Friday, January 30, 2009

Are You Wearing A Helmet? Or, Are You Just Thick Headed?

Here is proof that women are from Mars and men are from Venus (actually, sometimes I think they're from......WAIT FOR IT..........Uranus).

Yesterday, I went with the hubby to a doctor's appointment. The appointment was with a very "hot commodity" (waited four months to see the sucker) neurologist. For all intents and purposes, I will refer to him herein as Dr. McBaldy (DEFINITELY not McDreamy).

When we got to Dr. McBaldy's office, we were immediately escorted into the exam room. I was happy about this because I had forgotten my reading material in the car and medical office magazines are scary to me. Why? HELLO, PEOPLE!? Do you realize that people with drippy noses and leaky orifices have been handling those out-of-date periodicals? NASTY.
Anyway, I may have a touch of OCD but, whatever....

OK...So, now, we go into Dr. McBaldy's office where he proceeded to thoroughly examine the hubby. Then he asked, "So, Paul, how long have you had this pain in your leg?" The hubby took a few seconds to ponder the question. So, the doctor rephrased, "Can you recall when the pain started?" "Yes," said hubby. "It started about a year and a half ago. I didn't come in sooner because I thought it would go away."

Dr. McBaldy ( a little ticked off) then said, "What the hell is it with men?! You know.....I had a neighbor who had a pain in his chest. He didn't seek medical attention because he thought it would go away. The next day his wife found him DEAD in the recliner." Then he said, "It's a man thing! Women don't do that! I don't know what it is with men! They have thick skulls or something!"

For the record, I would NEVER say that men have thick skulls....But, WHO AM I to argue with a doctor?

I like Dr. McBaldy's style. I think from now on I'll refer to him as "Dr. Smart Like Me".

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

That's What Friends Are For

Last night, the hubby and I went out for dinner with our friends, Lou and Linda. We always have such a great time with them. Let me tell you why.

We first met Lou and Linda a little over two years ago when we bought the business that we currently own. Lou was a customer of the business before we even owned it and he was one of the first people that we met when we started there. From the first day we met him, he was so great to us. At the time, we were a little stressed (OK...a lot stressed) because we were learning how to run a new business, trying to upgrade equipment, organize our environment, make our customers comfortable with the transition, etc...Lou was (and is) such a great resource for us, answering questions, providing us with information, and letting us utilize his business when we needed to use equipment that we didn't own, but that would make our jobs easier.

A few months after meeting Lou and doing work for him, he invited us to have dinner with him and his wife. Of course, he was such a nice guy, we said yes. So, one night, we decided to meet at his house before dinner. This is when we met his wife Linda for the first time. you know how I can be a little cynical sometimes (yeah...I said a LITTLE)? Well, let me tell you what happened. We walk into their home and immediately we were greeted with hugs by the nicest woman you will ever meet. She was so sweet and welcoming. I'm telling you, the hubby and I were secretly exchanging glances and thinking, "Are these people for real? My God! They are so nice! OK...Where's the hidden camera?"

Now, let me just say that I know there are a lot of nice people in this world. But, having dealt with a lot of not so nice people or as I like to call them, "people who suck the life out of you", I have learned that my free time is valuable and I need to spend that time with people who lift me up and make me appreciate life more. My friend Linda says, "You have a choice. You can be bitter or you can be better." Knowing her and Lou has definitely made us better (Note: Linda is writing a great inspirational book. I will post more info on that when it becomes available).

So, here are some pictures of us at dinner last night. This is Linda, Lou, and me (on the right). Is it me or does Lou look like a Rico Suave?

Here's me and Paul (usually referred to as "the hubby"):

Oh, and since I'm showing you pictures of my friends, let me just say that another reason I think Lou is so great is that he helps me with my quest for healthy eating. Here we are on a previous outing experimenting with the "Big Fat Peanut Butter Cup Diet." FYI, I recommend it highly:

And finally, for shits and giggles, here's one last story about Lou and Linda. They are not only kind, generous, sincere, and all around great people. They are also funny as hell.

One day last year, when the hubby and I were on vacation in Vegas, Lou called the hubby's cell phone to find out what we were doing and if we were having fun. So, when Lou and Linda went on vacation to Aruba and WE WERE WORKING, I decided to reciprocate. So, I called them.

We were freezing our butts off in Rhode Island and they were strolling the beach in Aruba. NICE. So, to goof around, I casually told Lou that I hoped he was wearing a tasteful bathing suit on the beach and not scaring anyone with one of those disgustingly tacky Speedos (aka...banana hammock) which are gross on any man. This was the picture that Lou and Linda sent me in response:

FYI...He's not wearing a diaper. It's his bathing suit worn inside out.

*NOTE: Upon receiving a "Cease and Desist" letter from Lou's lawyer, the
online publication of this photo may be temporary. Copy and
paste it quickly!!!

I hope today's blog entry will inspire you all to call or e-mail your good friends and tell them how much you appreciate having them in your lives. Have a great day everybody!!!!

Monday, January 26, 2009

Just Call Me Sally Kennedy Onassis

It's Monday and I am thrilled to be back to work...just kidding.

So, here is a rundown of the highlights of my weekend:

On Saturday, I took my Mother, Alda, out for lunch. Remember how a couple of weeks ago she insinuated that my hair was too long (and therefore looked like crap)? Well, I had my hair cut (3 inches off) and colored last Thursday. So, when I picked her up at 12:00 SHARP, I was all freshly coiffed. Plus, I was also wearing high heels, makeup, and dressy clothes because everyday with Mama is a fashion show and I didn't want to get kicked off the fashion runway by an old lady. God help me if she knew that I ever referred to her as an old lady.

So, as the old lady gets into the car (I swear both of her ass cheeks were not even on the seat yet), she looks at me and says, "You cut your hair. It looks better. You have a style now."

Thank you very much. For weeks, I have been walking around without a style and NONE of you told me? Nice. It's a good thing that I have Alda to keep my appearance in check.

Memorable moment number two also happened to me on Saturday but thankfully (and unusually), this scenario did not involve my Mother.

After ditching the old lady (whoo hoo), hubby and I had dinner and then ventured to the liquor store to buy a nice bottle of wine for our friend, Lou (having dinner with him and his lovely wife tomorrow after work). We walked all over the liquor store examining our options and finally settled on a lovely Cabernet from California. As we made our way to the register, I noticed a sign on the counter that said:

Have your license ready.
Anyone who looks under the
age of 40 will be carded.

So, now I'm thinking, "I am 39 and 6 months. I must look exceptionally good today because the old lady said I have a style. Surely, I will be carded." Yeah, right. Get back to reality, Sally Kennedy Onassis....NOT happening.

Now, the cashier rings up the bottle of wine, hubby pays her, and you know what comes next, right? Yep, I just had to....I said, "Um, what's with this sign? Do I look like I'm over 40 to you?" Just as I was seriously thinking about beating her ass with a Slim Jim, or a bag of beef jerky, or a salty stuffed pepper (my God, they have wretched food at liquor stores, don't they?), she said, "Oh, I don't really follow that rule. I only card people if they look under 30." Nice save, cashier girl.

Little did she know that she just saved herself from getting a Slim Jim smackdown.

Friday, January 23, 2009


This is going to be a quick blog entry (well, not that quick) because I am at work....and I am in my office at work....and my husband (who I work with) actually thinks I am doing work. Shh...

Anyway, I just wanted to tell all of my friends out there in cyberspace, assuming that I have friends and that I am not actually talking to myself, that you can now access my blog through my new web address which is:

I set this up because every time I tell someone the name of my blog they look at me like I have two heads and say, "Huh?"
I hear you...and I get it, people.

Mais fica is a term that you don't have to be Portuguese to "get". Let me reiterate that. It's a term that hungry people understand because let's face it, we are all big time foodies. To best help you understand my point, here's how we typically apply the term "mais fica" in a common situation:

Imagine that you are at a restaurant with a friend and you are about to ingest something really, really good like a big fat piece of Godiva chocolate cheesecake (and it's not like I'm speaking from experience here Dr. Cardiologist Lady who likes to rain on my parade and force me to eat lettuce). Anyway, your friend is sitting across from you and practically drooling all over herself. You don't want to look like a ravenous beast, so you thoughtfully ask, "Do you want to try some?"

If the cosmic forces are on your side, she politely declines your offer and you think to yourself, "Whoo hoo! More for me!"

That is a typical "mais fica" scenario in a nutshell. Now come on. No judging. Don't be rolling your eyes at my cheesecake greediness. For you, it may be french fries, buffalo wings, or crab rangoons, but get real my fellow know exactly what I'm talking about here.

So, that's my story for today. I hope you all have a great weekend! And, stay away from my cheesecake!

PS This wonderful, insightful blog can now be found at these two websites:

Use whichever one best floats your boat...

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

The Burbs

The hubby and I, bought our house 12 years ago. Like everything else in my life, it came with a story.

We had been married for five years when we got the itch to buy a house. Like all young couples, we wanted to have a slice of the American dream. My husband was really into the search and very particular about what he was looking for. I, on the other hand, had only one stipulation. I needed to buy a house that had a good street address. My new address labels HAD to look awesome on my Christmas cards. That was not going to happen if I bought a house on Testicle Trail, Booger Boulevard, or Fecal Fairway.

I guess you could say that I have Address OCD. Every time someone tells me that they bought a house, I say, "Congratulations. What's the name of your street?"

I have always had a sort of compulsion about addresses. When I was a kid, I dreamt about living at 1313 Mockingbird Lane (yes, with the Munsters). Now (even though my address is killer), as an adult, I fantasize about what it would be like to live on Wisteria Lane (no, I am not a desperate housewife).

So, you're probably wondering.....What street did I settle on??

No Sodom Road for me, my friends. I live on.....drum roll please........I can't tell you that! What da ya think, I'm crazy? But, FYI...It is very peaceful here.....except for the dingbats who live across the street (I think she's really a man and he may be in the closet, but whatever). I'll tell you more about them another time.

I need to get to bed. I haven't won the lottery, yet. So tomorrow, it's off to work for me (oh, crap).
Have a good night everybody!!

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Just Call Me Blanche Deveraux

Yesterday, I wanted to blog about something that was said to me that same morning. But, I was so ticked off in the moment that I decided I should wait a bit and cool off or else my entire blog entry might be laden with "F" bombs (so not like me).

Here's the scenario:

I was on the phone yesterday with a person who said to me, "You (meaning me and the hubby) help so many people. I worry so much about who will be there to take care of you someday." Now, this is not the first time that this person (Fyi...not my Mother) has said this to me and I kind of went off. My reasoning? Well, can there be a more negative statement (plus I didn't like her tone)? Hey, lady!!! Worry about yourself or get a hobby to occupy your time! I am only 39 freakin years old. I live my life for today and am not quite ready for the glue factory just yet. I mean...really!

Plus, I don't appreciate the implication that because I don't have children, I will be screwed when I get old. There are no guarantees in life, my friends. Some people have children who grow up to be wonderful, caring, responsible adults who make their parents proud everyday of their lives. Other people have children who grow up to be selfish bastards or derelicts. Then there are those poor parents who sadly, outlive their children. And still, there are others who have a whole slew of children, only to end up in a nursing home anyway.

Now, I don't want anyone to get the impression that I am anti-children. That is not the case at all. I love kids. I grew up with my nieces and nephews and I love them very much. I'm just trying to say that I respect the decisions that people make in their lives to have children or not to have children and I expect the same respect in return.

So, to all of my friends and family, whatever you decide to do with your lives, I promise you will get no negative bullshit from me. If you want to have twelve kids, then God bless you (but please don't ask me to babysit)! If you want to run away and live in a nudist colony, knock yourself out(just don't forget to put sunscreen on your delicate areas)! And, if you want to become a lesbian pagan priestess, more power to you (thank you Marc)!

Now, I'd better go and make some phone calls. Apparently, I'm going to have to line someone up to take me for my first colonoscopy appointment in 2020. Any volunteers?

Monday, January 19, 2009

Does This Snow Make My Butt Look Big?

It's official. I am turning into Jack Nicholson in The Shining. This frigid weather and constant snow falling is making me nuts.

Yesterday, I did not leave the house because of the crazy winter weather. But, I had to entertain myself. So, what did I do? I made beef enchiladas and red velvet cupcakes from scratch (see above).

Don't tell my doctor. He wants me to loose weight. So, perhaps the 2 1/2 sticks of real butter and the block of full fat cream cheese that I plopped into those yummy cupcakes might convince him that I'm not trying hard enough. Hmmmm.....Maybe I can convince him that I have a thyroid problem.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

To Hell And Back

All of this frigid weather has got me thinking about my favorite place in the whole world, Seven Mile Beach in Grand Cayman. Paul (the hubby) and I try to go there every year to bask in the sun and swim in the crystal blue waters. Man, what I wouldn't give to be there right now.

I have a funny story about the last time we were there.

One beautiful sunny day (about 3 days into my vacation), I was lying by the pool at my resort reading through the local Grand Cayman magazine. I was trying to decide on a few new tropical adventures to partake in when to my amazement, I discovered that there was a town on the island called Hell. Hmmm...I had a light bulb moment.

The very next day, hubby and I rented a car to explore the island. The first stop on the agenda HAD to be Hell. Why, you ask? Because we have a friend who is a Catholic priest.....and I thought.....Wouldn't it be hilarious if I sent him a postcard with a postmark from Hell?

So, we got into our rental car and drove all over freakin creation looking for Hell. It was literally hell finding Hell. I guess Satan doesn't believe in street signs. Finally, we find the post office where I pick out the perfect postcard for my friend, the priest. On it, I wrote this message:

Dear Father P.,
Having a great time! And, guess what? They've been lying to you! Hell is great! The weather is perfect here everyday! There are beautiful sandy beaches and lots of frozen tropical drinks! And do you know what else? They let you eat rum cake for breakfast! Whoo hoo!!
Wish you were here!

PS. Now you can tell your parishioners that you know people who've been to Hell and back!

We came home a week later. When we ran into him next, I asked him if he got my postcard. He said he did. Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Apparently, he doesn't think I'm funny.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

You Ain't Half Bad Lookin?

It's official. I am approaching middle age. Besides the fact that I am almost halfway to the age of eighty, why is this so upsetting to me? Let me tell you why. Today at the post office, I was hit on by a man who looked like a hobbit.

It used to be when I was in my 20's that cute guys would smile at me, hold the door open for me, and make interesting conversation with me in social situations. Now, everywhere I turn (like at the damn post office) I'm getting shit-eating grins and a once over from the likes of Uncle Jed Clampett. Yuck.

OK. Now, I'm going to get on my soapbox here and do a little preaching to the men out there. But first, let me start by saying that I am happily married and therefore not even remotely interested in being hit on by anyone. However, if I were on the make, here are some prerequisites that I would require all men of interest to follow.....and I am respectfully speaking for all women here, guys.


1. You should only hit on women if you have TEETH (you hear me post office troll?). No woman, no matter hold she is, wants to watch you GUM your damn food. And FYI...
if you don't have them, you can buy them. Duh.

2. You are not fooling anyone by combing your hair from left to right. I went to college. I know that hair doesn't naturally grow that way. If you are going bald, accept it. Shave your damn head. No woman wants to flirt with Cousin It.

3. If you are driving a 1978 Chevy Citation, you do not need to wear fingerless driving gloves. A rusty ass Chevy Citation is not a "performance machine." You may only wear racing gloves if you are Jeff Gordon and drive for Nascar. Other than that, you look like a jackass.

4. Never say, "You ain't half bad lookin" to any self respecting woman unless you want to get punched in the face. I'm still trying to figure out what "half" he was talking about.

5. There is no substitute for soap and water. I know we are in a recession here. But come on. If I have to hold my breath near you because you smell like a three day old pepperoni pizza, THAT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.

Alright, I'm done venting. I feel better. Now, please feel free to pass on my "How To Make A Good Impression On The Ladies" tips to all of your male friends. I'm confident that together, we can rid the world of "comb overs" e-mail at a time.

Friday, January 9, 2009

There She Blows

I went to the eye doctor. I need new glasses. Just another sign that I am rapidly exiting out of my 30's.

I don't like going to the eye doctor. It's not that I dislike him personally, it's the whole experience in general. You go through all of that eye poking, eye dropping, dilation crap only to find out that this year your eyeballs are more like Mr. Magoo's than they were last year.

Do you want to know the part of the eye exam that is the most torturous for me?

I HATE it when they stick your head into that contraption (you know the one) and they blow those damn puffs of air into your eyeballs. Ooooh, I hate that. I can't do it. It literally takes them three or four tries in each eye before they can measure whatever the hell they are trying to measure...and the whole time, I giggle....I giggle nervously as they impatiently try to hold my eyes open and my head in place. Then, when it's finally over, I tell them, " Blame my sister. She traumatized me as a kid." Let me explain.

My sister, Natty, is ten years older than me. When I was four-ish and she was fourteen-ish, her main chore was being responsible for me. My mother, being a single parent, had a lot on her plate, so she delegated Natty as my sort of nanny.

To me, Natty was just my big sister. I want to be like her, hang out with her, and follow her around. Natty wasn't overly excited to have me around all of the time and she made that very clear (thanks for all of those pinches, Natty). She wanted to ditch me so she could hang around with her best friend, Vivian, who lived next door. That's where my all of my eyeball trauma comes in.

Before Natty was allowed by my mother to go to Vivian's house, she had to tuck me into bed and make sure I was asleep (I went to bed early). She would have me climb into bed, cover me with the blankets, and menacingly say, "NOW GO TO SLEEP!" And she meant it. I had better be snoring in 10 seconds or less if I knew what was good for me.

Picture it....there I am....a four year old lying in bed, not tired in the least, pretending to be asleep to escape the wrath of my beastly sister. And do you want to guess what she did to me if I dared open my eyes for just a freakin second? Yep. You guessed it. She blew into my eyes....and I don't mean dainty little puffs of air either....I'm talking hurricane force winds! OK, OK, so I'm exaggerating a little.....But, let's just say that I am lucky that my tear ducts still function (thank you, big sister).

Well, that's my "very true" story for today. I hope you all have a nice weekend!

Oh, and feel free to share your "evil" sibling stories with me (not you, Natty) by leaving me a comment or sending me an e-mail. Trust me....It feels good to "bust" your family in cyberspace!

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

"Butt" Do You Believe In Karma?

I believe in karma. I believe if you are good, good will come to you and if you are bad, know the drill. I have proof. Here's the story:

One morning, I was rushing around trying to make it to my 9:00am hair appointment. Now, I am NOT a morning person, but because of my work schedule, the salon's first appointment of the day was all I could fit into my busy week. So, I get ready, skip breakfast, drive like a maniac, and finally make it to the hair salon by 9:02am. Not to be redundant here, but again, I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON.

As I made my way down the walkway to the hair salon's front door, it suddenly swings open and my hairdresser, Queenie (name changed to protect the not so innocent), perched at her desk, says in a very cocky tone (or what my morning self interpreted to be cocky), "YOU'RE LATE!"

Now, I honestly have to say that I don't know what came over me. I mean it. I remember thinking that it was only 9:02am and I didn't have my breakfast and I hate mornings and BAM!
The next thing I knew, I threw my pocketbook and my magazine on the ground, turned around with my back to Queenie, and I MOONED her. Then, I gathered myself together (tucked in the junk in the trunk), picked up my stuff, and marched into the salon, plopping myself down at the hair-washing sink like nothing had happened. Take that Queenie.

Anyhow, this is where karma comes in. Literally, six days after the mad mooning incident (and I do think I was temporarily insane), I was at home in my bedroom getting a pair of socks for my husband who was in a rush to get out the door to go and get his hair cut (I swear this is friggin true). I run down the stairs to bring them to him, slip, and tumble halfway down the steps (about 7) landing on my ass. I was a stunned at first and then was relieved to find that despite such a nasty fall, all of my bones appeared to be in tact. I was just a little roughed up and was sure that I would probably have a couple of bumps and bruises the next day.

As that day progressed, I started feeling really sore and achy. Coincidentally, the body part that hurt me the most was my butt. When I couldn't take it any more, I looked in the full length mirror and low and behold, MY ENTIRE ASS WAS BLACK AND BLUE! and I mean both cheeks! It wasn't pretty and man did it hurt to sit down...for at least a week!

MORAL OF THE STORY: If you act fresh, sooner than later, karma will kick you in the ass........

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Here She Comes......Miss America

I want to tell you a little bit about my Mother. This will give you all a better perspective of my life and why I think the way I do.

She is not in her 60's and she is not in her 80's. She is somewhere in between. I can't tell you exactly. I'm too scared ;) However, I am the youngest of eight and she had me when she was 39. I am 39. Do the math.

She wears high heels and make-up, even to go to the corner store.

She believes you should ALWAYS look your matter what. And if you're not looking so hot on a particular day, she will tell you "in code".
EXAMPLE: On Friday, during lunch, she kept staring at my hair. She said, "Your hair is long. It hasn't been that long in a while. When are you going to the hairdresser?" TRANSLATION: You're hair looks like crap. You need a haircut.

She speaks Portuguese 99% of the time and very good "broken" English when she has to get her point across.
EXAMPLE: Frustrated at the doctor's office because he questioned her about gaining four pounds, she responded, "I don't know why you care about my four pounds when the girls that work in this office are tooooo fat."

She pretends that she can't read English. Yet, when it suits her, she mysteriously can.
EXAMPLE: To prove this theory, I once wrote: "My Mother is a giant pain in my ass." on a pad of paper that was on her kitchen counter. Then I walked away. Three seconds later, she whacked me in the arm with said pad of paper ( problem reading that).

She is the head of my family. She is funny. You will be hearing a lot about her.
Not for any particular reason or anything but, does anyone know if Shady Pines Nursing Home really exists?

Monday, January 5, 2009

Poor Oprah

I have something very disheartening to tell you all. Sit down, you're going to be shocked.

I went to the doctor and she told me....that I need to lose weight. I wanted to say, "No shit, Sherlock. Tell me something I don't already know." But, I didn't. I maintained my composure, smiled and said, "I'll try."

This weight thing is such a universal pain in the ass....virtually every body's ass....By the way, if you don't need to lose any weight, shut the computer off. You are not worthy to read my blog (just kidding).

I just don't understand how I am expected to eat "right", exercise regularly, and be the stick figure that my doctor wants me to be when OPRAH WINFREY can't even do it with all of the help that money can buy.

I'm not picking on Oprah, here. I get it. I understand exactly where she is coming from.

Picture it:
It is 12:00am. The dogs are asleep at the foot of Oprah's bed. Stedman is snoring his head off. Consuela, the housekeeper, has gone home for the night. Oprah is reading by lamp light when she suddenly feels the urge for a snack. She quietly heads downstairs for a peek in the fridge and remembers that she supposedly has a THYROID problem. She probably thinks to herself, "Well, since I have a thyroid problem, I'm going to keep gaining weight no matter what I eat. Screw the carrot sticks! Where the hell are the Devil Dogs?"

Hmmm....Does anyone else think it's a funny coincidence that Devil Dogs are named after Satan?

Friday, January 2, 2009

Viva Las Enchiladas

OK.  So something everyone should know about me is that I usually have a really difficult time adapting to change.  Now don't get me wrong.  If I suddenly lost 40 pounds, I would have no problem getting used to my smaller butt.  That kind of change would make me want to run around naked doing the macarena but, I digress.  I'm talking about the kind of change, for whatever reason, that makes you feel like you've lost a very important part of your life.  I can't stand it.  But, that is the way that the chocolate chip espresso cookie crumbles and I, like all of you, have no other choice but to adapt to new situations....which brings me to my story...

I recently met with two friends (who for all intents and purposes will be herein referred to as Lucy and Ethel) that I haven't seen in a very long time.  We used to be much closer when we worked and lived near each other but my husband and I moved to the country, bought a new business, and you know the drill.  So, we decided to meet for dinner and to catch up on old times.  My Spanish is a little rusty here but lets just say that this idea was a mucho grande mistake (you'll get the Mexican references later).  

OK, so we all finally meet at the restaurant and exchange hugs and small talk and very quickly the whole episode fell to crap.  Real crap.   Apparently, Lucy and Ethel decided to meet earlier than I could so that they may indulge in a few cocktails before dinner.  Lucy was LIT by the time I got there and Ethel, who was nursing her first drink, was annoyed.  I ignore this situation, put on my "I'm so happy to be here" face and order my food and my Diet Coke with lemon.  Before I know it, Ethel is asking Lucy all about her beliefs because apparently, Lucy has found herself a new "religion".  Drunk Lucy is mad...feels like WE are picking on her even though I have not said a word and starts trying to convert us...telling us all about her new "pasture" and what he preaches.  All I said, and I am not kidding here was, "Do you mean your pastor?"  And she all but went into convulsions.  She looked at me and said, "YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SMART!  JUST BECAUSE YOU GRADUATED CINCO DE MAYO!"  I was stunned and puzzled.  What the heck was she talking about?  Then, I got it.  We once had a conversation about my graduating from college (way back in 1993) with a 3.9 GPA.  Yep, I graduated Summa Cum Laude.  

So, now drunk Lucy is seething, Ethel and I are laughing so hard we are crying and just when I thought it couldn't get any did.  Lucy lifts her shirt, flashes everyone at Applebee's and storms out.  Real nice, Lucy.  Your mother would be proud.  Now, here is what I learned about adapting to change from this experience:

1.  Friendships  sometimes dissolve when two people grow apart...and that's OK. 

2.  Never discuss religion or politics with someone you want to remain friends with, especially
     if they are drunk.

3.  From now on, in honor of my 1993 college graduation,  I will celebrate Cinco de Mayo with
     gusto (a good change...yippee)!  

4.  It doesn't matter how old I am.  My mother would smack me if I EVER flashed my boobs to 
     anyone, anywhere (this will never change). 

So, that's it for today, my friends. I hope you all have a nice weekend!!!!!  Viva las nachos bell grandes (too much Taco Bell in my life).  Ole!!


Thursday, January 1, 2009

What comes around...

Well, today is the first day of 2009 and my first day as a blogger. I'm putting it all out there, my friends. I figure it's cheaper that seeing a therapist.

Anyway, I'm not big on resolutions. I just can't handle the pressure. But, I will say that my blog site, Mais Fica, pretty much sums up my wants and needs for my life. For those who are unfamiliar with the term "mais fica", it is a Portuguese phrase that basically translates as "more for me".

Now, I don't want everyone to think that I'm a greedy little trollop who is all about "stuff". Not the case at all, people. What I really want "more for me" of is the following:

I want to say NO more and feel guilty less.
I want less of other people's drama and turmoil dumped in my lap.
I want people to call me because they want to say hi or get together "just because", not because they need me to solve a problem, do them a favor, or lend them some money.
I'd like to read more.
I'd like to exercise regularly and be healthy.
And finally, I'd like to be able to eat more and weigh less...and I mean eating the good stuff (no tofu for me , dudes) chocolate, buffalo chicken wings, and cheese in any form. Whoo hoo!! OK, I know this is ridiculous, but hey, it's my list so, deal.

Thanks for reading my first blog entry! Stay tuned....It's gonna get good! Happy New Year! I wish you all the best in 2009!!