I'm sick

and I'm sooo not funny when I'm sick. In different circumstances, I would probably take this opportunity to tell you the million and one reasons why New Years is a sham (especially for the Jews...we had our new years celebration back in September, when there weren't any ridiculous pre fix menus and all inclusive club charges), or give you a recap of 2008 and all the reasons it sucked (and rocked - as in, rock on Ette1's finger, she got the bling, she got engaged, that automatically makes 2008 the best year ever), or maybe I'd share with you some funny New Year's resolutions (of which I can't think of any right now b/c I already told you - I'm not feeling well)

So instead, I will leave you with this: May 2009 be better than 2008. May tonight be better than last night. and may tomorrow morning, you not wake up in a strange place without your shoes. Happy New Year people. L'chaim.

The Christmas Kangaroo

We don't discriminate...Christmas can be fun(ny) too...



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I hate scary movies

I had a perfectly lovely weekend, exchanged gifts with family, kicked ass in Taboo (was even voted MVP) and had lots of QT with Angel Baby. And then I had to shit the whole thing up by watching a scary movie and now I'm a bundle of nerves and basically sitting on my couch whimpering until Pants comes home. It's actually all AB's fault. She was sick this weekend and made a point to sneeze in my mouth like once every 9 minutes. So now I have a wicked sore through and skipped out on good times at a hanukah party, trading gifts and eating latkahs, and instead am curled up on the couch with my pathetic slanket substitute feeling bad about myself. So to pass the time until Pants gets here I put on a movie, I Am Legend. Will Smith, he was fun in Men in Black and loved him in FPOBA so I figured it could be a good choice. I knew the story was him alone in NYC, but figured maybe he like fell asleep during a bad storm or something and everyone cleared out, but that he stats a new society and ends up meeting a girl and they fall in love, etc, etc, happy ending. Well that was not the case. I won't scare you with the serious details, but basically some virus wipes everyone out and the only survivors are zombie people who roam around at night trying to bite your face off. It's that kind of be-really-quiet-so-the-zombie-doesn't-catch-you, and don't-look-around-that-corner-cause-he'll-jump-out type of flick. And I hate those freaking movies. I never intentionally scare myslef. What the hell for?!? Life is scary enough, I wake up in fear every morning before I look in the mirror hoping I don't have a zit or a new wrinkle forming. I certainly don't need to think about not going out at night cause a zomie race is trying to sniff out my fresh human blood. But I can't turn off a movie once I'm in it, I kept hoping the chic would show up and they'd live happily ever after - so I suffered through the whole thing. Now I turned on every light in my house and I'm looking sideways at Bam casue there's something about the way she's breathing in her sleep that makes me think she might be infected too. This is not how you should spend the first night of hanukah. I hope that famous movie producers are reading this and really make an effort to brighten up their films. Think shopping sprees ala Pretty Woman, and Shrek-esc characters are always enjoyable, never hurts to put Kevin James in it.

BS

You might have heard (if you read Perez everyday like me) that UK Cosmo basically made up a bunch of stuff in their ScarJo article where she talks all about her marriage. She basically never said any of it, so they had to issue a whole public apology.What I find funny is that no one is making them apologize for the other giant lie - which is her picture on the front cover. They airbrushed the shit out of her. Maybe I'm just getting a little disillusioned with media and celeb gossip in particular, but I think it's total bs. She's fine with you tapping her boobs up, removing any trace of a wrinkle or zit, cutting 12 pounds off her mid-section, creating eyebrows, etc, but not saying she loves her husband. Without all that stuff, she's basically just a glorified Jodie Sweein.


I don't know what's with me today, I usually love that sort of thing, but I'm in no mood right now. What's the point of snow if you can't have a snow day.

I got a problem wit' Jew

30 years old (14 years of which were spent in Hebrew school) and I still don't know the proper spelling of the damn festival of lights. And you know what? I blame the Jews. Yeah that's right, I said it. It's the Jews' fault that there's no proper spelling for Hannukah. Or Hanukkah. Or Chanukah. Or Channukkah. Or Hannuka. Which is it?!?!? My holiday cards always end up looking like an F-ed up dyslexia project. Happy...holidays. That's what I'm gonna start going with - I'll keep it generic, thus slowly rotting away my heritage and dismissing my religion - one holiday card at a time, b/c I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to spell Hanukkah.

Christians got it easy. C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S. That's it. There are no ifs, ands or buts about it. It's Christ and mas. No one ever messes it up and spells it Christmass - because then you'd be a dumbass for calling Christ an ass. Or insinuating that Christ has become "mass" marketed. I mean, I'm just saying... Nope, I'm blaming the Jews this year. They need to get their act together. We need to rally together and get ourselves some videographers and take a stand on this whole Hanukkah thing. It's tearing us apart, people.

Spin Jew Round

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. There's an official Major League Dreidel organization - with an upcoming tournament right around the corner. Their website is touting an event on December 21st at Fontana's on the Lower East Side....

Now I need to know something. Why is it that all Jewish event video montages follow the exact same format, pretty much the same musical opus - there's always the live footage, followed by a few stills which slowly zoom in or away from the camera, at which point something sort of folksy and campish and a little too Cat Stevens (for all the wrong reasons) starts to play, and then it freeze frames, and then it jumps back to a live moment, and then ends with a still again, fading out. See what I mean here...

I need to know - can these Jewy organizations not convince some of their media industry tribesmen to hook them up with some video-making resources?? Can't Spielberg let some goofy guy in his flash department take an hour and help out the friggin dreidel organization to get a better, more spectacular video than this? Jews are supposed to know people, but instead, all their promotional videos look like crap created at a bar mitzvah - or on an Israeli teen tour.

I would have totally signed up (I love me some dreidel, and gelt?! It doesn't get much better than gelt) but I'm too scared I'll end up in next year's promotional video.

Obama Nation

Because there's really no-one funnier than Robin Williams.

Happy Hump Day.

The Slanket

Pants keeps asking me what I want for hanukah and I tried to tell him but he's not into this gift. It's the slanket. A blanket with sleeves. BA RILL IANT!

Think about it, you are all cuddled up on the couch, cozy and warm in your blanky when one of those freaking annoying 1-800-MATTRES (leave off the last s for savings) commercials comes on, you need to change the channel immediately before that stupid songs becomes trapped in your brain forever but the remote is on the coffee table. To reach it, you'd have to uncover your arms and risk shocking your whole system with yucky cold air. Instantly your cozy vibe is ruined. Not convinced? What about eating, helloooooooo crutial couch potato activity. Can't eat and be warm at the same time, you need a blanket with sleeves. if this slanket company was public, I'd buy stock.

Pants there you go: Blanket / Sleeve combo, perfect gift.

Application for Federal Bail Out Funds

click on it to enlarge, it's good stuff

Recession Shemession

I don't buy this "economic downturn" business I keep hearing about. If today is any measure then the economy is freaking booming and consumerism is at an all time high and there are no sales. I took the day off from work because I had 10 days that were going unused this year. Apparently I work too hard! Well of course I was punished for it. On my off day I spent probably 4 hours answering emails an hour and a half on the phone and 1/2 hour crying about it all. My intention for the day was to run major errands, get all my holiday shopping in.

First stop post office, need stamps: Mob scene. Do you know who is at the post office in the middle of a work day? Crazy people. Who stand too close behind you in line. Listen sister, you are not getting any closer to your turn at the stamp machine by touching my ass. Paid full price for stamps.

Next up, book store: Between the chocolates, cds, boardgames and calendars I barely found any books. I finally was able to negotiate my way around the strollers (it's possible a stroller got pushed over, it's unlikely there was a kid in it, but seriously nannies, move that shit out of the way). The line basically wrapped around the store twice. I had like a whole box of Godiva before I got to the front, considered just tossing the box and not paying at that point, but thought it was too early in the day to steal. Paid full price for books.

Argh Bloomingdales: I hate this place. I hate everyone in it. Did you know they don't make wallets that aren't made of leather? It's true. Unless it has SpongeBob Square Pants on the front, adult wallets are made of animals. By the time the third old woman pushed me, I was out of there, wallet-less.

Bergdorf's: The gay guy in gay glasses suggests I "google nylon wallet"

Bendels: Walk in, walk out

Needed to stop at Anthropolgie: Do you know where that is? Uh huh, in Rock Center, Christmas tree, tourists - hell. I sort of blocked out that part but I know I bought stuff because I have a receipt that says I paid full price.

At this point I'm feeling weak and for my own safety and that of others I need to get out of midtown, but I'm still without wallet - Vegitarian sister needs something to open during the festival of lights. I actually go back to Bloomingdales. This time before I hit the wallet section, I make a pit stop at Forty Carrots. Yogurt, everything feels better. Back downstairs, I actually asked the sales girl if patent leather is really leather - she's thinks aloud "probably not." Great, I'm sure she's wrong, but maybe Jessica won't realize. Paid full price

Real shopping is bullshit. From now on I will exclusively shop on line where I don't wait in line. And for the record, "You're Welcome America!" Me and the other 8 trillion people who were shopping in NY today spent our hard-earned cash to revive the economy.

When all else fails...

at least there's Flight of the Conchords.

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Articles like this are the reason people don't read

This brilliant ditty was featured on theknot.com, the 'ole 'getting married' website for chicks. Now, Pants and H-ette, maybe you can prove me wrong here, but I'm fairly certain these signs didn't apply when you decided ya'll wanted to spend the rest of your long, healthy lives with us Ettes. Below are the knot's seven signs he's about to propose - and my commentary repudiating each:

Seven Signs He's About to Propose

The Knot

1. He's Growing out of His Bachelor Ways
um, this could simply be because he's like 49 years old and realizes that it's not so attractive anymore for him to be living in a pizza box den with his flicked boogers stuck to the iron futon frame he both hangs out and sleeps on.

2. He's Redecorating
see number one. Futon. Beer cans. Pizza boxes. Artwork purchased at Bed Bath and Beyond. It could merely be time for an upgrade.

3. He's Curbing Big Purchases
It's because his ass is broke. He ain't got no job. He ain't got shit to do. He's saving what funds he has for those new Nikes and a bag of weed.

4. He's Not Complaining About Weddings
He's not complaining about weddings, he's complaining about the economy. And that Netflix sent the wrong DVD. And that his snow tires are ugly. And there's nothing to drink in the house.

5. He's Taken an Interest in Your Jewelry
He may have a secret life pulling off jewelry heists for all you know - and he's trying to learn more about jewels. Unless he specifically says to you, 'what's your left ring finger size,' him taking an interest in the pearl necklace in your jewelry roll means one of two things - he's playing dress up when you are not around or he's a thief.

6. He Wants to Meet the Parents
If he hasn't met your parents yet, this is problem number one. You ain't even close to a proposal, sister. He is not even considering marrying you until long after he has met your mother and had a long, long time to let it sink in that some of those 'issues' may be genetic, and he 'may' see them re-emerge at some point during your relationship. This may also involve a go at counseling. I'm just saying.

7. He's Acting out of Character
Wow. If theknot thinks that a man acting out of character means he is about to propose, than slap me around and call me Suzy. I know men don't 'act out of character' as frequently as women do, but c'mon. He could have simply come across some unexpected porn in his online quest - you know, the kind where you search for Assmaster and you get Margaret Cho.

End of the World

So this month I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy for book club. I f-ing loved the book. I probably shouldn't be sharing this with you readerettes, as we haven't officially met on the book yet - so I'm sort of killing the hype before the big event, but whatev. Anyway, I read the book in about 4 hours, I couldn't put it down, H-ette could have told me the house was on fire, or my favorite Marc Jacobs shoes were being eaten by the dog and I probably wouldn't have budged. My eyes were dry afterward, b/c I blinked less - that's how much I liked this book.

Now don't get me wrong - this wasn't a warm and fuzzy number. But it got me thinking about what will happen when the shit hits the fan. This is something that H-ette thinks about - he sometimes gets conspiracy theorist on me...but it's okay, I'm totally picking up what he's putting down. So a few months ago, we went to Target and stocked up on a couple 12 packs of bottled water and like 10 cans of food. Oh, and a little first aid kit. And we thought we were set. After reading this book, I sort of realize that that would have gotten us through about an afternoon, so we'd be dead - siyonara.

So I've decided that I want H-ette to build me a bomb shelter. We have an acre and a half - we have plenty of space to dig - H-ette wants a pool, I say F the pool - give a girl a bomb shelter, and make it smart and snappy. Here's what I want my underground concrete palace to include:

1. I want technology down there - if I'm gonna be stuck in a hole I want dimmer switches (simulated day/night) and iPizzle and loads of DVD's.
   
2. I want like 100 crossword puzzle books. There's no point in dumbing it down just b/c I'm stuck in a hole. Must. Keep. Mind. Happy.
   
3. Tempurpedic bed. Why should my back suffer just b/c the world has ended?
4. A lifetime supply of Reeses Pieces, Reeses peanut butter cups, Snickers, cookie dough, carrot cake and brownies (made by my next door neighbor's kids - they make some sick brownies). Oh, and Annie's Organic mac and cheese. I'm stuck in a hole - who the hell cares if I get fat?
5. Wallpaper - now's a good time to get creative on the home front - if I get bored of it, I don't really have anything else to do, I'll peel it off, inch by inch and start over.
6. Drugs -Now's a good time to try all those drugs I was always too scared to try. Why not? I'm stuck in a hole.
7. Lots and lots of wine and liquor. Stuck. In. hole. I want to be razzled.

Okay, h-ette. Let me know when it's ready. I invited Pants and One Kazzler up to share it with us, Big Love style. (Minus Bam.)

I'm Pimpin' Merch

There are no excuses for all your kids, dogs, friends' dogs, friends' kids, friends' kids' dogs not to be rocking some kvetchette gear this holiday season. So.

Step one. Log on to www.cafepress.com/kvetchette
Step two. Ooh and aah at the adorable little pictures, the cute onesies...fa la la la la, blah blah blah blah.
Step three. Giggle out loud at the item descriptions, hand-crafted by yours truly. Compliment me on my witty writing style. (yes, that's compliment, not complement.)
Step four. Buy something. Put it on your credit card - consider it a charitable contribution - the Ettes have made no money from this blog which has provided you with endless hours of entertainment, free of charge. So buy an f-ing onesie, or a dog tee. It will make our year, and it will certainly make your kid or pooch the coolest on the block.

You're Bacon Me Crazy

Bacon tastes good. I mean realy good. (1, earmuffs - you are not allowed to hear the following - you might be persuaded to try the delectable wavy meat and your Abba will have the Israeli army target me for assassination.) And while we're on the subject, the Jews have suffered enough in life - it's like adding insult to injury that God will smote them down if they eat bacon. I mean, why couldn't God smote them down for eating things like sardines? Or Jello - no one really likes Jello, it wouldn't be that hard to give up. But bacon? Bacon is amazing. It's like the wonder drug of the culinary world. Or the Tussin. It doesn't matter what you are making - if you infuse bacon...or better yet, rendered bacon fat into just about anything, it will be a winner, people will love you, and they will chant your name. I don't know why Top Chef contestants don't have some smoky, thick Peter Luger-worthy bacon in their stash to add to everything they make. If I were to be on Top Chef (and don't laugh, I just made a Vietnamese Beef Lemongrass soup from scratch and it was wicked good) it would be my ingredient of choice. They could call me the Baconette.

Salty waves, bubbly fat
Oh you sizzle on my tongue
You drip your salty goodness
All over my ingredients
Sometimes wrapping around like a blanket
Sometimes spread out like a rug
Your journey is not important to me
Your destination is what I seek
It creates a culinary orgasm
Bacon, you taste like heaven

Did you know

That compliment and complement are two separate words - with different meanings, that are spelled differently?!?!

I learned that today, thought I'd share.

Compliment:
1 a: an expression of esteem, respect, affection, or admiration ; especially : an admiring remark b: formal and respectful recognition : honor2plural : best wishes : regards

Here's how you would use it:
If someone said to me "Ette1, your ring is so blingy." I would say, "Thank you for that compliment, and I know."

Complement:
1 a: something that fills up, completes, or makes perfect b: the quantity, number, or assortment required to make a thing complete ; especially : the whole force or personnel of a ship c: one of two mutually completing parts : counterpart

Here's how to use it:
The gift that would best complement my ring is diamond earrings. (Pants I'm serious, Hanukah, work it out)


Enjoy the knowledge!

... in my Pants

2 said I don't post enough so I'm working on making it up to you. This video is floating around the internets, so freaking funny and you know I love the cameo. Warning: Not safe for parents to view.



Also, side commentary. Jamie Lynn is skanky - what's with her role on Entourage where she basically plays herself as a sex maniac, going for the ugliest one in the bunch. Sort of a step down from Meadow if you ask me? Oh someone just told me she's dating that dude in real life. Blech.

My fiance is easy

My mom generously placed the announcement of my engagement in our hometown pub - also known as Jew Weekly, or The Jewish Exponent.

Great pic, cute write up, all good. She brings me a hard copy this weekend, which I share with my beloved fiance. He takes a look at the page and remarks that he's previously "hooked up" with at least two of the other engaged women on the page. That's right, two other bitches, not including me.

Apparently my man has a thing for Northeast Philly JAPs, and he's a total slut.

Great.

UPDATE: Pants called to inform me that he only "hooked up" with one of those girls and the other he just "kinda knows." He wants that on record so my mom doesn't think poorly of him. He also noted that he's had a very varied, multi-culti dating past and just happens to have an affinity for bossy Jewish girls, and there is nothing wrong with that. So there you have it, Pants is slightly more discriminating than we originally thought and in the end, he only gave the big rock to one JAP - so we all win.

Swim class part Ew

Went to baby swim again today, but this time I was just a bystander which gave me a lot of observation time.  Here's what I discovered:

• 30-something married jewish guys are not hot
  
• Their wives are all skinny bitches
  
• Public pools are gross
  

I'll explain...

On the guys (For the record this does not apply to Bro-In-Law.  I do not see him without a shirt on, whenever he disrobes for a swimming activity, my eyes instantly avert themselves to other points of interest, as such I have no clue what he looks like sans clothes which is fine for me.)  But all the other schlubs at the pool were fair game and man it wasn't a fun game for me.  About seven dudes in their swim trunks splashed in the baby pool with their little ones (just realized that's a pub, so I'll leave it in which makes me feel clever so I'll leave it in).  If they weren't hairy backed and bald-headed, they were 12-year-old boy skinny and white as a sheet of paper.  What happens to these guys after I dos and babies?  I remember you guys in college, you were all kinda hot, tan, strong, at least toned looking, certainly more hair was in the appropriate places.  Now not so much.  Unless this is not the type of guy I hung with.  These were probably the nerdy guys who actually visited the library in school and became important richy riches.  Which probably explains their wives.  

Every single one of them was a size zero, brunette, in leggings and with a scowl on her face.  From far away, you'd think they were hot I guess, but get up close and the "annoying" just radiates off of them.  The sound of their voices must make the hair literally fall off their husbands heads and get stuck on his back and he's too defeated from her constant complaints to try to brush them off.  And what's with wearing leggings as actual pants?!  This is my latest peeve.  Fine under a dress, or over sized tunic, I'll even accept it at the gym.  Not fine as outerwear in public.  I can see your whole ass, I know some would argue, but it's not what I'm looking for at kiddie swim.  

So I spent a lot of time looking in the other direction, and over there were teenage swimmers competing in a meet.  All these skinny (yet toned) young swimmers with their Michael Phelps-esc swim pants barely hovering above their pelvis bone.  I felt like a perv, had to look away again.  I watched the kids for a while, they were semi-cute, but most just looked sort of shocked and wet.  Then I noticed one unattended tot spitting into the side of the pool.  And I imagined if spitting is happening in that pool, other, likely less sanitary bodily functions must be happening. 

The whole experience is unpleasant.  I hope Angle Baby is getting a lot out of it.  And next weekend, I'll resume normal sunday activities.  Chillaxing. 

Kvetchette's Holiday Gift List

Everyone loves gift ideas. So here are some of the Ette's suggestions, at various recession-friendly price points:

Mind you, we don't want any of the below - they are merely suggestions for those "other" people in your life. We, on the other hand, accept spa gift certificates, handbags by designers that start with the names Marc, Miu, Christian and Yves, and I'm personally running low on my Bond #9 Chinatown perfume - hint hint.

For the Pranksterette

Know an angry black man? Someone too scared to own a real gun? Or maybe suffer daily with an office prankster? This might be the gift for them. Let the cats soar and see if they land on their feet. Also available with babies, bosses or cupids - pick your pleasure! $10 well spent. Click here.

For the Never-Flosser

Know someone who needs a flossing reminder? Got a baconophite for a boyfriend? Show him how much you care - and kill two birds with one string, while you're at it - with bacon floss. Yes, I'm serious. Serious as a pig. $9. Get your fix here.

For the Person Who Should Kick the Ironic Slogan Trend Bucket

Wish someone were dead? Know they're gonna go soon? Take care of their funeral arrangements for them - starting with a coffin, courtesy of PETA. So what if they'll go down into the ground covered in PETA slogans - it's only $75, and you can't even get buried in Styrofoam for that.

For the New Parent

The title of this book says it all. I'm fairly certain this was read by one of my parents when I was a child. And look how I turned out?! Change a kid's life, for a mere $9.95 - order yours here.

For the Chef-Boyardee

This is just gross. There aren't even really words to describe it. But apparently it really works, and separates the yolk from the egg quite well. Give the budding chef in your life a kitchen tool like Peter Petrie Egg Separator and they will think of you every time they cook breakfast. Whether it's a good thought, we can't say. But it will be a thought no less. All for $12.95.

Bronx Mowgli Wentz

That is the name Ashley Simpson and Pete Wentz named their little dude, born a couple weeks ago. I know news sometimes travels slow across the ole' internets, and I am just catching word of this naming. Here are my thoughts: Bronx in and of itself is kind of badass. It's where H-ette was born, so it would make some sense if he and I named our kid Bronx. I would never do that to a child, b/c children have hard times pronouncing X's and it would come out sounding like a phlegmy booger. Bwonchgghsth. Ew. Now neither Pete nor Assley is from the Bronx. I am venturing a guess that neither of them have ever BEEN to the Bronx, and I would like to note that a visit would have been in order before naming your firstborn after such a place. Have you been to Arthur Avenue lately? Have you even heard of it? How about Yankee Stadium?

Now on to Mowgli. Again, this is a name not easily pronounced by kids between the ages of 2 and 15. It also takes on a phlegmy aspect. It may be a reference to The Jungle Book, however I can think of a couple names from that tale that would have been better than Mowgli. Like Father Wolf, or Nag, or Baloo. Mowgli makes me think of hogwarts. And being a kid and having a name that brings to mind hogs or warts is bad news.

In my opinion, this kid would have been better off with one of the following names:

• Jungle Juice Jerry
• Gasious Clay
• Peter Eater Jr.
  
• Surprise! Boy
• Iam Gay
• Bland Tastebud

I'm lazy

Here was my day:

Awake at 10:30

Lay on couch till 11:30

Wake Pants up, tell him I'm bored

He gets up, we lay on couch together

Watch TV

1:30, he showers, I start to make breakfast

A frittata (spinach, cheese, turkey sausage) it was the highlight of my day

Pants doesn't like frittatas apparently (He actually says "I like the classics")

2:15 I clean up, Pants leaves for work

2:20 I'm back on the couch

2:21 on: TV

3:45 go pee

3:46-3:52 look really close in mirror, decide hairline should be about 1/4 inch lower

4:00 try to make cauliflower soup

4:15 realize I don't have blender or food processor, try to mash cauliflower, not the same

4:20 clean up cauliflower disaster

4:30 lay on couch 

4:31 watch pre-recorded "Say Yes to the Dress" 

4:33 decide brides are lame

4:35 talk to sunday buddy, we discuss getting together, but it's raining, no one wants to get up, we decide to talk later after watching Britney documentary 

4:50-6:45 take unplanned nap on couch

6:50 drink water, pee

7:10-8:00 Brief moment of creativity strikes, enjoy arts and crafts 

8:12 Heat up old spaghetti

8:15 Eat pasta on couch in front of TV

8:45-9:15 Rest eyes while laying on couch

10:00-11:10 BRITNEY

11:15 shower

11:30 Pants comes home

12:00-Now Sports center, tired, going to bed

Great Success!

So after all the worrying, Thanks-Doing was pulled off with hardly a hitch. Food, folks and fun - it was a great day. Everyone seemed to like the new digs...the dining room seats 18...I didn't burn the turkey (or forget about it altogether)...however, I also didn't "prep" it, so I guess I can't take all the credit. As the former veggemite that I am, I took one look at my naked, 31 lb bird and went into a nervous fit of laughter. At 7:00 in the morning. "I'm not sure I can do it," I told H-ette. He wasn't much more help, having just shlepped the turkey into the sink and cut off the plastic from it, he recoiled at the sheer, raw nakedness of the monster bird, and wished me luck. So thank goodness for sis-ette. I woke her up, and within 2 minutes, sleepy eyed and pre-OJ, she rolled up her sleeves and went to work, her arm up to her elbow inside my bird's carcass. It wasn't a pretty sight, but she managed to extract all the important bits, stuff back in other important bits, and then sew that bird back up - but not before separating its skin from it's body and slathering the sucker in an herb butter rub. I'm telling you, TGFS, b/c otherwise we would have been ordering from Boston Market. No joke.


So on our turkey day, we gave thanks for lowering gas prices. We gave thanks for Obama (most of us, at least). We gave thanks for cauliflower soup. We gave thanks for things like goat cheese. And good wine. And coffee spiked with Baileys. But mostly, we gave thanks for each other - b/c we're extremely f-ing lucky to have such a cool family. Happy happy everyone.

Happy Thanksgiving

Who knew?

Who knew Thanksgiving was so much damn work? Fo' real. It's like planning a wedding, but at your own house. With turkey, which you'd never serve at your wedding. And cranberry sauce, which I'm pretty sure you wouldn't serve either. But seriously. It's like a LOT of work. 18 peeps are showing up at my house in a few days expecting to be fed, gotten drunk, and leave sated. 

I'm glad I'm resourceful and smart. B/c otherwise I would have completely forgotten about things like...

• freezer Ziploc bags. For easy clean up, throw it in a Ziploc. When in doubt, throw it a Ziploc.
• Tupperwares, so all my guests can take home some leftovers - but I got small tupperwares, bc they aren't allowed to take home too much...H-ette and I plan on living off the turkey for 3 weeks or so.  
• Napkin rings, b/c everyone needs a ring for their napkin. What would we do without them? They serve such purpose.
  
• Unscented candles. I'll be damned if I don't own 400 candles, and all of them are scented. And no one likes to smell patchouli and jasmine as they're sucking on a turkey bone.
• Extra TP and a few plungers for good measure. 18 people. 15 courses. It's inevitable. Everybody poops.
• Screw top wine. By the 5th bottle, the Rabbit becomes more like a Rubik's cube. Twist tops are much better.
• Celery and apples. B/c apparently you're supposed to stuff the bird's hole with these such things, to release "aromas." Because everyone knows celery has a pretty serious aroma.
• When buying a 31 lb turkey, it's probably a smart thing to ensure you have a pan to fit such a monstrosity. And maybe hire someone to carry it out to the car for you. That sucker's heavy.
• H-ette. Make sure you have one of these around. They are good for numerous things, including but not limited to: plumbing issues, electrical problems, turkey juice leaks (all over the trunk of your big rig), liquor runs, coat check, DJ, host, and pretty much Best in Show. ; )

I kid...family, I can't WAIT for you all to show up at my doorstep in a few short days. I promise it will be a fun day, and somewhere in the midst of it all, we'll give thanks for something, I'm sure. What, I don't know yet. But let's hope it's for something like me not screwing up the meal by forgetting to cook the turkey.

I need a McDetox

McDonalds has a strange hold on me.
Our new apartment is a block away from a McD's
I think the proximity to fried goodness is getting to my brain
I think about it
Romantically
I think about what it would be like to just pop in
Just for fries
Maybe a nugget or two
Most days I can fight the urge, but then I'm flipping through a magazine and there it is
McDonald's ad is on the page
Fries
A hot fudge sundae
So inexpensive, so fast, so filling, so tasty
It's calling to me
And I think, I was good today, I had a salad for lunch, it's ok
But my brain prevails, too many calories, processed meat byproduct
Then the only non-gay guy in my office comes strolling in with a big 'ole sack of greasy McD's lunch
No fair
Tonight I couldn't fight it anymore
Nuggets, sweat & sour sauce, fries
So good
New nuggets, no gross hard texture pieces like the old school nugs
Fries, half crispy, half soggy - perfect proportion of both
Salty
Food coma
Feel ill
Fat bride
Belly hurts
Curled up
on coach
McDonald's why do you hurt me when I love you so

I hate the dentist

I actually like my dentist, she's sweet and all, but I really hate the experience. I just don't understand the tools they use. What's with the pick and the ax. These are sensitive body parts, gums are all gummy, if you hack at them with a sharp pick - it hurts, a lot. And we've made advancements in basically every other medical profession. Why can't they come up with some sort of light laser that blasts the tarter off? So now my mouth hurts, a lot. And it's hard for me to talk, which as you know, is not easy for me.

Thanks-Doing

That's what I think it should be called - because there's so much to f-ing do to get ready for such a shindig. It's unbelievable, really. Here's a brief look into my mind the last couple of days as I run through my mental checklists for next week:

What's the menu going to be....should I stick to the traditional or put my Dorothy Draper stamp on things? I love the idea of hosting. I love the idea of having some special treats that people remember long after they've driven home, half drunk. But what? Papa-in-law-ette is a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Mother-in-law-ette is workin' a crazy diet which she is sticking to her guns on (and for good reason - she's lost a ton of weight...good job, MIL-ette!), H-ette won't eat mushrooms, some one's a vegan...someone is allergic to nuts...oh for crying out loud. This basically leaves me with baby carrots. That's what we're eating.

I don't own a single dining room chair. I have a kick ass dining table that seats like 16, but nowhere for the guestettes to rest their laurels. Oh, and I have a guest whose name is Laurel. She won't have anywhere to sit either. Shit. Rent chairs...don't forget. 

That fancy dining room table that has never been used? I guess I need something to protect the top, like a table pad. Jeez they're expensive. Louis Vuitton Speedy bag...table pad...it's a tough call. Shit. I should protect the table. I guess that means I need a friggin tablecloth. F*$*(@)k. 

I think I'll have a glass of wine to help me through this list...oh, that reminds me. We need alcohol. Lots of it. 14 drunks coming over here for dinner...I better not get all teetotaler on them. Half a case of wine? A bottle of vodka? Better get a few different kinds of liquor. We're gonna need it if all I'm feeding my guests is carrots..

What size turkey does one get for 14 guests? Do I just show up the day before Thanksgiving and get a fresh one from the grocery store? Am I supposed to order the thing? I certainly wouldn't want to mess THAT up...sheesh. Gotta figure that out.

Ette1, I hope you are still planning on joining. I am going to need the moral support, and I'm going to need your kick ass sense of humor to distract people when I mess up all of the above.

Complaint round up

Having a cranky day so lots of stuff is bothering me.

I won’t go into great detail, but here’s a listing:

• What’s with Beyonce calling herself Sasha Fierce?! Isn’t Beyonce a dumb enough name on its own? Also, putting Fierce in your name, automatically makes you not fierce. And why are we allowing her to just have an alter-ego? What does that even mean?

• How about Paris hooking up with her ex Starvos whats-his-face. I was so getting sick of her being in a happy relationship – that’s not paris, paris is a skanky ho that always gets herself in trouble and is good for us to make fun of. I will look forward to her upcoming breakup news.

• The puppies got a bigger bed, but they still just sleep all day.

• Do you ever wonder why we keep hearing about all these legit magazines closing and cutting tons of staff, but titles like “Big Booty Babes” continue to strive? Strange right, who’s subscribing to those?

• I’m having my performance review tomorrow and although I usually always get straight A’s (or the office equivalent) I feel like this time might be different. Through no fault of my own. My stupid clients are mean and stupid, but that’s not my fault, I shouldn’t be penalized.
  

• I'm trying to insure my ring, but no one will cover the thing without a full policy for the apartment, doubling the cost. But I don't want to pay for insurance for my sublet. I have a doorman so nothing is going to be stolen and anyway if someone broke in then my dog would bark them to death. Annoying.
  

For the record

Here are my official "race" results:

Overall place: 5521
Gender place: 2900
Finish time: 50:29
Pace mile: 12:37

There were 5981 total runners, 3239 of them were women.
What that means is that I beat 460 people, 339 of them were women.
So I'm faster than about 121 guys of all ages and sizes and 339 women of all ages and sizes.
My sister beat me by 1 second - bitch.

You may not be impressed with my standings, but I freaking am. I didn't practice at all, and I ate donuts before the race.

I ran my first race today

And by ran, I mean lightly jogged in between extended bouts of moderately quick walking.  Obviously running is not my thing.  My body is built more for sports like say, dancing like Jlo or hula hopping.  And I was so obviously the thing that didn't belong there.  I was surrounded by tight asses in tight running shorts that leave nothing to the imagination.  Also all the runners were basically wearing nothing, essentially tank tops and shorts that barely cover their ass.  I was in eight layers of clothing.  It was 40 freaking degrees with wind gusts that made me stand and cry.  I was with bro-in-law who is the one who made me do this thing along with sisette - for whom this was a regular weekend workout and my bestie who does 4 miles on her off training days.  That's right I said it was just 4 miles and I'm not embarrassed - 4 miles sucks balls.  You know what's better than running for 4 miles - just about anything you can do on a sunday: brunch, a matinee, shopping, relaxing, chillaxing.  So bro-in-law ran backwards in front of me for the first mile to "motivate" me, shouting things like "pick up the pace," "you're slowing down now," "can you breathe?"  Then he got so bored he took off and the ladies stayed behind with me.  At one point they got ahead a bit and I noticed they weren't really running like I was, they were basically bobbing up and down while fast-walking.  They were fake-running for my benefit, my pace was so pathetic they couldn't even run that slow - so they had to pretend.  Giant people were passing me, one guy who had no legs passed me - no joke.  The whole time I was doing it I was thinking to myself, "I hate this, this is stupid, I could stop now, I could stop and feel just fine, I could get in a cab and go home, I could take a bath, and eat cookies, and look at my new ring." But Pants was waiting for me at the finish and the girls were going slow for my benefit so I had to stay in it, and I quietly hated them all for it.  A few times I said, "go ahead and I'll catch up with you guys."  But those bitches knew better, if they went fast, I went home.  So they stayed there like my two skinny little jogging bodyguards.  At about a 1/2 mile left, just as I'm really about to quit this thing, I see bro-in-law heading the wrong way towards us.  He had finished, ate a bagel and had a cup of coffee, probably balanced his checkbook, and then started the race backwards to find us.  Then there was more motivational coaching.  I finally get my ass over the finish line, at just over 50 minutes.  The winner finished in 19.  At the end they are all like, don't you feel good, aren't you proud.  The answer is no, my knees hurt, I'm cold, and running is stupid.  I got home, soaked in a tub, baked cookies and promptly feel asleep on the couch - like you are supposed to do on a Sunday.  I shan't be running again.  

I recommend you elope

When you are planning a wedding, especially a destination wedding, you have to rely on recommendations from strangers. A bride who came before you who loved her photographer, her makeup artist, etc. I connected with one such bride who said her hair stylist was amazing - apparently she does "all the celebrities in puerto rico." I took a look at her site. Below is one of the examples of her work.

Sisette and Ette2, start taking some lessons, because if this is the best of what they offer in PR, then you two are doing my hair!

Are you watching this live puppy feed? It's like crack - without ending up looking like Whitney

Check it out, it's a live feed of puppies.  That's it, it's puppies sleeping.  Puppies licking themselves, puppies shifting position, puppies yawning, puppies cuddling, but mostly puppies sleeping - and it's the cutest freaking thing I've ever seen.  And I can't take my eyes off of them.  

Here's what my day was like today:

9:30 get to work

9:45 enjoy breakfast - cheesy egg sammy

10:15 check out cnn, read personal emails

10:45 read a couple work emails

11:00 watch puppies sleep

12:00 take a work-related phone call

12:03 research wedding venues

12:55 watch puppies

2:30 meeting

3:30 watch puppies, aw one just rolled over 

4:00 research wedding dresses

5:00 watch puppies, ooh one got up

5:45 write work email

6:00 leave for shrink appointment, talk about engagement

A week ago it would have melted my cold, hard heart, but obviously since I am now Mrs. Pants to-be, I'm all about the love and adorable displays of affection.  In fact I can't even rely on my old cynical, miserable, normal crankiness to complain about stuff for the blog.  So sorry to tell you, for a while it's going to be about puppies and rainbows and wedding shit.  And if you don't like it, then you can suck it, cause I'm happy!

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If the economy doesn't turn around...

I may have to consider a new job at Hooters. Seriously. I had a bad day today, and when one has a bad day in corporate America, redemption has always been found in the Job Search. You know, logging on at work (just because you are feeling vengeful and daring) to the mediabistro's and careerbuilder.com's of the Internets and seeing just how many opportunities lie elsewhere - personally, it's always made me feel like I have options - and when you have a particularly sucky day, and you feel like you want to "Office Space" your computer as well as your boss, I like to log on and daydream about where I would be more appreciated, and certainly compensated better.

But the economy is in the shitter. And what that means is, when I type in "copywriter" to the search field, I get about 3 lonely job listings - 2 of which are in Pharma industry and who the hell wants to write about pharmaceuticals...I'd rather test them out. (ooh, maybe the copywriter's have to try all the drugs before they write about them...maybe I should reconsider.) Anyway, point is, the posts are basically the three loser jobs no one wants anymore, and they all were posted over 30 days ago, because anyone who's anyone knows that pretty much everyone is in a hiring freeze...so technically, those three jobs are more like ZERO.

So basically, I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to remain a slave to home fashion and take shit from people who don't know half as much as I do. I will continue to visit the awful cafe every day, the one that stops serving breakfast and coffee at 9:30am. (um, seriously?? I don't even get to work until then.)

Anyway, if anyone wants to hire me, I'm entertaining all offers. I can make shitty things sound really fabulous, and make boring things sound really really fun. I would also entertain unique job offers, because who am I to discriminate? Ette1 could even hire me as her wedding planner. I'd rock that...so let me know if you're interested...I'm totally worth the high price tag.

Goin' to the Chapel Or shul Or Beachfront Chuppah

It's official - Ette1 is engaged!!!!! In what can only amount to the best weekend ever, Pants proposed to 1 in Union Square, the location of their first meeting (of course, after their first meeting decades ago as little Philly kiddies, but that's for another post). I'll let her do the honors and fill our inquiring readerettes in on the details...the point is the world is a brighter place today, sparkly and such - partially due to the new bling Ette1 is rockin' on her ring finger, and the rest due to the pearly whites she will be flashing from now on with that big smile she just won't be able to rid herself of. It's Ette1's world this week, and we're all just living in it.

Mazel Tov to my favorite couple. No one deserves the happiness quite like you guys do. I can't WAIT for the big day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

A Great Miracle Happened Here

It happened

It finally arrived

I can’t believe it

4 full years and 80 days later (minus about 6 months apart)

The clouds parted

And g-d shone down upon me (is shone a word?)

And the angels sang

And someone must have slipped Pants a roofie

Because

He Proposed

I’m ENGAGED

I’m freaking engaged.

The love of my life got down on a knee and asked me to marry him

And he showed me a ring

A bad-ass, big, awesome diamond ring (that makes my fat, stubby fingers look little)

I am so happy

And now, watch out.

If you think you've ever known a "difficult" bride - well you ain't seen nothing yet.

Pants has unleashed my unholy brand of "getting my way" and now it's not just him and me - it's for all of you to deal with as I plan my big day.

Yay!