My toes are SO famous right now.

sirsasana

No seriously. My toes are SO famous right now.

My good friend at toemail featured my recent post So you want to take a media vacay – along with my toes…naturally. My toes (and I’m hoping my writing) has rounded up over 60 likes already over at their super fun place.

Score!

This is actually the second time my toes have made an appearance over at toemail. Of course that was way back when nobody knew this little blog even existed. My toes have had a rough life, what with being shoved in pointe shoes during my former dancing years and ridiculous high heels countless other years.

Be sure to stop by and give my toes a “like”!

Also, thank you ALL for participating in the Pick Your Favorite Britt Pic poll. There was a tie between two images, so I tinkered with the lighting a bit to marry the two ideas.

The new profile pic you’ll be seeing all over the damn place is this guy…

britt skrabanek

Okie dokie, artichokes. Enjoy your Sundays…eat amazing food, get outside, and hug someone neat!

Pick Your Favorite Britt Pic!

Britt Skrabanek 2

Being the antsy gal that I am, I figured it’s about that time to change up the ole profile pic all over the online kingdom. Since I loathe making final decisions most of the time…you guys get to vote!

Pick your fave down below. Voting ends next Saturday the 29th. Thanks a bunch!

Breaking Up Isn’t Hard to Do

ice melting milwaukee

Doo, doo, doo down doo be do down, down
Go on, go on
Down doo be do down, down
Go on, go on
Down doo be do down, down
Breaking up isn’t hard to do

Go take your snow away from me
I don’t care, I don’t even ski
If you stay then I’ll just sue
’cause lawsuits aren’t hard to do

Remember when I held myself tight
And shivered all through the night
Think of all that I’ve been through
’cause winters are hard to do

They say that breaking up is hard to do
Now I know, I know it’s NOT true
Please say that this is the end
Instead of making up
I wish that we were breaking up again

I beg of you no more grey skies
I’m done with all your ice and lies
Come on Spring let’s start a new
’cause breaking up isn’t hard to do

It’s a sing-along! If only I had one of those bouncy balls to go across the lyrics. Remember those?

Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Neil Sedaka (feel free to join in!)…

The G-Rated Deal

under the blanket
Yep, that’s me.

I always wanted to watch the Planet Earth series, and Mr. H and I got it for Christmas last year on Blu Ray.

Let’s just say we have an arrangement when it comes to watching these types of things. I do other things and Mr. H gets my attention when something cute or pretty comes on.

I spent most of Disc 1 of Planet Earth hiding under a blanket. Why?

Well, you know everything was all hunky-dory.

Gorgeous Earth showed off her sexy self left and right – her flowery mane, her pointy peaks, her undulating sea hips, and her long tree legs.

The animals started off sprightly and entertaining.

Baby versions gave me a case of the ubiquitous female sigh – awwwww. I wanted to snuggle with them, even the ones that would surely bite my ass.

Then, comes that inevitable moment…you know which one. When the animals decide to turn into Hannibal Lecter’s.

And, that’s when I cower beneath my raggedy blanket, my protective shield, praying for an end to the graphic meal in HD (for our benefit).

Mr. H. shouts things like…

“Not yet. No, definitely not yet!”

Or my personal fave…

“Don’t come out of there. It’s NOT safe!”

I know it’s the cycle of life and all that. But, I just can’t.

If I had it my way, nature documentaries would only show the following:

  1. Interesting weather phenomena
  2. Bold and colorful flora and fauna
  3. Baby animals before they get eaten
  4. Vegetarian meals only

Alas, I know this is not often the case.

Lucky for me I can sometimes experience censored cuteness and prettiness because I have Mr. H and the G-Rated Deal.

How about you guys out there? Do you hide under blankets too or is just me?

Chicago: Beyond the Shamrock Shenanigans (And Dessert)

downtown chicago

I don’t know why, but one thought came to me after my recent trip to Chicago…crème brûlée.

Perhaps because it’s complicated, rare, and amazing.

You can try it over and over again, but each time you crack its intricate surface, you’ve barely even started to devour the insane richness beneath.

I didn’t eat any creme brulee in Chicago last weekend for Mr. H’s birthday celebration. That’s because I ate the majority of his birthday cheesecake the night before we left, for breakfast the morning we left, and the moment we got home the next afternoon.

To say I have a love for dessert is an understatement. Without remorse, I devoured my spouse’s leftover birthday cake like it was mine…all mine!

In my defense, he totally had the first piece.

So, where was I? Creme brulee.

Mmm…creme brulee.

Sorry, where was I really?

Ah, yes. The windy city!

The other day I ranted about our St. Patty’s experience. Be sure to check out Chicago: In the Throes of Shamrock Shenanigans if you want to read what not to do for St. Patty’s.

Unless you’re the public lush enthusiast, then by all means…go!

Have no fear. I’m all done bitching about the clover clad half-wits. Moving right along!

So, once the drunkards stumbled back to their emerald caves, the city was manageable again.

This was my fourth visit to Chicago – a few were last minute “Whoo, whoo! Let’s go clubbing in Chicago tonight!” trips, and the other one was spent in Bucktown/Wicker Park visiting a super awesome friend of mine.

(Love Bucktown/Wicker Park by the way!)

But, this particular adventure was all about downtown.

Chicago is a big ass city, guys. Pick a neighborhood and get in there. Don’t bother seeing “it all” because you totally can’t.

GETTIN’ PLACES

Thinking of driving? Imagine this.

After countless hours in traffic jams at unimaginable times, followed by barreling down the wrong way of a one way street that came out of nowhere, you finally arrive at your destination. After your tenth lap around the block searching for a parking space, you think you finally see one.

But, guess what? It’s a mirage, and your ass is parked on the sidewalk and an opportunist is now selling souvenirs from your trunk.

For crying out loud, take some public transportation – the “L” is a guaranteed good time. I even sat across from a questionably alive man during my first ride. Give it a whirl!

And, a word of advice while walking around. Don’t use Starbucks or Walgreens as landmarks because they are on every freaking block, and let’s face it…they all look the same.

CRASHIN’ PLACES

We stayed at the W City Center and it was pretty perfect. An eight minute walk west gets you to Union Station. An eight minute walk east gets you to Michigan Avenue.

Centrally located, indeed.

Because it was Mr. H’s birthday I called ahead that morning and requested a sweet ass view.

I worked for a big name chain hotel for a couple of years right out of high school…in the trenches of guest services. When there’s a special occasion, don’t be shy.

Ask for a little extra, but ask nicely.

We ended up on the top floor with this rad view…

view from w chicago city center

My only complaint with our hotel room was the vent in the bathroom, and it’s kind of a weird story.

Apparently, because we were on the top floor, we were very intimate with the roof top vent. As such, every time we turned on the bathroom light it sounded like a space ship was landing.

And even better, when you gazed up bravely from the toilet to check out what was going on, a strange black thing moved in a slow manner.

Between the spooky ruckus and the intimidating shadow, I whispered a desperate prayer for the aliens to leave me in peace each time I sat on the pot.

And, they did.

PLAYIN’ PLACES

Any die hard tourist would look at our weekend romp and say “Shame on you.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah we thought about going to some attractions – specifically the Museum of Science and Industry or the Art Institute.

But, we were only there for twenty-four hours. So, Mr. H and I did what we always do when we arrive somewhere…we strutted.

We tend to strut.

Even though I’m one of those super organized control freaks just about everywhere else in my life, when I travel I like to wing it. And Chicago is one of the best places to get lost.

Remember that creme brulee opener? Every spectacular building stood on display like one of those dessert trays in a fancy restaurant.

You know the kind, where you drool over every single delight and you can’t choose your favorite.

Like this one. How about this dark chocolate Burberry building with rainbow sprinkles and crisscrossed icing?

burberry chicago

Or how about wandering into the old Marshall Field’s – now masquerading as a Macy’s – and hurting your neck staring at this ceiling treat that looks like wedding cake you want to swim in…

tiffany ceiling marshall field's chicago

When you wander around Chicago, you can sample every tasty building with your eyes.

And, it tastes good…I take that back…damn good.

So, we gingerly cracked the surface of Milwaukee’s famous neighbor, the city of Chicago, our honking piece of creme brulee. But, what we tasted was perfectly charred and just the right amount of sweet.

We’ll be back again soon for more.

chicago jazz hands
I couldn’t resist some Jazz hands. Come on…it’s Chicago!