A new way to make pumpkin pie

Happy Turkey Day, readerettes. Enjoy your families. Our incessant complaining will return shortly.

She's taken, fellas

This past Saturday, Ette1 did what she swore on this very blog that she would never have the chance to do. She was convinced, at times, that she would NEVER get married. That she would NEVER have a husband. That she would be an old maid, a spinster, while ALLLLLL of her friends around her got hitched. We all rolled our eyes at her, told her she was crazy, told her that it would happen to her. But Ette1 is a stubborn gal, and she didn't want to hear it. So she kvetched. To all of you.

And now, my friends, she too is hitched. So, readerettes, if I were you, I would be mad at her. Because really, she made you all feel sorry for her, like she was an old hag. She made you feel like she would be alone forever. And yet on Saturday, she sashayed down the Puerto Rican aisle as the most beautiful bride you've ever seen and married her best friend. She glowed. She sparkled (not literally, that would be bad - no, she sparkled figuratively). She grinned ear to ear. She looked like a goddess in her hourglass, trumpet-bottomed gown. Her curls in stunning, island ringlets, her lashes long and sexy. She was a vision. Oh, and Pants cleans up well too. ; )

We danced, we celebrated, we did the hora (which felt much more authentic because there were "real" Israelis there), we got our Jew on. We had a BLAST. We ate amazing foods (hello, Lupi's). We spent rainstorms in hot tubs (pretty fun). We swam with jellyfish (not so fun). We played "Who Am I" while drinking margaritas and laughing our faces off (so fun). It was the perfect wedding weekend.

So let Ette1 know how pissed off you are at her that you wasted your worry on a gal that made the most beautiful bride, a gal who had the sweetest ceremony, a gal who married the love of her life. Because really -- we have bigger fish to fry right now. Like the fact that Oprah is only going to be on television for another 365 days or so. Talk about worry...who will tell us how to feel once she's gone??



(Congrats, Ette1 and Pants. I love Jew both!)

Lost in translation

מי שמבין את החומר הזה

So as you know I'm a big JOOOOOO, and like most members I have assorted family in Israel. We stay connected via our once a decade visit here or there and now through the luxury of technology facebook. Trouble is because they live in a third world country - them JOOOOOs don't talk English. So when I post pics of my adorable niece or my dad they write comments in Hebrew and like most American JOOOOOOs, Hebrew don't mean shit to me and I can't understand those weird looking symbols they write with. So I have to use some Hebrew to English translator online, which also apparently doesn't understand Hebrew, because here's a snippet of some of their translations, for real.

• Family stunning charming little
• Score lovely granddaughter and you good luck Foundation
• Image stunning lovely granddaughter, Ilan, Biondi brother love miss precious Score
• Hey Zion I know a liar would not understand why I'm writing you. I see your photos exciting I miss the lovely Alexandra. Tell everyone that hot hot with kisses.
• How you like my father Score

Calories, shmalories

I don't know about you, but I'm opposed to this whole "nutritional content" divulge we're seeing everywhere. Give me a break, America, will ya? Is it not bad enough that I'm bombarded with ads and directives to work out more, stop eating red meat, quit smoking, work smarter, network faster, make more money, invest that money, live better, wipe my toosh a certain way...that now I'm being assaulted with the reality of how bad everything I eat is.

Seriously...we're going to create a nation of nannypoos if we keep this up. We already force our kids to wear helmets from the second they leave the house until they're hospital tucked into their beds at night. We sprinkle all sorts of weird "supplement" powders into our cereals and pop gingko biloba pills chased with coffee. We friggin wear eskimo boots in NY so our shins don't get frostbitten. Our kids are literally going to be walking around like delicate, Michael Jacksonesque frailties because we put fear into everything we do.

And now, on top of all THAT I have to stress about...now I know that my muffin this morning had 740 calories. Or actually, the muffin I WOULD have had if I didn't see that little bit of info. Instead I had nothing, and suffered the guilt all day of wondering how many calories are in each breath of air I take in.

And honestly...so-friggin-what if that order of medium french fries is 500 calories. They're f-ing French Fries and they taste good...doesn't that count for something?? I know there are "certain people" in "certain parts of our country" that could benefit from some portion control. But seriously, I don't think this is the way to reach them. These are not exactly the folks reading the little grid of nutritional info on products or menus. Those people don't care. They just want their ho-ho milkshakes and fried Snickers bars.

Tomorrow I'm gonna live dangerously and get that muffin. F you, skinny bitches.

I lost my funny

So all I have to share is this...dead fly art. Enjoy.