Monday, August 30, 2010

The Devil Buys Chocolate

Last week, Lou, and his wife---Linda, got back from a ten day vacation.

They went to Italy, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.

The day after their return, Hubs and I decided to meet them for sushi, so we could hear all about their trip.

We met them at their home so we could drive to the restaurant together. When we got there, Lou was waiting in his driveway. He wanted us to come into the house because he wanted to give us some "presents" that he bought us on his trip.

The Hubby got a very nice Swiss Army Knife.

And I?

Well, Lou said he decided to buy me something from THIS store because when he walked passed it, it reminded him of me (NICE):



And in the vulgar-ish bag was a chocolate replica of the Matterhorn:



Hmmm...Let's bypass the Gucci store and buy Sally a MOUNTAIN of chocolate, instead!

Yeah.

THAT'S EXACTLY what my ass needs right about now.

Bastard.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

And Before You Ask? Peanut Butter Is Not Fruit, Either.

In my quest for good health AND a skinny ass, I've been trying to incorporate more fresh fruits and vegetables into my diet. And since I AM the cook in the house, I'm forcing my husband to do the same. Yes. I said forcing.

The following is a conversation that Hubs and I had yesterday during lunch, as a result of my attempts....

Me: Look what I bought from the farmer's market! Fresh cherries! Have some.

Hubs: *Completely unexcited, reaches for the cherries. He eats FIVE, then quits.*

Me: Aren't they sooooo sweet? Have some more.

Hubs: Nah. I'm good.

Me: I thought you liked cherries?

Hubs: They're okay. *PAUSE* I'm not really a fruit person.

Me: Well, you should be. Seriously, Paul. It's good for you. You should really try to eat more fruit.

Hubs: I don't like it.

Me: That's ridiculous. There are so many kinds of fruit in this world. You don't like any of it?

Hubs: I like corn.

Me: CORN IS NOT A FRUIT!

Hubs: *pondering* Ooooh! You know what else I like?

Me: What?

Hubs: I like SOUR PATCH KIDS!

Me: WHA?

Hubs: I SAID I like SOUR PATCH KIDS!

Me: Seriously, dude?

Hubs: What?! They're FRUITY?!

Me: So was Liberace! SOUR PATCH KIDS ARE NOT FRIGGIN FRUIT, EITHER!!!

Hubs: *defeated* Oh.


Clearly, I'm fighting an uphill battle here, people.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Saving His Ass...Since 1992

Dear Life Insurance People,

I know that MANY, MANY times in the past, I have threatened to do bodily harm to my husband (i.e., stab, taser, smother with a pillow) right here on this blog---mainly because I get frustrated with his ability to eat like a ravenous beast and never gain a freakin pound (And an ALL WOMEN jury would NEVER convict me!).

However, I want you to know that YESTERDAY? I saved his ass.

You see...

Last night? I decided to clean out HIS medicine cabinet just for shits and giggles (Personally, I take ZERO over-the-counter medications). In doing so, I found out that all of these meds had expired...LIKE THREE YEARS AGO! WTF?



I'm not sure what the ramifications of ingesting old ass meds are. But, since I'm a drama queen, I'll assume that I saved Mr. Oblivious' life.

And THAT means that I saved YOU a crap load of money.

I think I deserve a reward for that.

I'll take a new iPad.

Best,
Sally

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

An "L" On My Forehead, A Smile On My Face :)

This is my scale, Edward.



This is Edward AFTER my Saturday morning Weight Watchers weigh-in.





Any questions???

I know, I know. You have at least TWO.

First?

You're asking yourself, "Is Edward r-e-a-l-l-y wearing a Boston Red Sox hat?"

The answer would be YES.

Both Edward and I are indeed Red Sox fans, even though they suck a lot of the time. Shut up, Yankees fans! And you can keep that has been traitor, Johnny Damon, too!

Calm down, Sally. Calm down.

We love our hometown teams! And like the captain of a large vessel, we always go down with the ship. Well, except for like ONCE every 85 years or some shit. Then, we actually win a World Series or two.

And SECOND?

You wanna know how much weight I lost this week. Right?

Well, after sticking to my plan and literally working my freakin ass off, here are my results:



You're not seeing things, people! You're actually looking at SIX FRIGGIN POUNDS. Or like my Weight Watchers leader enthusiastically says, "YAY! THAT'S A FAMILY SIZE PACKAGE OF GROUND CHUCK!"

Um. Okay.

Anywho, SIX FREAKIN POUNDS! Giddy-up, Muthafugga!

Man. I feel like such a big loser this week.

AND I'M LIKING IT!

Monday, August 23, 2010

The "LOU" Diet

Last week, I told y'all about some changes that I made that I know will revamp my weight loss efforts.

HOWEVER, if YOU---my dearest readers---want to lose weight with lightening speed, I've got an even better idea. Trust me. IT WILL WORK.

The first step is, I will personally introduce you to my pal, Lou (Click here for the heads up on Lou). Lou loves everybody. So, he'll love you, too. This probably means that he will invite you to his house for dinner.

Once you're at his house, he'll kill you with kindness. He'll ply you with wonderful wines. He'll entice you with yummy appetizers.

Then?

He'll make you some delicious beef wellington...from scratch!

He'll roll out the dough...


He'll make his very own "mushroom & fresh herb" spread...


He'll position the "roasted to perfection" fillet of beef on the dough...



And just as he gets ready to bake the fillet...




He'll put his initials on it (FYI...I have no friggin idea what this is all about. I think it's sort of like when a cat "marks his territory" by pissing on a carpet. Weirdo.)...


And before you can shake a stick? VOILA! Lou will present you with this lovely, succulent dinner that is fit for royalty!


Right about now, you're probably wondering how hanging out with Lou could possibly cause you to lose weight. Right? Hold on. It's coming...

Okay, so picture it. You're at Lou's house and he's made this wonderful meal. AND the house smells YUMMY. AND you're drinking wine. AND you're having some nice conversation with friends. AND you are READY TO EAT YOUR FRIGGIN ARM OFF because you are soooo hungry! Right?! Right?!

And then you sit down at the dinner table!

And your eyes bug out of your head because you see all kinds of yummy things that are set before you and you're not sure what you should sample first!

There's a beautiful strawberry and poppy seed salad! There's some warm, fresh bread! There's some perfectly grilled baked potatoes and garlic seasoned asparagus! AND there's some fresh, native, OH.SO.SWEET corn-on-the-cob that makes your mouth water just by smelling it!

By this point, you are starvin like freakin Marvin (Who the eff is Marvin, anyway?) and you are getting ready to dig in! Right?!

Suddenly, you look over at Lou. And he's heading straight for that sweet corn-on-the-cob. And he starts devouring it (DUDE! You're supposed to get it IN YOUR MOUTH!)!


AND THAT'S WHEN....


Even though you were FAMISHED???

You suddenly lose your friggin appetite. BLECH...

Loss of appetite = Loss of weight.

It's not rocket science, people.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Ass Shrinkage 101

In an attempt to revamp my weight loss efforts, I've made a few changes recently. Because this bullcrap of losing an average of .2 pounds a week? Yeah, it clearly proves that I've been a slacker. Seriously.

***The first change that I made was I quit going to my Tuesday morning Weight Watchers meetings.

Don't panic. I didn't quit the program.

I just decided that Tuesday mornings are not convenient ENOUGH for me. When I first signed up for WW, I assumed that because I am self employed, I could easily skip out on Tuesday mornings and enjoy my meetings.

Turns out, that was a load of crap because something ALWAYS happens at work---an unexpected meeting or deadline---that keeps me from attending my weekly meeting. And when I get my motivation sporadically, like that? I suck at following the plan. Period. So, now I've switched my meeting time to Saturday mornings, when I can focus more on ME without any distractions.

***Another change that I made was I stopped paying for my Weight Watchers membership weekly and started paying for it monthly.

This change not only saves me money---weekly weigh-ins cost $13.00 AND the monthly pass costs $9.22 per week---But, it also gives me full access to Weight Watchers eTools.

This is such a BIG DEAL for me because I am a tracker slacker. I know that I am supposed to write down/keep track of what I eat. Yet, I don't because it's a pain in the ass for me to carry my WW points tracker/companion books/paraphernalia around with me everywhere I go (and I'm rarely home).

With WW eTools, I can track my eating and exercise on any computer that has Internet access. And since I sit at a computer for a HUGE part of my day, keeping myself on track and accountable is easy peasy. Seriously, folks. I LOVE IT.

***The third change that I made pertains to my exercise pattern.

It's been said that the best time of the day to exercise is in the morning. Pish posh. Not for me. I am not a morning person. If you even look at me in what I perceive to be the wrong way before 8:00AM, I will contemplate stabbing you in the neck.

For this reason, I've decided to fit my exercise in right after work. Sometimes this means that I'm working out at 6:00PM, 7:00PM, or even 8:00PM.

And even though I FRIGGIN HATE TO EXERCISE (FYI--If lying on the couch with a warm blankie and a good book WAS exercise, I'd be the skinniest b*tch in town), I know that--like brushing my teeth and bathing, it's just something that I HAVE to do. No ifs ands or big butts about it.

***Finally, I've been trying to change my attitude about eating. Because, here's the deal. I CAN EAT. No, really. I CAN EAT like a 500LB truck driver.

But I don't really understand why I feel like I have to? So, what I've been asking myself when I feel like this is AM I REALLY HUNGRY? Or am I just eating because I'm stressed, bored, or tired?

I also try to curb my eating--when I'm at the point of feeling fairly satisfied with what I've consumed--by reminding myself that I DON'T HAVE TO stuff myself SILLY because there will be another meal in my future. As in...Even though I've eaten three meals and several snacks today, I WILL get to eat AGAIN tomorrow! WOW! What a freakin revelation!

So that's where I am in my pursuit of a smaller ass, my friends.

Oh, wait. Speaking of ass...

This week? I've been bicycling like a mad dog after work...and I think I might have sprained mine.

Crazy, right?

I know!

I expected bicycling to give me sore legs! But, my butt cheeks? Holy crap! Do they hurt like H-E-L-L?!

The old me would use this sh*t as an excuse.

She'd be all, "I can't exercise today. My ass is broken."

But the new me?

She's my Mother's daughter. And she ain't buying it.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Sally Who?

This morning, I called one of my customers to discuss a minor problem with a job that I'm doing for him.

(FYI---If you're new here, Hubby and I own a reputable company together. Just wanted to clarify that because talking about my "customer" might give you the idea that I'm a hooker or something.)

So, this customer of mine?

Yeah, he thinks my name is Sue. I have no fuggin idea why.

And every time I call him, I say, "Hi Larry. This is Sally Costa." And he says, "WHO?" And then, he ends up calling me SUE for the duration of the conversation (Is he deaf? Is he dumb? I DON'T FREAKIN KNOW!).

He does this even when HE calls ME...ALWAYS asks for FRIGGIN SUE.

So this morning, I call him, right? And this is what he says...

Me: Good morning, Larry! This is Sally Costa from XYZ Company. How are you?

Larry: I'm good.

Me: Great, great. So, Larry--I have a question about a print that you sent me.

Larry: Who is this again?

Me: SALLY...From XYZ Company.

Larry: Ohhhh. *PAUSE* Can I talk to SUE? SHE'S MY FAVORITE!

Apparently, even when I'm only competing with MYSELF, I still lose. FML.

Monday, August 16, 2010

I Heart The First Amendment

I got an email from a blog reader asking me where the marble penis picture from this post went.

Apparently, while I THOUGHT that it was a lovely display of marble phallicism, the Big Cheeses of the blogosphere did not. AND? I was censored...son-of-a-b*tch.

Yeah, they pretty much told me that I am a detriment to society, Bill O'Reilly thinks I will burn in Hell, and my blog is bordering on pornographic (Well, not in so many words, BUT I KNOW THAT'S WHAT THEY MEANT!!)

Dudes! On top of everything else that I am, now I'm also a porn queen!

Crap.

I'd better get myself to a church....ASAP!

Anywho, like I told the blog reader who was looking for the now MIA peenie picture, if you'd like a copy of it...you know...to use as your computer desktop or screen saver, send me an email (You'll find my email address on my blogger profile).

And do me a favor. In the subject line, type: SEND ME THE WEENIES

That way, I'll know that you're one of my peeps, and not just some Internet perv who's trying to send me SPAM in the form of erectile dysfunction literature.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Hot Buns In The City

So, this is it!

My last official post about my long weekend at BlogHer in New York City!

And I figured, it would be fun to make y'all jealous by introducing you to all of the rich and famous peeps that I hobnobbed with.

Commence hateration, people.

Okay, so here I am with celebrity #1....The super awesome, hotter than hot...

Pillsbury Dough Boy!

Call me crazy. But, I don't think there's anything sexier than a dude with full, plump, hot out of the oven cinnamon buns. Yum, yum. Am I right, ladies?

After me and the dough boy of my dreams canoodled for a bit, my fickle side came through and I made my way into this red headed stud's embrace:

HELLO, Ronald McDonald!

Finally, after breaking the news to Ronald that I was married and therefore WOULD NEVER be his own private little happy meal, I meandered over to a Tropicana Orange Juice display at the BlogHer Expo and I ran into this guy...

Holy Crap! It's Bruce Jenner!

I have nothing perverse to say about Bruce. Only that when I saw him, I yelled, "Who's keeping up with the Kardashians NOW? I AM, I AM!" And then I giggled.

Bruce just stared at me with this kind of annoyed look on his face as if to say, "Just hurry up and take the picture, you unoriginal
be-otch."


Calm down, Bruce. You're no friggin George Clooney.

And the last person that I met in NYC that I want to tell you about, isn't famous at all.

But, she SAVED MY LIFE. So, I think it's only fitting that I give her a shout out.

On the last day that we were in New York, Hubs and I decided to take a bus to Ground Zero. We'd never been there before and wanted to take some time to see and reflect at the site where so many of our fellow Americans lost their lives. We also wanted to check out the progress of the Ground Zero Memorial.

When we got close to the actual site, I noticed a street vendor selling food about twenty feet away from us. Hubs and I were hot and a little hungry, so we decided to stop at the vendor's cart to get a cold drink and something to eat.

As I was getting closer to placing my food order (there was quite a long line), I heard somebody chanting. I looked at my husband and said, "Do you hear that?" "Yeah," he said..."Where is that coming from?" "I don't know," I replied. And we just kind of ignored it.

Suddenly, as I got closer and closer to the vendor, the chanting got louder and louder and I was able to make out what THE VOICE was saying.

It was a woman, chanting in a low voice, "Don't eat it. Don't eat it. Don't eat it. Don't eat it." PAUSE. "Don't eat it. Don't eat it. Don't eat it. Don't eat it." PAUSE.

I looked around and saw a man, his young son, and his wife standing on the corner against a large financial building. Clearly, they were tourists.

As I got closer to them, and the chanting got a little louder, I looked at the woman inquisitively and whispered...

Me: Are you talking to me?

Woman: Yes! Please don't eat there! I saw that vendor picking his nose something fierce and now he's touching all of that food! Please don't eat there!

Me: Oh my God! Thank you for telling me!

And that, my friends, is how a very kind, complete stranger, from waaaaay down south (she had an accent) stuck her neck out to save MY LIFE....

By keeping me from eating a BOOGER BURGER.

To pay it forward, I gave her my card. And I told her to contact me if she ever needed anything...you know...like bone marrow or a kidney or something.

And she just laughed.

Sometimes I forget that people are good.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Like Popeye, I Am What I Am...

I wrote a post today about the "famous" people that I met while in New York last weekend, but I've decided to put in on hold until tomorrow. Ooooh! You're going to be soooo jealous!

However, today? I want to address something.

In the last couple of days, I've received some backlash about what I write, both HERE and on FACEBOOK.

NEWSFLASH: SOME PEOPLE MAY FIND ME OFFENSIVE

For the record, I just want to say that when I write, I try to project my feelings about an event that happened in my life as honestly as possible.

For example? That incident with Elevator Chick? Yeah. I didn't know her from Jack (I did meet her later and LOVED her). But I do know that AT THE TIME of our first meeting, our interaction left me feeling slighted. And in that blog post, my choice of words when describing her, reflects that.

And while I'm on the subject....

If anyone out there wants to call me a "skinny" ANYTHING...including---but not limited to a whore, skank, or bitch, (FYI...I love the "Skinny Bitch" books on weight loss by Rory Freedman/Kim Barnouin), I would take it as a compliment and possibly do naked cartwheels throughout the streets of NYC. But, that's just me....

In this great country that I call home, I am SO FLIPPIN THRILLED to be able to express myself via so many means of social media. I know how lucky I am because I actually met women from other countries whose lives are at risk because they blog. Can you even imagine that?

So, here's the deal.

If you want to read what I have to say, I AM HONORED and HUMBLED...really and truly.

That being said, if you can't take a joke, don't like me, or don't like the way that I express myself, then change the freakin channel.

I don't need readers bad enough to compromise who I am.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot, Like Me?

Friday was the first official day of BlogHer and I was so flippin' excited.

I was excited because for the first time in my life, I was going to rub elbows/make friends/get inspired by THOUSANDS of fellow women bloggers...many of whom I already felt that I knew personally, because I've been reading about them forever.

So, on Friday morning, I began my day at BlogHer's Newbie Breakfast---which was very interesting, to say the least.

While there, I met and exchanged business cards with loads of bloggers. But, I couldn't help feeling a little bit out of place.

There were women there talking OH SO EXCITEDLY about their hobbies---like how they just LOVE to make their own jams and jellies!---To which I silently thought, "Eff that. They sell that sh*t at the grocery store. I'd rather lay on the couch with a good book."

There were "new" moms there talking about how their babies' poop changed in texture AFTER they stopped breast feeding.---To which I thought, "Yeah, well mine changes texture AFTER I eat spicy Thai food."

And there were women there talking about "BEING GREEN" and how they cut up their husbands' t-shirts to use as rags so they don't have to buy paper towels.---To which I thought, "God, I freakin love paper. If I could tongue-kiss the guy that invented it, I totally would."

So, after a long-ish day of going to BlogHer sessions (seminars) and acting nice and smiling at everyone and holding in all of my desires to hurl eff bombs, I decided to skip all BlogHer parties and hang out with my Hubs for the night.

In the elevator, on my way up to my room, I met this very interesting chick. She said hello to me and quickly glanced at my name tag before asking:

Elevator Chick: Are you a blogger?

Me: Yes, I am.

Elevator Chick: That's great! Because you fit the bill!

Me: (scared to ask WTF bill she was talking about) Um. Okay.

Elevator Chick: Do you have a card?

Me: (digging around in my bag) Um. Yeah. Here you go.

Elevator Chick: Great! I'm going to leave something for you at the concierge desk.

Me: Okay.

Then, she exited the elevator.

FYI, I didn't think that her actions were weird because at BlogHer, TONS of sponsors shower you with free swag. So, I figured that Elevator Chick was there promoting some COOL product, which was fine with me because WHO DOESN'T LOVE FREE STUFF?! Right?

Anywho, I made my way to my room where I changed my clothes and then Hubby and I went out on the town.

When we got back to the hotel at midnight-ish, I had a message from the concierge announcing that they were holding a package there for me. I got excited! Whoo hoo! Free stuff from the Elevator Chick!

Quickly, I dashed out to meet the concierge and retrieve my prize for which the mysterious Elevator Chick said, I FIT THE BILL.

Dudes! Get this sh*t.

My free swag?

For which I fit the effin bill?

Yeah, it was a big ass bottle of humidity control hair tamer!

That skinny whore in the elevator thought that I looked like a fuggin Chia Pet! WTF?!

I made my way back up to my room and told Hubby what happened. I said, "Can you believe this sh*t? Can you believe that THAT STINKIN WHORE thinks my hair looks like an unruly MASS OF ASS?!"

Always looking on the bright side, he smiled, looked me in the eye and answered, "At least it wasn't wrinkle cream!"

Good call, Dude.

And OH.SO.FRIGGIN.LUCKY for Elevator Chick...

Seriously.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Feliz Navidad From Your Peeps In Chinatown!

Ahhhh...Home Sweet Home.

Just returned from a four day trip to the Big Apple where I attended BlogHer. And man, am I friggin exhausted.

You'll be THRILLED to know that I have a sh*tload of stories for you because I am so obviously a LOON magnet....and where better for me to be BOMBARDED by BATSH*TCRAZY people than good ole' NYC?

For reals.

Since I did a whole lot of stuff and met a bazillion people while I was there, I hereby proclaim this: NY Week.

Pull up a chair and here we go...

So last Thursday, Hubby and I (Yeah. He went, too..) commenced our trip by taking a train to NY, hailing a cab to our hotel, whipping all of our sh*t into our room, and heading to Chinatown and Little Italy.

Hubby had never been to either neighborhood, so I coaxed him into exploring these areas with me by promising him great food/wine/cannoli/gelato.

What I didn't tell him?

His food fest wouldn't begin until I went shopping ALL OVER CANAL STREET and its side roads.

People? Do you know how many little shops there are in Chinatown? Seriously?

Well, I don't either. But, if you ask my husband, he'll say TOO EFFIN MANY, as I dragged his sweaty ass into almost every one of them on what was possibly the HOTTEST day of the summer.

After like FOUR hours, he finally said, "AWW! C'mon! They ALL sell the same things! I can't take it anymore!"

"Fine," I said. "We'll just go into ONE more store so I can buy some Chinese tea. Then, I PROMISE, we'll go over to Little Italy where you can eat like a beast."

He resigned to the fact and followed me into the store.

As I was looking around at all of the lovely oriental dishes and knickknacks, Hubby---who was now in a better mood because he was having visions of mozzarella covered chicken dancing in his head, suddenly appeared before me with a huge grin on his face. He said...

Hubby: Is it too early to start Christmas shopping?

Me: Um. No, I guess not. Why?

Hubby: Remember how I said that ALL of these stores carry the same crap?

Me: Yeah?

Hubby: Well, I found something in the next aisle that we haven't seen ANYWHERE else.

Me: And you want to give it to somebody for Christmas?

Hubby: YEAH!

Me: Who?

Hubby: Hmmm...I'm not really sure.

Me: Dude! What the hell?! Quit bothering me!

Hubby: I'm serious! Come and look at it!

So, I rounded the end cap of the aisle, peered around the corner, and saw a shelf full of...um...hmmm...

How can I put this DELICATELY?

OH HELL. It was a shelf full of alabaster penis bookends. I am not even kidding you, people.

And upon viewing them, I immediately turned to Hubs and said, "You're right! You should DEFINITELY buy it...FOR YOUR MOTHER! Because NOTHING says 'MERRY CHRISTMAS, MAMA!' like a ginormous marble weiner."

"ICCCKKKK," he responded. "That's so freakin nasty."

You started it, Dude.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

My Least Favorite Commandment

Here you go.

It's another classic episode of Why I Self-Medicate...starring ME as the BUTTON and my MOTHER (AKA. The 79 year old/Portuguese Mouth-Filter-Less, Sophia Petrillo) as the BUTTON PUSHER. Seriously.

On Saturday, after taking my Mother out for lunch, shopping, errands, and church (I AM THE BEST FRIGGIN DAUGHTER EVER), I was FINALLY on my way to bring her home---when she spotted a sign in the window of a Dunkin Donuts. It read: Buy 6 donuts, Get 6 free.

Immediately, she asked (Remember...She speaks with a Portuguese accent):

Sophia: Can I buy a DUZZA donuts?

Me: What are you going to do with a DOZEN donuts?

Sophia: I gonna eat one or two. I gonna give some to my friend, Inez. And, I gonna give some to your brudda (That's BROTHER, people).

Me: If Dr. S saw you buy a DOZEN donuts, he'd be really mad! You know you're not supposed to eat too many sweets (She weighs 128lbs soaking wet, but she is at risk for Type 2 Diabetes).

Sophia: I don't cay-ah about him. He needa mind his own business and pay attention to da girls dat work foe-a him. DEY ARE SO FAT. I am not fat!

Me: (parking the car at the donut shop) Fine. Whatever, Ma.

At that point, she handed me some cash and made me go into the donut shop to buy her a box of assorted fried doughcrap.

As I got back into the car, she asked:

Sophia: You wanna take some donuts home foe-a Paul?

Me: No, Ma. He won't eat them. Paul's not really crazy about donuts.

Sophia: How aboud you? You wanna take some donuts home
foe-a you?


Me: (getting pissed now) No, Ma. I don't want any donuts. You wanted the donuts. You take them home and do whatever you want with them.

AND THAT'S WHEN IT HAPPENED.

SHE SMUGLY CROSSED HER ARMS, ALL PRIM AND PROPER AND SHIT, AND SAID:

Sophia: Hmmm. Hmmm. You ALWAYS say no to the donuts. Yet, your COO (Portuguese slang for ASS) is always the same size. Hmmm. Hmmm.

Yes. You heard me correctly.

And, the worst part?

She kept saying, "Hmmm. Hmmm." Like she was pondering the GREAT mystery that is my fuggin ass size.

I don't know, people.

I.JUST.DON'T.FRIGGIN.KNOW.

What don't I know, you ask?

I don't know if duct taping an old lady's mouth is considered elder abuse if she was asking for it.

Seriously.