The sky’s the limit except when it’s open.

The OpenSky Project.

Something completely foreign to me before a cool Saturday afternoon in North Scottsdale.

Then I met Ted Rubin.

Now, Ted Rubin is a man driven by passion.

The passion he has for connecting people and developing trusting relationships was what appealed to me about his platform for expression: OpenSky.

I was in the midst of a massive anxiety attack but was able to smell what the boss was cookin’. I soaked up the good stuff and in my mad dash back to the hotel room for The Great Chocolate/Lexapro Binge of 2010, I told myself, “Self, you better find that Ted Rubin character and pick. his. brain.”

And that, my dear friends, is precisely what I did…after copious amounts of whiskey.

I became addicted to the concept. A concept that, as a woman who can do irreversible pocketbook damage shop like it’s no one’s business,  makes more sense than a bologna sandwich. (Which? In the scheme of things, doesn’t really seem to make much sense. F for effort, Jess.)

Before you make a purchase, big, small, or somewhere in between, your final decision is most often based on what you know about the brand/product/manufacturer. At least, that’s how I shop. I ask friends, family, Twitter, Google. I ask ‘em all what they think of so-and-so’s doohickeymabob. That asking and trusting who I am asking, is a badrillion and one plus infinity the reason I’ve joined forces with OpenSky to become a seller.

All that sidebar hullabaloo about “Something Coming”? That’s OpenSky. Or as I humbly refer to it as, The Most Conveniently Effective Place To Shop Because You Know I Wouldn’t Endorse Crap Shop. OpenSky Shop is a lot less wordy though so I’m pretty sure that’s why they went with the former. *shrugs* Shot in the dark.

My ambition is growing and my anticipation is unfathomable. Just a measly 11 days to one of the greatest evolutions in retail. Buying things from a space where you know you’re getting quality goods. I could sit here and gab on and on and on (and on) about the business model, but I can do the team behind the genius no justice. Check out all the details of becoming a seller or supplier for yourself!

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Wordless Wednesday: Dead or Alive

Tea Cup Frenzy

**Join the Wordless Wednesday fun and link up with Angry Julie!

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#pottyplane

I am pictured below in a women’s large of the #partyplane shirt. I am also 5’10 and have a 2 foot torso. If you order, order two sizes up from what you normally wear (aka completely squash any last remaining shred of self esteem you have about your body image) or just order a men’s small and share the chocolate you would have binged on over what your shirt tag reads on the plane with me next Wednesday. Honky. Dory. 

According to the ticker over there on the right sidebar*, at this very moment in time, there are a mere 7 days 11 hours and 12 minutes until I am on a plane to JFK from LAX.

The official #partyplane to BlogHer ‘10 in NYC that is. Order your shirt now! (basically so I don’t look like the only overzealously enamored passenger on Virgin America flight 404 at 7am on a Wednesday)

partyplane

 

*The ticker is when I leave Phoenix for LA…so I had to add a day to not terrify confuse everyone leaving with me on the 4th.

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We totally need a new mattress...

...so when I saw that Bossy was doing a Tempur-Pedic Cloud Supreme giveaway, we hopped on the opportunity train and didn't look back...well, we looked back long enough to make sure Nugget got on the train too, we're not completely neglectful parents. His legs are just so damn long, it's hard not to mistake him for a European NBA player. What?

So the contest guidelines called for a video under :60 that showcases how you could benefit from a better night's sleep. Well, obviously since we suffer from mattress grudge induced insomnia, nightly, we thought it easier to express our want desire need to win this contest by capturing a typical day in the lives of the Shuggilippo family.*

Below is the full-length video because, really, I could have forced asked Husfriend to do a ton more scenarios where we're routinely falling asleep or find ourselves utterly exhausted because, "Cheese and rice! Why won't our eyelids mack on each other already?!"




My hope is that we totally manage to snag this stellar prize so I can make Husfriend and Nugget star in a follow up video Husfriend and I can finally get a full night of REM sleep. I can feel the cumulus beneath me now...

*Dude, obviously this is not a "typical" day in the life of the Shuggilippo family. Typically, there are far more poop explosions, tantrums from most of cast parties, scenes involving food, and far less showering. 

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Wordless Wednesday: Little Orphan Orange

Otter Pop

**Join the Wordless Wednesday fun and link up with Angry Julie Monday.

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Mom to MILF

I looked like I was twenty-young going on forty with the abhorrent, materneglected hairstyle I have been sporting for the last few months. I am hip trying to be stylish jet-setting over the next few weeks so my mane was in need of some major TLC.

I opted for the MILF (Mom I’d Like to French (Kiss Because The Other Word Is “Extreme” When You’re Talking About Hairstyles)) cut this go ‘round. My friend Rachel @ Hair Peace is the ar-teest behind the masterpiece.

hair combo mom milf

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Like the Sorcerer's Apprentice, but with sprinkles.

When Nugget isn’t binging on the sugary, candied goodness that is Mom’s sprinkle collection, he’s a pretty handy tool in the kitchen. I mean, every good amateur baker needs a beater-licker right?

Sugar Rush

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Somethin’ about summer lovin’

There’s somethin’ about summer lovin’ from your little Nugget that makes the sweat, body odor, greasy hair, and swamp ass worth while on a blazing Saturday morning.

Pre Kissy Mommy Nugget

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Wordless Wednesday: Kiddy Keys

Kiddy Keyes Small

Join the Wordless Wednesday fun by linking up with Angry Julie Monday!

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Even though I’m a gas, I usually don’t fart.

Lately I feel like I’ve been off my game.

This may be the product of my new lease on day-to-day life. You know, that vow you make to shift your priorities and feel better about yourself for a week or so before everything starts crumbling around you for no apparent reason, no doubt, out of sheer spite at your efforts to be a better Not-Quite-Wife/MOTY/Employee of the Millennia juggler? Yeah, about that.

It may also be because, “Holy hell! Why can’t I muster the word ‘no’?!” Yes appears to be the verbal diarrhea of choice, but how about we sprinkle that “no” word in there a bit if for nothing more than to curb my developed dependency on donuts and Diet Coke. My muffin top would appreciate it. As would my chins and the unsightly Mt Vesuvius thereon.

My long-lost twin has been suffering from Look-At-Me-I’m-My-Own-Punching-Bag Syndrome lately and having her share what appears to be another telepathically creepy instance in our parallel existence, inspired me.

I’ve been inspired by a lot of people lately. Infected even. Not the VD kind of infected though. Gross. Infected with passion. Those people who just have this gusto for life and all that comes with it. The trials, the tribulations, the ups, the downs, the happy, the miserable, the…well, all of it. I like those people. I like ‘em a lot.

**Warning, completely irrelevant, but still radtastic, important tangent paragraph ahead! Watch for ice on roadway!**

I was recently approached to be a part of a grand new site, The Smartly, where bloggers and writers alike can embrace every facet of their broad minds, sharing it proudly with the interwebs. I’m part of the geo-neutral site because I live in the state everyone shuns the Voldemort of America Satan’s Armpit. Be not deceived, I’m honored and ecstatic to be a part of the project on any channel they fancy to toss me. I can be funny AND serious over there (you know, something completely out of the norm from this ole space). It gives me giggle bumps so I hope you’ll join us along the path of awesomesauce.

I’m funny, mostly, but I’m not gassy. I mean I am a girl after all. (Shocking, I know. Alert the presses!) You know what they say about girls…right? You don’t?! Some weird dude that decided he would love to never get laid live completely out of touch with reality, once said, “Girl’s don’t poop or fart because they’re ladies and ladies just don’t do that shit.” Well, I don’t think he said that last part, but I added it to spice up The Pathetic of what he was getting at by being a naive loser. I fart, on occasion. I drop the Cosby’s off at the pool too. There’s no shame in it.

I am woman, here me rip a juicy one.

Bet you didn’t think this post would turn into THAT atrocity did you?! You’re welcome.

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The same week Billy Ocean had a Hot 100 hit, I was birthed…so there’s that.

I made my grand debut into this world the same week Billy Ocean’s track “There’ll Be Sad Songs (To Make You Cry)” hit the number one spot on the Billboard Hot 100. I’m not bragging about it. I mean, have you HEARD the song?! It is pretty boring.
I also share my birthday with Courtney Love. Yeah, that’s not boding so well in favor of “July 9th Is Awesomesauce!” is it?? I agree.
I was a chubby baby, but just as insane with the my expressions. There’s a picture to prove this that involves purple corduroy, tights, white patent leather shoes and some crazy lighting. Luckily Sadly enough for you, it has disappeared between my senior dance showcase slide show for the world to see and this age in which embarrassing childhood photos will come in handy for blackmail and humiliation. Damn those annual relocations.
To tide you over until I find that picture, I’ll share this classic snapshot of yours truly. Complete with 80s mullet, black olives on my fingers, a night shirt, and a goofy expression that only reaffirms that Nugget is indeed my own:
  Jess Circa 1980s













Happy Birthday Me! (And Califmom, Tom Hanks, Courtney Love, OJ Simpson, Fred Savage, Jimmy Smits, & John Tesh)

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Wordless Wednesday: He’s actually reticent.

mommy and nugget rugged

Join the Wordless Wednesday fun and link up with Angry Julie Monday.

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Possessors and Expressers are not the same thing.

Possessors and Expressers are not the same thing. Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I’ve realized this. What I’ve also realized? I’m totally impatient and easily butt hurt. I am a Possessor.

I have often been told, after being a brief Expresser, that I should do more of that part. Well, they tell me that after the gasps, shock, terror, and reality sink in for keeps at what just miraculously happened between us.

What I’m having the most difficulty with is how to be an Expresser. I don’t want to be misinterpreted as a Horn Blower. I mean, heaven forbid I flex my mad woodwinds skills (Shocking Expression: I played the flute for 4 years. First chair. Sometimes second. Always good.).

There it is. Right there. Completely and unknowingly stumbled upon by way of parenthesized mishap. I’ll do a weekly Shocking Expression post where I reveal to you a previously uncelebrated talent/intellect/humor/job that makes up every last square inch of Me.

Back to what spawned this discovery: The desire to excel. I can’t very well progress in this monstrosity of a blogosphere if people don’t know my capabilities. It all goes back to that wretched post about popularity (read: The Numbers Game). I can’t assume that companies with lots of interest in investing their marketing dollars in social media would know my capabilities if I don’t, well, share them. I’ve thought of building (Shocking Expression: I know code.) an ask-and-answer form on my Advertising page. A place for potential dough providers to assess my familiarity with products/brands/topics…hmmm. There I go again, sharing my grand-stumbled-upon ideas with all thirty of you sexy readers of mine.

Be free my children! Use these words to save the world!

Now this doesn’t apply just to this crazy, mixed up online world I seem to be sucked into indefinitely. The Repressed Expresser in me has started to shine in my home and professional lives. I can be, if I’m not already, what everyone can benefit from. Watch out world, I’m opening the flood gates.

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