Monday, August 31, 2009

It Was Self Defense! I Swear!

This morning, after weighing himself and finding out that he's gained a few pounds, my husband announced that he was going on a diet.

I was still lying in bed, when he walked around the bedroom announcing how he was going to eat healthier, drink more water (and less Sangria), and exercise at least five days a week. As he went on and on about his plan, I just kind of rolled over and pulled the covers over my head. I thought, UGH...too early in the morning to worry about diet and exercise. Stop talking and go away.

He didn't.

Realizing that he was looking for some feedback and if I ever wanted him to STOP TALKING I had better respond or else he would continue to talk and talk and talk at that God forsaken hour of the freaking morning completely oblivious to the fact that I was having visions of smothering him with my pillow, I rolled out of bed and responded, "Good for you. Diet good. Exercise good. Yay for Paul."

Then, I shuffled my wonky ass into the bathroom. After peeing like a racehorse, I decided I'd better get on the scale. Because if Mr. Metabolism has gained weight after vacationing in Sin City, and I was his partner in Sangria, then I could only imagine what havoc has been wreaked on my thighs.

I got on the scale (the extremely accurate kind that they have at the doctor's office) and pushed the little black slider thingy to where it used to be pre-vacation.

Hmmm. The lever didn't move.

Again, I moved the DAMN slider thingy to the right a few pounds.

Again, the lever didn't move.


For the last freakin time, I moved that stupid slider thingy over...two more pounds. And finally, the lever bounced up. I started screaming things like, Holy crap! What the hell? This sucks big ones! For the love of all that is sacred and holy! I am such a lard ass!

Clearly startled by my outbursts, Hubby rushed into the bathroom. "WHAT? What's the matter?" He asked.

I responded, "Oh my freakin crap! Do you know how much I weigh? You are not even going to believe it! I'm serious! I weight XYZ pounds! That is the most I have ever weighed! Son.Of.A.Bitch."

And his response?

He smiled, lifted his right hand up, high-fived me, and said,

Yeah! SNAP....What the crap is that supposed to mean?

And he was I'd just won an Olympic Gold Medal or something!

I don't know, dudes.

But I think I need to get Hubby to a doctor.

Unbeknownst to me, he apparently suffered a brain injury on the Big Shot last week....

Either that. Or, misery loves company.

I think I'll go with the brain injury theory.

That theory makes me want to stab him much less.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Sorry, Karl. You're Not My Type.

Day 5 of The Vegas Extravaganza: The Final Frontier

On the last night of our Vegas vacation, I decided to put Dr. Wayne Dyer's theory about the Power of Intention to the test. In my mind, I consistently rehearsed my mantra saying to myself, "I intend to win a ginormous jackpot so I can retire and be the Portuguese Princess that I was meant to be."

So, I walked around the Wynn Casino until I found the sparkiest, most colorful, slot machine with the highest progressive jackpot that I could find...TEN MILLION DOLLARS.

I sat down at the machine, loaded it up with a $50 dollar bill, and began "max betting." After about 45 minutes, my initial fifty dollar investment had grown to FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS! Whoo hoo!

Just as I was pondering whether I should take the money and run, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to my right and blonde woman(?) that looked like Karl Malden:

Amateur Artist's Rendition:

She smiled at me and said, "Excuse me. Do you mind if I use that ashtray?" It was sitting to the right of my ten million dollar slot machine. Immediately, I picked it up, handed it to her and said, "Oh, no. Not at all. Here you go!" And I smiled.

Without batting a manly eyelash, she responded, "I can tell you don't smoke. You have L-O-V-E-L-Y skin."

"Oh, thanks," I said. And I turned away because I swear I saw her lick her lips or something. Ewwwwww....What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But "her and I" WERE NOT HAPPENING IN VEGAS! Not taking my snub for an answer, she said again, "NO. REALLY! YOU ARE LOVELY."

Immediately I thought, Son-of-a-bitch. She wants to have me for dinner. So I ignored her, dug my cell phone out, and called the hubby...all the while playing max bet on my slot machine because I knew that the Power of Intention was going to bring me the big bucks.

And here is the conversation I had with Hubs:

Hubs: HELLO?

Me: Paul? Where are you?

Hubs: Playing roulette. Why?

Me: You have to get over here right now!

Hubs: But, I'm winning.

Me: I don't care! There's a crazy lesbian lady that looks like Karl Malden from his Streets of San Francisco days hitting on me. She's staring and creeping me out!

A minute later, Hubs showed up. Karl or Karla, or whatever the hell you want to call her, kept smiling and batting her eyes at me from a video slot machine to my right. Blecccch!

I cashed out the remainder of my moolah and walked fast.

What I want to know is this: How come the Power of Intention didn't bring me a huge financial jackpot, but it brought me a lesbian that looked just like Karl Malden (BTW, I could totally do better than her)?

I never freakin intended for that to happen, Dr. Wayne Dyer.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

F-Bombs X 2

Vegas Extravaganza....Take 4

All last week, while we were in Vegas, my friend Linda (Crazy Lou's wife) kept telling me that she wanted to cross something off of her "Bucket List." She wanted to ride the Big Shot which is on top of the Stratosphere Tower. She told me that she needed some moral support and could only do it with my help. Translation: She wanted me to ride it with her because nothing says FRIENDSHIP like crapping your pants together.

We talked about riding the Big Shot all week and actually got Lou and the Hubby to agree that they would do it with us. But on the morning that we were actually supposed to follow through with riding the awesome-est thrill ride in Vegas, Lou called. He told me that Linda had a backache and riding the awesome-est thrill ride in Vegas wasn't going to happen. "Whatever," I said. "It's no big deal, Lou. Paul and I have already experienced the ride once before. We're going to head out and walk down Las Vegas Boulevard...and check out some of the older casinos. We'll meet up later!"

And I swear I heard that little bastard let out a sigh of relief.
Fast forward to 1:00PM....

I was playing a penny slot machine at Circus Circus (BTW, it smells like horse in there....Yuck) when my cell phone rang. Linda wanted to know where we were and asked if we wanted her and Lou to come and pick us up so that we could all hang out together by the Wynn pool. Not having much luck at the slots, and tired of breathing in the horse poop smell, I said, "Ooooh! Yes! Come and get us!"

Within minutes, Linda and Lou pulled up and off we went.

While we were driving away from the horse poop casino, Linda turned to me and the following conversation ensued:

Linda: I am so sad about my Bucket List! Lou said you didn't really want to go on the Big Shot ride....

Me: Wha? Wha? WHAT?

Linda: Lou said he called you both this morning and you really didn't feel up to riding the Big Shot.

Me: LOUIS! You big, fat liar! You told me that Linda wasn't feeling up to riding the Big Shot because she had a backache!

Linda: Louie! Is that true? Did you blame me when you knew that riding the Big Shot was on my Bucket List?

Lou: (slinking in his seat because he knew that we found out that he is a liar, liar, pants on fire and was apparently too chicken to ride the awesome-est thrill ride in Vegas but didn't want to look like a big cissy and therefore blamed the whole thrill ride cancellation on his poor innocent wife who was completely oblivious to the fact that she was carrying his balls in her purse)

Linda: That's it! We're going right now!

Me: (from the backseat) Whoo hoo!

Fast forward to the top of the Stratosphere tower...

Linda and I were walking through the Stratosphere Casino on our way to the Big Shot, when we decided to stop for a pee. Because, even though we were WAY braver than Lou, that damn ride was freakin S-C-A-R-Y and we didn't want to walk around for the rest of the day with a puddle of urine in our shorts.

When we came out of the ladies' room, we couldn't find Lou. Turns out my Hubby, who was also a tad bit nervous about the Big Shot, but was trying to be a brave little buckaroo for Lou, found Lou hiding in a corner near a vending machine (Oh please, like we wouldn't hunt his ass down and drag him up there by his hair...OH, WAIT! He has no hair. Never mind!)

Wimpy, Wimpy, Wimpy....

After FINALLY dragging Sir Wimps Alot to the absolute top of the Stratosphere Tower, this is what we saw:

The View From The Top...Absolutely Breathtaking!!

A View Of The Big Shot (See the teeny, tiny, brave people all the way at the top?)

Finally, it was our turn to get on.

Linda and I were nervous.

Hubby was a little more nervous than we were.

And Lou? Well, Lou was pretty much pooping his drawers...Hehehehe (sorry, still laughing).

So, we sat in our seats, got strapped in, and WHOOSH...Without any notice, we were whipped 160 feet in the air (and back down again and back up again and back down again) in a matter of seconds. And here, my friends, was the exact conversation I heard during the awesome-est thrill ride in Vegas:

Hubby: (to my immediate right) F*CK MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

Me: (screaming my head off) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Linda: (to my immediate left) OH, SHIT!!! HOW MANY TIMES IS IT GOING TO DO THIS????? (she meant go up and down)

And finally, Mr. Poopy Pants...

Lou: (to my far left) F*CK THISSSSSSS!!!!!!!!

And the final piece de resistance of our jaunt on the AWESOME-EST THRILL RIDE IN LAS VEGAS?? Our group photo:

Looks To Me Like Lou's Having A Bowel Movement, No?

When the ride was over, Hubs and I were so excited with our daring accomplishment! And Linda was exceptionally thrilled that she could cross one more thing off of her Bucket List!

And Lou?

Well, he got off the ride and walked over to where some guys were waiting in line for their turn on the Big Shot and he, for lack of a better description, adjusting his "hairy boys."

When he noticed a gentleman staring at him, Lou looked him in the eye and said, "I'm just trying to put my nuts back where they used to be. Good luck!" And he walked away.

I laughed my ass off. Seriously.

Of course, I suppose I wouldn't have thought it was that funny if I had a "set" of my own.

Ahhhh....Sometimes, it's really nice being a girl.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Vegas Extravaganza...Take 3

On day 3 of our Vegas vacation (Jeez...Is it me or do I sound a little like Clark Griswold?), we woke up p-r-e-t-t-y late. We were seriously lacking in the sleep department and it was finally catching up to us. Hey, we are in our forties after all, right? Please refrain from agreement.

Anyway, I dragged my butt into the bathroom to shower and get ready for a little sightseeing with my peeps, when suddenly I saw it...conspicuously tucked underneath the right bathroom sink:

Dudes! Seriously! I know that Vegas is the "Skinny Bitch" capital of the world. But, what the hell?! There I am totally spending boatloads of money at this hotel on chocolate, and frozen beverages, and pizza at midnight, and crab leg buffets, and red velvet cupcakes! And how does Steve Wynn repay me? With a damn reminder that what happens in Vegas, stays on my ass and thighs. Thanks, Mr. Wynn! I appreciate that!

Anyway, after shoving that piece of shit scale in the closet and finally getting ready, we set out to take in the sights. And man, did we EVER.

So without further ado, I proudly present for you, Sally's RAUNCHY VEGAS PICTORIAL. Enjoy, my friends.....

Raunchiest Vegas T-Shirt:

Funniest T-Shirt (on a "portly" dude that was playing Roulette with the Hubby):

Best Ensemble For Churchgoers:

Best Boudoir Attire....Also Doubles As A Midnight Snack (Remember those candy necklaces you wore as a child?):
Anybody know how many Weight Watchers Points There Are In This Getup?

Best Vegas Billboard (on Route 15):'s Easier Than You Think!

And Finally, The Best Ways To Prance Around Town Incognito:

Yes, The Boobs Are Wearing Boobs....

And that's all for today folks! Hope you enjoyed it!!

Stay Tuned For Tomorrow's Episode: Two Grown Men Hurl F-Bombs And Poop Their Pants On Top Of The Stratosphere Tower!!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Rico And Charlie...Best Friends Forever

What I did in Vegas....Take 2.

Last Monday, on day 2 of our Vegas Extravaganza, Hubs and I met Lou and Linda for breakfast and then we headed to the Fashion Show Mall. I made plans for the four of us to have dinner at the SW Steakhouse (at the Wynn Resort) that evening and Lou needed to buy some pants. Apparently, Mr. Lou was planning to walk around barlicky bare-assed all week or something because he left all of his pants at home. But, whatever.

Anywho, we meandered over to the mall, bought the Exhibitionist some damn pants and ended up having lunch at a chocolate shop. Seriously. We ate chocolate for lunch and washed it down with iced tea. That's what I call food for the soul, people!

We bought a box of Ethel M's Pecan Brittle and ate some everyday as a pre-breakfast appetizer. Forgive me Weight Watchers. I knew not what I was doing to my ass (Oh, alright....I knew exactly what I was doing).

After the boys (Lou and Hubs) bought a bazillion dollars worth of clothing at the Tommy Bahama store, we went back to the hotel, changed into our bathing suits, and headed to the pool.

Since we were apparently so into the healthy eating, we decided to indulge in a little afternoon snack while splashing about. We had already indulged in a little dairy, you know...because the chocolate was made with milk. So, now we decided that a little something from the fruit food group would be a wise choice. Observe:

WHAT? Hubby and I had lime in our Margaritas! Lou and Linda had Raspberry Mudslides! That counts as fruit, right?

Oh and I'm sorry. But, I just have to take a brief moment to point out that my boobs look absolutely stunning in this picture. Don't they? And FYI, to all of you Vegas Whores (of which there were many)....They are REAL and they are fabulous (Remember that Terry Hatcher episode on Seinfeld?)! Thank.You.Very.Much.

Sorry for the digression.

Anywho, that was how we spent the rest of our afternoon...floating around the lovely Wynn resort pool fruit. Yeah, that's right...several servings of fruit....for each of us....Yep, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Now, something you may or may not know about Lou is that he can AND WILL talk a dog off a meat wagon. Seriously. He can sell ice cubes to Eskimos. He can sell you some swamp land down in the Everglades. I am soooo not kidding. And this day, he basically wandered around the pool talking to everyone and anyone who would engage him in conversation.

Some people swam away from us when they saw Lou coming. They were like, "Um, we can't be your friend because our flight leaves in 10 minutes and holy crap...we're getting the eff away from you, crazy bald guy!" But then we made nice with some lovely people from Vancouver, Canada, who actually followed us from the shady side of the pool to the sunny side of the pool. They were not ascared of crazy Lou at all! Of course, I'm sure it didn't hurt that the Hubby bought them a round of alcoholic beverages!

Hey, nothing says friendship like Raspberry Mudslides, people!

Anyway, these are our new friends:
Topping the heap of hotties is Yumi.
Second row (left to right) is Linda and me.
Bottom row (left to right) is Tracy and Judi.
*Judi looks like she's naked in this picture. But, I swear to her whole family, SHE HAD A BATHING SUIT ON! HONEST!

The thing about making friends on vacation is that Lou is like a cat. You know how stray cats keep coming around when you feed them? Yeah, well Yumi, Tracy, and Judi better watch their backs because it's only a matter of time before Crazy Bald Guy ends up crossing the border into Canada and sleeping on their couches.

Now, we also met Judi's husband at the pool who was kind of quiet but apparently enjoys a good Mai Tai. He and Judy work together (I feel your pain, sister!).

And we met another friend of the Vancouver Posse, named Randy. Apparently, Randy has a brother named Rick that looks just like Lou! And he was supposed to email me a picture of him. But, he hasn't, yet. Because he is probably too busy counting his Vegas loot since the girls said that he was the BIG WINNER of the group.

And before you ask, I did not win any money.

I didn't lose my shirt. But, I did come home with short sleeves, if you know what I mean.

However, if I had been a big winner like to the tune of like SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS (You listening, Randy?), I totally would have bought my friends new Coach pocketbooks. Just sayin.

After spending the afternoon by the pool with our new peeps, we went to our rooms and got gussied up for dinner at the fancy schmancy SW Steakhouse (where we finally ate some respectable food).

Dinner was fab.

But what was more amazing than the lovely meal that we collectively enjoyed, was the fact that a simple pre-dinner shower and a change of clothing magically turned Lou and Paul into:

Rico Suave & Charlie Harper

Seriously. Don't their shirts just make you want to sing this?

I know! Right?!

Anyway, after a long dinner, Rico was feeling the wine:

And Charlie Harper followed suit:

You got it, dudes! Those are two wild and crazy guys! Whatever...

After dinner, Rico Suave and the Wifey went to bed.

Carlie Harper, perked up a bit by the sound of people screaming at a roulette table, decided to try his hand at red and black. And, I headed for the slots (until 3 am).

And for the record, I said slots, not sluts.

I know it's Vegas. But, I am not that kind of girl.

Stay Tuned For Tomorrow's Episode: What The Hell Is That Scale Doing In My Bathroom, Steve Wynn?

Monday, August 24, 2009

Viva Las Vegas

Hello, my friends! Did you miss me? Did ya?

Well, if you didn't, you can pretty much bite me. If you did, then I love you too, man!

So, you're probably wondering where the hell I've been....

I went to Vegas, baby!

Here's the deal. Last Sunday, hubby and I decided to fly off to Sin City to surprise our friends, Lou and Linda. I know what you're thinking. Lou is a crazy bastard in his natural habitat. What kind of trouble could he possibly get me into in a town known for boozing, gambling, and sexual deviance?

Plenty. That's for damn sure.

And I'm going to tell you all about it this week right here. Please note that since this will be Vegas Week on my blog, you may want to shield the kiddies from my CUH-RAZY rants and raves. Just sayin.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

So, last Sunday, the hubby and I flew to Vegas. When we got there, we checked into our hotel (the Wynn...which is so AWESOME, by the way), threw our luggage in our room, and set out to surprise Lou and Linda with our presence.

We knew that they were in Palm Springs and we wanted to be creative about announcing our arrival in Vegas. So, we decided to cart Little Louie, the pervy little doll that they gave the hubby for his birthday, around town and take pictures of him at some "famous" Vegas locations (a la the Travelocity Gnome). Then, we would email the photos to Lou's phone.

Here's the first hint we gave them announcing that we were in town:

Little Louie yanking his Wee Wee in in front of the Bellagio....

When Lou and Linda didn't respond to this photo, we emailed them another one:

Little Louie polishing his Rocket at Restaurant Spago (Please accept my sincere apologies, Mr. Wolfgang Puck)

After we STILL didn't get a response from Lou and the Missus, we were like WTF? Are they ignoring us? Where the hell are they? So, again we emailed them a picture of Pervy Little Louie:

Here he is. This time, spanking his Monkey at Caesars Palace:

About two hours later, with still no response from Lou, I was pissed. He was ruining my very creative surprise arrival in Las Vegas. What the hell? So, Hubs and I, tired from all of the looks we were getting from carting around that wretched little doll, headed back to our hotel room. Once there, I grabbed my cell phone and I called Lou. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Hello LOUIS (Think Hello Neuman on Seinfeld)!

Lou: What do you want?

Me: Um. Did you get the pictures that I sent you?

Lou: Yes. I just called your house to tell you how funny they are. You are amazing at Photoshop!

Me: I didn't use Photoshop.

Me: Yeah, right.

Me: I'm not kidding. We're here.

Lou: You're where?

Me: Paul and I are Vegas.

Lou: YOU ARE SO FULL OF SHIT! Hey, Linda (to his wife). She says they're in Vegas! SALLY, YOU ARE SO FULL OF SHIT!

Me: Lou, I'm not kidding. WE ARE HERE.

(Linda grabs the phone)

Linda: Honey, where are you?


Linda: You wouldn't lie to a former nun, would you (yes, she was a sister for 25 years and now she's married to Lou and hey, we all have our crosses to bare, right?)?

Me: Linda, listen to me. We are in Las Vegas. I swear. I will prove it by sending you a picture of Little Louie in our hotel room. Hold on.

And so I sent them this picture of Little Louie snapping his Carrot in our hotel room:

Finally, Lou, who still didn't believe me said, "I'll believe it when you call me back on a land line." Then CLICK. He hung up the phone. Bastard.

So I picked up the hotel phone, dialed his cell, and he answered, "Son of a bitch! You are here! We're leaving Palm Springs right now! We'll be there in a few hours!"

Fast forward to midnight....

Lou, Linda, the Hubby, and myself are sitting in a Vegas restaurant washing down some grilled pizza and calamari with Sangria. Linda and Lou are exhausted from their drive. The hubby and I are beat to hell because we only slept one hour in the last two days. When we finished eating, we decided that we were all way too exhausted to do anything else but sleep. So, off we went to our hotel rooms (they stayed next door to us at the Encore) to get some shut eye.

As the hubby and I rode the elevator to the twenty second floor, we peered at ourselves in the mirror on the wall.

I seriously let out a gasp and said aloud to Hubs, "Dude. One hour of sleep in the last two days...We look like we've been ridden hard and put away wet."

To which Hubs responded, "Yeah. We look like total shit. But, you know what they say.....What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

Amen to that, brother. Seriously.

Stay Tuned For Tomorrow's Episode: It's Easy To Buy Friends At The Hotel Pool When You Ply Them With Liquor

Thursday, August 13, 2009

An Act Of Congress

Yesterday's conversation with Hubby...that totally sent me over the edge:

Hubby: I need to tell you something.

Me: What?

Hubby: Promise you won't get mad.

Me: I won't get mad (fingers crossed behind my back).


Me: FINE. I promise (fingers still crossed behind my back so it doesn't count).

Hubby: Um. My face hurts.

Me: Excuse me?

Hubby: The left side of my hurts.

Me: What do you mean it HURTS?

Hubby: The entire left side of my face hurts, from my forehead to my jaw...It really hurts.

Me: Um. Can you be more specific?

Hubby: It hurts! And it's numb in some places. And that's not all. My left arm really hurts, too.

Me: ( panic rising in my throat) WHAT? How long has it been hurting?

Hubby: Four days....


Hubby: You're mad. You said you wouldn't get mad.

Me: Oh.My.God! I am not mad! I am furious! I need to call the doctor RIGHT NOW (running to the phone to call the doctor)! *grumble, grumble, huff, puff, uttering f-bombs under my breath*

ONE HOUR LATER:Hubby visits the doctor who sends him for a CT scan immediately.

TWO HOURS LATER:We are still waiting for the test results in the waiting room of a frigid clinic. I am hungry, cold, and WORRIED.

THREE HOURS LATER:The doctor tells Hubs that because he has developed a rash on his face, the cause of said mystery illness is probably viral (or perhaps an allergic reaction). He is not dying and a precautionary course of antibiotics was prescribed (whew).

For the record, the doctor also said that Hubs' CT scan was normal. Apparently, that means that he still has all of his marbles.

I beg to differ.

Moral of the Story:
*Men. You can't live with em'. You can't bury them in the backyard and collect the insurance money.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Wee Wee's Welcome

So. Yesterday at Weight Watchers, I'm was just about ready to get on the scale and be flogged for my cannoli indiscretions, when this gentleman who attends my meeting came over to me and made a comment about how he reads my blog even though it's a women only blog. Huh?

And me, being completely clueless to the fact that ANYONE actually reads my blog (let alone a DUDE!), looked at him and said, "Are you talking about me? My blog?" And he said, "Yes. I've been reading your blog and laughing my butt off even though it's a women's only blog."

OK. For the record, let me just say that I am happier than a pig in shit that anyone actually reads my blog.

And, my blog? It is definitely not just for women.

Sure, I've written about girlish things like my annual visit to the gynecologist, the time Wayne Newton tried to feel me up (still having nightmares), and wanting to bust my husband's face (on occasion). But that does not mean that this is a GIRLIE blog.

And to prove my point, I am making this post as MANLY as possible! This one's for you, guys!

OK...hmmm....where to start...

Oooh, I know! How about some eye candy, fellas?

Here you go! For your macho viewing pleasure, check out these shiny, red toolboxes, dudes! Suh-weet!

Ooh. And here's another one especially for the guys! Get ready boys. Throw an ice pack in your shorts and be prepared. Because I have never shown this to ANY OTHER man....except for my husband, of course.

To my male blog readers, I present: MY PIPES (control yourselves please)

And finally, because I seriously want to make all men feel right at home here on my blog site, I present:

The up, of course.

I hope that the three dudes that actually follow my blog feel better about its contents and truly realize that it is NOT JUST A BLOG FOR WOMEN. If they're still not convinced, I would be more than happy to reference a blog post about prostates, testicles, and penile implants. Seriously.

And you know I have the balls to do it.*

*Sorry. Couldn't help myself.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Paying The Piper

This morning I went back to Weight Watchers after a self imposed three week hiatus / 40Th birthday celebration. I know what you're thinking. My birthday was only ONE day. And you, my very perceptive friends, would be absolutely correct.

But that certainly did not stop me from celebrating my birthday for twenty-one days. And by celebrating, you know what I mean, right? Yep. I pretty much ate anything that wasn't securely fastened to a table and then washed it down with, not white...although I did find a place that makes red, white, peach, and champagne Sangria! Yippee!

Oooh. So sorry for the digression. I was having birthday flashbacks.

Okay, so now it's confession time. This morning at my Weight Watchers meeting, I hopped on the scale and after overindulging like a beast for three weeks, I gained 3.4 pounds. You know what that means.

You can cancel my subscription to the Flavored Butter of The Month Club because the Remorse Diet begins immediately.

Friday, August 7, 2009

You Like Me! You Really Like Me!---Sally Fields (Accepting Her Academy Award)

Dudes, like George and Weezie Jefferson, I am SOOOO movin' on up. Seriously. Check out the blog award that I received last week:

The base reads:

M&M Police Annual Award, 2009
Awarded to Sally Costa
Most Obnoxious Blogger

And in case you know not what this award is referring to, please click HERE and then HERE.

Sweet Jesus! Most obnoxious blogger! Frig the college degree in education, people! Finally, an accomplishment that my Mama will ooze Portuguese pride over!

For this most high honor, please indulge me while I thank the following, without whom this incredulous accomplishment would not have been possible:

*First, I would like to thank God for not hitting me in the noggin with a bolt of lightening every time I am vulgar...because if this actually happened every time I am vulgar, which you all know is quite often, my damn brain would totally be crispier than a very slow roasted Peking Duck by now.

*Second, I would like to thank my husband for giving me crap to bitch about by STAYING SO THIN despite eating like a beast...and thereby aiding me in UNIFYING all women who both read my blog, and also dream of force feeding their husbands or boyfriends (or husbands AND boyfriends...I don't judge) into diabetic comas (one of these days it'll be Twinkies til you puke, guys).

*Third, I would like to thank my Mom for constantly pointing out that even though she gave birth to nine children and I've given birth to zero children, her ass is still smaller than mine and I must get that from my father's side of the family and thank God that's all I got from them because I could have inherited characteristics that are WAY worse (hint: Can I interest anyone in some Portuguese moonshine?). Thanks for fueling the fires, Mama. Love ya.

*Fourth, I would like to thank all of my faithful blog readers for not only reading my posts, but also for leaving me such encouraging comments and not telling me that I should run and seek immediate psychiatric therapy. Without you, there would be no one to listen to me talk out my ass. And that would suck.

*And finally, I would like to thank my friend, Lou (and his wife Linda) for actually making this award for me. Oh, and for giving me crap to write about by doing shit like giving me crappy gifts, encouraging me to eat and drink like a PORKER, and causing scenes everywhere we go. Without you, I would be much quieter, much more reserved, and a hell of a lot skinnier. Love you guys!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, one and all!

Have a great weekend everybody!

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Hair's Looking At You Kid

I've told you that my husband is always saying to me, "I can't believe these things always happen to you." Right?

Well, prepare yourselves. This one's a doozy.

Yesterday after work, the Hubs and I went out for Chinese food.

Because it's kind of far from where we live, we hadn't been to this restaurant in a REALLY long time.

As soon as we walked in, we sat down in our booth and commenced reading the menus.

I was approximately one third through the food choices, when I busted out laughing and whipped out my camera (much to the hubby's dismay).

The first thing that cracked me up was this:

Did you happen to notice the "low calorie" label on the top left of the menu? Right above the DEEP FRIED CHUNKS OF CHICKEN in the H1 dish? Um, yeah. Me, too. Someone needs to tell Mr. Wong that there is nothing LOW FAT about DEEP FRIED ANYTHING. Nice try, Mr. Wong.

Then, I moved onto the next page of the menu and found these. Please note menu items B13 and C11 por favor:

Now, tell me my friends. Is it me? Or, does referring to food as "strange flavored" make you want to run screaming from said Chinese restaurant?

Seriously, Mr. Wong. Could you not have been a tad bit more CREATIVE?

And just how strange is the flavor? Huh? Am I going to take one bite of the Strange Flavored Chicken, turn to the hubby and say, "Hmmm...What a strange flavor? Kind of tastes a little like Elmer's Glue! (You're wondering how I know what glue tastes like, right? Hey, I was a kid once! Don't judge.)

Anyway, after getting past Mr. Wong's menu of horrors, I chose the chicken and broccoli (hold the strange flavor, please) and a nice tall glass of carbonated water with lemon. And this is when the whole meal went to shit....

Upon receiving my drink, I noticed a big honkin black hair in my glass.

Um. Gross.

OK, shit happens. And being of large Portuguese hair stature myself, I summoned the waitress, explained the situation and she brought me a fresh beverage. I'm not a drama queen (WHAT?) so I let the hairy water incident roll and I moved on....Until, I got my meal.

And you are never going to believe this shit. But halfway through my friggin chicken and broccoli, I found ANOTHER FRICKEN HAIR...IN MY FOOD! What the hell?

Well, by now, I'm all, Oh my freakin word I am seriously going to puke and don't you EVER bring me back to this wretched place and why is everyone here shedding their freaking hair all over my shit and you'd better get me right the hell out of here right now before I beat Mr. freakin Wong upside the head with my HAIRY CHICKEN PLATTER!

For freakin real, people. I have a very weak stomach!

So, the hubby, sensing that I was about to blow chunks, pushed the hairball chicken to the edge of the table and asked for the check. And when the waitress brought the check know...on that little plastic check tray that they use to present you the bill in a fancy-ish manner?

The flippin check had a DAMN HAIR ON IT! WTF???

You know what? I think I've totally determined what that STRANGE FLAVORED CHICKEN AND BEEF tastes like...

Aqua Net, dudes. Friggin Aqua Net....

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

No One Needs You More Than I

You know that song, "You're the Inspiration" by Chicago?

Well, I was walking by a vintage clothing store in downtown Newport, RI, when I suddenly found mine (inspiration, that is):

I know what you're thinking. What a delightfully whore-ish gown!

And you would be correct! But, no worries.

I'm p-r-e-t-t-y damn sure there's no way in hell I could ever even squeeze just one of my ass cheeks into this dress.

And that's a good thing. Because, let me tell you something. If I ever was that skinny, I would show off to the world! I would forgo all clothing! I would walk around barlicky bare ass just for shits and giggles!


Well.... at least until I got arrested.

Be grateful for cannoli, people.


Monday, August 3, 2009

Taking "No" For An Answer

On my way to work this morning, the hubby called me and asked me to stop at Dunkin Donuts to buy him a bottle of plain milk (to wash down his damn raspberry danish, but that's another story). So, I stopped at the DD near work and went inside to make his purchase because the drive thru line was just WAY too long.

When I got to the counter, the coffee wench asked me what I wanted and I said, "Just a plain milk, please." Did you get that? I said, JUST (as in ONLY) A PLAIN MILK, PLEASE. To which she responded, "Would you like a donut or a muffin with that?"

So, I spoke a little slower, "No thanks. Just a plain milk will do it." To which the obviously hearing impaired coffee wench responded, "Would you like a coffee or iced coffee with that?"

I am so far from being a morning person and oh my freaking word this bitch was really making me want to hurt her. Seriously, I wanted to stuff a French Cruller down her pie hole just to keep her from talking to me one more time. But, I kept the farce of composure going and replied, "Nope. Just the milk."

Her final response:

"That's unusual. Not many people start their day with milk." To which I answered, "The milk's for my husband. I start my mornings with tequila." *insert blank stare from coffee wench here*

Clearly, I can add her to the ever growing list of people who don't think I'm at all funny.