Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Best Lady Or Crazy Lady?

Twice a year, my friend Deb and I get together to celebrate our "pretend " birthdays. Basically, some years ago, we decided to pick days in the year (always the same days) that we would've liked to have been born on. My day is October 31st. Her day is February 28th.

When those days come, we meet for food and beverages and we give each other gifts. There are really no rules to our "pretend" birthday outings. We can choose to be any age that we want (we usually stick to the late 20's and early 30's) and we basically sit around talking about how freakin fabulous we are and how we have grown into such amazing overachievers. Hey, it's our game, so lump it.

Deb is the oldest friend that I have. We have a quirky relationship in that we "get" each other. When I have an "Alda" story (my Mama), she can relate and commiserate because low and behold, she usually has an "Anna" story. Yep, my friend has her very own Polish version of "Alda." Alda makes favas. Anna makes pierogis. And they're both spunky little blondes that want to be the bosses of us (I know...not grammatically correct lingo....but so what).

So, Deb's "pretend " birthday is on Saturday and next week sometime, we will pick a day and meet for her annual PARTAY.

This year, we have some very important stuff to discuss. Deb's getting hitched...SOON....And I'm going to be her BEST LADY. Her fiance says I'm going to be her Matron of Honor. Not so. And he better stop saying that. Or, this MATRON just might show up at the pending nuptials wearing assless chaps and a macrame bra (under a leather biker's vest, of course) just to prove how "unmatronly" I really am.

Hmmm...on second thought, I probably wouldn't really do it. But, only because Alda and Anna will both be there to kick my BEST LADY ass, if I do.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

About Hubby And Me

I saw this questionnaire on another site. I thought it would be fun to share my answers:

What are your middle names?
Paul Michael and Sally "no middle name because after eight kids, my Mom was too tired to think of one"

How long have you been together?
Hmmm....I was a child and he was a cradle robber! Our first date was March 12, 1986. We dated for six years and will be married 17 years in June. HOLY CRAP!

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
I didn't really know him. But, we talked on the phone a few times before our first date.

Who asked whom out?
Please! He asked me, of course.

How old are each of you?
Paul is 44. I am still clinging blissfully to 39.

Whose siblings do you see the most?
Mine....There's always something going on in that big Portuguese family of mine.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Nothing we can't handle by the grace of God.

Did you go to the same school?
Nope.

Are you from the same home town?
Yes sirree...That would be Fall River, Massachusetts....home to Emeril Lagasse and Lizzie Borden!

Who is smarter?
I think we are pretty equal, but our strengths are in very different areas. For example, he reads blueprints and is an expert in the metric system. He is also a math whiz. I am more of a writer/bullshitter/bookworm. So, I help him spell and he helps me add. It's a win-win situation.

Who is the most sensitive?
I have to say it's a tie. I can't watch a sad movie without dry heaving all over the place. He feels bad for everyone and would give away the deed to our house if I let him. We're even Steven.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Oh, Lord. If you know us at all, you know we are food whores. You name it, we've been there. It's our hobby, really.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?Lisbon, Portugal, to attend a wedding. We were tortured to high heaven.

Who has the craziest exes?
That would be HIM. Oh, yeah. And they look like beasts.

Who has the worst temper?
Hmmm...He once smash a calculator with his fist because it gave him the wrong answer....I'm going with HIM.

Who does the cooking?
Me...hubby would rather eat dirt than turn on the stove.

Who is the neat-freak?
Both of us. We are both anally retentive and EXTREMELY organized. Perhaps we were potty trained too early when we were children.

Who is more stubborn?
I'll say him. He'll say me. Trust me, it's him.

Who hogs the bed?
None of us. We have a BIG ASS bed....no need for hogging....

Who wakes up earlier?
Him. And he's a morning person (so NOT like me at all).

Where was your first date?
We went to Ponderosa Steak House...and to the movies. Giddy-up!!

Who is more jealous?
Neither one of us is very jealous, but if I have to pick, I would say him.

How long did it take to get serious?
Immediately, really. What the hell? His ex was a troll. I was a catch. Could you blame him??

Who eats more?
I think we're equal on this one.

Who does the laundry?
He is the king of the laundry. Yay!

Who's better with the computer?
Me for sure...but he holds his own.

Who drives when you are together?
Usually him....and that's fine with me except for the occasions when he emulates Mario Andretti and I'm praying to Jesus and holding on for dear life.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Back To Life, Back To Reality

I'm BAAACK!!

Today was my first day back at work since last Wednesday's flu onset. And look what was waiting for me when I got there:



Yep, this is an artist's rendition of what I must have looked like last week. Thank you so much to my UPS man (and friend), Steve, for such a lovely depiction. He's such a jewel.

By the way, if you ever want to keep people away from you when your sick because you need some peace and quiet, threaten to lick them. It works every time.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

No, You Can Not Be Buried In A Corvette

Am at work. Not coherent. Have the flu. Must go home to bed.

Will post again as soon as I am able to lift my head without blowing chunks.

Pray for me.

Monday, February 16, 2009

A Little Radiation Won't Kill Me

Things I Learned This Weekend:

* It is NEVER a good idea to flush an entire jar of baby gherkins down the toilet. I can not provide you with the details of how I know this. However, you would be wise to believe me. Pickles don't turn to mush when soaked in vinegar for 10 years and they won't turn to mush in your toilet pipes either (no matter how hard you pray to Jesus).

* I love Thai food....the spicier, the better. And every time I eat said Thai food, I indulge wholeheartedly, totally expecting that my 39 year old stomach will handle anything that I choose to ingest. I really need to stop fooling myself. While I will continue to eat and enjoy Thai food, I need to accept the following formula. You would be wise to heed it, too. Here it is:

Spicy Thai Food + Overindulgence = Morning Fire Ass

If you expect it, you won't be disappointed when it happens.

* When taking your Mother for an MRI on a freakin Sunday and she guilts you into going into the room with her during the radiation fest because "that other lady's daughter went in with her," and so now you have to prove that you are just as good a daughter as some strange, greasy chick who you see in the waiting room but don't know from jack, it is probably an opportune time to ask God to bless you with patience.

* Oh, and when you are signing a release form stating that you are not pregnant, don't have a pacemaker, and have no metal embedded in your body, so that you can SAFELY be in the FIELD OF RADIATION during the MRI that isn't yours, and you think about your sisters who are AT THAT MOMENT enjoying a lovely Valentine's weekend in Maine with their spouses while you are getting put through the radioactive ringer, it is probably normal to hope that they come home with nominal cases of uncontrollable diarrhea....just kidding (sort of).

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Exactly What I Think....

A Letter To My Neighbors:

Dear Pigs,

I don't care how educated you are, you are both clearly lacking social skills. It wouldn't kill you to raise your hands and wave to your neighbors as you pass them by, would it lunkheads? Oh, and FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, how about containing your garbage...You know...like in TRASH BAGS? We moved to a neighborhood with restrictions on purpose and we don't particularly enjoy picking up your shit. Does this look like a trailer park to you two morons? FYI, if you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar, you're screwed. I will, however, do my part for humanity by praying to God that he may heal you both of your incomplete personalities. Your welcome.




A Letter To The Ass That Ran Out In Front of My Car:

Dear "Mr. I Look Like A Lawyer But Am Really Just A Well Dressed Asshole,"

You ran out in front of my car AT NIGHT on a really busy street, in Providence, during rush hour.....and you were wearing ALL BLACK. OK...REALLY?? Do you have a death wish, jackass? Then you had the audacity to yell at me! Let me tell you something, buddy. In America, there are these thick parallel white lines painted in the streets. They're called CROSSWALKS. You might want to learn how to use them........lest you become the world's best dressed fashion roadkill. Oh, and perhaps a trip to a shrink might serve you well. You clearly have anger management issues......Your wife must be so proud.



A Letter To The Jerk of The Day:

Dear Salesman Who Hounded Me For A Donation At Work Today,

Don't give me that line of bullshit about how your organization helped to lower property taxes in the state of Rhode Island.......Because you know what, chump? Mine went up $680.00 this year. Nice try....you lying sack of pug poop.




AAHHH....I feel better now......

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Like Mother, Like Daughter

I am at work right now so I can't post a long winded blog (lucky you) because the hubby thinks I am actually working and who am I to burst his bubble? But, I wanted to show you all a present I got today from my friends Lou and Linda. They were on vacay last week and apparently, when they saw this magnet, they thought of me:



Do they know me or what?

Yeah, that's right. It's all about me.

That's funny....Come to think of it, my Mother thinks it's all about her.

Hmmm...I guess the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree....

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Skip The Chocolate, Give Me Cash

Today I asked my husband what he wanted to do on Valentine's Day. He made a face.

No, he's not anti-romance or anything. But, he tells anyone who will listen (including me) that Valentine's Day is for amateurs.

I suppose when you really analyze it, his conclusion is correct.

Think about it. How many of us know couples, married or not, who have been together so long that they take each other for granted? Oh sure, they did fun stuff when they were first dating but after they got into their comfort zones and cemented the deal, they stopped going the extra mile to make their relationship special. They never take the time to do thoughtful things for each other like buy a small surprise "just because" (like a card or some candy) or splurge on dinner at a nice restaurant for no special reason (McDonald's does not count). They never really have fun together anymore.

Then, Valentine's Day comes along and BAM! Every body's a hero. Every guy that never buys his wife flowers, comes home with overpriced roses and a box of crappy chocolates from CVS pharmacy.

That's just lame.

Hubby is right. Show your significant other that you love him or her year round. That one day a year thing is for ninnies.

PS If you are one of those ninnies, at least splurge for Godiva's, you cheap bastard.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

How You Feelin? Hot, Hot, Hot....

Yesterday, as we were driving to lunch, my Mother informed me that the world was going to hell.

I had no choice but to take the bait. I said, "Why, Ma? Why is the world going to hell?" "Because!" she said. "Because anything goes these days. Do you know that a new store opened up in the north end called Ha Spa? It's terrible! It's a store for tramps! Floozies! Women from Pier 14 (many years ago this used to be a place in town where the "working girls" used to do business)."

"How do you know that?" I asked. "Because, I saw the commercial for Ha Spa on the television! They sell clothes that barely cover the girls' boobies! And the skirts are TOOO short! And the shoes are too high!"

Well, alrighty then. According to the old lady, there's a new store in town which sells women's clothing in the form of band-aids, dental floss, and spiked heels.

Now I began to ponder...Ha Spa? What the hell is with the name, Ha Spa?

So, I questioned her again, "Ma, what is the name of the store, again?" Even more enraged, she yelled, "HA SPA!"

Now remember, my mama speaks mostly Portuguese. So, when she spews broken English, sometimes I need a few minutes to process what she's trying to say. Hmmm...I thought....Well, she's pretty ruffled over this "ha spa" thing. Let me ponder this for a moment. AND THEN IT CAME TO ME.

"Ma, Do you mean HOT SPOT?" "YESSSS, " she said, "HAAA SPAAA!" Then she turned to me and said, "What does that even mean? What is a HA SPA?"

Now, like in the world of art, the English language (and the term "Hot Spot".....duh) can be interpreted in many different ways. And there was no way in H-E-double hockey sticks that I was going THERE with my 77 year old Mother....NO FLIPPIN WAY. So, I looked at her and in my most convincing voice said, "It's a hot place...like Florida."

Then, I quickly changed the subject and told her that I liked her sweater...and where did she get it...and her hair looked nice... and what kind of perfume was she wearing.... and blah, blah, blah.....

Thank goodness she fell for my "bait and switch" conversation and THAT was the end of the dreaded boobie talk....for that day.....But, not forever, I'm sure.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

I Am Jessie's Girl

Since I told you about my scary Wayne Newton experience yesterday, I figured today, I might as well confess about one of my Rick Springfield encounters. There have actually been several. But, this one was captured in pictures.

Let me start at the beginning. When I was in 7th grade, I was in love with Rick Springfield. One day, my very good friend Cheryl (or so I thought) came to school and announced that she had won two tickets and backstage passes to see Rick in concert at the Providence Civic Center. Naturally, she was excited and I was ECSTATIC because I was positively certain that I would be the one by her side at that life changing venue!

I know, I know.....Cut me some slack, people. I was a twelve year old drama queen.

Before I could start jumping up and down and expressing my joy, Beastly Cheryl (yeah, that's what I call her now) told me that she was taking her neighbor, Chris, instead of me.

That was it. Not much of an explanation...no chance to plead my case...nothing. Oh my God! I was so upset! After that, I barely spoke to her again because keeping me from Rick Springfield, people.....That is a definite friendship breaker-upper, if you ask me.

Anyway, many years later, I found out that Rick Springfield was finally going on tour again (like after 23 years of hibernation)....and he was coming here! Whoo hoo! You know I HAD to go. So, I dragged my friend Cheryl (not evil 7Th grade Cheryl) and she graciously followed me around the venue with a camera. Now, remember. I may have been a little overexcited at this concert. But, in my defense, these pictures reflect 23 years of pent up frustration that has been festering inside of me since Evil Cheryl gave me the shaft in 7th grade:

Photo 1: I am fairly reserved (for me):



Photo 2: I'm getting a little bolder:




Photo 3: OK...I have officially lost my freakin mind:





FYI...Just in case someone decides to show my Mother these pictures, I am only "simulating" the buttocks touching motion. I am not copping a feel. I'm actually too reserved for that kind of behavior.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Wayne, Wayne, Go Away

After reading my last post, I know you are all just DYING to hear more about my Wayne Newton encounter. Here it is, dudes:

The hubby and I have some friends that we've been to Vegas with several times. Every time we booked a trip there, I would preplan our entire vacation (shows, meals, spa treatments, sightseeing) in advance because I am a control freak and like to be the boss of anyone who will let me be.

During one of our trips, I decided that it would be fun to go and see Wayne Newton because after all, they don't call him Mr. Vegas for nothing. Right? Ummm....after the fact, I'm thinking "Mr. Plastic Who Wears A Girdle" might be a more appropriate moniker.

Anyhoo, on the day we went to see Wayne, I had to pick up the tickets at the theater box office. As I approached the window, a woman named Laverne was sitting there looking as if she was stuck in a cheesy casino time warp. She looked up at me and said, "Can I help ya, honey?" So I, in my best southern drawl said, "I sure hope so ma'am. I'm here to pick up my Wayne Newton tickets and I am such a HUGE fan (total crock of shit). I sure would appreciate it if you could get us some seats up close to the stage."

Of course, as I was speaking to her, I handed her a twenty dollar bill. Well, Laverne was so thrilled with my bribe, she gave us four tickets to the VIP section of Wayne's show. Whoo hoo!! This was going to be fun!!

Of course, the hubby and our friends did not share my sentiment. Actually, they couldn't believe that we were "wasting" a night in Vegas to see Grandpa Wayne. They were also quick to point out that everyone else at the show looked like they were whooping it up at a Fixodent convention.

As we made our way to the VIP seats, I started to panic. Holy crap!! Laverne gave us seats right in the front row....I mean, we could literally look up Wayne's nose (ick) from where we were seated....AND we noticed that as we walked to the front of the theater, the Geritol Posse seemed to be scowling at us because they were jealous of our seats. Like it or not, we knew that we had better pretend that Wayne Newton was the best thing since the invention of Ben Gay or risk being beaten with walkers and canes after the show.

Hmmm...Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

About twenty minutes after we sat down, the lights finally dimmed. Suddenly, from the left side of the stage, this jet black helmet haired vampire man came charging toward us. He was so freaky looking that he actually scared me! I remember thinking, "Oh my God! What the hell happened to him?"

Just when I thought it couldn't get any more bizarre, it did. Wayne, clearly under the impression that we VIPs paid lots of money to sit in his "special" section (SOOOO not true), decided to focus all of his attention on us. He was all singing with his raspy dried up voice and gyrating with that nasty girdled torso RIGHT IN OUR FACES. I wanted to scream, "My eyes! My eyes! Make it stop! Please God, make it stop!" OK, OK, I'm being a bit dramatic here but, really...He was SCARYYYYY.

Anyway, as the creepy show progressed, I told the hubby that he HAD to take a picture of me near the stage. I had to capture the moment because I would NEVER torture myself, the hubby, and our friends like this again. So, I turned my back to the stage and this is the picture he took. Notice Wayne in the background:




Apparently, seeing a woman under the age of eighty in the front row got Wayne a little excited because the next thing I knew he ran up, grabbed me from behind, and PLANTED A BIG WET ONE right on my cheek. TRIPLE FREAKIN GROSS!



Chalk it up to another traumatic life experience that I'll probably need therapy for in the future.........

Sunday, February 1, 2009

What You Don't Know About Me

1. When I was a little girl, I had lots of rag dolls (cheap) but only had one Barbie doll. My sister cut all of her hair off and convinced me that it would grow back. I'm still waiting. Until that happens, I guess I am still the sole owner of the original "Billy Idol Barbie".

2. The only things I wont eat are veal and coconut.

3. Wayne Newton kissed me. Yes, I mean the real Wayne Newton. He was creepy...and I swear he smelled like preservatives.

4. The oldest friend I have has been in my life since I was four. Once, when we were in kindergarten, she told the teacher on me and I had to stand in the corner. She is lucky I am a forgiving person.

5. I was named after some chick who sang on the Lawrence Welk Show. Thank God Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, and Flipper weren't contenders in that name game.

6. I talk to myself.

7. My favorite color is red. Red gets a bad rap because it is the sluttiest color of the rainbow.

8. Once, I did something in Vegas that I'm glad stayed in Vegas. It involved alcohol, a REALLY expensive meal, and someone else's husband. No, PERV, it's not what your thinking. But, I plead the fifth...and FYI....the hubby knows.

9. Sometimes, when I am watching someone on television that I don't agree with, I heckle them and flip them off. I KNOW THEY CAN'T SEE ME OR HEAR ME but somehow it makes me feel better. George W. has gotten it more times than I care to admit.

10. I have eleven telephones in my house. And, yes, they are all connected. I need to be readily available in case Wayne Newton calls. Just kidding....