I'm bringing cozy back.

Today is the day: I am wearing my first turtleneck of the season. And it won't be my last, ho-no-no. I love t-necks as they make me feel safe and cozy. Yes, it's prudish, but by-god it's the best part of the cold weather season. Amen.

Melodrama does not suit me.

Ok, I am a bit of an exaggerator, and I must apologize to my pals for accusing them of thinking so badly about me. Turns out, they haven't cackled in agreement behind my back about me being like Darcy. They just compared one line to me, where the narrator says Darcy is the only person she knows over 12 that complains of being bored as often as she does. And I must admit, I do have a tendency to claim boredom. Sorry gals. Forgive me?

Comcast Hates Me or Maybe I Hate Comcast?

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I schedule my life around my favorite television shows, so it’s no shocker that I’m utterly devastated that my cable is not working -- I totally missed the season premier of Desprate Housewives last night.
I’ve been having problems with my cable on and off of about two months now. It hasn’t been a problem because all the shows were on hiatus but I’ve become a pro at fixing my cable problems when they arise. I just follow the instructions that customer service reps have been giving me time and again:
I call into Comcast and have my signal update through the automated recording system.
If that doesn’t work, I unplug the cable box for 30 seconds and then re-plug and wait.
Sometime, I even repeat a few times before calling to speak with someone in customer service in order to schedule a tech to come out. I usually tell the person on the other line that I followed the usual protocol but they make me do it again while they are on the phone, I try not to get rude and I humor them. ARE there no records of my pervious calls?
Yesterday, however the guy on the other end of the phone told me that my signal wasn’t working. Duh?! No kidding?! I figured that was the reason that my cable wasn’t working.
Then he had the audacity to ask me if he could send a technician out to my apartment on Tuesday between the hours of 1 and 6 p.m.?
Ummmm… NO! I have to go to work! I have to make money so that I can pay your outrageous fees for your sucky service!
OMG! Comcast is calling me right now to confirm the appointment. Weird!

I think I need some quality time in the suburbs.

The city is doing bad things to me. This morning, as I am crossing the street on the GREEN light, and chatting with my sweetest-of-the-sweet mama on the mobile phone, a big-ass lady with big-ass hair and a big-ass Mercedes honked at me to hurry and cross the street. Oh no, no, lady... I have the green, you have an annoying car, and you just brought anger into my day because you couldn't wait literally three seconds for a pedestrian to have safe passage-- when it was my right of way?? So, without hesitation, I turned to her, gesturing wildly to the light, and yell to her closed-up windows, "IT'S GREEN!!" I didn't bother to look around and see who might see me yell. I completely forgot that my mother could hear the honk and the obnoxious yell back. And I completely disregarded my usual decision NOT to let aggressive people like Ms. Mercedes get the better of me. I usally have a self-satisfied laugh and overly indulgent smile at those people, but not today. Today I succombed. Maybe it's because I was feeling bad at having my friends think I'm Darcy. Or maybe I am Darcy after all. Great.

Clearly, my friends hate me.

I hate stupid books. I really do. Anything with a stiletto or a little dog on the cover makes me want to barf. But my friends insisted I read "Something Borrowed," swearing that it was good and not as stupid as the cover screams that it is.

So, I'm reading it, and so irritated because the protagonist (who is sleeping with her best friend's fiance) is so wholesome and good (aside from the cheating factor) and her cuckolded best friend Darcy has no redeemable qualities whatsoever. Darcy is obnoxious, self-centered, selfish, a liar. If this was a book worth reading they would make Darcy a little more complex; as stupid/bitchy as they make her in the book leaves the reader with no concern that her best friend is shagging her soon-to-be hubby.

But I digress. The real point here is that as I am reading the book, hating the book and Darcy, I remember way back to when two of my best gals were talking about it. I knew nothing of the book at this point. But I do remember that they compared ME to Darcy. What the f? Now I am hurt that my best friends could think that I am shallow, selfish and obnoxious as her.

Jerky friends with quite low opinions of me are so unpretty. Or, maybe I am so unpretty, just like Darcy.

Well, you're not a brain sugeon.

Yesterday I had a most irritating run-in with a cocky lawyer from the floor of my building. I am getting agitated just remembering it. I was leaving my office with a bunch of flowers that a co-worker gave me for finishing up a big project. This 30-something lawyer-- definitley the type of guy that cheats on his wife-- looks at me and the flowers in the elevator and says:

"Somebody loving you?" Well, a) that's sort of personal and b) um, yea, salt in the wound.
"No, it's from a co-worker because we just launched a big project." I reply.
"Oh, yea, you guys always look so happy in your office. Always smiling." he says.
"Really?" I ask, incredulously.
"Yea!" He retorts. "I mean, it's not a law firm. It's not like you guys have any stress. No one ever yells, over there."
"Yea right." I grumble, as I depart the elevator with my roses. Just because he might not give roses to a partner when they close a case and put that f*cker in jail doesn't mean he can be a condescending bastard, right?

So unpretty.

Listen with love.

If you want to hear some nice voices... and learn about a great Philly pizza joint while you are at it, check out the "Casual Meal" segment of the My Philly tour from SoundAboutPhilly podcast tours.

He he he.

What the Holy Hell?!

how can one wear a mickey mouse shirt and be violent? this was the question that boggled my mind whilst witnessing an extremely inappropriate and ghastly altercation between two men in the middle of walnut street yesterday afternoon.

it was an ass beating like i've never seen before. and the man doing to the brunt of the beating, was wearing a mickey mouse shirt.

it took a moment to disect what was going on besides the odd wardrobe. apparently, mickey was experiencing the most toxic case of road rage ever when he threw his car into park in the middle of one of the busiest intersections in the city and jumped out to beat the crap out of a bike messenger who had allegedly hit the hood of his car.

they rumbled in the middle of the street for a good 7 seconds, stopping all traffic, motor vehicle and pedestrian and then rolled right into a philly weekly recepticle and then smack into the windows of the ING cafe. after about 15 seconds, finally two cops raced to the scene and broke the bloody pair up.

i was shocked and dazed for the next hour or two. seeing a REAL LIVE STREET FIGHT...so unpretty.

H2Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!

A frequent topic amongst So Unpretty bloggettes is that we loathe having to drink water and take trips to the bathroom to deal with the full bladders that accompany the mandate of 8 cups a day. Well, I am going to boast and tell you that I have been going above and beyond the requirements and knocking my water consumption out of the park.

Now, before you roll your eyes and ask, "Who cares, ALG?" let me share a secret. Although my newfound love of water is primarily selfish -- I am a bridesmaid in less than 20 days and want my skin to be dewy and radiant in pictures -- there is a secret to my success.

It's called TrueLemon and it's rockin'. TrueLemon is a crystallized lemon substitute that comes in packets and you simply add to water bottles. It's so refreshing and doesn't taste phony, like the Lipton Green Tea packets or Crystal Light On-the-Go. They also have TrueLime, but I haven't tried that yet.

*I also love TrueLemon because it reminds me of the time that I was so ridiculously hungover on South Charles Street and Beanorama came to me like a Dutch angel and brought me a chilled glass of water with TrueLemon. It was awesome.

Why I am a jerk.

I just started my day with completely unwarranted anger, and I feel a little bad about it. Here's why: when I am running low on cash (which is... um... always) I bring the contents of my change jar to the Penny Arcade at Commerce Bank. Now, it's basically a change counter designed for children, as Penny talks to you, prompting you to hit the right buttons on the screen and even tried to get you to guess how much cash you'll get. Juvenile as it is, I like it better than rolling my coins. So, Penny and I had a hot date this morning, and before I could even empty out my baggie-o-coins into the tray, an ancient security guard ambles over and asks if I've used the machine before. I tell him yes, then proceed. He stands there. He prompts me at every turn. ("Now put your money in the tray. Now hit the green button.") He even pulled out the reciept and handed it to me. The whole time I was burning with annoyance because A) it's a child's machine, I can handle it B) I already TOLD him I know how to work it C) Yes, it added up only to $12.55, but it's my money and I'd rather not have him looking over my shoulder.

I knew my frustration was overblown. He was an elderly security guard, probably bored, thinking he was being parental and teaching me. But Commerce Bank is weird, and he was weirder, and forcing myself to say thank you to someone that had just made me have steam come out of my ears was a very unpretty way to start the week. And that's why I am a jerk.

The Real World London was the boring-ist one.

Holy shizah. I just spent the last two hours watching quarter-life crises on the big screen. You think Zach Braff's new movie, The Last Kiss, is another feel-good film with a killer soundtrack? HELLS naw. This one does have a good soundtrack (Imogen Heap, anyone?) but you leave feeling shell-shocked rather than ooey-gooey happy.

The Last Kiss is not the romantic dramedy that the trailer promises. No way, man. This movie is all about how young, promising, hopeful, healthy good love is pretty much damn near impossible to sustain. How even the best relationships can lose something along the way...connection, honestly... and oh yea, monogamy.

And I'll tell you...two hours of brink-of-adulthood angst is a lot to take, especially when you are in the thick of it yourself. I watched the movie with three good friends: one is 3 weeks away from her wedding. One is in love, in a serious relationship. And one is in a fledgeling relationship. (Then there's single me, keeping myself OUT of a relationship for all the reasons seen in the movie, but that's between me and my diary.) We all left with wide-eyes, grimaces, stomache aches and more than a twinge of depression. Way to go, Zach.

Don't get me wrong. I am glad I saw this movie. It's well written and well played. But scary, 'cause it was truthful. And also... Rachel Bilson is in it, and I like her, even though she was basically Summer in the movie as well. (PS You can see her boobs if you watch the movie. And some guy's butt. That butt was the complete opposite of unpretty.) Peace out.

A new side of Dewey Beach.

Here's one last hurrah to summer: a hilarious New Yorker's post about their condo in Dewey Beach. It's like no Dewey I've ever known... Check it, check it, check it out.

Why doesn't every smoker have this?

(Or the real question should be: why are there still smokers? But I digress.)

I just read about pocket ashtrays. Phillip Morris, that grand cancer-causing patriarch of the drrty south, is giving them out as part of the Keep America Beautiful campaign. DOI! Why doesn't every smoker carry one? Most smokers I know wouldn't dream of tossing their old Mickey-D's bag on the street after devouring their two cheeseburger extra value meal, but they have no problem tossing a butt on God's green earth. Folks- you don't own that earth, and cigarette butts are litter, come on now. You don't want to kill the little birdies and fishies. You clean up your dog's poo, so clean up your own crap and get your smoking self a pocket ashtray. And then go get some Nicorette gum and grow up already. Harsh, I know. But so is carbon monoxide, and you inhale that, so...

In other nicotine news, Mayor Street signed the smoking ban. HOO-RAH.

Don't Xerox Your Butt, But...

Now, I'm no fan of the war. But like every good American, I like to support the BOYS (yes, boys) and girls and women and men who are risking everything over there. So, go to www.letssaythanks.com to pick out a thank you card. Xerox will print it and send it to a soldier that is currently serving in Iraq. It's free. And it's nice. So be nice. And do it. Love, Beanorama

Newbie Lawyer Update.

I know no one really cared about my "Attack of the Newbie Lawyers" post, as there were only two comments (one of them my own). But I just had to laugh when I overheard two administrative assistants on the elevator this morning, talking about how they let a young girl into the conference room, not knowing who she was but thinking she was the boss' daughter. Turns out she was the new lawyette! As a woman who was asked twice during a work event last week (once by a TV personality who shall remain nameless) what highschool I went to, I feel for this poor newbie. Let's just hope I look young when I am 45.

Uh, OK...

twice today i had the unusual and disturbing experience of having two complete strangers comment on my appearance. i don't think its happened to me more than five times in my entire life; and yet today, a double cheeseburger.

critic numero uno was a maintenance man at my office building. as i was walking through my lobby on my way to a doctor's appointment, i spied him staring at me from outside the glass. he was at first just casually smoking his cigarette. but as i approached, he started nodding his head in an enthusiastic manner. then, as i started through the revolving doors, his nodding quickened and his smile grew big as he started mouthing words to me and pointing at me with his cigarette. i smiled back because i was nervous (that's what i do). when i finally emerged from the building and could finally hear what he was saying my smile faded.

"Aw, yeah! You look WAY BETTA' with a little bit of a heel!"

what?! huh?!

true, i don't usually do heels (i'm a notorious FSW--Flat Shoe Woman). this guy must keep major tabs on me to notice the one day i am wearing a heel--and yes, it was just a little bit--kitten, in fact.

my second run in with the fashion police happened tonight. there i am, at my local pharmacy, just minding my business, dropping off my prescription when suddenly i feel someone touching my shoulder. i turn around expecting to see an old friend or something, but am surprised when i find myself staring at a complete stranger; a short, young woman with lots of make-up and a troubled look all over her face.

"um, excuse me, but do you mind if i take this piece of cat hair off of your back? that kind of stuff really bothers me!" she says as SHE PROCEEDS TO PICK AT MY DRESS. i stood start still...in shock and just let it happen. she picked off the "cat" hair--which was not a cat hair at all, but a feather from one of sadie's angel wings (sadie is my daughter-er, i mean dog).

and then it was over. i didnt know what to say...except "thanks."

strangers commenting on your shoe choices or literally "knit picking" at the dog hair on your dress...SO UNPRETTY!

You can be like Joanie too!

Now's your chance to be just like Joanie. As we gear up for the September 20 premiere of America's Next Top Model, you can chat with Tyra, here. I just wish she would say, "I have three beautiful girls, standing before me..."

And no, UPN did not pay me for this post. Although they can if they want to.

Just like Jessica Simpson and P. Diddy.

My name is Beanorama. I'm 26 years old. And I have adult acne.

I'm also a compulsive picker, so I have sweet little cuts on my face too. I just don't understand why I have not grown out of the acne phase. I qualify for cheaper car insurance! I've been a full-time employee for four years! I am a godmother! I have wrinkles! And I have acne? What the bloodclot, man? Being adult is hard enough without the leftovers of adolescence. Adult acne is so unpretty.

I've Reached a New Low.

Not only did I not eat lunch until 2:30, but my lunch was pathetic. I have been known to crack open a can of tuna and eat it straight out of the can with a fork, but this is a new frontier.

So I purchased spray-on salad dressing. And then I bought a bag of salad. Already 0 for 2, I know. But then I decided to extract the lettuce leaves individually from the bag, placed nicely on my desk, and then proceed to spray each one with the salad dressing. My boss almost died when she caught wind of this.

Not good. I have become the pinnacle of a Lazy American. The only thing that could've been worse is if I had the above accessories delivered.

Farewell Summer. Until Next Year.

This morning, it hit me. My AC is off. The contents of my closet seem woefully insufficient. I question the appropriateness of open-toe shoes. Sweaters are looking good.

It's fall.

Goodbye sweet summer. I made it a full summer without sun poisoning. I went to the biggest sand dune on the East Coast, down in Kitty Hawk, NC. I swam halfway around an island in New Hampshire. I did downward dog in the cool summer breeze (that's yoga, pervs). I picnicked on the grass in Rittenhouse Square. I braved a monsoon at an outdoor concert. I attended three weddings, two bridal shower, two bachelorette parties and one engagement party. I had three dates and two random kisses at the beach. I ate a lot of pizza while a little tipsy. I watched my sister's belly grow with a baby boy. I went to a minor league baseball game, a housewarming, and Amish Country. I swam on a roofdeck pool. A good summer, I'd say.

Summer is my favorite time of year, but I am going to make a concerted effort to look forward to fall...even winter. Football is good! Cozy sweaters are good! Hot tea is good! Chlorophyll is good! I refuse to think that the end of summer is so unpretty, and I must remember, the next one is only 8 1/2 months away.

I Was Rendered Speechless.

I am a sucker for the famous. I just spent four days in California, land of Tinseltown hotties and divas and could not stop hallucinating celebs. I did see, however, Jeffrey Tambour, Lara Spencer and Ryan Devlin (I spent a morning on the set of the Insider) and the guy who got kicked off the first season of "Blow Out" and now has his own show. I also walked past Michael Vartan, which I did not realize.

My US Weekly-reading self also had an ice blended at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, saw the gym where "Work Out" is filmed, drank at at the vineyards featured in "Sideways," spotted Fred Segal, had drinks at Sky Bar, and saw the stage where the last scene of The Truman Show was filmed.

But nothing knocked me on my tush quite so much as who I spotted as I walked off the airplane in Philadelphia: Joanie, a semi-finalist from the last cycle of America's Next Top Model. She was gorgeous. I could barely explain to the person on the other end of the phone how frigging excited I was.

Yes, she is a D-lister. Yes, she lost. But she was AWESOME.

Attack of the newbie lawyers.

Look around... they are everywhere (especially in Center City, Philadelphia): brand new lawyers, most of them starting their second week of work TODAY!! Lucky bastards have been in school for the past three-to-seven years, just had the summer off, and now are earning three times my pay. Of course, most of them have to work ungodly hours for the next few decades of their lives, poor things. I saw one on the elevator of my building this morning who described himself as "jittery" and I felt a little sympathy for him and his shiny new briefcase.

Good luck, young lawyers and lawyettes. Let justice prevail.

You'll Never Take Me Alive!

it waits...patiently. it grows...slowly. it will soon be invading all of my sinuses, causing them to swell and sludge with thick, disgusting mucus. i have been valiantly fighting "something" for the last 3.5 weeks. but, i know, fighting is pointless. in the end, "something" always wins.

i am so sick of getting/being sick. i really hate it. i feel like once a month, i have "something". my office is like one humongous kindergarten class. we pass it around it like it's in our job description. the second i here a sneeze in the hallway, i start popping AIRBORNE. the moment i'm in a meeting and someone stops what they are saying in mid-sentence to clutch their throat and massage their glands, all with that repulsive look on their face, i start popping ZICAM AND AIRBONE.

it's always all for nothing, though. it may take weeks for me to finally succumb, but i always do. it's kinda like the lindsay lohan game of pretend-she can pretend for a couple weeks that she's not a crazy coke whore, but then BAM! a second later there's a two page spread with pictures in OK! magazine with her in a sex swing at the viper room, snorting a line of blow off a midget.

being sick...so un-un-un-ACHOO!-pretty.

Soul Line


Has anyone else ever come across this show while channel surfing? It's absolutely hysterical and mesmerizing. All they do is show these random people soul line dancing for an hour. The camera just pans back and forth, no one looks at it, and the repetition is completely captivating.

I wish to God that the sound could have been recorded on this-but here's what you can imagine in your head: James Brown's "Get up Off that thang...and shake it till you feel better!"

Enjoy.

The Stars Are Drunk Driving

"That's hot."
"Loves it."
These are commonly known Paris-isms. Now that she's been arrested for DUI, maybe we can expect to start hearing a new catch phrase: "Cuff me."

I am absolutely dying to see the mugshot. Nicole Richie must be wetting herself with glee.

I know I am.

Baby Suri, Take a Bow

well, we finally see pics of Baby Suri and low and behold, the world is still spinning. i must say, she is quite the cutie even though some of my freaks, er-i meant friends, think she's not.

in fact, if i am being quite honest, and when am i not...i think Suri is beautiful. she's got her mother's face and her father's hair (not the nose). but maybe i think she's so beautiful simply because all of the wild speculation about what this celebribaby would look like (see pic attached to this post).

the only thing now that's tbd is whether or not she's as insane as her father. but, that'll take at least a decade to determine.

Spiking is scary.

I was sent this video today, and it hit really close to home. My pal Reds and I were in a bar in the Outer Banks this weekend. We're pretty sure we were given rufed (roofed?) drinks. Some weirdo guys who were staring and moving closer and closer to us bought us beers, brought them over to us and dropped off the drinks but didn’t stay to chat or introduce themselves. Reds and I clinked our bottles in cheers, then brought them up to drink—-at the same second we both smelled this lemony, chemical smell and looked at each other in surprise. We got freaked out, went upstairs and got new beers. The bartender poured the beer into a cup and drank and said it tasted weird. So, not to sound like your mom, but seriously, be careful. Because ending up in your underwear in a strange place would be far worse than unpretty.

An Ode to Blue Ink, or, Neuroses Unite Again!

I haven't oded for a while, so here goes. Today I am singing (blogging?) the praises of blue ink, that sweet indigo liquid. I love writing with blue pens, and I despise writing with black pens. In fact, I feel black pens are trashy. That's right, I said it-- black ink is white trash. I have pen predjudice.

I realize this could be another installment in my Neuroses series (hating black ink is up there with hating the sound of Blow Pop wrappers coming off the paper stick) but I am okay with that. Black ink is so unpretty, as are my neuroses. Love, Beanorama

Taking casual Friday to a whole new level.

Last week I shared the elevator with a fairly conservatively dressed woman. I saw a lot of beige and brown... until I saw her shoes. You know how little tykes wear the light-up sneaks? Well, this lady had light-up heels. Clear, light-up heels. To the office. My lord, what bad taste. And when she got off the elevator she flashed and sparkled all the way down to her law office. A little research told me later that those are the shoes that strippers wear, which is a little more office appropriate. Light-up heels are so unpretty, but did bring a little flashy happiness to my day.

Crows Feet, Beware.

Last night I partook (partook?) in one of the most dangerous-to-the-wallet activities: shopping in a drug store. As I roamed the face wash aisle, perplexed at the anti-blemish, anti-aging, anti-blackhead washing opportunities, I am jolted from my intense concentration when I hear:

"Go alcohol free."
"Excuse me?" I said.
"Buy alcohol-free cleanser. Just look at me--" he whips off his black Dolce & Gabbana frames-- "I am forty-two years old. How old are you?"
"Twenty-six," I mumble, dropping my sometimes blemished, crows-footed head in shame.
"I look younger than you!" He exclaims, triumphantly, as he walks away.

So you know what I did? I bought into the hype and came home with anti-aging face wash. At age 26. But you know what? It is alcohol-free.

I Should Get My Mind Out of The Gutter....But...

I am a sick, sick girl. I admit it. But I always found it a little giggleworthy that the slogan of Saladworks Cafe was "The Original Salad Tossers." Everyone laugh a little at what we all know that slogan implies.

Anyway, I was visiting a Saladworks location in my hometown and noticed they changed their slogan to "The Original Salad Makers."

Clearly the Man at big bad corporate Saladworks understood the humor behind it all and decided to go boring, but safe.

But by God, that was funny.

Found in Translation

to really say what you mean...ah, how rarely it happens.

(At work)
Person 1: You look tired today...
Person 2: Really? Gee...

Translation...
Person 1: You look like shit today...
Person 2: Oh, yeah? Fuck off.

i wish people could be more obvious and up front about insulting you. i mean, its an insult within an insult-do they really think the insult is that well disguised that you won't pick up on it? being frank would make for much more exciting small talk. and what is with small talk anyway? if one more person makes a comment about the weather to me or the fact that it's almost the end of summer, i'm gonna poke them in the eye with my tide stick.

people, next time you want to tell someone they look like shit, without actually saying the word shit...just tell them they look so unpretty. they'll get it. and they'll thank you for your honesty and respect you for your blogger savvy.

Stalking toolbox.

I've just been told about another tool for the good old online stalking toolbox: ZoomInfo.com. It's a search engine for discovering "people, companies and relationships." Scarily enough, they pulled me right up.

Her Milkshake Makes Me Lactose Intolerant

oh why, oh why, oh why?!

here's my prayer tonight:

Dear God,
i know you have a lot of shit going on right now, but there is something i must beg of you to push to the front of the line...see God, it's Britney. she's just...she's just...she's just so god damn aggravating and annoying and gross and trashy and embarrassing and stupid and squishy.

yes, God, she's squishy too.

so, please. could you do something for the entire human race and put either her or the rest of us out of our misery?

Thanks J.C.

You rock the hizzy.

Shopping Connoisseur

A few pearls of wisdom from my mother, the market maven herself. As you read, please keep in mind that she is a successful business woman, a devoted wife and mother, a virtual taxi service for a very busy teenager, a volleyball player for an adult club, a sister, a daughter and a pet owner.

As I was walking out the door when I lived at home:
Mom: Where are you going?
Me: I have to pick up some sheets and bath towels for my new place.
Mom: I might have some coups. (her nickname for coupons)
Mom after handing over eight coupons: Store A takes expired and non-expired coupons. Store B takes coupons for Store A and Store C, but they can’t be expired. Store C won’t bend the rules at all. Store D will take Store A’s and Store E’s coupons, and they can be expired. They won’t take expired for Store C, and they won’t take any coupons for Store B. Store E only takes their own coupons, but if you find a better price somewhere else, you can take it back and they’ll match it. I don’t have any coupons for Store F, but I should be getting one within a couple weeks; so, if you take the receipt and coupon back then, they will honor the sale.

Phone call after moving into my new place:
Me: Mom, is $X/lb good for grapes.
Mom: You can find better this time of year. And, don’t be shy about not taking a lot of grapes. You can buy whatever amount you want. I don’t care if they prepackage them. I always take just what I need.
Me: That’s sick. Anyway, how can you tell if grapes are good?
Mom: Eat a couple.
Me: What?!?!
Mom: It’s ok. How else are you supposed to know? It’s either that or you have to return them when you find out they’re bad.
Me: You can’t return food.
Mom: Sure you can! Oh absolutely. If I buy something from Store L and then see it a couple days later on sale at Store M, I’ll return it.
Me: You probably waste more in gas by doing that.
Mom: No, I factor that in too. So, it has to be a decent-sized difference. Like a dollar or two.
Me: Ok what about this – 10 for $10 sales. Do I really have to buy 10 to get the sale?
Mom: No.
Me: What about sales like 2 for $6?
Mom: You can just buy one and still get the sale price, unless it says otherwise on the circular. But, you can’t get the sale price for “buy one, get one” sales. Unless you go to Store N. They are the only ones who do that.
Me: Ok.
Mom: You should really get in the habit of doing what I do – buy the Sunday paper on Saturday. Look at all the circulars and write on each one what you want from that store. Then, go through the coupons. They are in every Sunday paper. Clip the ones you will use and that way you can get even more money off. And, sometimes Store O has double coupon days. That’s the best!


Who has time to know this kind of stuff??? And, what exactly is the process to go about finding this out? Does she just test cashiers to see if they will give her her own way? It’s amazing – and not the good kind of amazing.

I'm no angel.

There's a brand of cat-call you get only in the city. Last night, around 11 pm I was unlocking the door to my building. A man walked by, carrying no fewer than four, countem four, cases of Pepsi.

"Where's Cholly?" he says to me.
"Uh, don't know." I reply. What??
"'Cause you're one of his angels."

Oh. Charlie. Charlie's Angels. Hilarious. And all that from a guy carrying huge amounts of cola.

Little Miss Sunshine

ok, i found the feel good, feel crazy, feel sad movie of the year: Little Miss Sunshine.

all of the characters were superbly constructed and this film touched me in my special place. the themes of the film include the deconstruction of the nuclear family, attempted suicide, the trials and tribulations of a repressed homosexual, the self-asteem of a young girl, and america's crazy obsession with self-help. oh, and the corrupt world of child beauty pageants.

go see it and thank me by posting a comment about how much i am a cinematic genius and that i should be given an honorary oscar because i am that fucking good, man.

that is all.

Smile Like You Mean It

when someone says something crazy that you don't agree with...

when someone dumps work on you and you can't breathe your so overwhelmed...

when someone insults you and doesn't even realize it...

when someone tries to do something nice for you and you hate it...

just smile like you mean it. and curse them inside. because it's totally healthy and sane.

Treat Yourself.

So this week has been one of those weeks where I've decided to save money. I think it's by default seeing as I do not get paid until next Thursday and have almost no cash to get me through the weekend and the subsequent four days. Oh...and a rockin' haircut.

Anyway, I looked down at my favorite (low) high heels today and realized that they needed some serious TLC or were simply going to be put out to pasture. And I hated that option. And as previously mentioned, I am not spending money on shoes today.

I did what any normal person would do and got my shoes re-heeled. And they look amazing. And for only 12 bones.

Kfed Lose Control Teen Choice Awards

OK, when you watch this spectacle, remember this is a performance (and I use that word very loosely) for the TEENS Choice awards...notice all of the bleeps and laugh in the irony with me folks.

City Slicker

While I have only been a bonafide city girl since July 1st, I have noticed a slight change in my attitude. Three prime examples come to mind.

The other day I was walking down the street at lunchtime and talking on the phone. I have sooo many friends so I have to fit the calls in whenever possible. Anyway, up ahead I saw one of the cults-with-a-cause that rule the city corners during all heavy traffic times. This particular group was either collecting for the poor kids in Africa or a mayor-hopeful's campaign fund. They all sound the same to me now. So, as I approached the intersection, I was harrassed by one of the philantropists-gone-bad. He was in my face, waving a clip board and ranting and raving about how much good I can do by signing my life away. I literally took the phone away from my ear, stared at him, put my hand up between us and yelled, "Excuse me. That's enough!" Then, with my still-raised hand, I did the brush off motion. Although I later felt kind of bad for treating someone like that, I think it is ridiculous to get harassed by these virtual beggars, especially when I am obviously on the phone. I do my part for charity, but I draw the line at giving a 15-year-old stranger my bank account number.

My second example occured at Shop Rite a few weeks ago. After I bought my groceries and walked out to my car, I was appalled to see the piss-poor park job that was next to my space. The maroon van was literally about a foot and a half over the yellow line on my side, and its driver's side was so close to my passenger side that I am baffled at how the culprit (who I just know was at least 400 pounds) managed to get out of his/her car. And, it's not like the car on the other side was over thier line so they had no choice. After I checked for damages to my precious Accord, I found a piece of paper in my car and wrote "Learn to park!" and lodged it into their door handle. Coming from the girl who never honks in anger, this was a pretty bold move.

Another problem I have, which I know has been discussed on unpretty before, are the elevator abusers. The distaste I have for those who run for elevators has been a life-long one, but lately I have copped quite the attitude about it. When I was still a suburban snob, I would ignore any mess-in-heels running and screaming for the elevator, opting instead to let it close in her face. I could go on and on about how I feel about these people, but I will stick to my original point. Since I have moved into a city zip code, not only will I let the elevator close, but now I also give a dirty look to the person, acting as if the mere request for an elevator hold has ruined my 17-floor ride and my day. Additionally, when the doors shut, I will turn to whoever else in there with me (even if they fumbled around to try to hold the elevator) and say something cockey like, "I don't care. I never hold the door for anyone. Like, are you that important that you can't wait another few seconds for the next one?!" So far, this tirade as been met with nervous smiles, averted eyes and confused glances. Obviously, these people are suburbanites.

I'm back.

i've returned to a hot apartment, a boatload of laundry, hundreds of emails, 55 voicemails (5 urgent) and my smiling friends. i'm exhausted but renewed in my love for lake winnapausaukee and new hampshire. also, i didn't fight with my parents at all! PS romance is stressful.

S.O.S. 2006

the end of august is almost upon us and you know what that means...labor day...and the unofficial end of summer (BOOOOHHH!)

so, now i'm about to do for you what i usually hate...especially when it happens around New Year's; you know - a version of a "best of 2000-whatever" list. here's my top five Songs Of Summer (S.O.S.) 2006. let me know if you agree...

5. "Stars are Blind" by the Robot formally known as Paris Hilton. i really never loved this song, but for some reason-i guess because she is slut bag with fewer brain cells than britney spears-everyone was so impressed (including myself as i bow my head in shame). i mean, wow. to think that she could actually get her shit together long enough to a) record a song and b) shoot a video and without killing herself...well, it was simply amazing, man. miracles can happen.

4. "Ain't No Other Man" by Christina Aguillera. ok, so this is notable because it was her unofficial comeback...comeback from what you may ask? she was headed down a one way road to Paris' hometown, Slutsville, Slutsylvania. but, then she hired a stylist and before you knew it, she had been de-dredded, un-pierced, and her ass-less chaps (made famous in her "Dirty" video) had been tossed in the trash with mel gibson's dignity. now, she looks like a mini-Marilyn Monroe and she's finally singing good stuff again.

3. "Promiscuous Girl" by Nelly Furtado and Timbaland. wow! and to think, a few years ago she was proclaiming herself "like a bird"...now she's just begging for it...shocking but, delightful. and i recently read that she's egyptian...which of course brings her cool factor up to like 1,000.

2. "Me & U" by Cassie. ok, i really think this is a tie for first, as i cannot stop listening to this song. i don't know why i love it, but i do. so shut up. is it the beat? is it her voice? is it the fact, that every time i listen to it, i have to stop what i'm doing and mouth the words like a freak? maybe it's all of the above. LOVE IT!

1. "Sexy Back" by Justin Timberlake. HUH?! that's what i thought the very first time i heard this song. i had no idea if was listening to a man or a woman let alone an ex-NSYNCer. i was amazed and a lot of other things i can't share with you as my dog is in the room with me as i type this...i mean, how hot - or should i say sexy - is this song? i really dig it and i can't wait to see him sing this at the VMAs on august 31st. he should do it wearing nothing but shackles...because he's my slave...go 'head, get gone with it!

Your Mom.

There is nothing that makes me laugh harder than when someone answers something I say with: "Your Mom." I don't know why I think it's so funny, but it stops me dead in my giggly tracks every time.

"I think we should probably go to XYZ for dinner."
"Your Mom thinks we should go there."

"I have to go to Happy Harry's to get something."
"I saw your mom there, making Harry Happy."

Yes, that was said.

This is a dumb post. But I don't want to type an article I am supposed to be writing right now. Blech.

Sorry Unusual, I am boring. And I hope I didn't offend anyone.

OK, where my bitches at?

what the fuck, yo!

is everyone and their mom away on vacations this week? i feel like not a single one of our peeps have checked in this week on so unpretty. now i know there are some of you out there who never comment (freaks that you are; its so sneaky to read and not comment, popsie)...but i know that there are those of you who read and post a comment or two everyday! the blog is so cold and lonely lately, i can't take it! please, please come back!

someone hold me.

Happy Birthday Madonna!

yes, today is the day that God gave us the Material Girl. if you are an avid reader of so unpretty, then you know that she is one of the three things i hold sacred in my heart (the other two being none of your fucking business).

my idol turned 48 today. here's some fun and interesting facts you may or may not already know:

She is good friends with Björk, who also wrote the song 'Bedtime Story' for her 1994 album, Bedtime Stories.

Gwyneth Paltrow was the Maid of Honor at her wedding to Guy Ritchie.

She has an IQ of 140.

She is only 5'4½" tall.

She is strongly Pro-Life. She was even in anti-abortion ads in the UK.

Her favorite flowers are white roses.

She is a fan of Katharine Hepburn.

finally, three great Madonna quotes:

"I'm a gay man trapped in a woman's body!"

"I think that everyone should get married at least once, so you can see what a silly, outdated institution it is."

"I sometimes think I was born to live up to my name. How could I be anything else but what I am having been named Madonna? I would either have ended up a nun or this."

Pen Pal in the Pen

there are many reasons that i could be ashamed of being apart of the female species...especially with representatives like paris hilton, the trashy playboy bunnies on the "girls next door", the nutty mothers on "wife swap", and The View's resident republican, elizabeth hasselback...but recently, petty shame became absolute horror when i heard on GMA that scott peterson actually receives over a hundred love letters a week from adoring women from all over the country.

i guess murdering your pregnant wife so you can have a hassle-free love affair with your girlfriend is just not that big of a deal-surely, he still needs love and affection. and these women who pen him passionate proclamations claim to be just the fuckheads to give it to him.

lets do a quick psychological profile of these freaks, shall we?

they have very healthy sex lives...with their father, father's friends, and their uncles.

they are great supporters of their girlfriends...they always give them a ride to the hospital right after they've had their asses beat by their abusive boyfriends.

they have a strong faith-based upbringing...Reverend Hank personally put jesus inside them.

they take a lot of pride in their appearances...acrylic nails and hot rollers go a long way.

hearing something like this makes me want to cry. are women that desperate? picture what they'd say to justify this: "ok, what scott did was really bad, but he's like, really, really sorry and he told me that if he could, he never ever would have done that...but hey, everything happens for a reason; like, think about it...i never would have met him otherwise..."

Shhh...on the Procrastination Tip.

It's Friday. It's 2:20. It's gorgeous outside. Where is your brain? My eyes were just darting wildly through the 'Vows' section of the New York Times, which proved to be completely amusing.

I just shared this observation with Beanorama and it turns out that, not only do we share a brain, but she finds them equally as hilarious.

Some excerpts:

...."The bride, who typically dates metrosexuals...."
....."Guests were treated to a cheeseburger buffet...."
...."The next day, they pretended their conversation never happened and ignored each other, as teenagers often do."

I just try to imagine a stodgy reporter prodding these couples and being over the moon at such bizarro details.

New York Times - Vows. Check 'em out.

Hello, Lake!

Goodbye freezing cold office! Goodbye rats squeeking near the trash outside my building! Goodbye toilet in my studio apt that I have to sit sideways on in order to fit!

Hello warm New England sun and freezing New England nights... hello bats and raccoons and daddy-long-legs... hello outhouses... hello lake baths... hello line dancing (yes, line dancing).

Tomorrow morning I will brave the security measures at the airport to head to good old Lake Winnapausaukee, New Hampshire, for a week of tennis and gin-n-tonics, fishing and cookouts... and even a talent show.

Peace. (Prinounced "PUH-EEESE.")

PA Mummie

Take one Polish American String Band, two 20-something girls, about 150 Philadelphia residents over 75, and add a cardboard cooler of Miller Lite. What do you have? The best night ever! I recently left a work event attended by upper-class yuppie Center City snobs to go to a South Philly neighborhood PA (Polish American) concert. Armed with my social lubricant of choice, I managed to break it down with the die-hard geriatrics (no pun intended) while the band performed their exuberant melodies. I am finding it difficult to put the experience into words. Thank god I wasn't on any sort of drug when I was there because I think I would have freaked out. It was almost impossible to wrap my sober head around the sight that I was beholding. Basically, every born-and-bread neighborhood Philly stereotype was in attendance. When the event was over, I had only one question: When is the next concert? My new hobby will be PA groupie, a mummie if you will.

Tea Partay

Scarily enough, I think some of us know these people. "Ahndrew! You'll ruin your Gucci loafers!!

Engaged women, beware.

This weekend I was lucky enough to take part in a fun bachelorette party for one of my pals (a frequent So Unpretty commenter). We were truly celebrating this marriage: it's good. It's solid. It's full of love. But from the unsolicited comments from ladies in the bar and even in a drugstore, you would think marriage is a disease.

Bitter women are everywhere, and for some reason they think they can spew their venom on anyone they want... even on young brides-to-be that they don't even know. This weekend, a bunch of washed up miserable middle-aged bitches traded in "congratulations" for comments along the lines of:

"Don't do it!"
"Run!"
"Oh, you are so young and hopeful..."
"You'll be divorced in six months."
"Marriage is a sacrament. Ha."
"You don't know what you're in for."

It was awful! Why do people spread their misery? Just because they aren't successful at their marriage doesn't mean my sweet little bride/friend will be. They should shut their traps and offer words of encouragement. Yes, marriage is hard. My bride/friend knows that. But she can still look forward to the joy it brings!

Nasty old bitches are so unpretty.

Nastola.

Yesterday morning, I scrubbed my bod and hair, put on my freshly laundered clothes, left my just-cleaned (for once) apartment, and walked outside... to find a condom on the steps of my building. It was not in a wrapper. It was unrolled. Luckily, it did not have the other telltale signs of being used (use your imagination, dirtbag). But it's still not a nice thing to see first thing. And who do you think would be making the beast with two backs on my steps? How uncomfortable. How unpretty!

Ode to a Lint Brush Roller

sorry for biting on your "ode to" shtick, beanorama, but i was just thinking to myself: i don't think life would be possible if it were not for my handy, dandy lint brush roller. having the privilege to live with an angel (and by angel of course i am referring to my white-haired dog) has lots of perks, but one BIG draw back is having all of her hair stick to my clothes. every morning, without fail, i must rollie down or else i look like an old lady named Frances who has 25 cats and a parakeet (the parakeet is just for good measure).

who invented this miraculous time saver/image booster??? well, i did try to find out, but google and ask.com were no help. i suspect the inventor is also the founder of post-it notes and bagged salads; two other inventions i KNOW i can't live without.

I Love You, I Hate You

things that i love...

my dog's face, particularly, her nose and muzz flaps (her cheeks)

my husband, and his amazing ability to always calm me down whenever i am upset about something

my friends, and how each one of them teaches me something about life

pepperoni pizza, well done

anything and everything madonna

watching mindless, yet delightful television (i.e. project runway, laguna beach, entourage, anything on E!)

dancing to music that lets me forget all my problems

french vanilla, iced latte lites with three splenda

funky necklaces and accessories


things that i hate...

the word "angus" and any burger commercial that brands itself as using "real certified 100% ANGUS BEEF"

the pressure to be as thin as possible

george dub'ya and his entire cabinet; oh and laura for marrying him

ignorance, racism, bigotry and injustice

gassing my car with fuel that costs me more than a happy meal with a side order of nuggets

the following shows: celebrity poker showdown, the view, wife swap, this old house

riding septa on a rainy day, hot day, or any day for that matter

being too tall to wear heels

sweatpits

Holy Shitballs.

I was just sent this ultra-scary link, www.familywatchdog.us, created by America's Most Wanted's John Walsh. You can enter your address, and you'll get a map with icons throughout your neighborhoods, telling you where registered sex offenders live and work. When you click on these dots a picture of a person will appear with an address and the description of the crime he or she had committed. Yes, it is big brotherly and a little creepy, but at the same time, facinating and terrifying. So very unpretty. But good if you are a parent.

And Coming Soon...

Beanorama, The Dancing Machine, Part Deux

Stay tuned.

The times, they are a-changin'.

Oh thank god. No more ditties about performance fleeces. No ladies in long skirts hopping around a pool. No cheesy blonde male models dancing like dorks about their cargo shorts. Old Navy has a new commercial, and for the first time ever... I like it!

The line "Lights camera action, we gonna get out fash' on" sticks in my head all day.

And you know what? It makes me want to get MY fash' on. (However, I am stuck wearing a sweaty size large tee shirt with a geeky logo, but hey- those are the perils of my bizniz.)

Lock up your daughters but let your sons roam free.

I read this paragraph this morning with interest:

"More girls lose their virginity in the summer than at any other time of year, according to researchers at Mississippi State University. There are all kinds of reasons. You remember. You had more free time and less supervision. You met a new guy at church camp whom you'd never see again, or were about to say goodbye to an old friend before you both went away to college. Maybe you were in love or maybe you weren't, but those sticky summer nights almost demanded surrender." (from the Washington Post)

First of all, I just think it's a sexy little summer statistic. But then I was wondering, why does it say girls lose their virginity? If girls are busy losing it in June, July and Aug, who are the boys losing it to in Dec and Jan? I was under the impression that it takes two to get tangled up in blue.

Or maybe this is a sexist comment in diguise. We are only worried about the gals losing their V card. The boys' V cards don't even deserve a mention? Unpretty.

Either way, as Labor Day draws close, maybe there will be a run on condoms in aisle five. At least I hope so.