It started here:

She left this comment on one of her pictures after I left a comment that was perfectly acceptable and nice. Crazy chick attacks me saying I’m a bitch and that she’s going to block me. I mean, really?!?

Then, later in the same day, this pops up on another person’s picture:

I think that comment confirms that she is totally nuts. Like the kind of nuts that requires professional help. I think the safest bet in dealing with this Slynnro is to just back away from her. Not acknowledge any of her crazy ass comments, not mention the fact that she’s bat-shit insane, and if I ever see her in person, not make eye contact. I think that this is the best course of action.

Also, I’m totally cute, right?

Can anyone explain to me why it is that I run and try my best to practice portion control and I can’t lose weight, yet jparks does the wii fit for 10 to 20 minutes a day and manages to lose weight at a steady rate?

Why is it hot in the Bay Area in November? I have sweaters I need to wear, dammit.

I need a pedicure, but running has turned some of my toenails black (not all black, just a black spot) ((also, toenails, barf)). Do I need to continue to wait for the pedicure because if I go now the little asian ladies will talk about me in asian whispers? Or can I just go and get the damn pedicure?

Why is it that everything I wanted to buy jparks for Christmas he has bought for himself, or been given as a gift, this week?

Why is my face breaking out like I’m 14 all over again? Was I not punished enough my first run through puberty? Do I really need to go through it again?

I have no reason to wear a fancy dress this holiday season. Anyone want to take me out so I can get dressed up? I promise to wear cute shoes and I’m an excellent date for company holiday parties.

Does anyone have a favorite rum ball recipe? mmm, rum balls.

And since I’m not one to stop when something can be done bigger, I’m going back to Target and getting more lights for the porch. All that’s left is for me to figure out how you attach the lights to exterior walls without nails or hooks. Duct tape or is that a bit trashy? If it is, I’m going all out and am buying the teal or neon orange duct tape. Why be a little trashy when you can go full trailer park?

I know this looks doesn’t look like much, but it’s the first picture of our first Christmas without going back to New Orleans. And if things keep going this way, I’m not so sure it’s going to suck as much as I was expecting.

Hello world, I’m Regan and I have a total mascara addiction. I can’t see a mascara and not feel compelled to buy it. And it doesn’t help that I haven’t found a mascara that I’m willing to commit to yet. I’ve found some that I like a whole lot and am even willing to buy more than once (as you can tell from the 4 tubes of Lash Exact), but I just keep thinking that there has to be a better one out there.

And since I know you’re really dying to know what I think about these, here goes, from left to right:

If I had to pick, I would continue to buy the Lash Exact as my drugstore brand and the Too Faced as my expensive brand. I really want to try this one, but $34 for mascara is a bit painful. Has anyone tried it? Am I missing out? Is it awesome? Tell me it’s horrible, please.

Turns out jparks had a life or something during the 90’s and didn’t watch Saturday Night Live. He has never heard of most of my favorite sketches and seriously, HOW?!!?. When I mentioned living in a van down by the river, no response. How does anyone over the age of 25 not know who Matt Foley is? I didn’t ask if he knows who Philip the Hyper Hypo or Simon are because I don’t want to know the answer.

I really think his ignorance of SNL in the 90’s might be grounds for divorce. So, to avoid that, let’s educate him:

You can find more over here, but unfortunately not Crazy Pickle Arm. Bonus points to anyone that can find it online for me.

I just don’t understand when I got too old to be out past midnight and drink beer. Life is really fucking unfair.

And since it’s 7:30, I should probably go to bed.

And I’m wearing my kick ass boots for it, with my kick ass purple tights

And I’m taking jparks to eat at ‘wichcraft before the show, which is the best sandwich place in SF (It’s the only sandwich place I’ve been to in SF, but whatever, it’s really good).

Girls on the Run is a program that builds confidence through non-competitive running programs for girls aged 8 to 13. The girls do weekly training runs with a coach and eventually run either a 1 mile or 5k Lollipop Run. My roll with this organization is to be a running buddy, someone that joins the girls for one of their training runs and for their Lollipop Run to encourage them to do their best and have fun while participating. I signed up without really thinking what encouraging an 8 year old would mean or taking into account that I tend to run more along the lines of smartass rather than cheerleader.

Today was my training run and after wandering around the elementary school feeling an awful lot like a creeper, I found the track and joined the group for warmups. After that the girls were divided between the running buddies and we were told to hit the track at whatever pace was comfortable for the kids. My two girls and I were about to set off when the coach came over and informed me that my girls, they couldn’t run. And is that okay with me? Would I mind walking with them for the next hour? I think I might have scared the coach with my overly enthusiastic “Walking is great!” response and with that we were off.

For the next hour we walked around the track and talked about our pets and I told them about my marathon to which they replied “Whoa, you’re crazy!” This little thing that I was dreading was actually (surprisingly) a lot of fun. They didn’t need much encouragement, other than the occasional “Do you want to run for the next little bit? Yes? Wow, go you!” The rest of the girls were sprinting around the track at breakneck speeds, while the other running buddies did whatever they could to keep up and not have a heart attack, but me and my girls were just strolling.

In the end all the other girls did 14 laps while we did 8, but we had just as much fun as them. My girls were really proud of their laps and I was really proud when they asked me which high school I attend. If I had known volunteering was so good for my self esteem (high school!) I would have signed up to be a running buddy months ago.

See, jparks and I have been going back and forth for a couple of months now about moving me from wordpress to blogger. The fight usually goes like this:

jparks: “Wordpress sucks my balls! I’m moving you to blogger!”
me: “Suck your own balls! I’m not moving to blogger!”
jparks: “Fine, then I’m not helping you with your blog anymore. Deal with it yourself!”
me: “Sounds better than moving to blogger!”

(we are mature)

But then something goes wrong, like my blog going AWOL, and I have to beg him to help me. You might have noticed that I recently uploaded a new template and somethings haven’t worked since then. Like links to other blogs or the list of books I’ve read recently (both highly exciting I tell you). They don’t work because I have no idea how to fix them. Also, the font on the site is tiny and makes my head hurt but I have to suck it up because my husband is cruel and will not fix it for me.

Jparks recently moved his blog over to blogger and won’t shut up about how much easier the upkeep is. I’ve recently purchased a crapload of new domains and jparks created them on the blogger platform (which I didn’t realize he was doing when I bought them. sneaky bastard) but I’m holding out for Formation of Me. Wordpress might not be the best platform out there, but it works for me, so why change? Moving to blogger is not a change I can believe in.

And until I hire someone to do the behind the scenes work for me, the font will be tiny and you’ll have no idea what blogs I read. I know this leaves you feeling empty inside and for that I blame jparks, the wordpress intolerant bastard.

Tonight I went and bought him a sugar and cream set and when I gave it to him this came out of his mouth:

“Now I can have a tea party!”

Yet he still maintains that he’s not gay.

So, who wants to come to jparks’ tea party? RSVP now so he knows how many finger sandwiches to order.