Wear a helmet...

During my morning snooze-fest this am, I found it difficult to drift off back into dreamland – I was having a lovely dream about hosting a party at my parents house, my grandparents who had passed were there and everyone was dressed up all pretty and I was greeting everyone at the door and I smelled great! And I wanted to go back and spend some time there, but the roar of helicopters above kept me away. Then came the sirens and it was eerily familiar to 9/11. But as far as we know terrorists aren’t behind giant crane collapses – just irresponsible construction crews. Another huge crane took a tumble on 91^st street about five blocks north of my apt. Of course this was like the only night Pants didn’t stay with my so little Bam and I were alone and unprotected – as if he could save us from falling debris – but still you want your loved ones close when there’s danger near by – still haven’t heard from my sister who seems not to care about my life at all.

Anyway of course I lived, I was nowhere near the incident but it raises concerns none-the-less. This is the second crane accident in a couple months and these things are all over the freaking place uptown. So now while walking down the street in addition to looking out for terrorists, trying to dodge madman cab drivers, avoid out-of-control bike messengers and delivery guys, not stepping on dog poop, ignoring homeless beggars and trying to not make eye contact with crazy people, I have to keep an eye on the sky for teetering cranes. Oy, maybe I’ll move to Nebraska – nothing happens there right?

Kids, don't do drugs

Or at least don't get caught...

This dude definitely rode the short bus to school

Video Game Console Me

So as I mentioned a few weeks ago, I was conned into agreeing to the acquisition of a new PS3 system out of what is otherwise known as male trickery. I have no one to blame but myself, I know, and I was willing to accept the truth and consequences by looking on the bright side of this new addition to the family - what we in the Ette2 family like to call 'quiet time.' I come from a long line of hermits who like to spend time in solitude, not being bothered or cajoled, tickled or turned on. My bro, my dad, my dad's dad...I am the first female with this gene and damnit I plan on taking advantage.

So back to this evening, H-ette decided we should have our white trash Jewtopia dinner...for those of you who haven't dined on this delicacy with us, it's Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper and Challah. And Budweiser. So we had our nice romantical dinner in front of the TV watching Top Chef because that's what we do - we don't have kids yet, we can eat wherever the hell we want and we don't have to set any standard or rules so don't go judging me because I eat crap in front of the television while watching chefs cook really complex meals for a shot at fame. I don't want to be famous, I just want to eat Hamburger Helper.

Anyway, back to this PS3 crap. So I assumed this stupid gaming system would at least buy me some me-time. But see, the thing is - he only wants to play it when I am feeling needy and loving and want attention. When I'd prefer to do my crossword, watch stupid TV or just poo in private, H-ette is always in my mug, like the PS3 isn't even in the room. What's up with that? Shouldn't I have some say in when he gets to play this thing? Like can't I tell him when he can't play (the day after my period, when I am feeling snuggly, when I am feeling really skinny and cute or having a good hair day) and when he must go play? (Bloated days, PMS time, short-fuse moments.)

It's just not right. I think this calls for an equa-purchase. Ebay, here I come...

Alright, alright - Vegas Finale

Well me made it through night one in Sin City, nary a new tattoo in sight, no extra wedding ring, no third person in our bed and our dignity fully intact. Let's get this show on the road. First up is a massage at Canyon Ranch Spa for yours truly, from the in-law-ettes who are so thoughtful it kills me. What a great way to spend the afternoon. It was a total treat! Thanks, parentettes for making my day warm and fuzzy and pretty much the best thing ever.

My masseuse told me to drink lots of water though. Doesn't he know better? Who the hell drinks water in Vegas??

That night, H-ette took me for a special romantical dinner at Charlie Palmer Steak...what a delish experience that was, replete with cucumber martinis and a surprise gelato dessert with a candle all all aglow. He is the Glove of my Life. H-ette, not Charlie Palmer.

Then it was off to Cirque de Soleil's Zumanity. This show takes place in New York, New York. Neither of us having been to this particular casino, we were excited at the prospect of something new. It will be just like home, we thought! Oy. Not. So. Much.

NY NY Casino is basically where the fattest Americans go to die. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it. Not only did nothing about this place resemble NYC (cobblestone streets and outdoor bars sounds a little more New Orleans, thank you - and there is no such thing as Christopher St without the gay bondage stores. Sorry.) So whatev, we're here, the show is in an hour, let's W.T. it up. We go to a bar, order a round of drinks and just sit back and people watch. We saw some sights from those bar stools. I won't even get into it, there might be kids reading this thing. Let's just say this - unless you weigh in at over two bucks and fifty cents, and your main food group consists of cheese, you probably won't enjoy your stay here. Seek accommodations elsewhere.

Thus, the show must go on...which it did, and it was as raunchy and overt and sexy and erotic as they say it is. Burlesque in the Big Top, so to speak. It was fabulous, we had a hell of a time, and saw contortionists do things with their bodies that give them their own tab on certain porn sites. Don't act like you don't know about these kinds of things.

After the show we immediately headed back to our comfort zone (Mandalay Bay! Four Seasons! Give me luxe and give it to me now!) and proceeded to play to our hearts content - or until we couldn't imagine having one more drink and the ciggy smoke was starting to make us feel weak. Then it was Bedtime for Frances and Francine in our clean, uppity hotel room, thank you very much.

And there you have it. Final day was spent poolside, whetting our whistles with pina coladas and letting the Four Season's pool boy shpritz our faces with Evian spray. Swear. This is why this place rocks. Oh, and they come around with all sorts of free treats like creamsicles and orange slices while you bake. Love it.

And then it was home for the Lord and Lady. I'll save my red-eye kvetch for another day...

It's my own fault...

Last night in an effort to get some shut eye and avoid doin it, I made some innocent comment to Pants about waking up early for some action. Of course I didn’t mean it, I don’t get up early for anything. Maybe if Louboutins were going on a one-time 6 a.m. 80% off sale I’d consider it, but even then the sale would have to be like in my basement because otherwise the schlep isn’t worth it that early in the day. It’s not that I don’t love Pants and I think he’s hot and all, it’s just that a girl needs her rest. Well a girl needs to watch “Top Chef” and “The Real World” and then rest. Oh and a girl showers at night… per my earlier comment, I don’t enjoy getting up early so I prepare as much as I possibly can the night before so I’m ready to just pop up and go to work. I even lay out my clothes! And once you are all sparkly clean you don’t want to get sweaty and hot and get your hair frizzed before bed. On a side note, I don’t understand people who wait to shower in the am, how can you get into your bed with all the grime and ickiness from the city all crusted up on you and then lay in your sheets all night like that. It’s freaking gross and that’s where those bed bugs come from I think. Anyway, I digress. So imagine my dismay this am, when a frisky Pants rolls over and throws his arm around my waist at 6:45. Oh no, not having that at all. So I shift and drift off back into dreamland. I’m awoken again at 7, this time he’s rubbing my stomach, I hate that. Of all the places on me to rub – feet, back… why stomach?! It has no pleasure value and just makes me feel fat, and the idea of having to suck in your gut that early in the day is nauseating. The shift doesn’t work this time so I take his hand and remove it. Now of course he’s pissed and turns over in a not nice way. So I lay awake trying to avoid the awful glare of sunshine that comes beaming through my windows directly into my eyeballs pumping me full of UV radiation, thinking why the hell don’t I buy better shades, and wondering what to do to get Pants not to be upset. I fall back asleep. Alarm goes off for my normal morning snooze fest (at least three or four snoozes in 9 minute intervals, till about 8:15 – at which time I jump up totally running late, brush my teeth, apply my face, put on clothes and run out the door) and now Pants officially hates me. I’ll have to think of a way to make it up to him. And I have to go to the gym to work on this stomach thing.

Sis-ette has a future in film, fo sho

Her first cinematic debut as a director, producer and creative genius. We got the preview while out in the AZ. Big ups, 'lil sis.

Vague Ass baby! Part 3

So day three and H-ette and I hop in our rental (gas prices be damned!) and head off to Sin City. We pass through the Hoover Dam on the way, and let me just tell you - if there is any anti-climax worse than that stupid Dam, I have yet to experience it. What a bunch of tourist hullabaloo. It's basically a big concrete wall. If they wanted me to be interested in it they should have at least painted the sucker pink or something. Make it at least aesthetically decent. But no. Beige concrete and a lot of it. And because there's one lane each direction to Vegas, you have no choice but to drive through this monstrosity. And it took over an hour to get through about 1 mile, because of these stupid Idiotettes pushing their kids in strollers across the street to get a closer look. It's water, people! It's a dam! It's not an amusement park, and nothing they sell in the gift shop can rival a pair of Mickey ears or one of those big foam fingers even. So stop trying to trick your kids with these lame Clark Griswald vacations and take your kids somewhere fun - like Tijuana!

We were about 2 shakes of a lamb's fume away from running out of gas as we sat there in the bull crap traffic. H-ette was not happy about it as he had tried to gauge exactly how much fuel to put into the tank to ensure arrival into Sin City on a completely empty tank, so as to not accrue fuel charges. But he was about 20 miles short. Anyone looking for a million dollar idea, put a gas station a mile south of that damn dam. You will be a gazillionaire. There wasn't one for 60 miles.

Sin City, day 1. We get to the Four Seasons (yeah, H-ette and I do it up right) and lo and behold, our room is not ready. It's close to 5 pm, two full hours after check-in time and no go. So what does the lovely lady at the desk do? Rather than tell us 'sorry, you're SOL, it will be ready when it's ready,' she sends us over to the hotel lounge, calls the maitre'd informing of our arrival, and we are seated and offered free drinks and apps on the house. Reason #1 why Four Seasons rocks. They take care of their mistakes discreetly and making guests happy with $60 worth of drinks and a plate of brie is priceless. At least for some cheap dates like H-ette and me. We milked that freebie for about an hour.

That night we headed out to see Dane Cook perform. He was the raunchiest I've ever heard him, and we loved every second of it. Boobs, butt and even BJ's. After laughing our faces off we headed off for some gambling enjoyment, of which there was plenty. H-ette won $1000 at the roulette table in about 30 seconds! It was sure to be our lucky vacay!!

Who dresses her?

Every time I see this woman I cringe at what she's wearing. She NEVER looks right. I want her stylist to be outted, and if she's dressing her freaking self then someone needs to step in. She looks like an ass. Nuf said.

Good Luck Pants!

Ha ha ha

And you thought I'd post it all at once. That's what anticipation is all about, readerettes. Part 3, Vegas style coming tomorrow. Stay tuned...

What Happens in Vague Ass, Part Deux (I know we aren't in Vegas yet, bear with me)

So day 2 in AZ pretty much consisted of naps and playing with the kiddies. And then in the evening, h-ette and I headed off to dinner with our favorite gay couple, Chris and Bryan. I was going to use the term Gayettes, but I really truly prefer "the gays" in an homage to Kathy G and I couldn't bring myself to replace with a new moniker. Sorry boyz...

Dinner was fab. U. lous. Elements at the Sanctuary on Camelback, and it was a very tasty treat indeed. Although Chris almost cried bloody tears when he found out his cantaloupe martini was no longer available b/c of distributor issues (blame G.W. - it probably has to do with gas prices, like everything else) so he had to settle on something less fabulous. We all enjoyed, and then the boys surprised us by picking up the tab. What gents!

Post dinner we returned to their abode for some after-dinner treats and Guitar Hero. We all pretty much suck but when you are drunk, who really cares if you hit the notes. The crowd booing is more fun anyway. I was concentrating so hard at one point that I hadn't blinked through like 3/4's of the song and my contact literally popped right out of my eye, like it had been flicked out. That game is crazy.

The doggies even got special haircuts just for the occasion.

Day Two - Great Success! Thanks for letting us crash post-nightcap in your guest suite, boys!

What Happens in Vague Ass...Part 1

I'm back, bitches. It's been a long and fruitful weekend, I'm happy to report, and I look forward to sharing it with you readerettes. I think I will break this up into intervals so as not to overwhelm any of you with my nail-biting experiences, so bear with me.

The JetsEttes (husbandette and myself) headed off to Phoenix last Thursday for lil' sis-in-laws high school graduation. Yes, husbandette has a sister half his age, 'tis true. Either that or he's been lying to me about his age all this time...

So back to AZ. We arrive to some cold, breezy and rainy weather. The AZettes are dismayed at this bizarre weather, as are we - a couple of NYers ready for some fun in the sun. Sis-ettes graduation is taking place in an outdoor stadium, and forecast ain't looking good. Neither are my clothing options packed tidily in my rolly-case. Hmph.

We meet Stanley, the newest addition to the family. He arrived three weeks premature, and was just shy of three weeks when we were there. We were all baffled by the fact that this little man (who had the most insane facial expressions and hand gestures) was actually still supposed to be in Cousin Rhea's belly. This of course made Stanley all the more fascinating to us. His sister Stella, also fascinating, has made my top 5 list of favorite people, for sure. She's about 30 pounds of huggable, tickleable goodness and I can't get enough of her and her gorgeous smile. You Kowitz's have some good genes.

Graduation went well - meaning, she graduated, woohoo! Albeit from a senior class of 750, in the freezing, windy cold of an AZ stadium in freak-weather, 2 hours goes by like jail time. Except for that valedictorian's speech. Something insightful about how in school you are taught things and then tested, and in life you are tested and thus taught a lesson. Deep thoughts, man. Pass that joint...



That, my friends, is the end of day 1. A little late night suburban Phoenix Cheesecake Factory pit stop and tuck me in to bed - I'm pooped. And I have to poop.

And just for fun...

I got tired of seeing that zit - mine is so not that bad. This is much cuter.

Zits

I don’t think we’ve done zits justice on this site to date, and yet they are one of the most annoying facts of life. They are not usually an issue for me (anymore) because I’m on bad-ass birth control that helps keep them in check – dual benefit: not getting knocked up and not getting breakouts – equally important. I also take very good care of my skin, no matter how drunk, tired, sick or drugged I am, I get my ass up and wash my face before bed – no exceptions – ever. I’ll admit back in my college days when you could never be sure what time of day or night a friendly face or booty call might pop by, I kept the eyeliner and blush on longer than was beneficial for my face, but I’ve learned my lesson and now vanity is nothing next to clear skin. Sorry Pants, this is me without makeup, deal with it. So imagine my dismay when a big ole honker popped up by my mouth on Sunday, not a little nothing around the hairline or a white head by your nose – a big old throbbing beast right on the side of my mouth where the two lips meet in the corner. Unfortunate placement because you can’t it under a comb-over or color it in and pretend it’s a Crawford-esc mole. Also unfortunate cause it looks like you have a giant case of herpes of the mouth. Luckily I guess, it’s just a zit and will go away eventually, but it’s one of those deep rooted bad boys that hurts when I open too wide, preventing me from properly enjoying a giant ice cream cone this weekend. And it’s so not ready to be popped, even though I tried to hasten the process last night and made a bloody, pussy mess that crusted up over night and now looks like I have some sort of flesh eating bacteria issue on my face. Of course I have to be in work, can’t exactly call out because of a big zit and all my good hair day confidence gets flushed down the toilet with this monstrosity on my mouth. I’m sitting here applying benzoyl peroxide by the bottle full and praying to the god of Clearasil that I get my face back in working order before the weekend. So I’m keeping a low profile this week until my little friend retreats, and just in case I’m wearing a low cut blouse so people can concentrate on other more attractive mounds on my body today.

Sometimes we can't do better than what's already been printed...

Man admits having sex with 1,000 cars

Last updated: 1:23 PM BST 21/05/2008

A man who claims to have had sex with 1,000 cars has defended his "romantic" feelings towards vehicles.

Edward Smith, who lives with his current "girlfriend" – a white Volkswagen Beetle named Vanilla, insisted that he was not "sick" and had no desire to change his ways.

"I appreciate beauty and I go a little bit beyond appreciating the beauty of a car only to the point of what I feel is an expression of love," he said.

"Maybe I'm a little bit off the wall but when I see movies like Herbie and Knight Rider, where cars become loveable, huggable characters it's just wonderful.

"I'm a romantic. I write poetry about cars, I sing to them and talk to them just like a girlfriend. I know what's in my heart and I have no desire to change."

He added: "I'm not sick and I don't want to hurt anyone, cars are just my preference."

Mr Smith, 57, first had sex with a car at the age of 15, and claims he has never been attracted to women or men.

But his wandering eye has spread beyond cars to other vehicles. He says that his most intense sexual experience was "making love" to the helicopter from 1980s TV hit Airwolf.

As well as Vanilla, he regularly spends time with his other vehicles – a 1973 Opal GT, named Cinnamon, and 1993 Ford Ranger Splash, named Ginger.

Before Vanilla, he had a five-year relationship with Victoria, a 1969 VW Beetle he bought from a family of Jehovah's Witnesses.

But he confesses that many of the cars he has had sex with have belonged to strangers or car showrooms.

His last relationship with a woman was 12 years ago - and he could not bring himself to consummate it, although he did have sex with girls in his younger days.

Mr Smith, from Washington state in the US, kept quiet about his secret fetish for years, but agreed to be interviewed as part of a channel Five documentary into “mechaphilia”. He is shown meeting other enthusiasts at a rally in California

Talking about how his unusual passion developed, Mr Smith said: "It's something that grew as a part of me when I was a kid and I could not shake it.

"I just loved cute cars right from the beginning, but over the years it got stronger once I got into my teenage years and was my first having sexual urges.

"When I turned 13 and the famous Corvette Stingray came about, that car was pure sex and just an incredible machine. I wanted it.

"I didn't fully understand it myself except that I know I'm not hurting anyone and I do not intend to."

He added: "There are moments way out in the middle of nowhere when I see a little car parked and I swear it needs loving.

"There have been certain cars that attracted me and I would wait until night time, creep up to them and just hug and kiss them.

"As far as women go, they never really interested me much. And I'm not gay.”

Mr Smith is now part of a global community of more than 500 “car lovers” brought together by internet forums.

Movie kvetches

Old Indy

New Indy

So Pants made me go see the new Indiana Jones. I have to admit I’ve never seen the other Jones movies, maybe I saw like part of one one time but I don’t really remember it, so there were a couple gafaws around me when they were referencing old plot points that I didn’t quite get - but that probably won’t be a problem for most people – unless you are under 30 (like me, sorry 2) in which case you were probably too young to see the movies when they first came out. Twenty years for a sequel seems a bit long, thank goodness the SATC girls didn’t wait that long, I can’t imagine I’d be interested in hearing about vaginas and cosmos when I’m 49 – at that point I’ll be more into vitamins and colonics. So basically there are a lot of chase scenes, and Indy gets out of trouble a lot. That Shia kid is cute and Cate Blanchett is awesome as some sort of KGB head. I don’t watch a lot of boy movies, but I have a hard time accepting the fact that they survive falling down three, 20-story waterfalls without a scratch and without losing his hat and that they can swing on vines like Tarzan. Also I felt bad for Indy the whole time cause he’s like 95-years-old in this movie and it just all seems like a lot of effort for him.

So there you have it, it was mildly entertaining and charming but not awesome.

I have a much funnier more interesting post about meddling mother’s in law but I’ve been asked not to repeat the story and since I’m well-known for my secret keeping abilities, I won’t share. So you know who you are - keeping the real entertainment from the people – I hope you feel good about yourself.

Is this real?

I don't think so. Bitches need their hair to feel hot. This is for a movie there's no way she's bad-ass enough to shave it.

OK, since the last post wasn't funny, this one kind of is...

(From msnbc)

Olsen twins’ Starbucks scandal
De facto Starbucks spokes-twins Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen might have a scandal on their hands. A former barista from the Olsen’s oft-frequented Starbucks in New York’s West Village allegedly used to swap out skim milk for the full-fat variety when the girls came by for their caffeine fix, reports OK! magazine.

The twins regularly ordered Grande nonfat lattes, but according to the Starbucks snitch, “the barista thought the Olsens were too thin, so whenever they ordered their usual drink, he would replace the skim milk with full-fat,” the source told the magazine.

The Olsen’s rep responded to the latte lunacy saying, “This is ridiculous.” Yes, it is, but one fellow latte-lover close to the Olsens (who requested anonymity) said that she sympathizes with the twins — to an extent. “It’s also my worst nightmare — that and getting a huge diet fountain soda that is mistakenly regular Coke — but I can def(initely) taste the difference, so it’s their own fault if they fell victim.”


Doesn't she kind of look like a skinny little Axl Rose here?

PSA

OK, here’s a peeve of mine, it’s not funny, but it’s important so I have to get it out. Two major natural disasters occurred in the last several weeks and no one is talking about it. Something like 100,000 people could have been killed in Myanmar from the cyclone and in China they are saying almost 42,000 people were killed in the earthquake. We’re still talking about freaking Katrina and that left less than 3,000 dead. Now all of these deaths are upsetting obviously here or abroad, but I don’t know why no one is making a bigger deal out of this news. I was out of the country when Katrina hit and trust me it was the only thing being reported internationally for weeks. Where are the PSAs, the calls for aid, the celebrity charity balls and telethons for these Asian disasters? Where is the extreme home makeover team – send them to China to help rebuild some of those houses. Ok, I get that this kind of political message is so not what this blog is about, but I couldn’t help myself. Go to the link below to donate to the International Red Cross and maybe order Thai food tonight to show your support for the region.

http://www.icrc.org/web/eng/siteeng0.nsf/iwpList2/Help_the_ICRC?OpenDocument

30 Licks - That's What it Takes

So Ette1 provided you readerettes (who were'nt present for the festivities) with a rundown of what went down on the birthday of yours truly. For truth and consequence purposes, I'd like to clarify on a few mis-truths (or in 1's case, little fibettes).

1) Korova Milk Bar is the actual Korova from the East Village. It's true. It's not an impostor as 1 tried to imply. However, husbandette and I aren't the only brainiettes out there who have figured out that real estate and that thing they call good 'ole quality-of-life exists north of the border, and thus the cool East Village rock-n-roll cats who opened Korova decades ago moved to White Plains to live a sweeter life with a "yard" and decided the commute back to the dredges of alphabet city were just not worth it, thus they picked up their entire operation and moved it due north. The crowd, music and quality of beverage however I can not attest to. But don't let 1 fool you, she was shakin' her booty with the best of 'em.

2) I didn't show my panties. I wouldn't do that - those are FHEO (for husband's eyes only) and I don't think it's very ladylike and all that.

3) Ice cream? What ice cream? I missed that. I must have been busy pulling my dress back down..

4) Playstation is the root of all evil. At least it was until my amazing, smart, wonderful brother's gift arrived. Basically, I just got a contract offer from a record label - for mah GUITAR HERO SKILLZZZZ.....so thanks bro. You rock. No, actually, I rock...so thanks.

Bottom line, my birthday rocked the charts, my friends are wunnnnderful, my husband is handsome and spectacular and a great surpriser of specialness. And being (gulp) 30 ain't so bad. In fact, today was testament to the fact that things are only looking up from here...

Are you a nerd?

If you are reading this then you probably are, I know most of you. Can't speak for 2's side but if you are friend/family of 1 then I know you and I know you are in fact a nerd. Sissette - don't deny it, she still sticks her A+ papers on the fridge and she's 32. Lawyerette - come on all lawyers are nerds, sorry Husbandette but it's true. Brette - total nerd. Pants, you think you are not a nerd but you watch NY1 all day and love Scrabble - that's nerdy. I'm a nerd too I guess, I mean I'm not cool and I guess the opposite is nerd so it's fine, let's embrace it. The reason I bring it up is because if you are a nerd like me, you might enjoy taking a grammar quiz. King Nerd Pants showed me this and now I'm obsessed.

Check out this site... there are bunch of grammar tests, the below is the one I've been doing. I think my highest score was a 90%, which is awesome because I suck majorly at grammar and spelling obviously. See if you can do better, report your scores in the comments section. You know you have time for this, you are all nerds so it's not like you have a hot date tonight or anything!


http://www.newsroom101.com/NR_exercises/AP1/

AP-All -- 20 random questions from all the AP quizzes
See the sample test below, hard right?! OK, well actually this one is easy, but the rest are hard. See for yourself.




1.
If a negotiator hears the evidence, then hands down a decision, that person is:
1. ? a mediator
2. ? an arbitrator
2.
Indicate the correct form in AP Style:
1. ? men's wear
2. ? menswear
3.
Which is correct according to AP Style?
1. ? baby-boomer
2. ? baby boomer
3. ? Baby-Boomer
4. ? Baby Boomer
4.
One meter is approximately
1. ? 0.54 yard
2. ? 39.5 inches
3. ? 1,760 grams
4. ? 3.54 centimeters
5.
Choose the correct AP spelling:
1. ? judgement
2. ? judgment
6.
The cappuccino costs nearly ________.
1. ? 6 dollars
2. ? six dollars
3. ? $6.00
4. ? $6
7.
The accountant _________ her to keep accurate records of her expenses.
1. ? counciled
2. ? counseled
8.
The executive forwarded his many ________ to each of the major _______.
1. ? memorandums, media
2. ? memoranda, media
9.
What is the median of 1, 3, 5, 6 and 30?
1. ? 9
2. ? 12.5
3. ? 5
10.
During football games, members of the ________ can be found at most ______.
1. ? mediums, stadia
2. ? media, stadiums
3. ? mediums, stadiums
4. ? media, stadia
11.
Choose the correct spelling;
1. ? liason
2. ? liaison
12.
As a sailor, he was familiar with ______ terms.
1. ? navel
2. ? naval
13.
In an election 10,000 votes were cast. The winner received 7,000 votes. The other three candidates combined received 3,000. The winner had a majority of __________ votes.
1. ? 4,000
2. ? 3,000
3. ? 7,000
4. ? 20,000
14.
The resolution contained too many _______ to be effective.
1. ? "ifs"
2. ? "if"s
3. ? "if's"
15.
According to family history, his grandmother ran off with a _________ of actors.
1. ? troop
2. ? troupe
16.
About 50 cars each day ______ towed for illegal parking.
1. ? is
2. ? are
17.
There are _______ cups to the pint.
1. ? two
2. ? 16
3. ? eight
4. ? 32
18.
The milk ________ on the table.
1. ? spilt
2. ? spilled
19.
Hitchiking from California, he was stranded for _________ in Nevada.
1. ? awhile
2. ? a while
20.
Her whereabouts _____ still unknown.
1. ? is
2. ? are

Sorry I can't have sex cause I need to go see Sex...

OK, I can't lie, I have SATC fever. It's everywhere, you can't escape those four old bags and I'm dying to see what they are up to. And I don't want to hear guys groaning that it's stupid - don't act like you all aren't about to line up for tickets for Indiana Jones - oh and the Sopranos movie that they are going to make, please you'll be falling all over yourselves to get to fandango the quickest. There is just something about revisiting an old fav that really satisfies you. I'm still waiting and hoping for the day that the Cosby's get together for that reunion special, but that Lisa Bonet - she's too cool for school. So since I work with a bunch of chicks and we're so beauty involved, my boss thought it would be a fun outing to see the movie together and she sprang for tickets. The only thing is - she doesn't want to see it opening night, something about having better plans for a Friday night - whatev, so she's getting tickets for the Monday after the premiere. But with all the buzz, I'm afraid that I'll hear all the movie secrets and surprises and reviews before I get to see it - which will ruin the experience. I can't wait till Monday - so I went and got tickets for opening night - good thing I did it now, because half the shows were already sold out. Who shall I bring you ask? Why Pants of course, and not because I'm dragging him there, it's because he secretly so wants to see it too and was super disappointed that I was going with other people. I mean who is he going to go see it with, he can't call up Marc and be like

Pants: "Yo dude, so like what are you doing this weekend, want to see a movie bro?"

Marc: "Yeah, what about that movie with guns, it's awesome how people get killed, heh heh"

Pants: "Well yeah, I think I saw that one, but what about something else, maybe with hot chicks in it, where we can see tits."

Marc: "Oh yeah dude, I get what you're saying, but we're not sitting together in one of those places."

Pants: "No I was thinking that Sex and The City movie"

Marc: "Are you serious?!"

Pants: "No dude, nah, I'm just just playin, whatev, let's go drink bear and play PS3."


Anyway, Pants, I'm excited you are coming to see my girl movie with me and I won't make fun of you for it. Well I won't make fun anymore after this.

I'm kickin new flayva in ya ear...

Ette 2 hasn’t posted because she’s likely still nursing her wicked weekend hangover, so I’ll do the honors of filling you in on her 30^th birthday celebration.

Husbanette takes her to romantical dinner and has her friends surprise her for an evening of drinks and dancing. He sends Pants and I to Karova Milk Bar – not the hip LES bar we all know, it’s the transplanted, ripped off, just-not-quite-the-same version in White Plains. We won’t discuss what it took to get to White Plains, as to not offend our dear friends, suffice it to say boarder control was involved and passports were stamped. So Pants and I run out of the cab in the rain into the address provided, but when we walk in something doesn’t seem right. He and I are literally the only white people in the joint – that’s fine, we’re urban and hip and we love old school hip hop as much as the next pair of whitey white Jews, but after waiting a half hour with no one we recognize showing up we pop outside to check the address once more to make sure we’re where we’re supposed to be. Seems we are, so I order another one of those blue frosty drinks and we hang. Finally the group all makes it in and 2 gets a big rowdy surprise. She comes in looking not a day over 25 and wearing a dress from Forever 21 which is a little sad considering, but adorable none the less. The thing is strapless and barely covers her big knockers but she’s got good ones, so it works. We drink, we laugh, we dance, a fun time is enjoyed by all when Husbandette suggests we retire to their place for a nightcap. 2 is reticent to leave until she hears her requested song, she wanted a little “Flayva in her Ear” for her 30^th, but sadly we had to leave without it. Off we go, but not before 2 flashes her panties to her maid of honor, not sure why that happened. Back at their place we’re gearing up for more partying when Husbandette grabs the guys to show them his new Playstation. So they leave us with the dog eating low fat ice cream while they compete in some stupid world series. Really they are 12. To try to tempt them back to hanging out with us we suggest making out with each other, but neither boy got up from the couch. So 2 and I head upstairs to get in bed and watch Man vs. Wild. Here’s a man who is out there actually having adventures and living life and he’d for sure turn off the ninentendo to watch a 30-year-old and a 29-year-old (had to get that in), both with big boobs, make out. We of course fall asleep and then awake early to vomit and take aspirin. In all, it was exactly as a 30^th bash should be and 2 felt loved and special. Now of course she just feels old, but at least she had a fun night. And below is your song request. Enjoy!

It's review time...

...in my office and now that I’m the big cheese, it falls to me to critique everyone else’s performance. This is like my version of a wet dream. Although I don’t oft find fault in myself, I’m an expert in pointing it out in others. I used to have a hard time criticizing someone to their face, I was all about doing it behind their back, but for some reason I’m totally over that and have no anxiety dolling out the negative feedback. All these lazy bitches, they just play on myspace all day and read PerezHilton – the thing is he does post several times a day so you do need to check often to stay up on the most current news – at least this is what I’ve heard. But maybe if they concentrated a bit more on their work, there wouldn’t be giant budgetary issues like the one that came up this week – again totally not my fault.

Here are just a few of the real life screw ups we’ll be discussing during reviews.

• 110k in budget overages that were not accounted for – still need to figure out who exactly I’m blaming that on.
• Introducing new spokesperson at an event, but spelling their name wrong on the invite – that cost 5k to make with no time to redo.
• Sending exclusive pitch story to the wrong outlet, intended for NY Times, went to Time Out NY – not exactly the same thing.
• Spending $400 on an editor lunch with just three people… yeah what could they have ordered - basically a jug of vodka - not really appropriate work behavior.
  

Heads will roll. Good thing we’re not giving raises this round of reviews cause nobody deserves one. Well except for some, me in particular.

Holy Bam!

Bam! We knew you were a loon, but our very own George Bush? It's not a good look for you!

Too cranky to post today...

I straightened my hair and pulled it back in a tight ponytail and now it’s giving me a giant headache. I’m not used to all this tension, I’m used to free-flowing curly locks. That combined with allergies, crohn’s and a boyfriend who snored all night, I’m in a totally crappy mood. Spent three hours this morning trying to fix that little accounting error, that was so not my fault, and there’s some ridiculous construction project happening in the office next door. I’d eat chocolate to make myself feel better but I’m all stuffed up so I could barely taste it. My brain hurts, so I can’t think of something funny to say. So just watch this, he's even more cranky than me, maybe it'll make you laugh…





Pants - next week don't piss him off.

Theme of the Week

Yeah, that's right, I'm milking it. Partly because I'm lazy, and getting old and my brain isn't as 'quick' as it once was, so I sometimes have to rely on the wit of others to get me through a rough posting period.

So thank you, Andy Rooney for this little ditty. You are a wise sage in your old years, even if your 60 Minutes bit is stale and ridiculous and the suntan lotion you have been gathering in your facial wrinkles kind of freaks me out. I apologize for that time I almost hit you when you were crossing the street on the UWS - you kind of looked like a crazy man with your CBS baseball hat and your slight hunchback. You had a furl in your lip and you looked like you had purpose. Who knew a 98 year old man could make it to the middle of the intersection so fast?

Turning 30 by Andy Rooney

This is for all you girls 30 years and over....and for those who are turning 30, and for those who are scared of moving into their 30's! This was written by Andy Rooney from CBS 60 Minutes

Andy Rooney says: As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, "What are you thinking?". She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.

A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.

Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.

A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over 30 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won't betray her.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free." Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage.

Courtesy of 2's Husband-ette

Ok, so I made a little mistake at work

No one is dead, I’m not a doctor who dropped a scalpel or anything, I push lipstick so it’s not really going to injure anyone, but none-the-less a an error was made, I can’t really blame it on anyone else (or I haven’t thought of a way to blame it on someone else yet) so I have to suck it up and apologize. Not my favorite activity. In case you are wondering, I forgot to account for about 110k in account spending and so now I have to make up for it in my current budget – which basically wipes out everything we were planning to do for the rest of the year – but still – I don’t think it can be completely blamed on me – their accounting system is stupid, and I’m not a CPA or whatever, I don’t even know what that stands for. Usually in my real life I never have to admit mistakes. I’m not wrong often, and if I am, I can basically find a way to explain that I’m actually not, and most of the time it works. Pants hates this tactic of mine but I think he’d agree I’m right about it. Right Pants? Anyway, I can’t seem to talk my way out of this one. And the worst part is that this client loves me and thinks I’m great at everything. It wouldn’t matter if it was for a client who thought I sucked cause it wouldn’t stand out, but this client thinks I poo rainbows so now it will probably sour their image of me. Which makes me think I should just go ahead and blame it on someone else. I mean the truth is, if I were getting proper support from the people under me and I didn’t have to basically do their work for them, then I’d have the time to work on my budgets without distraction. And I’m just one person, there’s only so much I can do in a day, mistakes are bound to happen when working under these strenuous conditions. I think I’ll ask for a raise and an assistant. That would be the only way to ensure I’m able to do the job that is expected of me.

As We Close This Chapter...

As the moment I've been in denial about creeps up on me from the backside, I would like to take a moment and reflect on my 20's and all that decade consisted of for yours truly.

The year was 1998. All My Life, by KC and Jo Jo was at the top of the charts. I was not yet of legal intoxication age, however, Deerpark Tavern didn't know that. Well, they knew it a couple times, when I went from being Shania, age 36, from Maryland to Felicity, age 23 from Long Island. Anyway, minor details. I was driving a Honda Civic hatchback. I was dating a bald guy who loved to work out so much that he was losing his neck (and subsequently, lost me - not in his neck, just in general). University of Delaware was a rockin' good place to be. I was doin' lots of drugs, getting it all out of my system (or into my system, if you insist on being literal). I was having a grand olde time. And my boobs were pretty fantastic.

1999. More of the above. I turned 21, and celebrated by renting a convertible and driving to the beach with my girlfriends. Except for the fact that it was the middle of May, not warm, and it rained the whole ride down, so basically, the convertible was a wash. But minor details. I spend the year single, "exploring my options."

2000. I graduate from chaos. Enter more chaos as I move to NYC in a UHaul. My bed, my computer, my bong. Well, that's a lie. I left the bong at school for the next lucky soul. Woo hoo! NYC! I have no job though. This doesn't go well. I realize that I am living in a shitty 5th floor walk up with a bitchy girl and I have no money because I don't have a job. But then I get a job. Woohoo!

2001-2004. I pretty much just have a great time, with the exception of World Trade Center bombing, crazy musician boyfriend who likes to sit in front of my building with his guitar 'serenading' me, living in an apartment across the hall from a major drug dealer (not the good kind of drugs, unfortunately, the scary kind), and then finally moving into my own place. Albeit, it was the size of my bathroom now but it was all mine and who cares if I lived next door to 400 Chinese people in one tiny apartment (all with their shoes out on the mat in the hallway). It was mine. And it was great.

2004. Dating kinda blows. I know I'm cute, why are all the guys I meet either lunatics/manic/OCD/addicted to something/obsessive? I am over it. But then I make a funny friendsterette, and after love at first martini I declare myself taken.

2005. Move in with friendsterette. He has a dog and he's funny. He makes me cry. From laughing - he makes me cry from laughing. It's amazing.

2006. More friendsterette. We move to the 'burbs. Oh my god, I get bigger sunglasses so people don't recognize me because I am now that girl I swore I would never be, living life like suburban barbie. My favorite friend, my gay husband, my dear dear TDF passes away. It's the worst time of my life. I can't take the pain, I feel like life has been sucked out the door. I recover, I realize that he is still with me and he teases me when I am showering and he can see my ass got fat and he also teases me when I get my eyebrows waxed. So it's good, he's still with me, in spirit. I tell friendsterette he better marry me for movin' me up to Wisteria Lane. I get engaged! Woohoo!

2007. Ette2. Gets. Married. I become a WIFF. Or a WILF. Either way, I now have turned friendsterette into husbandette and it's a beautiful thing. We go to Hawaii. Kvetchette is born!!!! Life is good!

2008. I start to notice a little wrinkle by my eye. It has become an obsession of mine. I apply creme to the area constantly. I start worrying if I am getting enough fiber. I floss. I write down the days of my cycle in a calendar. I buy gas twice a week for my big rig. Basically, I have become a suburban loserette.

And here we are, and this is my final week of my 20's. And I'd like to say, thanks for sharing it with me. 20's, I will miss you. You've provided me with the good, the bad and the ugly. I am celebrating by going to Vegas to slut it up with husbandette for a few days - really party like it's 1999 (literally) before I come home and join AARP.

30 better be good or some one's in trouble.

The Pilot has turned on the fasten seat belt light - so please return to the bathroom

This is too funny. This guy got some free ticket to fly on JetBlue, but the flight attendant decided she didn't want to sit in her "jump seat" and the pilot told the guy he had to give her his seat. He couldn't sit in the jump seat because it's for employees only and so during turbulence they made him sit in the bathroom. Now the guy is suing for 2 million. They made him sit on the toilet instead of the jump seat ?! WTF. This guy must have pissed someone off. I hope he gets the 2 mil, and I hope they try to make me sit in the bathroom on my next flight so I can make money too, it would so be worth it. I'd rather be in there then be stuck in the middle seat between two fatties taking over the arm rests and breathing heavy. Even the little TVs don't make up for that.



Man says JetBlue made him sit on toilet

By SAMUEL MAULL – 7 hours ago

NEW YORK (AP) — A New York City man is suing JetBlue Airways Corp. for more than $2 million because he says a pilot made him give up his seat to a flight attendant and sit on the toilet for more than three hours on a flight from California.

Gokhan Mutlu, of Manhattan's Inwood section, says in court papers the pilot told him to "go 'hang out' in the bathroom" about 90 minutes into the San Diego to New York flight because the flight attendant complained that the "jump seat" she was assigned was uncomfortable, the lawsuit said.

Mutlu was traveling on a "buddy pass," a standby travel voucher that JetBlue employees give to friends, from New York to San Diego on Feb. 16, and returned to New York on Feb. 23, the lawsuit said.

Initially, Mutlu was told a flight attendant had taken the last seat on the plane, but then he was advised she would sit in the employee "jump seat," meaning he could have the last seat, the lawsuit said.

The pilot told him 1 1/2 hours into the five-hour flight that he would have to relinquish the seat to the flight attendant, court papers say. But the pilot said that Mutlu could not sit in the jump seat because only JetBlue employees were permitted to sit there, the lawsuit said.

When Mutlu expressed reluctance to go sit in the bathroom, the pilot, who was not named in the lawsuit, told him that "he was the pilot, that this was his plane, under his command that (Mutlu) should be grateful for being on board," the lawsuit said.

When the aircraft hit turbulence and passengers were directed to return to their seats, but "the plaintiff had no seat to return to, sitting on a toilet stool with no seat belts," court papers say.

Some time later, a male flight attendant knocked on the restroom door and told Mutlu he could return to his original seat, court papers say.

Mutlu's lawsuit, filed Friday in Manhattan's state Supreme Court, says JetBlue negligently endangered him by not providing him with a seat with a safety belt or harness, in violation of federal law.

A JetBlue spokesman declined comment on the lawsuit Monday.

Jim Bob and Michelle Plus A Big Ole Vag

Ok, this needs to be discussed.

Have you heard of this family – the Duggars? Of course I’m obsessed with TLC so I know their whole life story, but if you think Jon & Kate Plus 8 are bad, wait until you see this family. This couple Jim Bob (that’s right, that’s what he goes by, not just Jim, its Jim Bob) and Michelle have 17 kids and the 18th is on the way. This poor deflated balloon of a woman has been pregnant for 135 months of her life – that’s right, she’s been pregnant for more than 11 years in total – and guess what guys, it’s always a natural birth. I can’t even imagine what the size of her whooha is, she must have to tape it together just to walk around without peeing all the time. Of course they are some ridiculous Christian faith that doesn’t believe in birth control. Technically if I were a really good Jew, I wouldn’t either. Basically the only time you are supposed to do it is to conceive a child – but since we don’t still stone adulterers (though maybe we should consider bringing that one back) I feel its ok to go light on the Bible baby making rule. Not the Duggars though. And beyond the fact that they dress like pilgrims from that Big Love ranch and “home school” their kids, they do so many creepy things, like give all their kids “J” names. There’s even an online contest for what they might name their next kid, Jason, Jesus, Janiqua… I barely have enough love inside of me for my boyfriend and my dog, I can’t imagine how these people love 18 kids. But they aren’t in debt and don’t ask for handouts, so I guess it’s fine. But I do worry about those kids, I’m riddled with anxiety from middle child syndrome and I only have two siblings, what must all those poor Js be going through…

Ho Lee There-A-Pee

I never thought it was possible (and many can certainly attest to such) - but I have officially been rendered speechless. This video, whilst a real, valid British documentary on "breast feeding" is probably not work appropriate, for reasons I can only describe as both disturbing and mind-blowing.

Kids, don't let kids breastfeed and drive. It's not safe for the rest of the world. This is how we produce the mentally deranged sect of our human race. Or at least why it's so hard to get an appointment with a good therapist these days...

Ebert and Ette(2)

No Country for Old Men? More like No Patience for This Movie.

Ette2 gives it TWO thumbs down. And if anyone wants to buy a copy of said movie on BlueRay, I'm sellin' it to the highest bidder. I might even pay YOU to take this movie from my possession.

Most awesomest dance off ever

Forget JT and Britney in pre-Kevin days, the best dance off is taking place on the internets as we speak. Here’s the background. My cousin works for the director of that dance movie Step Up 2: The Street, Jon Chu. They were hanging on set when one of the stars of the movie, this incredibly talented 15-year-old dancer Adam Sevani (below )started getting texts from Miley Cyrus (total douche). Basically she was flirting with him and teasing him saying she’s probably a better dancer. So he and Jon decided to make her prove it, they created a bad-ass dance challenge video that they posted on youtube. Miley saw it and responded with a video of her own. Of course her dancing sucks. So Jon and Adam teamed up for their response, see below. It’s amazing dancing with lots of celeb cameos, courtesy of my totally connected cousin. My little cus even busts a move in this one, check her out towards the end in the stripped white shirt and hat. So the ball is in Miley’s court now.

Mother's Day update

She hated the gift. Obvi. Returning them again. Next year Broadway tickets.

What's the Difference

Fundamentally, men and women are different. Priorities, interests, turn-ons/offs, pretty much the works. I get it. This isn't some attempt at providing you with some breakthrough. But there are certain things I don't understand, and I'd like to put it out there and then give you mens a fair parallel to get you to understand how ridiculous some of your obsessions are.

1) Stereo/TV/Video game/Electronic Compulsion. Just because they come out with a new Playstation/HDTV/etc does not mean you must own it. Zac Posen comes out with an ENTIRE collection of clothing each season - you do not see me running to Saks to purchase it. Just because it exists out there in the universe does not mean it is meant to be owned by you. You are not 16 with an after school job working at Foot Locker. You do not get to spend all your earnings on toys anymore. I don't care who of your friends has it, go play it at their house then. It will work two fold because you wanted time away from the nagging wife anyway, so it's a bonus excuse to get out of the house. The equivalent of this, men, would be if I just bought a Marc Jacobs bag. And then a few months later, the exact same Marc Jacobs bag comes out merely "updated" with a new zipper and a new lining, and one of my friends got the new one and I know from experience it's SO much cooler than the one I currently use to shlep all my shit around in. If I told you that the "new and improved version" of the $600 bag I just HAD to have 3 months ago has come out and my old one is a dinosaur bag, well for this you would laugh in my face.

2) Cars. Yes, your car is nice, it goes fast, it's great. Woohoo. Does it need a $22 car wash every week? Probably not. Shit, your car gets washed more often than I wash my hair. I just don't get the need to be able to see your face stubble in the gleam of the paint. That's what mirrors are for. This would be the equivalent of me saying to you that I need a weekly blow out at the salon, which will cost approximately $35. I want you to be able to see your reflection in my shiny locks.

3) Golf. You men use this as an excuse to partake in an expensive game that makes you appear wealthy, sophisticated, knowledgeable and connected. You try to woo us with this "sport" by telling us that it's good exercise and it keeps you fit. No it doesn't. You go to the golf course with your buddies, drink two beers before you start, have a big lunch in the middle and then when the game is over you celebrate with scotch. That is not exercise, that is called a party. I can not be fooled. This is the equivalent of me telling you that the spa is an important part of my career building and well being. So have fun at the course, I'll be getting a $200 rubdown and a pedicure where they rub my calves with caviar.

4) Sex. You men claim you need it all the time. You complain that you don't get it enough. This is the equivalent of me complaining all the time about all the things you don't do enough, like cook, clean, pay attention to my sensitive needs, be affectionate and romantic, handle chores...all that.

Oh, wait...I do complain about those things. Hm. Oh, well then, carry on. Let me know when you'll be back from golf so I can pop in Grand Theft Auto and then after I kick your ass we can go have sex like animals.

Since we're on Mother's Day

Thought I'd mention it's my sister's first Mother's Day this year. I won't be buying her a gift - she has a husband and kid for that sort of thing. But I will wish her a happy Mother's Day. I will also aim to embarrass her. We were having our normal morning skype session today when the subject of her child came up - shocking. Here's the actual convo, enjoy.



EK: You should try to get some time with the baby
EK: She is sooooooooo cute
EK: Kills me


KK: So you say


EK: I really love her
EK: So sweet
EK: Kissy face emoticon
EK: I think this has to be the best time, but then I think about when she can talk and I know that's got to be amazing too


KK: Do you think so you love her so much because she is yours, or because she's actually special?


EK: She is really special
EK: I've seen other babies


KK: Ha, yeah but their parents think they are special too


EK: But they don't have discriminating tastes like we do
EK: I mean obviously I'm biased, but she really is cool


KK: yeah, she is


EK: I wouldn't even say she's the cutest thing around (although she is), so I'm not bad like that, but there is something about her that's funny.
EK: Like some parents think they have the cutest baby in the world. I know that she's not your classic beauty, but she's just super. Even cranky, she's got personality.
EK: OK that's all I'll say
EK: Accept that she is a classic beauty and she is the cutest baby in the world


KK: This chat is going on the blog


EK: Seriously?


KK: I think we should share it.


Little AJ, I hope you know how much your mom loves you - try your best to stay sweet and don't do drugs and sleep with boys and stuff. And get her Broadway tickets once a year.

Mother's Day gift getting woes

Mother’s Day is in the air. And for some it strikes fear in your heart. You have to come up with a gift - and not just a normal bracelet or pair of sunglasses kind of gift, it has to be truly thoughtful, to really express your gratitude to your mom for the years she suffered giving birth to your big ass and then raising you and dealing with all your teenage drama and stuff. Many moms enjoy a spa treatment or a nice bouquet of flowers, but not mine! If your mom is like mine you can basically guarantee that unless it’s Broadway tickets she won’t like it. Mom – you know it’s true, don’t try to deny it. She is so uber practical that she thinks gifts like those are silly: “flowers die, I don’t want a stranger rubbing me.” Try to get her a purse and the response is: "Thanks Honey, it’s not really a color I’d wear everyday but that’s nice of you.” Try to get her a new wallet: “Well I prefer one with a change purse that has a zipper, but thanks.” So every year I’m stricken with anxiety over what to do. And of course my sister doesn’t even play this game, she buys Broadway tickets in March and presents them to her with a card every year – to the great delight of my mom. Well I won’t give in, I bought a gift that I think is pretty and useful and something she needs and might not buy for herself. On Sunday afternoon I will present it to her with the carefully chosen card (can’t be funny, must be serious and long – no one-liners for her, it needs to really pour out the emotion). And on Monday I feel confident I’ll be returning the gift from whence it came. Well Mother it is the thought that counts and you can believe me that lots of thought went into my gift. I hope you don't hate it. Happy Mother’s Day, you are the best.