OCD, Much?

Last Thursday night, after a thirteen hour workday, PC and I stopped at a local chain restaurant (which we haven't been to in years) to grab a quick bite to eat.  When we walked in the door, the first things we noticed were (A) the INSANELY loud music, (B) someone singing in a voice that would make Simon Cowell want to stab himself in the neck, and (C) a crapload of drunk people.

Yippee, folks!  We'd stumbled upon Karaoke Night with the Walmartians! 

We thought about leaving.  But, because it was so late, we decided that we would just suffer through the music, inhale our food, and get the hell out of there asap.  Quickly, we made our way to a table, ordered our food, and commenced our auditory TORTURE.

Dudes?  Have you ever wondered, IF when people are singing, they realize that they completely SUCK at it?

Well, wonder no more, people.  Because they don't.

Apparently, these karaoke singers thought that having a microphone in their hand made them all that and a bag of friggin chips.  Seriously.

We saw sweaty men--singing, bumping, grinding and walking all around the room--flirting with female barflies, a la Elvis Presley.

We saw teenage boys running around, screeching and jumping, and acting all grungy and shit, a la Kurt Cobain.  

We even suffered through an older woman's (in her 60's) version of Madonna's, Like a Virgin---which cracked me right the hell up because when she started singing, PC was all, "Give me a break!  It's been decades since that woman was a virgin!"  Hahaha!

And SHE was the catalyst for THIS conversation....

Me:  You should get up and sing a song!  That would be soooo funny!

PC:  NO WAY.

Me:  What if I gave you a hundred bucks?!  Would you do it then?

PC:  NOPE.

Me:  You wouldn't sing a karaoke song for a quick hundred bucks?!

PC:  NOPE.

Me:  Why not? These people don't even know you!  You'll never see them again!

PC:  It's not about these people.  I could give a crap about these people.

Me:  Then, why not?

PC:  Why not?!  WHYYYY NOTTTTT?!!!  I'll tell you WHY NOT!  BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE'S ASSES ARE CLEANER THAN THAT MICROPHONE!!!!!!!

Me:  Well, alrighty then....

No More "Sopranos" For You

Yesterday, Hubby and I stopped at a furniture store to look for a storage cabinet.  While I was taking my sweet time--strolling around every room of furniture--analyzing every knickknack and accessory, PC wandered ahead of me into the bedroom section.  Suddenly, from about twenty feet away, I heard him say, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"

When I turned the corner and finally caught up with him, I saw this:

........which, incidentally, is SUPPOSED to look like THIS (minus the crazy man sitting in it):

At this point I was all....

Me:  Dude, you're making an ass of yourself.  Get out of there before the security dudes put you on YouTube. 

PC:  What kind of a sick bastard would put a tiny coffin in their bedroom? 

Me:  That's not a coffin.  It's kinda like a hope chest.  Traditionally, some guys offer these to the women they intend to marry so the women can fill them up with linens and crap.  It's kind of like a pre-bridal shower, except you buy your own shit and save it for when you get married. 

PC:  I don't get it.

Me:  When a man gives a woman a hope chest, he is in fact saying to her, I love you and would like to marry you SOMEDAY, but I am NOT ready for a commitment RIGHT NOW.

PC:  That's not what he's saying.

Me:  Enlighten me.

PC:  If a man gives you one of THOSE, he's either saying, "I hope you drop dead, you stone cold be-otch!" OR, "If you get out of line, I'll cut you up into little pieces and bury you in the backyard!"

Me:  *slowly backing away*  Uhhh...okay.  Let's just agree that this matter should be left open to interpretation.

(AND THEN I WENT HOME....TO HIDE ALL OF MY SHARP CUTLERY)

Stick With Me, Kid.....And I'll Teach You Things

Last Sunday, PC and I went out for lunch.  While we were eating, we saw a really nice car drive through the restaurant's parking lot.  Its license plate read:  EBAY 1.

THAT was the catalyst for the following conversation: 

Me:  Hey, check it out!  That guy's license plate says EBAY 1!

PC:  I've seen that car before!  That guy probably makes a living selling stuff on ebay.  He probably sits at his computer all day...in his pajamas...drinking coffee...totally unaware of the everyday rat race that normal people have to deal with.

Me:  Lucky bastard...

***FAST FORWARD ONE HOUR LATER***

Me:  Why are we circling the parking lot?

PC:  I'm looking for the ebay car.

Me:  Why?

PC:  I want to see if the car will give us any clues as to what the guy sells.

Me:  That's dumb. If that dude's making a crapload of money selling stuff online, do you really think he's going to give his "secrets" away, so ANY schmo can steal his ideas and cut into his business?  I mean...Do you honestly think that he's going to be ridiculous enough to have a bumper sticker on his car that says, "I SELL DILDOS ON EBAY?"

PC:  *shaking his head*  Really??? 

Me:  What?

PC:  REALLY???

Me:  WHAT?!

PC:  Of all the things that he could sell online, the first thing that popped into your head was dildos? 

Me:  Well, by the looks of his fancy, schmancy car (A BRAND NEW JAGUAR, PEOPLE!), I'll deduce that he must sell a SHITLOAD of stuff.  And because SEX SELLS and people are PERVS, my educated hypothesis is that he's probably the Ebay Entrepreneur of Dildos. 

*PAUSE*

PC:   I WILL NEVER, EVER understand you.

Me:  And I will NEVER, EVER understand why you'll NEVER understand me.  I'm really very reasonable. 

PC:  *sigh*

"Oooh Baby I Love Your Way." Meh...Not Really.

If you read my last post, you know that my husband spent Valentine's Day morning ducking flying objects.  (Oops!  It just slipped from my hand, Officer!)

To make that up to him, I had a really great Valentine's Day planned.  After work, I took him to one of his favorite Thai restaurants for dinner.  Then, I surprised him by taking him to see Peter Frampton in concert. 

Now, let me be clear about something.  I know that you're probably all thinking, "Big whoop, Sally.  You got to go out to dinner and watch the concert, too!  Why is that a gift for HIM?" 

I'll tell you why, you cynics. 

Peter Frampton is old.  When his most famous album was popular, my husband was a teenager...AND I WAS SEVEN. 

So you see, sitting through OVER THREE HOURS of Peter Frampton--singing songs that I didn't know--(Oh, alright...I knew exactly three) was a tad bit torturous for me.  But, I did it for love. 

And I did it with grace (I spent the night on Facebook), style (I looked cuter than the toothless guy to our right), and class (I didn't reek of mary-ju-wanna, like the dudes to my left). 

At one point during the concert, I will confess that, according to my husband, I may have lost my shit. 

Here's what happened....

After two-and-a-half hours, I thought the show had finally ended---mainly because the band said GOOD NIGHT, took their bows, put their instruments down, and walked off the stage. But, then, my husband was all, "Stay in your seat!  They're not putting the theater lights on!  THAT MEANS IT'S ENCORE TIME!  WHOO HOO!" 

Then, the dudes came back out and played some more.

After two hours and fifty minutes, I thought the show was FINALLY over AGAIN.  You know...because the band said GOOD NIGHT, took their bows, put their instruments down, and walked off the stage.  But, then, my husband said, "Stay in your seat!  They're not putting the theater lights on!  THAT MEANS, PETER'S DOING ANOTHER ENCORE!  WHOO HOO!"

Then, the band came back out and played some more.

After THREE HOURS AND TEN MINUTES,  I thought the show was FINALLY over.  YOU KNOW....because the flippin band said GOOD NIGHT, took their gah-damn bows, put their friggin instruments down, and walked off the effin stage.

BUT THEN, my husband said, "OH MY GOD, SAL!  THIS IS SO AWESOME!  They're not putting the theater lights on!!!  That means ANOTHER ENCORE!!!!  Can you believe how amazing this is?!!!  We're soooo lucky!"

Lucky, my ass.  I had had enough.

I was tired.  I had to get up early the next day.  It was almost midnight.  And I needed to use to the toilet.

And that's when I allegedly flipped out (The urine I was holding in, for fear of getting crabs from a public restroom, backed up into my guts--causing me to blackout) and yelled, "OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ENOUGH ALREADY!   GET YOUR ASS ON THE F*CKING BUS, PETER FRAMPTON!" 

Yeah....

That night? 

My husband said we were lucky. 

In retrospect, I guess I have to agree.

He was lucky that Peter Frampton put on a show that enthralled him.

And I? 

I was lucky that the hippies around me were too loaded to kick my ass.

Win.Win.

All You Need Is Love...And Really Good Aim

Happy Valentine's Day, Peeps!

Today, I would like to profess my love for my husband. 

Me & PC

Here goes...

Dear PC,

You da man!  Also?  I'm sorry that I chucked a two pound weight at your head this morning.....even if you were asking for it.

XOXO,
Sally

NOTE TO THE LIFE INSURANCE PEOPLE:  NO PARTIES WERE INJURED DURING THE FILMING OF THIS VIDEO. 

And That's What Happens When You Let "Just Anybody" Have A Facebook Account

Normally, I'm not a crazed sports fan. 

However, when one of my home teams is in a championship game, I like to get in on all of the drama.  Being from Rhode Island, I was hoping that the New England Patriots would pull off a Super Bowl win.  Alas?  It just wasn't in the cards because basically, the New York Giants just played a better game.  Whoopty-fugging-do for them (my lame attempt at being a good sport)!

In related news, Gisele Bundchen, who is Tom Brady's wife, has come under fire for making a comment that kinda sorta blames some of the other New England Patriots team players for the loss on Sunday.  I'm not sure of her exact words, but after the game, as she was being heckled, she commented something like, "My husband played well and threw the ball well.  He can't throw the ball AND be there to catch it, too."  OH SUH-NAP, GISELE!

Since Sunday, there have been many posts on Facebook ripping Gisele a new one for being a sore loser. 

I'm not a fan of hers, but I did stick up for her on one post because, you know what?  At the end of the day, she was just a wife, sticking up for her husband. And as a married woman, I can totally relate to that.

Without further ado, here's me...sticking up for Gisele Bundchen (or as my nephew--Brian, calls her, Jinxele Bundchen) on Facebook yesterday.....sort of.....

Sally Araujo Costa:  Even though I don't think she's anything great, I would have reacted way worse than she did. They'd be all, "Hey Gisele, What happened out there? Your husband choked." And I'd be all, "Shut the f*ck up! Tom's teammates couldn't catch the damn ball! AND Eli Manning may have a ring, but he looks like a damn Muppet! Now excuse me while I go and console my HOT husband with sexual favors, YOU DOUCHEBAGS!"

And this is why women without mouth filters should never be allowed to marry public figures.

How You Feeling? Not So Hot!

This was me, yesterday...

I thought I was having a pretty good hair day (Correct me if I'm wrong, and I will stab you in the neck), so I took this picture--to use as a possible Facebook profile photo-- right before heading out the door for a day of obligatory family bonding.

About an hour after this photo was taken, a family member, who shall remain nameless because she may or may not have given birth to me (I'm still convinced that Sally Field is my real mother)---presented me with a jar of this...

...saying nothing more than, "Here!  Use this.  This company also makes a night creme.  When I go to the store with your sister, I'm going to buy you one of those, too." 

When I got home, I decided to look at my wall calendar---the one where I write down all of my important appointments---to check and see when my mother's last eye exam was. 

It was three years ago. 

THAT fact provided me with the tidbit of consolation that I needed to AVOID eating a pint of ice cream and a bag of potato chips in commiseration of my apparent hagginess.

The poor woman must have some huge-ass cataracts, y'all. 

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.