Friday, October 27, 2006

Why I Love Her

Me: I have something to tell you. I’m not sure you’ll want to be best friends after this.

Christine: Oh my God, what?

Me: You know how your tastes change? Well, I can’t eat Dunkin Donuts anymore. They make me sick to my stomach.

Christine: I have to sit down. Are you serious?

Me: Yeah.

Christine: How did this happen? Is this something new? I feel dizzy like I’m going to pass out.

Me: (laughter)

Christine: How can you laugh? I’m in real pain over here.

Me: Oh, sorry.

Christine: Well, since they closed all of my Dunkin Donuts, I guess it makes me feel a little better that you won’t be eating them either. This is really going to affect their profit margin.


Tuesday, October 24, 2006



My Big Fat Greek Wedding
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
Dark Chocolate
Rachael Ray


Ina Garten of The Barefoot Contessa
Movie theatre popcorn
Coffee made with freshly ground beans
The first 39 seconds of Angeles by Elliot Smith
Cold Case
Low humidity


Sunday, October 22, 2006

Someone at Target has a Sense of Humor

Whip-it! Food-Grade N2O Charger Cartridge

(If there were any kids left that didn't know you could inhale these, well, thanks Target.)
The Happy Hooker Meat Hook

Peggy Got Jumped!

(My personal favorite.)

No dirty name, it just makes me smile.


Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Anyone But Jeffrey

Picture stolen from People.


Tuesday, October 17, 2006


To keep everyone updated:

Lukewarm Mama can be found here.

Jen can be found here.

And Confessions of an Anti-Blogger can be found here.


Monday, October 16, 2006

Never Again

Joe's favorite dinner that I make is orange-glazed salmon. It's a bastardized recipe from a restaurant I once worked in.

  • Salt and pepper a salmon fillet.
  • Stick it in the oven.
  • Boil orange juice and sugar until it reduces to a glaze.
  • When salmon is almost done, pour glaze over it and stick back in the oven.
  • Top with fresh basil if the neighborhood geese have not eaten your entire herb garden.

Sounds simple, right? No, no way as my two-year-old nephew would say. Each and every time I fall victim to some law of physics: orange juice will boil over no matter what size pot you use. It will turn into a black, sticky mess that can't be cleaned off the stovetop. I actually used a stockpot tonight, and it still boiled over. I'm done, I hope Joe enjoys his last meal of sorts.

P.S. Boiling orange juice smells like urine. Want to come over?


Saturday, October 14, 2006


Like many women, I have a relationship with my hairdresser. Maybe it's just a relationship in my own mind, but I truly grow attached to them. I think that's normal with the level of trust I place in them. I know, it's just hair, but it's important in the grand scheme of things, especially if I want to leave the house during daylight hours.

First there was Abby who lived and worked in a big, pink Victorian house. Her hair was a frizzled, damaged mass of platinum blonde that stood out at all angles. Her kids and various ex-husbands ran in and out of the pink house, and it wasn't unusual for her to smoke and/or dye her own hair while cutting mine. Despite all of this, my hair never looked better. During those few years I took risks, I cut pictures out of magazines, and I tried cuts shorter than ever. The woman did great hair, but the crazy drove me out of there.

Next was Pete. He was flamboyant and had just won a huge transvestite contest when I started to see him. He was lots of fun in the bitchy, catty, hilarious way that draws me to gay men. My hair looked okay during that time. He never wrote my colors down, so I got something new each time. The last time I saw him he was completely sober and told me and another customer that the book "Flowers in the Attic" was based on him and his siblings. I was absolutely speechless. Again, crazy won and I was out of there.

Then came Barbara. Exceedingly normal and I didn't get the feeling that she talked about me as soon as I left. What I liked most about her was her obvious disdain for the human race. She treated me fine, but I could pick up on it in a kind of "takes one to know one" way. I grew attached to her. I felt like I knew her family, and she even did my hair for my wedding. It felt great to sit in her chair with the knowledge that she would cut and color my hair properly with minimal drama. In two years I followed her around to four different shops in my neighborhood. I thought this was weird, but chalked it up to her low tolerance of others. A few weeks ago I called her shop to make an appointment and was told she hadn't worked there in a month. I felt so hurt and betrayed. I felt like I had been so loyal to her and she couldn't even call me to keep me informed. I went ahead and made an appointment at the salon with another stylist. I now look like a middle aged woman with matronly hair, or even a man when I'm not wearing makeup. When I have my glasses on, well, I don't even want to talk about it.

She finally called me yesterday. I don't want to encourage this brand of crazy, but I also don't want hair that requires four different styling products just to look normal. I don't know what to do.


Friday, October 13, 2006

Let's Shop

I've fallen in love with a company called Uncommon Goods. Below is all the useless, cool shit I want to waste my money on:
Typewriter key bracelet - $140

Winnie the Pooh pillow - $56

Socks for little boys - $22.
License plate map - $3500.
Paper bag vases - $35.

Recycled wrapper clutch - $35.
Saucy tampon cases - $28.

His and Hers key holders - $25 each.
5th wheel birdhouse - $30.
Gnome-be-gone garden statue $125.
Carlos night light - $180.


Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Really Back This Time

I had a great vacation last week. My family rented a beach house on a beautiful little island in the panhandle. Perfect weather, no crowds, and bird-sized mosquitos for company.

I also got my laptop back from the Geek Squad (God bless them). While I didn't have it, I had the overwhelming urge to blog daily. Now that I have it back, that feeling will more than likely go away.

File under "Could you just scream from all the cuteness?":

Friday, October 06, 2006


Tired. Relaxed. Look like a lepper from bug bites. Laptop is at the Sony hospital so I can't upload pictures with ease. Can't form complete thoughts, so enjoy this email I got from a friend. She's getting married next month - in another country. Needless to say, she's handling her nervous breakdown much better than I would have:

Hi everyone,

Would each of you mind sending me your contact number(s)? My cell phone was "damaged" on Sunday, costing me all previously stored information. More specifically, and for humor's sake, I accidentally flushed it down the toilet at Dick's Sporting Goods. Yes, it took the entire phone!

Ah, life.

Updated - I just realized that the subject line of the email was "Goodbye, Moto." Ha!