Thursday, January 27, 2011

"All Work And No Play Makes Jack A Dull Boy."---The Shining (1980)

Last night, it snowed here.

AGAIN.

And as of right now, I haven't seen the sun in I don't know how freakin long.

The sky is white. The ground is white. It's been sooo cold here for sooo long, I think I am beginning to snap.

No. Really.

As a matter of fact, this morning? All I could think to post as my Facebook status was this:

Sally Araujo Costa: Redrum. Redrum. Redrum. Redrum. Redrum.

Because apparently? All of this sucktastic snowfall is turning me into Danny Torrance from The Shining.

Don't get too close, people.

I'm a feeling like I seriously need to start b*tchslapping people....especially Mother Nature, that whore.

Anyway, for those of you who live in a nice, warm, snow free part of the world (BITE ME), I thought I would share some current photos of what my yard looks like. Put your Speedo on and pull up a chair.

My Backyard:






My Side Yard:


My Front Yard:


There is a light at the end of my tunnel, though. I'm going on vacation in a few months to a tropical island. And I am sooooooooo flippin excited. As a matter of fact, last night? I was so excited thinking about my trip, that I posted this as my Facebook status:

Sally Araujo Costa: I see rum cake (sorry Amy Jones), frozen daiquiris, and beautiful beaches in my future :)

NOT EVEN ONE FRIGGIN MINUTE LATER, MY TRAINER, RESPONDED TO MY FB POST WITH THIS:

Amy Jones: I see bruises, ibuprofen, and ice packs in your life!

My next workout with her is tonight at 4:30.

CRAP.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

An Ass In Sheep's Clothing


Two weeks ago, I bought a car.

My beloved car, Ina (YES, MY CAR WAS NAMED AFTER THE BAREFOOT CONTESSA, WHO I LOVE BECAUSE SHE EATS BUTTER AND HEAVY CREAM WITH RECKLESS ABANDON. THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME WEIRD. JUST SAYIN...), shit the bed when her transmission went KABOOM. I briefly thought about replacing her transmission, but she was ten years old and had 264,000 miles on her. So, I thought it best to send her to the farm.

YES. I'm referring to the same farm that your parents told you your dog SUDDENLY went to when you were a kid.

Being that I live in Rhode Island, and winters can get pretty harsh here (IT'S 14 DEGREES HERE RIGHT NOW! SOOOOO REFRESHING!), I decided to buy a small SUV. Because you know what? As much as I loved Ina? SHE SUCKED MAJOR ASS in the snow. She had rear wheel drive, people. And utilizing THAT in the snow is like going on a suicide mission.

To begin my car search, I went online and perused some vehicle selections that were available at a few local car dealerships. Fairly quickly, I found TWO that I was interested, so Hubby and I made our way to both places to analyze the vehicles, their options, and the pricing (OUCH! CARS ARE SOOO FLIPPIN EXPENSIVE!).

At the first dealership, we were barely out of our car, when this car salesman---who was dressed in a fancy, schmancy suit---came over and asked us if we needed help. I told him that I had seen a specific can online and asked if it was still available. Immediately, he replied, "Oh, yeah. It's here. It has 3,000 miles on it so it's LIKE NEW. Let me get a license plate for it and you can take it for a ride."

Yay! I was so excited!

After a few minutes, he came back and the three us took the car for a spin.

When we got back from our ride, we went into SalesDude's office and began negotiating (OR SO I THOUGHT). That's when he basically told me that I would get a very small amount of money for my trade-in AND he wasn't coming down on the price of the new car...AT ALL. NOTHING. NADA. ZILCH.

Me: Um...So, the BEST price on that car is what the sticker says?

SalesDude: Well, you know, we don't mark up our cars that much and blah, blah, blah, and ...

Me: *STANDING* Okay. Give me car keys. We're done here.

SalesDude: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Me: I'm not paying full price for a car. AND I don't have time for this shit. GIVE ME MY CAR KEYS.

SalesDude: I'll be right back.

In comes the BIG CHEESE...

Big Cheese SalesDude: How can we help you today?

Me: WE CAN HELP ME BY GIVING ME BACK MY CAR KEYS!

Big Cheese SalesDude: I thought you wanted to buy a car!

Me: I do! But, I'm not paying full price for a car! I'm not a jackass.

Big Cheese SalesDude: Well, how much do you want to pay for it?

Me: WHAT'S YOUR BEST PRICE?

Big Cheese SalesDude: HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT TO PAY?

Me: GIVE ME MY CAR KEYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Big Cheese Sales Dude: Okay, okay. Here they are. Calm down!

Me: *To Hubby* Let's get out of here....

FAST FORWARD TO 9:00am, THE NEXT MORNING...

*RING, RING*

Me: Hello?

SalesDude: Sally?

Me: Yeah?

SalesDude: This is Bill from XYZ Nissan. How are you?

Me: Fine. WHAT?!

SalesDude: Well, we really got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I could see that you wanted to negotiate. But, I dropped the ball. I'm not used to selling NISSANS.

Me: Um...You work at a Nissan dealership. That doesn't make any friggin sense.

SalesDude: Yeah...Um...Well...Uh...

Me: So, what do you want?!

SalesDude: Why don't you come back? We'll talk.

Me: There's nothing for us to talk about AND I don't want to buy a car from you. You're attitude stinks. *CLICK*

FAST FORWARD AGAIN....2 FREAKIN HOURS LATER....

*RING, RING*

Me: Hello?

SalesDude: Sally?

Me: Yeah?

SalesDude: It's me, Bill.

Me: *SILENCE*

SalesDude: Bill...FROM XYZ NISSAN.

Me: OH.GOOD.GOD. AGAIN???? REALLY????!

SalesDude: *ALL COCKY AND SHIT, LIKE HE WAS DOING ME A FRIGGIN FAVOR* JUST SO YOU KNOW, THIS IS THE LAST TIME I'M GONNA CALL YOU! THIS IS IT! We can come down $500.00 on the price of the car! BUT THAT'S IT!

Me: *CLICK*

FAST FORWARD TO THE NEXT FUGGIN MORNING AND I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING YOU, PEOPLE!

*RING, RING*

Me: Hello?

SalesDude: Sally? It's me, Bill...from XYZ Nissan. Don't hang up!

Me: WHAT THE HELL? I thought you weren't going to call me anymore!

SalesDude: Yeah, well, I talked to my boss and he said we can come down another $200.00 bucks.

Me: That's not enough.

SalesDude: WHAT?! WHAT?! I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS DEAL FOR TWO DAYS! TWO DAYS! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

Me: I want you to stop calling me AND I'd like you to stick that car up your ass. DON'T MAKE ME GET A RESTRAINING ORDER, BILL.

*CLICK*

Can you believe the gall of that assclown?

HE was pissed off at ME because I didn't want to (A) give him my trade-in for FREE AND (B) because I expected him to be nice AND take money off the sticker price of a new-ish car.

Apparently, expecting a little friendly negotiation when forking over craploads of money for a new car, is a big faux pas.

Just goes to show you, Peeps. Any man can wear a fancy, schmancy suit and tie.

But no matter what? You just can't polish a turd.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

By Next Week, I'll Probably Be In Traction

Every Saturday, at 4:30pm, I take my mother to church (unless I'm sunning my arse somewhere on vacation---then, it's my brother's job). Usually, we walk in and she marches straight up the middle aisle and sits way up front, on the left.

I, in turn, take my sweet time getting to my seat---talking, schmoozing, telling jokes, and comparing sports scores with the people around me. I'm a ham like that.

This past Saturday was no different. My mother was already sitting down in her pew when I stopped to talk to some of my church peeps. This is the conversation that ensued (names changed to protect the innocent):

Me: Helloooooo, amigos!

Mary: Hey! I read your blog. I saw the pictures of your TRAINER!

Me: Did you? Yeah...She's trying to kill me.

Mary: Really?

Me: Yep. I'm convinced. Last week, I couldn't unbend my arms. This week, my guts hurt.

Mary: Wow! So she's tough?

Me: SHE'S.TRYING.TO.KILL.ME.

Mary: Wow.

Just then, Peep #2---Tom, chimed in. He's in his 60's and sits with his wife and his friend, Mary every week...

Tom: What the heck do you go to a trainer for, anyway?

Mary: BECAUSE she wants to wear a coconut bra.

Tom: *confused*

Me: Because I need to lose weight!

Tom: Well, you don't see what I see. Go home and take another look in a mirror! You're hair....You're face...You're body...I THINK YOU'RE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.

Tom's Wife: He doesn't like women that are too skinny. He like a little meat on their bones.

Me: Well, alrighty then....

As I walked away and approached my seat--next to my mother, I couldn't help but conclude a few things.

One? What Tom said to me---that I was PERFECT just the way I am---was possibly the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me (excluding my husband). And if I was twenty years older and/or Tom was twenty years younger and if neither one of us was married? I STILL wouldn't marry Tom because he's NY Yankees fan. Sorry...There's just some sh*t I can't get past.

Second? I've never thought of myself as meaty before. And I kind of like it!

And finally? Two weeks ago, I couldn't unbend my arms. Last week? My guts hurt. This week? My legs are complete junk (mainly my thighs) and I'm walking around like I pitched a major loaf in my high-cut briefs.

Dudes, SERIOUSLY...I think my trainer IS trying to kill me.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Even Bimbos Need To Shop

I went to the mall on this frigidly, cold morning (It's 22 degrees here!) to return a present. While I was there, I discovered two things.

One?

If you wait long enough, JUSTICE WILL PREVAIL. I present to you, my dear friends:

MAN SPANX (Suck it in, Fellas!)


And two?

When I wasn't paying attention, SLUTS R' US came town:





Call me old fashioned, but, I prefer my lady parts sans frostbite. Just sayin...

Friday, January 14, 2011

The Smell Of Pork Rinds

Yesterday, at one of my weekly beatdowns training sessions with Amy Jones, she asked my workout group about support systems. She questioned, "Are people being supportive of your weight loss efforts? Do you notice people trying to sabotage you?"

As she posed these questions, I immediately concluded that I am one of the lucky ones.

My husband, the person I spend most of my time with, is SUPER supportive.

As a matter of fact, except for NOT getting his ass beat by Amy Jones not going to the gym, like I do, he's eats exactly what I eat. Of course, I do all of the cooking in our house, so it's either that, or starve to death....not like I leave him much choice.

On the other end of the support spectrum?

There's LOU.

Lou is also trying to lose weight.

And? Well...We sort of have an unspoken weight loss competition thingy going on between us (I'M GOING TO BURY HIM!).

That's why, last week, when I texted him this picture of what I was having for lunch:



And he responded with a text that said this:

Mmmmm...Sally? Wouldn't you rather have this? YUMMY!

I just knew that my unwavering conclusion---that LOU IS AN EVIL, LITTLE ASSCLOWN---is once again cemented in truth.

By the way?

As I type this post, you will NEVER guess where Lou is RIGHT NOW.

He's having his fur coat lasered off. Observe what I'm talking about, people... (WARNING: Put down your breakfast or you will heave!):



Hmmm...Is it me?

Or can you also smell the odor of burnt bacon in the air?

Hehehehe....

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Snow Blows


I am not a fan of this time of the year. As a matter of fact, I am a firm believer that SNOW sucks ass.

While I'll admit that the first, fresh snowfall is beautiful to look at for a minute...After that? You can pretty much shove it. Seriously.

Rhode Island's cold, wretched winters always make me dream of a place that I love to visit, the island of Grand Cayman. The crystal blue waters and beautiful sandy beaches, make me want to jump ship, ditch my responsibilities, and run away forever.

There's a town in Grand Cayman called Hell. For reals, people.

Once, when I was there, I thought it would be funny to send my parish priest a postcard postmarked from Hell. And of course, ME BEING ME, I included the most sincere, heartfelt note that I could muster. It went something like this:

Dear Father J,

I am sending you this postcard from Hell. FYI? Your people are liars! THIS PLACE IS AWESOME! They have rum cake AND frozen margaritas here! Save a soul! Pass it on!

XO,
Sally


In case you're wondering? Thus far, I'VE STILL NOT been excommunicated.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Dontcha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me?

You ever have one of those days when you make a complete ass of yourself but you're the only one who doesn't know it?

No? Just ME then?

Okay, you big, fat liars. Whatever...

I'll let you live vicariously through the brilliance that is Sally Costa.

On Saturday, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I'd been working out. I'd been eating healthy. I was feeling like my body felt stronger and leaner.

To celebrate my new attitude, I decided to wear a new pair of pants and sweater that I got for Christmas. I was sure I was going to look soooo freakin cute.

Before getting dressed, I thought to myself, "Hey! I should wear those new Spanx that I got last summer! They'll totally smooth me out and make me look leaner than I already feel!" So, I held my breath and pulled those suckers on. Then, I proceeded to get dressed.

Now, let me just say this.

There are lots of varieties of Spanx. And I'm sure that some of them are probably quite comfortable.

But, the ones I had on felt weird.

They starting the body fat suckage process right under my boobs and ended like a tourniquet---mid thigh.

Holy crap! Can you say PORK SAUSAGE?

Anywho, after I got dressed, I put my make-up on and ran out the door.

As the day progressed, my effin body sausage started rolling down to my waist. WTF?

Then?

Every time my legs moved one way, the friction within my "casing" made my pants move the opposite way.

DUDES! I was so friggin uncomfortable!

Around 1:00pm, I couldn't effin take it anymore. I had to take that shit off or I was gonna hurt somebody.

So, I drove to work---because that was the nearest clean bathroom I could use--- walked in, said hello to Hubby and my father-in-law, and headed straight for the bathroom so I could take off my Spanx before I exploded. WHEW.

When I was leaving, I stuffed the Spanx into my coat pocket (didn't want my father-in-law to see me with undergarments in my hand) and walked back to my car. Just as I was driving away, Hubby ran out and asked, "Sal? Can you do me a favor? Can you return my computer monitor to Best Buy?"

"Yeah. Okay. Put it in my trunk." I replied.

Fast forward to fifteen minutes later...

I'm in Best Buy. I've returned Hubby's computer monitor and am browsing around a little to see what's new in modern technology. I notice that several people are staring at me. And I'm all like, "WOW. I must be having a great hair day. People are admiring me!"

Um...NOT SO FAST, dumbass.

You see...

When I finally left the store, walked up to my car, and saw my reflection in the car's window, I finally figured out what everyone was looking at.

They WERE NOT admiring my cuteness, people. No sirree, Bob.

Instead, they were staring at the CRAZY CHICK whose Spanks legs were hanging out of her gah-damn coat pocket.

So.Fugging.Lovely.

Um...Anyone out there looking for a role model? An epitome of grace?

Well, look the other way, people.

Cuz I'm a freakin mess.

Seriously.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Superstition

I was going to skip this blog post because my friggin arms are in severe pain (Thank you, Amy Jones!) and it hurts to freakin type. But, I'm taking one for the team and working through it, cuz that's how I roll, dudes.

Okay. So, before we mosey on further through this month, I want to tell you about how I started my new year.

EVERY new year starts the same way. My superstitious Mother (the nearly 80 year old, Portuguese Sophia Petrillo) calls me on New Year's Eve and gives me a list of crap that I HAVE TO DO in order to start the year off right (in her opinion). This year's requests went like this...

NEW YEAR'S EVE...

*RING, RING*

Me: Hello?

Sophia: Sally?

Me: Hi Ma.

Sophia: *insert Portuguese accent here* I calling to tell you to make shuwa (make sure) dat Paul is da first person to walk in your house after midnight! If a lady is the first person to walk in a house in da new year, it's BAD LUCK.

Me: Okay, Ma. I'll make Paul go outside and walk back into the house after midnight.

Sophia: Okay. Make shuwa!

Sally: I will. Bye.

Sophia: Okay, bye.

TWO MINUTES LATER...

*RING, RING*

Me: Hello?

Sophia: Sally?

Me: Yes, Ma?

Sophia: Make shuwa when Paul walks into da house, he puts his right foot first! You wanna start da year on da right foot!

Me: Okay, Ma. Paul will be the FIRST person to walk INTO MY HOUSE on New Year's Day. HE WILL WALK IN WITH HIS RIGHT FOOT FIRST. Is that all?

Sophia: Yeah. Dat's all.

Me: Okay. Bye, Ma.

TWO MINUTES LATER...

*RING, RING*

Hubby: Sal, it's your mother...AGAIN!

Me: For the love of all that is sacred and holy! WHAT NOW?

Me: HELLO?

Sophia: Sally?

Me: YES, MA?!

Sophia: When Paul walks into da house after midnight wid his right foot first, he has to throw money into da house, too.

Me: WHAT?!

Sophia: Foe-a good luck...So you can have a lot of money in da New Year.

Me: YOU'RE MAKING THIS UP NOW!

Sophia: No sir! Dis is true! You betta do it!

Me: OKAY, MA. Paul, A MAN, will be the first person to walk into my house in the new year. He will walk in with his RIGHT FOOT FIRST. AND he will throw money into the house as he is stepping in! You happy now?

Sophia: Yes.

Me: Okay. Bye, Ma.

Sophia: Bye. BUT MAKE SHUWA YOU DO DIS TINGS! Or you not gonna have good luck in da new year! Okay?

Me: ALRIGHTTTTTT! WE'RE DOING IT! I PROMISE! GEEZ!

Sophia: Okay, bye!

Me: Bye!

*CLICK*

Fast forward to the next morning...

Hubs: Okay. So, let me get this straight. I have to be the first person to walk into our house today, or we will have bad luck?

Me: Well, SHE said a MAN. Doesn't necessarily have to be you, I guess. But, you're all we've got. So GET CRACKIN! Oh, and remember to walk in with your right foot first! Oh, AND you have to throw money into the house as you're walking in!

Hubs: Your Mother is making this shit up.

Me: Maybe. But, I'm not taking any friggin chances! So, get your ass outside, Mr. Lucky!

And so he did.....



Better be nice to me y'all.

I'll hook you up when I win the BIG ONE.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

How Many Arm Muscles Do You Use When You Wipe Your Butt?

Warning: I am going to share TMI with you because that's how I roll. Learn from me, people.

Okay. I'd like to begin this post by telling you about some of the things that I had trouble doing this morning.

Check it:

1. Wiping myself after I peed.
2. Brushing my teeth.
3. Holding my hairdryer.
4. Backing my car up.
5. Carrying my pocketbook.

And before you ask? NO. I'm not sick.

But, I may be crazy.

In a nutshell, here's the deal. I've decided to put Operation Ass Shrinkage into full swing.

Not only am I carefully monitoring what I eat and trying to make healthier food choices, y'all. But THIS TIME? I'm also stepping up the exercise.

You are not even going to believe this, people. But, I---SQUEAMISH SALLY COSTA---lover of all things chocolate, have given it all up to join a TEN WEEK fitness challenge.

This challenge basically involves me meeting with a trainer three times a week for a series of personalized workouts that push me physically beyond any limits that I have ever known. Seriously.

Yesterday, was my first session---focusing on the upper body using weights (OUCH! MY FUGGIN ARMS HURT LIKE A MOFO!).

I assumed--- since I had never met my trainer before, that she would sort of take it easy on me...you know...ease me in.

I was sooooo flippin wrong.

Instead, she pushed me to keep moving, even when I thought I couldn't MOVE ANOTHER FUGGIN MUSCLE---by saying things like, "Get comfortable with being uncomfortable!" And, "There is no FUN in fitness!" And, "Focus! Burning is good!"

Now, before I go any further, I will admit that perhaps during this session, I may have BRIEFLY envisioned covering the trainer's mouth with duct tape.

But, honestly? That's a step up for me!

You all know HOW MUCH I LOVE MY TASER, right?

And I swear! I didn't even think, for one minute, about using it on her!

NOT EVEN ONCE!

Dudes! How impressive is that?

Anywho, I can't end this post without showing you some pictures of my trainer (she said I could). So, here she is....

This is Amy Jones:




She'll be the one kicking my ass for the next ten weeks.

Pray for me.

Oh, AND? Pray for her.

SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S GETTING INTO, EITHER.

COCONUT BRA OR BUST, PEEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(If you live in Southeastern Massachusetts or Rhode Island and would like to get your ass kicked by Amy Jones, too, CLICK HERE for more information.)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

The Devil Works At Hershey

The following telephone conversation took place yesterday between me and my sister, Natty. When I hung up the phone, I felt like singing THIS.

*RING, RING*

Me: Hello?

Natty: Hello PRINCESS!

Me: Hello Natalia.

Natty: Just wanted to ask you a question! Guess where THIS LITTLE PORKER is going?

Me: Hmmmm. I don't know. Where?

Natty: I'm on my way to Weight Watchers!

Me: Did you read my blog today? Are you mocking me, Natty?

Natty: NO! I'm going back because I put on TWELVE pounds! Damn it!

Me: *sigh* I feel your pain, Sista.

Natty: And in anticipation of my return to Weight Watchers today, GUESS WHAT I DID LAST NIGHT?

Me: I can only imagine.

Natty: I ate THREE QUARTERS of a bag of HERSHEY'S KISSES.

Me: Sweet Jesus! There's no mistaking that we are related!

Natty: You've got that right!

Me: I'm blogging about this conversation tomorrow. AND? I'm using your real name! Your friend, Bob, is going to love it (HOW'S IT HANGIN, BOB?)!

Natty: FINE WITH ME, PRINCESS!!!

Yes, people. Not only are Natty and I both STRIKINGLY BEAUTIFUL AND SHY (hehehehehe), but we also share the constant pursuit of smaller asses.

Misery loves company, y'all. Might as well share said misery with the people you love :)

Monday, January 3, 2011

AGAIN.

Happy New Year, My Friends!!!!!!!

You are NEVER going to guess where I'm going today!

NEVER.NEVER.NEVER.NEVER.

Ready?

I, along with many of my fellow chunky butts, am going to Weight Watchers! HOLLA!!!

I know. I am such a freakin cliche.

So, yesterday, I was out car shopping with the hubby because my car, Ina, is shitting the bed. Yes. My car is named after the Barefoot Contessa. And NO. I do not need therapy.

Ina is a ten year old Lexus GS300 and she has TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FOUR THOUSAND MILES! Can you even believe that shit?

Anywho, yesterday, Hubs and I took a brief break from car shopping because I was feeling like I wanted to stab the car salesman and I didn't want to disappoint my Mother by making her have to visit me in jail on the second day of the year.

So, we took a brief sanity break and went into this all you can eat chicken restaurant to have lunch. That's where we walked past a cheesy gift shop and saw this:



Immediately I thought...WHAT THE F*&% HAPPENED, INDEED!

So, hi-ho hi-ho, it's back to Weight Watchers I go. Bleh.....

Because seriously?

I KNOW that abundance is a wonderful thing.

But, how many effin chins do I really need? Damn it.