When I was a kid...

Recently while stocking up on bra's and panties at the Nordstrom's Anniversary Sale, I couldn't help but notice there were a shocking amount of tweens with... well...boobs. Seriously? How can that be? They're still so...young. Then I realized they had all flocked and set up camp around the padded bra area. Got it.
When I was a kid, we had to stuff our bras. I recall, in an intense game of tether ball, Aimee Almaz's secret wad of toilet paper came flying out of her top and on to the playground for all cruel grade school boys to see. HUMILIATING and quite possibly the worst thing that could happen to a 12 year old girl.
Oh, but that was just the tip of the ice berg. Like McCarthyism, one by one we were all getting called out. I was sweating bullets for my turn. And I should have been... I was guilty. Well, so I thought until Matt Ross proclaimed "The only girl who doesn't stuff her bra is Tanja!" Wait...what? Not only did I stuff my bra, I was packing shoulder pads from my mom's 80's power suits. How do you not notice that! What was I, concave? It felt like a backhanded compliment. Don't get me wrong, I was relieved to dodge the embarrassment of false advertising, but as time lingered, I definitely suffered a burn to the ego for my own shortcomings.
Nowadays, no such insecurities contaminate my thoughts. However, when I see these young girls nonchalantly grab a wonder bra off the racks...it irks me. Don't they know how lucky they are? I would have DIED for something like that when I was a kid. I would have loved to grow up in a time where 'stuffing your bra' was a practically extinct term. How times have changed...

I'm baaaaaaaccck....

Finally home and well rested from my summer holiday to Croatia. Although I had a lovely time, there were a couple snags in my trip.
While laying on the beach and trying to decompress, I found nothing took me out of kick-back mode like unwanted male attention. I'd like to preface this by saying I'm truly flattered and appreciative whenever any member of the opposite sex approaches with a little chit chat. However, if my fancy has not been caught, I don't mince words, body language or make any attempt to ante up my lack of enthusiasm to ensure no mixed signals are being sent.
As every other not so easy to impress woman can relate to; finding ways to repel men becomes routine. What I thought would be my meal ticket was to pretend like I'm homeless (i.e. don't shower and extend my sleeping attire into 'day wear'). Sadly, this thought to be genius idea does not work, as I still get approached, just usually not by the pick of the litter.
Then I though...what turns me off? DUMB MEN! So, I tried to decrease the appearance of my intelligence. BAD IDEA. Bad, bad, bad idea. Apparently - fluffy, unmotivated, bubble headed women are to men like law practicing, Mercedes driving men are to us. Hmmmm... I'll just act like I'm really smart! Yeah... that... didn't... really... work.
What else can I do? I give up! And just like that, when I stopped pining for answers, it came to me. Actually, it had been within my reach all along - my mother!
I notices when my sister and I were out on our own, we were constantly pestered by croatia's finest. However, when in my mothers company, they all seemed to stay at arms length. I tell you, no smirky attitude, body odor or low IQ can come close to warding off men like being in the presence of my mommy. Like a shepherd, she protects us sheep from the wolves.
When I think about it, it's really just pay back. When my mom started dating after her divorce, the second she brought potential suitors over to the house to meet my sister and I, they would hit the road. Oh... the beauty of life and how things come around full circle! Thanks mom, you're better than garlic :)

funny

14 down

Sad, lonely and incomplete. Three words that describe the way I've been feeling the last two weeks since my best friend Richa has been in India. We talk every day, and as per agreement with her fiance, have joint custody on the weekend. Needless to say, I miss Richa desperately. This is the girl that after skipping one day of catch-up said she felt 'totally disconnected' from me. When a drunk, bitter, wish he was my ex-boyfriend called me self-centered and annoying - this girl who got up and screamed 'under no circumstances, no circumstances will I tolerate ANYONE calling Tanja annoying!' This girls scrupulous eye always notices when I cut my hair a half an inch but can never see a couple extra lbs. Richa is, in one word...perfection. Only two more weeks of waiting! Ahhhhh...then all will be well in the land.

The art of having fun

It's a masterpiece! I'm referring to the seahorse 'birthday plate' I made on a recent trip to color me mine. If you've never been there, you're sooooo missing out! Now my guests are going to feel so special when they come over for dinner.

Also, I'd like to make it clear that I had NO part in the creation of the coffee mug. It was solely painted by my sister Theresa. You really need to see it in person to get the full effect. It's lack of creativity and poorly executed brush strokes just don't translate as severely in photos. Shhhhhh.... don't tell her that - when she asked me what I thought, I told her it looked 'divine.' Hope she doesn't check my blog today.

who knew?

Call off the dogs, the hunt is over! I'd like to announce that I've just been on the perfect date. Who is this irresistible catch I'm boasting about? Well, to my surprise, it's none other than...me? While dining solo recently, it dawned on me that I was having a ridiculous amount of fun. I asked myself... "am I the perfect date?" I went down the checklist:

Punctuality - right on time (double points).
Restaurant selection - Exactly what I was in the mood for!
Good conversation - My internal dialogue got off to a slow start, but when the guy wearing sketchers walked in... forget about it!
Chemistry - Check.
Hotness factor - Well...when someone else comes up and hits on your date while you're on the date... always a good sign.
Did I just get straight A's? Sweet!

It should have come as no surprise as I recalled a previous conversation my mother and I had...

Mom - Physically what do you look for in a man?
Me - Tall, brown hair, smokey eyes, olive skin, a lean, muscular body...
Mom - Like...you?
Me - Exactly! I'm looking for the male version of meeeee.
Mom - You're weird.

Eureka! All my horrible dates are now making sense. How could anyone possibly follow perfection? Frankly, it's a load off. I can finally unleash the burden of all the times I said "it's not you, it's me." I wasn't lying, it was the truth! I must say, I'm almost disgusted at my self righteousness; never thinking I had a hand in the matter. How narcissistic!

Thanks for the memories...

If you're on my daily call list, you've already heard of the bum that visited me at work yesterday. One of the many perks of being located on Pico blvd is the number of mobile homed customers who frequent our business. As Sweetpeas will be relocating to Santa Monica this summer, I thought it would be fun to rank my top 5 bum experiences there.

Five - To this day, I have no idea who this bum is. In the middle of the night this THIEF broke into our store and and stole MY brand-new jar of Nutella! The evidence came back inconclusive, but as far as I'm concerned... the investigation is still open.

Number four would have to be the one arm dude that ALWAYS comes in asking for change! After realizing politeness was getting me nowhere, I had to show him I meant business by yelling "get the f**k out!" I haven't seen him since our last run in where I threatened to hurt him. I hope he is doing well :)

Number three is near and dear to my heart. After falling into numerous displays, yelling at the Heidi Swap rhinestone collection and licking one sheet of paper - he reached into his trench coat (where I assumed he had a weapon) but instead pulled out a vintage Diana Ross Record. He claimed he was her drummer until the music industry "sabotaged and pushed him out of the business." Tragic! Had he had any $$$ I would have totally given him the number to my therapist so he could sort out his looming emotional issues.

Number two -- Although they pay taxes, own real estate and have the capacity to shower at their leisure, I still consider the vast majority of men who come into my work to hit on me as bums. Especially since many of them have girlfriends/wives (that they've come in with before). How did they know nothing entices me more than a philandering man! Am I that transparent? Let it be known that my quality of customer service is temperamental.

By leaps and bounds the top spot goes to what we like to call 'the night of the bum.' While drinking champagne late into the evening, a bum broke into our back room, pulled down his pants and... well, we drunkards stumbled out the front door and screamed for help. While he held himself hostage inside our office, the bad-ass LAPD busted in and drug his broke-ass out swat style. AWESOME. I wish every night was as eventful as 'the night of the bum.'