Exotic in the '90s. The 1890s.

Pretty much I love these photos. Retronaut has a collection of pictures of exotic dancers from the 1890s. Hawt!

What I love the most about these, aside from the fashion (HELLO horse costume), is that women are a bit chunky, and a lot short. Love it love it love it. 

Were I only a teenager about 120 years ago, I might have had a promising career as an exotic dancer. A lovely lady entertainer. Of course, I would be much too tall. Perhaps it would add to my allure. 

NOW FEATURING: THE GIANT 5'7" LADY OF THE STAGE.

Oh history. Sometimes I actually enjoy you.

Thanks Retronaut and Neatorama, where I found the links to this fantastic black and white hotness.

"that mystical whinny"

Where has this been all my life? And why don't I own one yet?

Inflatable. Unicorn. Horn.

Happy Friday!

I can be cute.

I realize that it's already six days into March. But whatever. I'm going to tell you how cute I was for Valentine's Day. 

I was able to be this cutesy with the help of the internet, Chaseypoo, and a $4 budget.

Ta-da!

$2 mason jar.

$1.50 red ribbon (it was on sale!)

What is this craftiness you ask? 

This fabulous and rustic-looking jar is filled with 365 reasons I love my husband. Talk about awesome. I wish I was gifted one of these. For the next calendar year, he gets to open up one reason I love him while he drinks his coffee in the morning. What a lucky dog.

Talk about a labor of love. Literally. Do you know how hard it is to think of 365 reasons you love someone? I was madly typing away for like ten minutes one afternoon and thought "Jeez I must have at least a hundred reasons typed out!" Alas, I had only 42. 

Needless to say, it took a while. But I did it. And now he gets to feel as special as he is all year round. That's right. I can be cute.

Nevermind that I forgot it was a leap year and the jar really needed 366 reasons instead of the 365 that I toiled over. Whoops. 

Pure Ice - Taupe Drawer

Just thought you should know that this is the color I'm wearing right now.

And I looooooooooooooooove it.

my little ferret

I searched for a babyproofing kit online.

Naturally the 16th result was this:

I guess she's kind of like a ferret-- very playful and likes to poop in corners.

people are nice

I think I forgot that. That people are nice. I mean I always try to be nice. I hold doors. Make friendly conversation when I'm checking out at the store. Let drivers into my lane. Say excuse me, please, thank you. Give compliments. Etc.

But then silly little petty crap happens that makes me wonder why I'm so nice. Example: I'm buying coffee for me and a friend. And I'm lugging around a baby carrier. When my two coffees are done being made, I have to figure out how to juggle them and the baby. I awkwardly sling the carseat into my elbow pit, while holding a cup (with a lid) of hot coffee in that hand, my purse over my other shoulder, with the other cup of coffee in my other hand. Basically, a wobbly mess. That car seat is heavy.

I turn around and some business casual man on his fancy phone is texting, or tweeting, or reading email, or news, or whatever. He glances up and sees that me, my hot coffees, and awkwardly positioned heavy offspring are trying to get by. Instead of moving, he finishes whatever he's doing. And then BARELY steps to the side so I can try to squeeze by.

Another such doof lets the door slam in my face instead of holding it for me as I try to leave the building. Ugh.

Fortunately no coffee was spilled, no baby was dropped, nothing bad happened. I just got annoyed with people. Not nice people. And yes, I consider you not nice if you aren't courteous.

Then, the other night I went on a jog. And finally...finally I was reminded that I'm not the only nice person. I was crossing the street and a car cut me off while trying to make a turn. I figured she didn't see me so I stopped in time. Had I not, she would have easily hit me. She looked startled when she saw me, but I waved (more of thanks-for-nothing wave than a don't-worry-about-it wave). I was annoyed again.

I got about 3 or 4 houses up on the street and a car pulled up next to me, pacing me. It was her. She had her window rolled down and she was SO apologetic. I smiled and told her it was ok. Because it really was. I saw her. Nothing happened. I didn't get hit. But damn, how nice of her to go way out of her way to let me know she felt bad. What a nice lady. I'm sorry about my annoyed wave. And thank you for your niceness.

As I continued my jog I thought about how great that was of her. And then I thought about the nice lady who bandaged me up on my previous jog (that ended in tripping, bleeding, cursing). She helped me out big time. And my healing knee is thankful for it.

So, that settles it. Nice people exist. Nice ladies anyway.

Or maybe they only do when I encounter them somewhere along my jog.

Who knew Jell-O shots could be so darn classy?

I want one of these. In my belly. Right now now now.

Grapefruit Jell-O shot, rind and all? GET IN MY MOUTH.

And here I thought Jell-O shots were just for underage binge drinkers, bachelorette parties, or small unsuspecting children who don't know about mommy and daddy's adult Jell-O.

SRSLY. So inventive yet simple. I really need to be more creative with my kitchen adventures. I don't mean anything crazy... like cat pizza.

No. Definitely not. But, for the record...if I WERE to make a cat-shaped pizza...it would look much better.

That being said, I need a bigger kitchen, more funding for such whimsical endeavors, and more hours in the day. Sigh. It stresses me out just thinking about it. Better have a drink to ease my tension.

What's that sweetie? That's right. Mommy's just having a bit of Jell-O.

oh crap.

i just realized the world is ending this year.

well...that's unfortunate.

tripping hazard

I've decided that if I were to get a tattoo, it should probably be this:

I, Montastic, am a tripping hazard.

When it comes down to it, I was overdue for a big fall. It's an annual event. So I decided it was high time to trip with the best of them. Falling is one of my many natural talents. Per the usual, I involved my old nemesis--the uneven sidewalk.

Ugh.

Here I am. Bloody, bruised, and once again wondering how it is possible to fall. so. hard.

food flags

love this!

A brilliantly simple advertising campaign for the Sydney International Food Festival. It's pretty self explanatory. Flags of each country recreated by food that country is known for.

Take Italia, la mia favorita, for example:

 Basil + pasta  + tomato = Italy's deliciousness. Om nom nom.

Visually pleasing. Palette enticing. Montastic hungry-ing.

More here.

you know you're old when

part of your pregame routine for a bachelorette party is Pepcid AC.

yes

resolve this

I resolve to stress less
to think more highly of myself
to be more patient with the beebs
to drink more tea in place of coffee
to practice my italiano
to write more-- personally and bloggily
to have girl time
to have boy time
to do something active at least 4 days a week (even if it's just a walk, like a lazy ass)
to stop biting my nails
to be big spoon more often
to have more love
to have less arguments
to really really work on finding a forever home for my family
to shave my legs more often
to read a book. like an actual book.
to re-womanize myself (starting with the aforementioned leg shaving)
to relax until i feel like this:

i resolve to keep at least 3 of these resolution.

i mean let's be realistic. i'm not looking to reinvent the wheel here.

all dressed down and nowhere to go

that's right. i'm sitting here, makeup-less, bespectacled, hair all a-frizz, and wearing sweatpants that are much too large for me.

ahhh. montastic has the house all to herself. don't get me wrong--i'd still look like this if someone were here. but there is something about the silence of the house that makes me feel even more gloriously slobby.

i really can't remember the last time i had the house to myself for a whole night. i'm thinking it's been a year at least. wild. apparently when you add a husband and baby to the mix, an empty house is a rarity. and it's weird. and a little creepy. i've watched way too many horror movies in my day. eek.

so i've decided to tune pandora to some of my old fav stations, and craft some wordies.

If only I could catch a Z or two.

Is it seriously only 11:30 pm? When did I become an old fart who thinks that this is WAY past bedtime?

Oh, right. Baby. Usually baby responsibility alone makes my head ready to hit the pillow at about 9:45 every night.

But not the last few nights for some reason. Nope. Can't sleep. I've just laid there and listened to hubs breathing. And listened to baby breathing teeny tiny baby breaths. And watched the modem flicker. And listened to the grandfather clock bong every fifteen minutes. And flipped my pillow over..and over..and over...and over.

Ah, but tonight...tonight I've truly seized control of my sleeplessness. I got out of bed and found myself back at Bella and Brutta. What power! Take that tired-but-not-sleepy Montastic.

Now, if only I had something worth blogging about.

Drat.