Telling It Like It Is…Hey, Wait A Minute!

Happy summer everyone! We are back again with some exciting news!

Yesterday, “Telling it like it is” went viral. Can you believe it?!

Yes, that’s been our tagline FOREVER right there in our header, but suddenly yesterday the world decided to sit up and take notice of it. Our blog hits went through the roof from searches for our tagline! We’ve always known it was a great phrase, but now we have proof! It’s so nice to be appreciated! *happy sob*

Then we turned on the TV.



Yep, it seems that New Jersey Governor Chris Christie is running for president and his campaign slogan is “Telling it like it is”.

Chris Christie for President

Well, well, well…doesn’t that look familiar!

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery–and CLEARLY he must be a fan and reader (Hi, Chris!)–but we feel a little bit irked just the same.

I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. We did start the *almost* successful grassroots campaign to install Arie as the next star of The Bachelor. When you add that to the fact that we single handedly DOUBLED the number of Nubrellas sold from one to two after featuring them as a Pinterest Nightmare, it was almost a given that the mainstream would inevitably start paying attention. We are trendsetters. We just have to accept it.

A Dose of Nubrella TRENDY!

Still, we are kicking ourselves for not trademarking our nifty little tagline when we had the chance so we could get in on this action. Maybe we could retroactively trade mark it? Is that a thing? We think that might be a thing!

Apparently it’s NOT a thing. And even if it were, we would be out of luck. The attorneys at our home office have assured us that Governor Christie’s slogan is completely different from ours. You see, we “Tell it like it is” and he is “Telling it like it is”.

WHAT? That’s totally the same, right? NOPE!

The wisest legal minds our money could buy (i.e. a quick, free search on paired with knowledge from watching over 200 episodes of Law and Order) tell us that adding “ing” means it’s different. It’s a loophole…the ING-loophole, or as we around the Dose HQ have started calling it “ING-Gate”. Politicians always find a way to stick it to you, dammit!

So, since we have no legal recourse (and no moral or ethical leg to stand on, either) we have decided to forgo asking for monetary compensation. We can really only ask for him to do one thing in return.

No, we aren’t demanding that he change his banner to:

Thanks, Dose Girls!

Our request is really quite simple.

Should Governor Christie become President Christie, we fully expect to be named Co-Czars of Reality TV for the length of his administration. Some might say that should even be elevated to a Cabinet post, but we will not be greedy. If that’s not doable, we would totally settle on Ambassadors to Starbucks.

Until then, we’ll be right here to TELL it like it is…and trying on potential outfits for our Senate confirmation hearings just in case.





My Husband Got A Standing Ovation At Starbucks

My husband got a standing ovation at Starbucks…and it irks me.

Lucy goes to ballet twice a week. Because we have two kids and have to divide and conquer with the chauffeur duties, my husband Robert sometimes drives her to class. A mandatory part of taking her to ballet class is making sure her hair is in a bun before you drop her off. She can’t quite manage it on her own yet, so she needs a little help.

Because my husband doesn’t wear buns (or much head hair at all for that matter), I had to school him up on the whole “making a bun” process. This took several sessions, and I even had to modify my usual technique for his giant sausage fingers. He eventually mastered it (I tested him and everything), and he can now produce a perfect bun in under 10 minutes flat.

Final Exam Bun

It’s nice to have a husband who isn’t afraid to tackle the really difficult parenting tasks like preteen hairdos! Isn’t it fantastic?!


Except NO!

Here’s how it all went wrong…

Lisa: Robert just got back from ballet with Lucy, and I’m so perturbed!

Ashley: Oh, no! Did he get her there late?

Lisa: No. He was totally on time.

Ashley: Did he forget to send her with her ballet bag?

Lisa: No. She had all her shoes and gear.

Ashley: Well, I can certainly see why you are so upset. THE NERVE!

Lisa: Ha, ha, ha. When you hear the injustice that has taken place you will feel my pain.

Ashley: I’m always up for a good rant. Lay it on me, sister.

Lisa: He picked her up from school and, since they had 30 minutes to kill before ballet started, they stopped at Starbucks.

Ashley: Aw, don’t be upset! You take her to Starbucks all the time. She knows you’re the “fun one” too. Sometimes.

Lisa: No, I have no problem with *that*. I would not begrudge them Starbucks goodness. It’s what happened there that has me irritated.

Ashley: Did they forget to bring you a latte?

Lisa: Well, now that you mention it, yes, but this is even worse!

Ashley: Worse than depriving you of a latte? Oh, man!!

Lisa: Oh, yes. After she changed into her leotard in the restroom, he got to work putting her hair in a bun.

Ashley: Okaaaay….

Lisa: Well, after he performed the bun procedure I so carefully taught him, the craziest thing happened. An elderly couple at a neighboring table actually STOOD UP AND STARTED CLAPPING FOR HIM, and not in an ironic way. They were clapping and cheering because he was able to put her hair in a bun. Basically, they gave him a standing ovation because he was parenting, FFS.

Ashley: NO!

Lisa: YES! And here’s the worst part. Once that table stood up FIVE OTHER TABLES DID, TOO!  It spread throughout the whole shop. My favorite barista, Mark, even did one of those really loud whistles with his fingers. They were all going nuts and telling him what a great dad he was because he put her hair in a damn bun. I have literally done this millions of times with no accolades whatsoever.

Ashley: In fact, doesn’t she normally complain that you aren’t gentle enough?

Lisa: Yes.

Ashley: I am full of rage on your behalf! That is SO unfair! Did he at least have the good sense to be embarrassed by the display?

Lisa: Ugh, no! He was *so* proud of himself. I think he might have even taken a bow. He couldn’t wait to tell me all about it!

Isn’t that always the way it goes?

Moms are expected to do it all. Cooking and cleaning–check. Planning birthday parties and getting the school supplies–of course. Laying out the clothes and packing the lunches–duh. All the things.

Do moms get an “attagirl” for showing their basic parenting chops? Pfftt. The usual response showing up to carpool on time isn’t, “Aw! It’s so sweet that you picked her up!” (Totally what they say to dads.) It’s more like, “You need to pull closer to the curb in the future. Also, turn off your engine if you’re idling.”

So the next time you see a mom out there keeping a toddler from licking a trash can, while identifying dinosaur species for a preschooler, and simultaneously checking long division with a preteen, consider standing up and giving her a round of applause. You know nobody else will…unless she changes her name to “dad”.



Have you ever witnessed this hideous phenomenon? Tell us your tale of woe…or your own parenting pet peeve!


Hey Girl, You Really Are A MILF!

It is no secret that Lisa is the queen of gift-giving. I don’t even bother to attempt to compete, which is why her gifts from me usually suck and my gifts from her rock!

Every partnership has its strengths and weaknesses, so she accepts for me the lame gift giver, poor wrapper that I am.

But this year, y’all, she knocked it out of the park.

Who would have ever imagined that she could top the Ryan Gosling Mini-Bust? (RGMB for short).

Fine, maybe *not* top it (because there is only one RGMB…no, seriously, I own the only one on the entire planet earth), but definitely match it in awesomeness.

Behold my gifts from this Christmas: A “Hey Girl” Ryan Gosling notebook (to go with my RGMB) and a very special bracelet…


The Starbucks cup was not part of the gift, by the way. Neither was the car clutter. The rest, though? All the magic of the awesome Dose Girl Lisa.

Here is the deal. I actually used my Hey Girl notebook while sitting in my car with my RGMB in his spot…that is where he lives, by the way. The children know that they may greet him upon getting into the vehicle and if they are really good they can pet his head. But only on special occasions. Any lint accidentally removed hurts RGMB’s feelings. He told me so.


I totally wrote this concept in my notebook while also sporting my MILF bracelet. Oh yes, I wear it every single day.

Just in case you are not aware of our Dose Girl MILF-dom, go read this post right now. And watch the video. And then read the comments. Turns out there are a lot of MILFs out there. Who knew?


Don’t listen to the haters out there who try to tell you that being a *real* MILF means wearing a string bikini sans cellulite at age 45. They are all just jealous of our amazing combination of stretch marks and elastic waistband marks from our SPANX.

What if we decided to start a MILF club?

Like the Skull & Bones of the adult women set?

Picture this scenario: You are at Target in your yoga pants and you spot another mom in her yoga pants, too. Except she looks like she could have actually come from hot yoga. You feel a little hostile until the moment she flashes you her wrist (my friend Pam said that the MILF bracelet can be like a sorority pin) as she swipes her Red Card for her $147.28 worth of toilet paper and toothpaste. And then you realize she is JUST like you. You meet eyes and wind up sharing a latte at Starbucks where you compare your cankles.

Instant friendship.

For women everywhere this could be a revolution. MILF clubs popping up nationwide. Watch out Real Housewives, there is a new reality TV franchise in town!

All I know is this. Since I started wearing my own personal MILF bracelet, I have sprouted three new chin hairs. Clearly, this is giving me magic powers and making my MILF status go all the way to eleven.