Happy New Year

For those of you who are confused why half of your office is not in today - it's Rosh Hashanna, or Rosh Hashana, or Rosh Hashanah, or for us the New Year, or literally Head of the Year. We Jews are so chosen and special that we don't even follow your x many years after Christ calendar - we have our own that's way older and better, we're partying like it's the year 5769. Forget fancy fireworks and Dick Clark, we're pulling a horn off an animal and blowing in it to make sounds - hooray for the rosh! I should be one of the Jews taking off work today to "pray" and stuff, which translated into English means, do a drive-by at temple and spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV and eating brisket. But since I took off yesterday to make the freaking brisket, I had to catch up. You'll notice some people trying to "work the Jew system" by taking tomorrow off too - it's technically still the holiday but nobody really observes that part. It's all leading up to our most hated holiday - Yom Kippur, next week, where we fast all day. Fake-ass Jews will try to cheat and still drink stuff, or only eat non-delicious foods, but us hard-core tribe members go the full day - no food, no drink, no helpful drugs. We repent for our sins (will be a long day for me), ask for forgiveness for our wrong-doings (again, long shitty day) and fast and at the end the big guy decides if we're good to go for another year. Anyway, that's what I'm looking forward to next week. Today I'll celebrate the new year by leaving work 3 hours early.

Good Yuntiff, everyone.

I’m less funny in chicago

Pants and I were in chi-town this weekend for a little architecture, a bit of lake and a touch of romance. All were lovely. While New Yorker’s were drowning in record-level rain storms, we were basking in the glow of Illinois sunshine. I know that doesn’t sound normal – the weather in Chicago is mostly ass with wind and freezing temps, but we lucked out and it was fab. And since I know you expect interesting recaps of my activities, I’m trying to sit here and come up with something funny to say about it. But everyone we encountered was so freaking nice that I don’t have anything to complain about. Every waiter we met in the whole city was so smiley and happy to be alive and serve us – I can’t even complain about how happy they were because the shear power of their un-obnoxiousness blew my crappy attitude out the window. There were lots of other surprising great things about the weekend:

• Lots of stuff was free: We strolled into the zoo without a ticket booth in sight. There’s something about seeing a gorilla poop up close for free that is exhilarating.
• They have a beach! I know crazy shit right?! I guess it’s a lake, but there was a huge sandy stretch of nice beach to chillax on. If only they had those straggly guys pimping Coronas stomping around the beach it would be perfect.
• You look way skinny reflected in that weird Tiffany bean thing in Millennium Park.
• Ooh, I won 27 dollars with a scratch off lotto ticket – nice huh – that never happens in NYC.

I guess if I HAD TO complain about something I could come up with a few thoughts…

• They put whole pickles and tomatoes on their hot dogs – ew
• Proximity to clients is a total downside, luckily I didn’t bump into them
• “Extreme” lake speedboat tour was slightly less extreme than say an annoying stop-and-go bus ride across town
• No Oprah sightings, although I did see that little guy that Kelly Ripa is married too, he’s cute

Although it was a great weekend, I'm happy to report that with just a day back in NY, I'm already feeling like my old curmudgeon self. I'm sure tomorrow's post will be much more offensive and mean, as per my usual.

Dinner with the Jews = lots of kvetching

So 1 decided to put her best culinary face forward and host a little Rosh Hashanah din last night. She scooped up sisette and bro-in-law-ette and of course Angel Baby, and Lawyerette and her husband, who apparently is referred to as big headette. And friendette who is going on a date with a Blew (black Jew) and of course H-ette and yours truly. It was a great night of food, folks and fun. Between 1's fantastic brisket and multiple potato choices (there were three) as well as homemade matzo ball soup (that's how she "rolls") and the intense political banter, I think we managed to eke in a blessing over wine somewhere or other, before the bottles were sucked dry. But, while none of us ended up in $250/seat synogogue services today (available through Ticketmaster), we did it up proper, kvetching about Jewish McCain supporters and of course thinking of reasons we should participate in the Great Schlep even though none of us have Bubby's in Florida.

Anyway, today is a new day...a New Year, actually...between the political train wreck and the financial world joker-fest, who knows what each new day holds for us anymore - it's anyone's game...go enjoy your day off and your family. Happy Challadays, readerettes. We glove Jew. Amen.

Road Trippin'

So maybe you have a Bubby in Florida. Maybe you don't...but humor me - today you do. You don't get to see very much of her, mostly because Florida is one of those weird places that's too far away and it kind of seems like a waste of a vacation to go there when for the same amount of money and air travel time you can be in the Caribbean, and well, that sounds so much more interesting and hot and the drinks are probably better (if you like pina coladas...). But Bubby is still in Florida and she kvetches about everything when you talk to her, mostly because she wants to use her powers of Jew Guilt to get you to come down to the Miami retirement community and play shuffleboard so she can show you off to her Canasta pals, how pretty you are, how successful, look what expensive shoes you wear...you know the deal. Bragging rights are a birthright down in the promised land of Florida.

As if you needed a reason, here's a damn good one. Obama needs that Florida vote like Sarah Palin needs half a brain. So get your powers of persuasion on, and get down there and bribe some old Jews to get out there and vote Obama. Do it. Do it for your country. Do it for the Jews.

Check out Sarah Silverman's Great Schlep message above. It rawks.

Laughter is the best medicine

except when you snort while doing it. I've been known to, on occasion, emit a nasal rendition of a gurgle when laughing at something. Those near and dear to me find it endearing. Or at least, don't find it offensive. Today, however, those whom I work with got to experience a dose of my laughing prowess, albeit candidly. Mid meeting on a Friday, around a conference table with no fewer than 9 co-workers talking about home decor and how tattoos on a model in a home furnishings advertisement send a positive message during a bad economic time, someone says something funny (and no, it wasn't the comment about tattoos, but it should have been). Laughter ensues. Well yours truly, exhausted and elated because TFGIF (that's "thank f-ing god it's friday") lets out a big, loud, whooping laugh followed by a mammoth of a snort. And the whole table went into cardiac arrest. The CEO actually told everyone to go ahead and get an early start on the weekend. It was that deafening and awkward.

Thank you very much. I will be here all week.

Whatever.

So nobody wants to take me up on the guest post offer. I see how it is. Well you know what? We changed our minds anyway. We don't want you to post. Because as our tag line CLEARLY states, we complain so you don't have to. So there you have it. Don't lift a finger, readerettes. Just live vicariously through our hilarious minds. Use them and abuse them, r-ettes. Because someday we'll be smote with plagues like memory loss and Alzheimer's (or give excuses like smoking pot to aid our osteoporosis) and won't be nearly as funny as we are today. The well will dry up at some point. Happy Hump Day.

In completely non-news...

Clay Aiken announces he's gay.



Here are some other shocking headlines of the day:

• I like chocolate
• Pants wears shorts sometimes
• Angel baby is cute
• Vacations are fun
• Sarah Palin is scary

Why I'm wasting away in PR and not working as a high-powered investigative reporter, I do not know.

Best of the Kvetch

You are a true New Yorker when:

There are many lists out there that verify all the situations you have to experience before you are considered a "true" New Yorker.

The Kvetchettes would like to give you our own list. Please feel free to comment with additional bullets you deem relevant for this topic.

You are a tried and true, jaded and real New Yorker when you:

1. Have been in a cab expecting to be driven from point A to point B, and been told quite matter-of-factly by the cab driver that you should just get out and take the subway; there's too much traffic and he doesn't feel like sitting in it.


2. When you are in a bodega ordering your Boar's Head special sandwich, and the "house cat" traverses unimpeded through the premises likes he owns the place, and guess what; he sort of does, or at least he owns the mice that he kills so they don't end up in your Boar's Head special. And no one blinks an eye.


3. Have had a sidewalk encounter with a rat the size of the cat mentioned above, and he literally stares you down and tells you to give him your Boar's Head sandwich.


4. Have waited in line outside on the sidewalk (close to where the rat encounter took place) for forty minutes in minus thirty temperatures, to finally get to the front of the line and pay the bouncer $40 for entry in order to get inside, pay another $8 to check your coat, an extra $4 to check your scarf (because they charge individually for each item even if they go on one hanger) and then traverse over to the bar to pay $15 for a watered down, kids-cup sized vodka tonic.


5. Have paid over $18 for a burger, over $8 for french fries and over $16 for a glass of wine.


6. Have ordered pot from a delivery service and had the delivery guy show up, sit down on your couch, and ask if he can watch Family Guy.

Play it.

Jewpardy

Business is good...

We're amazed (and proud) to report that it's been just about one year since Kvetchette entered this crazy world with force out of the VJ of yentas everywhere. We can't quite believe it's been a year we've been publicly kvetching. No wait...scratch that. We've been publicly kvetching all our lives - it's why we are so good at doing it for you in this forum. We can't believe it's been a year that we have put our talent to good, lucrative use. No wait...scratch that. It's not lucrative yet. We have one lonely Googles ad, of whose revenue I have no idea because I forgot the login and password I created to set it up. So technically, I guess our thousands of readers could be clicking on that one, lone, revolving Carvel/Hershey's gifts/online accounting ad and we could have some unclaimed fortune sitting somewhere in an account out at the Googles offices. Or maybe not. Maybe we don't even have enough revenue for a box of Munchkins. I like to think it's the former. I guess it's kind of more exciting to let that check build, so that's what we'll do. But in the meantime we'll continue to do what we do best. Which is shop. No wait...scratch that. It's kvetch.

We'd like to take this week leading up to our true anniversary to share with you some of our favorite posts of yore. We'd also like to take this week to "have a laugh," in a Ricky Gervais kind of way, at some of your kvetches. So send 'em in, readerettes. Send us your guest posts to kvetchette@gmail.com - and consider yourself a part of Internets history. And as if you needed reminding- nothing is off limits. So get on your Palin bandwagons and get to typin'.

I'm a fat pig and here's why...

I don't know why we haven't addressed this before, because it's a topic of great interest to me, but I'm sitting here thinking about how I want a chocolate bar and trying to figure out which one to get. So I'm debating the merits of all my favs in my head. And why keep something in my head when I can share it with all of you.

Snickers obviously is in the top 5. Reasons why? 1. It really satisfies you. 2. Such a good mix of important candy bar ingredients including, chocolate (obvi), peanuts, mystery nougat and caramel. 3. Excellent in ice cream form. Downside to the snickers, it's just a lot you know, you feel kinda like a pig eating a whole snickers. So you opt for those "fun size" tiny ones, but they are so delicious and small you end up eating 12, which is like eating a whole bar and half anyway. So that's a little annoying.

The Milky Way is an excellent snickers alternative - nice caramel / nougat balance there. But nothing crunchy. I like a nice mix of textures in my candy, so this won't do.

Take5 is a newcomer, but deserves some recognition. Have you had this one? It's a combo of five main components. Pretzels, covered in peanut butter, with peanuts, covered in caramel, covered in chocolate. The benefit here obviously is the marriage of salty and sweet. I'll enjoy a Take5 in a pinch, but it's not my top choice, the peanuts I think are gratuitous. Too much chewing required, candy indulgence should be a leisurely activity.

Then you have the 3 Musketeers. Lots of good mystery nougat here - and slightly fewer calories than the other guys. But again, no satisfying crunch and what's with the name? Who are the musketeers and why are there three of them?

OOH, my ultra fav is the Whatchamacallit. These aren't so easily sourced, but so awesomely delicious. I have no idea what's in it, so I had to check the Hershey's site. Apparently it's "peanut-flavored crisp candy," covered in caramel and then dipped in chocolate. What I love here is of course the ridiculous name and the fact that they don't even pretend to have real ingredients like whole peanuts - they are rockin the peanut flavor. Brillz.

I have to throw a bone to Raisinets. Raisins are like gross, shriveled up old grapes that get a new life covered in thick chocolate. Instantly more delicious! Very nice mixed with hot popcorn at the movies.

I was just about the wrap up when I remembered Twix and his kid brother, Kit Kat - HELLO?!?!!? They are both awesomely good tasting. Only downside is like you basically have to share them. They can too easily be divided, so if you open one in front of some greedy person you like have to offer them some. These are best for private dining.

Emails Sarah Palin was able to erase before the hack job

Did you hear that Palin's email was hacked today and they published a bunch of her personal correspondence?! Awesome right. I mean no one is freaking safe on the interwebs, but of course I have no freaking sympathy for her. This bitch might actually be running the country so we need to blow up her spot and get it all out there. Thing is she's smart (or the GOP machine is) and they got to some of the juicier emails before the hackers could. But your ettes were able to hunt them down.  Here are some of the subject lines:

• Re: State trooper firing coverup campaign details
  
• Your Lipstick Color of the Month Club delivery is on it's way to you
• AMAZON.com: "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Foreign Policy" order received 
• Re: Fw: Re: Re: Mom, there's something I need to tell you...
• Moose Hunters Association of Alaska monthly meeting scheduling
• Netflix: Your Order of "An Inconvenient Truth" Will Be Delivered by September 4th
• McDaddy here, not sure quite how this electronic letter mailing service works but my wife bought me a blackbetty device...
• AMAZON.com: "Zen and the Art of Hockey" order received
• AMAZON.com "Baby Mama DVD" order received
• Re: Re: Honeybell, the eldest looka like she getting fat

Reason #18 that Israel rocks

Challah at your dogs - at least that's what a Tel Aviv suburb will be doing, now that they are using DNA to test doggie poo that has been neglected on sidewalks, streets and public parks. Check this concept out:

1. You take your dog to the vet and they swab Spot's mouth for DNA which they program into the system. (Hopefully, Spot isn't the pimp of the town, or else you just signed your dog up for paternity proof and puppy support payments for all the bitches he humped, but that's a minor side effect of the project - we'll assume pooch has manners...)
2. You continue to do your doodoo diligence and pick up after Spot's number shtayims. You drop the shtayims in special receptacles and the doggie DNA people reward you with free stuff and coupons and doggie swag. Major score for doing what you do anyway, right?
3. Should you forget to pick up the doggie shtayim because you are too busy fighting with your boyfriend on your iPhone, wondering where you left your army rifle last, rubbing Ahava onto your hands and you don't want to get them dirty...whatever. Point is, the poo police are coming for ya. 911 style. They scoop the poop, take it back to the lab, and fine your ashen for the mess.

Point is...Israeli's are smart. And their streets are clean. And working on a kibbutz is sort of like Big Love except they sometimes grow their own food too and they don't shtup each other's spouses (at least not the ones I've visited). So Israel is officially on the list of possible places to move the family (including Leia the Wunderdog) should this country lose it's mind in 6 short weeks...

Just like the SAT's...

McCain is to the invention of the Blackberry as:

a) OJ is to truth telling
b) Britney Spears is to "live" singing performances
c) Steak is to vegetarianism
d) Sarah Palin is to feminism
e) all of the above

H E L P

Something is happening to me. I think I need help. Consider this a cry for help -- me reaching out to you.

I think I am experiencing a third life crisis.

I just watched three episodes in a row of the 90210 remake.

Cringe.

Let me tell you about my sporting adventure

Schlepped out to my hometown this weekend to see a Phillies game with the fam.

I honestly couldn’t tell you who they played (they were wearing blue and gray), but my team won – so we’re happy.

Here’s how an Ette experiences sports.

Game time:3:55

1 and Pants arrive at about 4:45. We missed kick-off (or whatever they say about starting a baseball game), but that’s fine because these things go on forever so the first 3 innings don’t mean much.

Before we find our seats we look for snacks – obvi. Pants enjoys a hot dog and I pulled some popcorn out of a bucket in the food service line, but it was stale, so I folded the box right up and left without it. I got a lemonade instead and a pretzel for my dad, but eat the end parts because he probably won’t want them.

We find our seats. I momentarily fight off the feeling of vertigo or nausea, or whatever from being so high up.

It’s muggy – I mention that to my sister. There’s also no breeze, I mention that as well. She’s reading her New Yorker.

They do that find the baseball under the hat (shell game) thing on the jumbo tron. I vote for 3, it was under 2.

Ooh the Phanatic comes out, he’s dancing, that’s fun.

Some baseball happens, one guy gets a hit, but someone catches it, so nothing happens.

On the jumbo tron some guy proposes to his girlfriend. Obviously I’m not happy for them. Plus how lame is it to get engaged at the baseball game?! Don’t get any ideas Pants. Well go ahead and get engagement ideas, but not during sports.

I’m starting to feel a little peckish, time to look for food again. We get in line for cheesestakes, but it takes too long, we eat funnel cake instead.

Then half a hot dog

And a slice of pizza

Ooh the crowd is cheering, someone did something good.

Then we had to get ice cream, cause it comes in that little hat/cup. So cute.

We make it back to our seats finally.

7^th inning stretch, that was fun I guess.

Then they did the thing on the jumbo tron where they search the audience for couples who kiss. Pants and I kiss but they didn’t find us.

It’s hot, so I stop touching Pants. I remind my sister how hot and muggy it is.

Phanatic is out again, he’s doing a funny dance. Wow, he must be hot in there. I say to my sister, “think he’s hot in that thing?”

I’m thinking about revisiting the snack bar, but the thing ends. I guess we won, yay.

We head out in the direction of our car. Dad decides we’re going the wrong way – he’s looking for Packer ave. We ask people where Packer ave is – and they point a long way away. We go in that direction. This looks wrong. It’s getting dark. Wait Dad says, I meant Patterson. Patterson is way away in the other direction. We go back where we came. It’s now cold and dark. We drive home in silence.

Tonight the Eagles play. I ordered Fresh Direct, should be fun.

Puddles + Vehicles = Superiority Complex

I need to know why drivers or operators of vehicles, when faced with an upcoming puddle, choose to speed up and veer directly into the path of the pond instead of going around it. But yet only do this when there are pedestrians present. Like it's their god given right to super soak your ass because they are behind the wheels of steel and your stupid self is hiding beneath a pocket-fold umbrella you bought on the street for $5 with three of the spokes poking out in a menacing fashion, and you're wearing open toed espadrilles. WTF?

These people are:

1. Predominantly drivers of vehicles that have things hanging from their rear view mirror.
2. The kind of folk who don't own espadrilles, don't know what they are, don't care.
3. The same people who have multiple McCain/Palin stickers across their bumper.
4. The people who have monster golf umbrellas hidden somewhere in their big rigs for just such a day. (Making them also the people who have zero umbrella etiquette - see archived umbrella post)
5. The people who's children do such things in public places as throw stadium-sized hissy fits in the Entenmann's aisle at Stop and Shop, who think cutting into their skin with paper clips is fun and a way to curb boredom, and who are at this very moment, probably having unprotected sex on their parent's couch in the 'ole family room.

I'm arming myself with rocks from now on. Your windshield won't know what hit it.

I'm a 12-year-old boy and this made me laugh

Speaking of Palin

It would be un-citizen-like of me to not make a stink about Ms. Palin's educational track record. Britney Spears has a better educational resume than this loserette. I'm curious how this woman has ANY qualifications to be the literal heartbeat away from leader of the free world when it took "Ms. Party-in" SIX YEARS and FIVE SCHOOLS to get her undergraduate degree.

Now, let's talk about this for a minute. Yours truly enjoyed college. I mean ENJOYED college. Sex, drugs and rock and roll style (sorry H-ette, put on your earmuffs). I spent many a night in the local dive bar watering hole, smoking Parliaments and drinking whiskey sours till the last call sirens. I partied with the best (and worst) of them. I had a realization the other day (or maybe just a bad dream, I still can't figure out if it was fact or fiction) that I forgot about a class I was signed up for for an entire semester...just neglected it all together. I sort of think this was a dream, but still. Point is, I smoked a lot of reefer, it does funny things to your memory. AND - I GRADUATED IN FOUR YEARS, WITH HONORS.

People of America - or at the very least, Readerettes...this woman went to school in Hawaii. No one who is serious about anything short of surfing and sex on the beach goes to school in Hawaii. You can put that on the record. Again - she is a HEARTBEAT AWAY FROM THE PRESIDENCY...oh, and she's never left North America. Sweet.

I leave you with that. There's not even a clever punch line I can regurgitate to make this post resonate with you through your lunchtime chicken wrap. This should be good enough. Go to your water cooler, fellow ettes, and discuss.

Forget about the weave...

...can we talk about Lindsay's pancake boob for a minute?? See picture from previous post. When did pit-breast cleavage become cool? Girlfriend dissed her stylist Zoe-Raisin face, and probably for good reason - but it's time to hire a replacement. This boob problem is unacceptable. If I left the house with my tits hanging onto my ribcage for dear life, with everyone in my peripheral vision getting a peep show, I'd probably get an eyebrow (or twenty) raised at me. Samantha needs to be a good girlfriend and help her lady out. This is just wrong. Not Sarah-Palin-wrong, but close.

Unbe-weave-able

I'm aware that not every lady was blessed with thick, full, lucious hair with ample natural curl like myself - and I feel for you, truly I do. Hair is our crowning glory, it's what sets us apart and helps create sex-appeal. You maybe can't do anything about your fat ass but you can take a hot iron to your head and rock some sleek locks for an instant self-esteem boost. But celebs live under different rules - they have the money to get their weave right, and I am so over seeing long, fake-ass extentions on these bitches. Case-in-point, see Brit Brit and Lohan below. I've added helpful arrows so you can see where their real hair stops and identifying the fake hair. Brit at least has an excuse, the whole head-shaving incident - but it's grown out enough for a fun bob by now. And Lohan has no freaking excuse. Lesbian's don't even wear their hair long so this weave has to go. That's not homophobic, it's just stating a fact. Kvetchette pronouncement: Hair extentions are over. Do not get them, if you have them, get them removed. They look stupid.

okay, alright, I get it. I'm flattered.

Glad to hear I've been missed. It's flattering, really. It's been a rough week. Ya'll have heard that before, we have frequent ones around here these days. But when life gives you lemons, sister soldia over here makes lemon martinis. Anyone care for a drink?

1 gave me a good idea, though. I neglected a very important kvetch upon my return from Philly. The Cheesesteak. This is a rite of passage in Philadelphia. These Italian mobster guys compete for the longest line outside their joint, and I have to say, it's pretty worth it - the 3 hours you might wait for a taste of the goodness, that is.

What is that goodness, you ask? I'm sure you've all had a cheesesteak, but I can vouch that unless you have had one in Philly (or in Yankee stadium) you have tasted an impostor. Yup, that's right. Your shaved meats and cheeses on a roll may have tasted good, but probably weren't the heart attack inducing delights you would feast upon in Fat-a-delphia.

Nope. In Fat-a-delphia, it's WIT WIZ. (that means wit onions and wiz.) A big fat, carb loaded roll, drenched in cheese whiz that is literally dripping through the doughy pores. Then they slap in some meats - grade D beef, shredded to within an inch of its life and then they mix in some onions for good measure, because onions are a vegetable, right? So maybe you won't feel SO fat. And then they dollop you off with a little more whiz. Like the maraschino cherry on the top of a sundae.

After you've waited for hours for this tasty treat, you savor each delectable bite until you are licking processed whiz from out of your finger nails. Which you'll be doing for about 2.5 days, FYI.

And then the stomach turning starts.

Skip to the loo, my darlin'.

And someone please remind me to stick to treats like Rita's water ice the next time I visit the city of Brotherly Love. Especially prior to a 2 hour drive back to the NYC. With H-ette. And AM radio.

Joke of the Day

Pants called in to Kvetchette central this morning to contribute a joke. (Apparently he stole this from Sarah Silverman - enjoyable none-the-less)


What did the waiter say to the table of Jewish women?

"Is anything ok here?"

OK, 2 time to return

Sometimes 1 has a bad week or a little much-needed and well-deserved vacation, and during those brief times 2 fills in for her with sprightly blog posts that entertain us all. And sometimes 2 has a bad week or a little honeymoon, and in those times, 1 fills in for her. But 2, it seems, is taking advantage. She is neither on vacation nor having a bad week as far as I can tell. In fact I happen to know her only current complaint is bloating from overdoing it on the cheese steaks in Philadelphia this weekend. So where is she you ask, why is she not blogging about the benefits of greasy, griddle cooked meets on soft Philly-style rolls slathered in Cheese Whiz? I can't answer that for you readers. I can only appeal to her here, in this most public forum, and beg her to come back. And remind her, it's freaking Fashion Week and I'm busy, get your ass back on the computer and write about something funny. Thank you.

People I don't like

I'm back with an addition to my list of people that really bug me. I won't say I hate him, because I know nothing about him outside of his TV personality. My issue is really more about bad casting than anything else. I just can't stand the main guy from Entourage. There is nothing about him that says "movie star sex symbol." He's the hairiest man in Hollywood, next to Robin Williams, but at least Mork keeps it shaved. He looks like he's never seen the inside of a gym and he has basically zero charisma. I was watching the season premiere last night and just couldn't get over how "nothing special" he is. So I don't understand how viewers are supposed to believe he's this incredibly rich film star who lives on an island with 14 unbelievably hot lesbians who want to do it all the time. So obviously I had to share in the hopes that some of you would think to yourselves - "Oh yeah, that guy does seem kind of lame and what's with the beard - not hot." And then I will feel validated. You see bringing a little bit of negativity into your lives is what I live for. Now go on and think about who else annoys you and please share the bad vibes with us in the comment section. We'll likely agree, we basically don't like anyone.

Dumb things NY parents pay for

Bro-in-law was injured today, I think he twisted his ankle while he was running into a Dunkin Donuts for a french crawler, and sisette was in school being a first class teacher's pet (she brought candy in for the class - uh huh geek.), so I filled in and took Angel Baby to her swim lessons.  That's right I took my 1-year-old niece to swim class.  I plopped her into a baby pool filled with piss and 6 other tots who can barely hold their heads up let alone Michael Phelps it across the pool.  It's basically a glorified bath with an instructor and it's a colossal waste of time. We spent half the lesson trying to teaching her things we probably don't want her to do, like jump off the edge and splash the water.  Then at the end, the instructor pushed all their little surprised and scared faces under the water.  They come up all red-eyed and chocking and hysterical.  What exactly are we teaching them there - going under water is terrifying?!  Excellent, I'm glad we forked over 500 bones for this experience. Smart. 

Let's talk about what's wrong with her

1. Never been outside the US - um yeah, no problem for her to basically run the free world, Detroit is like Beruit right? When McCain was asked if he thinks she's ready to be president he said "100% yes - plus Obama has never even been to South America!" So what's the point he's making there - you don't have to be world-savvy to be president or you should be - because apparently Obama isn't ready to lead...
2. Her kids names: Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig - that's right Trig - like your most hated math subject.
3. Her special needs child especially needed a crib last night, cause it was mighnight and they were still bouncing this poor baby around on stage.
4. Palin is governor of Alaska, our least important state.
5. The whole being investigated for corruption thing.
6. She's CRAZY
7. She admits to smoking pot but claims she didn't enjoy it - Um LIAR - everyone enjoys it that's why they make it illegal like all the other good drugs.
   

Please vote Obama

You know what really grinds my gears...

People like her.

I caught a bit of Regis and Kelly the other morning when I was on vaca and she was going on about her fat thighs and how they rub together when she walks. I'm all for self-deprecating humor - but when it's freaking true. This bitches thighs don't rub together - I bet they don't even touch when she crosses her legs. She is nothing but skin and bones - so really fat jokes? I don't get it and I don't know who appreciates that kind of bs. I know she's trying to be an "every woman" - she's just like you, she has insecurities, and celulite. But uh, no she freaking doesn't. Why doesn't she joke about how her hip bones sometimes annoyingly rip holes in the side of her pants because they are so jagged and not covered by body fat. That I could laugh at. Just stop it Kelly - you are skinny - too skinny. Let's save the fat jokes for the people who need them like Tyra and Orpah.

Chores freaking suck

You know when you move to the big city, you start to see how people operate.  Movers and shakers in NYC like to outsource all the little unpleasantries that make up their daily lives.  (Yeah, I know unpleasantries is not a word but you all got the meaning, so I'm leaving it.  In fact new ette rule - if I write it and someone might get it, it's staying, f/u spellcheck, I'm not outsourcing my spelling.)  Think about all the things you don't do for yourself - house cleaning (maid), laundry (wash & fold), nails (little korean ladies), special massages (little korean ladies) driving (cabs), walking the dog (lazy college kid who needs cash), exercise (lypo) and the list goes on.  But Pants and I are from harder stock - we are not used to paying for people to do our chores for us.  We take them on ourselves (or beg our parents to them for us like you are supposed to).  I can paint my freaking nails and I can vacuum.  And frankly you all can too, which is why I generally look down upon people with servants (like my sister).  At least she has a good excuse, baby and school and full time job and all, but Pants and I certainly don't we've got nothing but free time.  We're not wasting any of our precious non-working hours planning a wedding or anything like that keeping us busy.  We watch TV, so I generally have no excuse not to do my chores myself.  But there is no chore I hate more than laundry, it's a documented fact, read earlier posts!  So imagine my surprise when I was welcomed home today by a plastic trash bag full of stinky, dirty, Pants clothes with a post it note saying "Pretty Please." Is this fucker joking?  Is he outsourcing his laundry to me?  Hell to the no - as my sister Whitney would say.  This is the freaking problem with living in NY for too long.  Neither of us have clean underwear, we're basically just turning them inside out and going for a second use.  My bras have lost all their elasticity, so my D's are not properly supported, and my weekend pants have baby vomit on them from like a month ago. We are officially out of clothes and since I just paid rent and took a fancy vaca and all, I can't afford new ones.  But I can't bring myself to do it.  Instead of doing my wash right now, I'm doing this, wasting my time and watching TV obviously.  For some stupid reason, like all other New Yorkers, I think my time is too valuable to spend on a dumb chore like laundry.  And there are my clothes, just rotting in that basket.  Looking at me.  Thinking I'm lazy.  Well screw it - I'm outsourcing.  I've made the decision.  We are getting a maid - she will do our laundry and the following other unpleasantries:

• Cleaning my hair off the bathroom floor
  
• Washing up where Bam missed the pad
  
• Dusting - who dusts, that's the worst one, so annoying, don't forget under the bed
  
• Putting the clean dishes from the dishwasher away
  
• Cleaning the soot from off the windowsills where Pants secretly smokes thinking the smell goes outside instead of actually being wafted inside from the breeze 
  
• Setting up the DVR to record all my favorite new shows (Gossip Girl, Real World/Road Rules Challenge, Hills obvi)
  

So Mom, see you this weekend, Thanks! 

More qualified than Sarah Palin to be Veep

She wears overalls. She would definitely 'relate' to middle America. And farmers. And Ettes.

He plots some very intricate retaliation schemes. Stewie could take out an enemy with a butter knife, a super soaker and a hair tie.

She comes with her own pink microphone for speaking engagements. That's hottttt.

Did you miss me?

Just say yes so I feel good.  I mean 2 totally rocked it while I was away, you know you were all singing "revved up like a douche in the middle of the night."  But she deserves a creativity break and I will pick up some of the complaining slack.  I am sure you are eager to hear about my exploits over the past week, so here are the lowlights.

Traveled to Tahoe for lawyerette and her big head husband's big wedding day.  Sisette and bro-in-law booked these ridiculous early morning tickets out to Reno.  Apparently there is no direct flight from the East Coast out to Tahoe - what the fuck is that about.  They figured since we were traveling with the wee one, we should get there nice and early and get her all settled in.  So we took a 5:50 am flight, which meant we had to get up at 4 am.  I considered staying up so I could just sleep on the plane, but by 12:30 I got tired and cranky and packed it in.  But here was my concern with the early wake up call.   I have a very delicate system - my body has a routine.  Normally I wake up by about 8:05 and immediately need a pee break.  Then I get dressed and ready for work, have a little sip of water and in about 20 mins I'm ready for a quick poo before I run out the door, late for work as usual.  As long as I don't stray from that

 schedule, I'm in gastrointestinal peace.  But at 4 am, my system is not ready to poo - it's confused and scared and doesn't understand why we are not cuddled in bed.  So I get ready and pack my things, about to leave, but my stomach is in a state of shock.  It knows we've been up for 20 minutes, it enjoyed some cool water, but it's not quite ready to move things along.  So I need to leave to make the flight on time - well then the stomach is really confused and kinda pissed and makes the rest of my morning an unhappy one.  

Anyway, we get to the airport and we had a stop at McD's which set my stomach back on the right course - I can always count on them for that.   We take forever, but finally get through security, they made us take the freaking baby's shoes off - like they are plastic, see-through sandals - aren't we taking this too far guys?!  And upon my insisting we gave her a morning breakfast of cheerios and baby tylenol to get her good and drugged up before take off.  Much to our surprise, Angel Baby stayed true to her name and was a perfect little flyer.  Can't say the same for little Jakey behind us.  Pain-in-the-ass, little shit kid who kicked my seat, whined, cryed and sucked the whole flight.  The thing was if he was like semi-cute I could have dealt - but he was not so it was annoying. 

About a thousand hours later, and a stop in Houston - eww-  we arrive in Reno - better known as the country's litter box.  All hot and sandy and icky.  And its really freaking dry out there.  Your eyeballs are like burning the second you land and the moisture is sucked out of your skin - it's weird and totally uncomfortable. I wanted to bathe in body oil the whole time.  I missed my gross soupy, humid, NY climate. 

We made our way out to Tahoe which is freaking beautiful, the mountains shoot straight up, the sky is blue, the lake is majestic, blah blah. Oh you know what's strange about that place - you will not see a non-white person at all, the entire time.  They were on our flight and hanging at the airport- but not a single one of them made it out to Tahoe. It was bizarro - but I guess a good place if you are a KKK member on vaca.  And people there thought we were french for some reason - so we just went with it.  If blacks aren't allowed in, we figured they wouldn't want a bunch of jooooos there.  

So the week was great, nice hiking on ski slopes, gondola rides, lake, kayak, pools.  I had about as much fun as you can have away with your immediate family for a week without your boyfriend.  No one got hurt - so it was a win win.  The wedding was lovely.  I guess it was called for 5, so my family arrives a respectable 25 minutes late like you're supposed to - well no one else got that memo.  By the time we rolled up, everyone was seated and the processional had already begun.  We didn't notice that of course and were honking to people we recognized in the parking lot, which was situated like right next to the outdoor wedding locale, so we made a big scene and probably annoyed half the guests.  We spent the rest of the ceremony arguing amongst ourselves about the start time - "how could it have been 5, must have 4:30, who arrives on time for a wedding, who starts a wedding on time?"  Then we realized our arguing was disturbing the wedding too, so we clammed up.  But it was beautiful and the couple was happy, so all is well.  I guess they decided not to register but asked for donations

 to some nature charity instead.  But that's bullshit.  The whole reason to get married is to get freaking gifts.  I'll give to charity on my own time thank you very much, you guys are getting a toaster. 

Oh the craziest thing is that there were signs for wildlife around, like bears in the neighborhood and coyotes and stuff and the whole week we were obsessed with seeing some - to no avail.  But then one night at 3 am we hear what sounds like 12, 14-year-old girls screaming bloody murder and then laughing insanely out in the forest.  It went on for 20 minutes, it was horrifying.  I guess it was a pack of coyotes on the hunt.  Awful sound - I missed my comforting city nighttime sounds - the noise of cranky cops shuffling bums off the street, drunken college kids stumbling out of a bar and squeaky trash trucks leaving half the garbage strewed along the block.  

OK, you are probably bored by now, so I'll wrap up.  Check out the pic below - look close.  We don't even know that creepy guy.  Ew.

Did you miss me?