I’m going to get so drunk off Mai Tais that I’ll end up with a Cuban boyfriend named Desi who wears a sarong, and acquire a cigar smoking habit? Jeepers, that sounds like fun times.

Pat: Perhaps you’re mixing up Samoans in sarongs with Cubans in sarongs. All of the Cubans in my imagination wear white 3-piece suits, excellent straw hats, a nice pair of Persols, and drive old Mercedez-Benzes. It sounds like a pretty nice life now that I think about it. Maybe I should consider a nationality-switch.

Me: Okay, you become Cuban, but without all the communist stuff, and I’ll be French without all the negelecting of the arm pit hairs, and we can jump in our space ship and eat cotton candy while singing David Bowe songs about love and labrinths.

Pat: This conversation is going exactly where I expected. I mean, honestly, who can think about Key West and NOT think about David Bowe and arm pit hairs? Seriously though Beck, you should probably put the cola down and go to bed. I think you’re delirious.

Me: nightty night internets. I love each and every one of yous. Mmm cola…

I finished my Book

Last post about Twilight, I swear:

I was finally able to peel my steely grasp from the Twilight novel last night, because I finished it. Yup, and when I finished it I threw it across the room. Partly because hurling a book out into the room is fun, and it scares the dog, not to mention your husband, especially as he considers your mental health. It only took 2 days, 2 days of walking around in a trance of vampires and sexy, icy cold embraces. But for those of you who are like above books about vampires and high schoolers, and some crap, I’ve decided to paraphrase for you:

This girl Bella moves to Washington to live with her dad, and then she meets a sexy man who wants to suck her blood.

And she’s all, “um whatever, I don’t really care. Suck my blood if you must, but just so you know, I’d rather just stare at you and touch your man parts.”

I mean, who wouldn’t?

Then they fall in love with each other, and he doesn’t eat her. He restrains himself, and I think, ‘what happens when she gets her period? Does she have to sit in a cave for 5 to 7 days under a heap of potato sacks to make sure she doesn’t release her scent to her sexy new blood thirsty boyfriend?’ I’m just saying. I think I should write a note to the author about that.

But then they meet a bad vampire who wants to suck her blood and her boyfriend is all, “oh no you didn’t, she’s mine!” And it’s really really sweet. And it makes you think, gosh, why can’t I find a man who loves me enough not to suck my blood, and will protect me from other men that do want to suck my blood? Is that too much to ask??

And then he takes her to the prom, because he’s cool like that. The End.

*all photos from google images


So, after about nine months of crumpled up depictions of peacocks, color swatches strewn about my living room, and wondering if the word ‘hippo’ makes me sound fat, it’s finally here: My newly designed website!!

Thanks Normalcy design, aka, my sexy husband for making me a new website. You’re a doll.

How cute is it? Can you stand all the cuteness? Please tell me that you love it long time and that you want to stay forever clicking my new ads and pilfering through my blog roll. Oh, and if you’re not on my blog roll and you want to be, email me, and I’ll think about it, make you sing me a song, and demand that you bake me a cake, with chocolate sprinkles. It’s a small price, really.

So, stay a while. Get cozy, and oogle at my snappy graphics, and my almost whitty attempts at getting you to chortle. It will be fun. I promise.

Love yas!


My Family

How amazing is this photo? Berlyn looks incredibly enthusiastic. But little does she know that that hot dress she’s wearing belonged to me. I wore it when I was 18 months old in a hanous photograph where I was holding a teddy bear and looking forelorn, much like Berlyn does here.

Marc by Marc Stroller

To say I’m obsessed with Marc Jacobs, would be an understatement. This has been going on for a good 7 or 8 years. I used to stare longingly at his clothes and wish they were all mine, but over the years I have acquired quite a measurable collection of his garments, bags, shoes, and various chotchkies. He has such a quirky way with detail and chooses such whimsical fabrics. I just love it all.

And then I saw this:

A special edition Bugaboo stroller tattooed in exclusive Marc by Marc Jacobs fabric!! My jaw hit the floor when I saw the image on my computer screen, and I started thinking up ways to justify the purchase…
It’s only 1,500 dollars. I just won’t eat, drive, or leave the house for 67 days.
But then I read more about the stroller, and found out that they only made 15. And they were all sold. RATS!

Well, since I’m not in the market for a new stroller, I took the devastating news in stride, and the bright side is, I can eat!

Here are some other “designer strollers” on the market, that don’t come with all the exclusivity and hype of the Marc Jacbos stroller.

Juicy Couture:

Kate Spade:

…and Burberry:

I won’t be mad at you for thinking that I’m a totally ridiculous nut-job of a girl for even considering a $1,500 designer stroller, because inside somewhere, I’m mad at myself too…