Monday, April 27, 2009

The British Are Coming, The British Are Coming...And They're Wearing Their Tighty Whities

The difference between a young woman and an old woman:

The old woman (that would be my 78 year old Mother), wandering around the department store, runs into this lifesize poster of David Beckham:

Her reaction: "Oh my God! That is awful! What a shame! Disgusting! This world's going to hell!"

The young woman (that would be me...and yeah, I said YOUNG), wandering around the same department store (yep, following the old lady), runs into the same lifesize poster of David Beckham. Her reaction:

Well, H-E-L-L-O there!! Wow! Whoo hoo! God bless America and all of its British imports! Hail to the Queen!!!

Never assume that I am as refined as I pretend to be.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings.....NOT

I have a friend, J, from high school, who is a manager at a hoity toity restaurant in Providence.

My husband wanted to go to said restaurant for dinner to celebrate his birthday, so I called to make a reservation.

When I was on the phone with the reservation girl, I asked her, "Will J be working on Saturday night?"

She said she wasn't sure. So, blah, blah, blah....we confirmed the details of our dinner, and hung up the phone.

About an hour later, I got the following text message from J:

Was that U? R U coming on Saturday?

I texted back:

Yep, that was me!

He replied:

You'd better behave yourself, BITCH.

My response:

I will, BASTARD.

Ahhhh......old friends..........don't they just warm the cockles of your heart??

Friday, April 24, 2009

You Wanna Bet?

I am not a gambler. I find no joy whatsoever in dumping my hard earned money into a machine that's going to suck it down like an ice cold beer on a 100 degree day.

Nope. Not my thing.

I would rather throw my money at a fantastic pair of shoes, a great handbag, or a mind altering restaurant experience....OH, YEAH. I'll have the bearnaise sauce with my big, fat filet mignon, please!

Yet, sometimes I get roped into taking a sucker bet. I only blame myself because....well, I am a gullible dork sometimes.

Case in point. You have probably seen my friend Lou on this blog several times. Hubby and I go out with him and his lovely wife, Linda, for dinner every so often. He is, for lack of a better word, MISCHIEVOUS.

Never mind. Forget that.

He is just downright CUH-RAZY!

Well, we went out to dinner last week to a great wine and tapas restaurant called Cork. When we got there, we noticed this guy playing the guitar in the corner of the room (apparently, this is their Wednesday night entertainment):

Without ANY doubt, Lou spurted out (to us and the waitress), "How much you wanna bet I have that guy's hat on by the end of the night?"

The waitress, who knew Mr. Guitar player very well and clearly was very convinced that he would never give up his fedora to a total stranger, replied, "No way."

I replied, "Yeah, right."

Thankfully, there was no money on the line.

Because, not only did the little bastard get the hat, but he got the guitar, too:

Moral of The Story: NEVER DOUBT A MAN WHO'LL WEAR A DIAPER(click on the link below if you haven't seen it before).

Mais Fica (More For Me): That's What Friends Are For

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Hungry-Girl Rocks!

Last night, my friend Debbie and I went to a book signing for Lisa Lillien's new book. For those of you who are unfamiliar with her (where have you been?), she is the one and only Hungry-Girl! And she is AWESOME! She just released her second cookbook (which is number 1 on the NY Times Bestseller List TODAY) and trust me, it's fantastic. Here's a peek:

So, I have been a fan of Lisa's since her e-mail newsletter debuted. When I found out she was coming to town, I was not going to miss it. My friend Deb and I drove our happy asses to Providence and waited excitedly for about an hour before Hungry-Girl appeared. First, she chatted and answered questions:

Then she gave out snacks and goodies:

Then, we got in line to take pictures with her and have her sign our books. Please note the cutting board that I personalized for her. She loved it! And I love that she loved it because, well, I am an ass-kisser and a brown-nose. You got a problem with that??

And here is a close-up of the cutting board (who doesn't love their name on stuff?):

Finally, here is what Lisa (A.K.A. Hungry-Girl) wrote in my cookbook:

If you have a chance to meet Lisa Lillien and her crew, do it! She is so nice. Really....She promotes good health and healthy eating and is so great to her fans. I wasn't disappointed and you wouldn't be either. Buy her book! Make her recipes! They taste good and your ass will get smaller. It's a win-win situation, people!!

Oh, and one more thing. This is me and my friend Deb after our meeting with Hungry-Girl:

We were starvin like Marvin, so we headed off to the Cheesecake Factory (see the devil's food behind us?) where we TOTALLY refrained from eating that disgustingly rich crap (sour grapes, right?) and indulged, instead, in Vietnemese Shrimp Summer Rolls and Perrier. I SWEAR TO TOFU SHIRATAKI NOODLES, I'M NOT LYIN!!

Our motivation?

NOPE, not Hungry-Girl.

The fact is, Deb has two months to fit into her wedding dress and I have two months to fit into the "BEST LADY" dress.

And we want to look "perty."

It's called VANITY, dudes.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Let Them Eat Cake

The hubby's birthday was Friday, right?

And I have been eating cake for D--A--Y--S, right?

So yesterday, I brought the leftover chocolate cake and a whole carrot cake into work so I WOULD EAT NO MORE! I passed out big chunks to the people that work in my building. The recipients were licking their chops. Yet, they were a tad pissed off at the same time. You know the drill...You want to eat the indulgent yummies. Yet, you don't want your arse to get any bigger.....

So, what did I do today to tick them off even more?

I brought in a half of a cheesecake along with the corresponding blueberry and strawberry toppings:

When I went next door to unload the cheesecake, my friend Heather (the first person I usually dump my junk food on) yelled, "YOU ARE SATAN'S SISTER!"

I don't know why. But, I thought that her comment was just SO FUNNY.....especially since I remembered taking this picture of her recently at a Mexican restaurant and it does in fact appear that SHE is the one with the horns:

How ya like me now, HEATHA????

Monday, April 20, 2009

Don't Give Me That!

Last week, hubby and I spent a whole day doing "spring" cleaning at home. We move and cleaned behind furniture (yes, even though you can't see them, the dust mites are lurking, people). We cleaned windows. We changed curtains. And, we got rid of LOADS of stuff.

Now, some of you may know that the hubby and I like to keep our surroundings tidy. OK, OK, it's more like we have OCD. I admit it. Are you happy, now?

Anyway, all of this cleaning and purging of "stuff" has lead me to believe that a blog about good gift giving is in order. Because, basically, all of the shit that we got rid of is crap that people gave us. Now, I would like to begin by apologizing if I am indeed portraying myself as an ungrateful gift recipient. I am not. Really.

However DUDES, some of the gifts that people give me/you/us are just plain WRETCHED. I mean, c'mon!! I know that you know of whence I speak (where did I get "whence" from, I am not William Shakespeare?).

Anyhow, we have all gotten crappy gifts and have felt obligated to keep them. So, we display them for awhile to appease the gift giver then, we shove them in the basement/closet/attic and shake our heads in disbelief every time we run across them pondering, "What the hell was (fill in the blank) thinking when she/he gave me that nasty thing?"

So, let me share with you what I think are GOOD gifts to give and receive and the reasons why. And, I am a good gift giver, people. So, heed my advice and your friends won't be talking about you and your "lame" presents behind your back:

Good Gifts:
1. Cash: Don't believe that it's impersonal. One size fits all and the recipient will think of you when they spend it on something they love.

2. Gift Cards: Who doesn't love a free meal, movie, or trip to the coffee shop? Nuff said.

3. A Nice Bottle of Wine: You can enjoy it with your significant other, your friends, or if your not a drinker, you can regift it. Now, remember, NO SCREW CAPS PLEASE. No one wants to wash their cheese down with wine that tastes like dirty dish water (not that I would know what that tastes like).

4. Food: This includes: chocolate, pastries, fruit baskets, nuts, candy, etc...But, does not include Christmas fruit cake. Yuck. If, as in the case of fruitcake, it can be used to bang nails, as a doorstop, or to maim people, don't present it as a gift. The recipient will probably wretch at the thought of eating it and then just hock it into the woods (yes, I did).

5. Scented Candle: Generally speaking, most people like candles. If it smells good to you, your gift recipient will probably like it, too. Again, use your judgement (assuming it is good judgement). If you're unsure about a scent, ask the saleslady, your husband (or wife), and/or a friend to confirm that your candle choice doesn't smell like cat urine.

Bad Gifts: (from my own private collection)
1. Wall Hangings: I am sorry. But, to the person who game me this ridiculous housewarming gift, what in the frick were you thinking and what am I supposed to do with these ginormous lame-ass glasses? Hello? Anybody?? I mean, I don't have a friggin eyeball fetish. And, I am not an optometrist. So, what else can I say but, WHAT THE HELL?

2. Nick Knacks: OK. I just can't control myself here so I'm gonna rat out this gift giver. It's from my sister. I don't know where I'm supposed to put this spork-handed wooden woman with her mammalian protuberances hanging to her waist. But, I do know where I'd LIKE TO PUT HER, BIG SISTER!! Is this supposed to remind me of where my boobs are going to end up in twenty years?

3. Clothes: Clothing is a very personal gift. Unless you KNOW the person that you are buying it for REALLY WELL, please refrain from purchasing clothing as gifts. You see, as in my case, I have what you would refer to as an "ample bosom." So, when you take a woman with an "ample bosom" and dress her in a furry collared leopard print sweater, she will look like a hooker. I do not like looking like a hooker. Therefore, I do not appreciate animal prints. So, save your money and save my reputation and give me cash. Thank. You. Very. Much.

4. Pictures Of Your Kids: I know, I know. You think they are adorable and you want to share them with the world. However, we don't know them from Jack and we barely know you and now we are going to feel guilty filing the Christmas card with little Billy Bob's and little Mary Sue's picture on it in the recycle bin. Do us a favor. Don't do that anymore. Send pictures of your little sweeties to family and friends only. Then, when we open the mail, we won't have to ask the rest of the household, "Does anyone know who the hell is this?"

5. Cheap Aromatherapy: There is nothing more relaxing than a nice, long bath. However, when you take a bath using those cheap-ass bath salts that your Aunt Millie gave you (God rest her soul) and you have to go the doctor because you have second degree burns on your "pippy" area, the relaxing experience is shot to shit. Don't be a cheap bastard. Do not buy bath salts, gels, soaps, or lotions on clearance unless you are using them on yourself (and good luck to ya). Women are "delicate." And they don't particularly enjoy feeling like they are peeing razor blades. Ouch.

Live it, learn it, people.

Live it. Learn it.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Happy Birthday!!!

Today, I have survived on a diet of birthday cake and potato chips. It's my hubby's birthday!!

He is 30/15. That's how he disguises the ugly truth of being 45. Let's humor him, shall we?

Anywho, here are some pictures of the family gathering to celebrate:

Here's the birthday cake (chocolate, of course):

Here's the birthday boy blowing out his candles (he's cute):

This is my Mom and me. She hates to have her picture taken. Too bad, so sad for her because now she's on the internet for the whole world to see (or at least the three people that read my blog):

This is hubby and his Dad having a spontaneous father/son moment (not really....I made them take this picture):

And last, but not least, this is Jess (our niece), Jon (our nephew), and hubby's Mom, Betty:

That's it for today, dudes. Just wanted to share the hubby's birthday celebration. Have a nice weekend!!!


Wednesday, April 15, 2009

An Apple A Day.....Gives You Something To Throw At The Doctor

A Letter To My Gynecologist:

Dear Dr. McGenitals,

Yesterday, I came to visit you for a routine exam and as a result, I thought I should bring a few things to your attention.

First, I don't like that every time you come near me with that frigid metal speculum you say, "Here's comes that metal thing!" Like I should be so frickin excited....

And, it's not a metal thing. It's a freezing cold SPECULUM. And even though I am barlicky bare assed when in your presence, my brain still functions and I am able to process vocabulary words that contain more than two syllables. How about next time, I respond with a dropkick to your head and say, "And here comes that wooden thing (that would be the heel of my shoe, ladies).

Now, I would also like to file a complaint with your patient wardrobe department. Why? How about because I always freeze my arse off while waiting for you to drag your happy ass into the exam room. Do you really think that a paper sheet is going to keep me warm in a room that is -10 degrees?

Come on, DUDE! My insurance company is basically paying you to fondle my FUN BAGS and probe all around my HOOHA! And, I don't even ask you to buy me dinner first! Is it really too much to expect you to provide me with a cotton sheet instead of one made by Bounty? I don't need a "quicker picker upper" blankie. I need a "keep your nipples from shooting across the room because it is so damn cold" blankie. Please keep that in mind.

Finally, I do not need to hear how I am "up two pounds" from last year. I know that it's your "job" to make me aware of my weight gain. However, you are way fatter than me. And I mean W--A--Y fatter. So, step away from the naked chick, and go have yourself another Ring Ding, buster. Cuz I don't wanna hear it.

I think that'll do it for now.

See you next year!


Monday, April 13, 2009

Barbecue Chicken Pizza, Anyone?

I've never posted a recipe before but I HAVE to today.

One of the things that the hubby and I both LOVE is barbecue chicken pizza. But, like most indulgent foods, it is not very good for you. So, over the weekend, I made my own version and let me just say that it was AWESOME. Try it. If you are a weight watcher, I swear, you will fall madly in love with me...Ooops...I mean it.

Here's the recipe:

*2 tubes low fat crescent rolls
*1 cup barbecue sauce (I used Jack Daniels No. 7)
*3/4 lb. chicken breast tenders, cooked and shredded
*3 slices turkey bacon, cooked and crumbled
*1-1/2 cups Kraft 2% low fat shredded cheddar cheese
*1/2 cup low fat ranch dressing
*1/2 tsp. chili powder
*1/4 cup chopped scallions


Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Roll the crescent rolls out on a pizza stone or cookie sheet (I use a stoneware bar pan). Pinch all seams together to create one large pizza crust. Place in the oven and bake for about 8-10 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove crust from oven and turn on the broiler. Spread the barbecue sauce over the dough. Spread the chicken, then the bacon, and finally the cheese over the top. Place pan under the broiler until the cheese melts (the cheese kind of puffs up), about 3-5 minutes.

In a bowl, combine the ranch dressing and the chili powder. Drizzle the dressing over the pizza with a spoon (or a Ziploc bag with the corner cut off). Top with scallions.

Makes 8 large squares:

Sunday, April 12, 2009

"Ears" Lookin At You, Kid

Every year, I say I'm not going to do it.

This year was no exception.

But, as is the norm, I just couldn't control myself.

I gave into temptation and did some serious damage.

My apologies to the Easter Bunny:

I would also like to apologize to my thighs, my ass, and the seams in my pants for any inconvenience that they may incur as a result of my chocolate frenzy.

I should be stoned.......with Cadbury Creme Eggs and marshmallow Peeps.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Heart To Heart

Some of you may not know this but, I have been a cardiac patient since I was nine years old.

The first time I saw a cardiologist was a result of an elementary school physical. Remember those? Some old doctor came into school on a random day and checked to see if anyone in your class had flat feet, scoliosis, and/or head lice (remember the ticklish sticks probing around in your hair?).

In fourth grade, during my school physical, the doctor thought that my heart sounded funny. So, he sent me home with a note for my Mother requesting that I get further medical testing. I bawled the whole way home, positive that my days on earth were numbered.

As it turned out, I had a heart murmur. I didn't need any special treatment or medication. And, I could still run and play and be normal. Whew! That was a relief.

So, the next scare came when I was seventeen. I was swimming at my sister's house when suddenly my heart went into Atrial Fibrillation. I didn't know what was happening at the time, but I knew that it was serious. Luckily, I was able to drag my sorry butt out of the pool.

When I was able to catch my breath, I went indoors, changed my clothes, and went home to lie down. My heart continued to race for HOURS before it finally started beating normally again.

These cardiac episodes happened frequently to me over the next few years. I saw several male cardiologists and none of them were able to determine what I had because when they monitored my heart, it always behaved normally. So, they told me I was anxious/ hormonal/ having panic attacks.

Finally, five years ago, I had the worst episode of A-Fib EVER. It started at my husband's 40Th birthday party. As his birthday bash was coming to a conclusion, I started to lose my hearing. Then I felt faint. Then my heart was beating so fast that you could see the front of my shirt jumping up and down. I managed to keep it together until all of our guest left. Then, like a dumb ass, I made my husband take me home so I could try to sleep it off. No dice.

At 5:30am I was admitted to the hospital with my heart beating at 240 beats per minute. And for those of you who can't fathom what that might feel like, my heart was beating so fast that (A)I was setting off the alarms on all of the monitors that were connected to me, (B)I could not catch my breath long enough to conduct a coherent conversation, and (C)I couldn't hear anything except for my heart beating in my ears. I was scared shitless.

Of course, the one funny thing that happened during this whole incident was that as my husband was sitting in the corner of the room thinking that I was probably going to "bite the big one" on his 40Th birthday, I was able to muster these words from my lips, "Paul....heh, heh, heh (that's me panting). If anything....heh, heh, heh, (me panting some more) happens to me...heh, heh, heh (yep, more panting), your PRESENT is under the bed."

Yeah, I KNOW that I was in the midst of a medical crisis but, what the hell? I paid a lot of money for that freakin watch and he was going to find it, wear it, and love it, damn it!

So, to make a long story even longer, I was admitted to the cardiac care center of the hospital where I was medicated intravenously in hopes that the drugs would return my heartbeat to normal. If that didn't happen within twenty-four hours, the doctors were going to basically stop my heart and restart it again with electric shock. Oh, joy. I felt like a Volkswagen with a dead battery.

Thankfully, I did not have to go that scary route, as the meds kicked in after about nine hours.

So, you're probably wondering where that leaves me now.

Well, it's like this:

I was finally correctly diagnosed as a patient with Atrial Fibrillation and not classified as some crazy, hormonal chick who was anxious.

I still have episodes sporadically, but I know what to do when they happen (and yes, they still scare the crap out of me).

I have a great female cardiologist who I trust implicitly. Together, we have implemented a course of action that I feel good about and keeps me feeling like myself.

And finally, I (like most) still struggle everyday with my choices. I don't exercise nearly enough. I don't always eat the right things (just the opposite). And, I SOMETIMES avoid those doctor's visits just so I don't have to hear the same ole "you need to lose weight" crap that annoys me so much.

Sometimes, life can seem unfair (I'm talking to you, naturally skinny bitches!). But, overall, it is good. And I am grateful. For everything.

That's not to say that I wouldn't trade in a family member or two for a faster metabolism.

Monday, April 6, 2009

(No) Sex In The City

Last Thursday night, hubby and I went out for dinner with our friends, Lou and Linda. They are a lot of fun and have become a regular staple in our social lives. However, I must let it be known that LOU is quite the BAD influence.

The evening started with a fantastic dinner in Providence, RI at this wonderful restaurant called Temple. It is located in the swanky Renaissance Hotel and it overlooks the state capitol:

Our view during dinner:

After dinner, hubby and I led our friends upstairs so they could check out the fancy hotel lobby. When we got there, LOU started the dissent into mischief. First, he plopped himself into one the fancy regal chairs and stuck his nose up in the air like he was the King:

Then, hubby joined in. Apparently, they were having a smashing good time:

Hmmm....Do Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb come to mind?

Anyhow, after these pictures were taken, Lou jumped up and headed for the front desk. I, afraid of what he might be up to, ran after him. When I finally caught up to him, he waived me down and said OUT LOUD.....TO front of the girl at the desk, "Honey, she said we still have to pay the full room rate even if we only want to use the room for an hour!"

Yep, he was pretending that he was a perv (what a stretch) and I was his woman and WE wanted to indulge in a "quickie" in this very snooty hotel. All of a sudden, Linda and my hubby walked around the corner to find us and Lou yelled out (to the front desk girl), "Oh my God! Here comes my wife and her boyfriend!" And pretending to hide from them, he sheepishly ducked.

The poor desk clerk was so mortified and confused that she just held her head and stared in wonder. Finally, I told her that Lou was just kidding and he was kinda sorta a little crazy and he was just trying to "ruffle" her up and we absolutely weren't sexual deviants and, " Please ignore the wack-job man in my company."

Needless to say, she was happy to see us leave.

After all of that, we collectively decided that the night wouldn't be complete without some more overindulgence. So, we ended the evening at a lovely little cafe called Pastiche. And when we walked in the door, this is what we saw. Brace yourselves:

You're probably thinking, "Oh, no you didn't!"

Oh, yes we did.

And then, we waddled home.

God bless America.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Macy's

Yesterday, this was the page on the daily calendar that's on my desk at work. I had to post it because....Well, I thought it was pretty damn funny.

My sincere apologies to all of the men in my life who may take offense.

(Um, yeah......I'm not really sorry, but I do have a big birthday coming up in a three months and I want to get presents.)