Tag Archives: Carlie

You’re in luck…it’s Brain Lottery #2!

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I’m really glad I came up with this “Brain Lottery” concept. It strings together my unrelated, incoherent, random thoughts of the moment and makes them seem a little less unrelated, incoherent and random. Thus, I come across as slightly less scatterbrained and insane, and hopefully you won’t be afraid of me and my blog.

Or you will just keep reading because we all know it’s hard to turn away from a trainwreck. Either way, I’ll take it!

Here are some of the lottery ball-like thoughts that are currently ricocheting off the walls of my fragile psyche:

1. Ok I get that LOST was awesome and it blew your mind and was a little more intellectually stimulating than, say, America’s Next Top Model and now it’s over and there’s a hole in your life where curious musings about some mysterious “hatch” used to be. BUT CAN EVERYONE PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT IT ALREADY? This is purely a selfish request. It’s my fault I stopped watching the show half-way through the very first season, I know. But I feel like we’re all in 2nd grade and everyone except for me got invited to this totally awesome birthday party at a rich kid’s house where they had a jumpy house and a petting zoo. And now everyone is talking about it and I’m all like “hey, it’s cool, I had better things to do anyway” but really I’m jealous and I feel really left out, ok? I felt the same way after the Grey’s Anatomy season finale aired last week. I had to stop watching that show when Christina got impaled by a falling icicle – I’m sorry. There was just too much blood and ridiculousness going on. It was like a combination of E.R. and Kill Bill, and I did not sign up for that. Whatever. I’ll take my Real Housewives and Bachelorette (season premiere is tonight people!!) and go sulk in the corner.

2. Since that first random thought was a bit lengthy, I feel like this one should be really short.

3. One conflict that I’ve had to deal with my entire life is that I love trail mix but I hate raisins. FACT: There are always raisins in trail mix. FACT: I’m too lazy to make my own trail mix. I discovered mymixednuts.com and suddenly I was freed from the reign of terror imposed by all those unwelcome raisins! I spent $15 to design my own trail mix using carefully chosen ingredients. OF COURSE Reese’s Pieces (the best bite-sized treat with a hard candy shell in the world) was one of them. I received my trail mix (named Crazy Crunchy Cool. By me.) in the mail last week and proceeded to pick out all of the Reese’s Pieces. (And also the dried pineapple – that’s good stuff!) So now I have a bag full of almonds and coconut shavings. Blah. Trail mix, we’re done. (Reese’s Pieces – call me!)

4. When people see me putting gas in my car, they probably think I’m super prissy and dainty. Not because of the pink gingham housedress with crinoline and white satin gloves I usually wear whenever I get gas, but because I always unscrew the gas cap and hold the nozzle with the very tips of my fingers so I don’t get gas on my hands. Because nothing is worse than not having a place to wash your hands and smelling like gasoline all day (after the first few seconds when it is actually somewhat pleasant). Yes, I have dropped the nozzle before, and yes I got gas all over my shoes. That was a bad day.

5. Justin Bieber has a song on the radio (I could gripe about that mere fact alone, but I’ll refrain) in which he laments about having “an eenie meenie miney moe lover.” I’m pretty sure Justin Bieber is about 6 years old. The eenie meenie miney moe part makes sense, but isn’t he a bit too young to have a lover? Ok, maybe in actuality he is 16 (I just looked it up), but as long as he insists on wearing his hair like that and looking like a 6-year-old, I will treat him like a 6-year-old! Also Justin, I wouldn’t walk around using the word lover willy-nilly. It makes most people throw up in their mouths a little and also reminds me of this classic SNL skit. Not sure if that’s the image you’re looking to portray.

…AND I’m spent!

What’s my Facebook status? Old.

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Back in the social media stone ages when I first joined Facebook (circa 2006), there was no such thing as a status update. It was basically just a bunch of profiles and walls that you could write messages on. Ah, life was so simple back then.

Now every time I sign on, I’m barraged with links and updates and conversations and photos and stuff people “like” and my brain explodes.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of Facebook. I “like” it, if you will. I think it’s really interesting.

Most of the time, I don’t care about 80% of the information posted by my Facebook friends, but scanning through their updates this morning, I started thinking that who I am friends with and what they are talking about really says a lot about me as a person.

And it seems that my status, according to Facebook, is that I’m getting OLD.

Here are some of the examples of the statuses I encountered in my news feed today:

“Headed to NC to meet our new nephew.”

“Happy anniversary babe!”

“I will not be one of those parents who talk about their kids’ bodily functions. But dude, omg. She’s so tiny!”

“Feeling sort of old because all I want is $$$ for Home Depot so I can get new faucets, sinks & light fixtures.”

“I have a dancing baby in my belly!”

 “Happy 3rd birthday to my hilarious daughter!”

Yes, that’s right – my Facebook friends, most of whom I consider to be my peers, are all yammering away about babies, home improvements, and long-term relationships. Next thing you know, I’ll be seeing status updates about AARP discounts, playing Bingo, and what was for lunch in the retirement community cafeteria.

The days of reading about studying for tests, going to parties, and recovering from the subsequent hangovers have long since passed me by. Most of the people I associate with have become spouses, parents, homeowners, and working professionals.

Now there’s nothing wrong with this. As a 28-year-old woman who has matured at a relatively normal rate, you would hope that my friends and acquaintances would have done the same. But looking at their collective status updates today, I was suddenly struck by the fact that I am no longer in limbo between young professional, having fun, working for the weekend and settled, responsible, bill-paying adult. I am squarely in the settled, responsible phase.

Luckily, I’m ok with that. In fact, the settled, responsible phase is a lot more relaxing, involves a lot less drama, and I think I can hear my liver sighing with relief.

Thanks to my work friends for inspiring this post and telling me about this hilarious website showcasing parents on Facebook whose children will grow up with major privacy issues!

To all my Facebook friends – I hope you have a great weekend full of changing diapers, working overtime, driving mini vans, staying in on Saturday night, and doing all of the things us settled, responsible adults do!

Happy Friday!

5 ways I might screw up my future kids

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I know, I know, I’m jumping the gun a little – you have to actually have kids (or want to have them) before you can screw them up. But I’ve always been the type of person who worries plans in advance. Some might say I need to be more spontaneous, but I just take comfort in the fact that not much ever surprises me. And if it does – I freak out.

By thinking of all of the things I could do that might possibly turn my children into horrible people before they become actual people, I feel like I might be able to avoid them (the things I could do, not the children…although avoiding your children seems like a great way to screw them up…didn’t crack the top 5 though). We’ll see.

1. When Gatsby is sleeping on my lap while I’m watching TV and a catchy song (usually an iPod commercial) comes on, I like to pick him up, stand him on his hind legs and make him dance until he bites me. I’m truly concerned about how difficult it might be to control this same urge with a baby.

2. One time, this thought actually crossed my mind: Even if I have a boy someday, what’s the harm in dressing him in girl clothes when I take him out in public for the first few months of his life? They’re so much cuter than boy clothes. And I think I might like my baby more if I can put bows in its hair. No one will know the difference…

Cute, right? Sure it's a girl...?

3. As an adolescent, I had glasses, braces, bad skin and was a spelling bee champ. Will also had glasses and bad skin and was a geography bee champ . In other words, our nerdiness knew no bounds. Our future kids are already facing uphill battles based on genetics alone!

4. Will and I were both pretty good students, so if our kids don’t do well in school, I’m either going to accuse them of being lazy and not trying hard enough or seriously consider how likely it was that the hospital gave us the wrong baby. These kinds of expectations may be a tad unhealthy to put on a child who I haven’t even met. And yet, here they are.

5. I watch all of the Real Housewives shows on Bravo. I really hope those shows get cancelled (what am I saying!?) before my kids are old enough to watch TV because they really shouldn’t be watching that stuff. And I don’t trust myself not to watch it just because they’re in the room. The excuse, “they don’t understand it anyway” would probably escape my lips and then, before I know it, they’ll be walking around talking about “bubbies” and asking why we don’t have a house in the Hamptons. Also, I really don’t want them thinking that Kelly Bensimon is what normal moms look like. Lets leave the unrealistic expectations to me, ok kids?

Ode to Miami Beach

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Want to hear about our trip to Miami last weekend?

Hopefully you do because I just spent 20 minutes of my life composing a song about it. Or, I took a song that was already composed and made up new words.

I present to you a little ditty entitled Party in Miami Beach. Please sing to the tune of Party in the U.S.A. by the always classy Miley Cyrus, because I intuitively knew getting that song stuck in your head is exactly what you needed right now.

If you want, you can picture me singing it to you (a serenade, if you will). My voice sounds a lot like Christina Aguilera’s. Maybe a little bit more soulful. Enjoy.

I hopped off the plane in Miami

With bleary eyes and a need for sun.

Welcome to the land of overpriced drinks – and where can I get one?

Jumped in the cab, here I am for the first time

Look to my right and I see a drag show sign

This is all so crazy, he really looks like a lady!

 

We get to South Beach and see all the Art Deco

And a cute little gecko

That’s when we changed our clothes and we hit the beach

 

And saw an old guy in a thong.

An old guy in a thong.

An old guy in a THONG!

 

So I put my hands up

To cover my face

And make that nastiness go away

Skin folds galore like yeah

Butt floss, no more like yeah

 

I put my hands up

My eyes, my eyes!

I know I probably uttered a screech

Yeeeaa-aa-aah it’s a party in Miami Beach!

 

Walking to the club down Collins Ave.

Everybody’s speaking Spanish now

Like “Hola chica, que paso?”

Are we sure this is an American town?

 

So hard with these juice heads all around me

Definitely like a Jersey Shore party

‘Cause there’s a TV crew and JWOWW

And no, I’m not joking with you now

 

My tummy’s turnin’ and I see The Situation

What an awesome vacation!

That’s when I almost got to take a cell phone pic

 

But MTV guy yelled at me

The MTV guy yelled at me

The MTV guy yelled at ME!

 

So I put my hands up

They’re leaving us now

My chance at fame flies away

I’m all nonchalant like yeah

Idiotic smile on my face like yeah

 

I put my hands up

Let’s go get a drink

A mojito must be within reach

Yeeeaa-aa-aah it’s a party in Miami Beach!

 

Yes, we really saw JWOWW and The Situation filming a Jersey Shore episode. And I made eye contact with Mr. Situation himself! For those venturing to South Beach in the near future, they appear to be working at a yogurt place on Collins Ave. Don’t be surprised if you see Will and me milling about in the background in one of the Season 2 episodes…

Home is in my chest cavity

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Home is where the heart is.

So…my home is in my chest cavity? Sounds warm and cozy enough! I hope I have cable in there. And WiFi.

Yes, I know I’m being too literal. But I have an issue with that saying. While it is a lovely sentiment, what if you don’t know where your figurative “heart” is?

If you read this blog regularly and don’t space out while you’re reading or carelessly skim the words because you’ve got more important things to do, you know that Will and I spent a few days in Miami this past weekend. The trip was lots of fun. South Beach is a beautiful, sunny place filled with loose women, crack heads, members of the Jersey Shore cast, and American Apparel stores. We had a blast! I’ll tell you more about it in my next post when I have a chance to upload my pictures.

Anyway, as the end of our vacation neared, I found myself thinking about going home. I hate when vacations end, but it’s always nice to get back to good ol’ familiar Illinois – land of Cubs fans, deep dish pizza, and Walter E. Smithe (you dream it, we build it!).

But WAIT! Hold the phone! Insert the sound of a vinyl record screeching to a halt here!

That lovely place I was envisioning myself returning to? I don’t live there! That was Chicago, or more specifically Wheaton (land of 1,000 churches and even more religion-based judgements! (Sorry Wheaton, I love you. Muah!)).

So that was weird. For a split second, I had actually forgotten that I now live in St. Louis. It seems that when I think of going home, going back to what is familiar and what I envision my daily life to be, I still think of my hometown.

So I guess whoever wrote the home is where the heart is saying would conclude that my “heart” and therefore my “home” is in Wheaton. But that’s so far from where I actually live – from my job, my cute apartment, my husband, and – dear God – my dog! It doesn’t seem right that my “home” isn’t where those things are.

Basically, myself and my heart are homeless. My physical self is happily living in St. Louis, but my heart is in Wheaton, probably rubbing it in by going to the Popcorn Shop every day and taking the train downtown to take walks by the lake and go out to nice restaurants. No fair.

Thus, I’m not a fan of the home is where the heart is saying. If it was on Facebook, I would not “like” it. I would be one of those people commenting on why there isn’t a “dislike” button.

I like to think that I just take my “home” with me wherever I go – that way, I’m always there! So for now, I’m going to go with the literal interpretation and say that my home is inside of me…possibly in my chest cavity, but I’d have to have an X-ray to positively determine that.

Reasons # 1,236 and #1,237 that I’m not ready to have babies

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Sometimes I really like being alone.

This past weekend, Will had a lot going on. A bunch of his high school friends were in town for the Mark Gessford Memorial Scholarship trivia night (which was a HUGE success!), so he was preparing for that and hanging out with everyone pretty much nonstop Friday through Sunday. I was feeling lazy and tired and wasn’t as involved in the trivia night planning, so I just decided to relax and stay home by myself for most of the weekend. And it was AWESOME.

I’m not one of those people who gets bored when I’m by myself. In fact, when I find myself faced with some precious “me” time, my mind reels with all the exciting possibilities of things I can do: Read a book! Give myself a pedicure! Catch up on my DVR! Write! Go for a run! Go shopping! Just sit outside and think! (I’m serious, I’ve done that before.)

The thing is, I really enjoy myself. And by that I mean I love hanging out with just me. I’m a fantastic companion…at least for myself. I love me. I think I’m fascinating and an all-around good time. I could entertain myself for days on end without interacting with another human being and be perfectly happy.

No, I’m not a hermit and I do not hear voices in my head (that I will admit to). I just really like being alone sometimes – probably because it doesn’t happen all that often.

Here’s the thing that hit me this weekend as I was enjoying time with myself, toasting to myself, and exclaiming “Oh, go on!” to myself as I reminisced and recounted witty stories and anecdotes with myself (I promise I’m not crazy – it’s called exaggerating for the sake of entertainment, people):

Once I have kids, I will most likely spend the next few years of my life never being alone. EVER.

In reality, it will probably be a struggle to get any precious alone time until my kids set off for college – and then who knows, I might have a bored, retired husband to contend with.

So I guess that’s just another factor that will increase my risk of post-partum depression.

The good thing is that I’m giving myself a couple of years to let this sink in. Maybe I should try to spend a lot of time alone between now and my first kid so that I get really sick of myself. But trying to hate myself just doesn’t seem beneficial to my mental health. Plus, who am I kidding? I could never hate me! Look at this face!

Precious.

And/or scary.

Oh, and reason #1,237 that I’m not ready to have babies is that I want to be able to book last minute trips to Miami…like we just did for this weekend! I’m pretty sure going on vacation at the drop of a hat is not very baby-conducive.

Hand me a mojito and cue that Will Smith song! Adios St. Louis! Hola, la playa!

Bulls, Beatles and Back to the Future: My adolescent loves

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I was driving home from work yesterday when the perfectly coiffed, bobble-headed pre-teen heartthrob otherwise known as Justin Bieber came on the radio. After my knee-jerk (or elbow-jerk) reaction to change the station, I got to thinking – if the 13-year-old me was living in 2010, who would my celebrity crush be?

Zac Efron?

 

Robert Pattinson?

Little Bieber?

Is having weird flat-ironed hair a requirement for teen heartthrobs these days?

I guess it’s an improvement from Justin Timberlake’s brillo pad Bozo wig in the late nineties.

To be honest, the 13-year-old me had some slightly unconventional celebrity crushes. Sure, I held my Jordan Knight New Kids on the Block trading cards especially close to my heart, and I managed to convince myself that I was probably J.C. Chasez’s “type” and all we had to do was meet and it would be love at first sight.

But neither Jordan nor J.C. with their smooth dance moves and disturbing falsettos could hold a candle to the main celebrity crushes of my twisted adolescent life. I like to refer to them as The Big Three.

#1 – B.J. Armstrong

Ok people who didn’t live in Chicago in the nineties – I can hear you muttering “B.J. who?” under your breath. Allow me to introduce you to the cutest professional basketball player to ever hit the hardwood. At least as of the year 1999 – that was probably the last time I watched an NBA game.

From 1993-1996, the level of obsession I had with NBA basketball and the Chicago Bulls could best be described as fanatical (and worst described as unhealthy). And if you’re wondering why I stopped being so obsessed in 1996 right in the middle of their Repeat Three-peat, I’ll just say this: high school. Friends and a social life replaced my TV and basketball hoop on weekend nights. Thank God.

Anyway, B.J. Armstrong was the Bulls’ point guard in the early nineties and he managed to dribble his way into my heart with his cute smile and baby face. Every night, I slept underneath my B.J. Armstrong poster across the room from my B.J. Armstrong pennant. I think I might have cried when the Bulls released him in the 1995 Expansion Draft and he was snatched up by the Raptors. Since alcohol was not an option at that point, I drowned my sorrows in Nutty Bars.

#2 – Paul McCartney

When all the other girls in high school were swooning at the sight of the Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC on MTV (ok fine, I liked those groups too), I was watching A Hard Day’s Night and adding to my ever-increasing collection of Beatles CDs. My B.J. Armstrong poster was replaced by this poster of the Fab Four.

Paul was my dream man. Musically talented with a cute baby face (noticing a pattern here?). He wanted to hold my hand. And I would have given anything to oblige.

The weird thing is that in real time, Paul McCartney was actually a wrinkly (yet still charming) old man. This Paul did not interest me – I was all about the mop-top Paul in tight pants on the Ed Sullivan Show. Also, I really liked the long-haired hippie Paul and the way he sang “Smiles awaa-aa-aa-aake you when you rise” in Golden Slumbers. Who am I kidding, I still love the guy.

#3 – Michael J. Fox

It all started with Alex P. Keaton on Family Ties. “Alex Keaton, he’s so cute!” (If you get that reference, give yourself a point. This point has no value and cannot be redeemed for cash. Just know that I like you.)

On most Sunday nights in the 80s, you could find me at my grandparents’ house watching Family Ties. I remember being disappointed whenever I heard the production credit, “Sit Ubu, sit. Good dog!”– that meant the show was over.

Alex was an intelligent, outspoken Republican who was hilariously uptight, a cheapskate, and super cute. Sounds eerily similar to my husband, come to think of it…

And we can’t forget about Back to the Future. I loved Marty McFly even more than Alex. I think that movie began my love of puffy vests. And Huey Lewis. Both of those things remind me of Michael J. Fox. I think he’s my density. (You can’t get enough of my obscure references, can you??)

Ok, my lunch break was over 5 minutes ago. Time to extract myself from this haze of adolescent heartthrob love.

Who were your random celebrity crushes? Let me know so I can stop feeling so weird about the B.J. Armstrong one…

In the meantime, I’m going to work on making normal hair cool again so my kids don’t end up idolizing boy bands who make Chia Pets out of their hair or something crazy like that.

Celebrating my man and his grandpa

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Remember in my last blog post how I said my brain is like a box of chocolates? Well Forrest, you may be a simple man, but I think you got the saying right – life is too.

Right now I’m supposed to be in the Dominican Republic at Erin and Brent’s wedding. Today is Will’s birthday and we were going to celebrate by relaxing on the beach, enjoying the sun, and I was secretly trying to figure out how to get the server at dinner to stick a candle in Will’s dessert.

Metaphorically speaking, I was expecting a delicious Fannie Mae Trinidad (yum!). What I got was the nasty Caramel Cream (vomit!).

Will’s grandpa had been fighting pulmonary fibrosis for awhile and on Tuesday night, he took a turn for the worse. We cancelled our trip, thanked our lucky stars for trip insurance, and went to the hospital the next day. This morning, finally, Will’s grandpa’s constant struggle to breathe ended.

So today, I’m celebrating the lives of two great men: One man who is the center of my universe and another man who made that possible not only by simply existing, but by helping to mentor, influence and mold Will into the man I love.

With the irony of birth and death floating around in this situation, I realize I’m dangling on the precipice of a black hole of symbolism and meaning here, so I’ll take a step back. All of this sharing of my feelings is making me develop an eye twitch.

But while Will’s 28th birthday may be marked by the death of someone he loves, he and everyone else in the family were marked by the life of someone who really loved them.

So cheers to Will’s birthday and Grandpa Wall’s life! Two things definitely worth celebrating.

Now who’s got the champagne? (Hey, if I can’t have a mojito on the beach…)

Brain lottery – everyone’s a winner!

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Worky work, busy bee! That’s me today. I’m trying to get a bunch of stuff done (including this blog post over my lunch break) because I’m going to be out of commission for the rest of the week.

I don’t know about you, but I love it when “out of commission” means going on vacation and not having surgery.

Twenty-four hours from now, I hope to be relaxing on the beach, drinking a mojito, and hopefully not worrying that my spray tan looks uneven. Oh the joys of being naturally un-tannable.

So, since my mind is full of everything I have to do and racing at about 100 mph right now (I know, I’m a reckless thinker!), I’ve decided to just compile a quick list of random thoughts. It’s the Carlie Crash Lottery. Think of my brain as the clear plastic lottery ball holder thingy and the thoughts as the numbered ping pong balls. Who knows what’s going to pop up?? My mind is like a box of chocolates. Enjoy.

Random Thoughts

1. I’ve discovered that it is my fate to never run out of lotion at work. For the past 5 years, I’ve always kept one of those mini bottles of Bath & Body Works lotion at my desk. The crazy thing? I haven’t purchased a single one of them myself. They’ve all been given to me. Every time I’m almost out of one, I receive another one as a gift. Example: I literally had about 2 squirts left in my current mini bottle on Friday. On Saturday, I went to a baby shower. The favors? Mini lotions. It’s weird. And convenient. Thank you, God of Mini Lotions. I am truly blessed.

 

2. Do you know someone who always walks on their tiptoes? I do. Well, I don’t really know her but I see her at my office all time. I’m sure she’s a very nice person, but I’m concerned for the welfare of her feet. She always walks on her tiptoes! Kind of like a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Maybe she feels that heels are overrated. Maybe she’s right. But I doubt it.

3. My dog was making some really weird noises this morning. He gets a little anxious when he can tell I’m about to leave for work. Not because he’s going to miss me, but because I always give him a treat. This morning, the agony of suspense really got to him. It was like he was growling, barking and crying all at the same time. It actually sounded like he was trying to form words. What’s the deal Gatsby? You know I don’t speak Spanish.

4. Sometimes I’ll do something and I’ll think to myself, “that is so Raven.”

Ok, that random thought is actually courtesy of Zach Galifianakis on SNL, but I just thought of it and it amused me.

5. I love putting up my email out-of-office message at work. It’s like telling everyone who wants me to do something to “talk to the hand.”

Ok, that’s it. My brain is fried. I need a nap. Or a vacation. I’ll take the latter!

PEACE.

Here’s the part where I sell out

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Guess what!? I found out that people I don’t know actually read my blog!

I had assumed that for the most part, my readers consisted of family members and friends (of the real life and Facebook varieties). Turns out that somehow, miraculously, other random people of the world have ventured onto this site of their own free will.

I have proof!

A couple of weeks ago, I was contacted by the makers of Edwards Desserts. They had read my blog (see?) and wanted to know if I would try some of their desserts for free and then write about them.

Desserts? For free? I didn’t have to think too hard about this one. I’m a big advocate of people giving me free stuff. If the makers of Dog Crap in a Paper Bag offered to give me their product for free, I’d probably take it.

But it gets better. The desserts are actually delicious. Score!

So far, I’ve tried two varieties of their frozen dessert singles: the Hot Turtle Brownie with Ice Cream and the Hot Fudge Brownie with Ice Cream. The verdict? Yum.

 

Both products give you the deliciousness of a freshly baked brownie with ice cream on top without the hassle of actually baking the brownies or buying a whole container of ice cream when you really just want one scoop. And it only takes 45 seconds for this tasty treat to get from the freezer to your mouth. Eating your feelings has never been easier!

But seriously folks, these bad boys are good. And how rude would I be to go on and on about them and not offer any to you, my loyal readers? I’m no Emily Post, but I do have some manners.

Unfortunately, I only have 5 free desserts to give out. So here’s the solution: a contest! Fun!

You should really pay attention to this part of the post if you like free stuff.

The first 5 people to comment on this blog post will receive a coupon for FREE Edwards Desserts from me! They can be found in all major grocery store chains. Please leave your email address or a way that I can contact you on the off chance that you, like the generous people at Edwards Desserts, are not one of my friends or family members.

And if no one comments, don’t worry my feelings won’t be hurt. That’s just 10 more free desserts for me (there are 2 in every package)!

You can follow Edwards Desserts on Facebook (http://facebook.com/edwardsdesserts ) and Twitter (@EdwardsDesserts).

If you are lucky enough to win one of the free dessert coupons, feel free to tweet or leave a comment on their Facebook wall about whether you liked it – they really want to know!

Also, if you have a mom who is awesome and likes Hollywood red-carpet events, you should seriously consider entering her in the Edwards Desserts Mother’s Day contest (see their Facebook fan page for more info). If your entry is chosen, Mom gets to glam it up and flirt with Ryan Seacrest and you secure your spot as her favorite offspring for life. Win-win.

So…let the comments roll in! May the force be with you!

Who knew selling out could taste so good??