Archive | September, 2011

Bonus Question…

30 Sep

How did I get so lucky to have such a fun, witty, bombshell, sparkly, intelligent, adventurous, multi-fasceted, multi-talented, sensational, beautiful Nigella princess to be my bride?

-Brought to you by cheesy-town

20 quick questions while I’m waiting for my coffee to brew?

30 Sep

1. Why am I getting my day started at 3:00 in the afternoon?
2. What have I been doing all morning?!
3. Why am I even bothering with coffee when I am just using it as a vehicle for Bailey’s?
4. Why does Bailey’s make my stomach feel funny?
5. Why is breakfast cereal so delicious?
6. Why, oh, why don’t we have any cinnamon toast crunch in this house????!!?!
7. Is there crack in cinnamon toast crunch?
8. Have you visited the website www.cracked.com? OMG. It’s like crack. Funny, science crack.
9. What kind of pie do I want to make for girls night? Caramel apple or plum pear?
10. Shouldn’t pie be a little easier to make?
11. Why is the water taking so slow to boil?
12. What did I dream last night?
13. Why are my dreams so cray-cray town?
14. Why hasn’t anyone video-taped my dreams and turned them into an award-winning film/tv show?
15. Why do I ask such silly questions?
16. Shouldn’t I have been able to clean my room after five days off in a row?
17. What should I wear to tantalize my cute date tonight?
18. Why haven’t I been making banana coconut milk smoothies all summer?
19. Why do I always put the freaking kettle on the broken burner?!?! No wonder…
20. Why do I even bother wondering why I’m not more organized/try to be more organized? Enjoy this magic moment brought to you by Seattle Autumn afternoon spiked with Bailey’s. YUM.

Image 26 Sep

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T.G.I.M.3 (Thank God It’s Monday Magic Moment)

Two hour surf set to squeeze out the last gelly bits of summer’s gloss tube. Morphed into sunset boogie romp as the fog rolled in. Pumpkin Ale in an obnoxiously long outdoor shower under the first star, so lengthy and steamy the temperature in Rhode Island just rose about 8 degrees. Organic hotdogs and beans. Attempting to finish Garden State without falling asleep for the 3rd time this past week, joined by the drum circle of crickets outside my windows (I feel like there’s something wrong with me because no one else has this reaction to Garden State, right?).

Shimmer T xxxo

Image 26 Sep

Hiiiii Sugartits! Please tell me what the FUCK to do with this. I’m fucking loving the tye-dye, ugh. Needs a rebuild. Help.

Image 26 Sep

Aaah, the 112th confirmation that Vietnam is a barf bag. Sorry, Hanoi, we tried. Really, we did. For a moment there, we really thought your sick-ass Tamarind vegan restaurants and daily French bistro chocolate croissants could make up for your incessant road rage (hint – take a tip from Bangkok’s sweetly stealthy cabbies who don’t need to keep their hand glued to the horn. You’re a joke compared their Mario Kart-finesse. And their city is about 5 times bigger, more nuts, dirtier, and sweatier than yours.), sketchy drivers who won’t listen or smile, humor-less shop keepers, and aggressive slap-happy massuses. You really should have accepted our glossing of gutter roses we so lovingly bestowed all over your hostile-juju city. Instead, you chose to reciprocate with a temper-tantrumic hotel owner, calling my dear friend a whore based on her Linda Evangelista ice eyes, and a police force run by the mafia. At least in hiding from your corrupt American-embassy representative, I got a relaxing day at the salon to slice off my splits and refreshen with new champagne streaks whilst waiting for our flight back to paradise aka home aka Thailand aka benchmark for S.E. Asian bliss.

Dearest Hanoi, we’d certainly entertain the thought of a re-visit, just let us know when you remove the stick so firmly wedged up your ass.

Until then,

Taylor, Samantha, Casey, and Mai ❤

-Shimmer T

23 Sep

May I just comment on your Voicemail Voice. It makes me snicker smile because of the darling name Samantha Jane combined with your serious tone. It’s the tone you use when you’re trying to get your point across, firmly, and your nostrils get all flarey and your eyes shoot open for .098 seconds. Or when you’re trying to tell a coked-out spewing Vietnamese mafia hotel owner that his mother is, also, a whore.

A Pre-honeymoon Honeymoon in Tahiti. Like, how sick are we? Who just “stops over” in Tahiti for a few days en route to Kiwi Bliss. 

And let’s talk Kiwi Bliss. KB is free working holiday visas, no NZ drivers license for a year, grassy wines and cheese, South Pacific Weekend Getaways (suck my wang, Giada), summer in January, and finding a sexy cozy beach city to settle our shimmer in. NZ is basically begging us to have our way with her. And we will take full advantage. Probably enough advantage to warrant a restraining order after 3 weeks. But then we just jet off to Fiji or some shit, take a gulp of fresh island breeze, and it’s awl coo’.

Look at your dreamy beauty. What a fantastical bursting brain soul bouquet. I also need to know about Samantha’s Song which of course got a rapt listen. If you are musing it up, you must tell me beauty queen and make me turn all envy-ish. i want it in a vase next to my bed to wake up to. Just like that bouquet of yellow flowers next to Madeline’s hospital bed she got to wake up to each morning during her appendix surgery. And there was a crack in the ceiling shaped like a rabbit. Yes, that Madeline.

Anyhooooooooo, I MUST get back to packing. Because even packing for two nights is about a 90 minute process for this T. Vars (it gets SO challenging some times). And I HAVE to finish this bottle of White Merlot (yeah, you should). And I HAVE to finish figuring out the fucking DEAL with Garden State (someone??? please????). And I HAVE to wash this Thai yellow cocaine powder you gifted me that I’ve been spreading on as a face mask for months when it’s probably actually a poultry dry rub, according to what’s wafting into my nostrils at the moment.

Tomorrow, off to Boston for some college lovin’ and Po(r)tland for a tasty techno lights show chased with some MDMA.

Although you will have your wives and mistresses, I will Always Be Your Bride,

Shimmer T

P.S. Sunflower butter.      ?          Embellish. Ish.

Image 17 Sep

Blossoming into your Full Bouquet.

This is what I can only describe as the face of my identity bouquet.  The Dia de Los Muertos (Flower Princess) print came as a surprise to me last night and unwinded a certain level of surreal satiation in me after weeks of what I can only describe as continual pms. I feel as though all aspects of my personal vanity have been appeased.  It came after a vivid dream in which I could color, draw, paint, which I certainly can’t, but the ability has been something I’ve always lusted after. The colors presented themselves in bright lines, and after that I can’t really explain it.  A few days later, a friend of mine from New Mexico (a close friend of my sister, my ex-husband, and ex-love-interest of my wife’s sister to be more precise) sent me a link to his art blog.  The colors and lines were so similar to my dream, and I made a mental note of it, but my mental notes are terribly disorganized, and it became lost in a sea of glitter everything, sunflower butter, Pike’s place market, emerald costume jewelry, ipad accessories, snow white decals, blueberries, detoxes, island excursions, parking tickets, and general pink and gray disarray. So imagine my surprise when I find that my face is part of a beautiful colorful illustration, the subject of the magical princess flower warrior of my most coveted dreams.  Part Georgia O’Keefe, part female glam art you find at papyrus stores, part ancient Hindi princess, part Dia de Los Muertos, a pinch of gringo Frida, part dream, 100 percent perfect, and all colorful, wordless bouquet of exactly what I should feel about myself.  It’s exactly the picture I didn’t know I had in my mind about when we talked on the phone last fall.  Blossoming into your full bouquet is how you described it, something along those lines, and I loved you even more for giving me those words, and I loved you even more that we both were glossed to be in love with ourselves.  No shame, only glitter.  So now that I have had my very own song written for me and my very own painting, and my very own bride (and a couple of wives and mistresses) I feel as though I have everything I could have ever wanted.  We even have our very own imaginary children, Pearl and Lux.  My life is complete.  My life has come full pearly circle.  Let’s get glossed, Shimmer Muffin. 

This combined with Samantha’s song and I am now a complete Diet-Slut Layla/Roxanne/Rosanna/Sherona/Sarah/Delilah. 

Look at you know, You GLITTER.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7av3GOhbF8

www.stevenvigil.com