(Source: , via explore-blog)
I work for a very chick-friendly company. So friendly in fact, that the majority of the team can boast of not just one, but two X chromosomes - an anomaly in the industry.
As so many colleagues are kicking it up in the Land of Milk and Mummy right now, management keeps an ever paranoid eye over the rest of us fecund beauties for any signs of the ubiquitous baby bump. So, I’ve compiled a list of best practices to get them to chill out and focus on something other than the state of our ovaries, like my bottom line.
Here goes :
1) Blame disproportionate responses on PMS. Poor boys will redden up like a soaked tampon when you mention anything related to “The Cycle”.
2) Overdose on caffeine - mainly, because you can. ODing on anything while pregnant is generally considered a major no no.
3) Get sloshed at the office Q2 Results Party. Seriously, it’s the only reason I drink.
And just cuz messing with their minds is so easy, every other month whip out a box of delicious Earth Mama Angel Baby’s Organic Milkmaid Tea.
Nothing beats indulging in mental calorie bombs and deep frying my brain in trans cultural fat. Today I managed to scrape “From Prada to Nada” from the bottom of the Apple TV barrel.
I hoped that like every other adaptation of a Jane Austen novel (e.g. Clueless), it would be an improvement on the original. Like Clueless, it takes place in Los Angeles. Unlike Clueless, our protagonists - Nora and Mary - don’t get to mmmbop around the Hills for long-their dad dies, they find out he was broke, ergo they are now broke and have nowhere to live. So Nora and Mary move out of their palatial home in 90210 and move in with their auntie in little Mexico aka East LA (think Fresh Prince, now flip it and reverse it). Apparently, exposure to poverty and family gives them an opportunity to blossom as young adults; embracing their Mexican identity and err…men. That’s if you read the sales pitch instead of watching the movie.
Given cultural pride is one of the main themes of “From Prada to Nada”, casting two white actresses spray painted with radioactive sludge to represent American-Mexicans seemed a tad tasteless. I should’ve known that when Camilla Belle flashed on the screen looking like the real life incarnation of Lisa Simpson that something was a miss in East LA.
So yeah, aside from competing with Tan Mom (the inspiration behind Tanorexic doll!) in the toasted department there’s Nada noteworthy about this movie.