Beyonce:1; Me:-622,975

I was about to leave the house for a stroll with the baby. On my way out the door, I saw this photo of Bey strolling with Blue Ivy yesterday. I looked in the mirror and decided I can do better than stretched out boyfriend jeans and flats that are a little gritty from the baking soda I sprinkled in them to lessen their smell.

I hope. But maybe not.

Breaking Nails News!

One argument Beef will never win is Why don’t you just do your nails yourself? I don’t think I even need to break down the reasons why– because it’s probable there’s an old episode of King of Queens or Yes, Dear that most likely covers them for me.

However, I recently won a bottle of FACE Stockholm nail polish at a baby shower by correctly identifying photos of celebrity babies (the only one I missed was Bingham Bellamy).

This is the best nail polish I’ve ever used. It goes on smoothly, coats evenly, and saved me from Beef looking at my homemade manicure and saying Oh, THAT’S why. So sorry, Essie and OPI, I’m a changed woman.

FACE Stockholm has a line out now at J. Crew. I’m loving Cardinal Rule. Orange nails for spring, y’all. Don’t forget to spring ahead this weekend!

Who Wore it Better? Frogs Edition!

Who wore it better? Posey… or Gaga?

Who Wore it Better? Straps Edition!

Posey… or Zooey?

Who Wore It Better? Little Hat Edition!

Posey….Or Usher?

Liz Lemon, I presume.

Over the last week, I decided to do something completely unlike me. So I took a short-term job working at lululemon‘s first U.S. warehouse sale. And by “took a job,” I don’t mean signed on as a PR consultant or advised them on their media strategy. I straight up unpacked boxes and worked the cash registers. I made chit chat with guests.  I asked them if they found everything ok. I used their first names after I saw their credit cards. I made eye contact. Sort of. It was good, honest, on-your-feet work, and I liked it. Until I saw people I knew from high school.

I used to have an Important Career. Four months ago, I gave it up. There is a part of me that isn’t ready to accept that I am now a stay-at-homer.  Or a warehouse-sale-in-a-convention-center girl. Was I embarrassed to be spotted there? Not really, because it was a cool event. But what if the people who saw me thought, “That’s all she’s up to?” Would I care?

Would you?