Spellcheck is tricky. It only checks for incorrect spelling of words, not word placement. We all text and email in a hurry from our phones, the majority of us have accidentally sent things we shouldn’t…. it’s totally common… as common as Miley Cyrus’ bluejean rump-revealers and overly smudged eyeliner.  It’s not as common, though, to misspell a word that makes perfect sense in a sentence.  That mother of a spellchecker doesn’t pick up on that…. not as smart as you think, huh, Mr. Spellcheck??!! 

But, never fear, our friend Lyndsey here is NOT ALONE.  My favorite part is that we got a real-time panic email from the stall. We’ve done something like it, Lyndsey! Email us and tell us how it went!

I’m emailing you from the women’s bathroom of my client’s office. I’m late to a meeting because of crazy traffic so I meant to email my clients that I was going to “pop” in the bathroom very quickly then meet them in the conference room. Instead, my fingers pressed too many o’s and this is what I sent: “I’m so sorry for being late, traffic was a bear. I’m going to poop in the bathroom real quick and I’ll meet you in the conference room.”

I just told them I was going to “poop.” I know, the longer I stand here in the bathroom, the more they think I’m really pooping. I’m frozen. I no longer have to pee and I’m trying to think of something witty to say. The only thing I can think of is , “I really didn’t poop, but almost did in my pants once I realized what I sent.”  Oh sweet Jesus!!

GYNA GALS! How many times has this happened to you? You walk into the bathroom or past a mirror and see that Mr. Mucus has formed a little bungalo in your nose? Then you start to back-track all the people you’ve talked to and when you think all this business around your nose had formed. It’s so stressful… I think I might start a new trend… nose tents…. a little fabric shelter that covers your nose…. it would be available in a variety of fun fabulous colors to fit all genders and ages. Excuse me, I have to see a patent lawyer ASAP. No one take this idea!!! NO ONE! It’s mine!

I digress. Anyway, during the winter, the snot/muscas formation in my nostrils is a daily fear.  This morning, though, Christina, lived this fear. Read her story!

So, bloggy friends, I thought I would share a quick moment of embarrassment with you. This morning, just like every weekday morning, I bundled up and escorted the 10yr old and 8yr old to the bus stop. I always see my neighbor there. She walks up with her two darling little girls. And, as usual, after the kids board the bus and speed along to school, my neighbor and I chat for a moment. It is always a very nice chat. And, then I walk home.

As I entered my house this morning, I looked up at mirror in the entry hall. Oh My Goodness! Not only is my nose running (how did I not feel it?) there is also a very large frozen booger in my right nostril.

Do you think it developed as I walked home? No, I don’t think so either. I am thinking that unfortunately my neighbor was not staring at my flawless complexion as we chatted. I think she was staring at my booger! Oy Vey!

If you’re going to fall on your ass, rock the Mariah Carey way - call out your assistants and keep beltin’ out the notes. She didn’t even bat an eyelash. The media may call her a Diva…. well…. Diva Do, girlfriend! DIVA DO!!!! I bow to you. Right now, I’m bowing…. crap.. I can’t get up…. where are my assistants and backup dancers? Oh that’s right, I don’t have any.  I’ll just wait for the UPS guy, he’s very helpful.

Look and learn, GYNA Gals. She makes falling look better than Jennifer Lopez’s eye makeup and I didn’t think that was possible. We all tumble, we just need to exercise Mariah’s art of rally!

The final winner of the “Age, She’s Such a Beotch” story contest with three winners receiving a copy of  author Stephanie Dolgoff’s, “My Formerly Hot Life”, is Kim.  Her story proves that men’s chauvinism can still cause us embarrassment, then we bounce back and remember they are the gender that shifts themselves in public and think no one saw them.  Mamas… don’t let your babies grow up to be Joaquin Phoenix.

Here I am at one of the best street fests in Chicago, Retro on Roscoe, with my younger brother and a couple of his friends.  Retro is great because it tends to be a little bit of an older crowd no 20 something’s getting under my feet.  Here we are, enjoying a few drinks having a great time, I’m checking out the scenery – very nice – when I turn to see my brother talking to a pretty good looking guy, we’ll call him random guy – RG.  I’m half eavesdrop, half paying attention to one of the girls with us when the friend turns to me. Wow, really cute, and he starts making the idle chit chat.  I think it’s going well and he looks a bit older than my brother, which is even better.  We’re having great conversation, laughing , witty banter and then it happens. “So are you Joe’s younger or older sister?” Now make no mistake, I look good for my age, but there should be no question that I am older than my brother.  ”I’m his older sister.” That should be it, right?  Move on, next question, right? NO!  “ Oh really,”  look of utter shock  ”by how much?”  I pause, partly because it’s difficult to do math after 4 drinks and partly never really paying attention to my brother’s age. “You don’t know?” he says getting anxious.  I look at my brother, “How old are you, again?” then back to RG,  “Oh, yea, there’s 6 years difference between us,” and before difference has left my lips, he has his back to me excusing himself to get another drink!  Nice! REAL NICE!!! Way to be subtle! 

It took me aback for a second, but like any smart 40 something , I promptly sprung back and yelled to him to,  ”You can get us all a drink… we’ll be right here.”  He brought back the drinks, but that’s the last contact we had that day. Upon discussing, and laughing about this incident with my brother, he said “he didn’t leave that fast….well, yea, I guess he did, but he’s like 33.”  And I thought Cougars were in… 

Victoria… that naughty little vixen…. sometimes she’s not so Secret. Our next winner of the “Age, She’s Such a Beotch” story contest with three winners receiving a copy of  author Stephanie Dolgoff’s, “My Formerly Hot Life”, is Kelly.  Not only did Kelly have enough emotion with gravity trying to death-grip her boobs, she also had to deal with a unwanted man having a front seat to it all! 

Ladies, let’s support Kelly… literally…read this in your push-up bras. I’m writing this with no shirt on and sporting some lacy lock and lift action.  Kelly, you now have the floor as my boobs have cleared it…

As I enjoy my late twenties, I have noticed my body beginning to change, things are starting to sag and move south.  Now, I have lost a significant amount of weight in the past year – probably about 15 of those pounds from my breasts. I’m not making excuses for my sagging breasts; only trying to justify a portion of their current position with my weight loss.  I’m a woman of good sense, so I know part of it is the gradual approach of the big 3-0.  To remedy this very physical and obvious maturation of my body, I decided to venture into the push-up bra sector of the world.  Mind you, I have had breasts since I was in the second grade.  I have very distinct memories of my mother crying as I tried on training bras.  Because of the longevity of the relationship between me and my breasts, they have had ample time to grow and have always been on the larger side.  My excitement to enter the land of push-up’s was heightened by the idea of thin pretty straps and beautiful lace details that the full-figured section could never quite offer.

I  had recruited my sister to join me on the breast relocation project.  We started at Victoria’s Secret because my sister loves their push-up bras.  We barrelled through the store, on a mission, scooping up every fit of push-up and headed to the fitting rooms.  So, if you have ever traveled to push-up land, you understand that there is a very fine line between beautifully elevated breasts and the dreaded double boob.  With the bras that we thought might work, I tried on a t-shirt over each for the ultimate test.  My assistant, my only sister, was of little help.  She purchased her breasts back in 2003 after the birth of her second son.  Hers are destined to always be a comfortable chin rest whether they are in a bra or not.  Confused as to how a push-up bra should fit a natural breast, my sister ran out and retrieved the nearest saleswoman to help us decipher the bra fit.  What my sister returned with was a snotty 21 year old who has yet to see the flip side of perky breasts and looked at me with a bit of disgust as we explained the situation.  She quickly suggested that I try a few of their fuller coverage bras since I seemed to have ample breasts.  I had to re-explain to this 21 year child that it was the height of my breasts that I was concerned about, not the fullness.  As we sat and discussed (my sister poked and prodded my chest to see if the bra actually fit correctly), a male voice chimed in.  In the midst of the already perplexing chaos, I hadn’t noticed that the fitting room door was completely open. In the reflection of the mirror across from the door was the image of a man in his early fifties sitting comfortably in the husband/boyfriend chair with a perfect view.  He assured me that my breasts were beautiful for a 30 year old and to enjoy them while they were at their current elevation.  His vote was for the bra I was currently wearing.  Stunned and in shock, I quickly shut to door, regrouped and yelled to him behind door, “Sir, I appreciate your compliment, but I am 28, not 30.”

Needless to say I left Victoria’s Secret without that particular bra, but with the two runner ups. Oh.. and with my sunglasses on so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the older male stranger that experienced the entire debacle with me.