A moment of entertainment

I work with this guy, Jerry. He's about 60 ish and grew up in Ireland. He is the coolest person who is often up here near my office so he tends to be my comic relief during the day. He's also moderately perverted and often talks about being horny so we get along.

He just told this story about his days of drinking in the projects. (I didn't know they had projects back in Ireland.) They used to make this stuff called Root-n-Toot which was Gypsy Rose wine, Strawberry KoolAid and AquaVelva aftershave strained through a piece of bread. Apparently the person who made this concoction up now has gone a tad loopy and walks around town with a bible and a fishing pole, perhaps hoping to hook God.

Jerry's the coolest!

Nothing exciting

Look... it's possible to touch a belt without cutting yourself. I swear, she did this all by herself, and then sat there like that for a good five minutes. It was a Kodak moment.

Onto real topics, as if anything I talk about is real. There has been a whole lot of nothing exciting going on lately. But it does look like I am getting a great freelance deal. Of course there is a bit of nepotism involved, but at this financial juncture in life I'll take it.


The king of kickball has started a new company and they are going to be doing building websites and doing marketing. Well really they'll be farming it out to me to do, either way I'm going to get paid. It's really a great deal. They do all the boring ass administrative and sales work, I just do the fun, creative work. I love it. And seriously, if it brings in some extra cash, that would be totally sweet! I'll keep you updated.

Hurry, it's approaching.

Get your own countdown at BlingyBlob.com

Yes, this very important day is quickly approaching. Just a few more shopping months left so you can adequately describe your love for me through material gifts.

If you are stuck I will suggest a few items that I would greatly appreciate at this time in my life:
Gilchrist and Soames Shampoo
Rosie the Riveter Doll
Better than Ezra CD
any Full size sheets because when you sleep with a dog (and I mean that literally, not having sex with a scummy guy) your sheets wear out fast.

Toto, we're not in college anymore

"I'm 27 years old, I will not blow you on a bean bag chair."

Amendment to: I consider myself a feminist

There might be crazy ladies out there who need to organize a gathering of hairy lesbians to celebrate their moon menses but at least the government has finally granted approval of Plan B to be sold over the counter.

That's one point for insane feminism and one for rational feminism!

I consider myself a feminst

I consider myself a feminst. I attended the March for Women's Lives on Washington DC and screamed until I was hoarse at the crazy mulleted right-wing Christians who lined the route, forcing their children to hold up signs with pictures of mutilated fetuses. These children being to young to know what abortion is and too young to see images like that if they wanted to avoid a scarred adulthood.

I have been held down by the glass ceiling at more then one job. I have been given raises for flirting (I don't call that going against the feminist, I call that understanding and using the freedom of being a woman to it's utmost potential.) I have been sexually harassed and pissed off to the most possible pissed offness because all the offender got was a slap on the wrist.

I am a member of the National Organization for Women. I refuse to allow a middle age man tell me what I can and can not do with my own body. I masturbate. I speak my mind. I really dig Rosy the Riveter.

BUT...

I think that this has taken the concept of feminism a tab bit too far.

I am not a racist, I hate everyone equally

I recently had an experience which half opened my eyes to the fact that my small corner of the world is actually really close to the ghetto, and half disgusted me because people who live that close to me should not be living in such a completely different world then I do.

Let me give you a little back story. As the vice president of the NY New Deal division of WAKA Kickball it is partly up to me to bring in new kickballers and spread the word about the division. I decided to do so via Myspace.com. I found this great/ cheap program that will automate the friend adding process. So I told said program that I wanted to add people who are above the age of 21 and live within a 20 mile radius of a particular zip code.

In this process I've gotten a lot of people responding back wanting to know who we are and how we got their info. Most people have been moderately to above average intelligent based on their sentence construction and English skills. And then I got a message which reads, and I don't exaggerate "nah nah nigga".

First of all, I've never had anyone call me a nigga before, and I'm not sure how to take it. Secondly, what on earth does nah nah mean? Is that no no? I don't even know. That is why languages have a set standard of rules and regulations which dictate spelling and the like so that a mass group of people can communicate together.

Further research into the person who wrote said email states that she lives in Poughkeepie (I would give you a link but there are no websites that show the trashy side of downtown Poughkeepsie) Now Poughkeepsie is probably a mere five miles or so from my house. How on earth is there such a distinct rift in the socio/ economic lifestyles of the world I live in and the ignorant, uneducated, ghetto life that this person lives in? How am I writing a blog in full sentences and common English terms and she writes an email that just says "nah nah nigga"?

I don't get it, and I don't like it. I don't mean to come off as an elitist or a racist in any way. I just don't understand. I am by no means smart. I know that straight out. I barely graduated college by the skin of my teeth and pulled in solid c's all through high school. I know a ton of people who are so much smarter then I am. But at least i can form a sentence. And I'm not saying that this person isn't smart either. I'm sure she has the ability to learn, but may have not really had the opportunity. I don't know. I'm probably digging a bigger hole for myself, but come on...nah nah?

Reason # 11,236,548,847 why I hate people

I just took Olivia to PetCo (because that's where the pets go, remember that for later) to get her nails clipped because she acts like the wild beast of Borneo when ever you touch her feet. She was getting a bit obnoxious in there, I'll admit it, but it did not require this stupid cunt beeyatch to get this insane.

Olivia decided she needed to start barking at everything and when I say barking I mean yipping in this high pitch noise that is borderline being heard only by bats. We are waiting in line which was probably taking an average length of time but because she is embarrassing loud at this point it feels like forever. We are so close to being out the door and done with PetCo for the day (as other embarrassing things had happened while we were there ie. peeing, treat stealing.) Then this woman at the front of the line with two tiny puntable dogs starts making a bit of a fuss. It was a quiet fuss at first, but because I'm in tune to people getting all howty towty I knew it was going on. She pulled her little dogs around to the other side of the counter and finished her transaction there. Then because Olivia stopped barking because there were no more dogs to be annoying to I thought they had left.

Another cashier called me down to another checkout line, where lo and behold the cat-like dogs were with their "master" at the dog tag making machine. Things are going fine until Olivia sees them and starts up with the cacophony again. The woman's daughter says something about screwing up the tag she was making and the vagina says "Well I'm not surprised with that dog being so annoying"

And then I freaked out!

"I'm so sorry that this is the only place I can bring my dog to get her nails clipped"

"Well I doubt that highly" followed closely by her daughter sshing her and telling her to ignore it.

But I was so pissed off by this stupid wench woman at this point. Ok, if my dog were being obnoxious in any other situation, I would have given her total 100% credit for being annoyed. I would be in her situation. But come on, this is a fucking pet store. The birds alone in the store were making more noise then my dog. Ok, not really, but close enough. And not only is it a pet store but they have a groom salon, so of course there are going to be dogs in there. What do they want me to do, beam Olivia into the salon and then beam her back out?

"ma'am, this is a pet store, dogs come here, get over it"

"Well my dogs are scared of your dog"

"That's because your dogs are practically rats" Ok, didn't really say that, but damn I was close. But I did say..."Sorry, my dog only barks at other dogs she doesn't like"

On my way out I told her my obnoxious dog was leaving now and I felt so good about the situation because I got the last word, and because I'm smarter then her. It's my ability to rationalize things like pet store = dogs = potential noise that makes me feel superior to those who can not come to these conclusions on their own.

Whad chu say sohnny?

I have realized that I'm getting old. Not like old maturity wise, or old fashion wise. But I think my body is getting old. I haven't checked for gray hairs or crows feet yet, but I can definetly feel that my body is starting to break down a little. True, I'm only 27 so I'm not talking about arthritis and coronaries or anything, but I've noticed I don't quite bounce back like I used to. I'm getting old like a car that just reached 100,000 miles and is starting to show it's age.

During last weekend's adventure to Front Street (which I didn't blog about because most of the details are still way to hazy for me to retell) I jammed my toe. I do believe I thought I could fly up that curb, needless to say, I am a mere mortal without angle wings to carry me gracefully up over the curb to safety. Almost a week later and I'm still a tad uncomfortable even though I've been taping every day. I'm becoming more more adept at healing my injuries as I get more and more.

Then this morning I'm walking along wishing Olivia would just poop already so I don't have to walk all the way down, then back up the hill again. All of a sudden I feel myself plummeting to the earth like a sack of potatoes. I stepped a little wrong and boom, down I go. Now ok, these things happen some times right? Well this is like the sixth time this has happened in the past two years. No exaggeration. When I was little I could just bend my ankles to save me from a fall like that and continue walking like nothing ever happened. It's not like I've become more clumsy, just less flexible I guess. Today if my ankles even considered doing some kind of a move like that I'm sure I'd snap them in two like little twigs.

Don't worry, I'll update you as I continue to grow old and feeble and am no longer able to control my own blatter. Growing old is going to be fun!

I like to be kept on my toes as much as the next person but...

I hate my boss today. Well, not much more then normal, but this has been a supremely awful week at work and today I must relish in my hatred for him.

This week was supposed to be our sale of the century, the most insanely horrific event we do all year, primarily because I'm claustrophobic and end up damn near the precipice of panic attack in crowds of this size, magnitude and energy. Just the sheer volume in the store makes me want to freak out, so thinking about these upcoming days put me in a bad mood to start.

Then, the day before the sale is scheduled to start we realized that I (yes I, 100% my fault) screwed up and at least half of our mailing list didn't get the postcards notifying them of the sale. This had potential of being ok, or really superbly terrible. As my boss was flipping out I had two choices, one, blame the mail house and make out by the skin of my teeth, or take the fall and potentially be fired. I decided to go with the "bigger person" route and take the blame. They would find out eventually when they realized we still had to pay the mail house and it would be better to deal with it now.

It turned out that the sale had no response, and my bosses were ok with the issue, actually appreciated that I admitted the mistake and apologized for it. So that was good... until just now and my boss freaked out again about something I had had designed for us and threw the paper at me. Um hello. OK, let's think logically for a moment shall we? Why freak out about something that is just a draft, and I had written the copy for but gave to the designer to mock up, but don't freak out when I just cost the company $20k? Not that I don't appreciate the nonfreak out, but consistency would be nice.

I'm having my ass handed to me on a silver plater today. I'll explain more later.

It is a worldwide epidemic

My best friend in the whole world, Trigg, lives basically the same exact dating life I do. We've both had serious boyfriends, not-so-serious boyfriends, short lived relationships, longterm relationships, fwbs, crushes, boys we like and should date but don't, boys we don't like and shouldn't date but do, and so many more. She's been engaged once though, that's something I have yet to experience. We've even both met men online with little success.

Trigg recently started seeing this guy she met on match.com. He was Croatian, hence we shall call him The Croatian. They had been out a few times and she was excited because she actually really liked him, which at this juncture in Trigg's life was a big step. You become 28 and single and get a bit jaded I guess. So anyway, things were going well and they slept together. No big deal right? Normally I would agree, but when you actually like someone and you put emotion behind the screwing it becomes a different story.

So The Croatian cancelled a date with her over text message. She was a bit freaked but I told her not to worry about it, it was the first time he cancelled maybe something really did come up. But I guess that's because I'm still a tad naive and like to think (or pretend) they really aren't all the same. Lo and behold I was totally wrong. He then texts her the next day and tells her that he's married. MARRIED. Yes, you read that correctly. MARRIED. But wait, there's more. The following texts told the story of a separated husband and wife that are now expecting a child! Um hello, does anyone else see the issue with this.

But wait, there's more. (ps that's a really good book, I own it) His final text which was then promptly followed by FUCK YOU reads "I didn't mean for you to find out this way." Um hello? If you didn't mean for her to find out that way then why did he do it that way? Am I the only one who has a problem with this? Is this acceptable behavior in Croatia? If so then I think we next need to go in there with our drafted troops to liberate the women from the brutality of men.

The next time some guy tries to make you believe that he's different from all the rest just retell him this story. That shit like this really does happen to honestly good people. All I have to say is that Trigg is in a karma deficit and some really good things are certain to come her way. I'm sure that is what her next fortune cookie will say. Does that make me a fortune fortune teller?

DO NOT LIVE VICARIOUSLY THROUGH ME

Have you ever caused someone's penis to bleed? Have you ever been sitting there, doing your thang, and all of a sudden he is dropping onto the couch like a sack of potatoes, doubled over in agony, holding himself while he repeats "I'm ok, hold on, just give me a minute." No? Didn't think so. Well I have and let me tell you, I had no idea how to react.

I made a booty call after kickball yesterday and stopped by Boy #7's place on the way home. Things were a little low key and he decided we should watch some pirate porn. Things were progressing nicely. I was a good level of buzzed, he seemed to be enjoying himself...until. He was standing, I was sitting and he pulled me up to him. Apparently that was a bad idea because belt buckle plus penis equals intense, excrutiating hell.

Once the instant pain subsided he ran off to the bathroom to check for blood, which of course there was some. I just stood completely still, afraid to move, in partial shock/ horror as to the massacre I had just inflicted. He kept going back and forth from me to the bathroom. Each time announcing that it was still bleeding as I stood completely still, afraid to move or to touch him in any way, shape or form. After his third trip back to the bathroom to check for clotting I announced I should just go home. What else do you do in that situation? As I continued to proclaim my exit strategy I unlocked myself from the position I held at the scene of the crime and began looking for the rest of my stuff.

I think it was at this point when he stopped focusing on this wiener and came back to me. I guess it wasn't really that injured because he didn't let me leave. It was a bit of buzzkill so it wasn't the best we've had, but you know, even when it's bad, it's still good.

Now that we know it still works we just need to pray that the wound doesn't become gangrenous and fall off. How do you go on with life knowing that something you did made someone else go the rest of their life without their sex organs? Just something to ponder.

So the lesson of this story? Don't live vicariously through me, it's a dangerous world I live in.

Plot may have been 'the Big One'

Plot may have been 'the Big One' - International Terrorism - MSNBC.com

I've been avoiding it for a while, but it's time for me to discuss politics. Because in every liberal, opinionated, semi-world conscious woman's life the time comes to honestly discuss the important events that go on around us, not just simulate a life of importance by discussing what people are wearing and why they piss me off all the time. Being pissed off at the world is trivial, being angry about the world is big!

I hate Bush. Ok, I said it, I put it out there. I think he is a god-awful president who should not be trusted to run the free world. He either knows something REALLY HUGE that he just isn't telling us, or was just sticking up for his daddy when he went in to Iraq, and now look where we are. Gas prices are completely out of control to the point where more and more American families aren't going to be able to heat their homes this winter, we have pushed Iraq into a civil war, which was not a prospect before we arrived, and yet, Bin Laden who started the whole damn thing is still out there, laughing at us.

Can someone, anyone, explain to me why Bush decided to go into Iraq and not focus on the one person we knew was responsible for killing thousands of innocent Americans and other world citizens? Where as Hussein killed his own people? Which technically isn't our problem? We have enough of our own problems, why must we create more?

Those are my main viewpoints, but I could sincerely go on for hours about this but as I'm writing this from work and do need to pretend to do something for my paycheck I'll stop. If you could help me understand with actual facts and not "because he said so" I'd love to hear it. It seems that real Bush supporters are veterans (whom of course I support and thank for all they have done for us) who had no choice to go to war because they were drafted (um, hello, don't you remember how you didn't want to go?) or sheep, following the rest of the herd, or ostriches (ostrichi?) with their head in the sand (really, I didn't mean that as a pun) who just refuse to see the horrible, near catastrophic situation we are in.

Why must everyone be dumb?

I hate everybody today. The entire world can go fuck themselves for all I care. I hate days like this. I'd rather go live in a cave and be a subsistence farmer so I never need to see another person for the rest of my life. This is how sasquatch must feel. Every single person calling or emailing me has a ridiculous request. I don't give a shit that the bottom of your trunk is scratched, no one is ever going to see it ever again. And no, I can't call the factory and find out what happened to it. What am I going to say? "Hi, I have a green trunk just like the other 10,000 green trunks you make on a daily basis, do you know exactly what happened to this individual trunk that made it all scratched up?" Helloo? Get a fucking grip on reality sir.

And no, if you are trying to scam me in some way, shape or form on eBay, I can not allow your company to come in and pick up an item and then I'll reimburse you for the amount you paid. FUCK YOURSELF.

And no, if you screwed up and gave us the wrong shipping address we can not reship free of charge for you.

OK, I think I feel a little better after that rant.

So the new phone disaster turned out to be pretty beneficial. Look, it takes cool pictures...


This is about a third of Olivia's head, sideways from my bed, because she likes to jump on me when I refuse to get up in the morning. She is all sweet when we are sleeping and she curls up in the crook of my fetal position, but it's a whole different ball game when she is awake and wants to play.





This is Noelle showing off her stylish hand-made, one of a kind kickball t-shirt.















And then we have Jeannine drinking stawberry dacquiries like the pro she is.



And thus concludes my blog for the day...until someone else calls with a catastrophe and needs some valium.

An open letter to all my friends...

We have all known that I’ve had a problem for a while now, but my addiction to coke (a-cola) has finally hit rock bottom. Yesterday there was an unfortunate accident involving the coke and my cell phone, may it rest in peace. I have started a new life with a whole new phone and look forward to my recovery. But in order to do that I might need your support and to get it I’ll need to call you. Which is currently hard to do as your number is lost in the old phone.

Ok, enough with the melodrama…please send me your contact info so that I may once again call you someday. Thanks.

Just another weekend of 27 year old antics

I've gotten a little feedback about my blog. Apparently I write too much in code and my font is too small. So I'm going against all of my design theory and style and will be moving forward in big font. It might make me nauseas, but in an effort to not drive away those with poor eyesight, I'll attempt to get over it. I'm also going to attempt to explain more then I used to even though I sort of liked the cryptic way I wrote. This too I shall get over.

This weekend was pretty crazy. Spent Saturday with the Queen of Kickball (my sister), Bug (my eldest niece) and Bee (my currently youngest niece, soon to be the middle child.) We went to the worlds most ghetto fabulous carnival. I was pretty much convinced that this tiny little carousel was going to fall apart in a flaming ball of hellfire, burying Bug and I under the new Ground Zero. Alas we all survived even though my weight on the space shuttle ride made the hydraulics too weak to lift our jet into the air. Not only was this a frightening thought that the carnie admitted to us that his dismantled ride which travels around the country by being pulled by an rv was broken, but also not a great ego booster. I think I have a carnie-phobia. Or maybe it's just a carnie-hatred.

Saturday night was the End of Season Kickball Party. It was a pretty lamo turnout but the Lucky Stars (my team) were out in full force yet again. Murt and I smoked a tad behind a car in downtown Poughkeepsie. I was certainly convinced that all terrible things that can happen to two women alone in the ghetto were going to happen. I was actually more worried about being raped, killed, robbed and stabbed (yes, in that order) then being caught with a joint.

Flick and The Playa ended up hooking up a little but we won't go into detail there as this isn't her Blog. I, on the other hand, have procured myself a FWB. Potential Boy #7 came back into town just in time for the party and allowed me to hem and haw for literally like 3 hours. Apparently drunk/ stoned Dutchess Of Kickball can't make decisions. I ended up making it home around 4 am, exhausted, sober and recently laid. Good times! oh ps, Potential Boy #7 will now be going by Boy #7