Thursday, June 29, 2006

Bean, Bean the Dancing Machine

I love my friends. I reaaaaally do.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Ode to (legal) crack in a can.

i need coffee to jumpstart my morning. a hungover afternoon calls for the caffeine in a diet fountain beverage. but at night, my catalyst of choice recently is sugar free red bull. my first taste of the not-so-tasty-but-oh-so-fun-drink was from a british military guy in a 7-story club in london, while it was still illegal in the states. but i recently rediscovered the drink, and away we go...! one morning after a night of drinking at a citizen cope concert, i awoke to find my face cleared of makeup, my pajamas on, my entire apartment (all one room of it) straightened up. considering i had come home a bit tipsy the night before, i was shocked at my accomplishments. i immediately assumed that i must be becoming manic, but then i realized i had chugged 3 red bulls while at the concert (thank you, smedelicious). and thus the energy drink love affair was born.

the other morning, i awoke to find a sealed-and-addressed envelope to a distant relative. my red bull-fueled night mania was continuing. it's so a-some.

real drugs? so unpretty (most of the time). sugar free red bull? pretty as a picture. a really hyper picture.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Old Man, We Love You

the post below was awesome, but i could add a few more straws to break this old man's back...

when flip flop girl or i burp (which happens from time to time when you are a goddess) our little elderly friend of 26 years is so shocked, repulsed and speechless that you would think that we just broke a puppy's neck in front of him. this reaction only encourages us to be more free with belches. just today, Flip let one rip over the phone while talking to him and she was stunned when she didnt automatically hear his high pitched squeam or receive a lengthy lecture about "being a lady". she had to ask why after a second or two of silence.

...his reply..."yes i heard that...and i'm choosing to ignore it."

i rest our case.

Old Man-isms

Someone I know acts as though he is an 80-year-old senior citizen instead of a 26-year-old man in his prime. Below are a few tid bits about him that comprise his geriatric personality.

The other day, he and I were walking on a crowded street at lunchtime. We were mid-conversation when he abruptly stops and says (in an excited voice) "Oh! A quarter!" He bent down to pick up the discarded coin, annoying everyone that was directly behind him, and then he stood donning a satisfied grin.

When neighborhood kids loiter in his backyard, he uses a hose to scare them away, as if they are stray alley cats.

He says "effing" or "the F word." I have also heard him refer to a mean woman as a "B."

He insistantly explains to pizza parlor employees how he wants his pizza prepared and boxed, as if they don't know that when he says "to go" they should put it in a box instead of in the trash. To add insult to injury, he talks to them as if he is describing the fine points of molecular biology.

He is unreasonably distrusting of ceiling fans.

He drives below the speed limit.

He has a pill bottle that is the size of a milk gallon. This is only one of the dozens of pharmacy-related items he keeps on his person at all times.

He scoffs at any bed fabric that is below 600 thread count.

His doctor is on his speed dial...on his cell phone.

He is best friends with the 911 operators because he calls when anything out of the ordinary occurs.

He has been known to lay down extra sheets on his bed before doing the nasty.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Dear Mr...Walgreen?

something has been really bugging me the last few weeks. walgreens, a drugstore giant, has bought happy harry's, the darling of delaware pharmacies. as referenced by NotoriousALG here , mr. harry levin and his big head are part of delaware's collective conciousness, and i think it's sad that it's changing. change bothers me. i love hh. i loved pumping my legs on my huffy bike with my friend bansky when we were ten, to go waste money on twizzlers and jewelry that would turn our skin green and bad nailpolish. oh, happy harry's, how i loved thee. i know your name will stay the same, but your soul will be changed forever.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Forever and Ever, Amen.

The other night, I was talking to my next door neighbor who is attending a Dave Matthews Band concert this evening and it got me thinking....I really miss Dave Matthews Band. They were probably -- like a lot of us -- my first musical love. The first band that I was really "into," as my Dad said. The first band that I felt compelled to buy a t-shirt at their concert. Oh no, wait. I lied. That was Blind Melon and it was black and I wore it to shreds.

For those of us that were in high school during the mid-90s, Dave Matthews Band provided us a welcome departure from the R&B and (up for debate) bad rap music of that era. I will never forget the first time I heard "Satellite" or when I got "Under the Table and Dreaming" for my 15th birthday. I also got red suede Sambas, which rocked. And a pair of leather loafers that were later chewed by my volleyball coach's stupid dog, but that's neither here nor there.

When Dave Matthews Band came to your town (or close enough to it), it was a gd thrill to go to the concerts. This was before they sold out stadiums. This was when you put on your best J.Crew men's sweater, Birks, and bought stickers in the parking lot. I think a DMB concert was the was the first time I ever had a beer.

Once I got to college, I moved away from DMB as they sold out stadiums and started to release a lot of live albums -- which were great -- but something was lost. I love their old stuff so much. I just downloaded a slew of songs onto my iPod and I am so happy about it.

I think it's time to rediscover the glory of "Recently", "One Sweet World," and "Crash Into Me." It's just so good.

Oh, the unpretty irony.

not two hours have passed since that last post, and i went into a shoe store on chestnut. what to my wondering eyes did appear but a sign that said "only umbrella's go here!" do the words "go here" belong to umbrella? argh. so unpretty.

Now, I'm no Vento from Geno's, but...

...there nothing that irks me more than a misplaced apostrophe. "its" is for possession. "it's" is for "it is." get it right or pay the price. i can overlook a quickly dashed email or even a memo. but a printed sign-- or worse, a tattoo like the numbskull in the photo-- with a misplaced apostrophe? come on. that's the epitome of american ignorance. (that's an exaggeration, i know.) but seriously, if it's permanent, proofread! (now, i'm not perfect by any means. but i was an english major. so i can get righteous over punctuation if i wanna.)

The Big F-U to Gloria Steinman

I have never been a girl who dreams of weddings or marriage. I never even owned Beautiful Bride Barbie as a child. That was too boring for my imagination (my Barbies got around). I think the mindset of not wanting to settle down until later in life is quite common these days among the female population. Moreover, I have always been proud of my family for not pressuring me to find "the right guy." Recently, however, I got a large dose of reality - 1950s reality.

A couple weeks ago, my mother and I went shopping for a new bed. Harry, the master of all things mattress, asked how long we expect this bed to last. My immediate reaction was, "As long as possible, dumbass." My mom took one look at me, as if she were sizing me up, and replied, "I'd say about four years." While I was trying to wrap my brain around this random answer my mom supplied, Harry and she exchanged a knowing look. As Har was leading us to the four-year beds, I stopped dead in my tracks and asked, "Wait, are you thinking that I will be getting married in four years and will need a bigger bed?!?" Harry butt in and said, "That seems about right. What are you? 21?" If any of you read my 23rd birthday post, you know how I now feel about the mattress master.

The next day, I went to the bank to change my accounts over into my name. I was again accompanied by my mom (because yes, my accounts were still in her name). So the girl helpeing us, who is about 23 or 24, was listing the various savings account options I could take advantage of. She said that the best thing for me to do was to take Option #1. It is a simple account - does not require a minimum balance, a small interest rate. She said that this was a perfect option for my life right now (I start to smile, feeling proud of my "life right now"). Then she says, "Because in like two years when you get married you and your husband will probably get a joint account and you can figure out what suits you best then." (My smile disappears) When we leave my mother says, "At least I gave you four years."

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Frisky Feline Felon

bet you didnt know how unpretty pussycats could make your life.

Case in point...
Lewis the cat was sentenced to two years home detention by a judge yesterday, and his owner, Ruth Cisero, was sentenced to two years probation.

I got this from CNN.COM. You have to read it to believe it:

Cisero had faced a charge of reckless endangerment. Neighbors complained that Lewis the cat's long claws and stealth have allowed it to attack at least a half-dozen people and ambush the Avon cosmetics lady as she got out of her car on her neighborhood rounds.

Cisero had rejected a previous offer of accelerated rehabilitation if she agreed to euthanize Lewis.

Janet Kettman, one of Lewis' victims, has previously said she and her neighbors on Sunset Circle are always looking over their shoulders in fear the stalker will strike again.

"He attacks from the back," Kettman said. "You never see it coming. He has six toes on every foot, which constitutes a very formidable weapon."

"Also, he gives out mixed signals," Kettman continued. "He would sidle against you and purr. You bend down to pet him and he'd attack you."

The case drew national attention. Lewis has appeared in People magazine and his own page on the social networking site

But Cisero said Tuesday she would prefer to have never had the attention.

"I never thought it would come to this," she said. "It's been an absolute nightmare. It's ruined my life."

The dark side of an American sport.

no one ever talks about it. but every woman is afflicted. this is the dark side of bowling: broken fingernails. three of the ladies in my party today at the bowling alley cracked their nails in those dangerous balls. we're not just being vain; oh no-- cracked nails (even short stubs like mine) hurt! i was at another alley a few months ago, and much to my disgust, the lanes were littered with nails. so unpretty. watch out ladies.

Yeah? And Your Point Is?

So, I get paid once a month. Which means when it gets to t-minus 8 days (like today), things get pretty intense. It's go-time and it means that I have to stretch my remaining bucks throughout a weekend and the beginning of another week. You would think that after having worked for this once-a-month company, I would be more akin to save, but that's just not me. As I once told a good friend's father, "Ya know how I see it? I have an entire lifetime to pay off debt." I think this mindset may be a small piece of the reason I wait for the trainers at my gym to turn their backs so I can take more than my allotted share of free fruit from the bowl that greets me every day.

Until next Thursday, I will pay for my coffee in change. I will stretch my cash out this weekend at the beach. I will mooch like you've never seen. Case in point? My Mom brought me lunch today.

I am 25. I own a house. I am relatively self-sufficient. But when it comes to buying groceries, I missed that boat. My roommates and I have been known to wittle our refrigerators down to its barest of bones and then look at the box of baking soda and consider eating that before going to Acme. So when my wonderful mother told me she was headed out to her house during lunch I said, "Why don't you whip up one of those wonderful chopped salads and drop it off to me?" I know, pathethic. But you must understand that I am a desperate gal. I can't live on Orbit gum all day.

So she did it. And I loved it. And the kicker?

"What are you doing for dinner?"
"I don't know, Mom. Want me to come?"
"Can you make paella?"
"You're pushing it, sister."

Come On Christina!

why can't Christina Aguilera get it right just once? i mean, what the f?!

she always comes so close to being cool again, but there's always that something (be it hair, wardrobe, ghetto accent, boyfriends) that voids the whole attempt.

no one has ever denied that she has an unbelievable and sort of freakish voice for a little white girl. britney sounds like a chipmunk on meth when you compare the two ex-mickey mousers. but one thing brit USED to have over christy was likeability.

well, we all know that ship has sailed. so one would think this is the perfect time for christina to suit up and get back in the game and take over the world of girls 13-21 (and gay guys). and she is trying...i just saw her new video and its a sin...i know exactly what she was going for, but it didnt work because of one thing. i don't believe her as for real. i never have. she always seems like she is trying so hard to be someone else; whoever she thinks you want her to be.

i know its been said many times, many ways...but please, just be yourself. how unpretty.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

What's in a Name?

I hearby renounce my blog name. It was chosen on a whim by a friend, and I did not mind it until today. I have always been a huge supporter of flip flops. I loved the way they look, I loved the way they flip, and I loved the way they flopped. But today, a horrible, ghetto, penguin-like troll tainted my love of the simple rubber shoe. As she waddled across the street with an air of WT that is unsurpassed by anyone else I know, she was preceded by the sound of her sandals. She has ruined the sound of my favorite shoe. As you can tell by the picture, I am not too happy about this.

Pa? Ma? Mary? The homestead's on fire.

because i am wearing a somewhat confusing big flouncy skirt today, i signed an email "laura ingalls wilder." my cubemate was utterly confused. she didn't know laura ingalls wilder, the ingenue of "little house on the prarie." she didn't experience pa's trials on the homestead, she didn't weep when mary lost her vision, or rejoice when mary married almanzo (also blind). she didn't smile with nostalgia every time pa called laura "half-pint." she didn't swoon over dreamy albert, or shiver in fear at mean-on-the-outside-but-kind-on-the-inside mrs. oleson. she never cursed snotty nellie oleson. i think she missed out on the full house of the 1800's. don't you? it was so a-some.

Monday, June 19, 2006

It Was Just Kinda Strange.

When I got home from work this evening, I cooked up my usual boy-food-dinner and flipped through the channels to see what was on TV. My sister (and roommate) will not let me get Comcast, so I actually have to manually flip through the channels. Waiting for channel 99 takes too long and I have the attention span of a flea.

I was faced with Kirk Cameron a.k.a Mike Seaver a.k.a first crush with permed mullet from 80s sitcom gem "Growing Pains" telling me why I needed God to save my soul. I couldn't believe that Mike Seaver was telling me why prayer would guarantee me a space in heaven. It absolutely creeped me out. This guy was once on a show where his best friend's name was B*ner. Of course, I watched it for another three or four minutes, but it was totally bizarre. Then they featured him doing this "man on the street" bit at a mall where he asked questions like, "Where do you think you'll go when you die?" and "Do you believe in the afterlife?"

I think he should stick to shows where he gets a perfect score on his SATs because he filled out the bubbles in the shape of a rocketship. Or was that Family Ties?

Show me that smile again.....don't waste another minute on your cryin'.

I can handle love of my life Tony Danza having a shortlived talk show. But Kirk Cameron pushing the religion product on me? Too weird.

Ode to a root vegetable.

well, it's been about three minutes since i slobbered all over my keyboard while typing about food... so here's my little ode to a deep red root vegetable, the beet. i have always loved the beet, even eating slices of pickled beet straight out of the jar. but, much to my delight, these days the beet has a certain cache. beets are en vogue! just like artichokes, figs, and lately, honey, beets are now all over fancy menus. (my superior tells me this is because they are dirt cheap, oh well.)

but watch out. cause these delicious root veggies stain. and red stains are so unpretty.

Friday, June 16, 2006

The Dark Side

if you have not seen Donnie Darko yet, do yourself a favor this weekend and rent it. it is one of the most fucked up, beautiful, creepy and surreal movies of the 2000s.

starring my celebrity boyfriend, Jake Gyllenhaal, this movie was written and directed by Richard Kelly (Domino, Visceral Matter, The Goodbye Place).

i could try to explain the plot line to you---that jake plays a troubled teenager plagued by visions of a large bunny rabbit that manipulates him to commit a series of crimes, after narrowly escaping a bizarre accident---i could try and say that, but you just need to see this for yourself and make your own judgments as to what the hell this movie is about, because i've seen it 10 times and i still am not completely clear about it.

i know one thing-its a great waste of your time.

Oh, so good. Now my belly hurts.

yesterday, i noticed the milk in my cereal tasted much more delish than usual. also, it coated the spoon. surprising, as i only buy skim. when i was ready to put the bowl in the sink, on a whim i checked out the milk. doi. i used half-and-half in my cereal! no wonder it was so delish. anyway, i suggest you try it someday. you might get bloated, but it was an a-some dairy way to kick off your day.

And speaking of Britney...

...whatever happened to j. timbs? i used to (shame-faced-ly) rock out to his falsetto so much that my mom started to know the words. (she still says "bye, bye, baby, bye bye" thinking that she is the 6th member of in 'n sync). i think "cry me a river" was his bitter end. then the armpit-scratching, burping, farting cameron came along (with that annoying i'm gross but endearing schtick) and we haven't heard from mr. frosted-tips in years. he was cheesy, but he could make me shimmy and shake like shakira.

Cry Me a River

I don’t think there is a person alive today that saw the Matt Lauer interview with Britney Spears last night and doesn’t still think that she is a moron.

Her makeup was quite possibly the worst I’ve ever seen. I mean, what was up with the clumpy false eyelashes? Was that a joke? Was she trying to start a trend or something-“trash whore chic”. I doubt Glamour or Vogue is going to hit the ground running with that one.

God bless Sean Preston. God bless his poor little condemned soul.

And chewing your gum while trying to convince Matt Lauer that you are not a trashy redneck…so unpretty.

p.s. almost as offensive as Brit's makeup, clothes and speech was the fact that Matt Lauer was not wearing socks with his penny loafers.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006


Ok, I know many of you are probably going to shake your head in defiance or disgust, but I’m about to share with you a hot and juicy theory that someone recently shared with me about the legendary talk show host and millionaire, Oprah.

She is a closeted lesbian, according to my sources. Her boyfriend, Stedman is a…, well, a stead man; ya’ know-arm candy, a cover.

Her real love and companion is her “best friend”, Gail.

Are any of you buying this? Just curious, because I find it totally believable. Ever since I read in Out Magazine that Luther Vandross was gay, but in the closet, I have been obsessed with finding out who is or isn’t gay in the entertainment industry.

What an unhealthy and ridiculous obsession, right?

Clean Up: 11th Floor

I love beverages. And I do not mean the alcoholic kind, necessarily. Although I am a fan of them as well, but I digress. I love to be hydrated. A friend once remarked that it wasn't until she lived with me that she realized the importance or need to have a 'drink in the car.'

I love drinks. On a normal day, I kill about two cups of coffee, a few Nalgenes full of water, a couple cups of Crystal Light and maybe a few seltzers with lime. And if I am at brunch with friends? Order me a coffee (caffeine), water (hydration), and Diet Coke (love of a fountain beverage will never fade).

But the irony of it all is that I am not so much a fan of going to the bathroom to deal with the repercussions of my affection for Propel, Aquafina, Red Bull Sugar Free, what have you. I will absolutely sit at my computer, on the verge of a bursting bladder, and think, "Just get this one thing done and then you can go."
I am a total freak.

Damaged kidneys? So unpretty.

A sassier shade of green.

forget daily candy. (well, don't forget it, but whatevs.) the ideal bite is a daily email that gives tips on how non-granolas like myself can easily incorporate sustainable living into their lives. so check it, check it, check it out, and sign up, babies:

Green is the new red, white and blue.

i was reading the bible (newsweek) last night and read somebody's quote that "green is the new red, white and blue." it's true... green buildings, sustainable living... they are hot buttons everywhere. (let's hope it's a trend with momentum rather than a passing fad.)

i can just see all the republicans in their red ties and their mahogany desks going, "shit! when did green living become admirable? i thought we effectively made environmentalism a pansy-ass cause, and now it's catching on all over the country. i love oil! oil, oil, oil! i suck."*

it's too bad our fear of emptying our wallets at the pump rather than depleting the world of its healthy environment is what scares us into making green living a patriotic thing, but it's better than nothing. money-hungry oil drillers who ruin the earth? so unpretty. so are red ties.

*(ok, no republican would ever say "i suck." cause they don't. yes they do. no. yes.)

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

So, I like to talk to myself. So what?

i could hardly contain myself this morning. as soon as i got to work, i hightailed it to the fridge where i grabbed cold packets of butter and put them in my pockets to soften (weird thing numero uno). a few minutes later i put 1.5 packets on each half of the bagel. then, i said to my computer screen, something to the effect of "butter is the love of my life" or something equally as losery, i forget exactly. well, a coworker overheard and gave me a funny glance.

but isn't it true? ain't butter great? real 100% butter. i once had a roommate who swore bread was just the vehicle by which americans consumed butter. i couldn't agree more. fake margerine is so unpretty.

Smack My Smooch Up

what is worse than dry, cracked, chapped lips?

well, i’m sure there’s a lot of things, but let’s focus on my rant for today: i am addicted to moisturizing my lips. two, three, four times a day, i coat ‘em up with Lip Medex. this stuff is amazing. and aside from restoring the moisture balance in my lips it also heals cold sores and kanker sores!

…not that i get them frequently or anything; well, i did when i was like 13. but that’s a whole other post.

i heard from a friend that chapstick, lip medex, etc. is actually really addictive and a horrible habit to break. after using it too much, your lips actually just stop producing its own moisture and then the vicious cycle is set in motion.

how unpretty is that? well, i guess not as unpretty as making out with flaky, cakey lips.

I Just Wanted a DVD, Not the Third Degree.

I have lived in a total of three cities in the past four years and as many people do, my roommates and I have opened video store memberships. And each and every time, the person who opens said membership is honestly like a member of the CIA. I am impressed that the take it so seriously, but please relax.

A sampling of the intensity I have experienced....

When living in the outskirts of Philadelphia with two roommates, we went to Blockbuster and opened a membership. "Ok," the woman began, "the thing to remember is that this card (laminated membership card) is just like a credit card. If you lose it, you must call us immediately and close the account. You do not want people abusing your account." Hmmm. My Blockbuster card falls out of my wallet, someone picks it up and treats everyone on Ridge Avenue to a DVD rental at my expense? I doubt it. She then looks me dead in the face, as I am responsible for the account, and says, "Who are the other authorized users?" I indicate my friends who are with me, clearly my age, and she says, "Do you want them to be able to rent R-rated movies without you being here?" I almost wet myself.

I thought it was a fluke, but just this past weekend, I opened a membership in my new (old) hometown and was greeted with the same commitment to video rental. This time it involved hand-outs and magnets, but there was no sense of ennui in this store. Which I suppose it great. But still strange.

Make it a Blockbuster night, y'all. But please take it seriously. They certainly do.

Monday, June 12, 2006

A place to be a dirtball?

supposedly, wilmington (delaware) has a slogan: "the place to be somebody." but every time i go there, i learn about drrty slogans. earlier this summer, it was donkey punch, then easter bush. this weekend? the spiderman. then the eiffel tower. you can google these terms to get their drrty definitions, or ask your perverted friends, because i'm not telling you what they are.

but riddle me this: do people (guys) actually do these strange sexual scenarious? or is there some bored yet pigheaded guy who sits around and thinks these things up, then spreads the word to all my friends in wilmo?

and for the record, i learned all these terms through hearsay, not firsthand experience. promise. that would be so unpretty, my friend.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Ode to an orangy-red fruit.

for the love of the mango: with its thick but edible skin, stringy big ol' seed, and most deliciously juicy fruit-meat, this oval fruit is the star of the caribbean. i think the mango deserves more attention than it gets. beware, though: its juice is dangerous to light-colored clothing. so, as sark extols, eating mangos naked is the way to go.

Friday, June 09, 2006

Can you wait another hour before putting on your lipstick?

something that really grosses me out is lipstick marks on coffee cups. people usually have their coffee in the morning. can't you wait until mid-morning before plastering your lips in hot pink paint, then having it smear all over the rim of the cup? am i ridiculous that this bugs me so much? misplaced kisses on coffee cups = so unpretty.

Who Cares About Bikes?

A big day is coming up this weekend - the bike race in Manayunk. People go crazy for this. Many of my friends plan to be cracking their first brew by 6:00 or 7:00 a.m. in celebration of the event. Sidenote: like me, most of these people have not touched a bike since they rode their Huffy in fifth grade. This sparked a conversation between my friend and me. I have been passively participating in plenty of events during my life simply because it is the norm. These things are usually dubbed as party days. I don't know how things got so out of control. Case in point - in all honesty, I don't care about St. Patrick. I don't think of him any other day of the year, but I will be the first to don a shamrock tattoo on my cheek and order a green beer on March 14th. Additionally - I could care less about any football game, including the Superbowl (this is blasphemy because I am a Penn Stater); I don't even know the meaning of Cinco de Mayo; the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, and Labor Day are all interchangable in my mind; New Year's is only important because of its Eve; and Halloween's appeal, which was lost when I was too old for trick-or-treating, came back with a vengence when I connected drinking and dressing up. I think that these days hold real meaning for very few people. Instead, they are a reason for people to come together and in one voice say, "I'll have another."

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Million Dollar Baby

the jolie-pitts have finally delivered the ultimate slap in the face-their million dollar baby.

as if i wasnt jealous enough of her beauty and his good looks, their combined fame and fortune-now i can be jealous of the fact that a single snap shot of their new baby girl, Shiloh, pays them 4 million dollars.

let me re-type that...4 million dollars.

you may be wondering why the picture attached to this post is of a beach front Hawaaiin villa and not the jolie-pitts or their off-spring...thats because 4 million dollars could also buy you that.

excuse me while i throw up.

Monday, June 05, 2006

I declare September "Procreation Month."

i think september must be a big month for procreation, or, in other terms, making the beast with two backs. i believe people are doing the do in september because nine months later comes june, and everyone (everyone cool, that is) is born in june! june babies i know include:

  • an ex-Dewey lifeguard who just this weekend poured dark brown beer all over my dress (by accident)
  • my college lacrosse crush who read mark twain
  • my younger cousin who is smarter than me
  • my cousin that is 364 days older than me
  • an advertising lady who has great clothes
  • commenter extraordinaire lkc's dad
  • a red head who loves old men like kevin costner, yuck
  • the mother of my ex-bf (it's been 5 years and he's engaged but she still sends cards)
  • a guy who invited me to his sister's wedding reception and loves bad radio
  • a lady who knits and plays poker
  • and of, course, moi

you are all probably sick of counting down the days 'till 6-6-6... when i turn 26. but in 48 hours it will all be over. until, happy birthday gemini, you two-faced twin!

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Everyone Hates Me

...well, when i'm sick, like i am this weekend. and hey, i don't blame them, i would hate me to; i'm contagious, i'm winey, i'm annoying because i can't stop hacking up pieces of cancer (that's what i call the hard as a rock, smells like belly button fungus stuff...oh, you still have no idea what i mean...never mind then.)

i caught whatever i have last week, and immediately blamed my innocent husband, who was sick, but like three weeks ago. hey, life's a bitch and we all have a price to pay. i hate being sick!

my own mother refused to hang out with me last night because she cited the obvious fact, "I have to work all next week and i can't afford to be catching whatever you've got." gee, thanks MOM. you seemed to be all over that shit 15 years ago. and back then, i even enjoyed it too. staying home sick from school was awesome. breakfast in bed, watching the Price is Right, staying in your PJs all day, lunch on the couch (p.s. sick food is also know: tea and toast for breakfast and soup and crackers for lunch) and the best part of all of this was you had your doting mother's attention for a full day-well, at least when the soaps weren't on...the only bad, but not really, part of being out sick from school was the missed classwork, which you could easily copy from your B.F. the next day in the morning.

now, my husband can only make me the tea and toast and then he's off to work, leaving me home alone. damn the man for not allowing "spousal sick days". Price is Right is over ( and if it is still on the air and i'm mistaken, i'm too afraid to see what Bob Barker looks like in 2006). i have to make my own soup and crackers (and we all know food never tastes half as good when you have to make it yourself) and i'm old enough to realize soap operas suck! and unlike missed schoolwork, being out sick on a grown up work day really sucks. its usual to come in and find your desk/chair/area looking like a Kevin Federline bachelor party hit it. post-it notes litter any stickable surface reading "Where is this file?" or "I borrowed your stapler" or "Your trash can was on fire, so we put it out for you". aside from your stapler, all of your office supplies are also missing and you're left with one broken pencil and a ruler; two office items no one uses anymore and that's why they were spared.

yes, being sick sucks more than a Dyson vacuum cleaner...quite simply, it never losing suction...EVER. so unpretty.

Friday, June 02, 2006

They're magically delicious.

there is something that intrigues me about bike messengers. i just had a ten minute conversation with one about my inability to ride without falling. this guy- from our new courier service- had a floppy earlobe (sans spacer), a tic-tac-toe board tattooed on one leg, a mullet/mohawk, and he smelled like sweat, but the fact that he is carrying a 30-pound box plus a boom box on a little bike in traffic-filled streets is strangely attractive.

maybe tonight when he goes to his underground bike messenger lair to speak bike messenger toungue and chant bike messenger chants with his bike messenger bretheren, he will think of that little cubicle chicky he met today, and he will be intrigued too. um, i doubt it.

I love me a good rant.

all my roommates over the years can attest: once a month, i would pull my jane magazine out of the mailbox, then cackle wildly for an hour as i read every word of their clever, witty, devilish pages. well, those days of yore are long gone now that jane pratt is no longer at the helm and the conde nasties have taken over.

i'm so dissappointed. what used to be such a smart and funny read is now just cosmo in jane clothing. for chrissake-- this month there was an article called something like "10 sex tips...for you!" the "10 sex tips" part was pure glamour mag. the "...for you!" add-on was the afterthought insisted upon by the new non-Jane-Pratt editor, saying, "remember, writers [i.e. ex-cosmo interns], this is jane. and at jane, we are strong women!" i can imagine all the little conde nasties scratching their heads, then turning to their macs to type out another brilliant sex tip ("wear a long skirt on a picnic. then no one will know when you're acting randy!") ugh. the old jane magazine was awesome. jane in the era of conde nast? so unpretty. so very unpretty.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Before My Very Eyes....

Now, we all know that my eyes have not been up to snuff lately, but I cannot believe what they just viewed. I was just in a meeting with an external person and as he was speaking, he was yanking the nose hairs out of his nose. I cannot believe it.

And his eyes were watering and all.....

Nasty. Excuse me while I pluck my eyebrows and click through Powerpoint slides.

A small wonder love song.

last night someone found out i was from delaware, and he said, "oh it must be gorgeous there." now, people usually quote wayne's world when they hear i'm from the first state rather than compliment it, so this was a pleasant surprise. turns out that line was lyrics from a josh ritter song, "hotel song." since those that live in the small wonder get a lot of abuse for our size, i thought i'd just post this little love song to those from the land of Lord De La Warr:

"i caught a glimpse of your license plate, you were drifting down the innerstate. it said you were from Delaware, I said oh it must be gorgeous there."

enjoy. then go drink a dewey devil and eat scrapple in honor of your hometown.