Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Starting The New Year With A New Addiction

I have discovered Facecrack (aka Facebook). The evil networking website that sucks you into its black hole of neverending status updates and "friending" (BTW Daddyfiles, I friended you).

When I first discovered blogging, I became addicted to checking my comments. Is it that obvious I crave human contact? I didn't have time to constantly log on to Blogger and check my comments (all 1 of them), so I had it forwarded to my email. (I still do). The euphoria I felt (and still do) when I receive comments was beyond words. It was my new natural high. Now that I have discovered Facecrack, I have become addicted to checking my wall and finding out who has "friended" me.

I know that Facecrack has been around for ages, but I purposely steered clear. I know me. Once I find a new site, I play with it for hours. So, I stayed away. Much like I have avoided My Space. But, I had been desperately trying to locate an old friend from high school and all my research search engines/programs were coming up empty. I decided to bite the bullet and log on. I found him in 30 seconds. 2 hours later we had set up a lunch date for Christmas Eve. It was that easy. Soon after that, I had joined a few groups from my high school and "friended" 2 more people that I had missed seeing. I was in heaven and very much enjoying the unattractive photos of the "I too good/popular to talk to you" girls from high school. I'm such a bitch. One of my friends from high school wrote me that I looked fabulous and we should laugh at all the people who "peaked" in high school. Oh, believe me....I'm laughing. I know it's very immature of me....but I'm still laughing.

Then I started getting odd friend requests from people I barely know, kinda know and other people that I really didn't like. I currently have over 30 "friend requests" waiting for my confirmation. I decided to take pity on Partner #1 & Partner #3 and grant their friend requests. I even friended Surfer Dude. He usually posts some embarrassing photos of himself, so that's fun for me. I'm sitting very comfortably with 13 friends. All of them people I know really well and would actually hang out with if given the chance. (Partner #3 would have to pay me, though) Fancy Pants let me on the secret.....the more friends you have, the more popular you seem to everyone else. Whatever. I don't care about being popular. I'm not friending some psycho that I knew in high school just because she wants to be "most popular" with 700 "friends"

And what is it with updating your status every 5 minutes. "I'm pondering"......"Now, I'm done pondering"...."I'm taking a shower"...."I'm done taking a shower". I'm lucky if I can complete the act. How and why would I have the time to tell everyone about it.

I also went against the norm on my photo post. I posted a photo of myself without kids, cars, significant others, sexy poses, alcohol or weird cartoons. I'm such a rebel! I grabbed a head shot from my wedding one year ago. This was out of desperation because that is the last time anyone has taken a picture of me that didn't involve rude hand gestures or inappropriate faces. I hate to have my picture taken. I usually ham it up. A favorite is to stuff balloons up my shirt. My grandmother could build an album with those pictures.

I'm totally addicted. I will need an intervention soon or TH might take away my laptop.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Avoiding the 100 Things with Resolutions.

It's my 100th post. YES!! It's about fucking time. I feel like I've been writing forever! My profile has been viewed over 600 times and I have 14 followers. I feel good about that.
In the spirit of the New Year and trying to avoid the "100 Things About Me" that so many of you did for your 100th post, I will offer up my resolutions for the coming New Year. I have a doozy for the first one:

1) I have purchased this book:
I have decided that I'm going to do everything in it. Once a week, I will pick something, do it and then I'll do a blog post on it. I figure it will keep me out of trouble for a few weeks and keep you all amused at the same time. "The Double Daring Book for Girls" is suppose to be out Summer 2009. Let's see if I can make it through this one first. Anyone who wants to join it, let me know!

2.) Obviously, I need to lose some weight/get in shape or Princess HASAY aka Casey will hunt me down and kick my lard ass. So, I will go to the gym at least 5 days a week.

3) I will own a pair of thigh-high boots. Yes, I'm sure I will look like a hooker, but I REALLY want a pair. I will make them classy, I swear.

4) I will clean out my work email inbox everyday. I currently have 438 emails in my inbox, many of them over a year old. They need to be sorted and cataloged. I haven't really gotten to it yet. That might be because I receive 350 more everyday.

5) I will be more touchy-feely with people. As you all know, I'm not a hugger and I hate to be randomly touched. I will try to accept "the hug" more often so I don't seem like a frigid bitch. The holiday season has been tricky. It seems that everyone wants to hug. From now on, I will hug more.

6) I will go to the Museum of Art in Boston for an exhibit. I keep saying I'm gonna go, but I never do. I will go.

7) I will finally order that silly how-to video and find my G-spot. I am the Queen of Naughty, but I have yet to investigate this. Truthfully, I haven't found the need. I'm getting that special toy too. (ya know, 'cause I've just gotta have just one more)

8) I will organize all my mementos/photos into scrapbooks. I have boxes and boxes of shit from the 10 years TH and I have been together; ticket stubs, programs, photo's etc. We've been married for over a year and I still haven't put all my wedding photos into an album. My sister gave me a framed wedding picture for Xmas this year because she is so pissed I haven't done anything yet.

9) I will make TH put a shower door in our master bathroom. We have a beautiful master bathroom that we can't shower in because we STILL haven't installed a shower door. We are currently showering in the guest bathroom and when we have guests, we have to share. It sucks.

10) I will go on a ducktours ride in Boston. According to my mother, I've already done this.....when I was 4 years old. Hmmmmm......I wonder why I can't remember. We have them on the Cape, but Boston would be more fun.

11) I want to climb the Bunker Hill Monument and walk the entire Freedom Trail. Mom says I've done this before too. Still not remembering....

12) I will have more sex. Seriously, I still think I need more. Poor TH.

13) I will design and post to my own website. I own the domain name. WTF! Why haven't I done it yet?

14) I will mock Partner #3 more. I don't do it enough. The man drives me insane and I only get in a few good digs now and then. I think I'll really lay into him this year.

15) I will watch "Breakfast at Tiffany's", "Monty Pythons Holy Grail" and "Casablanca". I've never seen these movies and really should.

16) I will start using eyecream. I'm gonna be 32 years old. I should have started years ago. I do the all over moisturizing, but I need to focus on the eyes.

17) I will send birthday cards out to everyone I know. I always want too, but never actually get them in the mail. I'm more of a call-on-that-day or e-card kinda girl. In fact, I will send out cards for just any old time. I love getting cards so I will send out more.

18) I will lay out my clothes the night before work. I spend 10-15 minutes deciding what to wear each morning. If I laid them out the night before, I wouldn't have to do it.

19) I will clean out the bottom left drawer of my desk. This is my junk drawer. It's where I throw things I don't want to deal with. It's a black hole.

20) I will bring my lunch to work at least 4 days a week. This will help me on the fat ass side of the equation and help pinch pennies as well. You wouldn't believe the money I spend on take out!

21) I will try to break my "work all the time" fetish. Even though I enjoy it and feel that I need to be there, I'm sure there is something better I could be doing with my time. I will stop logging on while I'm at home "just to check my email" or "just to finish one thing"

22) I will remember to put on deodorant BEFORE I leave the house. I dress to the nines everyday, but always forget the deodorant. I have to keep an extra in my car because I always remember on my way to work.

23) I will finally post my photo on this blog. It may take me a month or two. But, I'll come outta the closet soon.

24) I will return personal emails promptly. I get a zillion work emails a day. If someone emails me on one of my personal accounts (I have 3), it might take me a day to get back to them. I feel terrible about this. I know how I would feel if someone did that to me.

25) I will have more fun. I'm always complaining that my life is so boring and I don't do anything. This year...........I will do things! I'm not sure what they will be, but I will do them.

I intend to keep this resolutions this year. 2008 was such a downer. I plan to make 2009 so much better.

Who else has got some?

Monday, December 29, 2008

Strange Taste

Just like every other horny, red blooded American woman (and I'm sure a few million others around the world), I worship at the alter of George Clooney. I have seen Ocean's Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen about a billion times and I endure Alicia Silverstone's annoying acting skills so I can see him in that leather Batman suit. The man is a god. I've even watched "One Fine Day" just to view the scene where he is holding the kitten. Hot man, cute kitty....YUM!

But, the damp panties stop there. Instead of following the high level of estrogen to Brad Pitt, Harrison Ford, or Leonardo DiCaprio, I lust after this:

Yes, that is Jack Black and yes, I've thought about seeking therapy. Whatever the reason, I think that this man is brutally hot. I have seen "The Holiday" a zillion times and not just because I think it's a great movie. I'm not watching it for Jude Law (who I personally think is a scuz), but for how hot Jack is! Just look at how he looks at her in this photo. Okay, now that I look at it again, he does look a bit psycho-killer. But, still hot.
If you thought that was bad, here are a few others that I lust after.
Kevin James. He was most adorable in "Hitch". I think that most of my crush is due to his comedy. And maybe his lips. Just look at that bottom one. Dontcha just want to bite it?

Chris Farley. I like his pre-psychotic meltdown days. I'm convinced if he and I had met, he would still be alive. He had self-esteem issues, I worshiped the ground he trod on. It would have been a perfect match! He's like a big teddy bear.
Vin Diesel. The man sets my loins aflame. You could grate cheese on those abs. Every time I see "XXX" I need to take a cold shower. (It's been on HBO alot lately so I'm very clean right now) He is the wallpaper on my office computer. The guys haven't noticed yet, but the time will come. I snagged a snapshot of him from the movie so I can say that I'm a fan of the film. Yeah....that's right....a big fan....a big fan of the scenes where he's shirtless. He does have these large man nipples that I overlook. Something just not right about that.
Sir Sean Connery. The older this man gets, the hotter he is. I've seen "The Rock" umpteen times and when he's wearing those fatigues....OMG! I get tingly just writing about it. Is it sick that he is old enough to be my grandfather and I have naughty fantasies about him reading to me? It's that accent. It's intoxicating. Some would say I have "daddy issues".
Sam Elliot. The man is a movie sex legend! I hate westerns! Yet, I have seen "Tombstone" more times than I care to admit. Val Kilmer does make it less painful, but Sam is so sexy. I've also watch "Roadhouse" a few thousand times. Not for Patrick Swayze, but for this mustached man-candy. He's a hundred years old too, but damn fine!

So my tastes are a bit eclectic and lean a bit towards the chubby side. I like my men meaty. Big K is appropriately nicknamed as he is built like a football linebacker. He's huge. He has big, hockey player legs and shoulders a midget could ski jump off of. Granted, he does need to loose a few pounds (or 35) to be healthy again. But, I find him to be incredibly hot.

So, when I'm not having naughty sex dreams about Pam Anderson (I have no lesbian tendancies and this dream is a constant problem. The guys at the office think it's hysterical), I'm lusting after chubby comedians, bald hotties and geriatric actors.

Anyone else have this issue? Or am I the only one bound for therapy.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Merry Xmas To All

I wish all my bloggy friends a very Merry Xmas. Wish me luck today. I have taken your advice and will travel to my Grandmothers for Xmas torture. TH has even agreed to go with me! If any of you are in the Sharon, MA area and hear sirens and screams, don't be alarmed. It's just the sign that I've had enough and have finally stuck AH in a snowbank head first. If you wish to bail me out, please meet me at the police station.

I have included a photo of myself at my Grandmothers before the dreaded AH arrival.

Lola babe, you were the first person I thought of when I saw this! Cheers!

Friday, December 19, 2008

My Expat Interview

If you haven't been over to see Expat at That Damn Expat, you must get your sweet ass over there now! Girlfriend is funny, insightful and needs our support now that she is getting marriage in less than 2 weeks and has the SIL from hell. I feel a kinship to her.

She got a fabulous meme and sent it over to me. Here's the 411:

Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

And here are my questions:

I'm a very new reader so please tell me about yourself, in five sentences or less. I am a loud, outspoken,"guys-gal" that likes sports, drinks beer and might occasionally belch within hearing of others. The girly-girl side of me requires a shoe collection that would make Imelda Marcos proud, I have a standing appointment for a mani/pedi every two weeks and I love to sit and chat over a glass (or five) of wine. I can say blow job without making a face and I'm not embarrassed to admit that I have googled "Jessica Alba naked pictures" to see if she really looks that good. I am choosy about those I associate with, but if I choose will have a loyal, loving friend for life.

If you had to get rid of all your shoes except one pair, which pair would you save? These. (Sorry it's so fuzzy)

I got them at a designer clearance sale for $10.00. I've never seen anything like them. The heels are a bit shorter than I'm use to (under 4 inches), but women fall all over themselves when they see them. I've never received so many compliments!
What is the one thing you love the most about yourself? My unflappable ability to digest sensitive information. A friend can tell me just about anything and I will accept it and try to understand. TH says that I'm too PC and a bit naive. But, people will tell me their most precious, dangerous secrets and it doesn't change how I feel about them. If they're not hurting anyone, it's just another interesting thing about them.
What is the one thing you like the least about yourself? My total lack of self esteem. It fucks with my life sometimes and makes things very difficult.
I see you love Sex and the City. Which character is most like you? I LOVE Sex and the City. (In fact, I'm watching a rerun right now). I would say that I'm most like Samantha. I am very free-thinking about sex. BTH (Before TH), I was a little trampy. I love crazy fashion and have strong opinions.
There, I have successfully completed the interview. Is anyone game? Do you dare to offer yourself up to me and my crazy ways? Comment away!

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Drama Queen

As I have posted (numerous times), Partner #3 likes to drive me insane. He routinely crashes his computer, losing things 10 minutes after I hand them to him and calls me continuously through-out the day. He calls me on Saturday mornings and afternoons, 5 minutes after I leave the office, 5 minutes before I arrive at the office in the morning and other random times during my life. He calls with impossible projects, emergency tasks (life-sustaining to him, normal for others) and sometimes he's driving somewhere, gets bored, runs out of people to call and decides to call me and "chat". This would be fine if I wasn't in the middle of the 67 earth shattering projects that he asked me to do 3 calls ago. When he is in the office, he calls my extension endlessly and makes a zillion trips to my office. If I'm not in there, he will hunt me down.

He is a brilliant, successful, very sweet man but absolutely, most completely, in every way possible, totally maniacal. I spend everyday in a ball of panic....wondering what will blow up next. Always on the verge of an ulcer, I'm surprised I'm not doing shots of Pepto with my coffee.

He calls me when he's on least 4-5 calls during the morning of the first day. Then, the calls taper off to one every 3-4 hours. It doesn't matter if he's on top of a mountain preparing to ski down or lying on the beach. If he can get 1 bar of a wireless signal, he'll call me:

"I was just thinking....." "Could you find out....." "Call so-'n-so and tell them...." "Find this file, copy it and send it to...." "Do you know....?" "Have I....?" "Where is....?" "I need/want .....etc.

This doesn't even begin to explain the barrage of emails that flood my inbox through-out the day as well as the dozens of text messages.

Have you seen "The Devil Wears Prada"? That is my life. But without the free clothes and trip to Paris.

Just last week he went on a mini-vacation. So that means I get a "mini-break." The day before he departed, we spoke up until I left that evening and even on my ride home. Major projects had been completed that day and we had to finalize the final details....17 times. After that, he was gone!! I was free....well....sorta.

The next day, I came into the office expecting 3-4 voicemail messages and umpteen emails from him time stamped during the wee hours. But, there was nothing. My voicemail light was dark and my inbox was filled with the usual smut and assorted messages from the other associates. Nothing from Partner 3.

By 11 am, I was a bit nervous. No emails, no phone calls....not even a text. Had his plane been hijacked? Was he stuck on a layover some where with no wireless signal? Even then, he probably would chance a germy pay phone just to tell me about his experience.

At 1 pm, nervousness had turned to worried and utter panic. I was convinced that he was mortally wounded, lying in a ditch without a wireless signal. Nothing short of death would keep him from calling in to torment me.

At 4 pm, I had an epiphany! I have become addicted to this drama. I was so use to be being on the edge every moment of every day that without the constant adrenaline rush I was freaking out. I've never thought of myself as a drama queen, but here I was wondering where my daily anxiety shot was.

Needless to say he is back in the office this week and has returned to making my life hell. Thank God! Those 4 days without him made me crazy! I would rather know when I'm going to be tortured then sit and wonder where it is.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Where's My Guidebook?

When you are born, your parents are there to tell you what's right or wrong, good or bad, and in my case to ground me every chance they got. They were there to make most decisions for you. But, now that you're an adult, what are you suppose to do when you need to make a decision or need some guidance? Yes, that's have to make all those on your own. I think that as you graduate high school they should hand you a guide book along with your diploma. A guidebook entitled: "This Is What You Should Do If....."

I'm so tired of trying to figure out what to do. Why isn't there a Google like search engine that you can type in a query and magically the solution will appear. Everyone else thinks that they have the answers. But, what if you're lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking "What if.....What do I do.......How can I fix this.......?" Where is my guidebook? I'm not talking about the silly "Life's Little Instructions Book." H. Jackson Brown Jr. may take the lemons life brought him and whip up some lemonade. But, what if life has brought me a huge crate of fucking watermelons? Should I inject them with vodka, let sit overnight and begin munching in the morning? How does that help my troubles? Now, I'm drunk, I have a stomach ache and with that much watermelon and vodka in my system, intestinal distress can't be far behind. Jackson, why can't you write a book like "Life's Little Instruction Book On How To Tell Your Husband That He Needs To Take Better Care Of Himself Because You're Afraid He's Going To Have A Heart Attack Because He Stresses Himself Out and Eats Poorly." See if you can pen that up in time for Christmas.

Or there's that "Chicken Soup for the Whatever". These books are precious but not much help. I need one titled "Chicken Soup for the Problems You Have With Your Asshole Brother That Are Making You Not Want To Go To Your Grandmothers For Christmas And Now She Is Royally Pissed At You" They haven't come up with that one yet. I looked. There are 6 Bowls of Chicken Soup For the Soul as well as 2 Cups. I wonder how long I'll wait for mine.

I'm fairly happy with life, but apparently, I should be happier. "Climb your Stairway to Heaven:
the 9 habits of maximum happiness"
David Leonhardt thinks that in 9 steps I could be happier. How about the "9 Steps To Figuring Out Why You Really Don't Feel Like Getting A Flipping Xmas Tree This Year And Would Like Everyone To Stop Bugging You About It" I'm sorry, need to speak up on that one.

Marci Shimoff thinks that I should be "Happy for No Reason: 7 Steps to Being Happy from the Inside Out" Why would anyone want to be happy for no reason? If I'm happy, I want to know why and how come. This way, I can do it again. She isn't very helpful, is she? Marci, if I was happy for no reason do you think I would be bitching right now? How about this one: "7 Steps To Being Happy That Your Father-in-Law Judges Peoples Worth By Their College Degrees And You Only Have An Associates Degree That You Aren't Using"

There are self-help books, people giving advice, people telling you to "Look within yourself for the answer" That phrase pisses me off. If I knew the answer, it would be in me. I don't need to stick a camera up my ass and poke around for it. I would know if it was there. It's exhausting. There are guidebooks for marriage, but none that tell you how to tweak the little things. All of the books are written to save the marriage that is about to implode or the one that has already failed. There should be a book titled "Your Marriage is Perfect Except For One Tiny Thing That Is Driving You Up A Wall and We're Gonna Tell You How To Fix It" I have looked all over Barnes & Nobles and search Amazon daily. There is no book like that.

Why don't these authors write about something that I can use? There's lots of love and sunshine out there to spout off on. But, I've got some big ones here. Get typing.

Monday, December 15, 2008

So This Is How You Found Me

As an admitted Google whore, I can say with utter certainty that I have Googled just about everything. My name (Did you know that I was a very famous black slave in the Civil War and also a model?), my exboyfriend's names, TH's exgirlfriend's name (I was disappointed that she wasn't doing midget porn or something equally as weird). I've Googled for aerial maps, street maps, naked pictures of celebs (sometimes I get bored while eating lunch) and to find the answer to a burning questions like "What would happen if you crossed at a pear with a banana." (Again, bored during lunch) If someone can't find the answer to a question my immediate response is "Why don't you Google it?" How in the world did we ever survive without it?

After reading Badass's and Lola's posts about their top search queries, I decided to check out mine. After all, I am the queen of inappropriate posts. One can only imagine what search could drive a visitor to my blog.

Porn Golf Ball Washer - And you guys think I'm twisted! This was a search from our friends over in the United Kingdom. Kat....What the hell is going on over there? This is a new kinda kink! And wouldn't that hurt????

Orgasm in a Cup - I used this phrase once to describe a good cup of coffee. Why would anyone search for that? There are better ways to achieve that feeling.

Secretary Spread - The new year is upon us and people are looking to lose the secretary spread. Maybe Club HASAY can help them. I know I can't. I ate a mountain of beef stew over mash potatoes last night. MMMMmmmmmm! With buttered hot rolls tooooooooooo!!!!!

Rough Maid - Someone from Indonesia is looking for a housekeeper with a side of spanking. I'm not sure how I can help them. I hate housework. Even if you paid me, I would still hate it and if you tried to spank me while doing it I would probably shoot you.

Professional Letter of Praise - Why in the world would this lead you to my site? My guys abuse me, not praise me! And they would never take the time to write it all down in a letter. Sometimes I can't even get them to email me stuff.
Caffeine Is Bad for Orgasms - I've never had a problem. I drink a zillion cups of coffee a week and manage just fine, thank you. This was paired with Caffeine Orgasms. I wonder how that would work? If someone knows, please tell me! I would be happy all day!
Cheeseburger Duel - Apparently someone from Italy was hungry and feisty at the same time. They must have been surprise when they stumbled upon little old me. How does this work? Is it and eating contest or something?
Beer Allergy Sneezing - This would be the worst allergy. Get this person some Claritin Clear, STAT!!!!!!
My fucking ex blog - I'm not sure what to say about this one. Obviously someone has some pent up rage.
Patricia Diamond - Girlfriend is a porn star! (I had to Google her to find this out. I didn't see my blog on the search list, though) My fans in Hungary are searching for her. Sorry guys!

Turtleneck flip flop - So, is this a new kinda shirt or a new kinda shoes?
Fattie Dominatrix - Hey, we've all got our fetishes. Someone was looking to be abused by a dominatrix who is on the large side. What ever turns you on. Roll in flour, find the wet spot?
Fat Ass Diamond - Is this different than a Big Ass Diamond? Is someone looking for a diamond that is larger on the bottom than the top? What type of cut would that be?
Taco Bell - Oh the little lady who was looking for directions to her nearest Taco Bell might have stumbled upon my site. Do you think she was as horrified as Casey to find out that I've never been there?

Women "crotch watching" - Someone else is out there looking for camel toes too!

Most of the other search queries were too disgusting for me to post. All this proves it that I'm not the only one out there with a dirty mind! But, some of you are down right twisted! Happy Monday!

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

3 Months or So

When I started this blog, I told myself that I would make it edgy. I wanted to cross the line, step into the red, and provoke. I'm satisfied that I have done just that. I admit I occasionally spout off something cutesy, sentimental and girlie. But, fuck it! I've got a bit of that rolling around in me and it sneaks out. I know Josh gets a bit frustrated when I become benign and he always calls me to tell me.

I also told myself that I would not be overly bloggy about my dogs. TH and I don't have kids and I'm not sure if we plan too. We're dog people and our dogs are our kids. We don't go overboard, planning doggy birthday parties and such (not meant to be an insult to those that do) but we really love them and they are part of the family. When TH and I hooked up, I was already in possession of my little Lab and our Boxer can later.

I was 19 and six months before I had just moved into my first apartment. Even though I had a boyfriend, it was lonely. I had grown up with pets and there were always animals around. When asked, my landlords were kind enough to allow me to adopted a dog. I eagerly went to the pound and was overjoyed when I discovered a litter of Lab/Border Collie puppies. I picked out the most precious one with a white spot on her nose and white socks on her feet. I took her home 2 days later.

She was a terror.

The first 2 nights she cried the whole time and I was 2 seconds away from shipping her back to the pound. She was making me miserable. She was a monster to housebreak and ate everything in sight. I was miserable. But, common sense and love prevailed and I made it through that terrible 2 weeks.

12 years later she is still making me nuts. She is smarter than smart, gets into everything and can some how manage to pull food off the counter even if it is 3 feet from the edge. Not only does she sleep in our bed if we forget to close the bedroom door, but she pulls the covers down and nests in the sheets. She is the only dog I know that actually watches TV and understands what's on. She barks at the dogs or any other animal. She has a weakness for perfume and "nice" smells. If there is a magazine with perfume samples in it she will pull it on the floor and roll around on it until it's in tatters. I haven't finished a Cosmo in months. She loves to get in the shower once we're finished and rub herself against the walls, enjoying the smell of soap and shampoo. She is a wacko. She is my baby. There is nothing like the unconditional love of a dog. She greets me at the front door every night, totally enthralled with the idea that I'm home and she will be able to follow me all over the house as I do my nightly chores. Then as I settle down on the couch to watch TV shows, she bypasses her comfortable, very expensive dog bed to lie at my feet or on my feet if they happen to be on the floor. She has to be near me at all times. Sometimes it drives me up the wall. Especially if she decides to curl up at my feet like a speedbump while I'm cooking on the stove.

It was during her yearly wellness appointment, 2 days before Thanksgiving that I got the news. She has liver cancer. The vet was almost in tears (he just lost his dog last year to the same thing) as he told me she's got maybe 3 months or so. In my typical stone faced emotionless expression that hits me when I get bad news, I started peppering him with straight questions: What can I do to make her more comfortable? Is she in pain? When do I know that it's "that time"? He regarded me with curiosity as I seemingly digested this news as if I was receiving a diagnosis on a problem with my car. He seems alarmed that I wasn't crying and flailing about. I was in business mode. There was no way I was going to break down in front of him.

I was fine for the next hour as I casually went to the market, picked up the Thanksgiving turkeys and drove home. Little Lab was with me the whole time, dancing around in the backseat, thrilled to be on a car ride. It wasn't until I got home that I lost it. She had wore herself out at the vet and in the car and had settled herself down in her dog bed to rest. Still dressed in my work suit and heels, I fell to my knees in her bed, dragged her into my lap and sobbed and sobbed for what seemed like hours. She looked at me with her hazy old lady eyes that have still have eagle-eye vision and seemed confused. Why was I carrying on this way and why wasn't I running around the house doing chores so she could be under my feet?

It's been a few weeks and she's shows no sign of stopping. She's still a huge pain in my ass and gets into everything all the time. But, now instead of yelling at her, TH and I just tisk tisk and let it pass by. On Thanksgiving she ate more turkey than we did and we no longer worry about giving her too much cheese (too much dairy isn't good for dogs). Her kibble days are no longer and she will be eating homemade food from now on. She's allowed to lounge on the incredibly expensive leather couch and always overstays her welcome on the bed. She has carte blanche on everything. I know her time is short and let her do whatever she wants.

I dread the day that it all will end. Even more, I dread how my reaction will effect my guys in the office. Not one of them is "dog" person, so no one will be able to understand how on that day my whole world will fall apart and it is more than likely I will have to take the entire day off. I'm sure that "It's just a dog" will be floating around as my absence is noticed and explained. I dread the false sympathy and the curious looks.

'Cause she's not just a dog to us, she's our family.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

I'm Grown up..and Apparently Forgetful Too!

Only BadAss caught my faux pas on yesterdays post. It was suppose to be a list of 25 things that made me a grown up and I only listed 12. I really hope that isn't a sign of things to come. Am I really THAT old that I'm forgetful? Or, is there a slight possibility that I was posting with my head up my ass. Hmmm.

The Rest of The 25 Things That Tell Me I'm Old

13. Your car insurance payments go down and your car payments go up. When I married TH I had to add him to my car insurance. He's had a "few" speeding tickets. My insurance went up $600/year. I was not pleased.

14. You feed your dog real dog food instead of leftover McDonald's. My dog has been in the most expensive dog food since she was born. If I fed her McDonald's she would gas me outta the house.

15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt. The only time I can sleep on the couch is if I'm totally exhausted. Right now might be a good time. Besides, we have the king of all sectionals. It is enormous and leather. I like it better than the bed.

16. You take naps. All the time. Mostly, they're involuntary. I'll wake up and the book I've been reading is on my face.

17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the start of one. I'm lucky if I can get Big K to go out at all. He can be such a slug. If we go for a coffee I'm happy

18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 am would severely upset rather than settle your stomach. If I am up at 3 am, I'm gonna find something better than chicken wings to eat.

19. You go to the drug store for aspirin and antacids rather than condoms and pregnancy tests. ....and birth control pills, makeup, face cream, etc.

20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "Pretty Good Shit". Hey, my favorite bottle of Merlot is $12.00. Some of those expensive wines suck.

21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time. I love breakfast. I could eat it anytime. Breakfast burritos are the perfect food.

22. "I can't drink the way I use to" replaces "I'm never gonna drink that much again". Both of those phrases apply to me. I never learn from them, though.

23. 90% of the time you spend on the phone is for real work. Sure....yeah....right....ummm....that's true.

24. You drink at home to save money at the bar. Drinking at home is the warm up before going to the bar.

25. When a friend says she's pregnant, you say "Congratulations" instead of "Oh Shit, What happened". Again...I am reminded that I have no friends. I'm pathetic.

There you go! Head removed from ass and I have finished!

Monday, December 8, 2008

OMG, I'm a Grown Up

This list was sent to me by Surfer Dude. I'm not sure he was rubbing it in my face that I'm a bit older (4 years) than him or if he is still doing all this . His adorable girlfriend says that his life should be titled "The Adventures of Man-Boy".

Anywhoo....this is a bit light for a Monday. I'm sure I scared everyone with my coochie story last Friday. I need something a bit blah today. It's fucking 15 degrees out here with a windchill of minus 0. Winter on Cape Cod, baby!

25 Ways to Tell If Your a Grown Up

1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them. I never grew pot but an ex boyfriend did. My houseplants are sort of alive when I remember to water them. I'm convinced that the ones that die have committed suicide.

2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question. I will have sex ANYWHERE. But, TH is a big guy and I'm not a petite little thing so a twin bed is a challenge. But, ya'll know me! I love a challenge.

3. You keep more food in the fridge than beer. I have a beer fridge in the garage. I'm a smart grown up.

4. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed. I'm working out so hard these days I'm lucky if I can make it until 11:00 pm. It is a rare night when I'm up super late and it's usually because I'm checking on blogs.

5. You hear your favorite song in the elevator. I was brought up on every kind of music. I was a violinist and I'm sure I was one of the only 12 year olds that listened to Madonna and Glen Miller. I still do!

6. You watch the weather channel. I HATE the weather channel! TH puts it on all the time and it's like fingernails on a chalk board to me.

7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "break up." I don't have any friends. I'm probably the oldest living woman who has never been a bridesmaid or a maid of honor. I got teary eyed when I watched "27 Dresses". I was so jealous of her.

8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14. Try 2 days. I have taken two full day off from work this year.

9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as dressed up. I only have 3 pairs of shows that aren't heels (not counting flip flops). I am always dressed up now.

10. You're the one calling the police because those fucking kids next door won't turn down the stereo. My neighbors play the drums and guitar. But, we don't complain. We're pretty loud too. I have called the police when the neighbors son has a party. He's an asshole. A 20 year old guy that lives with his parents and mooches off of them. He's friends were parked all over my front lawn.

11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you. Only my grandmother does this. Everyone else still treats me like I'm 6. My mother sometimes makes the comment "Are you old enough to be drinking that, young lady?" when she sees me drinking wine. It's sad.

12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore. I've never been to Taco Bell. I'm a Mexican food snob. But, there's not much I won't do for a Big Mac at 2:00 AM.

I'm such an old fart. Happy friggin' Monday!

Thursday, December 4, 2008

A Trip to Brazil by Way of Germany

I've often screamed at the top of my lungs about my love for the Brazilian bikini wax. It's not the pain I love, you naughty people. But, the after effects. So imagine the dismay and panic when my Brazilian Queen of Pain fell off the radar and I was without someone to tidy my lady bits. This is the same type of pain one might feel when their favorite hairdresser takes off. Hmmm...there's a bit of similarity here. Hair? I know that I have seemed obsessed with crotches lately; mine, David Lee Roth's stunt double, the girl with the frontal wedge etc. But, whattaya gonna do? I'm a bit perverse like that.

So, I'm freaking out and call the spa to see if there is someone else who can help me. This isn't like picking a new hairdresser off the floor of a salon. This person is going to be pouring lava hot wax on my Hoo Ha. I need to make sure he/she is a professional and won't scar my most favorite part of my body.

The owner of the spa assures me she has someone who is even better than the Queen of Pain. I booked an appointment and waited impatiently for the day to come. I was running a week behind on appointments and was feeling a bit like Chewbacca. I was doing the best I could not to mess with it myself. Number One rule in Brazilian Waxing: Don't shave. Do not touch it or all the years of hard work will go down the drain. Every time I showered, I looked longingly at my Venus razor.

Monday was the day and I left work early (read: 5PM, but I came back after) and beat a path down to the spa. It was at this time I met The Wax Natzi.

I'm not kidding you. This isn't a clever little nickname that I have come up with. This is the title she goes by and is PROUD if it. She is a 57 year old lady from Germany and even though she came to the USA twelve years ago, she still speaks with the thickest Germany accent. Accents are like kryptonite for me. I cannot understand them and just ordering Chinese food requires an interpreter.

Now I'm shut in a room with this women and I can only understand her when she speaks in short sentences and speaks slowly. This was going to be a long appointment.

She turns to me as she's mixing up the wax and says "Take all off"

I looked at her and said, "I'll I have to do is lift my skirt up. I don't wear underwear and these are thigh highs"

"Oh, you are sexy girl! Good Good! Get up on table"

Did she just call me sexy? Hmmm. I'm gonna mark that one down as her being European and accepting. Most people think I'm a tramp for going pantiless and wearing thigh highs and garters on an ordinary day. Hey, it makes me feel good! I'm wearing a business suit or professional outfit over it. No one knows that I'm outfitted like a cheap hooker underneath. Well, maybe a cheap hooker who shops at Victoria's Secret for classy stuff.

She starts the torture and I'm waiting for the first rip. That's usually the worst and you get use to it after that. I waited and waited; I felt movement but no pain. I peeked down and saw she was already a 1/4 of the way done. Damn this women was good! She was chatting away at top speed and I was only getting every other word or so. I'm pretty sure she was dissing the job done by the Queen of Pain. Oh well, every one's a critic. I started to tune her out until I heard this:

"You have very nice one. I see lots. You be happy with what God give you."

Okay, I'm pretty sure she just gave me a comment on my box. How do you respond to something like that? It's not like I'm with a guy and he's giving me a compliment. This is a 57 year old women who is spending more time down there than my doctor and being just as invasive. She is going places that the Queen of Pain didn't and still chatting away giving me advice.

"Every women should be Lover to her man and Whore."

Oh........My......God! What is up with this women? I'm liking how she's tending to me down south, but sex advice? This was unreal. Then she asks me the ultimate question:

"How often you and husband make a love. He like you do this, yes?"

I am staring up at her in shock. This wasn't a girlfriend or one of the guys at the office asking invasive questions. She had her hand on my cooter and was asking about my love life.

"Umm. Yeah, he likes it. We do alright." I'm all for talking about my sex life and anything else, but not when someone is doing reconnaissance on my nether regions.

"You very healthy girl. Take good care of self." she said as she was twisting me into impossible positions and getting so close to me I could feel her breath on my skin. She was attacking me with tweezers now and I was trying not to yelp in pain.

"Thank" I said between deep breaths, trying not to squirm and scream. "I try to eat well and exercise as much as possible"

She popped her head up and looked me straight in the eye, shaking the tweezers at me. "Never eat late at night. But if you do, make love for one hour after to rid calories from body"

"I'll remember that" I said. I was afraid not to agree with her. She had tweezers and I was naked from the waste down.

"Okay! I finished!" She said and grabbed a mirror. "You look"

I thought she meant for me to look at the job she did on my eyebrows. I looked and nodded my approval. It was a great job. Probably the best ever.

"No No" she took the mirror from my hands, grabbed my ankles and swung my legs over my head. "You look here. I do nice job. All perfect now, yes?" I feel violated now? YES! To appease her I peeked around my legs and looked in the mirror. I was having flash backs of my junior high school years. After reading "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" I did the mirror trick to see what everything looked like. Here I was in a spa with the Wax Natzi checking out my de-pelted beaver.

It was perfect. She did an amazing job. It only took an hour and much humiliation on my part. But, it was perfect.

I rebooked again for 3 weeks. What's a little humiliation and German sex advice to keep me from being perfect.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Fat Ass Update, Guesting and an Anniversary.

I am guesting today over at Half As Good As You. Casey, the HASAY goddess and diet dominatrix was asking for guest posts. I obliged because I just love her like that. Check me out! Make sure you leave some abusive comments here as well so I feel loved.

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but today is my two year anniversary with the firm. I know two years doesn't seem like much, but the first year without Fancy Pants was brutal. I survived the receptionist known only as the Evil C and the Dictator from Hell. Thank God both of them have since left and Fancy Pants and I now rule the kingdom. I have survived in my gilded cage and haven't committed any acts of violence toward my guys.....yet. I don't expect a parade or anything and please, cancel the strippers. However, I wouldn't shun an inflated paycheck at the end of the week and maybe a massage appointment for the middle of the week would be nice. I would like to thank my boys, especially Fancy Pants for two years of absolute hysteria. May the next year bring more panic, homicidal urges, frustration, fury, humor, laughs and love. You guys make everyday as painful as the next, but I still love ya.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Diving Down and Crotch Watching

Things are getting stale here on the Cape, but that's why I love it. After the last lost tourist has finally found the bridge and makes their way off this rock, the real party begins. The natives emerge after spending the entire summer slaving away at their resort jobs waiting on those ungrateful bastards or those of us that hibernate in our homes because we can't go out on the main roads or we will be stuck behind some fucking minivan full of people driving 15 mph because they can't seem to find the beach even though this place is a fucking peninsula and all you have to do is go north or south and you will hit water within 5 miles.

Damn that felt good. But, I digress. My intense hatred of tourists can wait for another post.

TH and I actually went out on a Saturday night. I'll give you a minute to recover from your surprise.

Better? Okay. It took me a few breaths to get through it as well.

TH is a die hard Van Halen fan. He had the biggest man-crush on Eddie Van Halen, believes he is a Rock God and we should all worship at his red, black and white splattered converse sneakers. When Van Halen decided to tour again this year with David Lee Roth I thought he was going to have a epic meltdown. We just HAD to go to both shows. I admit it, I dig Van Halen....but only if Sammy Hagar is singing. I think David Lee Roth is the disgusting. There is nothing worst that a guy in his 50's who thinks he's 30 and is still trying to bang all the young broads. What makes it worse is that they want it. Gross! The man's hair is so bleached that it's falling out of his receding hairline.

When we went to the concert I was relieve that Dave had cut his hair and invested in hair plugs. The show was fun for me; for TH it was a religious experience.

But that's not what we did on Saturday night. On Saturday we went and saw a Van Halen cover band called "Diver Down" (for those of you who are non-fans, Diver Down was the name of a Van Halen album). We have seen them many times before and it is an entertaining way to spend a Saturday night. They tour down here maybe once a year or so. TH and I have seen them a few time and have even met the band. They are a cool bunch of guys. We went and saw them at a biker bar many years ago and the guitarist protected me during a huge brawl. I thought it was cool that some Hell's Angel bouncer was going after some guy with a baseball bat. TH thought I was crazy that I thought the whole thing was cool. What can I say? I don't get out much. Bar fights interest me. I'm not quite sure what had gone down to make the crazy Hell's Angels guy so mad, but he was pissed. That was one of the more interesting Diver Down experiences. Saturdays show was in the entertainment section of a nice restaurant that is frequented by the 60+ crowd. No bar fights that night.

Yes, ladies and gentleman. That is a shirtless man wearing golden sequined snakeskin skintight pants and a ladies wig. The first time I saw it I nearly wet my pants I laughed so hard. But, his butt looks really nice.

David Lee Roth is played by a guy named Charlie. By day, Charlie is a clammer in Chatham here on the Cape. All his fishing buddies come to see him preform and they are a rowdy crowd. Charlie is actually really talented and sounds an awful lot like DLR. I just can't get over the fact that he is in spandex and a ladies wig. In fact, he has been having so much trouble finding these offensive outfits that the ladies are now offered $5.00 off per ticket if they donate their old spandex to him. I have an awesome pair of velvet leopard print that I'm never giving up. No way, no how.

This is Amos. He plays Eddie Van Halen. Amos is a from England and I think he is the most adorable little man. He's quite petite and comes up to my shoulder. When he's just hanging out talking to me I just want to pinch his cheeks he's so cute. But, when he's on stage shredding Eruption, I just want to tear his clothes off. There is nothing yummier than an awesome guitar player.

This is the drummer. I know absolutely nothing about him.

I couldn't get any pictures of the bass player. The drunken crowd had reached the front by that time and every picture I took from then on had 4-5 hands in it. These pictures were also taken with my camera phone. Thus the poor quality.

So the band is three quarters way into their set and the place is getting wild. I was the volunteered designated driver that night and TH was already feeling really good. Any minute, I was sure he would start doing this head bobbing dance move that is a combination of moderate headbanging and a seizure. When other people watch him dance and then look at me, I give them the "I know it's embarassing to watch, but I love this man" look. To be fully executed, this patented move requires 6-7 beers and he was well on his way. Being stone cold sober and surrounded by drunk buffoons, I had reached my Van Halen tolerance level earlier than usual and began my favorite game....people watching.

I had eyeballed a half circuit around the room and had made my way back to the stage again. Charlie was doing a fabulous cover of "Running the Devil" complete with DRL inspired moves. As he performed the signature move of "head thrown back, chest and pelvis jutted forward" I noticed something I hadn't seen during the first part of the show. Someone had forgotten to wear his skivvies underneath those skin tight pants and every pelvis jut was making the turtle pop out of the shell.

After that it was like a car accident. I couldn't tear my eyes away. In only a half a song (that's how much pelvis jutting is required) I was confident I could describe....with utter certainty....exact size and width. It was very chilly that night and a bit cold in the room so I'm gonna give him an extra inch out of kindness. This image still haunts my brain and not in a Wow-that-was-hot but in a Eewww-why-won't-this-vision-leave-my-head.

What is it with me and crotch watching? First it's the camel toe, now the turtle is out of the shell. REMINDER PEOPLE: Look in the mirror before you leave the house. Twist and turn to make sure nothing pops out or gets pinched. There are perverts like me on the street that see everything!

Friday, November 21, 2008

Beware of the Frontal Wedge

I have had some serious fashion faux pas in my day. I pegged my pants, I had those awful bangs, I did the thing where you pull your hair up in a ponytail to shave the very back of your head (the people who thought that up should be shot, I wore acid washed denim on denim, I had scrunchies, those rubber bracelets that Madonna made so very fashionable, lace fingertipless gloves, I crimped my hair, I wore dayglow everything and in high school my jeans were so tight I had to lie down to put them on and when I took them off the imprint of the stitching stayed on my thighs for hours!

When yoga pants became all the rage and I ran down to Old Navy to grab a few pairs. Not only did they look really comfortable but I could wear them out of the house without embarrassment. (I have been known to pick up pizza in my flannel jammies)

I grabbed a mountain of them in different colors and sizes. For some reason everything in Old Navy is in mutant size. A 10 fits a 14, a 6 fits a 3....It's a nice challenge. I had sizes 4-12. I figured something would work.

I grabbed a pair of black ones, smoothed them up over my hips and checked out my ass in the mirror. I always trying things on with my back to the mirror. I figure if my ass looks big there's no reason to look any further. There wouldn't be a chance in hell that I'd be purchasing them.

My butt looked good; perky and round. I was pleased. I checked out the side view next. I was sucking in a bit, but whatever. I'm usually sucking in any way. Okay, it was good there, too. I turned to the front to check out the rest and the breath I was holding let out like a "Whoosh" when I saw what was going on south of my bellybutton.

Heeeeellooooo Camel Toe!

You could see the perfect outline of my goodie box (Ha! I said box!). Nice!

I tried on size after size of those things and even when the waist as falling off me and the ass was sagging, but the outline of my lady bits came right through.

I stormed out of the store, furious but I'm also starting to freak out. (Remember my self-esteem issues, now). Was there something wrong with me? Have I suddenly developed a case of elephantitis in my Hoo Ha and no one had enlightened me? I've always received positive feedback in the Cooter region. I think the terms "VERY nice" and "Mmmm" were uttered more than once. Big K hadn't remarked on any changes and he spends a fair amount of time in that area.

What the hell was going on? I can wear skin tight biking shorts without a shadow of my naughty box coming through. Why couldn't I wear a pair of yoga pants?

I figured the only way I could get over this trauma was to buy least 2 pairs of new shoes. I knew that toe cleavage was acceptable. I stomped in to DSW and wandered the aisles, still kvetching about my honey pot when there infront of me was the most amazing pair of the hands of this stick figure wearing yoga pants. (Told ya they were in fashion). She had her back to me and her perfect derriere was clad in chocolate brown silk. I already hated her. She turned around and Heeeeelllooo Kitty.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who has to worry about her punani being on display. How on earth can someone wear something that shows off that? I would be so embarassed.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

My Cage in Hell - A Office Slave Update

I haven't really complained about my coworkers lately, save for the extremely vocal Spanky who is now comfortably installed in an office just down the hall from mine and making more noises every day. His new phrase is, "You've gotta be kidding me" which is paired with an exasperated sigh, followed by some sort of grunt. This process is completed 6-7 times every 15 minutes. Fancy Pants and I have made a game of emailing pleas for help back and forth to each other. We're going insane.

Dusty McFly is on my shit list. Here is the reason why:

Sunday mornings are sacred. It is the day that Big K and I snuggle up and sleep in until whenever we want. Sometimes, I might bounce out of bed a bit early in the summer to bronze myself naked on the back porch with my book. Some days, I might put on Food Network and the dogs will jump on the bed to lay all over our feet. It's a day of rest and relaxation. So, imagine my surprise when my home phone rang at 10:30. I have a strict Do-no-call-me-before-noon-on-Sunday-or-I-will-hunt-you-down-and-kill-you policy that even my mother adheres to. Big K shot a hand out of the covers, grabbed the phone from his nightstand and tossed it towards me. With bleary eyes I read the number off the caller ID. It looked familiar, but in my sleepy haze, I couldn't place it. I answered with a grunt.

Person: "Hello? Can I speak to _______" Totally butchering my last name which is insanely long and impossible to pronounce.

Me: "Mmmmmmmhph. Speaking"

Person who turned out to be Dusty McFly: "Are you still in bed? It's 10:30"

Me: "MmHhh.....What do you want?"

Dusty McFly: "Partner 3 wants to know if you want anything from Starbucks? He told me to call you."

Me: "What?"

Dusty McFly: "I'm just kidding. I need you to tell me how to use the alarm code for the office building. I know you have already showed me, but I forget"

I rattled off the alarm procedure which is embedded in my mind and promptly hung up on him. I was pissed!!!

Big K was pissed too because his peaceful slumber had been disturbed. Now, I had to endure his long, drawn out speech on how I was so underpaid, I shouldn't deal with that shit, and there is no fucking reason that someone should be calling me on a weekend, especially a Sunday with mundane shit. That argument is all true, but I'm a big pussy.

I usually get calls on Saturdays from my guys. Partner 3 calls me every time he thinks of a new idea or if he breaks a nail. I'm use to it and I just deal. But, calling me on a home....this was a deal breaker.

After listening to Big K drone on and on about the lack of respect they have for me ...blah..blah..blah...I walked down to the kitchen to check my cell. I figured if Dusty had tried my cell first, that might redeem him a bit. Nope! No missed call. He had just gone for my home number. He was a dead man.

Monday morning I dragged him into my office, sat him down and told him that the only reason he was to call me at home....on any day....was if he had a valuable appendage ripped off his body, if he was on fire, someone else was on fire, or if the office was on fire. Anything else should be forwarded to my cell. If I don't answer, leave a message. If I declare the request worthy of a response on my Sacred Day of Doing Nothing, I will return the call. These terms were non-negotiable and if not followed I would chop off his balls and keep them in a jar on my desk.

My Monday also consisted of being pissed off at one of the P's (that's one of the partners, but I don't want to identify because they sometimes read my blog. I'll just let them guess which one of them is wrecking my life this week) I sat in my office in a rage, staring out the window making a visual voodoo doll in my head and poking at it with pins. Sometime the P's step over the line just a hair and make my life a living hell with a "grand" new idea. This one is starting on Friday, makes more than I do and will complicate my life enormously.

Another P annoyed me by cancelling a meeting for the third time at 6pm as I'm preparing to walk out the door. Seriously folks, I had my coat on, the lights were off in my office and I was three feet from the front door. I had to go back to my office, switch everything on and make phone call after phone call to everyone involved. This was the third time I had done this and everyone was pissed. They never seem to remember that I'm just the messenger and the rotten P is the guy who cancelled.

I drove home listening to angry rock music, cursing the two P's. The third P is being sympathetic, but I'm still enraged.

"Hello...Help Wanted Ads? Do you know anyone who needs a really intelligent, extremely computer literate, very overqualified employee who has a fun personality, can deal with immense pressure but only wants to work in an all male environment? Please help me!"

I'm just kidding...but I'm still mad. P' need to give me some love....NOW!!!

Monday, November 17, 2008

Inquiring Minds

My day of randomness spurred some questions from my faithful reader Morvy. Since she was one of my first readers, I will entertain her questions post haste.

1. So, how exactly did you cut your tongue? I have absolutely no idea. I had alot of work done on my mouth at an early age. I had a mouth widener (this always invokes laughter and blowjob jokes. I will try to sustain) It was one of those nasty plates that they install on the roof of your mouth. My mother would crank it open more and more every week, widening my teeth. I also had graphed gum surgery on my lower teeth. They took gum from the top of my mouth and affixed it to the bottom below my front teeth. So with all those hands in my mouth and all the work being done, I'm betting someone slipped and forked my tongue. I discovered it in fourth grade and had many years of disgusting and horrifying my classmates. It's especially effective when I flip up my eyelids too.

2. Who on earth served you bologna with cottage cheese rolled into it as a child? On the weekends, my mother was always looking for the easy lunch. She would give us a plate with some bologna rolled up, some slices of cheese, sliced fruit and a scoop of cottage cheese. For some reason, I thought that the cottage cheese would taste good spread out on a piece of bologna and then rolled up. I'm weird like that.

3. The ear thing is kinda freaking me out. Like what part - the lobe or what? It is weird, I know. You know how kids have a blanket with the silky stuff on the edges and they rub that? I think that is where it started. I tend to rub TH's ears when they're cold or lukewarm. I like the whole thing and I just kind a rub it with my finger. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it. I'll do it to my sister sometimes too. I guess when I was growing up I did it to my brother all the time.

4. What is with women wanting to get a concealed carry permit? Did Diana get you started on that? She's trying to convince me I need one but I don't think that will fit in the diaper bag! Growing up I was always interested in crime drama's, mysteries etc. I started out reading the Bobbsey Twins, moved over to Nancy Drew and the to RL Stine. I have always wanted to work in the field of law. I worked in the records department of a local police station when I was in high school. I got my degree in Criminal Justice and even tested in the top 5% to enter one of the local police departments before I graduated. Unfortunately, I never went anywhere with it. There's just not that many opportunities around here. I still would like to get my permit. The best and easiest permit is to get is to carry concealed. That way it's easier to transport and use. I don't have a gun and really don't plan to anytime soon. I would like to get my permit because it's a good thing to have.

6. And why aren't you speaking to your brother or sister? Well, this is quite a story.... The reason I'm not speaking to my brother is that he is an asshole. He is self-centered, immature prick and makes everything about him. He ruined last Easter and Christmas for me by being a big jerk; making snide comments and showing off in obnoxious ways. My mother made me include him in my wedding party and in every picture he's in, he's making faces or poising so it's all about him. He ruined the all portrait pictures by doing this. I've just washed my hands of him.

My sister is a different story. She is a senior in college and last spring she asked TH and I if she could come live with us for the summer. The summer job market on Cape Cod is booming and she wanted to try it out. After long and careful consideration, TH and I decided that having her live in the house wasn't a really good idea. Our house isn't big enough to have three people walking around and not constantly bumping into each other. We're really private people and we both work hard. We like to have quiet privacy when we're home. (Even though TH's idea of relaxing is to turn the radio up to top volume and sit in the bathroom) It's tough to relax when there is someone always in the house. She's my sister and I wouldn't be able to treat her like a roommate. I would feel bad if I wasn't including her in stuff, if she walked in and we had just finished dinner I would have to make her a plate because I felt rude, etc. I would have ended up resenting her and that would have led to a fight three weeks into her stay.

Well....that answer did not sit well with her and she got her snit up. But, gets worse.

She was turning 21 in May and for 6 months we had been planning her birthday. I had been saving up and promised that I would take her and all her friends club hopping in Boston with a limo. That is what she wanted. It was going to be an uber expensive night, but she is my baby sister and I really wanted to make it special. As we counted down towards the big day, she began to get nervous that some of her friends wouldn't be able to come. They hadn't turned 21 yet. So, I told her that they all could come down to my house on the Cape and we would have a huge weekend long party. Sort of like an old fashion sleepover, but with tons of booze. We could go to Ptown during the day, go to this seedy 18 or older club in Hyannis at night and just have a great time. I would host the whole thing. She seemed interested in the idea and said she would think about it.

A week before her birthday, I called and asked her what the verdict was. I needed to make arrangements for the limo if we were going to Boston. If they were coming to the house, I needed to find activities to keep TH upstairs the entire weekend. She said said she had decided that she was just going to hang out at school with her friends and make it a low key night. I understood and told her she and I could do something special ourselves.

I found out later that she had gone to Boston nightclubbing with her friends and totally blew me off. It was her way of getting back at me for not letting her stay at our house that summer. I was so hurt.

She and I are barely speaking now. I saw her this past weekend at my grandmothers house and we kinda grunted at each other. I'm hoping that she's coming for Thanksgiving, but that's a toss up. Who knows. I've always wanted to have that real intimate sister relationship with her but she only seems to call me now when she wants something. We have a ten year age gap, so I'm attributing it to that.

My beloved Heather wanted to know why I don't have any self esteem. Well my love, I don't have a clue why. If you meet me, you will find me outgoing, loud and very friendly. I will talk to anyone about anything. I am accepting of everyone and will go to the ends of the earth to help someone in need. I have a self deprecating nature that works well for comedy. But everything that I say in jest is usually exactly the way that I feel. I am unsure of everything I do and say. It's awful! My goal is to be self-actualized by my 40th birthday. 9 years and counting....

Oh well, everyone needs something to overcome. I will prevail!

Friday, November 14, 2008

Awarding Random Stuff

I'm starting to thinking that Heather over at Keltic Kaos might have a bit of a blog crush on me. This is the second time she has given me an award. I'm lovin' her as well!!!

Anywhoo....I have to write some random stuff about myself. Not an easy task considering that I practice full disclosure here.
  • I have a forked tongue. (Some how the tip of my tongue was cut and it has a tiny slice at the tip making a microscopic fork.)
  • I am totally obsessed with Jessica Simpson and Pamela Anderson. Not to the point of lesbianism, but very close.
  • I love cottage cheese rolled up in a slice of bologna. It's disgusting, I know. But, it reminds me of my childhood. I also put chips in my sandwiches, especially tuna fish.
  • I use to be on the same gymnastic team with the original Pink Power Ranger
  • I love watching NASCAR races and I'm a huge fan! Ask me about camber, wedge in/out or being loose is and I can give you full details.
  • Football mystifies me.
  • Growing up, I wanted to be a profiler in the FBI.
  • I love having fires in the fireplace.
  • I haven't shaved my legs in 4 days (Yeah winter!!!)
  • When I was younger, I use to suck my thumb and rub other peoples ears. I quit the thumb sucking when I was nine, but I still do the ear thing. It drives Big K nuts when I do it to him while he's driving. I also do it to our dogs.
  • I secretly watch Celebrity Rehab. It's like crack.
  • I really hate the fact that TH never wants to do anything that I want to do.
  • I am six shots away from getting my license to carry a gun concealed.
  • I knit baby clothes for fun.
  • I want to get a tiny tattoo of a sunflower on my back hip, but I'm a huge wimp.
  • I don't have one shred of self esteem.
  • I don't like peanut butter or chicken
  • While I'm eating lunch at my desk, I sneak to and check out the celebs.
  • I clench my fists when I'm mad
  • If I'm not eating or drinking, I have gum in my mouth. I'm totally orally fixated
  • I love quotes. I write them down everywhere, but can never remember them when I want to.
  • I will hold a grudge forever
  • I get incredibly, inhumanly annoyed if someone doesn't return my phone call.
  • I am dying to be one of those people who has a huge vegetable garden.
  • At this moment, I am not speaking to my brother nor my sister.
I am passing this on to:
Jen @ Steenky Bee - 'cause I know she hates shit like this and I want to torment her!
Casey@ Half As Good As You - 'cause she lets me verbally abuse her. It's a sign of love, girl!
Heinous @Irregualry Periodic Ruminations - He has a bazillion awards, but I figured what the hell. He's a regular commentator and funny as hell!
Brooke @ Martinis Aren't Just For Breakfast - I just discovered her through Lola and this girl is funny!
BadAss @ Badass Geek - 'cause he's my boy!
Aaron @ Daddyfiles - 'cause he never stalks me anymore and I'm trying to bribe him back.
I would give you all some linky love, but the blogger is not cooperating with me right now. I would also pass this on to Lola @Sassy Mama Says, but she's on vacation and I don't want to stress her out.
Have a great weekend, y'all

Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Gods Must Be Crazy - HASAY Update

I know, I KNOW....I'm late with my HASAY Update. Casey has already given me a big nudge with her gigantic broomstick....the witch!

I have been getting up at the ass crack of dawn to run every morning. We have been experiencing a beautiful Indian Summer here on the Cape that never begins until I have finished my morning run. It is frigid out there, ladies and gents. I always think that I'm totally covered until I walk out on the front porch and Jack Frost slips a cold finger into the waist band of my pants and somehow figures out a way to chill my butt. The pervert. I don't know what it is but only my ass gets cold. I will arrive home, sweat dripping from every surface of my body and my butt is a block of ice. I'm sure if I licked my hand and slapped it to my ass, it would stick.

My eating habits this weekend mirrored those of a starving football team. I ate pizza and Mexican take out. I fully blame this on Big K as he used his sexual prowess to sway me into eating takeout. All the man has to do is bat those hazel eyes at me, say "take out?" and I'm gone. If he's not around, I'm an angel.

On Monday AM I woke up bright and early, donned my snowsuit and trotted down the stairs for my sneakers. Usually, I wake up both dogs and they beat a path down the stairs and run for the back door to be let out to do their business. But on this particular morning, only one dog was excited to make the trip downstairs. The other was cowering in her bed, afraid to look at me. Usually this behavior is a result of a nightly "accident" that she knows about and that I will discover upon my trip downstairs. She's old so I try to forgive her. It's always near the back door so I know she trying.

I prepared myself for the nastiness, already cursing the clean up that will shave 10 minutes off my run time. I got to the kitchen and stood shocked at the disaster before me. It was as if the Exxon Valdez had unloaded it's tanks on my kitchen floor. It was on the walls, the radiators....everywhere. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen in my entire life and it took me an hour and 15 minutes to clean up. After I was done, I threw away everything that I had to use...brush, mop, bucket, gloves, towels etc.....removed my clothes in the laundry room and sat in the shower for 30 minutes under the hottest water I could stand.

That's all I will say about it because I am still scarred and I don't want my faithful readers to be so disgusted that they will never read here again.

I once read about a girl who had her own cleaning company that specialized in cleaning up the remains of murder scenes and those horrible events where someone dies and no one finds the body for weeks. After the body is removed, she comes in with industrial strength cleaners and tears the place apart. I'm pretty sure that I could work for her now after my Monday morning disaster.

I think someone is secretly plotting against me in this challenge and fed my dog some prunes or something. I also think that they have hypnotised TH into feeding me takeout.

I will prevail! They have just opened up the Cadillac of gyms down the street from my office and I'm joining today. I have quit the estrogen factory that I used to belong to and will now be able to work out with men too! Most of my guys are joining as well so I will get extra heat from them if I'm not seen there on a regular basis. TH is joining too and will accompany me on the weekends.

Here I come, baby! Ready or not!

Thursday, November 6, 2008

A Naughty Girl Night

I have been a bad, bad girl. TH's is at a conference tonight and I've been misbehaving.

I tried to take a picture of my crime, but I have a new laptop and cannot figure out where my picture software is hiding and the camera is currently holding the photos hostage.

I am so guilty. I just made out with an entire plate of sushi and pot stickers. It was soooooo good!

I'm sitting home alone while my husband is driving back from his conference in the rain. My boyfriend Tivo is quietly recording our shows and I'm hanging out in my home office.

I'm still hungry.

Ever since I started this fucking diet all I have blogged about is food. I called Josh to dish some more gossip and he chastised me on my blogging subjects. "Not to be mean or anything, but it's been kind of boring lately", he said after I told him some naughty secrets and devilish thoughts to stick up on the closet shelves.

He's right! I have lost my touch. I have been so wrapped up in food that I have neglected my foreswore duty to horrify the ever loving shit outta you guys. I haven't mentioned my new vibrator, discussed a sexual position or talked about an off color topic. I'm currently reading a book called "KINK- The Hidden Sex Lives of Amercians" and I haven't mentioned it once!

I've got 2 hours until Big K gets home. I'm going to go use my new vibrator....twice, read "KINK" and watch some porn. I need to bring some naughty back into my life!

Some of you left comments on my last post that were deleted when I stupidly pressed "reject" instead of "publish". I'm so sorry for that and you may give me a virtual beating if you'd like.

Friday, October 24, 2008

My junk, my lovely lady junk.

Seeing that I'm enormously grouchy today brought on by being blown off last night by my Brazilian Mistress of Pain and the impending arrival of Medusa, I have a short one for all of you today. This is better than me ranting about something insignificant just to vent my rage.

I stole this idea from Rachel over at Party of One.

Ladies, empty your purses.....Gentlemen, your pockets. Show me what ya got!

I ran downstairs to an unused office and took this picture. This is a catalog of all my shit:
Prada Bag - gift from Mom
Wallet - I've had it forever and there is at least $50 of change in the pocket part. It weighs a ton!
iPod - Constant companion.
Wetnaps - I have no idea why they're in there
Gum: Usually there is more than one pack. I'm low.
Tube of lip plumper: Makes me look like I got my lips stuck in a vacuum and tastes terrible. It's also super sticky and I always get my hair caught in it.
Burts Bee's chap stick: I live in New England. Chapped lips are a year round problem.
Matchbook: From a wedding 2 years ago. The matches barely work.
Keys: DUH
Pens: Currently, I only have 3. I can promise you that by the end of the day I'll have at least 4 more. I tend to "steal" pens from places I go.
Hairbrush: For emergency "do" repair.
Business Card Holder
Checkbook: Why I have this, I have no idea. I use my credit/debit card for everything and I can't remember the last time I wrote a check
Address Book: I've had 4 Palm Pilots and they all crapped out on me. I write it all on paper now.
Sunglasses: Stole these sweet Oakleys from Big K. I broke mine.
Broken Eyeliner pencil
Kiwi Lip Gloss: So yummy
Rock that says "Thank you": A woman I worked with gave it to me. I have no idea why I still have it.
Big Round Rock: I got this at a seminar on Child Abuse when I was still in college. The rocks are gathered on the beaches of the Cape and given to child abuse victims to give them power. I love it because it fits in my hand perfectly and makes me feel calm. Also, when someone asks me "Why the fuck is your purse so heavy. Do you have rocks in it" I can answer, "Why yes, I do!"
Cap from a Bud Light bottle: Left over from tailgating at the Pats game on Monday. (Don't clean out my purse that much)
Listerine Strips: I drink lots of coffee and quite often catch a case of dragon breath. These work in a pinch.
Pocket Micro Cruizer Scan Disk Storage Device: You never know when you're gonna have to upload a file (I'm such a geek)
Dirty Chocolate Lollipop: Yes, I am currently schlepping around a chocolate lollipop in the shape of a vagina. Surfer Dude gave it to me as a joke and I haven't done anything with it yet. I'm having dinner with friends on Saturday so it will be a fun conversation piece. I can't bring myself to eat it.
I also have a few fem. products, but I thought those would be in bad taste to photograph. I did have a remote control egg vibrator, but the batteries died. I am currently "without sex toy".
Alright, I've showed you mine, you show me yours. You've all been mime. Get on it!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

A Fattie Update & A Duel

I should probably give you an update on my attempt to whittle my waistline. My diet dominatrix, Casey expects updates

Update: It's not going well.

I was fully prepared to run yesterday morning. I laid out my clothes, set my alarm and went to bed a bit earlier than usual.

I woke up to a monsoon. Gail force winds, rainy, raw and nasty. There was no way in hell I was running in that shit. So, I canned the run and snuggled up to Big K for an extra hour.

I brought a healthy, boring lunch and was fully prepared on eating it until Fancy Pants decided to hit Box Lunch...the most awesome sandwich shop EVA! I got a pretty healthy roll up with turkey, sprouts, hots and avocado (omega-3's baby!) and scarfed it down in seconds flat. Of course, I was hungry again an hour later. Usually, I bring a few small things to eat...half a sandwich, a yogurt and fruit. I eat them over a span of a few hours. That is the best way to eat. Keeps your blood sugar from dropping.

Because the weather sucked big, hairy goat teats, I felt that it was a perfect night for spaghetti and meatballs....homemade of course. Garlic bread was the icing on the cake.

Today, I'm doing better. Healthy breakfast, lunch....until Fancy Pants showed up with 2 homemade cranberry, white chocolate chip cookies. They were the product of bet he lost to me and the cookies were my reward. I HAD to eat them. They are my FAV!

Tonight, TH and I are getting pizza. My waxer, the Brazilian Mistress of Pain, is making a private house call tonight and will be preforming her magic with me laying on the kitchen island. (it's the only surface that's easy for her to work on). If any of you have my home phone and would like to hear me scream bloody murder whilst having my lady parts tidied, please feel free to give me a ring. I need the distraction. Pizza is my reward for enduring the torture.

Daddyfiles and I have added a new level of pain to this weigh loss mania. We have a lovely bet going and you guys will benefit from the our humiliation. Here are the terms:

1. Start date: November 1, 2008

2. End Date: December 29, 2008

3. We each get our body fat percentage measured and post it. (oh the humiliation)

4. We diet

5. Whoever loses the most body fat percentage wins!

6. The loser has to jump in the water with the Cape Cod Polar Bear Club on January 1, dressed in floaties and an inner tube. Pictures of the loser freezing their ass off will be posted on each others blogs

If you don't know who the Polar Bear club is, they are a bunch of manics that jump in the ocean every January 1. They're a nice bunch of folks, they raise money for charity doing it, but I think they're completely insane.

Let the games begin!!!

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Poking in the Soak

I have received some extra shit lately from my closet keeper Josh. The boy is still hanging with my skeletons but is unhappy with content of my blog - claims I have lost my raunchy touch. Au contraire, mon ami! I am still my little pervy self - Still on fire, still out of control.

So Josh my love, this one is for you.

This is my experience working in a sex hotel.

There are alot of these hotels all over the place. The Poconos has oodles of them up in those mountains. Romantic, classy getaways that couples flock to and recreate their honeymoon.

The Cape has The International Inn....or as we locals call it "The Soak n'Poke"

The SnP is the original "Cuddle and Bubble". The owner started the phase and it has spread like wildfire. A couple rents a room with a huge bed and a jacuzzi. They are there for one purpose and one purpose boink like crazed monkeys all night long.

I worked at the SnP just after high school and was starting college. They needed a morning buffet waitresses and I needed a job that was flexible. All I had to do was pour coffee, juice and keep the tables clean. The money was awesome. I could make $250 on a weekend morning. Even though the money was fab, the people watching was one for the books. Everyone morning couples would stumble down from their rooms, bleary eyed from sleep deprivation, still panting after each other like love sick dogs. They would ravenously shovel down mountains of food (having worked up an appetite the from previous night) and run back up to their rooms for a quickie before check out time. The couples were always interestingly mixed. Old men - young women, Old women - younger guy, really ugly guy - uglier chick. It was the same thing, day in day out. In it's hay day, the SnP was an upscale place, but when I worked there, the clientele had slide down to the bottom rungs of society. After all, what kinda guy takes his women to a place called "Cuddle & Bubble".

The rooms are kind seedy looking. If you watch the marketing video from the website, it plays like really bad soft core porn. Young couple enters the room. They hang in the tub for awhile and the tub has bubbles in it. Every person knows that if you put lots of bubbles in the jacuzzi, you're gonna get a huge mess. And what's with the rose petals being thrown on them? She actually looks disturbed when one lands on her boob.

Not only did I work breakfast, I also made a few guest appearances for the dinner shift. The couples were insanely horny and gobbling down their surf n' turf in an effort to get back to their orgasmic frenzy.

The hotel was an equal opportunity employer. The staff was in such shambles that they were always reaching out to the different departments to cover shifts. I spent 4 terrifying shifts as the pool lifeguard. I had no life guard training and apparently my lapsed CPR certification was good enough. The pool was located in this dingy area of the hotel and was basically a hole filled with bleached water. I only lasted 4 shifts because I couldn't stand watch people play hide the salami just mere yards away from me. I'm sure it was one of those "sex in public" fantasies. But, even with my open mind, I couldn't take it. These people were disgusting.

The best and more horrifying position I held there was as a room service attendant.

I'm not sure what cranium blip had me excepting that disgusting job. I figured lugging a "Movie Night" popcorn package was better than schlepping huge trays of prime rib and watching two horny 60 year old toothless, wrinkled couples dry humping each other in the dining room. Little did I know that it was better to be treated to a public lap dance than a private showing in the doorway of their room. People had no shame. They would open the door in the nude, in lingerie that probably wouldn't have looked good on them 20 years before and in bizarre stages of undress. Nothing scars the corneas like having a guy dressed in a wife beater tank top and nothing else; his obviously worn out doodle hanging in the breeze for the world to see. Here I am trying to act all professional, while the wife is streaking around the room dressed in a feather boa and sequin thong. (true story, folks!).

The staff was almost as colorful. I was dating my high school boyfriend at the time, so I don't have any personal experiences to share. But, I can safely say that the vibe of the place rubbed off on the staff. Everyone was sleeping with everyone....and they were all hooking up in the rooms. The place was an orgy on steroids. The gift shop that they installed 2 months into my tenure didn't help. We would try on the outfits, play with the "dirty playing cards", and have scavenger hunts with the toys.

I did have a chance to stay in one of the rooms. The Cape was expecting a monster snow storm and the management offered to put up all the morning waitress in rooms to ensure their attendance the next morning at breakfast. I was psyched! (I was 19, people. Anything free was exciting back then.) One of the guys at the front desk gave me the second to the best room. I grabbed a mountain of snacks and settled in for the night. Then I thought "I have a huge jacuzzi all to myself, why the hell don't I use it". The tub took forever to fill up and I waited impatiently in my terry cloth robe, eager to jump in to soak and drink the complimentary bottle of champagne. The thing finally filled, I tossed off my robe, reached over to turn on the button for the jets when something in the water caught my eye. There floating on the smooth water of my heart shaped jacuzzi, was a bunch of tiny, curling black hairs.

I quit 5 months later.