Thursday, January 31, 2013

Stacks on Stacks on Stacks

Technology is totally cray. Right this very second, I am blogging from an airplane bound for Tampa, Florida. For a nominal fee of ten bucks, I have been able to Internet the entire flight. I don’t have a general theme for this blog, so you will just have to deal with my random thoughts.

I’m going to Florida for work, but managed to book a hotel right beside the mall which has a Tory Burch and a Neiman Marcus, which are unavailable to me in Pittsburgh. Yay! I really want to start planning my spring wardrobe but I am hampered by the fact that I have zero idea what is in style right now. I also would like to slim down a size (or two—yeah right) and don’t want to buy clothes if they aren’t going to fit in a couple of months.

Who am I kidding? I will just end up buying a ton of cropped yoga pants. Why ruin a good thing?

You know what I’m obsessing over right now? My bracelet stack. It all started a few months ago when I came across this photo on Rich Kids of Instagram.

If you have not checked out that Web site, you must go there immediately. It is a collection of photos that rich kids post on Instagram and it is THE BEST. Anyway, the photo inspired me to build my own stack of bracelets and I have been playing around with it for months. I tend to find little things like this to obsess over, which can be annoying but I like to think it is part of my charm. The other day I bought a bracelet at Nordstrom and sent a pic of it to my friend AR and she wrote back, “I know what you’re doing and you need to STOP!”

I agree. I need to stop but I just can’t seem to get the stack quite the way I want it, which is eclectic and effortless but completely stylish. I bought a new bracelet yesterday and if I’m not careful, I’m not going to be able to use my arm.

The captain has just indicated we are going to begin our descent, so I’m going to put away my laptop and start my anxiety attack that will last until we land safely. XOXO.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Get Your Freak On

OMG. It’s my very first giveaway on! You may remember a few weeks ago in this blog, I wrote about the very amazing beer sweater my cousin bought me for Christmas. As a result, the good people at Freaker USA have given me two beer sweaters (called Freakers) to give away to one lucky reader!

A little background about the product from the Freaker Website:

Established in 2011 and located in Wilmington, North Carolina, The Freaker quickly grew to be the global leader of preventing moist handshakes and sweaty beverages. They aren’t just selling you their fit-everything product, they’re giving you an invitation to their party; a starter kit for a new lifestyle. The Freaker isn’t a strike-at-the-wind attempt to get rich, it’s the background music to a never-ending journey. Infusing life, style and functionality into a drink insulator.

My thoughts on the Freaker:

It’s a product I never knew that I needed. In addition to being super cute, it keeps my beer cold and my hands warm. I keep it in my ski jacket so I have it handy when I’m finished on the slopes. It never loses its shape and I have even put it on a champagne bottle. Everyone gets a little jealous when I bust it out and I always know which beer is mine.

Just in time for Valentine’s Day, the lucky winner of this giveaway will receive the his and hers Freakers pictured below (clearly I am not a professional photographer). How do you win? Leave a comment below and I will use a random number generator to pick the winner. You have one week to comment. I realize this is a completely ghetto way to run this giveaway, but I couldn’t figure out the “Rafflecopter” gadget and at the end of the day, I need you peeps to start commenting on these blogs I’m faithfully writing.

So comment away and good luck!  I will announce the winner next Tuesday!  And if you don't win, you can buy yourself a Freaker here.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Warm and Fuzzy

With the exception of work, I have worn black yoga pants every day for two months. They are comfortable, slimming and most importantly, warm. It’s freezing here and all I want to do is snuggle under a blanket in my yoga pants with a hot toddy and watch the snow fall.

No exaggeration, I have eight pairs of the same pants. They are all black, with a panel at the top that sucks in your muffin top. If I could find a way to wear them to the office, I would. When I was pregnant and bought my first pair of maternity jeans with a panel that came up over my belly, I fell in love with the concept. Sure, my stomach was bigger than ever, but the panel created such a smooth silhouette. This has given me an idea. What if we took the maternity jean system in the other direction? Instead of a panel designed to grow with your belly, there was a panel made of Spanx that sucked you in? I’m fairly certain this innovation would solve 90% of my fashion emergencies. I’m busting my sewing machine out this week and starting on the first prototype. Stay tuned…

I really need to be training for the marathon but all of my regular running partners have come down with a case of the babies. The gym gets so boring and I want to get some of this cold air into my lungs. My issues with not having a steady running partner are twofold:

1. There’s nobody to hold me accountable for hitting the trail.

2. When I run by myself, I spend the whole time obsessing over whether or not a man is going to jump out of the shadows and attack me, depleting all of the energy I need to complete the run.

In an effort to stay in the same size yoga pants, I have been skiing every weekend this winter. I am extremely cautious and make a lot of turns, which results in a killer leg workout. We have been having a lot of fun on the mountain this year. Several of our friends also have toddlers and ski, so we meet at the lift and the kids chase each other down the slopes with the Daddies right behind them holding a leash, snowplowing the whole way. Now THAT’S a killer leg workout!

After skiing, we usually meet up at someone’s condo and have dinner and drinks while the kids build forts and hang out. I have known most of these winter friends since middle school and when I look around at our kids playing together, it is mind blowing. The guy I sat behind in social studies is now a father of two and here we are, talking about mortgages and automobile safety ratings.

After deeming it too cold and windy to stay out any longer yesterday, I skied over to another friend’s condo to hang out. As I sat in a theater room and watched Transformers while eating Twizzlers and drinking beer (his condo is amazing), it struck me that nothing has really changed since the 7th grade—except for the beer part. His nickname for me is “fatbacks” because I routinely wear granny panties with my yoga pants, which apparently creates unsightly panty lines. I could care less. I refuse to go commando or wear a thong. Yesterday, when I got up out of my seat to use the restroom he yelled out, “Hey Fatbacks! Grab me a beer on your way back.”

It’s moments like this that keep me warm during these long winter months.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

The Fat Partner

I have really been working some crazy long hours lately, so things on the home front have gotten a little out of control. When I walked in the door yesterday, I noticed that my house had started to resemble an episode of Hoarders. Toys and electronics were strewn everywhere and mail was piling up on the table. There was a Barbie Jeep parked in my dining room and my little robot vacuum was pouting in the corner. I half expected some random cats to start coming out of the shadows. No episode of Hoarders is complete without a bunch of cats.

Dude. I need a wife. Is this how polygamy gets started? I need a lady who will manage my household, cook for my family, clean up this mess, pay the bills and do some laundry. She would also need to be available to listen to all of my work drama and offer opinions on outfits. You know who would be perfect? Alice from the Brady Bunch, without all of the meatloaf.

Through all of the clutter, I noticed a newspaper section on the table. Not a whole paper, just a section that had been purposely pulled from the stack. Ordinarily, this would not even register on my radar screen. It was the headline that grabbed my attention:

“When one partner is overweight, resolving conflict in the relationship takes two.”

Clearly, this had been placed on the table for a reason. That Mister Fergs was way more diabolical than I had ever imagined. The article went on to make suggestions on how the fit partner in the relationship could gently goad the fatass into hitting the gym and eating salads without getting punched in the face.

Regardless of how much he has going on, Mister Fergs manages to make it to the gym almost every day. He is a picture of health and could grace the cover of Outside magazine right this very second with zero airbrushing. He is the fit partner. He will be so embarrassed when he reads this, but it’s true. He’s a hottie.

While not a total fatass, I could definitely make it to the gym more often and/or make better choices in the food department. Working lunches and mid-afternoon M&M infusions do not make you skinny. Collapsing on your couch at the end of the day due to mental exhaustion does not remove the junk from your trunk. I get it. I need to plan ahead for workout time and healthy snacks—and I will sit down and do just that…as soon as I get some time.

When he arrived home, I shoved that paper right in Mister Ferg’s face and told him that if he wanted me to slim down, he could just come out and say it. He was so horrified when he saw the headline, I had to laugh. He explained that the section was his favorite and since he didn’t have time to read the whole paper, he had pulled it out to save for later. He also added that he loved me just the way that I am. He’s as genuinely sweet as he is good looking.

Clearly, things are hectic and I either need to find us a wife or carve out some time to streamline the processes in the Ferguson household and also my life. Gummy vitamins can only do so much.  I'm going to go feed the cats.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Soda Sisters

I was recently doing some grocery shopping at Wal*Mart (so annoying, yet so cheap). I never go with a list of things we need; I just leisurely stroll through the aisles and grab things that catch my eye. Since I am the person who takes it upon herself to go to the store, I feel completely justified buying what I like. Inevitably, this leads to Mister Ferguson making a second trip to the store to round out my half-thought out purchases into actual meals.

Back to Wal*Mart. I was in the soda aisle ready to stock up on my life juice when I noticed an Amish lady reaching for the Diet Coke at the very same time. As we locked eyes, she gave me a conspiratorial grin and I thought to myself, “You know what lady? You and I aren’t very different at all.” I returned her smile, grabbed the Diet Coke and went on my way, but I couldn’t get her off of my mind. There were so many unanswered questions.

1. Is she allowed to drink Diet Coke or is this something she hides behind the barn, taking a nip or two when the old man isn’t looking? Is this her guilty pleasure?

2. Why Diet Coke and not regular? Is she figure and/or health conscious? Would I be worried about these things if I was required to wear long sleeves and skirts year round?

3. How did she find out about Diet Coke in the first place?

There’s so much to learn from others. Even though we shared a moment in the beverage section, I didn’t feel close enough to her to ask her these burning questions, so they continue to fester in my mind. I thought we might meet up again in another aisle, but as it turns out, she doesn’t share my penchant for Skittles.

I finished up my little excursion by picking up some things for Biddy’s lunch. Instead of being a sensible parent who considers things like balanced meals, whole grains and the four food groups, I am drawn to gimmicks designed to mitigate the guilt of a working parent who packs a lunch for their child to eat at daycare.

When packing lunch for Biddy, my goals are simple.

1. I want her to enjoy and actually look forward to her lunch.

2. She should have the coolest lunch in her entire class.

3. This lunch should be relatively simple to prepare.

4. She feels love pouring out of each individual package she opens.

With birthday cake flavored pudding, dinosaur chicken nuggets and cheese shaped like Mickey Mouse spilling out of my cart, I made my way to the checkout line. I busied myself texting some peeps and checking Facebook until it was my turn. Ugh, so many of you have the flu. When I swiped my credit card, it occurred to me that I had wasted an hour and a half at Wal*Mart and had absolutely no idea what I was going to make for dinner. As my eyes scanned the contents of the bags and I contemplated how I was going to pass off dinosaur nuggets as a meal, my mind wandered to my new Amish friend and how she might be killing a chicken with her bare hands for dinner. And washing that chicken down with a Diet Coke. 

Monday, January 21, 2013

Current Events

1. Catfish—A couple of weeks ago, I made a note to write about my favorite MTV show “Catfish,” and now it has been thrust into national headlines. In case you live under a rock/don’t read the news/don’t have cable, a "catfish" is a person who creates fake profiles online and pretends to be someone they are not by using someone else's pictures and information. These "catfish" use social media sites like Facebook and Twitter, usually with the intention of getting other people or a person to fall in love with them. MTV and the producers of the 2010 documentary film Catfish send Nev Schulman and his friend and filmmaker Max Joseph to help couples who have never met in real life. They want to know if the person they have had a relationship and fallen in love with is the real deal or if they are a "catfish." Some couples have been together for a few months, others have been together for years. Nev, who has fallen victim to a "catfish," claims that he has received requests from people asking him for his help in determining whether or not their online-only significant other is lying or telling the truth about their identity. Each episode is a different couple with a different story and Nev flies out to wherever they live and does background checks and research to uncover the truth. He contacts the other person to get a meeting set up so they both can meet for the first time and documents the outcome. SPOILER ALERT: The people are NEVER who they say they are. A boy turns out to be a girl, a swimsuit model turns out to be a 400 pounder…you get the idea. The show is captivating to the point you find yourself literally screaming at the television when the poor, love-sick individual is rattling off reasons why his online sweetheart has never been able to meet him in person over the course of TWO YEARS but manages to carve out several hours in a day to chat with him online. The whole scenario is so so sad, yet I cannot stop watching. In fact, my brother and I watched every episode On Demand over Christmas break and never got bored. In case you are wondering where the term “catfish” comes from, here is your answer:

When certain fish are caught and are transported in tanks, they often die because they won't swim around and keep themselves moving. Sometimes catfish are placed into these tanks with the other fish to keep them stimulated and moving around. In human terms, catfish are people who keep you on your toes.

I don’t know about you, but I have enough shit going on in my life to keep me on my toes without some Internet random adding to the chaos. Be careful, people. Catfish are everywhere, and not just online.

2. Jodi Lost—If you have been keeping up with the side pony debate from last week, you will have noticed that the polls have closed and Jodi lost by a landslide—30 to 8. She is being a good sport about it and has agreed to go down to the hair salon, get a side pony and have her photo posted here on She will look adorable and who knows?  Maybe she will change her mind about the whole thing.  Look for that in the upcoming week or so. Also thanks to all of you who voted and SPECIAL thanks to all of you who took my side.

3. Guest Blogs—I have gotten a lot of interest from readers who would like to write a guest blog for and I am MORE than happy to post your thoughts on the Internets. Maybe you’re thinking about creating a blog of your very own and want to try it out or maybe you just want to see your thoughts in print without all of the hassle of maintaining regular content. Whatever your motivation, send me a story. You can post it using your real name or a pseudonym, it’s up to you. If you’re a little uneasy about your writing skills, I will even help you edit (in all honesty, I can’t help myself). The only guideline/rule I have is to please avoid using the f-word because I’m pretty sure my Mommaw (that’s West Virginian for grandmother) reads this blog.

4. Tiddy on Facebook—Tiddy is on Facebook and I want to be your friend. I also want to be your friends’ friend, so please recommend me to anyone you know. You can find me here or search for me, as I am pretty sure I am the only Tiddy Ferguson in existence. As my friend on Facebook, you will be privy to my status updates, new blog posts and possibly giveaways (which I am currently exploring but can’t promise yet). Side note, if you have some sort of business and have something you would like to give away in a contest on, please email me here.

Monday Inspiration

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Water Into Wine

I went to mass in my ski boots this morning. Truth. In an effort to keep up with our promise to attend church on a regular basis in 2013, Mister Fergs and I have been taking Biddy to the “vacation mass” that is offered every Sunday at Seven Springs.

The service is held in an auditorium that resembles a college classroom. Priests are rotated, so you never know what you’re going to get. It ranges from a 20 minute “grab your wafer and go” to a full on hour-long mass.

Today, when we informed Biddy that we were going to church before we went skiing, she pouted and told us she didn’t want to go. I wanted to help her understand why it was important to go to church and thank God for everything he has given us. This proved to be a difficult task. How do you explain religion to a three-year-old? Right now, her idea of God is Santa Claus; the benevolent old gentleman who recently bestowed upon her a new bicycle, skis and a Barbie Jeep. These are tangible items for which she can express her gratitude. As a parent, how do you teach your children to be grateful for blessings such as health, happiness and security?

Taking her to church certainly can’t hurt, so that’s what we’re going with now. We all put on our long underwear and ski clothes and wrestled into our boots. After that whole ordeal, it occurred to me that regardless of how much I skied today, I burned roughly 300 calories dressing myself and Biddy for the day. You really, really have to be committed to taking a toddler skiing because it is extremely taxing just getting out the door and there are many opportunities to give up and back out.

We made it out the door and onto the shuttle and before we knew it, we were congregated with the Catholic skiing population of Western Pennsylvania. The priest of the day set the tone for the mass by indicating that we were going to sing and listen to a homily, so we took our coats off and settled in for the long haul.

Biddy was fascinated by the crowd and made several attempts at the sign of the cross, which made Mister Fergs and I collapse into laughter. When we got to the homily, the priest started by telling the story of Jesus turning water into wine. He went on to explain how we can use the lesson today by being patient while God turns the water in our lives to wine. I felt as though that guy was speaking directly to me. What a very simple and poignant statement.

No matter how long the mass, there is always the opportunity to shake the hand of those sitting next to you and offer a peace exchange. For some reason, every time I attend service, I start to get anxious in the minutes prior to the event and look around at the individuals I will be interacting with. Tiddy, the person who is paid a salary to interact with people, becomes completely socially awkward at the thought of shaking random hands, looking into random eyes and saying the words, “Peace be with you.” I really have no idea why I feel this way. It has nothing to do with germs.

Due to the fact it is MLK weekend and most people are enjoying a three day vacation, it was a packed house. That, coupled with the number of churchgoers awkwardly making their way down the steps in ski boots, made for an unusually long communion. As people continued to come out of the woodwork to receive their wafers (including what seemed like an entire middle school), I asked Mister Fergs what would happen if they ran out of wafers. At that very moment, we found out. The priest realized he simply did not have enough to go around and literally started breaking the wafers into 16ths. I’ve never seen anything like it! Biddy started to get all huffy and wondered why she didn’t get one so I made a mental note to bring a pack of Sweet Tarts next time and give her one of those when we take communion.

After mass, we headed out to the slopes to continue Biddy’s skiing education. It was sunny, music was in the air and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue. As we rode the ski lift to the top of the mountain together, I realized at that very moment, God was turning the water of my life into wine.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Internetting With Tiddy, Volume 2

It is a beautiful morning here in the mountains and we all just ate breakfast burritos lovingly prepared by Mister Fergs. He actually came home from the store on Wednesday with all of the ingredients for Saturday morning, so he must have really been craving a breakfast fiesta.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I am going to shimmy into my ski pants and spend the day cruising around on my new skis and boots. There are supposed to be multiple DJs on the deck at the Foggy Goggle starting at 2 pm, so you know where I will be this afternoon.

Onto this week’s obsessions:

Mint Automatic Floor Cleaner

My brother is quite possibly one of the worst gift givers I have ever met. Prior to meeting his lovely wife, he did all of his Christmas shopping at Spencer Gifts—for everyone including my Grandmother. In the past, I have received such gems as a neon license plate cover, a Will Smith cassette tape (ten years after the release of CDs) and a lava lamp. This year for Christmas, however, he totally redeemed himself with the Mint Automatic Hard Floor Cleaner. This cute little robot uses GPS to map out your house and Swiffers your floors while you eat bon-bons and watch Big Rich Texas. It is not complicated to set up or use AT ALL and does a great job. You can also put a wet Swiffer on the robot and watch Jerseylicious while you’re at it. If you’re not on my brother’s Christmas list, get yourself one here.

Vino 2 Go

What do you even say about this? A sippy cup for wine that I will take on the boat, in the car (while Mister Fergs is driving of course) and possibly even the ski slope. It’s awesome. You can find it here.

The Chocolate Money

This is a GREAT book. I love reading about rich people and their problems. I read this in a day. Amazon’s synopsis:

The Chocolate money chronicles the relationship between an impossibly rich chocolate heiress, Babs Ballentyne, and her sensitive and bookish young daughter, Bettina. Babs plays by no one’s rules: naked Christmas cards, lavish theme parties with lewd installations at her Lake Shore Drive penthouse, nocturnal visits from her married lover, who “admires her centerfold” while his wife sleeps at their nearby home.

Bettina wants nothing more than to win her mother’s affection and approval, both of which prove elusive. When she escapes to an elite New Hampshire prep school, Bettina finds that her unorthodox upbringing makes it difficult to fit in with her peers, one of whom happens to be the son of Babs’s lover. As she struggles to forge an identity apart from her mother, Bettina walks a fine line between self-preservation and self-destruction.

Order the book here.  Let me know what you think about it.

Gummy Vitamins

Vitamins are gross. You have to choke down big horse pills. If you haven’t eaten anything, they make you nauseous. I buy them, forget to take them and then they expire. I found these adult gummy vitamins at Sam’s Club a few weeks ago and now I am happy to report I am a 100% compliant vitamin taker! It is so easy to grab the individual packs on the run. There are five different gummy bears in the pack and they each contain a different vitamin. They are fun to eat, they don’t make me nauseous and taste good for vitamins. The only questionable one is the bear with the Omega-3 fish oil. He tastes like a fish-flavored gummy bear, which is quite possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever had. However, if you read about the benefits of taking a daily dose of fish oil, he doesn’t seem so bad. You can find these bears here.

Kanye West Embroidered Tweet

It’s no secret that I am a card carrying member of the Kanye West fan club. Whether you share my affection for this egomaniac or not, you have to agree he has some pretty hilarious tweets. Here are some examples:

I ordered the salmon medium instead of medium well I didn’t want to ruin the magic.

Do you know where to find marble conference tables? I’m looking to have a conference…not until I get the table though.

Man…ninjas are kind of cool…I just don’t know any personally .

On Etsy, you can pick your favorite Kanye West tweet and have it embroidered. Yes, this is sitting on my desk at work. To get your own, you can click here.

Enough Internetting.  We're burning daylight and it's time get out and enjoy this winter sunshine.  In the very wise words of R. Kelly, "It's the freakin weekend baby, I'm about to have me some fun."  Go out and have you some fun.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Craft Porn Volume 2

I needed an idea for dinner tonight, so I decided to raid my Aunt’s Pinterest board. Aunt Shirley is our family’s own little Martha Stewart so I knew that she would have some great ideas on there.  I was not disapointed.

When I came across “Cracker Barrel Chicken and Dumplings,” I didn’t have to look any further. Growing up in Southern West Virginia, chicken and dumplings was a staple and has always been at the top of my favorite foods list. What better meal to serve my family on a chilly January evening?

As I scanned the recipe, my eyes went to this photo of ingredients immediately.

Ummm, I needed to roast a chicken and also make dumpling dough?

Ugh. Dilemma! My heart was set on chicken and dumplings but this was WAY too much work. WTF is the number for Cracker Barrel? I rummaged around my cabinets for ingredients to throw something together. This is what I came up with. Busy lady chicken and dumplings.

Chicken broth, chicken gravy, some shredded chicken and a couple of cans of biscuits. Stop judging me for using generic products. I threw the chicken, broth, gravy and salt and pepper into the Crock Pot in the morning. When I got home from work, I took the biscuit dough, rolled it out and cut it into flat, rectangle dumpling noodles with a pizza cutter. I dropped those into the boiling soup and waited 30 minutes for them to cook properly. When it was ready to serve, I spooned it into bowls and ground some fresh pepper over it to make it look fancy. Success! Just like being at the Cracker Barrel. All that’s missing is that little golf tee intelligence test on the table.  Pinterest example is on the left, mine is on the right in the Chinet bowl.

1.  So easy a caveman could do it.
2.  You might already have the ingredients (who am I kidding, I am the only jackass who keeps cans of   biscuits on hand).
3.  It’s really, really good.
4.  It is only 250 calories. 300 if you really go for it.

1.  Not a damn thing.

Because I am an angel and my BFFFFF Mark (important attorney) has been wrapped up in a trial for days, I did a little “Meals on Wheels” mission and drove some chicken and dumplings over for his lovely family to enjoy.  I hate it when Mark is busy at trial because he is completely unavailable to listen to me pratter on about diet and exercise, rap music and ridiculous status updates from mutual Facebook friends.

Mark and his wife Jenny are the biggest foodies on the planet.  I hate that word.  They have the Food Network on at their house all of time.  They have fancy tools to hand cut french fries and cook with things like Kosher salt.  I don't cook for them often because it is pointless and none of the ghetto recipes I am whipping up in my kitchen are going to impress them.  Following are their reviews of the chicken and dumplings:

Mark:  Very good and hearty!
Jenny:  The chicken and dumplings was the ultimate comfort food!  Just needed a little more seasoning...salt!  Or maybe I'm just a salt head!

See what I mean about the Kosher salt?

So maybe you’re not busy, maybe you’re just lazy. Or you don’t know how to roast a chicken. Either way, this recipe is for you. I wish there was a whole cookbook of recipes like this. There probably is. If you know about one, tell me about it.

I’m still going to make the gummy bears. I just needed to make dinner for my family and this was a way to kill two birds with one stone. If you have a pin you would like me to try, email it to me here.

Toddling with Tiddy

The following is a very accurate depiction of life with an almost three year old daughter.


Monday, January 14, 2013

Grinding Out My Issues

I have a ton of stressful shit going on in my professional life right now. And despite all of the wise, sage advice I have been doling out on this blog lately, I am failing miserably at heeding my own words.

This stress has been manifesting itself in a physical way. Last weekend, Mister Fergs, Biddy and I went to Seven Springs to ski and hang out with our friends. Everything was great. Biddy was having a blast, skiing her little heart out. The weather was warm and lovely. I woke up early Saturday morning and got caught up on work email. It was all shaping up to be an epic weekend…

I tend to process stress in a very sneaky way. I convince myself that I’m living in the moment and having an amazing time, and consciously, I usually am. However, there is always a big pot of stress simmering on the burner in the back of my mind. The laundry I didn’t fold and put away before we left home, the meetings I didn’t schedule Friday afternoon for the following week, uncertainty about my position at work. These things mix together, cooking all day until they boil over and appear as a surprise anxiety attack or even worse—what happened on Saturday night.

Mister Fergs and I had a few cocktails went to bed around ten pm. Apparently, I started grinding my teeth at some point while I was sleeping. This is a bad habit I have had since I was little. I don’t do it every night, just when I’m under significant stress. The grinding was so intense last Saturday night, I actually shattered my back tooth. Needless to say, I woke up at 2:30 am with intense pain in my lower right jaw.

You have most likely experienced tooth pain at least once in your life. It is so excruciating and certainly not a welcome wake up call. I immediately started rummaging through the condo for some Advil, which I make sure is always in ample supply. I figured four tablets would do the trick and I would be pain free and back to sleep in a half hour.

In a cruel twist of fate, my alcoholic friends had taken all of the Advil and all that remained was an empty bottle. I ran through my available options. Coping with the pain was not one of them. I could get into the car and drive ten miles to the closest gas station. I could walk up to my friends’ nearby condo, wake them up and see if they had any. Pulling the tooth also crossed my mind.  This drastic measure sounds ridiculous but totally made sense to me at the time.

Before setting off in the dark night, I did one last sweep of the condo just in case I missed a bottle somewhere. When I opened the medicine cabinet again, I spied Biddy’s toddler Advil and a light went off in my head. This could work.

Toddler Advil is the color of a blue raspberry Slush Puppy. If you spend a lot of time in gas stations, you know what I’m talking about. Biddy always willingly slurps it down and asks for more so I always assumed it tasted like candy. As I stood at the bathroom sink, doing Advil shooters, one after the other, I seriously started questioning my daughter’s taste buds.

As a person who once counted Jagermeister as her shot of choice, I feel as though I’m pretty hardcore. However, it took everything I had to keep this bright blue, sickly sweet liquid down. Good God, it was nasty. Sheer determination to rid myself of the pain got me through the ordeal. With my iPad to distract me, I sat down on the couch and proceeded to surf Pinterest while I waited for relief.

What I had not realized was the Advil I had taken was liquid so it seemed to take effect much sooner than I am used to. I high-fived myself for my resourcefulness and finally fell back to sleep.

What did I learn from this ordeal?

1. I have not conquered my anxiety issues. Need some work in this area.

2. Advil in liquid form for adults is a great idea.

3. Probably time to take the dentist up on that mouth guard he has been pushing.

4. We need more Advil at the condo.

It’s January 14th and despite my New Year’s declarations, my crazies are still acting up. However, I’m encouraged by the fact we are only two weeks into 2013.  I'm not going to change overnight.

Thank God I signed up for dental insurance this year.

Monday Inspiration

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Pony Tales

The challenge of having your very own blog is trying to come up with subjects to write about. What are you mofos going to find interesting? I can only write so many posts about poop and champagne.

I really enjoy getting texts and emails from my friends and readers with topics they want me to tackle. The latest is a text I received from my best friend Jodi. The following is a transcript of the conversation:

Jodi: Poss Tiddy post. Side pony tails. I feel this should not occur in women over…say 28

Tiddy: Dude. I wore one to work yesterday. Lol.
Tiddy: It was a low side pony?

Jodi: In my humble opinion, both low and high. You should do a survey, have people vote on    the appropriateness?

Tiddy: Lol I am going to write about this and also include a photo of my low side pony which makes me look stylish and adorable.

Jodi: (sends this pic)

Tiddy: That’s not how I wear it.
Jodi: Haaaaaaaa. Can’t wait to hear feedback.

Background info: Jodi and I went to high school together and we were college roommates. When I say college roommates, I mean we lived in the same bedroom together for four years. We have shared clothes, money, underwear and Lord knows what else. She is the Godmother of my child and the closest thing I have ever had to a sister. We are as different as day and night, which is probably why we get along so well. Needless to say, I was not offended in the least when she started ripping on my side pony. She can suck it.

My justification for a side pony:

1. My hairline totally sucks. It is like a bad version of J-Lo’s hairline—baby hairs, bald spots, uneven. It is my cross to bear. By rocking the side pony, I can sweep my bangs over this whole nightmare and nobody knows about my dirty little secret.

2. Sometimes I don’t feel like washing my hair, yet it is too dirty/greasy to wear down. Side pony! Instant glamour! She’s not gross, she’s well-groomed and so put together!

3. I miss the 80s and it is a way for me to relive my Barbie and the Rockers/Girls Just Want to Have Fun phase.

Below you will find an example of my elegant side pony.  I would also like to point out that when this photo was posted on Facebook, Jodi publicly commented, "Sooooooo pretty."

It is up to you, stylish readers, to weigh in on this little difference of opinion. Could you please take a moment to cast your vote on this very important issue? You will find the survey on the side of this blog.  I will leave it up for one week and Jodi and I will discuss the results once they in.  Let your voice be heard.

Puppy Love

This is my dog Nacho. He’s a twenty pound Yorkie with devastating good looks and a shitty attitude. Shortly after Mister Fergs and I got married, I had an overwhelming urge to take care of something. In retrospect, my biological alarm clock was ringing, and getting a dog was my way of hitting the snooze button.

For months, I poured over newspaper ads, Craigslist and breeder Websites searching for a little Yorkie I could call my very own. This little guy was going to go everywhere with me and would have the best doggie outfits and bones money could buy. He would only eat dog food specially formulated for Yorkies and be squired around town in an elaborate handbag with obnoxious logos plastered all over it. At this time, I was in my twenties and was significantly more self involved and out of touch with reality than my 35 year old self is today.

Mister Fergs never had a dog growing up and was not all about welcoming this furry creature into our home. He was understandably apprehensive about the whole situation and brought up good, cerebral points about how a new pet was going to impact our lifestyle. We would have to feed it, walk it and find someone to watch it when we went away, which was frequently. The dog would have to be potty trained and groomed regularly.

“Not a problem,” I assured him. “I will take care of everything. I grew up with dogs and I know all about them. You won’t have to lift a finger.” He still wasn’t sold. Eventually, after weeks and weeks of pleading, crying and full on tantrums, he acquiesced. We were getting the dog.

It happened on a Sunday afternoon. I had contacted a breeder about 20 miles from our home and she had one boy left. He was on the bigger side, she explained, so she would knock a hundred bucks off of the price. Instead of having us drive all the way out to her “farm,” she would just meet us in the parking lot at Chuck E Cheese. First red flag.

We pulled up in the parking lot and Mister Fergs wasn't talking at all. I was doing everything I could to distract him from the situation—playing a new CD I had just gotten, talking about the weather. It wasn’t working. He was a man who was resigned to his fate and he didn’t like it.

The breeder was late and we were ready to pull away and forget the whole thing when she pulled up in a car held together with duct tape with smoke pouring out of it. Second red flag. She emerged holding an adorable mild mannered puppy that smelled like a pack of Marlboro Reds. That was it. I had to rescue this little guy from a raging nicotine habit and an inevitable case of canine lung cancer. She showed us the dog’s papers detailing his pedigree and certification from some random kennel club. They had a dirty footprint on them. Third red flag.

Mister Fergs reluctantly peeled some cash out of his wallet and just like that, we were dog owners. We drove straight to Pet Smart to buy Nacho all of the things he would need to be comfortable in our home—food, cage, bowls, bones and puppy pee pads. As we were perusing the aisles, a seemingly nice woman came up to us and said, “What a cute little puppy!” and started to pet him.

Mister Fergs, beaming with pride, replied, “Yes! We just got him!” I was so relieved that he was starting to get excited about the dog. At that point, the woman started screaming at him. “Just so you know, your dog is full of worms. These breeders use cheap wormers and they don’t work and that puppy’s insides are just crawling with worms.”

I thought he was going to vomit right then and there, and to be honest, I wasn’t far behind.

We made it home and settled into life with a puppy. And it sucked. I will honestly say it was worse than having a newborn. He peed and pooped all over the floor. He barked at Mister Ferguson incessantly. He chewed up all of my favorite shoes and ripped those puppy pee pads to shreds. He kept getting bigger and bigger and busted out of that doggie handbag at record speed. When I took him to the vet recently, she asked what kind of dog he was. I said, “He’s a purebread Yorkie. I have his papers right here!”

She looked at me, laughed and said, “You know these are just computer printouts. Anyone with Microsoft Word can make them.”

All of the hopes I had for this adorable, tiny constant puppy companion were shattered. Yet, despite his flaws and his rakish lazy ear, we love him to pieces. Even Mister Ferguson has come around.

Nacho has been a part of our lives for six years now. He has bonded with our daughter and waits outside of her door every morning until she wakes up. He loves to fish and chew on Dingo bones. He hates the mailman with a passion and I am confident he would rip his face off given the opportunity. He is significantly more high maintenance than my toddler.

Although we don’t dote on him nearly as much as we did pre-baby, we still adore him. He doesn’t get special Yorkie food anymore, he eats Beneful from the grocery store. In fact, I haven’t set foot in a Pet Smart in years. We try to keep him stocked with bones and take him on walks when it isn’t snowing or raining like crazy.

Unfortunately, Nacho has recently developed a case of halitosis in his older age. It’s awful. It smells like he has been eating shit sandwiches. After a few cocktails the other night, Mister Fergs and I decided we were going to brush his teeth. I held his face, while Mister Fergs played doggie dentist. Bad idea. It was a mess, Nacho was pissed and his breath still stinks. I’m making him an appointment this week and leaving that job to the professionals.

In hindsight, purchasing a puppy in a Chuck E Cheese parking lot wasn't a great idea, but it happened and I wouldn't trade my big-boned, bad-breathed, high maintenance "Yorkie" for anything.  He is, however, the one and only dog this family will have.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Internetting With Tiddy Volume 1

The Internet never ceases to amaze me, and neither do you!  A few of my friends decided to post on Facebook and Pinterest yesterday and this little blog saw more traffic than ever!  It was so successful that I shamelessly made my two favorite Aunts post it this morning. 

Seriously, thank you from the bottom of my heart for posting and recommending it to your friends.  I love you, I love your support and I love writing to you on this blog.

Another thing I love is mindless Internetting.  Today I am starting a new series of weekly blog posts in which I share with you the best things I have come across on the Web.  Since this will be a regular thing, I welcome any suggestions you have!

Fun Websites to Check Out When You’re Bored and Want to Laugh

STFU Parents
Happy Place
Girls Above Me

Great iPhone App

Running with GPS has really taken the mystery out of training for long distance runs. Now you know exactly how far you’ve gone, how fast you’ve run and how many calories you burned. Turns out my guesstimating was way off! A few years ago, I got a very bulky and complicated GPS watch that I adored until I came across this app. It takes care of business while letting me listen to hardcore gangster rap on Pandora, politely interrupting Rick Ross to let me know when each mile is up. The app is called Run Keeper and you can read about it here.

Inappropriate But Hilarious Gift

This is terrible, terrible, terrible but made me laugh so hard I bought ten of them to hand out to various friends who share the same twisted sense of humor. You can buy it here.

A Product You Didn’t Know You Needed

My cousin bought this for me for Christmas and I am seriously in love. I busted out my new beer sweater at the ski lodge last weekend and it blew everyone’s mind. It is cute, never loses its shape and is a great way to keep track of your beer. They have a ton of great designs and you can buy them here.

Life-Changing Beauty Product

I was hanging out with my friend Jenny drinking champagne and watching infomercials recently when we came across the concept of airbrush makeup. Lucky for you, we did a bunch of research and found the most affordable and effective system available. I know it seems intimidating and complicated, but it is not. We were both airbrushing competently within five minutes of opening our packages. Not only is it quick and easy, it makes your skin look flawless and even reduces the appearance of wrinkles. There are many different systems available, but we recommend “Tickled Pink.” You can find it here.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Work Smart

I flew on my company’s plane to a meeting yesterday. I write this for two reasons:

1. To shamelessly point out how glamorous my life is, and

2. I still can’t believe it myself and putting it in writing makes it seem more real to me.

Nothing makes you feel like a pimp like flying on a private plane. You drive right up on the tarmac and board. There’s no security, taking your shoes off, waiting in lines. You just walk right on, buckle your seat belt and it takes off. They don’t even tell you to turn off your electronic devices. The whole affair is totally gangster and makes you not want to fly commercial ever again.

This is not the first time I have flown on the plane, but the novelty still has not worn off. It’s not a Lear jet or anything, but every time I get on I feel a lot like P. Diddy. Since I am always flying with co-workers, I have to resist the urge to drape myself in obnoxious outfits and huge sunglasses to really maximize the experience. It is sooooooo hard, but I manage.

Since committing to this career as a professional geisha, I have really been working my beav off. Sometimes (not always), hard work is rewarded with more difficult, interesting work and if you’re like me, that’s the kind of shit that keeps you going. Getting up at 5:30 am to do emails and get organized for the day really sucks sometimes, but I’m starting to see the benefits. My boss, who I could write a ten page blog about and probably will one day, is a very supportive and colorful individual who definitely makes my work days exciting and fun. My favorite is when we hang up on a phone call and he reminds me to “shit it and get it.” I’m not sure how we found each other, but it is a work relationship made in heaven.

I have been a working girl for more than 14 years now and have had about 14 different jobs and five careers. All of this hustling has exposed me to crazy bosses, nutty coworkers, lifelong friends and hard lessons. Sometimes work can seem a lot like an episode of Survivor, and you need to be in it to win it.

1. Always be Yourself. This is such a trite little statement, but hear me out. I have a huge complex about not being taken seriously at work. This could be in my head or reality—I haven’t figured it out yet. I like to wear elaborate outfits and high, high heels and jewelry to work. I’m blonde and I laugh a lot. Lately I have been looking a lot like a character straight out of Dallas. Not exactly serious career woman material. However, I refuse to shrink myself to fit into that mold. I’m different and that’s a good thing. Pretending to be someone you’re not is exhausting. Plus, how are you going to stand out if you look and act like everyone else? Sometimes I feel like I have to work harder to prove myself, but at least I’m being myself.

2. Don’t be a Jealous Shrew. The lady who is always sniveling and whispering about people sleeping their way to the top is not who you want to be. Act genuinely happy about the success of others around you—even if it kills you. You’re not always going to be the shining star and you’re not always going to get what you want. Get over it. Constantly complaining and whining makes you look like a douche and also really minimizes your chance at being promoted into management.

3. Mind Your Own Business. Gossip is fantastic—until it is about you. If your co-workers want to grope each other or the lady from billing is eating people’s sandwiches, it’s not bothering you (unless it is your sandwich). Talking about people’s shortcomings can temporarily make you feel better about your own, but you don’t want people only hanging around you because you have the latest gossip.

4. Pay Attention. Pretend every person at work is wearing a sign around their neck that says, “Make me feel important.” Call people by their names, remember their kids’ names and be fascinated by the crossword puzzle competition they participated in last weekend. It doesn’t matter if it is the CEO of the company or the guy who fixes your computer, a little attention goes a long way. Plus, when your computer gets a virus because you tried to watch the Hulk Hogan sex tape online, you will want that computer guy to be discreet.

5. Have fun. At the end of the day, you spend a large portion of your life at work. You may as well find a way to enjoy it. Surround yourself with positive coworkers that make you laugh and don’t take things too seriously. This is a hard lesson to learn, and I am still getting there. Work is just work and if you hate your job, look for a new one.

When Mister Ferguson read my blog the other day and said, “Wow! Tiddy is really dark this year,” I suppose he had a point. I’m sure it has been apparent to all of you dear readers that my usually light hearted blog posts have been hijacked by some deep-thinking, self-help lady. What can I say? Sometimes you take a look at your life and realize things have to change. Writing to all of you is like therapy to me and I love all of the text messages, emails and phone calls I get from you to discuss your thoughts on subjects I write about.  If we don't know each other personally, you can email me here.

Before I sign off, I have to reveal a serious blog crush I have going on right now. I’m always looking for blogs to follow that make me laugh and this one literally kills me. I actually sent the writer a fan email and she responded, which made me feel like I was 12 years old and I was hearing from Donnie Wahlberg himself. Anyway, you should check out her blog called “Bitches Gotta Eat” here. I knew I was going to love it when I saw the heading –“Tacos. Hot dudes. Diarrhea. Jams.” Completely sums up my college years.