Thursday, January 28, 2010

So Long, Sleeze Ball!


Today, I had a whole post planned revolving around my beloved crockpot. Because, dudes? I am in love with it.

But, shortly after getting my arse out of bed, I saw the news.

And then? I read the news.

And I was all like, Praise the Lord! It's like Christmas all over again! And, I must share my joy with my internet peeps!

Right about now, you're probably thinking, "What in the friggin hell is this chick so damn excited about?"

And I AM FUGGING HAPPY TO SHARE THE NEWS! Ready?

It's finally happened!

Elizabeth Edwards has filed for legal separation from her rat-bastard, scum sucking dog of a husband---citing that she just can't take him and his lyin' cheatin' ways anymore!

Can I get a hallelujah, brothers and sisters?

OK. How did I suddenly turn into an evangelist?

Yeah. Apparently, all of this crap between him and the skanky whore who is the mother of his illegitimate child, is too much for Elizabeth to bare. She is DONE with him....You know...because she has other, more pressing things to deal with like raising two young children WHILE battling STAGE FOUR CANCER and shit.

I am so frigging happy.

Because, you know what?

I don't think it's EVER too late to take back your dignity! And even though Elizabeth is sick, and even though she has suffered through the awful humiliation associated with being married to a douche nugget like John Edwards, she has and always will have more class in her baby toe than that two dollar ho---Yeah, I'm talkin to you, Illegitimate Baby Momma---has in her whole skanky body.

Oh, yeah. And one more thing...

When all of this info about the Edwards' separation became public, John Edwards made it a point to STRESS to the media that when he had the infamous affair with Douchenaya (another name for Illegitimate Baby Mama), his wife's CANCER WAS IN REMISSION!

Yeah, cuz THAT makes sticking your DINGUS where it doesn't belong SO MUCH MORE ACCEPTABLE, a**hole!

What a freakin pig!

Seriously.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Why My Glass Is Always Half Full...

Today's blog post will be short because I am at work and things here are CUH-RAZY busy. Right this moment, Hubby is at the opposite end of the building dealing with an anally retentive mechanical engineer. I could not take listening to him (the engineer, not the Hubby) for one more second so I walked away stating that I had some very important phone calls to make.

So here I am, with you, my bloggy peeps.

FYI? I love you man.

Anywho, I've got two things to tell you. The first is that I just got back from my Weight Watcher's weigh in. And? I lost .4 pounds. What the hell is .4? I've taken dumps bigger than that! Geez!

I know, I know.

I'm c-l-a-s-s-y, huh?

Oh, well. I can't be perfect every week. And a loss is a loss...even if it is a sucky loss. I'll do better next week. I swear to George Clooney, I will.

The second thing I wanted to share with you is, you know how yesterday I told you all about my Mom and her lack of mouth filter? Yeah, well something you don't know about her is that she weighs 128 pounds...and she has given birth to nine...COUNT EM'...NINE children.

I swear to crap, she is a little, little woman with a GINORMOUS personality.

Anyway, last night when I was on the phone with her, I was complaining about struggling with my weight and I told her I wished I had gotten my metabolism from her.

She responded, *insert Portuguese accent here* "No. You getta
yo-wa fulla fig-ya from your father's side of the family. But, dat's OK. Like a lot a doze ASS-OLES
, at least you not a DRUNK."

And her sweet streak continues....

Monday, January 25, 2010

My Cross To Bare

I am getting antsy.

On Wednesday morning, I have to take my Mom to the doctor for her bi-annual checkup.

You're probably wondering what the big deal is...why just the thought of bringing her to see the good ole' doc makes me shit in my pants (figuratively).

Well, it's like this.

See...my Mama is (A) the seventy-eight year old--Portuguese version--of a VERY STYLISH (she wears high heels everyday, people) Sophia Petrillo, (B) Has no mouth filter, and (C) Did I mention that she HAS NO FRICKIN MOUTH FILTER?

Yeah, let me give you an example.

Once, during a checkup, my Mama's doctor showed his disappointment in her because she had gained four pounds since her last visit. He looked over her paperwork, shook his head disapprovingly at her and said in his thick Egyptian accent, "Alda! You hhhhave gained four pounds! What is the meaning of this? I want you to explain everyone of those four pounds to me!"

So, my Mom looked at him and said in her sweetest (NOT) little Portuguese accent, "OK. ONE is my coat. TWO is my shoes. THREE is my clothes. And FOE-A is the donut I eat be-foe-wa I come to see you today. Deeeliscious!"

Oh.Yes.She.Did.

But WAIT. There's more!

Dudes, sit the hell down. You are not even going to believe what she said next.

She sat up all straight and regal and crap...like she was the Queen of Shitting Haagen Dazs, looked the Doc square in the eyes and said, "AND ANYWAYS! Why you getta mad at me fa foe-a pounds WHEN DA GIRLS DAT WORK FA YOU ARE SOOOOOOOO FAT? You splain dis to me?"

Oh my frickin hell. I wanted to crawl under my chair.

That's when the Doc looked at her and responded sternly, "ALDA! That is not the point! THEY are not my patients! You are!"

NEVER letting a sleeping dog lie, she responded, "I no cay-a! Da fat ladies in da doctor's office make a very BAD EXAMPLE fa da patients! Don't complain to me about foe-a pounds when your secretaries needa lose a hundra pounds!"

Yeah. She said A HUNDRA (they could really stand to lose like fifty pounds at the most, but whatever).

Thankfully, the Doc had a sense of humor and didn't throw her ass (and my ass---by association) out into the street. Instead, he looked at her, turned to me, and said, "I like your mother! She is TOUGH. But, she is CUTE."

Oh,yeah. She's freakin wicked cute, alright.

Sort of in the same ways that Rottweilers and Pitbulls are cute....

Pray for me. Seriously.

Friday, January 22, 2010

I Heart Skype. Seriously.

The following Skype conversation took place yesterday between me and my friend--Heather, while we were at work (she works in the building next door to mine). We have these kinds of random conversations all of the time. They get us through those stressful workdays when we want to punch people and shit. You know what I'm talkin' about....

[11:56:27 AM] Sally: Hey!

[11:56:50 AM] Sally: HEY!!!!!

[11:57:08 AM] Sally: HEATHAAAAAAA????????!!!!!!

[12:08:09 PM] Heather: Yes?

[12:08:35 PM] Sally: Where you been, Whore? Hahaha. I make myself laugh.

[12:11:08 PM] Heather: Working....You make me laugh, too. What have you done, now?

[12:11:36 PM] Sally: Nothing. But I have two things to tell you.

[12:12:28 PM] Sally: One is, I made beef stew. Paul Costa (the Hubby) and I had some for lunch and I have one bowl left. If you want it, come for lunch and I can heat it up for you. YUMMY!

[12:17:58 PM] Heather: Mmmm. Yes. Please and thank you!

[12:12:36 PM] Sally: The other is? I almost punched Paul Costa in the head when he said, "I think this stew would be much better if it was made with filet mignon." Duh! Mr. Fancy Pants! I used stew meat! That's why it's called beef stew! PUNCH, PUNCH, PUNCH.

[12:19:35 PM] Heather: Typical man.

[12:19:46 PM] Sally: STAB, STAB, STAB. I only have plastic knives here. He's lucky.

[12:20:22 PM] Heather: You DO have fists.

[12:20:46 PM] Sally: True dat!

[12:21:06 PM] Sally: And sneakers...KICK, KICK, KICK.

[12:23:24 PM] Heather: I bet a letter opener would do the trick. STAB, STAB, STAB.

[12:24:12 PM] Sally: Damn. I don't have one. But, I do have TWO VERY HIGH POWERED LASERS! BURN, BURN, BURN!

[12:25:05 PM] Sally: We need medication. We are way too violent.

[12:27:47 PM] Heather: Want a Xanax?

[12:28:48 PM] Sally: No. I'm high on life. Can't you tell?


***Blog Addendum: For those of you who do not already know this, the Hubby and I work together. So, as you might expect, my workdays are filled with NOTHING but positive energy, rainbows, and unicorns! *cough, cough, choke, choke* Yeah, right.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

How To Scare The Sh*t Out Of Your Husband Without Really Trying

Every year, when the dust settles after the holiday season, I go through a routine to organize my house and rid myself of "stuff."

Last night, I decided to start my quest by going through Hubby's clothes with him and getting rid of anything that is worn, doesn't fit, or he just doesn't like.

After making our way through two closets, we ended our clothing purge by sorting through some coats and jackets. When were done, he went off to take a shower.

Now, in the midst of looking through the coat closet, I found a short, brown coat that belongs to me. I haven't worn it in awhile because I'm not a fan of its faux fur collar:

As I was mulling over my decision to pack it up with the rest of Hubby's clothing that we were donating to charity, I realized that the creepy, faux fur collar was removable. So, I took it off.

I tried on the coat sans the collar, looked in the mirror and thought, That's much better! It's a keeper! Then, NOT THINKING, I threw the fur collar into the trash bin that is under my kitchen sink:

Fast forward to 10:00PM.

I was upstairs reading and Hubby was downstairs watching television.

He went into the kitchen to have some CHOCOLATE COVERED BISCOTTI and milk right before bed (NICE). Suddenly, I hear, "AHHHHHH!!!! WHAT THE F*CK???!!!" And I shot off the bed, ran down the stairs and asked, "Oh my God! What's the matter?"

Dudes! He was freaked out! Almost crapped himself! Seriously!

Apparently, when he threw the biscotti wrapper in the trash, he thought my furry coat collar was a creature that had climbed into our garbage bin to nest and hang out.

He was shaking!

And I?

Well, let's just say that I was crying...from laughing so gah-damn hard.

BAHAHAHAHA!

Oh, well.

That's what he gets for eating cookies right before bed.

The Gods of Weight Loss Karma bit him in the ass. Boo yah!

Who says there's no justice in this world??

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Smack, Smack, Smack!


Happy Wednesday, peeps! Just checking in to give you this weeks Operation Ass Shrinkage rundown.

Yesterday, I went for my Weight Watchers weigh in and lucky for me (Luck my freakin arse, I worked for every bit of it...trust me!), I lost 1.6 pounds. Whoot woot!

So far, since my healthy quest has begun, my butt is 6 pounds smaller (yay) which means that my chronic wedgies have ceased (double YAY---one for each cheek). But I've got to tell y'all. This shit ain't easy.

This week, I found myself in a few situations where I was struggling to keep it together. For example, I have formed an eating routine that seems to work well for me. I eat three meals and three snacks a day and I space them out according to my needs. The last snack I eat, I usually have at night when I'm watching TV with the Hubby. I usually have some almonds, or air popped popcorn, fruit, or a low fat dessert that I've whipped up.

NOW, the man that I am married to? Well, he pretty much eats whatever I eat (But more of it, bastard!), EXCEPT for our last (nighttime) snack of the day. This is pretty much when he chooses his own poison, if you will.

So, one night this week, he ate a candy bar. And my friends? It WAS NOT just a candy bar. No. It was a mother fuggin Mr. Goodbar on steroids. You know the ones, right? No, not the regular size Mr. Goodbars that you find at the pharmacy candy counter. NO, NO, NO. I'm taking about this:

Except the one he ate was ONE POUND. For reals, people.

And as he was eating his ONE POUND chocolate bar and guzzling down his big ass glass of milk, I was munching away on my very respectably sized bowl of air popped popcorn and washing it down with Pellegrino. But, I swear. The whole time, I was breathing in deep through my nose so I could take in that luscious scent of chocolate, all the while praying for the strength to resist tasering him senseless.

This pursuit of a smaller ass?

Yeah, let's all take a moment to collectively pray that someone (you know who) doesn't get hurt in the process, y'all. Seriously.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Boundaries

I love my friends.

I really do.

But I think that some of them...

OK, not some of them....

ONE OF THEM needs a lesson on boundaries.

CASE IN POINT: THE FOLLOWING IS A MESSAGE THAT WAS LEFT ON MY ANSWERING MACHINE BY MY FRIEND, LOU:


Transcription:

"Hi---Sally, Paul. This is Lou.
Just calling to say Hi. I'm on my way to the---have my prostate checked. So, uh, if you get a chance, give me a call. I'm going to be going in the office in about, about twenty-five of two. So, if you do call me, call me after that. You know---call me after two thirty or so. Alright? If you don't call me before then...Talk to you soon. Buh bye."


OK.

While I feel that I am a supportive individual and a good friend in most cases, I seriously need to draw the line at being the recipient of what I call TMI (too much information) Syndrome. Seriously.

I mean, we all have those moments in our lives when we have to deal with unpleasantries involving body parts that NO ONE else wants to hear about, right?

I mean, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I'm a woman. I deal with this stuff all the time! Well...at least once a month (Yo, Aunt Flo! What's shakin'?). And when I go to the gyno! And when I get my hooters squished!

And, and, and! You get my drift, right?

But I don't take those opportunities to call my friends and say shit like, "Yeah. It's that time of the month. The vajayjay is out of commission. How are things with you?"

You know why?

Because I have boundaries.

So, Lou? While I am thrilled that preventative medicine in the form of your "annual hairy boy probe" is working fabulously for you and that your balls are A-OK (Hooray for Lou's sack, everybody!), I'm really OK with having some mystery in our relationship...with not knowing SOME stuff...with being left in the gah-damn dark!

Honestly.

So, before you call me /email me/ draw me pictures of your next colonoscopy experience, PLEASE DON'T.

Thank.You.Very.Much.

Friday, January 15, 2010

I Know You Are, But What Am I?

This is my treadmill, George Clooney. See George on the top left and me on the top right of the display?:

Here's a closer look:


I work my butt off on him at least five days a week. I like what he does for me when my workouts are over. However, when I'm in the midst of walking/running on him? I hate his friggin guts.

As you can see, I have a small television right in front of George. Sometimes, I make my way through my FORTY FIVE MINUTES OF SHEER TREADMILL TORTURE by walking/running to the beat of whoever is cooking on the Food Network. I kid you not. I guess that would make me some sort of a culinary masochist, but whatever.

Anyway, this morning, as I was doing up George Clooney, the box that contains my super realistic pre-lit Christmas tree which I use every year because (A) real Christmas trees drip messy sap on my clean floors and (B) real Christmas trees were banned from my house BY ME when the last real tree we had HAD A FRIGGIN SPIDER'S NEST IN IT...AAAAHHHH!!!!

God. I seriously have the attention span of dryer lint.

Anyway, like I was saying, there's a box on a shelf to the right of George Clooney that contains my Christmas tree. And said box just sort of JUMPED OUT at me this morning, kind of MOCKING me as I literally worked my ass off. Check it out, right behind my head (read the top line):


GROSS weight.

Yeah. That's what I think, too.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

You Look Like A Fool With Your Pants On The Ground!

Last night, Hubby and I watched the American Idol auditions. And there was this sixty-two year old man who auditioned by singing an "original" song that he wrote. I think y'all know who I'm taking about, right?

Anyway, all last night (after Idol) and ALL DAY TODAY so far, I can not get that damn freakin song out of my head. It's pissing me off. It's giving me a headache. It's making me want to share my misery with others---THAT MEANS YOU, PEOPLE.

And so, I present to you: Larry Platt (click here) with his original rendition of "Pants On The Ground."

I can't get it out of my head. Why should you?

Hehehe...*insert evil laugh here*

HELLO, Jesus? I am so not nice sometimes. Forgive me....and blame my mother.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

"How'd You Get The Beans Above The Frank?"---There's Something About Mary (1998)

My husband is the most squeamish person I know.

This little trait comes in really handy when I'm cooking, because I never have to worry about him getting in my way. If I find that he's hindering me by hanging over my shoulder or hovering over a pan of hot boiling whatever-it-may-be, all I have to do is say, "OK. Now it's time to skin the chicken." And he goes running for the hills, lest he dry heave for the next hour.

It's pretty damn amusing.

Besides applying his squeamishness to raw foods, Hubby gets even SQEAMISHER (DIBS on this word) when he's in a setting where blood and guts are involved OR when he listens in to a conversation involving any medical procedure.

When these things occur? Dudes! He starts getting pain in his arms. I'm not kidding. I'll be all like Yeah, so my sister had her hysterectomy today and the doctors had to do it vaginally and she's fine and doing well. But, she has to go home with a catheter for a week and...blah, blah, blah... And the next thing I know? He's fidgeting uncomfortably, getting all pale, sweating like a beast, and flapping his arms like a chicken going, "OH GOD. STOP! EWWW! MY ARMS ARE HURTING! MY ARMS ARE HURTING." *insert dry heaves here* And then I'm all like, Dude! Calm down. What are you getting all squeamish about? You can't relate. You don't even have a vagina? Geez.

Seriously, people. It's crazy!

So a couple of weeks ago, Hubby and I went out for dinner with my nephew Brian and his fiance, Stephanie. And Stephanie is a registered nurse. You can see where this is going, right?

Favorite Aunt Sally, Nurse Stephanie, Nephew Brian, and Favorite Uncle Paul (Picture taken in Las Vegas---August 2009)


Yeah...NURSE TALK. UH-OH. Here go the flailing chicken arms. Bawk, bawk!

Anyway, we got to talking about how one day, Nurse Stephanie had a male patient who needed to have a catheter inserted into his pee pee...and apparently he was all gung ho about it because he'd never had one before and had no clue as to what this procedure entailed, right? So, she explained it to him. And, I'm not a medical professional or anything but I'm thinking it probably went a little like this: "Sir, You see this long ass tube that's attached to this long ass hose which is attached to this plastic piss bag? Yeah, well, we're going to lube it up to high heaven and stick it all the way into your peenie so you can pee without having to go to the john. Comprende??" You know...but with a little more compassion and shit.

Now, at this point in the conversation, my husband's eyes are WIDE. And my nephew's eyes are WIDE. And I'm thinking, Uh-OH. The arms are going to start a flappin' any second now.

And surer than Sarah Palin eats moose chili, Hubby says, "Oh my God! That poor guy!" And he pushed himself away from the table a little and starts flapping and stretching his arms saying, "I'm getting pain in my arms." Which makes NO SENSE to me at all because if he was going to have sympathy pains for the man in the story, he should have had pain in his peenie. But, whatever.

At this point, I am laughing hysterically, Stephanie is laughing with me, my nephew is horrified and says, "That is barbaric! Isn't there an easier way?" And my husband? Well, despite his clucky chicken arms and being on the verge of puking, he decides he wants more information. So, he held up his straw, turned it sideways so Steph could see its opening and asked, "Steph? Is the catheter tube bigger than this? Wider than this? Longer than this?"

And truthfully she answered, "Sometimes. But, sometimes it's even bigger."

That's when my nephew is all like OH MY GOD. And my husband is all MY ARMS, MY ARMS. PAIN IN MY ARMS! And I am laughing my freakin ass off. And Steph is laughing her ass off.

And just when we thought we couldn't laugh anymore? My nephew says, "THAT IS BARBARIC! With all the technology we have today, can't they just knock the guy out, insert some kind of computer chip into a his bladder and then press a remote control to make him pee? WHAT THE HELL?"

Hahahaha.

And I immediately thought, isn't it just like a man to think that you can solve a medical problem pertaining to MENS' WIENERS with a REMOTE CONTROL?

That's funny shit, people.

Funny, funny shit...

Hmmm...But maybe he's onto something...

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

The Incredible Shrinking Ass


So.

Here I am.

Posting my blog right after my first weekly weigh in at Weight Watchers. And I've got to tell you...

Yesterday?

A friend from high school emailed me to wish me good luck and I responded, "You know...I really worked this program. I tracked everything, I exercised, I drank water, I prepared healthy meals and made healthy choices when I DID go out to dinner. If I get on that scale and don't get a positive result? Dude! I'm going to force feed my WW leader a box of Twinkies."

I know, I know...like it would be HER fault, right?

I'm such a dumbass.

So anyway...

This morning, I drove my slightly smaller ass to WW---and I knew it was smaller because I no longer have to pull my undies out of my butt crack---Yay! No more wedgies! HOLLA!!!

FOCUS, SALLY! FOCUS!

Anywho, like I was saying---I drove to WW, parked my car in the East Bum section of the parking lot (that means VERY FAR AWAY from the door, people...I've got to get that exercise in when I can), and walked in.

My favorite receptionist called me over and I did the WW strip down.

You know what I'm talking about, right? I put down the purse, took off the coat, took off the scarf, took off the gloves, took off the shoes, etc...and I finally hopped on the scale *insert blood curdling scream and dramatic music here*.

The receptionist looked at me and said, "Good for you! You've lost 4.4 pounds!"

And my immediate response (out loud) was, "Holy crap. This shit really works."

That's when she looked at me as if I was insane---Like DUH! No shit, it really works!

I have no idea why I was surprised. I just was.

Because I am a dumbass.

Albeit a slightly smaller dumbass...

Blog Addendum:
Hubby lost five pounds this week just by eating what I'm eating. Little Bastard.
And my friend, Lou? Yeah...Well, he's on the bandwagon with us. He also lost five pounds this week. Little Bastard #2.

Friday, January 8, 2010

What A Boob!

This morning's email exchange between me and my friend, Lou:

LOU:
Hi Sally,
Here is the card I got from Macy's that I talked to you about. Just for your info.... weighed myself this morning and lost 5 pounda from Monday morning.
Lou


SALLY:
See what eating at home does for you? No temptation = smaller ass! I think we're on to something! Congratulations! Keep up the good work! BTW, what's 5 pounda? Is that the Italian word for pounds? Hehehe.


LOU:
If you keepa picking ona my spelling, I willa pounda your ASSA!!!!!


Oooooh, Lou. I'm shaking in my Uggs...NOT.

Anywho, here is the card from Macy's that Lou is referring to in his first email:


He told me ALL ABOUT how he has a Macy's credit card and his wife, LINDA, has a Macy's credit card. And apparently, LINDA used her card to buy some new bras but HE WAS THE ONE who got this EXTRA SPECIAL OFFER from Macy's in HIS NAME and isn't that just sooo freakin funny?

Um. Lou?

I'm not buying this horse shit.

I've got my own theory, dude. And it's a much better one.

You see...I think that because my blog is so effin popular (only in my head, people), some BIGWIG at the corporate headquarters of Macy's Central who reads it regularly because it is so inspirational and informational (stop with the laughing), saw this picture on it awhile back:...and immediately thought, DUDE! WE NEED TO GET YOU SOME SUPPORT FOR THOSE MOOBS (man boobs)! Here's a discount for some hooter holders! Get shopping, PRONTO...before you take an eye out with one of those things as you're running up the stairs!

Yeah...That's definitely how I'm thinking it all went down.

Who's with me?

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Even With Jesus Watching....

It's been awhile, but I've got a "mother" story.

Almost every single Saturday, I take my seventy-eight year old mother (who is the Portuguese version of Sophia Petrillo) out for lunch, to do errands, to go shopping, and to church.

I do this because (A) most of the time, I like spending time with her, (B) she doesn't drive, so I like to get her out of the house when I can, and (C) I am trying to secure my place in Heaven (Trust me, I need all the help I can get).

So, last Saturday, while we were sitting quietly in church listening to the pastor's sermon, out of NOWHERE my mother turned to me and whispered, "Hey..."

But, I didn't hear her because I was LISTENING to the priest, right? So then she whispered a little louder, "Hey, Sally..."

This time I heard her and I'm thinking, "What the heck is so important that she needs to talk to me RIGHT now?"

I figured maybe she wanted me to move out of the way because she had to go to the bathroom or something, right?

So, I leaned in a little closer to her and said, "Ma...What's the matter?"

She leaned in...reeeeaaaaallllyyyy close to my face----like what she had to say was ULTRA important and just COULD NOT WAIT----and whispered, "YOU NEED A HAIRCUT."

NICE.

In response to her out of the friggin blue (and completely inappropriate) comment, I shook my head, gave the her a VERY DISAPPROVING LOOK, and thought to myself...

Hello, Jesus? Where are those lightening bolts when you really need them?

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Take It Off! Take It All Off!


Okey dokey.

So, yesterday, I was pissed off at myself. And this was my course of action:

***I planned out several recipes for this week (breakfast, lunch, and dinner). No dining out for you, Sistah. Get your ass in the kitchen and cook (Ever notice that cook is a four letter word?)!

***I went to the grocery store after work and bought REAL groceries...You know...the kind you have to cook (Again with that four letter word!). I bought fruits, vegetables, lean meats, healthy snacks, etc...all of the stuff I need to be prepared for Operation Ass Shrinkage.

***I cleaned out my refrigerator/cupboards and rid my house of any junk food that had been lingering since the holidays. Adios salt-n-vinegar chips! Arrivederci Oreos!

***After throwing out all of the shit food that I had in the house, I put my groceries away AND even though it was ALREADY eight-thirty in the evening, I made fat free muffins for breakfast AND a casserole for tonight's dinner. GO SALLY FRIGGIN CROCKER!

***And finally, after cleaning up, putting all of the cooked foods away, and taking a bath, I RESISTED the television AND the computer and went to bed. Because you see...If I am going to get up at the ass crack of the morning to ride George Clooney, I have to get enough sleep. Because if I don't? The alarm clock will go off and I will want to smash it to smithereens and bury it in the backyard. Not.A.Morning.Person. If you get my drift...

So that's it, peeps.

Apparently, I'm off like a prom dress!

I think if my ass could clap, it would...because it is going to be soooo freakin happy.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Here I Go Again On My Own

I've heard people say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If this is the case, then I ought to be sitting in a corner somewhere, drooling all over myself, and banging my head against a wall. Because apparently? I am f*cking nuts.

I went to back Weight Watchers this morning. AGAIN. And OH.MY.LORD.IN.HEAVEN. This time? I really did some damage, people.

I should have known that I was going to be in BIG TROUBLE. Because lately? My clothes fit like crap...especially my underwear.

I've noticed that I've been walking around with a lot more wedgies than ever.

(And FYI? Nobody thinks it's SEX-AY when you're walking around the mall pulling your granny panties out of your butt crack. Just sayin.)

Oh, hell. And for that matter, not only is one of my butt cheeks always hanging out of my undies, but I've also noticed that the elastic waistband? Yeah...It keeps rolling over and disappearing!

Wow! It's magic!

No, it isn't, Sally...you dumbass.

The weight of your stomach rolls is making it disappear. Nice.

Anyfreakinwho, in the last two months, I gained SEVEN pounds. Wha? Wha? Wha? WHAT??

You heard me, Loser (that's me...talking to myself in the car after my WW meeting)! I SAID SEVEN EFFIN POUNDS!

So, what the frig am I going to do about it?

I'll tell you what I'm going to do about it, gah-damn it! I'm going to work this program, reunite with that bastard, George Clooney (No...not THAT WAY, you perv! Click here to learn more about my love/hate relationship with George!), and take control of my ass size!

Because if I don't?

It wont be long before IT needs its own zip code. Seriously.

OPERATION ASS SHRINKAGE BEGINS NOW.

Monday, January 4, 2010

I Ate, Therefore I Am

Today, I am back to work after a very lovely holiday hiatus and surprisingly, I do not want to punch anybody in the head. How's that for a kinder, gentler Sally in Twenty Ten? Huh? I know what you're thinking. The new year is young. It's only a matter of time before something pisses me off and I go all unhinged. And all I have to say to that is you know me so well! And I've missed you!

So, I've gotten a lot of emails asking me, "Well? Did you get the CROCKPOT for Christmas?" And the answer is YES, I did! Whoo hoo! I am actually breaking it in tomorrow for the first time. Assuming that the first thing I make in it doesn't taste like ass, maybe I'll even post the recipe! But prepare yourselves. It's going to be a low fat and presumably fabulous Weight Watcher's recipe because TOMORROW? Operation Ass Shrinkage commences. That means a Weight Watchers weigh in for me manyana at 9:30AM. AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!! But more about my belly rolls tomorrow....

Anyhowsa, about Christmas? Well...Besides getting what I really wanted from Santa Hubby (smart, smart man), here are some Costa holiday highlights:

***The most wretched gift I got this year? Homemade friggin fruitcake. Seriously? What person of sound mind who is under the age of ninety likes this crap? Blechhh! And YES, THOSE are M&M's and THAT IS a bowl of onion dip in the background....hence my need to get my jiggly butt back to WW tomorrow. Ho, hum.


And as you can see, it was soooooo moist that you could bust a windshield with it:

Nasty...

***And THIS is the best, most awesome Christmas present that the Hubby received (my opinion, not his)! If you don't know WHY this shirt is so AWESOME, CLICK HERE:
Doesn't he look so freakin thrilled??

And finally, after dealing with all of the hustle and bustle and craziness of getting ready for Christmas (I was the hostess, after all), I present the best means for a holly, jolly holiday...or as some might say...the ultimate coping mechanism for dealing with family:

Viva El Cafe Patron! That's coffee flavored tequila, people.

And, NO. These shots were not all for me.

Okey dokey, Smokey! That's all I've got for today.

But be sure to come back tomorrow to hear all about how I will probably faint on the WW scale when I find out how this (OH.YES.I.DID.):

And this (I.WAS.A.GLUTTON):

Contributed to my looking like this:

Oh, Barbie Girl! I feel your pain, Sistah! And the Post Holiday Remorse Diet begins immediately.

God, I am such a cliche.

Friday, January 1, 2010

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!

Happy New Year, everyone! Welcome to 2010! I am so excited today for a few reasons. First, today is the one year anniversary of my blog! Last year at this time, I was sitting around watching the snow fall and I thought, "I'm bored. I'm starting a blog!" And I did. Never in my wildest dreams did I actually think people would read it! So, thank you so much to my readers! Without you, I would be talking out my ass...to myself. I LOVE YOU, MAN (I see a Bud Light commercial in my future, don't you?)!

The second reason for my excitement is that today I am giving away three Yankee Candles (the BIG ONES, peeps!) to three different lucky readers (one each). Thank you to all who entered the Mais Fica Blog Giveaway! Now, contain yourselves because I'll announce the winners at the end of this post...right after I torture y'all a bit (I AM SOOO NOT KIDDING).

Now, speaking of torture, the third reason why I am so damn excited today is because I want to share with you, MY VALUED READERS, my transition from 2009 to 2010. I hope you'll still like me after I share my night with you (have a drink or something...you're going to need it to forget the image that you are about to see).

PARENTAL GUIDANCE IS SUGGESTED. Seriously.

Now, put your food and your beverages down. I will not be held responsible for any computer keyboards damaged by puke.

Ready? Here goes...

OK. So, yesterday Hubby and I went to pick up our friends, Pam and Bob. We brought them over to our house where we waited for Crazy Lou and Linda (she's not crazy, he is) to arrive. Lou was supposed to pick us up in an SUV of sorts so we could ride to our destinations together. Instead, he showed up in a big ass stretch limo. We all thought that the limo was sooo cool! We were like, Whoo hoo! This is going to be sooo flippin fun! Right? BUT, then? Lou got out of the limo. And we almost shit bricks.

You see, my dear friends...Yesterday, it snowed like a freak here. And it was cold AND very icy. So, we (as in Hubby, me, Pam, and Bob), being of sound mind, NEVER expected Lou to show up LOOKING LIKE THIS:
This is him standing between Pam and Bob. Can you say SEX-AY?? Oh, yeah! And it's the first time they've ever met! Thank you Pam and Bob for not running SCREAMING from our house last night upon meeting Lou. SERIOUSLY.

***FYI? There's a dish towel in Lou's shorts, so don't be thinking that there's THAT MUCH JUNK in his trunks...if you know what I mean *wink, wink*.

And since we were already in RAUNCHY mode (THANKS TO LOU), Pam and Bob presented Lou and Linda with a very appropriate "getting to know you" gift. And let me just say that Lou was ecstatic because he was now, thanks to his new peeps---Pam and Bob, the proud owner of an authentic Tiger Woods and Whore #14 Doll Set! Let's give Pam and Bob a round of applause for their generosity and creativity! Clap, clap, clap (no pun intended, Tiger...Get it? The CLAP? No? Only me then? OK...Moving on...):

Lou With His Tiger Woods & Whore #14 Dolls


OK. So, at this point in the evening, we are all praying to Jesus that Lou brought some REAL clothes with him because we are collectively thinking that staring at Lou's package all night long is NOT going to be the most conducive way to ring in the new year. And thankfully, he did. After Lou removed his dish towel peenie and got dressed in REAL clothes, we had some prosecco and snacks, toasted to the night *ching, ching*, and headed off to destination #1, the Astor's Beechwood Mansion in Newport, RI.

At the mansion, we saw a short play where some actors in period dress, acted out scenes from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. About thirty-five minutes into the play, one of the actors got "killed" and we spent the next half hour wandering around the mansion looking for clues as to who dun it! Very cool....But, FYI? All six of us guessed wrong (Romeo did it). I'm blaming the two bottles of prosecco.

Our next stop was Mama Luisa's restaurant on Thames Street in Newport where we settled in for the remainder of 2009. We enjoyed several bottles of wine and prosecco (UM...I think...five?) and indulged in a five course meal. CAN YOU SAY GLUTTONY? Thankfully, the staff at Mama Luisa's was sooo warm and welcoming, because we didn't have time to make it home for the big midnight countdown. So, we rang it in there:

Paul, Me, Bob, Pam, Linda, and Lou

Our waiter, Michael (He's a musician! Click here to learn more!)---with my Hubby

The staff loved Lou so much that they gave him an authentic Mama Luisa's chef's hat...which he wore all the way home WHILE he sang BAD KARAOKE in the back seat of the limo. Seriously, dudes? Whose friggin idea was that?:


I KNOW you want to hear him. So, even though it was too dark in the limo to get a good visual, we were able to capture his voice. I present to you...The voice of Lou! Or is it a goat being strangled to death?? You decide:


After a fun ride home, where we all sang along to horrible karaoke songs, we finally got to my house at 1:45AM. Before calling it a night, we (even my doll, Little Louie, took part) took pictures wearing our AUTHENTIC 2010 glasses (notice that I'm holding my AWESOME LIMITED EDITION Michael Jackson THRILLER Rubber Duckie (jealous???)! Thanks Pam and Bob! :



I started my year off with great food, great fun, and great friends (and a great Hubby)! I have a feeling that 2010 is going to be an awesome year! And I hope you'll all stick around to experience it with me!

Happy New Year to you all! From the bottom of my heart!!

***And now....

The winners (electronically selected at random) of the Mais Fica Yankee Candle Giveaway are:

1. Bella

2. Ann On and On

3. cmoursler

Congratulations, ladies! Please email me (see my blog profile page) with your full names and shipping addresses. Candles will be shipped on Monday, January 4th 2010 via UPS Ground delivery. Thanks for playing!!!

And here's a little consolation prize for those of you who didn't win :( Hey, it beats turtle wax. Doesn't it?