Late Night HSN Purchase of Carol’s Daughter Products

The title says it all.

Tucking into bed, flipping on the television. Land on HSN. Mindless, semi-entertaining, no huge commitment. Bubbly, not likely to bring nightmares. It was that, or reality TV. I don’t often make purchases (the last one was 2 NFL Snuggies), but I like to zone out to it every now and then. Not long ago Jessica Simpson was on HSN (or QVC?), peddling products with her mom. It was great. The vacant expression and semi-incoherent product descriptions. Good TV. Recently I watched as an older male designer talked up the shirts he was selling (they looked like the geriatric fall preview). The models couldn’t even make the frocks look appealing, but the host and designer pitched on them as  if we were sitting side stage on the catwalk – and kept their faces straight as they did it. They’re good. And this is why I simply would not make a good salesperson. Seriously, that blue, pleated shirt that screams “grandma’s house circa 1980”  is a “must-have” addition to any woman’s wardrobe?

Back to the night of my purchase.

I think, subliminally, I had already heard of Carol’s Daugther products, so I was close to being sold anyway. Strap that in with a dose of fatigue and out comes the white flag of surrender. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time (or vice versa if I end up hating this product). My eyes were glued on the screen as the Carol’s Daughter representative talked, the HSN lady talked, they took a call, they showed hair models, and I dialed like a robot, beep-beep-beep, pressing all the right numbers until I was told my order was complete. The receiver went back on my princess phone, I beat myself up a bit mentally for being such easy prey, shrugged, and continued flipping through the channels.

It arrived today. Simple, yet attractive packaging. Smells pretty nice. But I’m quite sure that my big head of curls is going to eat up these tiny little (pricey) bottles in no time. Which doesn’t make me too happy. See, I’m a JUMBO sized conditioner person. I know, I know, I go to the salon and they talk all this junk about “dime-size, quarter-size” and “you don’t need as much because it is such good product” smack, but you know what? Live with me. Do my hair daily and you’ll see, girlfriend. It takes a handful of change to satisfy the conditioner requirement on my hair. Dime? Quarter? Shoot – sorry. Almost 3 decades and some odd years will confirm that I know my hair, and my hair likes more than a quarter. Thankyouverymuch.

So we’ll see. I’m going to use these products tomorrow, my “Best of the Best” set: Shampoo, Smoothie, Hair Milk & Hair Butter. I’ll let’cha know, good or bad, what I think.

Gnats in the House

Does anyone else have gnats in the house? I don’t know what the deal is but suddenly we have an abundance of them and I don’t know what to do to get rid of them. At first I thought it was a fruitfly issue (found a way overripe orange in the fruit bowl), but after I threw that out, they remained. Is it seasonal?

I can’t drink a glass of wine without covering it up. Maybe I’ll use that as a trap.

I found this discussion in a quick google search, but am looking for something (hopefully) without using chemicals.

Any suggestions?

What’s For Dinner – Easy Roast Beef Subs

It’s _____day night and you’ve hardly had a minute to spare, jetting from one place to another…

What’s for dinner?

Easy Roast Beef Subs

Busy night, thank goodness for pre-planning a meal. What could have turned into a$20 plus drive-thru meal, was instead a 15-minute prep and eat meal. And it was good, just as good as if we were to eat out. It is satisfying to save a little bit of money. I realize that there are definitely times where our family needs to stop somewhere, shove some food in the kiddo’s mouths so they can eat and get some shut-eye, but I would much rather those days be lessened, and not feel like they are forced. I really prefer it to be enjoyable to eat out, rather than necessity.

Listening to My Parents

Today I overheard a couple of boys, about 11 years old, trying to peer-pressure another set of boys to disregard some rules that were posted. As the pressuring boys performed a stunt, directly ignoring the rules, they heckled the other pair, telling them to join in.

One of the rule-minding pair said, what I would coin as my favorite phrase of the day:

“I’m not a pansy if I’m listening to my parents.”

The pressuring boys continued in their mischief, still calling out, taunting and teasing. I took pleasure out of the fact that they rule-minders did not bend, but continued eating ice cream, continuing to establish that he was holding his ground.