How Miss Britt Makes Guacamole: A Photo Essay

Step 1: Buy two avocados – despite the fact that someone has them falling into his house for free on a daily basis.

Store Bought Avocado

Step 2: Peel and Chop Avocado

This gets more interesting, I promise

Step 3: Realize that you are not going to smash this by hand, no matter what the recipe says

Wonder why food processor/blender is not processing, nor blending…



Smash avocado and put in bowl.  As soon as you figure out how to get that attachment off again.

Step… uh… Next: Chop Garlic Clove (or is it, Clove of Garlic?)

Remember “chopping” is for pussies. (and silently kind of wish you’d paid more attention to Top Chef.)


Chop One Onion

Realize your camera is dead.  Damn batteries.  How can I be expected to cook in this environment?


Decide it is totally acceptable to make up lost time by processing onions instead of “chopping”.

Chop one tomato


Oh come on, you know where this is going…

We don't need no stinkin' KNIVES!!!

Add pureed shit remaining ingredients to other pureed shit avocado mixture.


Add Salt


- to taste


Really wish they would have talked more about guacamole on Top Chef.

Add Lime.  With MAH BARE HANDS!!! Rawr

Think about tasting again.  Remember I rarely eat Guac and have no idea what it’s “supposed” to taste like.  Shit.


Wish your family looked more excited.

Sink a little when your son announces he “doesn’t like this green stuff.”

Perk up when the two year old cheers “esh goood mom, esh goood!”

Realize two year old is eating strips of tortilla as she cheers and has not actually touched said “green stuff”.

Anyone want a jar of Guacamole?

Good thing I’m slightly less of a snot now!

My very first car, given to me by my parents when I turned 16, was green.

I refused to drive it.

It was big and old and an absolute affront to my teenage sensibilities.  I rode in the vehicle exactly twice: once when my parents drove me around after giving it to me in an effort to convince me it was a great gift, and once with a girlfriend of mine who insisted that The Guacamole Machine was better than no vehicle at all.

I promptly went out and got my first bank loan and bought a white coupe with a sunroof.

The irony, of course, is that 24 years later, the Southern Chevy dealers gave me the Synergy Green limited edition Camaro to drive.  And it’s not just green on the outside, but the interior is flanked with neon green panels that glow green in the dark.  The stitching on the steering wheel, seats and interior things is also neon green.


Interior of the Synergy Green Camaro

Five bloggers, five cars, and I get the green one.  The really green one.

Oh, what a difference two and a half decades can make.  At 16 years old, I was mortified at the idea of standing out from the crowd.  Blending in was more important to me than respecting or appreciating my parents’ hard work and generosity, and I was willing to go into debt with no more than an after-school waitressing job in order to conform.

Now, I find that the color of this car may just be my favorite thing about it.  At the risk of playing up the stereotype of a female car buyer focused on appearances, it’s impossible to ignore the appearance of a Synergy Green Chevy Camaro.  People turn to stare in parking lots, strangers stop to compliment the “hot car”, and the valet always remember me.

Fortunately, I’m old enough to realize that making a statement is much more fun than blending into the crowd.

This post is part of the Chevy “Girls on the Go” campaign. If you live in Florida, you can participate in this campaign by going to vote for your favorite girl on the go and entering to win 2 nights at the Gaylord Palms (OHMYGODLOVE).  You can also walk into a Chevy dealer and get a certificate for a free massage from Massage Envy in exchange for test driving a Camaro.

Photo from Chevy

UPDATED: Oh, um, so I’m 30. Not 40. So it was 14 years ago and a decade and a half ago and BARBIE WAS RIGHT!!

It’s A Housewarming Party! And you’re invited. Yes, you.

As everyone in the entire world knows by now, Hilly has moved to Florida.

In fact, she’s moved in about 5 blocks away from me.  That pretty much makes me her neighbor.  As her neighbor and her friend, I’d like to do something special to welcome her to the neighborhood.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Hilly, she is known in The PBR (a term she coined for The People’s Republic of Blogistan) as Snackiepoo.  She has been living in Southern California for the last 5 years until her recent divorce.

Her readers have watched Hilly struggle and fight to save her marriage, and ultimately come to terms with the fact that she had to say goodbye to a man she still calls her best friend .  We’ve seen her battle with self image and a never ending desire to be more positive in all areas of her life.  Watching her strength and her willingness to be vulnerable has been amazing, and I’m so proud to call her my friend.

The woman drove across the country in four days, all by herself.  She’s fucking amazing.

Even though she is resonsible for my excessive use of the word douche.

ANYway, if The PBR were a village, I’d invite you all over to Hilly’s new home for a housewarming party.  I’d make margaritas and serve chips and bean dip and guacamole.  And we’d all sit around on her back patio and talk and laugh, and infect the air with the friends and family vibe that truly make a house a home.

And there would be presents.

Of course, The PBR is not a village in the logistical sense of the word.  Our friends and chosen family members are spread across the globe – which is totally cool for most things but kind of sucky when you move into a new place and the vast majority of your friends are hundreds or thousands of miles away.

But, why let that stop us?



And you’re invited…

When: now

Where: here

What: let’s all welcome Hilly with love and encouragement and congratulations and presents.

How the fuck, Britt?

OK, so – I made Hilly set up an Amazon list for her new house:

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Hilly’s Amazon New House Wish List

Please feel free to go there and depart with your hard earned cash in the name of doing something nice.

You can also send her congratulations e-cards at snackiepoo at gmail dot com.

You can also declare your affection and well wishes for Hilly here in the comment section.

UPDATED TO ADD: I guess I just assumed everyone would think of this, but my mom reminded me this morning that maybe not.  If you don’t see anything you like and want to give a little something to Hilly, remember you can always send her an amazon gift card via  email (snackiepoo at gmail dot com).

Of course, if you don’t know Hilly, you might find this whole thing a little odd.  In which case, well, that’s totally cool.  Obviously.

But if you know and love her the way I do, please join me in welcoming her to her new life and letting her know that The PBR has got her back as she starts to build a new life for herself.

And if you can – bring presents.

How Miss Britt Redecorates Her House And Makes A Dramatic Impact – A Photo Essay

When you’ve been away from your house for oh, let’s say, about 10 days, one of the first things you’ll notice when you get home is that it’s been damn near a year since you’ve made any progress on decorating your not-so-new-anymore house.

At that point, the best thing to do is wait until oh, let’s say, about 3 o’clock in the afternoon on the Sunday before everyone goes back to school and work and their normal routines and declare it is high time we painted these damn walls!

And then you’ll look up the definition of “high time” and determine it is “now” and wonder if you are about to change tenses as you embark on telling the story of how you painted your walls. Then you’ll figure, fuck it. They’ll get the point.

I know.  It's days like this you wonder WHY IN THE HELL DO I READ THIS BLOG?  I get it.

a bunch of white walls - ooh! interesting!

You’ll want to label these pictures as “Before”.

painter's tape

taping sucks painter's butt

Those of you familiar with my fine domestic skills are probably expecting some kind of brilliant tip, trick or short cut right now. But, alas, no. There is no way to avoid spending an ungodly amount of time separating your white walls from your white base boards with green painter’s tape.


Topless Boy On Ladder

Topless Men On The Internet - Oh Yeah, Google - Bring It!

Once you have put a boy and/or taller person to work on the high up parts, you’re going to want to start with the trimming. Except you won’t really want to because the only thing that sucks worse than taping is trimming.

Trimming before you paint with roller

Right about {here} is when your husband or some boy will start to complain that this whole thing is taking a lot longer than he had anticipated when he willingly agreed to help.

Right about {here} is when your three your old will walk in the room and ask:

White on White Walls

And then you will go all ninja on her ass and punch her in her tears. Not really.



Right about {here} you will break out the roller and start filling in the big spaces with paint. You will not take pictures because everyone or some boy is starting to get a little antsy about getting this shit done and you think maybe this isn’t the best time to stop and document everything for the blog.

After roughly not very long at all you big cry baby pee pee pants, you will have covered all of those white walls with paint. You will stand back and marvel at your awesomeness.

THEN, you will remove all of the green tape.

Painter's Tape - Green is Better!

And then, THEN MY FRIEND, you will show them all how wonderfully that time was spent. THEN they will see that it is not at ALL “white on white”!

Painting Neutral Walls

Clearly NOT White Walls

Fill The Big Gaping Void (that is NOT my vagina)

If I died today, I fear the words “fat vagina” would be inscribed on my tombstone.

Either that or “lost tampon”. Possibly “bitchy wife”, but something having to do with the crotch seems most likely to win out.

At least if you believe the collective wisdom of The Google Searchers.

Those of you who are new around here may not be familiar with the infinite wisdom that I possess about vaginas. For example, I know that *vaginas* is the correct plural spelling of *vagina*, even though spellchecker is all in a tizzy about it. Apparently you can only have one vagina, but it is allowed to have ownership of something. But I digress.

My point is *sigh* I have, at one point, written a very detailed post about fat vaginas and lost tampons. And if you have not read it yet *sigh* you can do so here.

I’ll just be waiting over here in the corner with my head in my hands, wondering where it all went so terribly wrong.

Done? Good. Now that we’re all caught up on Jared’s last spelunking expedition in my crotch (oh, you’re going to read it now, aren’t you?), we can discuss what that post has since meant for my blog and WHAT MUST BE DONE ABOUT IT!!!

Because seriously? Of all the keywords that lead people to this site via the almighty search engines, the ones that far and away out perform any others are “fat vagina”, “fat vaginas“, “lost tampon”, “odor in my vagina”, and the occasional “does Dr. Pepper affect the smell of my vagina?”

I am, according to the Internet, The Queen of The Coochie.

And as great an honor as that is, I think it might be time to add a little diversity to my resume.


I want to add some kind of regular feature to this blog. Some kind of “theme” that I can run with each Saturday. Aside from the fact that I am kind of digging the idea of being known for something besides The Vagina Incident, I’d also like to try my hand at writing “on topic” so to speak.

Blah blah blah reasons you don’t care about yada yada blah preamble blah yada yada bullshit.


I’ve spent the bulk of the last few Saturdays doing memes and shit. And while I know how much you all love surveys and random questionnaires, something tells me that none of that is going to make a dent in Mount Vajajay.

I’ve got a few ideas, but they might suck. Heh.

I’ve thought about a “Saturday Style” type thing, where I teach you all about the wonderful fashion sense I have learned from Stacey and Clinton. And then I remember that I own 382 pairs of flip flops and that might not qualify me as a “style expert”.

I considered doing a weekly recipe type gig ala The Guacamole Files. But then I have to consider the fact that… well…The Guacamole Issues. It is entirely possible that I might not be the most qualified person to discuss making food. Ever.

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I also contemplated coming up with a few other unique ideas all on my own. And then I remembered, the internet is no place for unique ideas! Why would anyone try to be creative and innovative all on their own when they have an entire blogosphere just dying to dispense the Internet Assvice?

(Here is where I should butter you up by assuring you that I say Assvice with love. Lots and lots of assy assy love. I assure you.)

Are you feeling buttery? Good.

Now, let the assvicery commence!

What type of *weekly feature* would you love to see here? What brilliant, creative, innovative suggestion would you like to hand over for me to steal?

All ideas welcome!*

*So long as they have nothing to do with vaginas.

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