Oh My Freak

1. This is the first time ever that I've posted a photo without using flickr and it has actually worked. I realize that I'm the only one who is excited about this.

2. This is a picture of my nephew that I lifted from my sister's flickr account. It's appropriately titled "When dad picks the outfit." It makes me cry from the laughter and laugh from all the crying.

3. Don't fool yourself into thinking that groceries at Super Target are as cheap as those at Super Walmart. Also, don't try to "pick up a few things" when you are hungry because you will end up spending $78.49 and eating a dinner of rasperry juice pops, crab rangoon (frozen), steakhouse rolls (worth another trip to their bakery), steak, creme brulee (frozen), with broccoli (very old) thrown in to keep the guilt at bay. You will also buy things like salmon with dill already on it--because that's very hard to apply yourself, and pears that come in a special plastic package that has a ripeness indicator. And you will tell yourself that the ripeness indicator was worth the extra $2.00, because then the pears won't go bad. That would just be wasteful, you know.

4. I've had the hiccups for so long now that I've asked Joe to kill me 3 times already.

5. Alicia - don't read this!! My friend from work went to the hospital on Saturday night
to deliver a baby girl. She will be coming home with a baby boy, but not because they switched the babies at the hospital. I didn't know this could still happen. Especially since she had a 3-D ultrasound and everything.

6. One day I'm going to do a post on all the reasons why it must be fun to be married to me, but for now I will just give the example of me presently pestering Joe to turn off The Alamo, by using the rationale that we all know how it ends. He's too full of steakrolls and perfectly ripe pears to argue with me right now.

7. Design a Blog has gone out of business. Right after I earned a free re-design. What's up with that?

8. Meredith Grey is somewhat of a slut, no? That's all for now.

Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood?

We received a notice in the mail from the sheriff himself that a sexual offender/predator resides within 1,000 feet of our house. Yippee. I think this is great that they perform this service. The notice even had his photo and general statistics. I’m glad that I don’t have any kids presently, but my street and neighborhood are stupid with kids. It’s like an obstacle course to get to my driveway every day.

I thought that I lived in a safe development. There is even a police officer who brings home his car each night and parks it on the street. Last weekend while he was at work, a neighbor’s car was broken into and her CD player was stolen.

Then there is the issue that someone “planted” fake poinsettias all around the development before Christmas in an attempt to decorate. It’s February 24, and the faded things are still everywhere I look. It’s a little embarrassing to invite people over now.

Sex offenders, snakes, thieves, plastic flowers. I hope it doesn’t take famine, floods, and locusts to get us out of here. I want to move back downtown. If my car’s going to get broken into anyway, it may as well be while I’m eating in a nice restaurant or soaking up some culture and diversity.

I'm Absolutely Bereft

No one I know watched Project Runway this season. If you did, please step forward now because I need to talk to someone about it. I kind of lost interest when Nick was voted off because I looooved him. Daniel V. will no doubt win, and that's great, as long as Santino doesn't. Oh, what do you care? You didn't watch it.

Last night they had a reunion special and I laughed so hard that I still have a scratchy throat from making myself cough. I haven't coughed from laughter in some time. Anyway, it was fabulous with all the behind the scenes shots and the drama and the impersonations of each other.

At one point Heidi Klum was talking about a Barbie that my beloved Nick designed the outfit for and she said something like "I was so lucky to get one of those dolls. They sold like bagels." She turned to Tim Gunn and said "That's right? Bagels?" And he said "Yeah, that's fine. But it's hotcakes."

See what you missed!

I'm What You Would Call An Asshole

Last week I broke down and bought a new cell phone. I figured I needed it since I dropped the last one so many times that pieces were falling off and it was pulling my hair each time I used it. I knew I needed some kind of hands free thing too, because I loathe talking on the phone unless I’m driving. Oh yeah, and to spare the lives of many innocent pedestrians and fellow drivers. I opted for one of the Bluetooth things, and I finally figured out how to use it last night. This morning I was talking to Christine and this is where I became an asshole:

Me: I’m using my new ear piece so I don’t kill anyone today.
Her: Is it one of those Bluetooth ones?
Me: Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m not going to wear it around all day like some pretentious asshole so everyone knows I have a Bluetooth.
Her: Oh. My husband wears his all the time.
Me: Whoops!

I’d like to apologize now to Christine and G. and to everyone else who gets offended by my sweeping generalizations on a daily basis. I can admit that I was wrong just this once, because now I know the glory that is Bluetooth technology. I have been wearing the thing all day, and I get so much done! I can talk and type at the same time! I’ll just try to keep it hidden under my hair so people don’t roll their eyes and think I’m using it as a status symbol and call me an asshole behind my back. Kind of like I used to do.

There's a Piece of Duct Tape on the Bottom of my Foot, But What's New With You?

Ok, this is hard to admit. I have 3 plantars warts on the bottom of my right foot. The fact that I have warts on my body at all freaks me out so badly that I’m ready to gnaw off my diseased foot like a hamster. I’m thinking I got them when I started getting pedicures on a regular basis. I had one when I was 12 and on the swim team. When it was removed there was a lot of pain and bleeding and crying involved.

I decided to take care of this embarrassing problem last week. First I went to my primary care physician. She said “Yeah…I can’t do anything for those. You can take something over the counter or go to a podiatrist.” That visit cost $20.00.

Yesterday I went to the podiatrist and he said that I could take something over the counter, have them cut out, use liquid nitrogen which would take several visits, or put a piece of duct tape over them for a week at a time and file off the dead skin each time I changed the tape. That visit cost $20.00.

I’ve decided to go with the duct tape treatment. I spent $40.00 to learn that the cure was sitting on a shelf in my garage the whole time, and I learned that it’s true that you can use duct tape for absolutely everything.

Muzak Is Trying To Be Kool

I'm working at Panera (refer to entry below) because they have free Wi-Fi. I think that's the only reason this place is so packed. Surely it's not for their food.

Anyway, the reason for the post is because they are playing the Muzak version of "My Boo" by Alicia Keys and Usher.

Is that hilarious, or have I been drinking too much caffeine again? Oh my God. Now it's "Lady Marmalade."

Dear Lord, Please Give Me The Strength To Not Kill Someone Today

It has been at least 11 years since I have lived in a home with a family. You know, the kind of family who yells from room to room, from downstairs to upstairs that dinner’s ready, that you need help finding your shoes before school, etc. I have been living with roommates, by myself, and with my husband who I have never known to even raise his voice.

I hadn’t even noticed how quiet my life was until recently. I work in a pretty small office full of people who live with their families and more than likely yell to each other from different parts of their houses, which is totally normal. Somehow, this has become acceptable behavior for the workplace. It’s not ok to yell at me to come over to your office. It’s not ok to yell to someone that they have a phone call when we have an intercom system. It’s definitely not ok to yell while standing behind my chair when I am on the phone. I can’t take it anymore. Let’s just pretend to be professionals. We’ll play dress up, and type on a computer, and go to a restaurant for lunch, and we’ll talk with our inside voices. Just for one day. Come on, it’ll be fun.

Happy Birthday Christine!

Funny how being older was advantageous when we were young. You were the first to drive, get into an R rated movie, vote, buy alcohol, etc. Now as we age, things are looking up for me. I'll be the last one to get Botox, buy Metamucil, and wear orthopedic shoes. Ha! Since I suffer from paralysis when faced with writing mushy sentiments in greeting cards, I will write them here for the world wide web to read.

There is not one thing we haven't been through together: birth, death, relationships, break ups, marriage, divorce, middle school, high school, college, first jobs, first "real" jobs, successes, failures, and getting our wisdom teeth taken out.


Everyone should have a best friend like you. Someone who has known her for 20 years and is not yet sick of her, someone who knows her so completely and shares so many private jokes that people around them continually tell them that they’re only funny to each other. Everyone should have someone who they can call at any time, even if it’s the 7th time that day, and sing as a greeting “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.”

Happy birthday Toots. There is no one I’d rather lie in bed with reading self help books with a box of Dunkin Donuts between us. I love you like a fat kid loves cake.


***I've been instructed to clarify that this photo was taken when Christine was 8 months pregnant.

Oh No He Didn't

I thoroughly enjoy getting comments. Nice ones though, not ones where I'm being called the C word. Today I got this one:

"I like making fun of people too! My blog is all about it. For a women you seem very intelligent.

Mr. Morris"

Thanks for stopping by Mr. Morris. I appreciate the thought behind the comment. Though I don't have any test scores to back me up, I'd like to think I'm intelligent for a human being.

I'm going to unleash my dearest Heather the feminist on this one. Go to it little lady. (What, you don't like being called that?)

Forever a Townie

My fair city Freakville is divided by various bodies of water. One includes the intracoastal waterway, which divides the beach from the city. This is widely referred to as “the ditch,” though never, ever by me. (I don’t call the Atlantic Ocean “the pond” either, so bite me if you think I should.) I love the beach. I love to vacation at the beach. I may even consider living at the beach one day. I will never adapt the beach mentality though. I will always remain a “townie,” because that’s what you’re called when you live on the inland side of the ditch. I bring all this up because it has been in the 20’s and 30’s this week, and when I saw some people at the beach the other day, they were still wearing flip flops and shorts. I don’t get beach people. I hate how they walk in the middle of the streets at a very slow pace, how they pull their bicycles out right in front of you on busy roads, how they "ride out" category 4 hurricanes like it's a joke, and how the very old women still feel like they can walk around in just bikinis. I don’t know if this is all beach towns, or if there is just such a noticeable contrast here. Once a guy in front of me in the Burger King Drive Thru was not in a vehicle, but on rollerblades. I also saw a woman coming out of Starbucks with her pet ferret on a leash. These things happened on the same day, and I was the only one who seemed to think they were strange. I’m sure I’m missing out on quite a lot by not spending more time at the beach. Things other than drunks yelling at passing cars, crawfish festivals, and women sunbathing nude on their balconies. That’s okay though. I’ll just continue to get whatever it is that I need from the beach and speed back over the ditch to the safety of my people – the marginally normal.

Commence Writing Me Hate Mail Now

One day I bought two barstools from Bed, Bath and Beyond. One broke, and it has taken me two months to find a replacement. Last night I finally found one, which was located on a high shelf. It involved taking down three of the wrong colored stools, and wrestling with a horizontal metal bar which was supposed to prevent the correctly colored stools from falling and hitting someone in the head. Slight flaw in the engineering logic there, because then it was impossible to get to the stools behind the bar. This is the single time in my life that I’ve gone to this store and there’s been no one up in my grill asking if they can help me. I wrestled for several minutes to get the metal bar down (I don’t work well above my head). Finally a stool broke free and jumped off the shelf like a lemming. First it hit me squarely in the head, and then broke into kindling as it hit the floor. I honestly had that cartoon moment where I saw tweety birds circling my head. Now fueled by anger and adrenaline, I jerked the stool I wanted down with my super human strength and sustained no further injury. I have this really annoying honesty/good karma personality trait that compels me to tell someone if they’ve given me back too much change, etc. It really gets on my nerves. I pushed down all those urges and left the piece of shit bar stool lying on the floor. I figured it was retribution for my concussion and for my broken sunglasses which had been sitting on my head.

Good God, Sign Me Up For The Mathletes

I'm not sure when I became a math nerd, but I am totally addicted to Sudoku. A game with actual numbers and logic and stuff. Sure, I can only complete the "easy" or "gentle" ones. That's on purpose though, because I wouldn't want anyone to ask me to start balancing the checkbook, or file the income taxes, or other such foolishness.

Dear IN TOUCH,

I'd like to bring to your attention a problem with my account. I don't know what's going on over at your headquarters, but I'm not receiving my subscription weekly as promised. For whatever reason, I don't get one for two weeks, then I get two on the same day. This is not allowing me to stay current on events and breaking news. I feel the way intelligent, well rounded people must feel when they receive an issue of Newsweek late. I'd like to make clear that this IS my Newsweek, and I find this practice unacceptable. People would never let me down in this way.

Falling Out of Love With You,
Sourpuss

Embarrassing Moment # 482

I Do Stupid Things.

I routinely run over curbs, scrape my hubcaps in drive thrus and banks, burn holes in the kitchen counter with candles (shh...Joe doesn't know about that one yet), burn myself while cooking, and ruin clothing because I wash lights with darks.

I Do Embarrassing Things.

Like split my poorly sewn pants, fall down in public, fall backwards off my seat at my own bachelorette party, and drink too much.

Last night I did something that falls in both categories. My friends and I went to a martini bar for Beverly's birthday. I drank far too many Almond Joy martinis, because come on, wouldn't you? They were delicious and a very pretty pink color which still puzzles me, but whatever. We were sitting in a corner, behind the DJ booth in the very crowded bar and I was giving Beverly a special, personalized birthday gift. I was singing to her that Crystal Waters song "from the back to the middle and around again, I'm going to be there to the end, 100% pure love." There may have been some accompanying head bopping and arm movements, I really don't want to know. In the middle of the song the DJ turned a SPOTLIGHT on me and yelled into the microphone "Sing It!"

People have just stopped talking about that time I fell off my chair. It's going to take years to live this one down. Asshole.

Meet This

Earlier today I was shopping in the baby section at Kohl's. (For no reason at all Alicia.) They had these sets of 5 or 6 bibs with sayings on them like "Cutie Pie" and "No Peas Please." Then I saw the low self esteem themed ones like "Tax Deduction" and "Does This Bib Make Me Look Fat?" I know that the little babies who wear these would have no idea what they say, but I guarantee that one day they will see a photo of themselves in one and ask "Mommy, was I really a tax deduction?" Things like this drive me crazy. Would I be classified as uptight if I don't think making a joke at a baby's expense is funny?

Speaking of unfunny, I admit with great shame that I watch Meet The Barkers. I don't know why, so don't bother asking me. I hate these two morons. I can't even get started on Travis, except to say please stop calling your wife "Mama" on national TV. Shanna is a fucking idiot, and I can't understand why she won't PUT ON a bra. I know that she was a Playboy centerfold, but she has real, human boobs. Not those like Pamela Anderson's who never need to see the inside of a bra again. And in this week's episode she had a complete fit over her son's $20,000 bedroom furniture which came with pink finials. God forbid. Forget the war in Iraq and famine in Africa, the woman's biggest problem is pink finials. And P.S.: you have two small children - get out of bed. I know she's pregnant this season, but I think she spends this much time in bed regardless. I thought spending 20 hours per day in bed was one of those things you gave up when you had kid. My bad.

Doggy Steps

My father is the most difficult person to shop for. He is one of those people who buys everything he wants right away. This leaves three standard gifts that I rotate through: polo shirts, golf balls, and Best Buy gift cards. I'm pretty sure I've even bought him boring t-shirts and underpants in the past just to throw something new into the mix. And I try not to get my feelings hurt when I go to his house and find things like dress shirts from five Christmases ago still in their boxes.

Imagine my delight when I saw this on TV the other day:



This will be perfect for helping his 18-year-old cat get onto the bed every night. I think I'm going to order it, and I can predict two things that will happen when he receives it. 1) He will say "I could have made that myself." 2) The cat will croak the next day.