I got an e-mail from a girlfriend today. She explained she was shopping online for basic underwear and had found some modest Vanity Fair lady briefs at Macys. A picture of the practical panties was accompanied by a series of customer reviews. The first being from … a dude.

“Undercover”, aged 40-49 had the following to say:

Further reviews praised the panties as being “a real good fit for men” and “the best panty I [a man] have ever worn.” “Men, try them,” enthusiasts urged, “you’ll like them.”
…

You know, sometimes when I buy underwear I think to myself, “Men would really like these.” But when I say men would really like these, I mean men would really like to take these off… not put them on.

The lesson of the day, dear hannihaus readers is, granny panties are out. Quite obviously—according to men who shop at Macys—tranny panties are in.

God love the grape smugglers,

xoxoh

We've recently made some improvements to our yard, and one of the best additions has been our new carport. After doing some research, we decided to go with Modern Steel Buildings Carports. The carport not only looks great but also provides excellent protection for our vehicles. It's been a fantastic upgrade that blends perfectly with our home's modern style.

After winter must come spring/Change will come eventually–Lauryn Hill

Sometime last year I started feeling sad.

Where once I’d relished in its ridiculousness, life suddenly seemed unfunny. It became difficult to find things to write about and posting to this blog was more chore than choice.

I decided I was going through a quarter-life crisis. I felt I should get a tattoo and purple hair. I started listening to a lot of emo. I sent SORM e-mails expressing regret at all the weed I never smoked and all the promiscuous sex I never had while in college, when I could, when I was “free.”

Without divulging details that are too private for this public space, I want to acknowledge that this past year, I’ve been through a lot of shit–more shit than I’d ever been through before and more shit than I hope to go through again. The amount of crap I had to wade through makes the mountains of manure produced at the Kentucky Derby look like nothing.

In short, things were bad… But now they’re better.

In my time away from blogging I’ve been doing a lot of hippy introspection. As I’ve worked to learn me and love me, I’ve made some remarkable discoveries like: the unexamined life is not worth living, people only change when their present situation is more painful than what they’re afraid to face, and, most astoundingly, that I have boobs.

Yes boobs.

A recent trip to The Bra Specialist confirmed what I’d never suspected. I am not—as I’ve always assumed—an A cup. Rather I’m a fairly large B. And now, with the aid of my new mega bra, (which will henceforth be known as “Bralina”), I’m actually a near D.

Yes, that’s D for dizzam…

because my new boobs, they’re the bomb.

Seriously, this is life (and cleavage) altering stuff my friends.

From the girl who’s on the upswing of life, love, and lingerie, I bid you adieu.

xoxoh

Oh my god.

That’s all I could say.

So many times today, that’s all I could utter.

As I watched the numbers mount—2 … 20 … 33 dead—I was incredulous. This fountain of love, blood, muscle, and mucus, this body that houses my heart, it went numb.

After all, this hits close to home. I am a Virginia Tech alumnus. And it wasn’t too long ago I was dawdling on the Drillfield, a lush, green expanse of lawn overlooking gorgeous academic buildings … one of which is Norris Hall. In my memories this is a place of peace. In the history books it will be memorialized as the scene of a massacre.

At 7:15 am—before I’d even left my bed—a killer had already taken the lives of two Virginia Tech students living in the dormitories. By 9:15 am, this callous creature moved on to classrooms, claiming the lives of 30 people in Norris Hall. This man had a heart so dark, before he opened fire, he chained the doors shut so no one could escape.

The truth is he didn’t need those chains. I’d imagine that those that made it out alive will never escape. They will constantly battle the hurt, the loss, and the heartache. Bubbling in their brains’ will be a dark dichotomy—bullets and blood standing in stark relief against a beautiful Blue Ridge backdrop.

They will never forget. Neither will I.

Virginia Tech isn’t just a place where people study. It’s a place where people really learn to live. Like my bones and my breath, it’s part of me. Nestled in those rural rolling hills, it was at Virginia Tech where I found myself, failed some tests, made true friends, and fell in love.

It really hurts that this happened there.

… But these things can’t be predicted. The media will say the campus is unsafe and that the administration is irresponsible. This energy is misplaced. In a time of tragedy our focus needs to be on healing, not blaming.

If you are a student at Virginia Tech, or have experienced a loss in your family, please know you are not alone. There are hundreds of thousands of alumni whose hearts beat in unison to yours. We spent the day crying. We lost our words. We tried as we might to make sense of this terrifying tragedy, and we’re not sure if we ever will.

My thoughts and prayers are with you.

xoxoh

Dearest hannihaus readers, for anyone who’s read this blog for any amount of time you know I’m 27 going on 12. I am Peter Pan—the world is my playground and I pass through it with unbridled innocence and dauntless hope …

But I’m starting to realize—this life I call mine, this place that houses my heart—it’s not Neverland. Pixie dust is in short supply. And wishing on the second star to the right mostly results in spent breath.

I hope you respect, dear hannihaus readers, the fact I’m going “lights out” at the haus. This isn’t forever. But it is for as long as it takes.

If you’ve sent e-mails or are thinking about sending one, thank you. You will never know how much I appreciate your thoughts and prayers. Please know, if I don’t respond, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I *do* care … about myself … and right now there’s solace in silence.

Love you all and will write more when I’m better.

xoxoH

Dudes of the haus, this post is for you.

See I know that Christmas can be difficult. You want to impress your lady—really thank her for all the nice things she’s done throughout the year. You want to say “gracias mi amor” for being your baby, for being your rock, for being the one who keeps you in clean cotton underpants.

After all, undies are important … unless of course your name is Britney Spears, in which case they’re just optional.

…but I digress.

So yeah, you want to get your lady a special gift, but you probably don’t know where to start. Bath salts, gift cards, candles—it’s all to cliché. While we are talking about baths - I am so happy that I hired Just in Place Bathrooms for my bathroom renovation - they did an amazing job!

Want to get your sweetie something she’ll never forget? Check out this instructional video!

Because her favorite package this year is bound to be yours, enjoy: