Funny moments in corporate history...

Out to drinks with coworkers. One sort of socially uncomfortable man has beer and develops a strange tic. He makes bad joke about Subservient Chicken doing funny dirty things like "jumping on one foot" (oh, how dirty...) "cartwheels" (oh, give me more, that's so hot) and then all of a sudden out of nowhere busts out with "finds a way to f&^k himself and then take it up the a*# by a rooster." Whoa buddy...someone should take your one corona light away from you, you're getting a little crazy and you're making me nervous.

Going out to drinks with coworkers makes me realize that I should not be having drinks with coworkers. My days of blending of work life/social life are long gone. I tainted myself with years of taking serious advantage of unlimited expense accounts (yes, I'll pay for that bottle of Opus 1 on my corporate card - in fact, make it two!) and mixing business with pleasure as I partook in such activities as watching my drunk and naked boss dive into a hotel pool. Those days are over. Now it's Connecticut corporate, buttoned up, have a drink at your own risk (and pay for that shit too) and make small talk with peeps with baby vomit crusted on their collars.

So tonight I've realized it's high time I should just stick to what I know, write my bits and get the hell out of dodge, into my gas guzzling SUV, to drive home to my dog and husband so we can get drunk together and play Guitar Hero.

Sorry, work peeps.

(1, another reason why we should still be working together, btw)

Thank you Ette3

My mysterious heroin - thank you for coming to my defense. Ette1 certainly does get a lot of shit from big 'ole meanies who are hating on her unique and interesting sense of humor. May we remind you that neither Ette1 nor Ette2 are compensated in any form for their hard work.

So if you don't like it, you can suck it. Listen to the bird.

Apartment hunting is bullshit

I’m looking for an apartment yet again – four times in my seven years in New York and I do not recommend it. Here’s what’s wrong with searching for a place to live in NYC.

• Craig’s list is bullshit. Any random jerk-off can put up a listing making the apartment sound like a freaking palace, but leave out the fact that by UES, they mean 148^th street.

• No fee rental sites are bullshit: They give details for apartments, but don’t post pictures, which means the place is too ugly to photograph, and they use words like “charming” which means cramped and “sun-drenched” which means the windows are broken and there’s no super to patch them up.

• Broker sites are total bullshit: They have all these amazing listings with beautiful photos of gorgeous apartments, but as you scroll through you notice the bathroom in every one of their listings is the same, the kitchen looks the same too. And then you realize they are just pasting the same freaking images for all of the apartments, which means they are not real listings, which means you wasted a half hour of company time reviewing them.

• Management companies are bullshit: They post listings for seemingly lovely apartments that totally fit within your price range, and when you call to inquire about the place they say that one is gone but they have another great availability that is only twice the price. And they only take cats, which is bs because cats suck way worse than dogs.

• Brokers are crazy bullshiters: First of all they are all on coke, like all the time. They try to sell you on every shitty property they have – because here’s the deal: They get paid when you sign a lease, if they can get you to sign a lease on the first place you see, then they made upwards of 3 grand for about a half hour’s work. Often they’ll take you to not their best availability – but the one they can’t sell off, hoping that you are the dumb schmuck who will agree to it. If you make them take you to see 15 places before deciding, they are cranky, and basically at this point they are done being nice to you and they’ll tell you that this is last apartment that will ever be on the market in NYC and if you don’t sign for it immediately then you will be living on the streets like a bum.

So essentially my life will suck for the next two weeks as I wrestle with each of these search options in an attempt to find my dream home, which in the end will be too small, too expensive, too noisy and infested with bugs. And then once I finally sign a new lease, I’ll post about how annoying moving companies are.

Birthday parties for babies

It’s a whole new world once you grow out of keggers for your friends and start attending birthday parties for kids turning 1. Angel Baby is a year old now and we celebrated this weekend with a party and baby naming in her honor. Here are the lowlights.

• You get all excited for the first time a kid is going to eat cake. For the first year it’s basically bottles and stewed peas, so by the time the first birthday comes around you are excited to share your deep love of sweets. But of course since it’s an unfamiliar flavor the kid just makes a yucky face and then whines because they have frosting on their hands – total letdown, oh well, more cake for me.

• For the occasion you buy baby an adorable little pink dress with white polka dots, but baby gets her hands on a bottle of water and proceeds to spill the entire thing down the front of her dress – thus ruining birthday photos in cute dress.

• No alcohol at baby parties – but plenty of salads with mayo.

• When surrounded by 30 strangers, baby refuses to do all the cute baby tricks you taught her all year, like saying “hi,” and waving and doing the “so big” arm thing.

• Gift you and Pants carefully chose at FAO Schwarz goes completely unnoticed as baby tries to eat wrapping paper.

Festivus Weddingus

Thank god the weekend is over. Not because it wasn't fabulous, but because it was a whirlwind-nonstop celebration, and frankly, I just couldn't drink another goddamn mimosa. Friendette Laura's wedding was this weekend...a blown out affair for about 250 peeps at a big mansion out on Long Island. She married well - they do it up right with raw oyster bars, espresso and cordial bars and hand rolled cigars by two gents who sort of looked more like Al Pacino Italian hard asses than Cuban tobacco farmers but what can you do...

Aside from having to wear shoes that pretty much chewed my feet up to a pulp, H-ette and I got hit on by some married "swingers" who we never would have pegged as such. Talk about awkward. It was one of those nights where once you find out the real intentions you start to put two and two together from all the interaction you've had with them over the course of the night and go "oh. my. god." Like when I spent 20 minutes telling them how much I LOVE oysters, as I'm stuffing my face with them from the freshly shucked-while-you-wait bar, telling them all it takes is a few oysters to make me putty, insert foot in mouth here. And telling the wife how great her boobs looked in her dress. Oh yeah, there were tons of moments like that through out the night. Completely harmless adult banter until you find out they want to swap spit with you horizontally.

Other lessons learned this weekend?

• Kids are a handful. Mine will be trained to sit, be quiet, walk, say hello and hold their pee on command. None of this tantrum b.s. and certainly none of the brat pack crap.
• Shots of "cordial" liquors are not a good idea. There's a reason they suggest cutting that frangelica with coffee and cream.
  
• Shots of anything, for that matter, are not a good idea. Especially when done in rapid fire with "Scuba Steve," the maitre'd for the evening who is kind of like Stone Cold Steve Austin on Long Island steroids. And his shot measurements matched that. Go big or go home, if you know what I mean.
  
• Catholic ceremonies are bananas. People come to the church in shorts and flip flops, that is if they even come. Can you imagine a Jewish wedding ceremony where someone showed up to shul in shorts and flip flops?? Or better yet, someone who only showed up for the party, hoping to have stayed under the radar and miss the long and boring vows? Lookout - Jewish mother devil flames will set your ass on fire. You're better off showing up early, passing out programs, wearing your Bar Mitzvah suit and keeping the peace.
  
• Nothing is/was/will be ever as special and wonderful as my own wedding, which was pretty much my favorite day ever, and I wouldn't trade it in for any raw oyster bar (or swinger come-on) in the world. Except when 1 gets married of course...
  

My little baby turns 1 tomorrow

Wow, how she's grown...

Another one bites the bust

Can't confirm yet, but there's a lot of news that Madonna and Guy Ritchie are splitting up and the latest from a reputable London newspaper says they've lawyered up. Now here's the thing. I knew this would happen, famous people can't be married, I've said it time and time again, but this one makes me a little sad. I liked them together, they celebrated Purim together and that appealed to my Jewessness. I didn't even care that Madonna turned British for him. The Brits are way cooler than us, I totally got that. It's just sad that they just adopted little David and now they are splitting up. But there's no getting around it, celeb relationships don't last...
I'm talking to you Angie and Brad,
and to you Eva and Tony Parker,
and Michael and Catherine
and Beyonce and J
and JLo and Skeletor
and Nicole and Joel
and even sadly Tori and Dean

Sorry that it won't work out for you guys, just remember - don't do anything on tape or leave voicemails that could be recorded and basically avoid capturing on film of any sort any type of language or action you don't want the world to see, let's all learn a lesson from Denise and Charlie please.

WTDWH

Last night was the BET awards which meant the best in high fashion "glamour" was on display.

Let's talk about Lil' Kim. OK, I know it hasn't exactly been her year with the whole jail stay and all, but girl has been looking pretty rough lately and last night was no exception.

1. The hair - Li'l Kim, you are not a natural blonde. That wig looks like some of Britney Spears' extensions fell on the floor and you picked them and pasted them to your head.
   
2. The plastic surgery: Cute little Kimberly of old is long gone and has been replaced with a new plastic version of her former self, she must have asked the doctor for Micky Rourke's new cheekbones.
3. The boobs: When your boob job is sagging and even an industrial strength halter can't hold 'em up, you know it's time to go and get them fixed.
4. The bag and bag placement: Not really hiding the fact that you gained like 30 pounds since before your prison days. What exactly are they serving in jail these days, I thought it was all white bread and milk. Well milk did not do your body good.
5. The shoes: I kinda like them
   

Seriously, people?

This Monet was just sold for 80.4 million dollars.

It's a friggin watercolor Lily pond. Leia the wunderdog could paint that shit with her left paw and her ears over her eyes. In fact, those white splotches on the painting? Those are exactly the shape her paw prints leave on the kitchen floor when she comes in from the rain. What makes this an 80 million dollar masterpiece?? Do you know what 80 million dollars would buy?

133,300 Marc Jacobs bags

13,333,333 Extra value meals at Mickey D's

33,898 grande cappuccinos at Starbucks

200,000 months worth of Cobra health insurance for healthy young females

5.3 sets of Jolie - Pitt baby pics

800,000 tickets to see Pearl Jam

266,666 Ethiopian children could be fed for a year

Or, you could buy a lame, boring (and quite frankly, tacky) picture of flowers - that you'll have to pay almost as much to insure, hire bodyguards and install a security system to protect, and it won't give you any more pleasure than looking that shit up on kvetchette.com and seeing a picture of the thing. Losers.

7 Words You Can't Say on Television

...but you can say them on the Internets. Hence the reason we spend all day on the Internets. (Wonder if when George came up with this skit back in the 70's he ever thought there would be such a thing as YouTube. Doubt it.)

Rest in Peace George Carlin and thank you for giving us seven words, stuff, white people, fat people, and everything else we love to laugh at.

Warning - If you haven't ever seen this skit (shame on you) but be forewarned - it's not work appropriate. Unless you work from home, work for a record label, magazine, PR firm, ad agency, fitness center, fashion house, or are homeless and watching this in the NY Public library. Cheers.

Are you loving this whole teen pregnancy pact as much as I am?

Something like 17 17-year-olds in a Mass high school got together and all decided to get knocked up – one was so desperate to do so she screwed a homeless man.

Here’s the thing, I blame Nicole Richie. She looked too freaking cute during her pregnancy, cute clothes, cute body, cute reformed – formerly bad-boy boyfriend, cute everything. And then she pops out a super cute baby with a cute name and has her body back in like 10 minutes. Damn, she makes me want to do the deed too. In nine short months, she went from misguided Hollywood badgirl to A-list star status with a new-found respectful, even pious image.

But for those of you considering making a pact of your own. Here’s what they don’t show you in US Weekly:

• Your baby will cry, probably all the time, you won’t know why, you won’t be able to stop it and it’s annoying.
• You will not sleep, your baby needs to be fed, burped, changed, rocked, etc every two hours – not exaggerating. So you will be tired, bone tired, want to die tired. That is when your baby will cry. Not little sad weeping, it’s angry, aggressive, intense screaming and the more you try to soothe them, the more they will yell. And then they do this thing where they arch their back and become all stiff so you can barely hold them – while they are crying.
  
• You will put them in the crib in frustration but that makes it worse, and then you worry that neighbors will hear and that they’ll call some sort of child service organization to your apartment, you think for a moment that might be a good thing, maybe they’ll take the baby away, but then realize there will be courts involved etc so you pick the kid up again, continued crying.
• For the first 5-6 months of life, your baby will not show any pleasure in being with you. They will not smile, they will not hug and they will not say thank you.
• You think for a moment that they are smiling but then you realize that they just have gas.
• Your baby will however cry when you leave the room, so things like going to the bathroom, or showering become complicated – you actually have to have someone else in the house to watch the kid so you can do those things. It won’t be your husband or boyfriend because they will leave the house to do other more interesting things. So you shower far less regularly, you smell your friends don’t visit as often.
• Your baby will poop and it’s gross and when you try to change their diaper, they’ll squirm around and get poo on you and the table, which you have to clean.
• You will get fat, everyone does, no avoiding it.
• Your vag will get stretched out.
• You can't ever leave the kid alone, so you can't vacation, you can't gym, you can't shop and you can't even take a walk without making arrangements for the baby.
• Your life will suck

Pregnancy pact that bitches, I'm going on vacation with my well-rested, tight, free-time having, chilllaxin self.

and because we don't post on the Lord's day

even though it's not our lord's day, it's someones lord, and we are respectful ettes....

SO

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LORD HONNA . . . . .

. . . YA OLD FART! ! !

Beach blanket bingo

Spent the weekend on Cape Cod. Yeah, that's how we roll. No collars popped though, and definitely no boat shoes, I can assure you that. Spent Saturday afternoon on the beach. Now this was a very popular beach - 2 big parking lots to park in, loads of soft sand to splay out your chairs and kids and way-too-big umbrellas and whatnot...and last year, upon discovering this particular beach I was happy to report back to my CC peeps that a) they don't charge for parking (a BIG plus on the cape) and b) you can drink on the beach (b/c what's a day on the beach without a six-pack?) and c) they offer a plethora of port-a-potties for convenience (and of course to help you after you've consumed said 6-pack).

Well, this summer, I guess the Cape is cutting costs. No port-a-potties to be had. After realizing this I was already 2 beers in, and sort of kegal-exercising my bladder into resistance. Well we for sure weren't going to vacate our spots and get in the car and go find a loo as it was only about 1pm and there was still way too much sun cancer to be gotten. No sirree. H-ette told me to go in the ocean. Well, it's only June and the weather has been pretty freakish, so as any of you eastern seaboard beach-goers know, the water has not yet had time to warm up. That beeyotch is colder than a witch's tit (whatever that means). But when a girl's gotta go a girl's gotta go. So me and about 35 kids, all who I suspect were doing the same thing as I was, ventured into the chilly waters and waded in up to our chests, because lord knows you can't just go in up to your knees and squat, that's way too obvious and that's behavior for someone who's had at least three beers, not two.

So this weekend was about peeing in the ocean. I am a huge advocate for not littering, for saving our planet and our whales and our Indian reservations and all that. But when a girl's gotta go, she's gotta go. So I advise if you are up on the Cape in the near future, stay away from South beach near Falmouth...the water is a little cloudy in those parts.

Elite-ette

In between shots and making out with really tall guys this weekend (not me Pants I swear), we had time for some stimulating, intellectual conversation over breakfast biscuits. The subject of elitism came up. We all know I’m a Hil gal but one of the knocks against Obizzle in the media is that he’s elitist. And we wondered why is that such a bad thing? Do we really need our president to be yokel? Americans want to vote for the guy they think they can sit down and have a beer with and who likes shooting guns at small animals. The guy who doesn’t use fancy words, or act too smart. Because why exactly – they don’t feel like they can relate? I say, how about we vote for the smartest guy (or gal) we can find. The one with the best education, the one with the smartest friends, who’s had the hardest to get jobs. Frankly I’m ok with the president of the United States being smarter than me – that actually makes me feel safe. I don’t care if s/he has never had a beer in her/his life. I don’t care if s/he drinks French champagne out of a crystal goblet while reading the Economist and practicing Latin trivia with a Nobel Prize-winning laureate – all of these score bonus points in my book. How about we find another reason to hate on Obama – perhaps something like the fact that his wife and spiritual advisers are honky-hating homophobes… not the fact that he’s kinda smart and can pronounce words real good.

Bridezilla in AC

Lawyerette has reviewed all the contracts, she deposed all the witnesses, she did her research and after careful consideration of the the facts she's decided to mary Mr. Big (Head).  So in celebration of the blessed event to come she was feted in glamourous fashion this weekend in AC.  Here are the highlights.

• Free money:  You think nothing comes free in this world?!  Not true, well not in AC at least.  Five fun girls and a bunch of homely people crowded the bus from port authority to AC, avoiding drinking any water to ensure we wouldn't have to use the on-board facilities.  Round trip ticket cost: $16.  As we pull into the casino driveway and deboard a woman with a stack of bills actually handed each of us a crisp 20 dollar bill. We stood there confused for many minutes before realizing we got free money, don't question, just enjoy.  We made money off the trip already!
  
• Lettuce wraps:  I have never seen a group of grown women become so excited over lettuce.  Let me let you in on a little secret ladies, chop veggies, fry them in oil, wrap in lettuce - enjoy.  PF Changs has a freaking racket going. 
• Pigs
• Business suits:  There is nothing like shopping for discounted office-wear at midnight. Nothing.
• Flesh colored underwear:  Since we were mostly Jewish or Jindian, and love a good bargain, we decided to bunk together to save some cash - four to a room, two per bed.  This caused some angst for Lawyerette - the issue - she only sleeps in her underwear.  PJs are too constricting, plus she gets hot.  She wondered if her bed-mate would be offended by cuddling up next to her drawers, with nothing but a silky, thin layer of fabric between her and the vagitarian.  She took a chance.  Everyone slept soundly I think.  
  
  
• Long walks on the boardwalk:  Including, mean bikers, Bill Cosby's creepy kid house, money stashed in a shoe, money falling out of a shoe, lucky person finding money, rightful owner claiming it back, sorry Salami. 
• Breakfast buffets: biscuits and breakfast dessert
• Chillaxing:  My new word, heard it this weekend, get used to it because I used it like 10 times already today and I giggle every time I do. It's here to stay.
• Mullets, meaty and on wheels:  AC is filled with drunk bachelors, drunk bachelorettes, their friends, and the following categories of people - often these work in combination: People with long-ass mullets, people who weight more than 275 and people on Jazzy chairs.  Makes a girl feel awfully good about herself, I must admit.
  
  
• Temporary hearing loss: Nothing a cab ride, a few bottles of water and a bed won't fix.
• Candy belt
• Making out with tall strangers
• "Visiting" with your boyfriend's father
• Penis straws
• Missions
• Pigs in crotchless underwear
  
  
  And a great time was had by all.  See I didn't write anything bad guys!

There ain't no bugs on me!

I searched that bed with a magnifying glass and flashlight on my hands and knees and for the life of me I couldn't find as much as a dust mite in there - squeaky clean. So now I'm off the bed bug thing, and convinced it was just a spider bite. Thank the good (Jewish) lord.

Now I am able to concentrate on other more important issues. Lawyerette I'm talking to you. I hope you are prepared for what is to come this weekend. You shall not be having a relaxing, easy, day-at-the-beach kind of bachelorette weekend. We're going balls out. You are not coming home until every single piece of necklace candy is consumed!

Infested!

OK, I am extremely unhappy today. I was sitting on my bed two nights ago, probably filing my nails or something, when I got bit by something on my arm. Didn’t notice the little bugger anywhere, but figured it was a mosquito or spider or something. Well this thing has been itching like a mother and it blew up and looks like a giant red welt on my arm. So I’m strolling around the office bitching about it when my friend takes a closer look, she had a concerned face on and then walks me over to talk to someone else in the office. She looks at my arm and they give each other, knowing, serious looks. Then they say the dreaded words BED BUGS.
I tear up almost immediately. They both had them and think this looks eerily like a bed bug bite. So I spent the rest of the afternoon googling bed bugs to compare and read about how to get rid of them. Guess what it’s almost fucking impossible to get rid of them. You basically have to burn your clothes and move. So now in addition to the most intense, painful itch on my arm, that could last for two weeks or more, I’m dying to get home and inspect the rest of the place. My poor little Bam is probably at home under attack right now.

So I make my round of whinning calls to anyone who will listen and sis-ette says, “funny you mention it, husband’s BF has bed bugs bad and was over the other night?!?!@!?!” Thanks a lot guys. If I have the bugs, you better put me up in a swank hotel while my place is being fumigated or better yet burned for insurance money. ARGH, I really need to move.

Birthdays

Birthdays are great, don't get me wrong. I love birthdays, especially when they are mine and I get to have an "It's all about me" day. But since my b-day has come and gone, I have to think of other people. So tonight I was wrapping H-ette's birthday prezzies, because he turns one graceful year older on Sunday. And it occurred to me, 20 minutes into my tedious, perfectionist wrapping job (with silver ribbons and all) that he is not even going to notice the damn wrapping paper. And then it occurred to me that there are a LOT of things we do that men don't even notice.

Such as:

Haircuts and color.

Flattering back pockets on way-too-expensive denim. Which we chose so our ass would look smaller, but apparently the only people who notice this are girls.

Purses.

Clean house.

PMS symptoms.

Dishwasher. Full? Empty.

Clean sheets on bed. (personal wink wink to my H-ette here)

Clean anything, for that matter.

What they do notice:

Your ass got fatter.

You didn't put gas in their car after you used it.

If their PS3 has been touched.

If mushrooms are in their dinner.

If you don't laugh at their jokes.

So I've decided...after this year, there will be no more wrapping prezzies for H-ette, or dad, or bro-sef. Just the ladies. Instead, I am going to save the environment one roll of wrapping paper at a time, and wrap the man-gifts in clean sheets, which they can in turn "unwrap" and make the bed! Everybody plays, everybody wins!

WTDWH

I love this game!!! Okay, okay 1, you came with Xtina, I'm comin' back at ya with our OTHER favorite bottle blonde, none other than Miss Tara - apparently she's back from Australia where she's been getting shitfaced with the locals and projectile vomiting her Taco Bell.

1) Yes, that's a scarf on her head. Ill-placed, sort of Taraholic-like, maybe she fell when she was drunk and cut her head, and it's really a bandage holding her brains in.

2) Toe overhang. Nothing is grosser than spiky slut heels that are too small for you, forcing your fugly toes to hang over the edge and scrape the red carpet. That's hottttt.

3) Her dress is wrinkled. And not in a "I was in the car for an hour, it has some creases, it's normal" kind of way. Nope. In the "this tacky dress was scrunched up into a ball the size of a shot glass" (which is where she found it - actually stuffed inside a shot glass) and then pulled out, slipped into, and off she goes.

This is Girl Interrupted waiting to happen...

WTDWH

I can’t really think of anything to post today, so how about this, we can add it as a new feature on the site. I’ll post a pic, most likely of a celeb, and then tell you everything I think is wrong with the picture. You can agree or disagree and tell us your thoughts in the comment section. You won’t be right if you disagree, but at least your voice will be heard.

Let’s kick off our new feature… “What They Did Wrong Here”


Christina Aquilera

For the record, I'm a quasi-XTina fan. Every now and then she comes out with a power ballad that is catchy and the girl has got some pipes which differentiates her from nearly every other pop star in the country. I also enjoy that she married a totally geeky Jew and then gave her baby an obscure Heb name. But her look lately has been suffering. We all know that she peaked in the "Dirty" video with the braids and the leather chaps, but still, I expect better than this. Here's what she did wrong:

1. The hair: This is not a color that is found in nature and her poor brown roots which have been drowned in peroxide are fighting their way back, she needs a touch up.
2. The tranny makeup speaks for itself
3. The tits: I mean come on, they are out of control, too big, too round, too fake, yuck - I don't get what boys like about that look, she looks like a blow up doll.
4. The jacket: Is she T-Bird?
5. The dress: Too tight, too skanky
6. The shoes: Ew, and they don't match
7. I think she works with Mariah's stylist, and she's like one of those aging Hollywood wives who's had one too many plastic surgeries and inadvertently made herself look 10 years older. Sad
   

Let's get back to what you are good at Christina...

Why aren't there any freaking good holidays in June?!

Here's a little tip about myself, when I decide I want something its all I can think about. My little brain pushes every other life issue aside so that it may concentrate on the task at hand, figuring out how I can get what I want. Friends and family can attest to the fact. (Though please don't do so in the comment section, I don't need to hear from the peanut gallery about how single minded I can be, I just admitted it thank you very much). Well my latest obsession is the new Balenciaga Giant Brief bag. Just look at how lovely it is. Soft leather, classic shape, giant gold rivets that serve no purpose whatsoever. I want this bag, I want it like I wanted my first pair of Louboutins (And yes, I've worn them on several occasions despite the fact that they kill and I can't exactly stand in them!) So as I'm racking my brain on ways to get my hand on this little beauty, I'm feeling frustrated that there are no holidays in the summer that warrant gifting. Flag Day just passed, but that's my mom's birthday so not really appropriate to ask for something for myself I guess. Father's Day flew by, couldn't figure out how to make that work for me for obvious reasons. What about the 4th, shouldn't we celebrate our nation's independence on providing fabulous bags for its most worthy citizens?! It's just that Hanukkah, Valentine's Day and my birthday all occur in one short quarter of the year - which basically means I get jipped on the gifting. By the time my b-day rolls around Pants is a little weak in the wallet. And I don't know if our anniversary counts because we broke up and got back together - can I count both days?! That could work, one of them is coming up in August... But Pants should be investing in other gifts for me, so we'll leave him out of this. OOH, brilliant idea, we need to create Auntie day. There's a grandparents day, mother's, father's etc... what about all the hard working spinster aunts out there? Don't they deserve recognition for all the free babysitting, baby clothes, baby planning, give-mom-and-dad-a-break-time that they put in with the rug rats?! I should think so. Aunts are vital to a child's rearing and should be recognized with fancy gifts that come in lilac. I'm declaring June 18th International Auntie Day. I'd like to celebrate by enjoying dinner at the International House of Pancakes, where I will enjoy the "face" and unwrap gifts. EK, your treat, you can bring Alex, just make sure she's cleaned and changed and all so she's not stinky when I'm eating my hash browns, and of course make sure she brings a gift, one in particular. When you are an Aunt, I'll of course return the favor.

Having a job looks good on you Pants...

Sometimes we learn the hard way

Yesterday's lesson was, "Don't play Frisbee with the dog on or near slate patio - she runs too fast for her own good and she stops on a dime."

Case in point: Doggy now has 4 ripped, bloody feet. So after a (painful) salt bath, lots of doggy tylanol and some first aid bandanges, here's what we're looking like. She kinda looks like Barbarro after a big race, which is kinda bad ass. But she also looks a little pitiful and I feel awfully terrible for her pain...poor puppy.

Apartment hunting blows

Big time. And I feel like I just did it, so the idea of having to look at a hundred crappy places again and then packing all my shit and moving is making me want to vomit my eggy breakfast all over the newly washed carpets in my office. But that would probably make it smell bad so I’ll hold it in, but I think you can understand the gravity of the situation. My little one year lease is up believe or not, and I can’t bear to stay in that tiny little hovel any longer. Here are the reasons why:

1. It’s too freaking small
2. I can hear my neighbors through our paper-thin walls, which means they can hear me and every time Pants and I have cross words with one another, they hear every one of them.
3. And as a result they refuse to say hello to me in the hall
a. Which is fine because I don’t need to be overly friendly with neighbors, I mean I have enough friends who I barely like talking to, I have no interest in making idle chit chat, but STEEL, you can smile, or say hello, it won’t kill you – it makes me crazy that they don’t acknowledge my presence when they see me. F them
4. It’s too small
5. The street is too noisy, I’m sick of all the honking and car alarms and annoying drunk people, I want some peace and quiet in my old age
6. No doorman, which means I have to send all my packages to someone else’s house, and it’s a pain to cart them back to my place
7. Too small
8. Because it’s a studio there’s basically one big (well actually small) room so when we cook, the entire apartment smells like chicken fajitas all freaking week. (Yes, smells like fajitas no matter what we make.)
9. Leaky ceiling, started dripping on my face as I was lying in bed trying not to think about food on Yom Kippur.
a. Yeah try to deal with a ceiling collapse when you are going on 19 hours of starvation, no food or water.
10. Small

So, if anyone knows of a great building, here’s what we’re looking for:
1 bedroom – big please
Accepts adorable, little, sweet and loving puppies
Laundry in building
Doorman
Elevator of course, not hoofin it up 5 flights thank you
UES, preferred, sorry Pants I need to be close to special niece
Must be in Manhattan – Sorry 2 and Husbandette – the burbs are for the birds
Oh and rent controlled ad free electric would be great too.

We’d like to pay 2k a month – let me know what you find!

This is not doctored

That is actually the size of Ben Alleck's head, scary right?!

What Happens on Fire Island...

...unfortunately doesn't stay on Fire Island, thanks to the advent of digital cameras with video functionality. And iPhones.

This weekend, a gaggle of gals headed to the island for some fun in the sun and drunken revelry. And boy, was it ever. Ten ladies in a house with one bathroom - this posed the first problem; I officially learned the hard way what happens when you hold your poo for 48 hours. Eggs and bacon don't help.

I'll spare you the gory details, and instead just provide you with one little gem of an exchange, which occurred at a bar called Flynn's on Saturday evening:

(Ette2, standing at the bar, ordering a round of lemon drop shots - guy walks up to bar, exchange begins)

Guy: (gives Ette2 the up/down checkout) So, what's your story - you got a boyfriend?

Ette2: (holds up her left hand and smiles) Sure do, except he's my husband now.

Guy: That's a shame. Just tell me one thing - does he treat you right?

Ette2: (laughs so hard something comes out of her nose) Did you really just ask me that?

And so, a cliche lives on. Guys are ridiculously lame, married women are intriguing. But not stupid.

All in all, friendette Minispice had a grande time. She even dressed up in a tutu at the end of the night and cast magic spells on the rest of us, pirouette and all.

So I conclude with a quick list of the valuable lessons I've learned this weekend:

1) I am way too old to sleep in a bunk bed - on the top bunk.

2) Wine, tequila, frangelica, vodka and beer don't mix. Not when you put them all together and certainly not when you follow one up with the next.

3 Eating seafood for dinner, just prior to drinking all of the above is a silly, silly idea.

4) Mothers and mother-in-laws who can party with you until 3:30 in the morning, laugh when guys try to flirt with you on your bachelorette night, make you breakfast in the morning and clean up afterward are pretty friggin cool.

5) When you ask a bunch of married chicks and moms "what they're into" don't be surprised when you get responses like "crossword puzzles, naptime, Hanna Montana and sweatpants."

Bravo!

Yikes. I completely forgot about the dang A-list awards. I've been looking forward to them so much, they just came and went with nary a thought...I think I had thought about them too much. And I entertained last night, so I have an excuse. Yup, that's right - Cuzinette Leah came over and we had roast chicken and some strange bread salad that tasted like Bruschetta. I say it as if I didn't cook the thing...I did. It was good, I promise. Sounds terrible. But everyone loved it, and Cuzinette realized she too is a guitar hero. Who knew?

Sooooo, thank the good lord for DVR because I will watch the A-list awards first thing Sunday night. Because this weekend, readerettes, is Friendette Minispice's bachelorette party on Fire Island. So off I go, tonight, to hang with 22 year old girls with hot bods so I can feel even worse about how old I am. It's really rough. Guess I'll have to get drunk to numb the pain.

I am sure I'll have plenty of stories to share with everyone come Monday. So for now, carry on, and be go be one with something this weekend.

The A-list awards

I can't imagine why 2 didn't post about the BRAVO A-list awards yet, but since she seems to be recovering from a bad day yesterday, I'll do the honors. And 2 if you haven't seen it, please watch this weekend, it will make you feel better.

I'm not sure what was better the pre-show red carpet hosted by Tim Gunn - boring, and some random Gay, Jewish comic who is now the most funniest person I've seen next to Kevin James (circa Comedy Central stand up special) and of course our beloved Kathy Griffen. He was was crude and rude and mean and funny but he said things so fast and then cut to the next interview that the "celebs" didn't even know what hit them. It was brilliance. Kathy was in top form as always, I especially loved her opening song. Ignore that fact that it was a giant commercial for John Frieda and you can basically skip through every award they give out and just watch the funny Kathy stuff and stupid celeb speeches. The best of the night however is awarded to Miz Lauren Hutton. Enjoy below...

First order of business

Pants, I'm happy for you with the new gig and all, but you really have some work to do over there.

Everyone knows I'm a Hil gal, but seriously, Obama's Baby Mama?! That is so freaking racialist.

Some days suck

You know the ones, when nothing seems to be easy. People act selfish. No one returns your calls. You can't move forward. You feel let down. Your shower is cold. Your "change oil" message comes on in your car. Your lunch looks gross. Your coffee is burned. You delete a voice mail you didn't mean to. Your computer crashes. The line at the pharmacy is super long. Your morning radio show is a repeat. The tabloids are boring. You don't have a vacation any time soon. You didn't sleep last night. You can't get the dumbest, worst song ever out of your head. Your family annoys you. You ruin dinner three nights in a row. You go out to eat on the fourth night, and it sucks too. You try a new hairstyle and halfway through the day you realize, after having not looked at yourself in the mirror for four hours that it looks ridiculous. You find out that you've had a sesame seed stuck between your two front teeth all day and no one told you. Your dog doesn't even want to snuggle you. Your DVR doesn't record your favorite show like it's supposed to. You get a stupid oil droplet stain on something brand new because it splashes from the salad precariously stabbed on a fork. You feel like you got fat overnight. You realize that you don't have nearly as much money as you thought you did. You just read through this whole list, related to most of it, and now feel even worse.

I wish my hair would do that

Top Bore

So the finale of my favorite show was on last night, and the girl won which was obvious and good but the show itself kinda sucked – don’t you agree?! It was totally boring, no big twist, no big fight, no big nothing. They all cooked decent food, the judges ate it, everyone was happy. Boring. I might as well be watching the NBA finals. They need to step it up, like maybe borrow from other popular shows and hook them up to a lie detector test while they are answering judges’ questions… “Was this really how you intended for the pork shoulder to be braised?” “Um, yes?” EEEEEEEEHHHHH, that answer is FALSE. Or maybe have dancing celebrities come on and make them perform a partner dance that is an interpretation of their food. At any rate I was a little disappointed. Luckily, Kathy Griffen is coming back in a big way so I have something to look forward to this summer. Thank you BRAVO.

Just because

Quick Tabloid Summary

For you folks who prefer the abbreviated version... Madonna and Guy Ritchie...are they or aren't they? I'd prefer if they would just get divorced already. Ever since they got married Madge has been wearing Laura Ashley floral dresses and giving book readings to 4 year olds at Barnes and Nobles near you. It's time for the old Madge to reemerge. I'm talkin' cone boobs. I'm talkin' bedding up with bad artist boys like Jean Michel Basquiat. Well, he's dead, but still...

Denise and Charlie...should they vaccinate the kids? They are seriously fighting about this, and they have involved lawyers. How about you adopt out the kids and put them out of their misery instead? I'm not gonna lie, that's a low blow. I'm kinda team Denise, as much of a ho-bag as she is. She's funny as hell and she swears like a trucker. And she lives with her dad. Gotta love it.

The iPhone is re-released. For half the price. For the launch, Steve Jobs has lost half his body mass in celebration.

Brody Jenner is Bruce Jenner's son! I know, this is not news, I just put two and two together...

Diddy is changing his name again. He should change it to Fuddy Dickpuff, that's my suggestion.

They're makin' a Smurfs movie!! We should pitch kvetchette as the newest smurfette!!!! If anyone knows Sassette's agent, let me know.

Sorry if I missed some major issues. It's thundering outside like god is about to smote me down, my dog is whimpering, H-ette is snoring, I've had two glasses of wine and a Jello pudding snack, and it's all I am capable of right about now...

Even the Zohan loves Dyson...

I'm thinking the Zohan will be replacing Chuck Norris - he's seems way more bad-ass and plus he's way Jewier.

This is what an Eagleman looks like...

Facebook

The Internets are truly a wonderful adventure. Every day there's some new website to check out, some new portal with access to useless information and pictures. (Not this site, of course - this site is pure educational genius). But take Facebook for example. This is not the first website of its kind, but the first one that seems to have reached a cross-generational market. I first was "found" on Facebook by my uncle Morris in Toronto. Much unlike Myspace, where the first person who found me was Amanda Lepore, trannie superstar.

So in the last couple of days, I've been connected with numerous high school friends whom I haven't spoken to in over a decade (short of a few minutes here or there at a ten year reunion). Now I get to see pictures of these people today, check out their children (yes, they all have children - I seem to be the only one holding on to my independence and my uterus) and their husbands and wives (I have one of those, thank you - husband I mean, not wife) and see all their friends. It's really quite spectacular, really. I mean, who needs to actually be "friends" with anyone these days? You can just hang out online all day and be who ever you feel like being that day. You can amass as many "friends" as will accept your request, you can pretend to like whatever music you feel like, you can even put fake pictures of yourself. It's truly your world, the rest of us are just clicking through it.

So go join Facebook, and seek me out. I'll be your friend. I promise to post useless, mundane comments on your "wall" and send you fun cybergifts, like Louis Vuitton bags that are really just pictures, and not really bags that you can do anything with. Grayt! And sometimes I will even surprise you with memories of our childhood together - memories I'm quite sure you have spent a lot of years trying to forget, which is the probably the reason we haven't spoken since we were twelve in the first place.

Nyay Babies!

More congratulations today. My brother in law is officially an Eagleman.



That means he swam 1.2 miles, rode a bike for 56 miles and then ran for 13.1 miles. In 100 degree weather. What did your fat ass do this weekend?

Slow news day

Forget the fact that we're still at war, we're looking at the most important election of our time and the economy is in serious peril, the Daily News is reporting on the real urgent issues of the day. That Spitzer call girl goes to the beach... Check her out, there are even more pics at nydailynews.com

The other issue I have with this, besides the fact that it's totally gratuitous and pointless, is that they identify the woman with her as her mom. Seriously, is that her mom or like her "Momma" - as in whore house Madam...? She's hot and looks likes she's 22, I wonder if she's hookin too.

Stupid celeb gives kid another stupid name

Jessica Alba names her kid Honor. Dumb. I guess that she was feeling honored to have a child and all but if you start naming kids with emotions your feeling at the birth, you could be in trouble... think about it.


Oh but I decided I want to name my future kid Shia. Boy or girl I don't really care. So I'm officially putting you on notice, don't steal my baby name, copy your own celebrity names! Ignore that fact that it's Arabic and means "followers" - sort of lame, would be better if it meant something like "kick-ass" or "kvetchy" but I guess there's no Arabic word for Kvetch.

Way to go Pants!

Congratulations, way to have a job Mr. Senior Editor! Party tonight!!!

Show me the money

I have spent a small fortune this weekend. Husbandette jetted off to Montauk for a boys weekend with a slew of married men (and a couple of lonely single stragglers) for fishing, steak dinners and trying to see if these married men still had any game (for the record, they didn't...although they were told that married men are more appealing because they are committed which apparently means they've "grown up" or something. Doesn't make sense to me, but what do I know). Anyway, while husbandette was off gallivanting in the Hamptons, I was at home spending his money. I went out with the sole intent of purchasing a reasonably priced patio set because if you are going to live in the burbs (check) and you have a big backyard (check) you need a table and chairs so that when your friends come over and visit (at your request, insisting they travel from the far reaches of the city) you shouldn't make them stand around while they eat their hamburger. Fine.

Well this is no easy task. Finding patio furniture that doesn't cost as much as a small car is a feat in and of itself. All I wanted was four damn chairs and a table to slap some food down on. Starting at $1000 - this is what this crap costs. So I gave up on the patio search and instead I spent $500 on some cute dresses (I needed them for work, I swear!) and some tchotchkes for the house. Oh, and I bought h-ette a grill cookbook and a grill pan so he can bbq for me and we can stand around and eat it.

Seriously, though, between filling up my tank of gas for $80, the $150 I spent on groceries, the stupid patio set, I need to know how middle America affords to live these days. Like, we're just two people, so it's not like I'm feeding a family of four or anything. I'm buying four stupid outdoor chairs and a 48" table and I think twice about purchasing it because it just seems so frivolous. How the hell do Americans afford to live anymore??

Today I bought the stupid patio set anyway, b/c what the hell, right? I mean, you only live once, so you might as well be able to sit down and smell the roses (which we don't have because I can't maintain a garden for the life of me). But I'm telling you, consider this an open invitation to all readerettes - people better come over this summer and let us bbq for you, god damnit, or else H-ette is gonna be really mad at me.

Big Bust

Pants and I had no plans this weekend, so we figured we should head down to the Belmont Stakes.  It's like I can't freaking escape from sports , I hope he appreciates sporty I am.  So we hop on the LIRR and the ride is a breeze, can't wait to get there and see history in action since Big Brown is a sure thing to take the Triple Crown.  So we arrive around 3 and head up in a hurry to put our money down - 2/5 odds so we won't make a lot but whatever it's free money, everyone says he's going to win.  I even buy a couple $2 tickets for a few people just to save because the first Triple Crown in 30 years is sure to be worth something.  Of course almost instantly as we enter the betting building we are overcome with heat.  No air-conditioning, not a fan in sight, but what we do see are hoards of sweaty drunk people.  So we wait in a 15 minute long line to get some water and beers, $30 later we take a stroll around.  For some inexplicable reason the floors are all wet and muddy and there is no air circulating in this place. We go outside to scope a spot to watch the race right by the post, we figure there will be plenty of room when we come back so we stroll around some more.  Surprisingly there's nothing to do there but bet on horses and drink beer, Pants decides he needs more cash so we wait in another line and I'm not kidding it was 45 minutes to the front - ridiculous.  I won't even start on the line for the women's room, I held it all day and we heard the men's room broke down, so guys were lining up to piss in a trash can  - no joke, see above.  Finally we're about an hour away from the big race so we head back outside and sneak up as far in the front as we can without being blinded by the sun.  I can't see the track of course since I'm like 5 foot nothing but I can see the one video screen they have.  Takes forever for the race to  start so you have a lot of time to explore your surroundings, I was surrounded by B.O.  Insane BO, not just limited to one guy next to me, it was everybody, girl BO, boy BO, black BO, white BO... all sorts or hideous smells mixing together and wafting up to my nostrils.  Finally we hear the horn sound and they are off, at this point everyone in front of me stands up so now my little view of the screen is gone and I just have to listen to the crowd to find out what's happening.  At least he'll win and I get money I think, that will make up for all the sweating and smelling.  But no, the freaking horse that had the worst odds takes the prize and Big Brown comes in dead last.  The masses all groan and turn to the exit, that's when the real shit starts.  We get pinned up in a line of thousands of people trying to exit this place.  We were literally trapped between bodies and people were getting trampled.  No one was protected, old men and women with walkers be dammed, it was every drunk ass for himself while a line of cops just stood around and watched the whole thing.  Half the crowd was taunting the cops for doing nothing while people were climbing over fences and falling off railings.  It took a full hour just to exit.  We finally got on a train and made it back to the city before darkness fell.  So in the end, our horse didn't win, we didn't make money, we didn't see history and we barely made it out alive.  I am so freaking done with sports. Nothing good can come of it. 

After this, can we be done?

Pants made me suffer through the first game of the final series of the professional basketball challenge or whatever, it was Lakers vs Celtics. I guess there was a lot of action and it wasn’t completely boring, and I was glad that Boston won because I hate the Lakers and stupid rapist Kobe Bryant who isn’t even hot so I don’t understand all the hype around him. I guess he’s good at shooting and stuff but seriously that’s it. My point is, after this world series or whatever it is, I want a break from sports TV in my house. Before the professional series it was college basketball, and there are like a hundreds games before they decide the winner, and in between that was hockey, and before both it was football and I’m freaking over it. And now he’s talking some shit about baseball season but enough is enough. He gives me shit for my puny ½ hour little reality show, but these freaking games last four hours long. WTF?! Can’t we just watch the last 15 minutes when the whole thing is decided anyway? After basketball, I’m seriously making a new rule. You can watch sports but it’s limited to one hour increments, three per week. That’s it. You want to watch the whole game, then DVR that shit and break it up throughout the week, it will be more suspenseful that way – just don’t read papers or watch news or anything. And with all the extra free time that you now have, you can help clean the house and go out shopping to buy me nice shiny things, that fit on fingers!