Blogger, it's been almost a year and I feel the need to re-evaluate our relationship. When we first met I was a naive young thing, fresh to the wilds of the Interwebs. I've grown and changed. My needs are different now. And I feel that we've moved apart. So I'm moving on.
Please find my blog at http://allthingsjuice.wordpress.com/
I promise this will be the last change for a while.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Bye Bye Fly
Sometimes I regret this being a semi-public blog, because I would dearly love to blog about my recent dating life. But I shall not. I will simply say that my schedule has become more open.
Anyway, on to other subjects. Oh my goodness how happy am I? I made Comment of the Week on Bye Bye Pie! June is the funniest blogger I know. Funnier than I Can Has Cheezburger, and that's pretty funny. And she is incredibly prolific. I think she posts every day! How can one person have that much funny? Anyway, if you don't read her you should. Just know that you're going to start incorporating phrases such as ding dang and bringing milkshakes to people's yards.
June has bajillions of readers and they all leave funny comments, so she selects one each week as best. I would totally love to steal that idea but a) that would be totally cheesy and b) I have like 5 readers and I think the charm would wear off after about 5 weeks. So I'll just stick to stealing her phrases and stories to make me seem wittier than I truly am. Thanks June!
Here is a fantastically crappy picture for you. Goes to show you should not try to take pictures at dusk. This picture was completely black with a flash of white for the street sign, but thanks to the magic of my computer, I have summoned up a photo for you. Kind of like serving you a burned casserole with the top scraped off. But we're friends, right?
Anyway, on to other subjects. Oh my goodness how happy am I? I made Comment of the Week on Bye Bye Pie! June is the funniest blogger I know. Funnier than I Can Has Cheezburger, and that's pretty funny. And she is incredibly prolific. I think she posts every day! How can one person have that much funny? Anyway, if you don't read her you should. Just know that you're going to start incorporating phrases such as ding dang and bringing milkshakes to people's yards.
June has bajillions of readers and they all leave funny comments, so she selects one each week as best. I would totally love to steal that idea but a) that would be totally cheesy and b) I have like 5 readers and I think the charm would wear off after about 5 weeks. So I'll just stick to stealing her phrases and stories to make me seem wittier than I truly am. Thanks June!
Here is a fantastically crappy picture for you. Goes to show you should not try to take pictures at dusk. This picture was completely black with a flash of white for the street sign, but thanks to the magic of my computer, I have summoned up a photo for you. Kind of like serving you a burned casserole with the top scraped off. But we're friends, right?
Anyway, the point of this picture is to show off my new storm door. I just got it put in this summer and it sure is handy. Not only does it let my neighbors know I'm open to receiving callers, it is the best fly-letter-outer ever! I am not a fan of flies. In fact one of the most memorable experiences I have is being at a wedding in Mexico where the family served a buffet outdoors. It was COVERED in flies. I was hungry, but I barely ate anything. And the grosser thing was that no one else seemed all that put out by it! They were all eating!!!!!!
Back to Baltimore and my fly problem. As Cecilia gets older she is moving more and more slowly. Which means the door is open longer when we come in from our walks. I think flies in Baltimore must have some sophisticated communication device of which we are completely unaware. Because approximately 8.4 flies come in each time I open the door. And then they're buzzing around, dive bombing my food, playing chicken with the light bulbs, you know the drill. So very very annoying. But if I discover them during the day, I can simply open my front door and let the magic window that is my storm door sing her sweet siren song. Bye bye fly!
Not to be confused with Bye Bye Pie. Seriously, go read it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Grape Gripes
I brought grapes into work this week. They were delicious! Crisp, juicy, sweet. My coworkers thought they were yummy too. Except that Shabaz Muffalet choked a little when he heard they were from the Walmart*. After all, this is Maryland. And Shabaz Muffalet is a blue blue Democrat. Which I think means he hates Walmart. I'd say he's a navy blue Democrat, but that sounds a little too close to Navy, which is part of the military, which I don't think is much of a concern for blue Democrats at all. But what do I know? I'm just a purple girl here in a blue state. Shabaz Muffalet told me once that I'm the most democratic Repulican he knows, on account of me voting to pay for libraries and schools. What can I say? I prefer when my checker-outer at the Walmart can read.
So I guess I'd say Shabaz Muffalet is a royal blue Democrat. But maybe "royal" connotes monarchies or dictatorships. Hmm. Let's call him an azure blue Democrat. Azure blue is a nice color. And besides, it's one of the official colors of my sorority in college. But I'm guessing that not everyone in my sorority was a Democrat.
Anyway, back to the Walmart. The super Walmart has the best and cheapest produce I have found. Sounds weird, but it's true. My other options are the Shoppers (which regularly has wilted produce) or Whole Paycheck (need I say more?). Oh, and there is a gucci Safeway kind of close, but their prices are almost up there with WP. And the produce at the Walmart is usually really good. I've had delicious Anjou pears, asparagus, leeks, etc. So I feel a little bad for ruining the environment by eating California grapes bought from the Walmart (two strikes!), but man, it's the only game in town.**
I wish I could quit you, Walmart.
*Have you ever noticed that things are funnier when you put a "the" in front of them. For example, "he has shingles" just sounds sad. But "he got the shingles" sounds kind of funny. Unless it's something that normally starts with "the." Like "I have the measles." Not funny at all.
**OK, not quite the only game in town. I belong to a CSA and I also frequent our local farmers markets, but none of them are selling grapes or bananas. Does the CSA help to cancel out my Walmart debt?
So I guess I'd say Shabaz Muffalet is a royal blue Democrat. But maybe "royal" connotes monarchies or dictatorships. Hmm. Let's call him an azure blue Democrat. Azure blue is a nice color. And besides, it's one of the official colors of my sorority in college. But I'm guessing that not everyone in my sorority was a Democrat.
Anyway, back to the Walmart. The super Walmart has the best and cheapest produce I have found. Sounds weird, but it's true. My other options are the Shoppers (which regularly has wilted produce) or Whole Paycheck (need I say more?). Oh, and there is a gucci Safeway kind of close, but their prices are almost up there with WP. And the produce at the Walmart is usually really good. I've had delicious Anjou pears, asparagus, leeks, etc. So I feel a little bad for ruining the environment by eating California grapes bought from the Walmart (two strikes!), but man, it's the only game in town.**
I wish I could quit you, Walmart.
*Have you ever noticed that things are funnier when you put a "the" in front of them. For example, "he has shingles" just sounds sad. But "he got the shingles" sounds kind of funny. Unless it's something that normally starts with "the." Like "I have the measles." Not funny at all.
**OK, not quite the only game in town. I belong to a CSA and I also frequent our local farmers markets, but none of them are selling grapes or bananas. Does the CSA help to cancel out my Walmart debt?
Monday, August 24, 2009
I Am Becoming the Crazy Neighborhood Curmudgeon
I am well on my way to becoming the neighborhood curmudgeon. Along the lines of "You kids get off my lawn!" Except that I don't have a lawn. And my issue is usually less with kids playing and more with 20-somethings peeing.
I am not joking.
One of the joys of living in the city (along with higher taxes, urban squirrels (rats), and sky rats (pigeons))* is an inordinate amount of bars within walking distance. This is awesome for me, because I don't have to worry about drinking and driving ever. Note: This feature was more awesome for me when I moved here as a hip happening city girl. Now that I have morphed into curmudgeon, the presense of the bars is neither here nor there.
This show was taken last year in the snow. Note the galoshes. While I realize that does seem a little over the top, I was trying to protect her paws from road salt. Because I am a good dog mom, even though she has a tumor.
Today? It's in the 80s, no chance of any precipitation and Cecilia's back in the galoshes. But let's call them booties now so it doesn't seem so weather-dependent, ok?
Last night Cecilia got up from her dog bed, stepped onto the hardwood floor and all four of her legs went out from under her. She just could not get a grip. I'm watching her scrabbling and thinking that this would have been funny had it not been so pathetic. Then I remember the booties. Which are basically balloons with the narrow part cut off, so they have terrific traction on the hardwood. I put them on her and she is doing MUCH better. She even walked down the stairs on her own this morning!
So now I'll be walking down the street with a Quasimodo dog wearing galoshes. Give me a few more years and I'll start muttering to myself. About smacky frat boys peeing in my alley.
* Every city has issues, but I still pink puffy heart Baltimore.
I am not joking.
One of the joys of living in the city (along with higher taxes, urban squirrels (rats), and sky rats (pigeons))* is an inordinate amount of bars within walking distance. This is awesome for me, because I don't have to worry about drinking and driving ever. Note: This feature was more awesome for me when I moved here as a hip happening city girl. Now that I have morphed into curmudgeon, the presense of the bars is neither here nor there.
Anyhoo...
Now my excitement for the evening consists of taking Cecilia for a walk, catching people peeing in alleys and then yelling at them in tones of righteous indignation. Woo! I just wish I had a super-sneaky camera and could catch them in the act. Wouldn't that be fun? I could put posters up everywhere with my pictures.
See? Curmudgeon.
But wait! There's more! (That Ginzu knife commercial is etched in my brain.)
On top of my curmudgeonliness (yes, I just made that up), let's add some crazy. Because that is what the neighbors are going to think when they see Cecilia in her booties. Let's take a look, shall we?
This show was taken last year in the snow. Note the galoshes. While I realize that does seem a little over the top, I was trying to protect her paws from road salt. Because I am a good dog mom, even though she has a tumor.
Today? It's in the 80s, no chance of any precipitation and Cecilia's back in the galoshes. But let's call them booties now so it doesn't seem so weather-dependent, ok?
Last night Cecilia got up from her dog bed, stepped onto the hardwood floor and all four of her legs went out from under her. She just could not get a grip. I'm watching her scrabbling and thinking that this would have been funny had it not been so pathetic. Then I remember the booties. Which are basically balloons with the narrow part cut off, so they have terrific traction on the hardwood. I put them on her and she is doing MUCH better. She even walked down the stairs on her own this morning!
So now I'll be walking down the street with a Quasimodo dog wearing galoshes. Give me a few more years and I'll start muttering to myself. About smacky frat boys peeing in my alley.
* Every city has issues, but I still pink puffy heart Baltimore.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Hair Products and Dead People
Note: The following post is completely and obsessively hair focused. You may want to skip this one if you a) naturally have hair like Farrah Fawcett, b) have hair like Sinead O'Connor in the late 90s or c) are male.
As you can kind of tell from my profile picture, I have curly hair. This has caused me tremendous angst as a child and young adult. I'm finally reconciled to my curl, but that doesn't stop me from believing in that "magic product." You know, the one that makes your curls large, soft, bouncy, alluring, frizz-free... you get the point. This has caused me to waste all kinds of money over the years.
Recently I shelled out a car payment to have a "curly haircut professional" cut my hair. She cut it dry instead of wet to "work with my natural curl." I have to say, that kind of made sense to me. What did not make sense was spending another car payment on her recommended products. I've been using them for about a month now, and I'm not impressed.
This is Devacurl AnGEL. Here is the official PR on it:
DevaCurl Angel 32 oz (946 oz) Hyper-Angelic Conditioning Gel, part of Deva
Products is a gentle heavenly and clear frizz control light weight get that
conditions as well as holds. PH 6
What is Angélls function? Angéll is a clear, light weight, moisturizing and defining gel. It crystallizes the wet curl formation until it dries, protecting it from outside interferences such as wind which can cause friction & frizz when agitated.
Supposedly you put it on while your hair is wet, and then let it air dry. I'd say this is average in performance. The plus is that your hair is not crunchy, but I think it is also frizz prone. With Baltimore's humidity, this is an issue.
This is Set Up and Above. Again, the PR:
I was using this on my dry hair (after using the gel above) to help with frizz control. Not too successful. So you can imagine my surprise when I actually take time to READ the label and it says to use on wet hair. I tried that last night and let it air dry. The results are not pretty. Thank goodness I have no dates tonight! I'm like Frizzy McFrizzerson up in here.
Meanwhile...
Behold the got2be glued. This stuff is exponentially cheaper than the special curly hair products above. And it works pretty well all things considered.
I will say that it makes your hair kind of crunchy at first, but you can smoosh out the crunch without getting too much frizz. And it lasts for a couple of days!
I find it ironic that it is marketed to the teen crowd as being exceptionally good for creating spikes and mohawks. And when I told the curly hair specialist that I was using it she acted completely shocked and appalled. According to her it leaves a film on my hair that even shampoo can't remove (not that you are actually supposed to shampoo curly hair all that much). Oh no! Not film!
And then I started thinking, maybe it's the film that takes away some of the frizz. So maybe I'm actually loving me some film and I don't even know it. Maybe film was Farrah's secret that she has now taken to the grave.
PS Shabaz Muffalet's shoes still squeak. I am no longer amused.
PPS Blogger, your spacing sucks. I am beginning to hate you. Can anyone recommend a better blog host?
As you can kind of tell from my profile picture, I have curly hair. This has caused me tremendous angst as a child and young adult. I'm finally reconciled to my curl, but that doesn't stop me from believing in that "magic product." You know, the one that makes your curls large, soft, bouncy, alluring, frizz-free... you get the point. This has caused me to waste all kinds of money over the years.
Recently I shelled out a car payment to have a "curly haircut professional" cut my hair. She cut it dry instead of wet to "work with my natural curl." I have to say, that kind of made sense to me. What did not make sense was spending another car payment on her recommended products. I've been using them for about a month now, and I'm not impressed.
This is Devacurl AnGEL. Here is the official PR on it:
DevaCurl Angel 32 oz (946 oz) Hyper-Angelic Conditioning Gel, part of Deva
Products is a gentle heavenly and clear frizz control light weight get that
conditions as well as holds. PH 6
What is Angélls function? Angéll is a clear, light weight, moisturizing and defining gel. It crystallizes the wet curl formation until it dries, protecting it from outside interferences such as wind which can cause friction & frizz when agitated.
Supposedly you put it on while your hair is wet, and then let it air dry. I'd say this is average in performance. The plus is that your hair is not crunchy, but I think it is also frizz prone. With Baltimore's humidity, this is an issue.
This is Set Up and Above. Again, the PR:
DevaCurl Set Up and Above 3.8 oz (115 ml), part of Deva Products, formally Set me Up is A versatile, moisturizing styler for optimum hold, lift and shine. Botanically infused with jojoba, olive oil and cupuacu seed oil.
Directions:Apply a generous amount of Set Up & Above! to the palms of your hands. In a rustling motion, move the product through the hair and scalp to create maximum lift, seperation and texture. Style to your individual needs and enjoy the
benefits of Set Up & Above!
I was using this on my dry hair (after using the gel above) to help with frizz control. Not too successful. So you can imagine my surprise when I actually take time to READ the label and it says to use on wet hair. I tried that last night and let it air dry. The results are not pretty. Thank goodness I have no dates tonight! I'm like Frizzy McFrizzerson up in here.
Meanwhile...
Behold the got2be glued. This stuff is exponentially cheaper than the special curly hair products above. And it works pretty well all things considered.
I will say that it makes your hair kind of crunchy at first, but you can smoosh out the crunch without getting too much frizz. And it lasts for a couple of days!
I find it ironic that it is marketed to the teen crowd as being exceptionally good for creating spikes and mohawks. And when I told the curly hair specialist that I was using it she acted completely shocked and appalled. According to her it leaves a film on my hair that even shampoo can't remove (not that you are actually supposed to shampoo curly hair all that much). Oh no! Not film!
And then I started thinking, maybe it's the film that takes away some of the frizz. So maybe I'm actually loving me some film and I don't even know it. Maybe film was Farrah's secret that she has now taken to the grave.
PS Shabaz Muffalet's shoes still squeak. I am no longer amused.
PPS Blogger, your spacing sucks. I am beginning to hate you. Can anyone recommend a better blog host?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Things Being Ogled
Bosslady had to run an errand at the bike shop today. Shabaz Muffalet told her to not ogle the hot young things that change your tires and generally make your bike safe to ride.
Except he said ogle rhyming with toggle. And I said I thought it was ogle rhyming with google.
Which brings me to my deep and abiding love for the interweb and specifically Merriam Webster. Did you know you can listen to the word's pronunciation? Try it for yourself: ogle. Click on the little red speaker icon and you'll find that ogle is actually pronounced OH-gull. Who knew?
Those crafty Merriam Webster folk, that's who.
UPDATE: Shabaz Muffalet's shoes are squeaking again! I am beside myself.
Except he said ogle rhyming with toggle. And I said I thought it was ogle rhyming with google.
Which brings me to my deep and abiding love for the interweb and specifically Merriam Webster. Did you know you can listen to the word's pronunciation? Try it for yourself: ogle. Click on the little red speaker icon and you'll find that ogle is actually pronounced OH-gull. Who knew?
Those crafty Merriam Webster folk, that's who.
UPDATE: Shabaz Muffalet's shoes are squeaking again! I am beside myself.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Cracking Myself Up
I have been keeping myself in stitches lately. Not like go to the ER and get stitched up stitches, or even cross stitch stitches (although I do stitch cross stitch) but just generally finding myself hilarious. It's highly entertaining. I recommend it. Finding yourself hilarious, that is. Because you probably won't find me hilarious. None of my coworkers do. But that's ok.
Example 1
My coworker's shoes squeak. His revolutionary name is Shabaz Muffaletta, so we'll just refer to him as Shabaz Muffalet for short. (ha! I'm cracking myself up again! will this ever end?!?!?). Anyway, to give you some background information I must tell you that I kind of work in sales. So I'm constantly on the phone and usually making cold calls. Somehow or another I got fixated on the squeak of Shabaz Muffalet's shoe, so that every time he walked by I cracked up. Needless to say, this has impeded my productivity today. Not to mention there are going to be a ton of people listening to phone messages that end abruptly in laughter (if you are in Maryland, DC or Virginia and get a voicemail full of laughter and snorts, that's me. I apologize).
Example 2
I call my sister to say hi. Turns out she is cleaning out her infant's closet. [That girl does have a LOT of clothes. So many that I was forbidden to buy any for her. How cruel! Seriously, the first girl baby in the family and I can't buy any pink? Where is the justice in this world?]. Anyway, back to the closet. The minute she told me that do you know what popped into my head?
Eminem*.
Specifically his "Cleaning Out My Closet" song. I don't know if that is the exact title, but I do know how the chorus goes. So I sang it to my sister:
Multiple times.
Off key.
Whenever she tried to change the subject.
And all the time I'm finding myself hy.ster.i.cal.
Example 3
Bosslady wore a dress to work today. It's a hand me down from a good friend of hers who died in an accident**. The dress is pretty, but not Bosslady's normal style. Everyone in the office has commented on this fact - it's not just me. At which point I said "Hey Bosslady, Gilligan's Island called. Marianne wants her dress back." Except that I messed up and said Ginger because I couldn't remember Marianne. Which sparked a whole Gilligan's Island conversation. Which was eclipsed by Shabaz Muffalet's squeak stoppage on account of the Gold Bond Powder that Bosslady brought back from the Walmart.
Maybe now I can make some calls. Or maybe I'll just remember the squeakage and crack up again. Either way I have to get back to work.
*Explicit lyrics. Be warned. Eminem has some issues.
** I know I have no couth. Or would that actually be better phrased, "I know I am uncouth"? Anyway, couth = not me.
Example 1
My coworker's shoes squeak. His revolutionary name is Shabaz Muffaletta, so we'll just refer to him as Shabaz Muffalet for short. (ha! I'm cracking myself up again! will this ever end?!?!?). Anyway, to give you some background information I must tell you that I kind of work in sales. So I'm constantly on the phone and usually making cold calls. Somehow or another I got fixated on the squeak of Shabaz Muffalet's shoe, so that every time he walked by I cracked up. Needless to say, this has impeded my productivity today. Not to mention there are going to be a ton of people listening to phone messages that end abruptly in laughter (if you are in Maryland, DC or Virginia and get a voicemail full of laughter and snorts, that's me. I apologize).
Example 2
I call my sister to say hi. Turns out she is cleaning out her infant's closet. [That girl does have a LOT of clothes. So many that I was forbidden to buy any for her. How cruel! Seriously, the first girl baby in the family and I can't buy any pink? Where is the justice in this world?]. Anyway, back to the closet. The minute she told me that do you know what popped into my head?
Eminem*.
Specifically his "Cleaning Out My Closet" song. I don't know if that is the exact title, but I do know how the chorus goes. So I sang it to my sister:
I'm sorry mama,
I never meant to hurt you-oo.
I never meant to make you cry
But tonight, I'm cleaning out my closet.
One more time...
Multiple times.
Off key.
Whenever she tried to change the subject.
And all the time I'm finding myself hy.ster.i.cal.
Example 3
Bosslady wore a dress to work today. It's a hand me down from a good friend of hers who died in an accident**. The dress is pretty, but not Bosslady's normal style. Everyone in the office has commented on this fact - it's not just me. At which point I said "Hey Bosslady, Gilligan's Island called. Marianne wants her dress back." Except that I messed up and said Ginger because I couldn't remember Marianne. Which sparked a whole Gilligan's Island conversation. Which was eclipsed by Shabaz Muffalet's squeak stoppage on account of the Gold Bond Powder that Bosslady brought back from the Walmart.
Maybe now I can make some calls. Or maybe I'll just remember the squeakage and crack up again. Either way I have to get back to work.
*Explicit lyrics. Be warned. Eminem has some issues.
** I know I have no couth. Or would that actually be better phrased, "I know I am uncouth"? Anyway, couth = not me.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Meet Cecilia
This is my dog, Cecilia.
I'll be referencing her quite a bit in this blog, so you'll need to remember the name.
Oh goodness, I CANNOT figure out the spacing on Blogger. Ugh. Sorry for the middle-school-yearbook effect. I need blogging lessons.
Cecilia joined me in December 2005. We (well, the rescue group and vet anyway) think she was ten years old at the time. I had been planning to get a boy dog, but I met her and fell in love. So she got named from the Simon and Garfunkle CD my parents got me for Christmas that year.
Here is an early picture of us hiking. Look how young and innocent we are, back in the good ol' days of 2007.
Here is Cecilia being sassy with her boyfriend, Matty. Notice her jaunty bandana and the sly way she is staking her claim on Matty's paw. I think I must point out that Cecilia is somewhere between seven and ten years older than Matty. She is a not a dog. She is a cougar.**
Here is a picture of Cecilia and Matty from this summer, chillin' at Fort McHenry.
As you can see, this year has not been so kind to her. She started rocking the Quasimodo look last fall with the tumor on her right shoulder*. Every time you turn around that sucker gets bigger. One day it's going to split right open and a fully grown mini-Cecilia is gonna pop out. Won't that be cool?
Along with the tumor, she also grew a bump on her eye. It's harmless, but it makes one eye produce more gunk than the other. So she's got that going for her, which is nice.
Cecilia is jealous of my laptop. When I'm on the computer she pushes my hand with her nose. Constantly. The only way to stop it is to pull her up on the couch with me. Which explains why I'm contorted around a sprawled dog body in my lap. And there's a fresh batch of eye gunk on the sofa cushion. Oh Cecilia, you're breakin' my heart.
*Note for you My-Dogs-Are-My-Children people: Yes, she's under a vet's care for the tumor. No, we are not going to remove it. No, she is not in any pain. Yes, we have pain meds at the ready in case she does have pain.
**Hey MDAMC people, did you notice that Cecilia has her own seat belt? Because I really do care about her, honest.
I'll be referencing her quite a bit in this blog, so you'll need to remember the name.Oh goodness, I CANNOT figure out the spacing on Blogger. Ugh. Sorry for the middle-school-yearbook effect. I need blogging lessons.
Cecilia joined me in December 2005. We (well, the rescue group and vet anyway) think she was ten years old at the time. I had been planning to get a boy dog, but I met her and fell in love. So she got named from the Simon and Garfunkle CD my parents got me for Christmas that year.
Here is an early picture of us hiking. Look how young and innocent we are, back in the good ol' days of 2007.
Here is Cecilia being sassy with her boyfriend, Matty. Notice her jaunty bandana and the sly way she is staking her claim on Matty's paw. I think I must point out that Cecilia is somewhere between seven and ten years older than Matty. She is a not a dog. She is a cougar.**
Here is a picture of Cecilia and Matty from this summer, chillin' at Fort McHenry.
As you can see, this year has not been so kind to her. She started rocking the Quasimodo look last fall with the tumor on her right shoulder*. Every time you turn around that sucker gets bigger. One day it's going to split right open and a fully grown mini-Cecilia is gonna pop out. Won't that be cool?
Along with the tumor, she also grew a bump on her eye. It's harmless, but it makes one eye produce more gunk than the other. So she's got that going for her, which is nice.
Cecilia is jealous of my laptop. When I'm on the computer she pushes my hand with her nose. Constantly. The only way to stop it is to pull her up on the couch with me. Which explains why I'm contorted around a sprawled dog body in my lap. And there's a fresh batch of eye gunk on the sofa cushion. Oh Cecilia, you're breakin' my heart.
*Note for you My-Dogs-Are-My-Children people: Yes, she's under a vet's care for the tumor. No, we are not going to remove it. No, she is not in any pain. Yes, we have pain meds at the ready in case she does have pain.
**Hey MDAMC people, did you notice that Cecilia has her own seat belt? Because I really do care about her, honest.
Friday, August 14, 2009
It's Like Date-Apalooza Up In Here and Baltimore Restaurant Week Is Making Me Fat
Both of those items are true.
The ironic thing is that I actually do not like going on dates. I generally enjoy dating someone, but the whole awkward-getting-to-know-you-date-stuff does not float my boat. I have a singles event tonight and two dates on Sunday (time management. I'm all about it). My coworkers are thrilled, especially my married-with-two-kids Bosslady who lives vicariously through me. She's all like "For crying out loud, I hope you kiss someone this weekend." Because the sad but true fact is that I have not kissed anyone since my evil ex-boyfriend. In 2005. (How embarrassing, right?)
Sadly, I will not be able to share all of the gory details of my dates. Because what if a suitor of mine happens upon my blog? Yikes!
Moving on...
I can't really say that restaurant week is solely responsible for making me fat. I have to blame part of it on my food friend. FF and I have the same taste in food and we both love trying new places, so we are all about restaurant week. Of course FF is 6 feet tall and a runner, so it's a little easier for him to slough off the effects of restaurant week.
Usually if I'm going out to eat I'll try to eat half my dinner and take the rest home. Not so with FF! If we go together we each eat half of the appetizer, entree and dessert and then trade. So I'm basically eating double dinners. I try to work it so that FF gets the bigger portion, but when jumbo lump crab is on the plate all bets are off.
They've just extended restaurant week. I'm going to pretend I don't know that.
The ironic thing is that I actually do not like going on dates. I generally enjoy dating someone, but the whole awkward-getting-to-know-you-date-stuff does not float my boat. I have a singles event tonight and two dates on Sunday (time management. I'm all about it). My coworkers are thrilled, especially my married-with-two-kids Bosslady who lives vicariously through me. She's all like "For crying out loud, I hope you kiss someone this weekend." Because the sad but true fact is that I have not kissed anyone since my evil ex-boyfriend. In 2005. (How embarrassing, right?)
Sadly, I will not be able to share all of the gory details of my dates. Because what if a suitor of mine happens upon my blog? Yikes!
Moving on...
I can't really say that restaurant week is solely responsible for making me fat. I have to blame part of it on my food friend. FF and I have the same taste in food and we both love trying new places, so we are all about restaurant week. Of course FF is 6 feet tall and a runner, so it's a little easier for him to slough off the effects of restaurant week.
Usually if I'm going out to eat I'll try to eat half my dinner and take the rest home. Not so with FF! If we go together we each eat half of the appetizer, entree and dessert and then trade. So I'm basically eating double dinners. I try to work it so that FF gets the bigger portion, but when jumbo lump crab is on the plate all bets are off.
They've just extended restaurant week. I'm going to pretend I don't know that.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
First Post
Oh my goodness. The pressure! Will I be pithy? funny? amusing? entertaining? None of the above?
Today let's talk about buying men gifts. Specifically my brother in law. For starters, the man lives across the country. So it's not like I know his daily habits. Would he enjoy a Starb*cks card, or is he in a committed relationship with a local coffeehouse? [OK, even knowing my brother in law just a little I think he's more likely to be a pot of coffee at home kind of guy instead of mingling with some hippie-coffee-roasting commmies. But really, what do I know?] Well, I do know that my BIL likes to hunt. Would sending a gun across the country send the wrong message? "Hey! Happy Birthday! Don't pull a Dick Cheney on my sister, ok?!" And is the correct terminology actually a gun? Or is it a rifle? Shotgun?
So no gun. Or Starb*cks. Which leaves me to my backup plan: ask my sister what to get. Per her advice my BIL is getting a Target gift card.
Who knows, maybe he'll buy a rifle.
Today let's talk about buying men gifts. Specifically my brother in law. For starters, the man lives across the country. So it's not like I know his daily habits. Would he enjoy a Starb*cks card, or is he in a committed relationship with a local coffeehouse? [OK, even knowing my brother in law just a little I think he's more likely to be a pot of coffee at home kind of guy instead of mingling with some hippie-coffee-roasting commmies. But really, what do I know?] Well, I do know that my BIL likes to hunt. Would sending a gun across the country send the wrong message? "Hey! Happy Birthday! Don't pull a Dick Cheney on my sister, ok?!" And is the correct terminology actually a gun? Or is it a rifle? Shotgun?
So no gun. Or Starb*cks. Which leaves me to my backup plan: ask my sister what to get. Per her advice my BIL is getting a Target gift card.
Who knows, maybe he'll buy a rifle.
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