Tuesday, September 3, 2013

A Perv Among Us

I was minding my own business at work today, thinking only extremely pure and religious thoughts *AHEM*, when I received a letter from the treasurer of my business condo association. It read:

"Acme Sanitation has brought to my attention that materials are being improperly disposed of into our septic system.  These materials can cause the system to backup and become clogged.  Please see the attached invoice for more details."---Joe Smith, Treasurer

Hmmm....Why didn't he mention what the materials were in the letter?

So, I dug around in the envelope for more information and I found this....

Then, because I am the consummate professional that you expect me to be, I ran into the production area and yelled, "Holy crap!  There are PERVS among us!  Hide your kids! Hide your wife! Hide your husband!"

And the guys were all, "What the hell?"

So, I showed them the letter and then, because they are consummate professionals, they all started taking bets on what neighbors they thought were bumping uglies during work hours and we came to the consensus that somebody's probably having an affair, y'all.

That's when I realized that perhaps collectively, we---being the consummate professionals that we are---should probably pay a tad bit more attention to the OTHER piece of mail that we received today...

Because I'm pretty sure that if we owned a Fortune 500 company (we are sooooo far from it), talking about wieners at work would probably be considered inappropriate behavior....as is, boinking your coworker in the employee terlet, I suppose.

But, that's just an assumption, y'all....

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Than God He's Not A Librarian

On Saturday, my husband offered to take me to an outdoor book sale at the Chase-Cory House, not far from where I live.  I usually attend this book sale every year, but this year, I was so super busy and crunched for time---overseeing a huge construction project at Sophia Petrillo's house (the Mama)---that I decided I wasn't in the mood to browse.  Actually, I had a stress induced migraine and the thought of looking through old books in the hot sun, made me want to vomit.

As we drove to Sophia's together, to witness what looked like a bunch of dudes testing missiles on her house, the following conversation ensued...

Hubby:  Why don't we go to the book sale for a little while?

Me:  Not into it today.  I need to be at my mother's.

Hubby:  How about just an hour?

Me:  No, thanks.  I really need to get to my mother's.  It's raining tar shingles over there.

Hubby:  Are you sure?  You love that book sale!

Me:  Yeah.  I'm sure.  Thanks, anyway.

Hubby:  I don't know.....I think we should go for just a little while.  It'll make you feel better.

Me:  Seriously, dude. My mother's house is a disaster.  I need to get there ASAP so I can be the buffer between her and the contractors.  She.Will.Drive.Them.Nuts.

Hubby:  Fine. But, when you miss out on finding a first edition of The Man and the Whale, you'll be SORRYYYY!

Me:  A first edition of THE WHAT? 

Hubby:  THE MAN AND THE WHALE...You always hear about people scoring first editions of old classics at book sales and yard sales for wicked cheap money.

Me:  The Old Man and The Sea?

Hubby:  NO. THE MAN AND THE WHALE. You must've read it.  You went to college.

Me:  Ummm.....Moby Dick?

Hubby:  Oh, wait.....Is that what it is?


Hubby:  Oh, Jesus. Here we go....


*In related news, if you'd like to purchase a copy of Paul Costa's The Man and the Whale, you won't find it at Amazon.com, cuz that shit don't exist, y'all.

**In even more related news, I went to a bridal shower on Sunday (more about that later).  While there, I was asked to write down--on a 3x5 index card (A) my name and how many years I've been married and (B) some advice on what makes a successful marriage.  Easily, I filled out both sides of the card.  But the first thing I wrote was:

"Make each other laugh."

My husband does that for me all the time....even when he's not trying to. 

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Gifts That Suck: The Birthday Edition

A week and a half ago, I celebrated my forty-fourth birthday.

Ugh.  Where the hell has the friggin time gone?

I swear, it seems like just yesterday, I was whining over turning forty and grumbling about my sisters posting my picture on the obituary page of the local paper (bitches).

Crooked bangs courtesy of my sister, Natty, and her madshitty hairdressing skills.

Anyway, because I received such an overabundance of f*cking lame unique gifts, I thought I would share my wares with you, my imaginary internet friends.  Read em', weep, and control your jealousy, people.

Gift #1---Redneck Book Bag (I mean, really?)

Okay.  I'll say one thing.  My name is Sally Costa and I am a book addict. Seriously, there are books in EVERY.SINGLE.ROOM. of my house.  I love, love, love, them.  That being said, I wouldn't carry anything is this queer book bag, let alone my beloved livros, because (A) I have standards...and (B) I have teeth.

Gift #2---Doobage Cookies (for real)
Now, some of you questionable people (READ: Dead Heads) might be saying, "Hey, duuuuuude.  Those cookies are bossssss."  (Um...Is that what the cool kids are saying these days?  I wouldn't know because I am a dork.)

To you I say, thisgirl's not interested in pot cookies because (A) I'm already high on life and (B) Coconut is effin disgusting (One of the only foods that I will not eat). Blech....

BUT NO WORRIES, OFFICER.  Rest assured that I have properly disposed of said assumingly illegal cookies in an appropriate manner.  ALSO, as the president of the company that I co-own with Hubby, I've made an executive decision to temporarily SUSPEND all random drug testing.  *ahem*

Gift #3---Every gal wants a pretty journal, no?

Um. NO.

Frieda Kahlo's been shanked, y'all...by a shit ton of nails.

I understand that in her paintings, she often depicted herself in these kinds of morbid situations (being stabbed, having her heart ripped out, etc...).

I'm no expert in art interpretation, but if I had to guess, I'd say that Frieda probably could have benefited from some Coconut Ganja Cookies (and extensive laser hair removal). Geesh....

To conclude this post, I'd like to point out that because I feel like I've grown so much--emotionally--since turning forty-four, I've decided that I'm not going to out the jackass "friend" who gave me these f*cking tasteless gifts.

As a matter of fact, I think the best course of action is to not be wasteful, utilize what I can, and give away the rest. 

On that note, THIS is the first entry in my Frieda Kahlo journal: 

 Feel free to form your own hypothesis.

Thursday, May 9, 2013


I know how important it is to get away....to take a much needed vacation from the daily grind, before you feel like mental exhaustion will overrule your mind (and body) and you start stabbing people, only in your head-hopefully.

That being said, when you go on vacation, the people who you are friends with at home are happy for you (at least, I know I am). 

However, those people back home?  Their lives will not stop because you are not there. They are still working, paying bills, doing chores, and juggling the stresses of everyday life. 

And to be frank?  They don't really give a crap what kind of a time you're having because they are too BUSY to care.  So, when you keep sending them texts and pictures from your vacation destination of you floating around in the ocean half nekkid (while they are sweating their balls off at 8 o'clock at night--after real work--cutting the grass at their 82 year old mother's house) or drinking tropical beverages with random, drunk people you've never met before (while they are at the doctor's office getting versed on their new heart medication)?  They just want to tell you to go bang your ankles...because like I said before, THEY'RE BUSY.

And when you continue to send queer texts (even though you've been warned), eventually, THIS is what's going to happen...

Day 1:
Douche-Canoe:  Look at us in the pool!  So beautiful here!
Me:  That's nice.  Hope you're having a good time. 

Day 2:
Douche-Canoe:  Look at this giant donut we bought!  So delicious!
Me:  Working.  Stop texting me.

Day 3:
Douche-Canoe:  Hanging out with these girls on the beach! (sends picture of scantily clad hosers)
Me:  Grocery shopping. Stop texting me. 

Day 4: 
Douche-Canoe:  Look at this view from our balcony!  Isn't it amazing?
Me:  Good for you.  At the doctor's office.  Stop texting me.

Day 5:
Douche-Canoe:  We are at the Ritz-Carlton, having breakfast.  It is beautiful here!
Me:  We ate at McDonalds.  Fuck off.

For the record, I'm not jealous.  I'm just busy, WORKING...so I can save my money to go on vacation, where you'll never hear a gahdamn peep from me :)

Monday, May 6, 2013

Kicking Ass & Taking Names: Portuguese Old Lady Style

Last Thursday was Sophia Petrillo's 82nd birthday (or as my husband calls her, The Mama).  In our family, Sophia is kind of like the Godfather, except she doesn't own any guns, which is a good thing because some lady--who keeps letting her dog shit on the sidewalk if front of her house--would have gotten shot in the ass by now.

In the last few months, Sophia has had some health issues (diagnosed with Epilepsy) and has been extremely verbal about how much aging sucks.  She's not taking it lightly and she's fighting it tooth and nail, y'all.  The following is a conversation that took place in her hospital room during a recent stay.  Several of my siblings were present....

Hospital Check-In LadyHello Sophia!  How are you?


Hospital Check-In LadyYou 're not old!  You look so beautiful for your age!


Hospital Check-In LadySophia, I need to ask you some questions.  Is that OK?


Hospital Check-In LadyI understand that your primary language is Portuguese. Would you like me to get you a translator?

SophiaNo.  My chi-dren gonna help me.

Hospital Check-In LadyOh. OK.  Let's see...How old are you?


Hospital Check-In LadyWow!  Eighty-one!  Good for you! You look amazing!


Hospital Check-In LadyWhere do you live?

Sophia:  *accurately gives address*

Hospital Check-In LadyDo you live alone?

SophiaYes, but my son live in apartamente upstayas from me.

Hospital Check-In LadyAre you abused at home?

Sophia:  *looks around the room, puzzled*

Hospital Check-In LadySophia, ARE YOU AFRAID AT HOME?  Does anybody abuse you or hit you at home?

Sophia:  *looking at my brother*  HUH?

My Brother:  *speaking Portuguese*  Ma, the lady wants to know if you are afraid of us.  Do we abuse you or hit you?

Sophia:  *a look of disbelief across her face*  MY CHIDREN NO HIT ME.  I KILL DEM FIRST.

My SisterShe's not kidding.

Hospital Check-In LadyWell alrighty, then.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Let's Talk About Sex---Salt-n-Pepa, 1991

The following is a recent conversation that I had with Lou (El Pain-o in My Ass-o) at dinner.  I CAN'T MAKE THIS SHIT UP, Y'ALL.

The Setting:  A Sushi Restaurant
The Cast:  Lou, his wife--Linda, Hubby, and Moi
The Scene:  Discussing Lou and Linda's recent vacation to Florida

Me:  So, you had a nice time in Florida?

Lou:  Yeah.  We had a really nice time.  The weather was beautiful.

Me:  That's nice.

Lou:  You know what we learned down there?

Me: What?

Lou:  Apparently, there's been a very high incidence of STD'S going around in senior communities.

Me:  Huh?

Lou:  Yep. I guess with the introduction of pills like Cialis and Viagra, there's been an increase in the spread of sexually transmitted diseases down there.  As a matter of fact, I heard that there's been a 60% increase, in the last year alone, of older people contracting SHAMALIA (Shuh-mahl-yuh).  Unbelievable!




Lou:  Duh! It's a sexually transmitted disease, dummy!

Me:  No it isn't, jackhole!  Anybody else at this table EVER heard of Shamalia?

Hubby:  Nope.

Linda:  *blank stare*

Me:  Hmmm...Nobody, else has ever heard of it.  Do you know why?  HELLO? ANYBODY?

Hubby:  *blank stare*

Linda:  *blank stare*

Lou:  *big, fat, blank stare*

Me:  Maybe because it's called CHLAMYDIA.  Not, SHAMALIA, you bonehead.

Lou:  Really?

Me:  YES. Really.

Lou:  Hey!  Don't blame me! I went to a vocational high school!  BEFORE THIS, I'd only heard of V.D. and CRABS!  You went to the same school, Paul.  Tell her!

Paul:  I'm not getting involved.

Me:  Smart move, Homey.

Epilogue:  The newest chapter in my life: Teaching Sex Ed to old perverts. Awesome.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Margaritas and Vajayjays

We all have friends that we don't see as often as we'd like to.  Yet, when we finally get together with those friends, it kinda feels like time has stood still...and you seem to pick up right where you last left off.  My friend, Debbie, and I have that kind of a relationship.  We've been friends since we were four years old and have remained in each other's lives throughout the years---even when things seemed way too busy or totally off kilter for one, or both of us.

Since we haven't seen each other in a few months, we were finally able to get together on Monday night for a "girls only" Mexican dinner and to celebrate our belated Christmas. 

Our conversation inadvertently turned to this....

Me:  Ugh.  I have an appointment with the gynecologist tomorrow.

Deb:  Yuck.

Me:  I know.  I hate it.

Deb:  Me, too.

Me:  Last year, the stupid doctor tried to peddle some birth control bullshit called Mirena. You ever heard of it?

Deb:  Hmmm...No.

Me:  He was all, "It's so easy to use!  I can insert it (YOU KNOW WHERE) right here in the office and all you have to do is keep monitoring the string."

Deb:  The string?

Me:  Yeah, some bullshit about a string hanging out of my hoo-ha and how I'd have to keep checking on it to make sure that it was still there or whatever.  I'm sure it was probably invented by a man who wouldn't dream about walking around with a rope hanging out of his wiener. Damn it.

Deb:  A STRING?  What the f*ck do we look like? Piñatas?!

Me:  I KNOW, RIGHT?!  I was all, "Look dude, I'm not walking around with a string hanging out of anywhere, let alone monitoring it for changes in length or location or whathaveyou.  I'm not a gahdamn weedwacker."


Me:  Then I told him about how last year, Paul asked me to help him cut down the weeds in the driveway and the stupid thingy wasn't working right, so I was all, "WHAT THE HELL?  THIS WEEDWACKER ISN'T WORKING!"  And Paul was all, "Did you check the string?"  F*CK THAT.

Deb:  That's just GROSS.

Me:  Exactly.

Girlfriends are awesome.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Like Hair On Soap

I've got some good news AND some bad news.

Today, I'm announcing the winners of my give-a-way!  Whoo hoo!

But not before making you sit through a most uncomfortable blog update. 

Before I begin, put your Cheerios down.  I'd rather not get blamed for you barfing your milk all over your keyboard. 

So, a few weeks ago, someone who I am friends with on Facebook, tagged me in the following picture and asked, "Hey, Sally?  Is this your friend, Lou?"  Mind you, this woman has NEVER, ever met Lou in person.  She has only read about him on this blog.

Hmm....Is it or isn't it?  You be the judge.
After analyzing the above picture for an entire two seconds, I responded, "Uh....I think we both know it's entirely possible." After all, we all know that he loves to flaunt his bits in public...

"The Real Lou"
He wasn't wearing undergarments.
 I'm still in therapy.
Plus?  He WAS in California recently.  I wouldn't put it past him to wander all about the West Coast flaunting his San Francisco Treats.  I just thank Jesus that if it was him, I wasn't there to see that shit in person (FYI...He says it's not him).

This reminds me.....To all of you sickos who have asked about him?  Lou is just fine.  And he's still a total pain in my ass. 

As a matter of fact, you are not going to believe what he did, y'all.  This is BIG TIME.

Lou used to tell me (all the time) that he couldn't understand why I lived in Rhode Island.  Then he'd make his case against the Ocean State by pointing out that the politics are corrupt,  the taxes are high, and the people there are really eccentric (Read:  Nuts).

But THEN?  What did he do?

Out of the clear blue friggin sky, he sold his house in Massachusetts AND bought a condo in Rhode Island. 


Not only did he move to Rhode Island, which incidentally is made up of 39 cities and towns, y'all.  But, he moved to MY town.  He now lives ten effin minutes from my front door.  Clearly, karma hates me.


During his lengthy moving process, Lou decided that he wanted a fresh start in his new home.  So, he bought all new furniture for his schmancy condo, and gave away most of the fine furnishings that were in his old house (to family and friends).  He gave away bedroom sets, dining room furniture, deck furniture, appliances, decorative items, living room furniture, paintings, dishes, clothing, and a whole lot of other really neat stuff

Then, one day he came to my work and was all, "Linda and I are giving away a bazillion dollars worth of our shit and we'd like you to have this."

Just what I always wanted....a nasty-ass, torso-less, potato-head doll.  

Contain your envy, people.

Anywho, on to the good news!

The winners of the personalized *Not for Stabbing Knives (chosen by a random number generator) are...

*Commenter # 4---Laura Runs A Latte
*Commenter #6---The Path Traveled
*Commenter #14---AZ Gypsie

Congratulations, Peeps!  Please email me with your contact information to claim your prizes!

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

I Swear. Therefore, I am.

It's 3:00pm on Tuesday, January 1, 2013 and I've already dropped several F-Bombs.  GO ME in two-oh-one-three!

AND THAT'S why I never make New Year's resolutions, y'all.  While everybody around me is all, "The new year is upon me and I have resolved to be a better person.  I will embrace positivity.  I will be nicer.  I will focus on changing my behavior.  I will stop eating chocolate (KILL ME).  I will embrace others and blah, blah, freakin blah....,"  I'm just shaking my head thinking, Good Lord, people.  That's a lot of fuggin pressure!  I mean, honestly.....

Sometimes, I swear.

Sometimes, I'm sarcastic.

Sometimes, I want to punch people in the neck.

Sometimes, I EAT COOKIES.

Sometimes, when the phone rings, I look at the caller ID and pretend I'm not home.

Sometimes, I beat myself up over my appearance and lack of motivation.

Sometimes, I feel guilty.

Sometimes, I'd rather be with my friends than with some of my family.

Sometimes, I question every choice I've ever made.

Sometimes, I want to run away.

On the flip side?

I love to laugh....A LOT.

I have a twisted sense of humor and friends who "get" me. I love them!

I'm empathetic and I "ugly cry" often.

Sometimes, I eat healthy!  AND EXERCISE!

I'm a good friend.

I am an AWESOME wife to an amazing husband!  Right, PC?!

Ditto on being an AWESOME daughter, sister, aunt, etc...

Many times, I am strong.

Most times, I accept myself.

Everyday, I am grateful.

But, you know what else?

I am still the same person today that I was yesterday and will be tomorrow.  Sorry for your disappointment, folks (Not, really).  But, there will be no New Year's revelations on this channel (You have Oprah for that).

Oh, well....

On a lighter note, today is the 4th anniversary of my blog. Holy crap!  I can not believe how time flies sometimes...especially since reaching my 40's (FYI...Middle age sucks donkey balls).

To celebrate my Blogiversary (and the New Year, I suppose), I'm going to give away something that I customized myself and gave to my friend Julia for Christmas.  Check it:

Who doesn't want a sharp object with their name on it, y'all?  To win one of THREE of these sharp-ass cooking/chopping (*not for stabbing) knives (color may vary), just leave me a comment on this blog telling me what one of your New Year's resolutions is.  Or, if you're like me and you have none, tell me so.  Also, you could use the comment forum to tell me that you love me and wish I was your BFF.  That works, too.  I'm flexible.  Please note that three winners will be chosen at random (using a counter) one week from today, on January 8th.

Happy Anniversary to Mais Fica!  Here's to many, many more years of me corrupting you.

Happy New Year, Bitches!