Tuesday, June 30, 2009

And The Winner Is:

I know, I know.

You've all been waiting with baited breath for the AWESOMELY EXCITING RESULTS of my first ever blog give-a-way! Right?

(If not, please just humor me and pretend, kay?)

Well, wait no more! The results are in!

The winners are:

Prize 1: Weight Watchers Cookbook: Erin

Prize 2: Personalized Bamboo Cutting Board: Jenn (from Seattle)

Prize 3: Personalized Rabbit Wine Opener: Rapunzel

To the lucky winners: So that I may get your goodies to you ASAP, please e-mail me with your ship to information. And, if you are the winner of a personalized item, be sure to let me know what you want your item to say.

I'd like to give special thanks to all who participated in the give-a-way! And remember, you're all winners to me!

Thanks for reading!

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Shady Pines Or Bust!

I love my mother....I love my mother....I love my mother....

I have to keep reminding myself of that.

Because, when I picked her up yesterday, she got into my car and handed me a bag.

And then she said, "I bought you this blouse last week when I went shopping with your sister."

I responded, "Oh, thank you! That was so nice!"

She retorted, "Well, I actually bought it for me. But, it's toooo big! The tag says it's a MEDIUM but it must be a LARGE because it's tooooo big for me. But, it will fit you because your ass is bigger than mine....way bigger than mine. So, it should fit you because of your BIGGER ass..."

I interrupted, "MA, ALRIGHT! I get it! Enough already about my ass!"

But, my 78-year-old madre ALWAYS has to get the last word in, so she whispered under her breath, "It's not my fault it's bigger than mine..."

And being that I am going to be just like her when I grow up, I couldn't let her get the last word in. So, I responded, "and it's not my fault that nursing homes are full of fresh little old ladies." And I gave her a big, toothy grin.

She stuck her tongue out at me.

I love my mother...I love my mother....I love my mother.....

Friday, June 26, 2009

Anybody Seen My Lost Shaker Of Salt?

Happy Friday, my friends! Today's post will be very short. Why, you ask? Simple. Last night (very last minute), my hubby surprised me with these: So today, after last nights very AWESOME concert, the following equation describes my writing and thinking abilities: Sally + Jimmy Buffet + Land Shark Beer + not enough sleep = JUNK.

In a nutshell (or should I say coconut shell?), that is totally how I feel today. So, instead of my usual ridiculous banter (God, I need a nap), I'll leave you with some pictures from last night's Parrot Fest.

Here I am with my friend, Jen: And with the hubby (nice leis, huh?): With my friends at the LANDSHARK Lager counter (where the trouble ALWAYS begins): The King of Margaritaville: Jimmy Buffet's tribute to the Beatles' Yellow Submarine : The hubby...a definite "Parrot Head" in the making: And, for your ULTIMATE viewing pleasure, some VERY amateur video....featuring ME....as a big DORK:


Have a great weekend everybody!! And remember...

It's five o'clock somewhere.---Alan Jackson...with Jimmy Buffet

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Workin' The Pole

Alright, alright, you uptight m&m people!

In response to yesterday's post, my friend Suzanne sent me this picture:



What the hell?

You're all in my face because I use language that you consider too vulgar to print on your "innocent" little candies. Yet, it's OK for Ms. Green to be bumping and grinding a tree trunk like a two dollar hooker?

Puh-leeze.

He, he, he, he...*insert evil laugh here*

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Bite Me....Squared

I got an e-mail from the m&m people.

Apparently, they think I am vulgar. Too bad I don't give a rat's hairy ass.

It all started when I ordered some personalized m&m's online as a birthday present for my friend, Lou.

The website's directions stated that I had to pick the candy's color, upload Lou's picture, and choose three messages that would be printed on the back of the candies.

So, I submitted my order requesting that these messages be printed opposite Lou's face on my baby blue customized m&m's:

Message 1: Bite Me (because it's funny)

Message 2: Eat Me (inspired by the Sex and The City episode where a man dressed like a sandwich pisses Miranda off by saying "eat me" every time she walks by)

And finally,

Message 3: Freakin Old (because it amuses me to poke fun at people who are older than I am)

I was totally excited with my custom birthday find.

That is, until I got an e-mail from the m&m police telling me that my order was being cancelled because of the vulgar content that my messages contained.

Pissed off to high heaven, I called the contact number in the reprimanding e-mail and spoke to a representative. He told me that I could not put the word "freakin" on an m&m because the word FREAKIN is a connotation of the F-word.

Then he told me that "eat me" and "bite me" were also inappropriate messages and he would not allow them to be printed on my G-rated candies, either.

WTF?

"Fine, " I said. "Whatever! It's a birthday present. Why don't you just print whatever you think is acceptable according to Emily Freakin Post, and get them to me as soon as possible."

Geez.

I've been censored by the company whose slogan:
Melts in your mouth, not in your hands---could totally be misinterpreted by any number of pervy oink-ers.
Seriously.

Anyway, this is what they sent me:

Front View:


Back View:

Not too bad...But in the words of Frank Sinatra, they totally would have been better MY WAY.


Any-who, because this is my FREAKIN blog (Did you get that m&m people? I said FREAKIN!!) and I can say whatever the HELL I want to say here, I would like to conclude this post by thanking the Candy Coated Police for raining on my DAMN parade! And for squashing Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that is supposed to protect my freedom of speech.

Stupid, unoriginal bastards.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Unless You're George Clooney, Step Away From The Speedo

Hubby and I are buying a commercial property in which to move our business. We were supposed to sign all of the paperwork and take possession of our new space next week, on June 30Th. However, because of a legal glitch, we now have to wait a couple of weeks longer.

Today, I called my lawyer to ask him some questions about our closing and the following COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE conversation (on my part) ensued:

Me: Hi John (name changed to protect my ass). How are you?

Lawyer: I'm fine, Sally. What's up?

Me: I just wanted to know if you've rescheduled our closing date. Paul and I are anxious to begin renovations at our new place. We'd like to move as soon as possible.

Lawyer: Well, I'm leaving for my vacation this Friday. So, I'm hoping we'll close the second week in July.

Me: OK. That's fine. I just wanted an idea of where we stand......So, I know it's none of my business. But, where are you going on vacation?

Lawyer: Myrtle Beach.

Me: Oh, that's nice! Well, I hope the weather will be nice for you.....and I hope you'll be wearing an appropriate bathing suit on the beach because there is nothing worse than a man walking around in a nasty suit that accentuates his privates. Ick.

(Oh.Yes.I.Did.)

John: *chuckle, chuckle* You can rest assured. I won't be wearing one of those.

Me: On behalf of women everywhere, I THANK YOU.

John: I'll call you when I get back.

Me: Alrighty, then. Bye!

Upon hanging up the phone, I realized that I complain an awful lot about my Mother not having a mouth filter.

And yet, I just told my lawyer, THE MAN I PAY FOR LEGAL COUNCIL, not to showcase his nads in a banana hammock.

Damn. The apple sure doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?

Monday, June 22, 2009

They "Do"

The Scene: Debbie and Marc's Wedding
The Time: Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Place: Fall River, MA
Best Supporting Actress: Me, as "The Best Lady"



Here's the rundown:

Friday night, I had trouble sleeping. I was thinking about my dress and praying that it would fit because like EVERY woman who has an important date on the horizon, I had vowed to lose weight before the big day so that I could look buff. Yeah, right.

On Saturday morning, I, who would rather eat dirt than get up at the ass crack of dawn, got up really freakin early (did I mention I'm not a morning person?) to bathe, primp, and mold my big hair into a somewhat manageable state.

After applying my make-up and nailing down the hairdo, I put on my brand spankin new torpedo holders (a.k.a. very stiff underwire bra for large-ish jugs, like mine) followed by the body sausage that I've been bitching about for my last two posts:




After shimmying into the casing, I slowly stepped into the dress, pulled it up and sucked in as much air as humanly possible (David Blaine's got nothing on me) so that my husband could zip me up. Thankfully, the dress fit. But, let me just say that the top of the dress was TIGHTER than clenched butt cheeks after spicy Thai food! Seriously.

Any-who, after learning how to take short shallow breaths so I wouldn't hyperventilate or blow a hole in the side of my dress, the hubby and I went to pick up my Mom (the 78 year-old Portuguese Sophia Petrillo). Then, we picked up the bride and made our way to the ceremony.

The ceremony...in the midst of the I-do's:



The Wedding Party (L to R, Best Lady, Best Man, Bride, and Groom):



Sally and Deb (BTW, Friends since we were four, we're both turning forty this summer...AAAHHHH!!!):




Paul (the hubby) and my Mom....Nice tie, buddy! Hope it's not too confining! Hehehehehe:





And finally, Mom and me:



Funny story about my Mom...Because she tends to say whatever the hell she feels like saying at inopportune moments, I gave her a warning and told her to keep any comments that might cause someone to whip a teacup at her head to herself. She pretty much heeded the warning. But at one point, a friend of mine asked her if she was having a good time. Her response, "Mmmmm...Yeah (unconvincingly).....But I like to go shopping on Saturdays." Translation: I'd rather be at Macy's.

Then she looked at me and smiled.

For this week at least, she's escaped the wrath of Shady Pines.

Epilogue: After the wedding reception, the bride and groom, truly happy and in love, rode off into the sunset where they lived happily ever after.....Until seventeen years later when the groom, despite eating like a beast, still weighed the same as he did on his wedding day and the bride, having gained at least twenty-five pounds, wanted to bust his face.

Oh, wait. That's my story.

The End.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Are You Sure?

It's Friday night and I should not be blogging.

I REALLY should be getting my dress/jewelry/general stuff in order for my big day as "Best Lady" at the wedding tomorrow.

But instead, I just got off the phone with the bride.

I called her and offered to drive her to Mexico before it's "too late."

As I write this, she's probably on the phone, frantically searching for my replacement.

If she finds one, I'll let her have my body sausage....and the loss of mobility that'll come with it.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

A Tight Fit (REALLY TIGHT)

This Saturday, I am going to be the "Best Lady" in my friend, Debbie's wedding.

The last time I was an attendant in a wedding, I was nineteen.

My body has changed a lot since then...and NOT for the better.

When I was nineteen, I wore a size 8.

My "girls" used to hang out comfortably in the northern hemisphere.

And, back then, I thought cellulite was an urban myth.

Now that I'm thirty-nine, I'm pretty sure it would take a loaded handgun to the skull to get me to publicly divulge my size.

As for my "girls?" Well, damn it! They are heading south like senior citizens to Miami.

And the cellulite myth? All I have to say about that is why the hell didn't anybody warn me? Seriously! Dimples on a babies butt? CUTE. Dimples on my butt? Get me a barf bag.

You're probably wondering what triggered this body image rant?

It actually stemmed from a conversation that I had with my husband about Saturday's wedding. It went like this:

Hubby: Do I have to wear a tie to the wedding?

Me: Yes, you have to wear a tie to the wedding.

Hubby: UHHH!!!(pouting sound) Why?

Me: Because it looks nice.

Hubby: I hate wearing ties. They're too confining.

Me: Oh, really! *insert crazed look here* Too confining, huh? Well, in order for me to look NICE at the wedding, I'm wearing a DAMN BODY SAUSAGE under my dress. You wanna trade????

Hubby: (put off by crazed look in my eyes) I'll wear a tie.

Me: Thank you.

Hubby: Your welcome.

Moral of the Story: Never mess with a woman wearing a sausage casing. The lack of oxygen to her lungs will make her vicious.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Skinny Jerk With No Soul

They say that necessity is the mother of invention.

I disagree.

My argument?

Chocolate covered cheesecake on a stick:



Seriously. What evil bastard thought this would be a positive contribution to society?


*Don't forget to enter my blog give away!! All you have to do is click here, read the post, and leave a comment!!

Monday, June 15, 2009

Blog Give Away!!! Whoo Hoo!!!

Happy Monday everyone! Please do not respond, "Bite me." I know it's Monday and the workweek stress has begun. But, I am trying to start the week on a positive note, kay?

I am very excited to start my post with a blogging award that I received from my pal and fellow blogger, H.K..

Thank you, H.K.! If you haven't read her blog before, you must! She's a Mom, a wife, and a writer. And, she's NICE...just like me :) Stop laughing.

Isn't it perty?


And because I am a drama queen and a ham, here I am accepting my award:



I know, I know. I could potentially benefit from some psychological assistance. Heard it before. Moving on...

Any-who, it is so rewarding to be acknowledged.....And even though I am perfectly happy talking to myself (most times), it is nice to know that when I am blogging, people out there are relating what I have to say. It's humbling to me that my blog entries inspire people to ask themselves those great philosophical questions like, "How did my ass get this big?"

So, to thank my readers (all three of you), as well as my fellow bloggers, I am hosting my first ever BLOG GIVE-AWAY! OH MY GOD! THE EXCITEMENT IS JUST TOO MUCH! Call your friends, call your family, call anyone who likes free stuff!! And here are the three prizes (yep, all three) that are up for grabs:

Prize 1: a brand new copy of this fantastic WW cookbook (BTW, I have one and I LOVE it):



Prize 2: a bamboo cutting board (11.5" x 13.5" x .75"), *personalized with your name, weight, and/or bra size (I'm kidding...Just wanted to see if you were still paying attention):




Prize 3: a Rabbit Wine Opener ($40.00 Value), *for your drinking pleasure, also personalized




Now, to enter this give-away, here's what you have to do:

* If you have a blog (or are on Facebook or Twitter), share the fun by mentioning this give-away there.

* Also, you all know that I am a foodie and I struggle with my weight and food choices sometimes. Duh. Really? If you can relate, I want you to leave me a comment (or e-mail) answering this question: What is the CRAZIEST thing you have ever eaten in a fit of hunger (quality or quantity)?

Was it an eclair that you dug out of the trash like George Costanza? Or, a piece of chocolate cake that was lying right on top of the crap in your kitchen garbage pail, like Miranda Hobbes? Or, did you just grab an extra pork chop out of the serving dish and shovel it down before your husband came back from the bathroom (so he wouldn't see), like my sister (my birthday's coming...not mentioning her name)?

The winners will be chosen on June 30th at random (names in a hat) from the list of commenters. So, get thinking....and spill those beans!!!

Oh, and one more thing. I'd like to pass my award on to five fellow bloggers who I truly admire. They are funny, poignant, real, relatable, and just plain awesome. Be sure to check them out:

1. Fat Bridesmaid
2. Bitch Cakes
3. Jason. For The Love of God
4. Questions For Dessert
5. Happy Fun Pants

Thanks for playing!

Friday, June 12, 2009

What's In A Name?

Yesterday, hubby and I drove by this restaurant:



And, because I am a complete wackjob, I got to thinking....

Assuming that the chef/owner of said restaurant is a married man, I wonder if his wife likes being Mrs. Ho.

I'm picturing her angst, as she's sitting in the waiting room at the gynecologist's office. She, like most women, is sitting there dreading the annual fondling of the funbags and hoo ha probe, when suddenly, it's her turn to be called into the exam room. The physician's assistant peeks her head into the waiting room and calls out, "Mrs. Ho....Mrs. Ho!" And all of the women sitting in the waiting room silently snicker, exchange glances, and give thanks that they married a Jones, a Smith, or a Costa (like me).

Poor Mrs. Ho....

Well, actually, her situation could always be worse.

I know a woman who married a Boner....

Seriously.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Just Say No To Carbs!

This week, for the first time in my life, I engaged in a threesome.

OK. Now that I have your attention, get your pervy minds out of the gutter. That's NOT what I'm talking about.

What I am referring to is an Italian food fest that I went to with my husband and our friend, Lou (his wife, Linda, was home sick).

The food fest was called The Federal Hill Stroll and it took place in a very prominent Italian neighborhood in Providence, RI. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Federal Hill and its restaurants, let me just say that the food there can be classified in two ways: (A) a carb lover's HEAVEN on earth, and (B) a weight watcher's HELL on wheels.

And let me just begin by telling you that collectively, the damage Paul, Lou, and I did? Well, lets just say it was not pretty.

Basically, we began our Italian food gorgerama by donning these buttons:


For a nominal fee, a button like this got you two beverages of your choice and all the food you could ingest in three hours. That's A LOT of food, people.

After donning our licenses to eat like beasts (buttons), we grabbed our maps:


And we basically went to EVERY restaurant taking part in the stroll to sample their yummy garlic laden wares.

We drank wine and sangria. We ate penne with pink vodka sauce, eggplant lasagna, chicken piccata, pasta bolognese, penne with pesto sauce, barbecue ribs, flavorful rice dishes, and pasta marinara.

I KNOW! We totally deserved to be flogged by the weight watcher police!

And, if that wasn't gluttonous enough, we ended our stroll here:



...where we drank iced cappuccinos and ate the BEST DAMN CANNOLIS ON EARTH (yeah, that's me drooling on the pastry case...I was high on carbs and can not be held accountable)!

And after getting all jacked up on wine, pasta, and sugar, this is what was left of Paul and Lou:




And for the grand finale:



I told you it wasn't going to be pretty....














Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Julio Iglesias: The Original "Sock Commando"

This is story about my husband, Paul:



Like most of us, he is a creature of habit.

Last week, he agreed to buy and wear a pair of shoes that can not be worn with socks, lest he look like a big doofus. This was a BIG deal, people. Because, in all of the years that I've known him, he has NEVER gone "sock commando."

Never, ever.

On Sunday, Paul wore his brandy new loafers (sans socks) a la Miami Vice, to a birthday party at my sister's house.

And my Mom was there.

In case you are unfamiliar with Momma Alda, she's a very fashionable Portuguese version of Sophia Petrillo (from the Golden Girls). She only wears high heels. She always dresses like she's in a friggin fashion show. Her make-up and hair are always perfect. Oh, and most importantly, she completely lacks a mouth filter.

Any-who, while at the birthday party on Sunday, Paul was eating his cake and chatting with my Mom when she suddenly noticed his shoes:



Knowing that he never, ever wears shoes without socks, she exclaimed, "Paul! You have-a new shoes (insert Portuguese accent here)!

Then, she proudly announced, "I like-a your shoes! You look jzust like Jooolio Iglesias!"




The hubby looked at her and then at me and whispered, "Is that good?"

I responded, "Um...I guess so. In the 78 year old woman's realm of reality, I think that means your HOT."

"Oh, that's GREAT," he retorted.

I think he was traumatized.

Because on Monday morning, he was wondering around the house getting ready for work wearing his CROCS.....with socks.

Hmmm...sounds like a good title for a Dr. Seuss book, doesn't it?

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

What Was She Thinking?

As a normal red blooded woman (yes, I said NORMAL...stop snickering), I must admit that the admiration that I occasionally receive from some men (not the creepy ones) can indeed be quite flattering and very good for the ego.

However, I have posted in the past that the older I get (turning 40 in July....AAAAHHH), the more I seem to attract trolls, hobbits, toothless fellows, and junkyard dogs. Yay, me.

For this reason, I would NEVER drive around in this car:



Yeah. You read it right. The license plate says, JUICY.

Can't you just hear the dirty bastards making vulgar sucking noises at this woman as she waits for the traffic light to turn green?

Seriously. If experience has taught me one thing, it's that PERVS never need encouragement.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Frig The 5 Second Rule

This morning, I was really thinking about having toast for breakfast.

Upon further consideration (finding that my bread was growing furry, blue velvet), I chose to feast on two turkey sausages, two eggs whites, and a cup of decaf green tea, instead.

Because I am a multitasker, I decided to take my prepared breakfast upstairs (where my computer is), so that I could eat while checking my emails.

As I rushed up the stairs, one of the sausages rolled off of my plate and onto the hardwood step.

At that moment, I had a decision to make. So I pondered aloud, "Sally, you have no pets and no children. Therefore, it is probable that no one or nothing has puked, pissed, or pooped on the exact spot where that sausage lies."

And so, I did what any other hungry girl would do. I picked the sausage up, put it back on my plate, and made my way to my desk where I gobbled it up.

OH.YES.I.DID.

And it was yummy.

But just so you know, I did wipe up the sausage residue that was on my stair.....with my sock.

Sometimes, I am just so damn fancy.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

This Kind Of Certainty Comes But Once In A Lifetime---Robert Kincaid, The Bridges of Madison County

As you are probably aware, yesterday was my anniversary. Hubby and I have been married for 17 years. We dated for six years before getting married. So technically, we have been together for more than half of my life.

I like to joke with people about being married for so long. Sometimes I'll say, "Gee, if I would have killed him in the beginning, I'd be out of jail by now!"

But the reality is that I am lucky to have him.

What makes him so special? Well, the short list goes as follows:

* He is very kind and generous. I will always love that about him, even though I worry that someday he'll give away the deed to our house and I will have to live in a tent under a bridge.

* He loves my Mother. And on the days that I contemplate driving her over to Shady Pines, he won't let me.

* He works really hard but always makes time to help everybody else. Seriously. You need him to help you move? Fix your toilet? Build you a shed? Drop me a line. I'll let him know.

* He can fix ANYTHING.

* He will never say that something I cooked SUCKS....even when it tastes like ass.

* We act and think alike (scary). For example, today as we were taking a left at a stoplight and an ignorant masshole (asshole from Massachusetts) cut us off, we both flipped him the bird at the exact same time. That's called synchronization, people.


Honestly, I could go on and on. But, I'll save it for another day.

I will, however, leave you with a quick story.

My husband had an aunt, Mary, who was at our wedding back in 1992. I always had a soft spot for Mary and once every summer, I would take her out for lunch and for ice cream. She would always tell me the same stories about her kids and grand kids and I would listen intently because it was clear that she was thrilled to have a captive audience.

Every year, sometime during the week of our anniversary, Paul and I would receive an anniversary card from Mary. They always made me smile because it was just so nice to be remembered.

On Christmas Eve, Mary died at the age of 80.....and we were so very sad.

This Friday, as we were pulling up to our driveway after work, Paul stopped at the mailbox to retrieve the day's mail. He opened the box, grabbed the pile, and handed it to me in the passengers seat. Like I do everyday as he drives into the garage, I flipped through the junk mail, letters, and bills.

And then I came across a card. I recognized the handwriting immediately, let out a gasp, and said, "Oh my God."

Hubby asked, "What's the matter?"

My response, "Oh my God. It's a card from Mary."

And it was:





When I got into the house, I was so freaked out, that I called Paul's Mom to tell her about Mary's card. She told me that Mary's husband, Al, was mailing out the cards for Mary according to the dates she had written on her calendar (she'd signed and addressed the card the week before she died).

She also told me that Al is so, so sad.

And every time she speaks with him, he tells her that when he goes to bed at night, the only thing he prays for is that he will die in his sleep so he can be with Mary.

If you ask me, that is what you call true love.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Equality? My Ass....

My husband is a lucky man. No, not because he is married to me (although he should give thanks to Jesus EVERYDAY for this), but because he has the best metabolism EVER.

This Saturday is our seventeenth wedding anniversary.

In seventeen years, I have managed to gain twenty-five pounds.

In seventeen years, he has managed to gain zero pounds.

Some days, I am happy for him.

Most other days, like today, I want to pinch his nose closed and force feed him Twinkies until he loses consciousness.

Why am I feeling this way TODAY, you ask?

Observe what we BOTH had for dinner:

First, we ordered drinks (red Sangria) and bread with dipping oil (trust me, it gets way worse):






Then came the official first course which was fresh mozzarella, sandwiched between two pieces of Italian bread, dipped in egg wash, then fried and topped with marinara sauce:



To wash down the fried cheese, we had pasta with bolognese sauce:



Finally, we ended our meal with some UNBELIEVABLE cannolis (one each):



Now, I'll admit. Hubby and I ate the exact same things for dinner. The difference between us, however, is that when we got home, I dragged my sorry ass over to the treadmill because I felt GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY.

And the husband? Well, clearly, he did not feel guilty at all:



And the injustice of it all is that tomorrow, my husband will be the same weight that he is today......

And me? Despite my efforts, my thighs will rub together a little more than they do right now......potentially causing my pants to light on fire.

I don't know who coined the term, "Life isn't fair." But, I'm thinking it was definitely a woman.