Tuesday, November 29, 2011

I Eat Chocolate, Therefore I Am

Today's post is sponsored in part by my incredibly shrinking ass.

I just got back from my Weight Watchers meeting.  Before I tell you about my weigh-in, I'd like to say that I'm no coward, y'all.  I think I deserve a chocolate bar just for showing up there the week after Thanksgiving.  I'll take a Kit Kat, thankyouverymuch. 

Lately, I've been pretty quiet about my weight loss efforts.  The reason for that is simple.  I am not a weight loss blogger and I don't pretend to be.  I make no secret of the fact that I've struggled with my weight FOREVER, and I'm in no position to preach to the choir about walking away from the chocolate, when many times, I don't choose to do so myself (Dear Chocolate, I heart you).

As a matter of fact, the other day, when questioned about what it is that I write about, I answered, "I'm just an incredibly youthful looking, normal gal (hehe) who writes about everything....you know, everyday life...like how I sometimes want to stab people, how some people are whores, and how my pursuit of a smaller ass is never ending.

Incidentally, the person who asked me this question was Jason, the awesome sales associate at a local candle store, who upon hearing my response said, "OH MY GOD!  YOU ARE MY SOUL MATE!" 

Clearly, Jason is a man with flawless taste.

Anywho, since I've been exercising like a mad dog lately (at 5:30am, for those of you who know how much of a friggin morning person I am) and making the healthiest food choices possible, I was thrilled to find out that I've maintained my weight through Thanksgiving and into this week.  Plus, in the last few weeks, I've managed to attain this:

Sweet niblets!  It's only a matter of time before I'm wearing a thong on a public beach!

You heard me.

Before I leave you to continue on with my incredibly exciting day (Tonight I'm roasting spaghetti squash AND brussel sprouts!  WHO'S A WILD WOMAN?!  I AM!  I AM!), I just want to tell you what happened to me after the meeting, when I met up with the Hubster at work

I walked into his office to tell him how my weigh-in went.  Then, I said, "Hey, today there was talk around the Weight Watchers meeting room about my working for the company!  The district manager was there and she said that she seriously wants me to consider IT because...SHE LOVES ME."  It's probably because I'm sooooo awesome.

His response? 

"Ummmm....Yeah?  No.  It's probably more because she knows that you can talk a dog off a meat wagon."

I like my explanation better.

Friday, November 18, 2011

They Never Look Like Clooney :(

Wednesday night, Hubs and I went to our friend, Linda's book signing, at a local wine bistro (and yummy restaurant).  When we got there, we noticed that virtually every table was taken, so we moseyed on up to the bar, where we contemplated having dinner.  Upon further observation, Hubs spotted a nice table for two and told me to wait at the bar while he asked our favorite waitress, Ashley, if said table was free for the taking.

Two seconds after Hubs walked away, and I am LITERALLY talking TWO SECONDS here, people---the man sitting at the bar to my left, tapped me on the arm.....

Crazy ManHi.  I'm Jerry.  I'm sixty-four years old and I was in the Navy for fourteen years.  Are you single?

Me:   No.

Crazy ManOh.  *pause*  Does that mean you don't want to dance?


Crazy ManI was in the Navy for fourteen years!

MeYou already said that.

Crazy ManI was discharged because I got hurt.

MeHead injury?

Crazy Man:    No.  A plane was landing and I was guiding it in.  It came too close to me and the wing sliced open my stomach.

MeYou were hit by a moving airplane?

Crazy ManYep.

MeYeah, right.

Crazy Man:   I'm not lying.

MeDo you have a scar?

Crazy ManNo.


Crazy ManOh....*pause*   I didn't notice your wedding ring until just now.

Me:  You'll probably notice my husband's when he punches you in the face.

Crazy Man:   WOW!   Hmmm....So, ONCE I played the harmonica on stage during TWO Janis Joplin concerts.


Crazy ManYeah!  And I gave Janis Joplin a ride to her next gig!  AND I gave her a dime--because she had like NO MONEY on her--so, I gave her a dime to make a phonecall!

Me:   Do you have evidence of this?

Crazy ManWhat do you mean?

MeDo you have a picture of you and Janis Joplin together?

Crazy ManNo.  But, I wish I did.

MeUh-huh.  *pause*   Elvis is my real dad.

Crazy ManHuh?

MeYou heard me.

Crazy Man:   I like you!

MeOf course you do.

And there you go, peeps.  I'm a forty-two year old woman who's still got it.  And by IT, I'm referring to the ability to attract chubby, older dudes who waddle, wear orange t-shirts covered in food stains, and make shit up.

Who says beauty fades?

Thursday, November 10, 2011

A Day In The Life

A True Story



Lunch at a local restaurant.

Man walks in.

Man orders takeout.

Sudden, lingering funk in the room.

Ponder the funk.

Dry heave.

Look to the right.

Determine the culprit.

Shit happens. 

To us. 

All the feckin time. 

The End.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Never Look A Gift Whore In The Mouth

Yesterday, I was showered with lame ass gifts by my friends, Linda and Lou.  If you're not familiar with Lou, click here to read all about the jackass him (my sincere apologies, in advance).

Last week, L and L went on vacation to Palm Springs.  I'm so sorry, people of California.  

AND everytime they go on vacation, they bring me CRAP presents.  I know.  I'm soooo lucky. 

Anywho, here's what I got this time....

Okay.  Not bad....except for the fact that it makes me crave chocolate. 
I give it a 7 out of 10 for its cutability factor.  Hmmmm...Cutability?
I think I just invented a word.  You're welcome, Oxford English Dictionary.

Hmmmm.....Would it surprise you to know that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE these?
Seriously!  When I wear these, I can tell people to FUG
off without actually telling them to FUG off! 
HELLO, personal trainer?!  I'm talkin' to you!
I rate these a 10 out of 10!

Um.  Okay.  I love chocolate.  But, I'm not a fan of anything
that gives me explosive diarrhea AND fireass, simultaneously.
I give this a 2 out of 10...because, really?  Nobody likes
a raw bum bum.

And finally?  They gave me this cool metal fortune cookie for my desk....

Oh, wait!  There's actually a fortune inside! What does it say?!

Hmmmm...The suspense is killing me!  Let's open it together!  Ready? 


You're too little-too late, fortune cookie people. 

Thanks for nothing.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Like Flies On Poo Poo

Honestly, I really don't understand why weird /crazy/ nasty/ crabbyass people flock to me like hair on soap, but it happens to me ALL OF THE DAMN TIME

Last night, Hubs and I went grocery shopping because the ketchup bottle in our refrigerator was looking quite sad and lonely.  We walked up and down every aisle, we roamed the produce department, we carefully chose our whole grain bread, and after almost two hours, we finally made our way to the checkout line. 

When we got to the front of the store, we realized that there was only one register open besides the express one for people who had twelve items or less.  We quickly took our place in line and waited patiently.  About a minute after getting in the checkout line, an old man got in line behind us.  We noticed that he only had about twenty items in his carriage, so Hubs told him that he could go ahead of us.  He seemed grateful and said, "Thank you."  To which, my husband cheerily responded, "No problem!"

After we let him get in front of us, the old dude placed his groceries on the conveyor.  THEN, he turned around to look at me and asked, "What's becoming of the English language?"

"Excuse me?" I asked.

He continued, "Once upon a time, when a person said THANK YOU, the proper response was YOU'RE WELCOME!  It was NOT---NO PROBLEM!"

Dudes!  Can you even believe that shit?  The nerve of that ornery, little weasel!  My husband happily let him cut the line (because it was a nice thing to do) and in response, he was rude and downright patronizing!

I immediately stepped up. 

I looked him square in his cataract lenses and said, "What's becoming of the human race?!  ONCE UPON A TIME, when somebody did something nice for a person---like let them move to the front of a line---the proper, gracious response would be to express sincere gratitude to them...NOT TO INSULT THEM!"

He gave me a dirty look and turned around to face the front of the line, totally ignoring my response.

For the record,  I really wanted to respond, "HOW ABOUT, BITE ME?!  IS THAT A BETTER RESPONSE, YOU ORNERY LITTLE FUG?!" 

But, I didn't...

Because he was old...

And probably very lonely (no wonder)...

And EVEN I have boundaries....

(Shut up.)

Monday, October 31, 2011

Booyah, Yuh Glutton.

Happy Halloween!!!!!!

Last night, Hubby requested that we go to one of his favorite Italian restaurants for dinner. 

Even though I've been trying to curb the whole eating out thing lately (because I want to lose weight / avoid food temptations /stop my ass cheeks from dragging on the ground), I agreed to go.  I figured it would be a good test for me because I seriously need to learn how to make better food choices when I'm in social situations.

Before we left, I purposefully explained to the Husband that even though we were going out to enjoy a nice dinner, I was not going to sabotage my weight loss efforts and all of the damn exercise that I sweat my funbags off doing this week.  I was not going to indulge in any appetizers, dessert, or alcoholic beverages and I would appreciate it if he would support me in my efforts.

"That's fine.  Whatever you want...no problem at all." he said.

Cool.  This will be a lovely way to end our weekend, I thought. 

So, we got to the restaurant and sat at a lovely corner table for two.  Immediately, the waitress came over and we ordered
drinks--a glass of red wine for Hubs and some carbonated water with lime for me.  THEN, the waitress brought over a loaf of bread (A WHOLE FUGGIN LOAF) with some dipping oil, which I pushed away and the Husband proceeded to devour. 

Whatever, dude.  I can handle this.

In conjunction with the olive oil / bread blotter combo, the Husband also ate a Caesar salad.  Then, he had two pan seared/breaded/lubed up in God knows what chicken breasts, a pile of pasta drenched in pesto sauce, another glass of red wine, followed by a GLASS OF MILK, and a white chocolate-hazelnut tartufo (white chocolate gelato, rolled in nuts, covered in whipped cream, dusted with cocoa powder).

Muthafugga.  I.Can.Handle.This.

While I watched him eat, I drank water, more water, and even more water.  Then, I ate some spinach pasta (about a cup and a half) with four shrimp in a spicy tomato sauce.  No cheese.  No bread.  No wine.  No gelato.  No bullshit.

I think I handled myself pretty well and I was proud of the fact that I didn't misstep and sabotage myself. 

However, truth be told?

I kinda wanted to give my husband rabbit punches to the back of the head because he was lounging and savoring and taking FOREVER and a freakin day to eat all of that crap. 

When we FINALLY got home, Hubs was tired (No shit!  He was in a carb coma!)  He took a shower and went to bed.

I stayed up and read for awhile.  Then, I went to bed at 10:30...and I slept like a baby.

This morning, I awakened to the Husband...yelling profanities from the bathroom.

Hubs:  What the f*&%?!  Holy f%$#^&* shit!

Me:  What's the matter?  

Hubs:  I'll tell you what's the matter!  I'm THREE pounds heavier today than I was yesterday!

Me:  (hiding under the blankets)  Hehehehehehe....Um..And you're surprised, WHY?

Hubs:  Sal?  Seriously?  Three pounds in ONE day?!  That's horrible!  AND I slept like TOTAL SHIT last night.  I was up at TWO O'CLOCK in the morning with the worst heartburn ever!

Me:  (hiding under the blankets)  Hehehehehehe....Wow!  *snicker, snicker* That's terrible!  I slept reaaaaallyyyy great!  Like a baby!  I feel refreshed!  Ready to take on the world!

Hubs:  *blank stare*  You're going to write about this on your blog, aren't you?

Me:  Nope.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Can You Tell Me What Aisle The Eardrops Are In?

The Scene:  Last night, picking up a prescription for my Mom at a local pharmacy (HINT:  It's in a store where people are known to wear their pajamas / thongs / mullets in public): 

Snarky Cashier:  Can I help you?

Me:  Yes.  I'm picking up a prescription for my Mother.

Snarky Cashier:  NAME?

Me:  Sophia Petrillo (her alias)

Snarky Cashier:  DATE OF BIRTH?

Me:  May second, nineteen thirty-one.

Snarky Cashier:  HOLD ON...(walks to the rear of the pharmacy...returns two minutes later)  IS THIS PRESCRIPTION FOR YOU?

Me:  Wha?


Me:  Seriously?!

Snarky Cashier:   *rolling her eyes*  YEAH.  SERIOUSLY.  IS THISSSS PRESCRIPTIONNNN FOR YOU?? 

Me:  First of all, calm down and lower your voice.  I'm not deaf!  Second, WHAT PART OF "I'm here to pick up a prescription  for my Mother who was born in NINETEEN THIRTY-ONE" didn't you understand? 

Snarky Cashier:  *insert dirty look*  TEN DOLLARS.

Me:  *insert death glare*  You're welcome.

And I walked away, glaring silently and thinking, I hope that I'm reincarnated as toothpaste so I never have to see that b*tch again.  Seriously.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Making Money! Now, That's Exciting!

This is a real photo from an ebay ad: 

The dude in the picture is advertising his paintball gun for sale. 

He's also advertising something else.

Somebody get him an ice pack.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

It Is What It Is

In an effort to boost my weight loss efforts, I've been reading a lot about incorporating positive affirmations into my daily life.  Apparently, if you believe in the Law of Attraction, projecting positive thoughts into the universe AND believing them, will get you what you want.

To take this theory a step further, I've decided to TRY to rid myself of limiting beliefs and replace them with positive ones. 

Dudes?  This shit is hard.  But, I think I've got it down.  Let me give you an example....

This morning, as I was attempting to run at the town track, I was thinking, "Man, this is so hard.  This sucks dog crap through a straw.  I hate this.  I'm sweating like a hog." 

And then, I caught myself being all negative. 

So, I tried to turn those limiting thoughts into positive ones.  And as I ran, and sweat, and huffed and puffed like Fatty McGee---I changed my thought process and kept repeating things like, "This is AMAZING!  This is FUN!  My butt cheeks are going to look so awesome when they're not dragging on the floor!"

Are you buying it?  Nah.  Me neither.  What a load of poo. 

I think I'll just conclude that even though I will never love to exercise (NEVER, NEVER, NEVER!), I'll have to muddle through and  just do it (You Nike people are so friggin brilliant).

I will, however, go out of my way to do things that will make my home environment more conducive to healthy living and weight loss. 

Like what, you ask? 

Well, I've filled my refrigerator with good foods like fruits, vegetables, and healthy snacks....

AND I got rid of any trigger foods (also known as "red light" foods) that I had in the house, like this stash of rum cake:

(Do us both a favor and DON'T ask me where it went.  Denial is more than just a river in Egypt, y'all.)

Second, I've decided that I am one of those people who NEEDS to weigh myself at home at least once a week.  It kind of helps me gauge where I'm at and keep me in control.  To make this process more hackable, I've transformed my ugly ass, menacing, bathroom scale from this:

To this:

Now, when I weigh in?  My formerly menacing hospital scale greets me with a happy, friendly smile!  AND when it gives me what I consider to be the WRONG answer, I can PUNCH IT IN THE FACE. 

Yeah.  I'd say I've got this positive thinking shit down pat.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Back In The Saddle...Again

This morning, I rolled out of bed with all of the enthusiasm of a woman who's on her way to her yearly pap smear.

I have no real reason for my attitude problem, except for the fact that it's Monday....and it's friggin cold (I hate you, Old Man Winter!)....and I just filled my heating oil tank to the tune of eight hundred and fifty friggin bucks.

I KNOW!!! Can you even believe that shit?!

Anywho, this morning--after dragging my ass out of bed, taking a shower, doing my hair, applying my makeup, and getting dressed, I sat down at the kitchen island to have my anti-stab medication (coffee).  Suddenly, Mr. Happy Pants (Hubs, of course) waltzed into the room....and he looked at me.

Then, he opened his mouth---as if he wanted to say something, closed it, and walked away. 

THEN he came back into the room, looked at me again, opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at me again---this time, tilting his head to the side.

Being the super positive person that I am every morning (shut up), I finally asked, "WHAT?!  What are you looking at?!" 

"Um.  Nothing...nothing..." he replied.  He continued, "Um...I was just wondering why you're crying."

"Huh?"   I questioned.  "I'm not crying.  What are you talking about?!"

"OH.  UH.  Nothing.  If you don't want to tell me why you're crying, you don't have to.  I was just wondering what was wrong...but you don't have to tell me...unless you want to tell me and then you can tell me."  He stammered.

Okay.  Let me just reiterate for y'all.  I WAS NOT CRYING. 

But, I was annoyed...mainly because (A) I had no friggin idea what the crap he was talking about and (B) my anti-stab medication (coffee) had not kicked in, yet.

Finally, I said, "Dude!  I am NOT crying!  What the hell?!  Why do you keep insisting that I'm crying?!  If I was crying, YOU'D KNOW ABOUT IT, HOMEY!"

"Well, WHY ARE YOUR EYES ALL RED, THEN?  Huh?  Answer that question, CRAZY EYES!"  He replied.

Completely annoyed, I replied,  "You don't even know what the hell you're talking about!" 

AND I went into the bathroom to look at myself.


He totally knew what he was talking about.

APPARENTLY, what happened was---this morning when I put my makeup on...UM...WHILE LOOKING IN A MIRROR (seriously)....I accidentally lined my eyes with my red lipliner INSTEAD of my dark brown eyeliner. 

I looked like a Portuguese version of Courtney Love after a long night of hard ass partying, y'all. 

My God.  I am so awesome. 

No wonder you've missed me.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

STRESSED: DESSERTS Spelled Backwards

Hello Peeps!

Just wanted to stop in to thank everyone for the lovely emails.  It's nice to be missed.  Everything is cool here.  I just decided that I needed to take a little time off from the social media circuit.  I've been really busy lately (in a lot of ways), slightly overwhelmed, and feeling like I need to make some changes in my life.

Trust me. They're coming. 

Anyway, I should be back---blogging in full force---next week sometime (Holy crap!  Can you believe that it's almost October already?)  Prepare yourselves.  You will NOT believe the crap that you've missed.

Um.  And for the record, I'd like to confess that my constant pursuit of a smaller ass?  Yeah.  EPIC FAIL.

Hey.  What can I say?  I've been stressed.

So, pass me the fuggin chocolate and give thanks that I'm not turning to vodka, y'all.  WORD.

That's what I call looking on the bright side, people.

Friday, August 19, 2011

For People Pleasers....Who Just Can't Say NO.

Here's a little trick that I've learned...

When you want to manipulate a situation in your favor (and you don't want to have to justify your feelings / say NO / or explain yourself), look at the dumb ass you are trying to con the friend/spouse/family member involved in said situation--square in the eyeballs---and mention a so called revolution. LIKE THIS...

To The Husband: "Dude. Today? You're going to have to clean the house, do the laundry, and eat frozen pizza. I'm going out to get a pedicure, a massage, and a facial. I need to feel refreshed...for when THE REVOLUTION COMES."

To The Relative That You No Likey: "I'm soooo sorry, but I won't be able to attend your boring ass function. I need to stay home to wax various parts of my female anatomy. It's very important that I be well groomed....you know....for WHEN THE REVOLUTION COMES."

To The Lady Who Weighs You In At Weight Watchers: "I'm up two pounds?! Well, in the grand scheme of things, I don't REALLY think that anybody's going to give a crap about the SIZE of my ass...WHEN THE REVOLUTION COMES."

See? It really works!

And before you ask, the answer is NO.

People WILL NOT really believe you.

But, they won't ask questions, either. 

They'll just look at you with confusion in their eyes, thinking... I have no fuggin idea what the hell you are talking about.  And they'll pretty much accept your explanation because of the probability that you appear to have gone balls to the wall crazy.

Whatever works, y'all.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

I'll Be Your Friend, Even If You're An Ass

You ever have one of those days when you reevaluate some of your relationships?  Yeah.  Me, too.  Like yesterday, when I got these responses on my Facebook page, after posting that I was meeting my friend, Deb, for dinner....

Sally Araujo Costa:  Out for a "very healthy" dinner with Deborah D! *snicker*

Jennifer C:   Liar...

Marc D:   I'll be at home...writing my national column...have fun...bitches.

Heather L:   What he said...except I won't be writing my national column...bitches!

Theo S:   Ya...eat dessert, too...bitches...lol

Jennifer C:  Yeah, get fat, bitches!

Heather L:   Oh, SNAP! Lol

Sally Araujo Costa:     Bite me, you assclowns.

Ladies and gentlemen?  It's not what you think.  You see...THESE?  These are my peeps.

I get them and they get me. 

Clearly, I need to work on raising my standards a little.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

For Every Action, There Is An Equal And Opposite Weird Fuggin Answer

Last night, Hubs and I stopped at a liquor store on our way home, to buy a lottery ticket, BECAUSE last night's Powerball jackpot was a little over $220,000,000.  That's TWO HUNDRED TWENTY MILLION MOTHER FRACKING CLAMS.  Yee ha!

This morning, as Hubs was sleepily helping me make our bed, I said to him:

MeI don't even know why we're making the damn bed.


MeWe probably won the lottery, so there's no reason why we should even be up, yet.


MeNo, seriously. WHAT would you do if you found out RIGHT NOW that we REALLY AND TRULY won two hundred twenty million dollars last night?  Really...WHAT WOULD YOU DO RIGHT NOW?

HubsI would shit on the floor.


HubsI don't have to go to the bathroom or anything, but I'd probably be so nervous that I would just shit right here, on the floor.

MeYou just won ALL OF THAT MONEY and the first thing you would do is SHIT on the floor?

HubsThat's right.

MeDude.  Millionaires don't go around crapping their pants.

HubsI would take my pants off, first.

MeWell, that makes me feel soooooo much better.  You'd take your pants off BEFORE taking a mad dump on the carpet .

HubsI'm a millionaire.  I'll buy new carpet.

MeHow about you just run to THE CANIt's only a few feet away.

HubsI'm just being honest.

Me:  *shaking my head*  You're a freak.

HubsYou love me.



*We didn't win.
*He didn't drop a deuce on the carpet. 
*He is weird.

Monday, August 8, 2011

My Birthday: The "Almost Smothered" Husband Edition

Since the last time I was here, I celebrated a birthday.  Bleh.

Here's the recap...

On my birthday, my husband woke me up at the ass crack of the morning and gave me this card:

Immediately, I started screaming, "Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  We're going to Vegas!  We're going to Vegas!  WE'RE GOING TO VEGASSSSSS!!!!!" 

And he was all, "Calm down.  We're not going to Vegas.  It's just a birthday card." 

And I was all, "Um.  Excuse me?  You just gave me the equivalent of a friggin airline ticket!" 

And he was all, "No, I didn't.  I gave you a BIRTHDAY CARD.  But, open it up!  It plays Danke-Schoen!" 

And I was all, "WHOOPEE DING DONGS, DUDE.  I want to go to Vegas." 

And he was all, "Too bad, so sad.  BUT, I got you this, too!" 

And he handed me a bag...

And I swear to Sweet Baby Hay-Zeus, this is what was in it...

I looked at my presents. 

I looked back at him. 

And I grinned...

Not because I was impressed buy his thoughtfulness...But, because I knew that if an awesomer birthday gift DID NOT present itself ?  THAT NIGHT, while he slept, I would (A) use said Silly Putty to block his breathing passages, render him unconscious, AND (B) use the Slinky to do this to him...

Don't fug with me at 6:00am on ANY DAY, let alone on my birthday, dude.  At that time of the morning?  I am perfectly capable of committing heinous acts of a stabbing nature.  Just sayin.

Lucky for him, just as I was tyring to remember where I'd left my sharpest samurai sword, he handed me a watch box.  Inside, was this little gem:

He was all,  "It's a Philip Stein watch.  Oprah gave them away on one of her shows!  And the best thing about it is...IT HAS NATURAL FREQUENCY TECHNOLOGY!  Wearing it will make you feel more relaxed!"

I replied, "Considering I was secretly pondering how to OFF your ass with Silly Putty and a Slinky, I should probably put it on right the hell now.  Good call."

He's still alive. 

And I'm still thirty-nine.  *cough, cough*

It's all good.

Monday, July 25, 2011

The "Guilt" Diet. It Really Works!

This is my niece, Julia.

She's seven, going on thirty.

Saturday night, Hubs and I went out for dinner with her, as well as with a slew of other family members. 

After dinner, we decided to go to an ice cream parlor that's situated near the ocean. 

When we got there, I turned to Julia and asked, "Miss Julia?  What kind of ice cream do you want?" 

She replied, "I don't want any." 

Puzzled, I asked her again, "Huh?  You don't want any?  Are you still full from dinner?"

This time, she stopped, put her hands on her hips and said, "Nope.  It's just that ice cream is NOT my favorite snack.  I LOVE carrots, grapes, and string cheese!"

For a moment, I was utterly speechless.  I mean...What NORMAL kid doesn't love ice cream?

She continued, "ANDDDDDD.....I'm trying to maintain my healthy lifestyle!  THAT'S why I look like THISSSSSS!"  Then, the seven year old version of Vanna Friggin White,  motioned up and down the sides of her body with her hands before running towards the water to play.


I looked at my sister incredulously for a moment, before asking, "Where the FRIG did that kid come from?"  She shook her head and shrugged, as if the mystery was beyond even her.

FYI...In case you're wondering? 

YES.  Julia and I are blood relatives.

And NO.  I didn't eat the damn ice cream, either. 

I felt too guilty

The little shit.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Men Are From Mars. Boys Are From Uranus.

In lieu of going to summer camp, my nephew, Jon (he's ten), has been spending some of his days at our place of business.  To keep him busy, we have outfitted our building with his bike, a gocart, an electric scooter, a designated computer for his use only,  a swing, and books.  Trust me.  The kid's got it made.

One day this week, my husband knocked on my office window and said, "Hey, Sal?!  Can you come in here for a second?  You HAVE GOT to see this!"

When I walked into our production area, I saw this (Click on the photo to enlarge it)....

My friends?  This is my nephew, Jon.  He's playing video games on the computer...while wearing swimming goggles AND BREATHING THROUGH a snorkel.  I'm not really sure why.  Although, we did give him a book for boys that had a fart chapter in it.  Maybe he was blowing gears and didn't want to enhale his own butt bombs

I don't know....

Or, maybe boys are just weird.  They are, in fact, just little men in the making, y'all.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Sometimes "Bite Me" Just Isn't Enough.

Everyday at work, I get tons of pamphlets and brochures aimed at selling me stuff. 

Lots of times, these brochures advertise business seminars that teach people everything from OSHA compliance to how to use software programs.

Today, I received a really interesting brochure for a seminar that I've never been introduced to before.  I thought its topic was really interesting, but I hurled it into the trash because I WAS ABSOLUTELY SURE that I didn't even have to consider partaking in this one...

About an hour later, I was in my office (in the front of the building) talking to a vendor on the telephone, when suddenly I heard a LOUD male voice YELL from the production area (the room right behind my office/desk).  He said, "YOU KNOW WHAT?!  THAT GUY'S AN A**HOLE!  AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE????  HE CAN JUST BITE MY SACK!"

NOW...I'm no expert in appropriate workplace behavior, my friends.

But, I'm puh-retty sure that sack-biting doesn't fit the bill.

I need to go dig a brochure out of the trash, y'all.

Monday, July 18, 2011

"When You Care Enough to Send the Very Best"---Hallmark

Today is my mother-in-law's birthday.

For the last week and a half, I have reminded my husband--SEVERAL TIMES--to buy her a card. 

Yet, this morning, when I asked him where the card was, he shrugged and he said, "Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  Can you pick one up for me when you go out to get coffee?  Um...and make sure it says something NICE." 

Okay, SLACKER.  No problemo.

Even though YOU'RE THE ONE that she pushed out of her HOO-HA forty-seven years ago, I'll take care of it.

So, today? When we go visit her, THIS is the sentimental card that she'll be getting from her loving, firstborn son...*sniffle, sniffle*

I can't wait to witness THEIR special Hallmark moment.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Moon Over Grand Cayman

I'm baaaack!

I know.  You never really knew I was gone because I told you I was going on vacation, yet, was completely vague about when I was going because I'm not an idiot and I know that you should NEVER announce WHEN you are going on vacation on social media networks because while you're gone---enjoying large quantities of rum cake while sitting on a nice, sandy beach (OH.YES.I.DID)---some douche nugget will break into your house and steal your shit. 

Anywho, we went.

We saw.

We ate.

And I?   Well, let's just say that I came back five pounds denser.  Damn fuggin rum cake.

You're probably wondering how my vacation was and if I killed Lou after spending SEVEN FRIGGIN DAYS WITH HIM (Twelve hours a day...but, who the fug was counting?).  In a nutshell?  I DID NOT. 

But, because of him, I have  to classify my trip as (1) FUN, (2) LOVELY, and (3) UGLY...all at the same time.  Allow me to illustrate with photos. 

Let's start with the LOVELY. 

PC (Hubs), me, the bastard Lou, and Linda (the bastard's Lou's wife) went to Grand Cayman for one week.  We stayed on Seven Mile Beach and it was beautiful and amazing:

Seven Mile Beach

Hotel Pool

Our Backyard :)

And now for the FUN!

We visited the turtle farm.

And the iguanas.....

Had fun in the sun....

Para sailing!

500 ft. high! 

Linda & Lou....

The Royal Treatment

Dinner with friends....
Shopping!  Yay! 
FYI...Did you know that George Clooney was the
spokesman for Omega watches?  Me neither! 
I guess he has to fill his time somehow,
now that he's a "free man." 
Hey, George!  Just say NO to whores!

This is our friend, who we met in Cayman.
 He works at the hotel that we stayed at.
His name is Michael Douglas (for real)...and he is soooo freakin funny!

PC, Me, Michael Douglas, Lou, and Linda

And, FINALLY?  Here it is, y'all.  On to the UGLY...(my sincere apologies).

On the first full day of our vacation, Lou and Linda called us into their room.  Apparently, Linda was not impressed with Lou's mad scientist eyebrows, so she was all, "Sally?  Can you trim Louie's eyebrows?" 

Um.  Excuse me?!  Do I look like an animal groomer to you?  Hehehe...

Hairy Beast

Taming the Beast

Brace yourselves...It get's UGLIER...

On day THREE, PC and I went back to our room after a long day of sightseeing and shopping.  When we walked in to throw our shopping bags on the bed, we realized that some sexual deviant had been in our room.  He left THIS (the fuggin pervert)....

Her name is Vivian.

Apparently her 42DDD bra doesn't fit.

Mysteriously,  a picture of the culprit appeared on PC's cell phone (which we had left in the room all day).....


Last BUTT (pun intended) not least, the grossest part of our trip occurred when one morning, there was a knock at our door.  I asked, "Who is it?" And someone responded, "Room service!"  I was all, "WTF?  I didn't order anything...Hmmmm....

When I opened the door, this freak of nature was standing there looking like this....

Ironic that he's carrying a container of nuts, no?

Thank Jesus he was wearing a white towel in the "nugget" area.  The back, however?  Yeah.  It's EXACTLY what you thought....

Moon over Grand Cayman. 


It's gonna take electric shock therapy to remove this image from my brain, y'all. 

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

I Am The Boss Of You

Hubby and I are going on vacation...

To a tropical island....


With Lou ....

I know what you're thinking.  Because thus far?  These are the reactions that I've gotten when I told people about our plan: 

From my Mother:    WHAT?!  A whole week with Lou?!  If you want any peace and quiet, you'd better bring a BIG ROLL OF TAPE to cover his mouth! 

From my sister:     I hope you and Paul have a wonderful, healthy, and safe vacation. Make sure you keep your eyes open with that crazy, bald bastard!

From my friend:    You're going on vacation with Lou?!  Have you been smoking crack?

From random people at work:    I hope nobody gets arrested!

So, in order to make our trip as restful and relaxing as possible---because GOD knows that I need some friggin rest right about now---I told Lou that the ONLY way we would go anywhere with him is if he signed an agreement saying that he would abide by my vacation rules

He said he WOULD NOT. 

However, his wife, Linda---who doesn't want to put up with his crazy ass all by herself, will force him into it.  I guess that means WE'RE IN BUSINESS!

So, here it is....

Sally's Vacation Contract :

1.  Never call my room or knock on my door BEFORE 10:00am...or, I will stab you.

2.  While in my direct view (or indirect...whatever), you will keep your nuggets, peepee area, and/or their  silhouettes completely covered at all times.  ABSOLUTELY NO BANANA HAMMOCKS ALLOWED AT THE RESORT.

3.  You will not tell random strangers that I am your daughter.  If you do, I will sue you for defamation of character.  I mean it, you freak!

4.  Overindulging in alcoholic beverages does not give you carte blanche to moon people.  Keep your ass in your shorts.

5.  When people ask, "Where are you from?"  DO NOT fake drool and tell them that I took you out of "the home" for a one week family vacation.

6.  If you have to blow gears---you gassy, little bastard---walk far, far away.  You're flatulence smells like an animal died up your butt.

7.  Always chew with your mouth closed and NEVER smile while your chewing.   Masticated  rum cake ....It's gross.

8.  For every time you tell me a story that you've already friggin told me, I get to pinch you.

9.  Manboobs.  Not pretty.  Unless you're in the water?  Keep em' covered.

10.  I am the boss. 

That is all.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

You're Old. That Is All.

Howdy, Peeps!  I've missed you!

You're probably wondering WHERE THE HELL I've been, right?  Or, maybe I'm overestimating my importance in your life and you never really realized that I've been missing.  If you're part of the latter group, then you'd better hope that I never win the lottery.  Just sayin...

Anywho, HOLY CRAP!  Do I have stories for you! 

I almost don't even know where to begin.  However, I'm feeling like I need to start with a Lou story.  Here goes....

Okay.  So, Lou---El Primo Pain-O In My Ass-O---turned SIXTY on Friday. 


Last week, his wife--Linda-- threw him an awesome surprise party where I got to "roast" him.  Actually, not only did I get to make fun of him, but I also got to be the emcee...you know...because I'm so shy and all. 

Shut up.

Anywho, here are some highlights...

Give me a microphone and a room filled with one hundred and eighty friggin people, and there's bound to be trouble...


Here's Big Lou, walking into his surprise party.  What a freakin ham...

In order for me to do my portion of the roast, I decided to invest in a visual.  I felt like a "prop" might help me illustrate my point that Lou is a crazy mofo.  So, I ordered this....

Do not adjust your monitor, people.  You are, in fact, seeing a six foot tall Cardboard Lou wearing a diaper.  If that doesn't make you blow chunks, I don't know what will...

Me and hubby with another Cardboard Lou.  This one was much more refined, wearing a suit.  Clearly, I was not responsible for this version.... 

Good God!  Here they are...all three of them together.  That's enough to make anyone run screaming from the room.
I call this photo:  The Sh*theads (Yes.  Those are adult diapers on their heads.)

The Old Goat...getting ready to blow out his candles....

My nephew, Brian, and his fiance, Steph...with Cardboard Louie....Aren't they so cute?

Lou's wife, Linda...telling the crowd how "lucky" she is to have him.  Blechhhhh...Excuse me while I throw up a little in my mouth (Just kidding, Linda!)....

Finally, I just want to say that in addition to being the emcee at the party, I was also a coordinator, a decorator, and part of the clean up crew...AND I demand compensation....

Not in the form of actual cash, but, in the form of psychological counseling.  

You see...throughout the night of the Lou's party, I saw WAY too many tipsy women (AND MEN) dry-humping Cardboard Diaper Louie on the dance floor.

I need help dealing with my recurring nightmares, y'all.