Sandra Reviews Stuff

I recently found out that a lot of companies pay for product reviews. Like, they send you free stuff, you use it, say nice things about it to strangers online, keep the free stuff, and get paid.

What the shit, internet?

And here I thought a girl had to post pictures of her skivvies online to make any money.

Naughty, naughty... Cotton Stretch... Hipsters... That's how this works, right?

Nah, apparently my brief stint in silly Amazon reviews was preparing me for something greater. As a matter of fact, Amazon, by my calculations, you owe me a free Prime membership and about 15 cases of Skin Food Peach Toner.  I'm just saying.

I use Ibotta - (Yes, that's a referral link. Yes, I'll be compensated if you sign up. I'm feeding 6 kids, don't judge me.) a nifty coupon app that gives me rebates on stuff I use already. I've done the BzzAgent thing (which for some reason is temporarily shut down so they can tweak the log in?). 

But now, it's time to expand my creativity and embark on a world of writing where I don't post to Facebook as "Only Me." 

Googled "Woman in cape." Humans are a dirty, dirty species.

So I thought, what better way to get into the swing of things than to practice reviewing on the things I'm using right now? Right?

I'm currently chugging a Dr. Pepper and shoving a glazed donut in my piehole indulging in carbonated prune juice a bubblicious soft drink and a lightly glazed pastry as I write this. 

Mom would be so proud. Also, you really CAN find anything on Google.

The Dr Pepper is satisfyingly bubbly, even though it reminds me quickly that I'm in my 30s by how quickly I have to make a mad dash to the ladie's room with a cleansing after effect.  The donut comes from a local place, and has a slight tinge of old oil, but it has super cool ghost-shaped sprinkles on it, so it takes me back to adolescence a little.

This is hard.

It's just a donut, and I now have a tiny orange ghosty sprinkle stuck in between my teeth.  So yeah, I need to go take care of that. ...with my minty fresh Colgate toothpaste!

Total! Whitening! Slays dragon breath and totally doesn't taste like peppermints your Grandma has been carrying in the bottom of her purse since the Depression!

.... I'm fired already.

And This is How They all Became the Brady Bunch

A lot has happened since the last time I rambled posted on my blog, the most notable being that I started a relationship with an amazing guy who has the equivalent of half a basketball team worth of kiddos.

For those of you not well versed in sports, a basketball team has 12 players. Half of that is 6. Six. He has six kids.

In addition to my two.

Now, his oldest is in college, and his second oldest lives with his mother, so that leaves us with his remaining four and my two.

This is beginning to sound like one of those awful word math problems where Susan buys 50 watermelons and 85 bundles of grapes, which wouldn't be far off from what you might see on one of our grocery receipts.

Six kids, aged 12 through 16. Teenagers. We have SIX teenagers in our household.

I'd like to say we had to let Alice go, but she ran screaming before we could explain that we just couldn't afford her any longer.

You would think the biggest expense would be food (it totally is), but I never expected to spend so much on deodorant, mousse, and toilet paper.  Oh my goodness, so much toilet paper.

Dear Charmin, if you're reading this, send help.

My house smells like gym socks, 6 different brands of heavily-applied perfumes and colognes, and pizza pockets. There's not enough Glade in the world to mask that, guys.

Thank goodness they're all good kids, because I really don't think my sanity would allow me to run a juvenile detention center. As long as the fridge and pantry are full and the Wi-Fi is up, it's all good.  And speaking of Wi-Fi, who knew having control of the password would magically make chores done and grades stay respectable?  

Anywho, we were trying to move from Oklahoma to Colorado over the last few months, but were waiting on the courts to make a decision since I have kids from a previous marriage, and that apparently means that my autonomy legally depends on my ex's whims until my youngest daughter's 18th birthday. Long story short, he opposed the move, drug out the proceedings, threatened to take custody of just my youngest daughter, and then managed to get the move blocked. 

Because this is so much better than Colorado.

So, this is where we're at for the time being.  I keep trying to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, but poverty in lieu of opportunity seems a bit like overkill. Still, it could be worse. I could be without a healthy sense of humor, but here we are.  I could be dying of some yucky, incurable disease, yet I'm mostly only susceptible to random bouts of the sniffles.  Our kids could all be toddlers, potty training and leaving everything in their wake destroyed and unidentifiably sticky. 

I could still be married to my ex.

*Shudder*

Have an intolerable ex that you wish you could pretend didn't exist? Have so many kids that you're considering starting your own sports team? I can't help you! But, we can avoid reality together on my Facebook page.