Color. Me. BLAH.

GUEST POST - Right now my job is eatin' these doughnuts, or maybe...hey, wait a minute. Aren't you...

2011-03-03T11:30:00.000-05:00

Me: Pat Who Thanks God Daily for Yoga Pants, send me some songs you'd put on a mix tape in middle school. I'll ask some other folks to do it, too. And definitely give reasons why. Like a top 5. I think it would be a cool, reoccurring series.

Pat Who Thanks God Daily for Yoga Pants: Ok

AND THIS IS WHAT I RECEIVED....and it's amazing. I might still do the mixtape list, but I had to post this as is. Enjoy the mind that is...Pat Who Thanks God Daily for Yoga Pants.....

So. Fly.

I caught a re-run of Saved By The Bell a couple days ago, and at thirty-one year old, tried explaining to my wife how somehow, I still felt younger than the high school characters on the show. Not younger than Mario Lopez mind you, but AC Slater clad in his Zubos. Now, this isn’t any kind of meta-90210 forty year olds playing high-schoolers joke… I have a hard time explaining that specific feeling, but I’ve come to describe it as The Goonie Corollary.

For me, The Goonies is a sick-day movie. A movie that’s still as funny and entertaining to me now as it was when I was six years old. And part of its appeal to me is that it reminds me of who I was back when Chunk was a bad ass for saying “Oh, shit, what?!”

I had a friend in college who’d never seen it, and upon first viewing was like, “Yeah, ok…” He was ostracized for his non-Goonies love, left with no friends, failed out of school as a result and I believe, may now be a serial killer. But what I was too afraid to admit then was - I kinda get it. It’s not the same experiencing The Goonies as a twenty year old. The joy it brought to millions of six year olds has become almost a generational inside joke, or more of a “you had to be there… this guy knows what I’m talking about!” And if you weren’t there, sorry. Good luck finding a freezer that fits all those severed heads.

And it’s the same with Star Wars, or even Saved By The Bell. You can go back in time and revisit that same kind of wonder you had on first experience. So what the hell does this have to do with anything? Well, Lisa and I were discussing our favorite albums the other day, and I mentioned our favorite albums now probably look a whole lot different from our favorite albums back in middle school, or high school or college. And yeah, maybe there are even a couple that have survived the entire trip.

But regardless of what still makes the list, there are albums, tracks, even cover art that drop that Goonie Corollary on you. That let you access your ten year old self. And since I’m always up for touching myself…

A quick qualifier for anyone who doesn’t know me. The first tapes (yes tapes, I told you, I’m thirty one) I ever owned were Bruce Springsteen’s Born In The USA and Cindy Lauper’s She So Unusual. They came in the same BMG Music mail-order ( = o.l.d.). The first tape I ever bought with my own money was Michael Jackson’s Bad. I stood at the counter at Sam Goody in the Braintree Mall, comparing that with Tiffany’s Tiffany, decided I liked girls (big moment), and bought Bad (ah, the irony). The first CD I ever bought was Vanilla Ice’s To The Extreme, and the day I bought my first CD boom box, I also purchased R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People. Needless to say, up until puberty, I had no real taste of my own and was a disciple of (no not Kiss 108), WZOU, 94.5 in Boston. Yes, before it was JAM’N, it was ZOU. And it was legit.

So what was I listening to when I wasn’t rocking out to ZOU in my middle school years?

Look, in 6^th grade, you’re in a new school simply trying to survive. And since I was coming from Catholic school, meeting all these public school kids for the first time, I had no chance to be Humpin Around. Maybe if I was Too Sexy, or All 4 Love, for that matter, or could make you wanna Jump (jump!) I may not have reached the End of the Road. But I did, and you know what was there? November Rain.

I discovered Guns N Roses late. My buddy Sean lent me his Appetite For Destruction (cartoon boobs in the cover-art!) and Use Your Illusion tapes before I went on a ski-trip over Christmas vacation. (sidenote: you shouldn’t listen to Out To Get Me while bombing down a black diamond. You could ruin your cassette walkman) Regardless. Sixth grade was dominated by Axl & Co and black t-shirts and the woeful decision to don a top hat for a week. Woops.

But you know what happens in 7^th grade? You want some girl to say Freak Me, baby. You really want to end up Knockin’ Da Boots with a Rump Shaker in Dazzey Dukes, even if some Informer’s gonna (licky boom boom down, and then) tell Mr Wendell that I Get Around even if I was Just Kickin’ It. But so what! If you could have a Dreamlover, and convince her you’re the better of the Two Princes, it’d be like a Runaway Train, making you scream Hip Hop Hooray! But only If.

So how do you go about doing that? If you were big and goofy and red headed like me, donning Cross Colours was out of the question. But you could gain some cred by listening to the dopest dope around; The Chronic, by Dr Dre. And honestly, listening to the $20 Sack Pyramid now, yeah, it’s funny in a different way to me. But the heavy basslines of Nuthin’ But A G Thing and Dre Day are always gonna transport me back to the parking lot at Pierce Middle School, trading mixtapes with friends. Hey, better than transporting me to Crenshaw…

And then came 8^th grade. By that point we ruled Pierce Middle School. The dances were simply a time to hang out in dim light and scoff at the music they were playing. We didn’t wanna see The Sign. We wanted to Bump N Grind, or Shoop in the hopes that our hypercolor shirts and Girbaud jeans weren’t betraying that we really could Feel The Love Tonight. We were still too young to partake of Gin and Juice, but Keep Ya Head Up, at least we had out Ghetto Jams.

And by that point, eff the establishment (we whispered so as not to be heard) we had forged our own paths, man! And down that path led the ultimate in taboo. Rap-Rock. Body Count’s Body Count. I let my friend Mike listen to it at lunch one day. He took off the head phones and tossed them at me. “This is so racist!” I was like, “Dude, they’re BLACK! It’s ironic.” I have never had so much cred in my life. Glad no one knew that tape was sitting next to Lisa Loeb at home…

So there it is. Three acts that defined my middle school years. GNf’nR. Dre. And Body Count. Hey, two outta three ain’t bad. And to this day, each one of them still has the power to drop a little bit of the Goonie Corollary on me. And when you’re thirty one and working in insurance, remembering the days when seeing a bra strap caused a slight shift in your Joe Boxers ain’t such a bad thing.

She's runnin! I'm flyin! Right behind in the rearview mirror now.....

2011-02-23T22:50:00.001-05:00

If I was in advertising (Which I am not. I am in PR. There is a difference. Essentially, it comes down to paid media and earned media and the way that wezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....sorry, where were we?) I would suggest that Panera Bread do an awesome David Lee Roth/Van Halen-inspired commercial, substituting in the lyrics for "Panama" with Panera. You can see it, right? Totally awesome. I think if you're going to serve paninis with 860 calories and 39 grams of fat, you can get a little funky, you know?

Related sidenote: How did "Panama" peak at number 13 on the US Billboard Hot 100? Granted it was a tough year to be a single, up against the likes of "Footloose," "Say Say Say," "When Doves Cry," "What's Love Got to Do with It" and even "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." I would have purchased all of those singles that year. But I was 3. But still. Gosh darn that song is so good.

Life is no cabaret

2011-02-16T00:11:00.001-05:00

If I was a member of the Dresden Dolls, I'd be like, "Hey My Chemical Romance, we did that song about singing to everyone back in 2006." I'm not though, so I'll just keep that to myself.

I'll be Your Everything if You Make Me a Star

2011-02-11T00:14:00.001-05:00

You guys.

My friend Carrie posted the following on Facebook today and it led to me having one of the biggest revelations of my life. My sad, empty life.

Carrie posted the video Zero by the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs and said "So if Heart and Joan Jett brought up a music baby together...and the donor was someone from Flock of Seagulls, this song would be the post-angsty hot chick that child grew up to be."

I thought yeah...yeah yeahs...definitely...but there's something else. There's another song. I can't pinpoint it...there's...something....I'VE GOT IT. I've got it like the Go Go's have got the beat.

Doesn't the girl who sings this:

Sound like the girl who sings this:

Right? Go pick your mind up off the floor because I know I just blew it out of your head.

You don't like ballers, they don't do nothing for ya, but you'd love a rich man six foot two or taller....

2011-02-07T23:35:00.003-05:00

Were you ready for some football?

I was. I have to admit that I was rooting for the Steelers last night. Only because one of my brothers-in-law is a Steelers fan and I didn't want him to be grumpy for a week. Alas. Sorry, Jay.

I had the opportunity to spend the game with a bunch of folks at my friends Dave and Stacey's house. Along with being the hosts with the most, per usual, they had prepared a list of prop bets prior to the game for us to fill out. You would be surprised how much fun it is to count Glee references (a bajillion) and the number of times they show Steven Tyler's face (eleventy thousand).

Unexpectedly, one of the most heated moments of the game was the National Anthem. One of the prop bets was how long it would take Ms. Aguilera to sing the National Anthem. More than 1:54 or less? The official time was...1:54.4. What a barn burner!

The entire prop bet thing actually led to some funny interactions with my dad. I had stopped by my Mom and Dad’s on the way to the party and he helped me fill out the sheet. I wish I had invented, "Shit My Dad Says," because I really think some of the shit my dad says is hilarious. I would like to share with you some of his reasons for placing certain prop bets:

Question: Seconds will it take Christina Aguilera to complete the national anthem?

More than 114 (1:54) or 114 (1:54) or fewer

Dad: "Less.....less....she knows better."

(Editor’s note: But apparently she doesn’t know the lyrics! Zing!)

Question: What will the Black Eyed Peas perform to open their halftime set?

Dad: (annoyed) “Ehhhhh don’t know any of their songs just pick one.”

Question: Who will join Jillian Michaels and Danica Patrick as the third “Go Daddy” girl?

(Dad scans the list of choices ranging from Betty White to Rockets Matsuzaka, Jenny McCarthy, Fergie, etc.)

Dad: "Carmen Electra....it HAS to be, right?"

I was with you on that one Dad! No one would have selected “Other,” which is the category under which Joan Rivers actually fell. I did NOT see that coming.

Then there was the whole football game thing. That was cool, too. But now it’s over. Pitchers and catchers report on the 13^th. Come to our ThatsWhyIDumpedYou.com launch party on the 12^th. And don’t forget, Monday is Valentine’s Day. You know what that means? Blah blah blah drink.

You had my heart inside your hand, but you played it to the beat.

2011-02-03T23:06:00.001-05:00

How about this weather, huh? Snowbigdeal. SBD.

Has this ever happened to you? You come home from a going away party for your friend Nick, who is leaving to split his time between South Africa, Afghanistan and Malawi...and you have an email from your cousin Laura saying she's moving to Rwanda the next day? No? Just me? Cool.

One of those days.

Yup, my friends and family, off saving the world. Don't worry guys, I'll keep...doing..stuff..here..too. Like writing about things that aren't important. And making dip. I highly suggest you follow Nick's blog here: http://pandemicprose.blogspot.com/

I will post Laura's as well, as soon as she is settled in.

Stuff like that almost makes me feel bad about complaining that I dropped a call three times on my Blackberry last night. Almost. Seriously, I had not moved a single inch when I was on the call. How does one drop a call sitting in the same exact place? I didn't wander into a dead zone. I AM a dead zone for cripe's sake. Emotionally, speaking.

Also, I will be adding "Listen buddy, it's not my fault that guy is blind and frankly, it's not my problem," to the list of "Things I Did Not Anticipate Myself Saying." Long story short, some guy yelled at me the other day because a blind gentleman with a guide dog was walking up the street and could potentially, eventually, walk into my non-moving car as I waited to pull out of a parking lot. I'm fairly certain the dog would not have let the guy walk into my car, and I'm also fairly certain the guy that yelled at me was on meth.

Already on the "Things I Did Not Anticipate Myself Saying" list:
-"We're huge in the Netherlands."
-"Do you know where can I get a Casey Affleck shirt?"
-"Haha I LOVE Steven Tyler!"
- And repeating to myself in the car, "Don't say the c-word on the radio, don't say the c-word on the radio, don't say the c-word on the radio...."

Look! Here's the bottom line.

Breaker, breaker, here comes the caper!

2011-01-27T11:12:00.000-05:00

Me: Steve, I got a new fish. He's green. I need a name. I'm thinking something Celtic-y.

Steve: Danny Ainge-lfish

Me: Hahahahahaha done.

Next time I'm gonna follow through, and if it drives me crazy, I will know better why.....

2011-01-21T17:35:00.001-05:00

Do any of you guys have those friends who, no matter how long it has been since you last connected with them, it seems like you never miss a beat? I'll assume you feel the same way about my blog and thus, are not angry at me for not writing much as of late. And by much, I mean, "anything." Except for Pat Who Thanks God Each Day For Yoga Pants. He yells at me every morning on IM.

What's new with you guys? Anything?

This is pretty close.

I started this post while sitting on a train, on my way home from a day trip to NYC for work. There are very few things in this world more breathtaking than sitting in the TGIFridays at Penn Station. I'm not even kidding. The decor was kitsch. Full of businessfolk in suits. Looking tired, exhausted. Jackets off, ties loosened. 80s music blasting. It was awesome. Greg, Jim and I were discussing how if we walked out of the restaurant and it turned out we were actually in like, Cleveland, or 1985, we would not have been surprised. It was a surreal experience. Also, the bartender had a bar code tattoo on the back of his neck. I hope he was just raging against the machine, and not actually coded for inventory or something. They haven't started doing that yet, right?

I don't like when people say, "There are no words to describe..." Of course there are. That's what words do. What is it, exactly, that you can't describe? See, there. You just did it. Done. Next question.

Do you think people who snore on planes and trains know they are the people that snore on planes and trains? Are they like, "Oh no, I hope this doesn't happen again!" or are they like, "Eh, I don't care zzzzzzzzzzzzzz." I will honestly never reach a point in my life where I won't turn bright red and do the shoulder shake laugh when someone near me snores in public. If they snort, or do the shake-awake, forget it.

It's like the time my sister Shelley missed the kneel-y thing in Church at Easter mass and hit the ground instead. I thought my mom was going to bring us up to the the alter of St. Joseph's and sacrifice us on the spot. When you aren't supposed to laugh, that's when things are the MOST hilarious.

Sometimes, you just need to laugh.

Another awesome thing that happened on the train is that the guy next to me said, "Mr. Sparkle!" when I opened my laptop. I have Mr. Sparkle as my background and no one ever really knows what it is. He, in turn, opened his laptop, and his background was the x-ray of Homer's head. We high-fived. I think my encyclopedic knowledge of The Simpsons is a blessing and a curse. A blessing, in that, when you're around people go who also watch The Simpsons, you can endlessly exchange one liners and it never gets old. For you at least, everyone else around you hates you. A curse in that when you say something like, "There's your answer, Fishbulb," people look at you as if you are insane. If I walk into a room and say, "I've got enough gazpacho for everyone!" I expect someone to yell "Go back to Russia!" not go get a bowl and spoon.

Or if I just yelled, "Dental plan!" in a room, if people would respond, "Lisa needs braces." I think I would be friends with those people. I also think it would be much better received than when I yell things like, "Fire!"

That is not a way to make friends. And you don't win friends with salad.

If Ever Words Were Spoken, Painful and Untrue, I Said I Loved But I Lied.....

2010-12-26T21:29:00.002-05:00

The holidays are a time for family....

which is why three of my friends and I decided to launch a website about break ups!

http://www.thatswhyidumpedyou.com/

Live it. Love it. Submit. We're also on Facebook and Twitter at @idumpedyou.

Matt, Chris, Tom and I will be eternally grateful. We cannot say the same about your ex.

Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself.

2010-12-20T22:54:00.001-05:00

Today I briefly wondered if I posted "Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo Woo" as my blog title if anyone would know the song lyrics were from "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam. I decided no.

Oh hey, Christmas! Who is excited?! Me.

I'm not only excited to be surrounded by the most wonderful family and friends money can buy, I'm actually just excited to say "peace the f*** out" to 2010. I think that might be the first time I've used the "f" word on my blog and it has never been so deserved.

Honestly, there are so many things in life you can control. Your choices. The people you choose to include in your life. Your own reactions to things. And there are so many things that you can't control. And those...those are the worst.There are people that you will lose without ever actually having agreed to let them go. There are things that won't work out, even though you've spent the past 20 years preparing for them. LOST will have a series finale. These are things you can't control. And they...they are the worst.

There are of course so many things have been gained this year. New friends, like Steve and Hillary. New jobs, like the one I have now. New pounds, like the ones I gained while perfecting the meatloaf and homemade banana bread. There are also a few things I hope to say goodbye to as we embrace 2011 with open-armed, big-boobed hugs.

And because I love lists, and that will never change, here are the top five things I hope Father Time leaves behind:

GTL- Gym, tanning, laundry. Guidos Trippin Likewhoa. Gangrenous Tiny ilLiterates. In any case, I hope I never hear it again. As well as anything associated with it, like the fist pump, Snooki, "The Situation," etc.

Photo poses - Stop giving the peace sign or a thumbs up. Seriously. Are we that awkward that we can't just have our hands down when posing for a photo? Put your hand on your hip, it's more flattering. You're throwing up a peace sign, but I'm fairly certain you can't spell any of the countries that we are currently occupying with troops. Just stop the insanity and put your hands down, you look stupid. Deuces!

Drunk words - Are you plastered? Hammered? Smashed? Shitfaced? Wasted? Faded like Soul Decision? - To be honest, I'm all of those things right now, but I think it's just better to avoid these words all together.

Old Navy mannequin commercials - Those things are creepy. I'm buying a tshirt that I'm fairly certain is just going to disintegrate after being washed five times, stop creeping me out with your commercials. They are dead and soulless, like me, except they don't smell like they spent an entire Sunday baking peanut butter cookies for the office.

Brett Favre - Just....no. He's the "Out, out damn'd spot!" of NFL quarterbacks. No matter how hard you try, you can't stop us now....and you can't get him to retire.

Are there any things you hope to stop dead in their tracks in 2010? And by "dead in their tracks" I do actually mean "kill with your bare hands" so choose your responses carefully....

Winter's Silver Overcoat...Blue Sky...Crystalline.....

2010-12-06T14:00:00.002-05:00

Everyone has favorites. A favorite song. A favorite movie. A favorite child. Sometimes people will say, "I don't think I really have one," when asked a favorite something. Of course you do! Have an opinion! Jesus! (Jesus is my favorite self-proclaimed savior/seemingly nice guy with some good ideas).

The holidays are a perfect time to figure out your favorites! You're already deciding who is getting a Christmas card, who is getting a present, etc. It's a natural part of the season because you can't give everything to everyone...I've looked into it. Trust me. Let's explore some of our favorites, together:

Favorite holiday movie - Love, Actually. Great movie. Very quotable. I'm a girl. Funny and heartwarming. Elf is a close second, but if I could only watch one holiday movie each year, it would be Love, Actually. I quote it all the time but I think the only person who actually picks up on it is my friend Kristin. Usually when I say things like, "Just in cases," people look at me like I'm a girl from Portugal hired to help clean Colin Firth's house after I just dove into a pond to save his book because he didn't make any copies.

Favorite holiday song - Life is so hard! This is a tough question, but if I could only listen to one Christmas song each year it would be Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy by David Bowie and Bing Crosby. It's just classic. Plus it's actually two songs, meaning 1) it was a mashup before mashups were cool and 2) I feel like I'm getting more bang for my buck. A two-for-one and everyone loves a bargain around the holidays. Runners up - Last Christmas by Wham! and Christmas Time Is Here from A Charlie Brown Christmas.

Favorite Christmas present received- Another tough question. I'm going with the year I received a microscope. I know what you're thinking, "But Lisa, you're not...smart," and that's fine. I just never got tired of looking at that slide of a fruit fly. On a related note, I can't believe I had friends as a child. Runner up - Masters of the Universe Slime Pit. The only reason why it came in second is that once you got crumbs or dust or anything into that slime...it was pretty gross.

Favorite stocking stuffer - Scratch tickets. Hands down. Next question.

Favorite holiday tradition - Going to my Auntie Ellen's every Christmas Eve. It's the best. This year we're introducing board games. In the past, we've done family trivia and had dance parties. Also, when we were younger, we were tasked with carrying around trays of hors d'oeuvres. I remember feeling so privileged to have that opportunity. Now I feel like we were just cheap labor. I think we were paid in stuffed mushrooms.

Least favorite holiday tradition - Taking down the Christmas tree. That's the worst. Wrapping up all the ornaments. Inevitably losing ornament hooks. First, it's sad because it signals the end of the holiday season. Second, it's just boring. The room looks a little "off" for the next few days because you feel like there is just something missing. Like a big, giant hole where a tree used to be. I imagine this is exactly how they felt in Ferngully.

So what about you? What are your favorite holiday things? I'd love to hear about them. Sleigh bells ring....and I AM LISTENING.

You went back to what you knew, so far removed from all that we went through....

2010-12-01T23:37:00.000-05:00

New theory! To go along with "Celery is Nature's Spoon" and "You Cannot Rhyme, Nor Go Wrong, With Orange." You know that feeling when you first wake up? The one where you're like, "Man, it's (ungodly hour) already? Sigh." Then you kind of just rub your eyes and look around for a bit, maybe you start to plan out your day or figure out what to wear. The sun is peeking through the windows and you're starting to focus on the ceiling and there is a little dot and you kind of feel like it is moving but you aren't really sure but thenOHMYGOSH is that a spider?!? It's amazing how fast you'll get up. Spiders are nature's alarm clock!

My friends are so funny...
Me: Steve, did you leave a comment on my blog?
Steve: No. Maybe you have a stalker?
Me: Oh, like that guy that is looking in my window?
Steve: No, there's no one else out here.

(I went and checked too, just Steve in his usual spot. And Edward.)

My favorite things to exclaim just because they make no sense and make me laugh:

- "PANIC AT THE DISCO!" (it's kind of like "Everybody act cool!")
- "Wait!" (then whisper under your breath) "...they don't love you like I love you." (Particularly when someone is leaving but will be returning shortly, like to get a cup of coffee or something out of the printer.)
- "New York London Paris Munich!" (This one subs in nicely for the more common "Jesus, Mary and Joseph")

You know what else is my favorite? Animals. Animals are my favorite food.

Don't you hate when you pull up to a destination right as an awesome song comes on the radio and you're bummed to get out of the car? That sucks. Do I sit here and listen to it? Do I just go to my destination and download it off the interweb because it's 2010 and we can all just instantly have what we want? Life is so hard.

You know what is awesome? When you pull up to your destination just as a song is ending, and you shut off the radio just as the last note plays. It's just a happy, satisfactory sense of completion. Like a scene in a movie. So then you pretend you're in a movie scene and you go to get out of your car as if you're being filmed and then you dramatically walk towards your destination, occasionally looking sideways off in the distance, your gait a little wider, your hair blowing back, you take off your sunglasses and look down as you're walking up the stairs in slow motion like there is...oh, just me? Only I do that? Alrighty.

Moving on.

Life is bent, into a shape, I can hold, a twist of fate...

2010-11-27T16:20:00.001-05:00

Am I the only person who still kind of freaks out when seeing a person from Lost on a different show? Like today when I saw Miles working in a lab on Law & Order. So weird! Instead of speaking to the dead, he was identifying if the cat hair on the suspect's pants was the same as that found on the victim! I miss that show. I have high hopes for The Walking Dead, although to be completely transparent, that show scares the crap out of me and if zombies come around, I am basically a brain on a silver platter. 28 Days Later, I am NOT Legend.

So I have this friend Pat Who Daily Thanks God for Yoga Pants (he makes me call him that) and he is a way more talented writer than I is are. You should read Pat's animated screenplay Sammy Jingles. It's Christmasy and funny and smart and inspired.

Seriously, it is the most awesome thing I've read, ever: http://studios.amazon.com/projects/98

The songs alone deserve many, many awards. I may have helped him out with a line about Pokemon. No big deal.

I've also decided that combining words is my favorite thing ever. Faveingver. Okay that one didn't work.

I move onward, the only direction. Can't be scared to fail, searching for perfection.

2010-11-25T22:05:00.006-05:00

It's Thanksgiving. The natural thing for me to do is to talk about Halloween again. No, that's ridiculous. Let's talk about what we're thankful for, shall we? Walk with me.....

My mom took this picture. She's awesome.

I'm thankful for my family. Like whoa. They are amazing. I can't imagine dreading a family get together. I love them. On a rare, serious note, they don't even need to pick me up when I fall, because they have never let me hit the ground.

Today we did shots at Thanksgiving. Not like "erase the ability to feel because OMG I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE " shots (which is not too far off, let's be honest), like a "hooray for family and Thanksgiving and life and love and family again," shots. And the food is delicious. (There were FOUR kinds of stuffing this year!) They always tell me they like whatever I brought, and I don't even care if it's true! I'm just happy everyone ate it. We also picked names for the Christmas grab and decided it would be extra funny if we also picked names for new tattoos. "Shaun, you got Lisa. That will look nice on your neck."

I'm thankful for my friends. Especially Kristin and Chris and Amy and Lisa. And definitely Cassie (even if I have to pick your drunk ass up at 3 am). I would be lost without you.

And my GPS. I would be completely lost without you. I would still be driving around Brooklyn.

I'm thankful for music. I'm thankful for bands like The Sheila Divine (welcome back!) who can make my little wooden heart turn and Amy Winehouse (please come back!) who speaks to my soul and Metallica (the Black Album and previous albums) (watch your back!) because you make me feel like a natural woman who can take down another girl in a fight. What? It's a fact. That would be 29 years of being nice to people who I should not be nice to coming out all at once!

(I'm not thankful for lyrics that do not rhyme, like "You are chihuahua I`m a rottweiler," Will.I.Am., that does not rhyme, you should take more time, I'll pay you a dime, it would be sublime...)

Sublime sucks by the way. FYI. You just learned something. On a holiday. I have today off.

I'm thankful for my amazing job and my awesome coworkers because I get to be creative and it's okay that I'm a little quirky and weird. It's just kind of who I am and they seem okay with that. And that's tangentially how I met Jeff and Deb and David and Jordan and lots of other people who make life infinitely more funny.

And I'm thankful for airport scanners and gropers because I know a lot of people who put a lot of effort into trying to get people to touch them and look at them naked. And at least with those airport scanner pictures, you don't have to worry about cutting off your head in the photo like I have to do with all those ones I sext out from my phone. Safe flight!

And I'm thankful for you, if you read this.

Everyone has a story to tell. Whether you're a Care Bear or Shrek, you are who you are. Be thankful for what you have, and considerate of others who care about you, and hopeful for what you want and unafraid to go get it.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. xoxo

You were in the darkness too...So I stayed in the darkness with you

2010-11-11T22:53:00.000-05:00

Do you guys remember that time my friend Kate was on Wheel of Fortune? Me too. Sure, that girl that solved the puzzle with just one letter is getting a lot of buzz but Kate, after making up the word "fiping," solved the final puzzle before Pat even finished saying "good luck" so I still would rank her as the greatest WOF contestant of all time.

(The category was "Things" and the puzzle was _ _ _ ES AND P _ NS)

I think being on a game show is up there on the list of awesome things I don't think I could ever actually do. I'm not going to blame it entirely on being scarred by Cindy Brady's game show collapse on "Question the Kids," (Baton Rouge! Baton Rouge! Baton Rouge!) or that time Cliff from Cheers goes on Jeopardy ("Who are three people who have never been in my kitchen?") but that is basically my biggest fear. Getting on the show and my mind going completely blank. I think the closest I'm going to get to an actual game show (until I convince a team to wander around New York with me, desperately seeking Cash Cab) is to continue playing the lucrative pub trivia circuit.

The other day I went with some of my friends to play trivia, specifically, music trivia. And honestly, it was really hard. Like, what band has a one-armed drummer? Fine. Everyone knows that. Def Leppard. Oh no. That's not what they asked. What was that one-armed drummer's NAME? What? Who knows that?

I think how the question is asked makes a huge difference. That's what makes Jeopardy awesome.There is usually a hint to the answer (question, whatever) in the question (answer, whatever). Like a playful pun. There is always something that makes you more confident that your guess might actually be right. Granted, I would never actually go on Jeopardy. I know if I ever made it on the show, the categories would be like "16th Century Russian Poetry" and not "3-Letter Words" or "Foods that Start with 'G'" and other things about which I know entirely too much.

But music trivia, the questions were just asked in a misleading way. Like asking which artist debuted at number one, we would think the song was what debuted at #1, but it was actually the album, and so on. Or when he was like, "Which song has been on the Billboard Top 100 for 29 weeks?" Dude, I don't know. But had he said "Which TERRIBLE song has been on the Billboard Top 100 for 29 weeks?" I would have been like oh, Airplanes by B.o.B and that angst-y girl.

The bottom line is that I don't know as much about music as I wish I did. Sure, my awareness of murdered Tejano superstar Selena came in handy, but I really think I could have done better. I was really hoping for a lightening round of "Name as many Michael Jackson songs as you can in one minute" or "List all of the Britney Spears singles that have appeared on the Billboard 100." Yes, that's where I would have shined. Am I proud of that? You bet your sweet ass. And really, who are you to judge? Rick Allen? Yeah, that's what I thought, you wouldn't have answered that correctly either.....

This Used to be My Playground....Used to be....This Used to be My Childhood Dream....

2010-11-08T12:30:00.001-05:00

My wonderful friend Amy ~~got stuck~~ had the opportunity to babysit her niece and nephew this weekend and in an effort to secure the title of "World's Best Aunt," decided on a host of activities, including but not limited to a Sunday night visit to Chuck E. Cheese. I was invited along. Kids? Games? Amy? Jackpot.

First of all, I got there about 15 minutes before Amy arrived and was faced with a pretty easy decision. Go in or stay outside? Easy! I mean, I had to just wait in my car because I wasn't about to walk in there without a kid, that would be creepy. But do you know what is more creepy? Sitting in your car outside of Chuck E. Cheese. I felt like every parent that walked out GLARED at me, like I was just sitting there, waiting for some kid to wander just far enough away so I could throw them into the back of my Accord. Or like my ~~accomplice~~ friend was inside and I was waiting in the getaway car for when she comes running out with a new addition to the family. The entire thing was very stressful and I hadn't even been inside yet. And in all honestly, most of the kids weren't even that cute. Definitely not steal-worthy.

Speaking of inside, I'm fairly certain Chuck E. Cheese used to be about 10x the size it is now. And what ever happened to the Cheese Factory? I remember it quite distinctly. The carpet was blue. At one point you jumped down a pretty big stair, then ran over this part that was kind of like a waterbed, then...okay, fine, that's all I remember. But it existed! And now it doesn't. Why? Did someone die in there? Someone died in there, didn't they? Did they ever find that kid? I bet the only kids that ever died at Chuck E. Cheese died of the flu. Seriously, I feel like I needed a Purell shower after exiting the premises.

And where are all the cool games?! Where is Whack-A-Mole? I really don't feel like earning tickets by playing the game where you drop the coin in and try to time it so it lands in a boat. I want to abuse some small animals that are so beaten up they actually look like critters...from the movie Critters.

Even the swag isn't as cool as it was before. Granted we had about 11 tickets (we were working with a 3 year old and a 1 year old) but certainly our options weren't as cool as this AWESOMENESS featured today on I'm Remembering.

Who doesn't want a Mr. Munch plastic figurine? Yes, that's the Grimace-like purple guy. Why do I know that? The real question is: Why don't you?

I guess one day, when I care about things besides myself, I'll look at places like Chuck E. Cheese in a new light. Be consumed by a sense of wonder as I see it through the eyes of a child. (Should be around 2025...unless I find one cute enough to steal....)

I Can't Be Sure That You're the One for Me...But All I Ask Is That You Dance with Me

2010-11-03T21:00:00.003-04:00

Usher's latest song tells me to "dance (dance) like it's the last (last) night of your life (life)."

Photo by Scott Zuehlke

To that I say, Usher, if it's the last night of my life, I'm probably going to "Say (say) goodbye to my loved ones, and thank (thank) them for everything and delete (delete) all the incriminating stuff on my hard drive and phone."

Celebrities are so out of touch.

So close yet so far ya know, she never seemed to notice, that this silly schoolboy crush wasn't just pretend....

2010-11-02T23:30:00.000-04:00

You know that saying that all girls quote or have hanging in their rooms or in a frame on their desks or whatever? The one that ends with "Dance like no one is watching." Why would you dance like no one is watching? That's crazyface. Dance like EVERYONE is watching! Own that shizz. If you do...eventually..they will watch. And they will like it. And then you're awesome!

Did everyone vote today? Did everyone remind everyone to vote today so that all you heard or read all day was people telling you to vote even though everyone around you was also telling you to vote so you were basically just telling people who said they voted, to vote?

I'm fairly certain if I tried to remind all of my friends on Facebook to vote today, it would have been the equivalent of me standing next to the super-election-scantron-machine, as you were entering your ballot, while the poll workers were crossing off your name, yelling, "Don't forget to vote!" Kind of repetitive, given the audience.

I wish folks would remind me to do other stuff besides vote. Like "Don't forget to floss today!" or "Don't forget to pay NStar today!" Then I could get a sweet sticker, everyone's dental hygiene would be better, my lights wouldn't get shut off...everybody wins!

If you are my age (29 for the first time), with a standard deviation of 10 years, you should read this site every single day: I'm Remembering!

Have you ever had one of those days when you're over-analyzing everything you do and you kind of deny feelings you have even though you have suspected them all along and eventually you have to admit them to yourself? Had that today...."Crap. I like Maroon 5."

I always feel bad when people say, "I don't know. I don't watch much TV." I watch a TON of TV. I average about 3 episodes of Law & Order (Original recipe, SVU and/or Criminal Intent) a day. I also read books, so I figure that helps balance my massive television consumption. You can Take That like Robbie Williams, non-TV watchers.

Speaking of which, if the little boy that came to my house trick-or-treating dressed as a S.W.A.T. team member had actually been wearing an NCIS hat, I'm fairly certain he was getting the whole bowl of candy from the Mokaba house. Porch light off! No more candy! That kid wins Halloween.

You know who else wins? Me. For having readers like you. Hugs!

Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6...now I’m feelin so fly like a G6

2010-10-28T22:03:00.000-04:00

Granted the pharmacist doesn't know that I've never even smoked a cigarette, thus am unlikely to make the leap to hard core drugs....but I think the process to acquire actual meth may be easier than that to purchase the cold and sinus medication I needed tonight in an attempt to regain the ability breathe through my nose again.

My girl's like candy, a candy treat. She knocks me right up off my feet.

2010-10-25T22:36:00.000-04:00

Let's be honest. The other awesome (re: fat) part of Halloween is candy. Some, of course, are better than others. Snickers? Yay! Chunky? No. Peanuts? Huh? Are we on a plane?

My favorite candy is also my mortal enemy. Gummy Bears. Sometimes when I take care of my sister's dog, Bowdoin, she and her husband leave detailed instructions for how to feed him. "One cup of food. Wait 5 minutes. One cup of food. Wait 5 minutes. Water." Apparently he will just eat it all really fast and throw up if you don't force him to pace himself.

I have the SAME problem with Gummy Bears. Seriously. I will just eat them until I want to throw up. I don't have enough self-control, at age 29, to avoid making myself sick. To be honest, I do the same with Skittles. And Starbursts. And Swedish Fish. What is WRONG with me?

No fear with Raisinets, though. Do not even get me started on Raisinets. I hate raisins to begin with (as noted here and here), and putting chocolate on them, while a nice touch, is not going to make them taste good. My friend Colin once wrote, "When you cover something as vile as raisins in something as delicious as chocolate, it inevitably results in chaos. Am I supposed to be chewing or dissolving? Am I supposed to be eating healthy or pigging out? Fried lard covered in chocolate? I’m sold. Donuts wrapped in bacon, then covered in chocolate? Sign me up! But Raisinets leave the candy connoisseur feeling confused, disappointed, and most importantly, disgusted." And I concur.

Also, is there anything better than that random neighbor that gives out the full-sized candy bars? AWESOME. It's like living next to the Rockefellers for one day a year...except instead of revolutionizing the petroleum industry, you get full-sized Reese's Peanut Butter Cups!

My friend Steve said they give out full-sized candy bars at his house. Now, I'm not about to tell you his address BUT I will share with you this little bit of knowledge:

"Steve's Tips for Tricks and Treats on Halloween"

Next year, wear a costume every day except Halloween.
Keep authorities honest by sticking razors in the candy.
Don't just scare the trick or treaters, hurt them.
Tell the princesses they're supposed to look pretty, not ugly.
Ask the fathers if "daddy wants some candy, too."
Unwrap all the chocolate bars before putting them in the bowl.
Give out little bags of bread and those mini-water bottles.
Don't give candy to the group's worst costume.
Flash 'em.

So.....yeah. Actually, DON'T go to Steve's house.....

I Am the One Hiding Under Your Bed, Teeth Ground Sharp and Eyes Glowing Red

2010-10-18T21:48:00.000-04:00

I love Halloween. Love. It would totally be my favorite holiday but Thanksgiving involves stuffing.

Shelley, Me, Danni

Every year, I dress up and give out candy at my parents' house. The Green M&M. SpongeBob Squarepants. Speed Racer. Scooby Doo. A baseball player. Kids FREAK OUT when you answer the door dressed as an awesome character, and not as a middle aged husband/wife that hates his/her life, got married way too young and feels trapped in a suburban hell. They see SO much of that on other streets, I'm sure.

Best reaction I've received by far was the Dad who exclaimed, "OH MY GOD DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS?!?" when I was dressed up as Speed Racer. It wasn't just the exclamation and being peppered with questions as to where I got such an awesome costume, but the look of utter disappointment when his son had NO idea. It was like he failed as a father. He started to explain the show, the characters, but there was no hiding it. That kid was getting a beating when he got home. (Kidding!) (Maybe!)

Costume parties can always be pretty stressful though. Dressing up for kids is easy, but what about my peers? What should I go as? A witch? What is this? 1692?

I'm pretty averse (re: out of shape) to going as "slutty" anything, so that knocks off about 90 percent of female costumes. Since I'm not comfortable going as Slutty Snow White, you know what that leaves? Celebrities.

I was chatting with my friend Chris the other day and we realized that Fall is not only the time of year when the leaves turn, the wind is brisk, and white people voluntarily pick fruit for one day a year. We are all waiting, scanning the headlines and TMZ, for someone famous to do something 1) dumb and 2) visual.

I mean, Hollywood is basically the Holy Grail of timely, hilarious costumes.

Britney's "I Got the Golden Ticket" tshirt. Lindsay Lohan's alcohol monitoring anklet. Amy Winehouse appearing anywhere in public. These are usually the cheapest and best costumes, in my opinion.

We actually started making up fake, awesome scenarios that would, in turn, be great costumes. Imagine (note: these things did not happen)"What's that? Patrick Stewart was caught doing blow in a motel room wearing a Star Trek jacket and 70s pants?? In September??" Or "Moby wore a Matrix trench coat and wrote GO in red lipstick on his forehead for the VMAs?" Or "David Hasselhoff was drunk and shirtless on the floor eating a cheeseburger?" I mean, these crazy, fake scenarios are gold but could NEVER actually happen, right? Someone make this happen in real life.

So what are you being this year? Brett Favre and Jenn Sterger? Christine O'Donnell? A Chilean Miner? A Chilean Minor? Snooki? Gaga? Bieber? Mustard?

We are agents of the free, I've had my fun and now it's time to serve....

2010-10-13T22:45:00.003-04:00

As you may know, if you have followed my blog from the beginning or read all my posts because you’re a new friend or a stalker, I have theories. Most notably, celery is nature’s spoon.

I wanted to share another theory with you all. Maybe because it’s Halloween time? Maybe because Jim hates red Mike & Ikes? Maybe because I AM glad you didn’t say banana?

Here it is: You Cannot Rhyme, Nor Go Wrong, With Orange

Think of a fruit candy. Here, I’ll do it for you: Skittles, Starbursts, Runts, Gummi Bears, Those Jelly Things Covered In Sugar, jelly beans and so on.

You might have a favorite color/flavor that varies based on the candy. But you know what? Orange is always orange, and orange is always good.

Red? Could be cherry, fruit punch, strawberry, watermelon…..

Green? Could be lime, also could be watermelon (WHAT? I know)…..

Yellow? TOTAL CRAP SHOOT. Could be lemon, could be banana, could be pina colada even if you’re not caught in the rain….

But orange? It’s orange. It tastes like oranges. It’s good. It might not be your favorite and get all the glory (I’m looking at you, flashy pink Starbursts) but orange is always orange, and orange is always good.

And since I’m dropping knowledge up in this piece….

(Keeping in mind, this is coming from someone who previously held the self-imposed title of “heavyweight champion” but now I live by one simple rule…one rule to rule them all…and my life is forever changed.)

Ready?

A SANDWICH IS NOT A SNACK.

Seriously. If you’re in between meals, you can’t just eat a fluffernutter. That is a meal, not a snack.

Sure, there are plenty of little changes a person can make to get healthier. Switch to skim milk. Choose whole grain bread (now with more seeds!). Not assume a box of macaroni and cheese is one serving even though it all fits quite neatly into a one bowl.

But if you’re looking for a snack….don’t eat a sandwich. That is a meal, not a snack. Oreos, despite being a sandwich cookie, are a snack.

And a hot dog is a sandwich. Yeah, I just blew your mind.

Namaste.

Don't just look. Come and take it. 'Cause what I've got. You know you can't fake it.

2010-09-27T21:12:00.000-04:00

I just realized the verse from Rock Me Amadeus by Falco is reminiscent of what it sounds like when you try to have a conversation with someone who is throwing up. Turns out he’s just singing in German.

Seriously. Listen:

As most of you know, I’m an above average dancer for my race. I don’t think my parents were ever worried about me becoming a stripper though because I have always been jusssssssst a little fat. I’m thinking one day, the thick white girl stripper market might take off. And when it does, I would open a club and I would name it “Krackazz.”

Every time I walk out of my office, I see cardboard taped to the floor and have to fight the urge to do a head spin. 1) Because it would be completely unprofessional and 2) Because I have no idea how to do a head spin and would likely die.

I think "Is that a euphemism?" is my new favorite "That's what she said." The premise is the same. Making a relatively innocuous saying into something sexual. The awesome difference is that you are assuming those around you know what the word "euphemism" means. Funny AND pretentious. JACKPOT.

True answers to the question "What was that noise?" should my landlord ever came upstairs, concerned:

I was doing the running man in my kitchen while listening to "I Got The Power" and I was making breakfast and I had just sprayed Pam and I slipped because I had socks on and saved my own life by grabbing the counter but knocked over an empty omlette pan and it crashed to the floor.
"Ease On Down The Road" was on my iPod so I eased on down through the apartment, back and forth, about 25 times, but I had on headphones and I am not small and gravity is not kind and ballet flats do not make a person Anna Pavlova, so it may have been louder than I had anticipated.
My best friend just called me to tell me she got engaged but I thought she was calling to talk about the girl singing "Listen" from Dreamgirls on Glee so I was totally caught off guard and began to scream and I apologize because, as she pointed out, I sounded like I was on Space Mountain.
My roommate came home and was playing music at 5 a.m. and I was fine until Norah Jones came on and I find her mellow, acoustic pop both banal and infuriating so I got up and I slammed a door. (Hi Cass! xoxo)

Now ain't that some shit.

It’s the sport of kings, better than diamond rings, that’s why we’re here to sing...football!

2010-09-07T21:50:00.002-04:00

Some of you may be thinking, “Hey Mokaba, is your blog just all you and your friends combining words together now? What is up with that? By the way, you look very pretty today.” To this, I would reply, “Thank you. And no, it just seems like that because the past few posts have been lots of SHUT THE HELL UP.”

What do you do when your friend, who works for an invitation-only shopping site, needs a fashion-related name for the work NFL survivor pool team?

You, Jen, and Chris do this:

The clear winner: Diane Von Furstengoal

Runners up:

We Must Protect This House of Style

Clinton Pret-a-Portis

Sacks and the City

Right Said Fred Taylor

Steve Madden NFL '10

LaCoste Us The Game

Victorious Secret

Illegal Clothesline

MoschinOchoCinco

Sacks 5^th Avenue

Straight Cashmere, Homey

Forever 21-0

First and Trend

Puttin on the fRitz Pollard

Nine West Coast Offense

Karl Lagerfieldgoal

Yves St. Laurendzone

Don SchuLa Perla

Fendi-fense!

Donatella Versacky

Helmet Lang

Christian LaCroixbar

Take An Armanknee

Steve McNairbrush

Van Unnecessary RoughNess

Brian WestBrooks Brothers

Buffalo David Bittonsides Kick

Betsy Johnsides Kick

Original Penguin One For the Gipper

Kenneth Coleline Stand

TJ Maxx Protect Punt Formation

The Limited Too-a-Days

Burlington Coates Factory

Baby Snap

Free Safety-pins

Neutrals Zone

Receiving the Two Snaps Up

Shirts and Pigskins

Rue LaDainian Tomlinson

Jarrard’s Pageboys

SmartbarGain of 5

Pittsburg Heelers

The Cover-alls

First Gowns

Watch out, Cupid stuck me with a sickness, pull your little arrows out and let me live my life

2010-08-31T12:00:00.000-04:00

As it turns out, combining two terms into something new and funny is something that my friends, who are hilarious, enjoy doing and have done so for quite some time.

Take my friend, Erica, for example. Also, read her blog, which she updates just as frequently as I update mine.

Back in 2004, she and a coworker started making a list celebrity names mixed with medical ailments and the like.

The list had not been updated since that fateful day UNTIL she was inspired by my 80s bakery post and decided it was time to revisit the list. I feel like we’ve created a modern day set of celebrity-based Garbage Pail Kids and I could not be more proud. Also, the bar for things I am proud of is set very, very low. I woke up today! Hooray!

MUSICIANS

Malady Gaga

Katy Periodontitis

Jason Derulowflowpriapism

Gucci Manic Depressive

Ke$ha - It just sounds like a disease, and frankly, it looks like she might have something

Taylor Swift’s Disease

Brucellosis Springsteen

Diseasy E.

Culture Clubfoot

Croup Doggy Dogg

Biggie Smallpox

ChlamyDionne Warwick

Elton Jaundice

Garthritis Brooks

Robert Plantar's Wart

HalitOtis Redding

Cirrhosis Mixalot

ACTORS

Christina Hendricketts

Tinnitus Fey

Mariska HargiTay-Sachs

Rita Wilson's Disease

Amy BiPohler

Julia Louis-Dried Pus

John Hammertoe

Lupus Gossett Jr.

Lindsay Lohandfootandmouth disease

Rosacea O'Donnell

Paris Hiltonsilitis

Johnny Carcinoma

Scarlet Fever Johansson

Hepatitis B Arthur

GonorRhea Perlman

Sickle Cell AneMia Farrow

Bends Affleck (or Ben Afflicktion)

Molly Ringworm

Sharon Kidney Stone

Russell Crohn's Disease

Charles Bronchitisson (pushing it)

BANDS

Massive Attachycardia

Motley Croup

Kings of Leiomyomas

Paramorphea

Temper Trapidheartbeat

MononucleOasis

2 Live Flu

Anthrax

Bon Jovinile Diabetes

Great Whitehead

Stalked in the forest too close to hide, I'll be upon you by the moonlight side

2010-08-27T16:54:00.000-04:00

What happens when you find out a friend of yours not only shares your love of everything 1980s but also your desire to open a bakery in Maine?

The following list of potential 1980s themed bakery names:

(Thank you Jen, Jenna and Chris for your HILARIOUS suggestions and reinforcing I have the funniest friends ever)

I Knead You Tonight

Fattyshack

Top Bun

Bread Poets Society

Buns ‘N Roses

Back to the Chewture - A write-in suggestion from Colin S. Brilliant!

Total Eclipse of the Tart

Biscotti Kid Part Chew

Toastbusters

Whip It

PYT - Pretty Yum Things

I Want To Know What Loaf Is

Dexy’s Midnight Muffins

Fondant Goes to Hollywood

Love is a Butterfield

Take My Bread Away

She Blinded Me With Dessert

Love Bites

Take It On The Bun

Hewey Lewis and the Brews

Still Haven’t Found What I’m Cooking For

Another One Bites the Crust

Hungry Like the Wolf

Pour Some Sugar On Me

She Blinded Me With Croissants

Might Morphin Flour Rangers

Indiana Scones and the Truffle of Doom

This is Ginger Snap

Ferris Cruller’s Day Off

Bake Me Up Before You Go-Go

I Love Wok and Rolls

Hit Me With Your Best Pot

We Got the Beat (ers)

We’re Not Gonna Bake It

We’re Not Gonna Cake It

Flock of Struedels
Big Truffle in Little China

LadyFingers In Red

Sweet Child Of Mine

Pie Hard

Electric Creams

License to Fill

Baking Mr. Right

The Naked Bun

Red Velvet

Whisk-y Business

Valley Twirl

Young Buns

Girls Just Want to Have Flan

You Cook Me All Night Long

Half Baked

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Fat Times at Ridgemont Pie

Teenage Mutant Ninja http://www.chocolate-candy-mall.com/images/chocolate-turtles-44610.jpg
Bakers of the Lost Ark

You’ve Got the Right Fluff

Field of Creams

Blade Bunner

I Want Candy

Candy Girl

It Must Have Been Lard…But It’s Over Now.

You're spending all your time collecting and discovering, it's not enough.

2009-11-02T18:09:00.000-05:00

I think I find myself drawn to songs that contain counting because it makes me feel like I already know some of the lyrics.

Moving is the best anti-shopping. I’m now going to ask myself, before making any purchases, “Will you want to pack this in a box in a few years? Does the thought of that make you want to kill yourself? Yes? Put it back.”

During the apartment search, the fact that there is a wings place at the end of my street factored into the final decision. Does that make me fat…or just a believer in thorough SWOT analysis?

I realized I was no longer friends with someone on Facebook the other day when I said to myself, “Hey, wonder what he/she is up to, haven’t made fun of his/her updates in a while.” Whoops.

In unrelated news, if you’re a single girl going out on a bunch of dates and you always think it’s “going really well” but the guy always drops off the face of the Earth, there is nothing wrong with him. There is something wrong with you. Your friends won’t tell you that because they are equally as delusional and equally as single with equally as many cats. You may have read about this in “He’s Just Not That Into You” but then you messed it all up by believing that Carrie from Sex in the City and Bridget Jones are real people. There is no need to lead a charge to try to change this type of behavior in men. You are not Joan of Arc and you make him even more scared of other single girls. Don’t email him/text him/call him demanding an answer. Move on, Crazyface.

"It's women like you that keep the rest of us from landing a husband." - Edna Krabappel

(Oh, and it probably WAS something you said.)

(Also, don’t talk about it on Facebook or on a blog.)

The six o'clock alarm would never ring, but it rings and I rise

2009-09-28T22:11:00.000-04:00

Kelloggs introduced Sunny and the "two scoops" slogan in 1966 (thanks, Wikipedia!). It's pretty clear this indicates the amount of raisins in the cereal exceeds that of a lesser one-scoop cereal. Why wouldn't someone in 1967 just introduce "three scoops?" Isn't that like when someone is on The Price is Right, and after "coming on down" they guess $1 on the price of the prize (assuming all of the other contestants went over) but they don't realized they are actually the second to last person, so the actual last person says $2 and wins?

It seems pretty obvious to me.

Also, raisins are gross.

She'll tell you she's an orphan...after you meet her family

2009-09-24T21:50:00.000-04:00

Isn’t it amazing how much people think they know about angels, even though we don’t actually see them?

Like what gives them wings … the sound of a bell ringing

Like what makes them cry…the sound of balloons popping

Like what they feel like…toilet paper

Just let me state for the record, we're giving love in a family dose

2009-09-20T23:12:00.000-04:00

Imagine if you had a job where you only had to show up once in a while, never had to do any actual work and still got paid?

It’s called being a consultant....but in this case, an aunt.

You only really have a small set of requirements (besides fertile siblings) to be an aunt.

-Bottomless pit of love and support? Check.
-Ability to serve as refuge when niece/nephew realizes they have the meanest Mum in the world and need to escape to awesome Auntie Lisa’s house? Check anticipated in the future.
-Prevent all injury and bodily harm. So far, so good!

Now when I brought up the idea of my BF and me bringing my 3-year-old nephew to the Aquarium this past Saturday, people (my entire family) had their doubts.

Can you handle it? Are you ready for this? What if he throws a tantrum? What if he doesn’t listen? What if he starts yelling? What if he starts crying?

In these situations, I’m sure his Mum would give him a warning. A stern talk. A time-out.

Do you know what Auntie gives him?

M&Ms.

(That is an actual photo of the inside of my purse)

I’m not here to enforce discipline. I’m here to look at penguins and have a good time. To the Aquarium!

It actually ended up being a really great day. Sure, it costs about $785 to go to the Aquarium, but I think that was worth it just to see my nephew’s face light up every time one of those gangly toothed sharks swam by the window in which we were standing….for about two solid hours.

“Here he comes! There he goes….here he comes again! Oh, there he goes….but he’s swimming back around! Look at the turtle! No, you’re right. He’s not a shark. The shark is….there he is!”

You know where else they have sharks? The gift shop! My nephew put three stuffed sharks into a shopping basket, by himself, and then walked right over to the checkout line. It was hilarious. Sure, the BF and I had to channel ninjas to get two of the sharks out of the basket without him noticing but we did it. It involved a lollipop distraction and a stealthily executed hand-off.

Kids are SO easy to take care of in four hour increments. Piece of cake.

Speaking of cake, I love beer.

I was on the Orange Line on Friday and a man sitting near me smelled kind of like beer. A normal person might say to him or herself, “Who drinks at 8 in the morning? That’s disgusting. That guy has a problem.”All I could think was “I cannot WAIT to go out after work.” (Can you believe people worry about me taking their kids into the city?)

Also, how is it that on random days I’m the tallest person on the train? I’m hardly a tall, lanky hipster. I’m an average 5’5 but I think a family of tourists was going to ask to take pictures with me when I stood up on the Red Line the other day. And that is nothing compared to the time I was on the Blue Line and almost recruited to play center on a men’s basketball team.

Just another day in the life of a commuter.

Remember, in the subway and in life, when you feel like there is nowhere to go…watch the doors, there is another train directly behind this one.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life...

2009-09-15T00:46:00.000-04:00

Oh. There you are!

I know. It’s been a long time. Cut a sister some slack. I’ve had A LOT going on over the past few months.

First of all, I have a new nephew. How awesome is that? I now have not one, but two nephews that I can babysit and let stay up all night and eat pizza and make fun of their parents. Being an auntie is the best. Especially since I realized I can just take them to Home Depot and tell them that any of the men inside is the real Handy Manny and they will actually believe me. I’m a really bueno babysitter.

And I have a new job! It’s fantastic. I love it. Same field, just different company.

I think it might be the best thing to ever happen to this blog. Why? Because if you ever run out of things to talk about on your blog (see: the past 5 months)….start taking the MBTA to work. Guess who has a fantastic rack and will never run out of stories again? This girl.

For the record, I love the T. I think it’s extremely convenient. I give myself enough time to get where I’m going and it gets me there. I read. I don’t have to drive. I don’t sit in traffic. It’s fantastic.

First and foremost, when I get on the subway in the morning (at the first stop), I basically have my choice of seats. I always choose to sit in the last seat, right up against the wall. Why? Because that means I only have to sit next to one stranger. I’ve cut my “stuck next to a weirdo” odds in half. I should fight crime or solve the healthcare crisis.

Somehow, SOMEHOW, on many mornings a woman will get on the train and elect to sit in the seat(s) next to me and frankly, it just doesn’t work. It doesn’t work because, as you may have noticed, I said seat(s). I think I’ve almost had my ribcage crushed a few times by some woman with reverse Shallow Hal disorder who thinks her 36 inch ass is fitting into an 18 inch seat.

I truly believe there should be a ‘do you fit in this seat’ example chair set up in each station, the same way that people can measure if their carry-in will fit in the overhead compartments on an airplane. No one is judging, let’s just be a little realistic here.

And I am not a small girl. I am…how do you say…posteriorly gifted? Bottom heavy? Have back?

Oh, I’m not making this up. I have many examples to back up those statements. The first, and most therapy-inducing, being a soccer memory gone wrong. I was 16 years old, playing varsity soccer and dating a guy from a neighboring town. I adored this young man and was so excited that he was coming to see me play versus his home town. It was a night game, under the lights. His parents were there, cheering on the nice young girl their son was dating. The game was exactly as you would expect it, the intensity of town rivalries played out passionately on the pitch, fighting for each ball as if it was…wait…what? What is that? Do you hear that? The chanting? Are they…are they chanting “Thirteen’s got a big butt?” Oh yeah, yeah they are. Guess who needs a sub and she isn’t talking about a steak and cheese?

As a matter of fact, just tonight (no joke, this blog is practically happening in REAL TIME) I knocked over several drinks with my backside….ONTO a client…while trying to get up to go to the ladies room. My calm and professional reaction? “I have a HUGE ass.”

Who WOULDN’T hire me? Really?

Now that that’s out of the way (and I’ve adequately horrified myself enough to warrant skipping lunch this week), you understand that my comments about realistic ass-to-seat assessments are coming from a good place. An honest place.

A place that does not play a beeping sound as you back up towards me.

A place that does not warrant use of a shoe horn for me to try to get out of my seat and get off of the train.

A place where a round peg does not fit in a square hole, and your giant butt does not fit into this little seat.

Anyway, I’m back. I’ll be writing. Topics to include, but are not limited to:

- The guy that calls me “mama” at Downtown Crossing
- People that don’t take off their giant camping backpacks on the T (and why do you have that? I know you work at State Street not Mt. Washington)
- Pregnant or fat? Pregnant or fat? Do I give you my seat? I can’t decide! Avoid eye contact go!
- Cheez-its. Underrated and delicious.

Keep checking. Keep reading. Namaste.

It's a sacrifice working day to day...for little money...just tips to pay

2009-04-06T23:26:00.000-04:00

This is the greatest escort story ever told….by me.

Listen, if you went to Arizona State, chances are you might have a few good hooker stories. I get that. I went to school in Boston. We did not have pools in our backyards and we have no hooker stories…until now.

It’s a drizzly March night. I’m meeting up with a friend for drinks. I have not seen said friend in about 12 years but through the powers of Greyskull and Facebook, drinks can be had. Totally normal. Let’s catch up. Absolutely.

We’ll call him: Bold (it’s his middle name, or so he tells me)

I hop on the Orange Line and head in town.

(On the Orange Line, I run into another old friend, who confesses that she reads my blog even though we are not friends on Facebook, but she found my blog through someone else’s profile. I think this is pretty awesome. It made me happy. I like her. We’re FB friends now.)

Anyway.

The location? The Green Dragon. Standard Irish decor. Dark wood. Unfriendly faces.

I take a seat at the bar and order a drink.

Not five minutes after sitting, she walks up. She’s easily 5’11, with very long brown hair. A friendly face, slight sun damage around the eyes. Aged but attractive. Like a fine scotch…only if the scotch was a woman who tries too hard to hold onto her youth.

“What are you drinking?” she asks.

I look at my Guinness. It looks very Guinness-y. It’s in a glass that says “Guinness.” I can see where she would be unsure.

“Guinness,” I answer. She smiles and responds, “You’re much too pretty to be sitting at a bar by yourself.” I laugh politely. “I’m meeting a friend.” “A guy I hope?” “Yes.”

A standard conversation ensues. She’s from San Francisco, here on vacation. She and her friends are fascinated by all the Irish bars in Faneuil Hall and she just thinks everything is so cute.

She hates walking on cobblestones, especially in her Ferragamo boots. I nod, like I would have any idea what the hell she is talking about. I hate walking on cobblestones too, but it’s usually because the little black tip at the bottom of my heel has come off and one of my shoes becomes the slippery exposed nail of death…or because I’m drunk. I play along.

She’s staying in Copley. I inform her that if she likes Ferragamo, she’s staying in a good part of town to go shopping. She says, “I know! I passed a La Perla store on my way in, I’m going to go tomorrow.” $250 bras? We have so much in common!

Then I confess, “I can’t afford stuff like that.” She asks what I do, I say I’m in public relations. She responds, “I used to be in marketing.” I ask what she does now and she says, “I’m an escort. I’m my own CEO.”

Holy. Crap. I can’t speak. Is this real? Do I laugh? And then….

My phone vibrates. Bold is calling. I answer, he’s on his way. I have never hoped, prayed or Care Bear Stared for someone to get to a bar as quickly as possible as much as I did that night. Why? Because no one was going to believe this was happening unless I had a witness. Can I get a witness? Yes. Yes, I can.

“I make 30k a month.”

(Lisa quickly does the math, remembers how much she loves her parents, erases career change from her head.)

Was she lying? Of course not! She’s admitted to being an escort, why lie about the salary? Benefits, maybe. But salary? No. I believe her.

So we continue to chat. She asks my dream job. I tell her I want to be a writer. She asks if I have read Shakespeare. I say yes and we start discussing how much of what Shakespeare wrote is adapted into movies and books of today. Sure.

Then one of her friends walks up. He’s tall. Wavy brown hair that is very styled. Lots of product. His shirt looks like it’s made of gauze. This is comforting, should we need first aid supplies.

He drops a bottle on the ground and picks it up, turning to my new friend, “Is this yours?” The bottle reads: Colon Prep. She (and I don’t know if this is part of Escort 101) doesn’t even bat an eye and says, no, someone else must have dropped it.

Dejected, Gauze Shirt Guy walks back over to his table and sends Plastic-y Blonde. She repeats the same joke. I laugh, “Your friend just tried that.” She says “Oh my gosh, we all know each other, I don’t want you to be offended.” I’m not. Just confused.

Gauze Shirt Guy comes back. We all exchange pleasantries.

Bold walks in. Thank. Gosh.

He sees me, gives the obligatory head nod acknowledgment and walks towards the circus that is now surrounding me.

He looks to put down his bag when Gauze Shirt Guy asks him, this nice boy I have not seen in 12 years, if he dropped this bottle of Colon Prep.

Bold, without hesitation, says “No, I take the extra strength ones, the really big pills.”

Everyone laughs, including me, just happy he did not turn around and walk right back out the door.

At this point, we still have not greeted each other. We’re just engaged in this ridiculous conversation.

I guess I shouldn’t call it that. It wasn’t ridiculous. It actually turned quite serious.

“Follow your dreams,” she says to me, “do it before it’s too late.”

“Too many young people don’t follow their dreams and they end up regretting it later, once they find what makes them truly happy.” Thanks, Gauze Shirt Guy.

I whisper to Bold, “This story is even better than it seems, I’ll tell you later.” Man, I can’t wait to drop the “AND this woman gets paid for sex” bomb.

What is the worst thing that could happen at this point? Why of course my new (and only) escort friend tells Bold that we look great together. I’m pretty sure there was also some mention of me being beautiful on the inside. I’m not really sure. I think I started to block it out at this point.

“Surround yourself with people that will support you, no matter what you do. Surround yourself with good people. Caring people. It’s the only way to live.”

This is knowledge. This is the real deal. This is the stuff you can only learn once a man pays you for your company, I guess.

So after dropping this wisdom, they turn to leave. It was nice meeting us. It was nice meeting them.

“Follow your dreams.”

Got it.

Bold asks, “How does this get better, exactly?” I respond, “She’s an escort.”

“You’re right, it does get better,” he says. “Do you normally attract people like that?”

The crazies? You bet. Like a magnet. I think I’m just friendly looking. This is strange, because I’m so dead on the inside.

Curse you, friendly smile and giggle.

At least it made a good story though.

And yes, we did run into them again at Paddy O’s later that evening.

“Follow your dreams!” Got it, Gauze Shirt Guy. Got it.

Greetings, salutations, peace to the nations

2009-03-25T21:16:00.000-04:00

I live by myself. It’s cool. I get to come home and you know… sit.

I don’t have to worry about doing all that stuff that people do when they have roommates like…have conversations or fulfill that need/love I have to make dinner for others. Nope. Just me. Hi!

So I thought today that I should get one of those welcome slates to hang on my front door. Seems like the friendly, neighborly thing to do. Do you know what it would say?

Welcome! The Mokaba

Artist’s rendition:

**Kudos to my Dad for laughing at my sign idea and then brilliantly suggesting I just tape over the sign they already have at the house to change it from plural to singular.

Life is funny. So is that sign. And if you don't think I'm going to actually order one, you don't know me at all. And if you don't know me by now, you will never, never, never know me...oooooooooooooh.

And in case you were interested, below is the original, loving family version:

I see a storm bubbling up from the sea...and it's coming closer

2009-03-23T01:07:00.000-04:00

A few random thoughts on a Sunday night/Monday morning. It's all the same when you don't sleep.

We’ve discussed this before. My general dislike of being known as “cute.” (Go here, if you’re a rookie)

Well, we reached turning point when a boy accosted me in a bar (he physically stopped me dead in my tracks) “You are the cutest person I have ever seen in my life. You are as cute as a button.”

My reaction? I laughed. I think I’m okay with this. I mean, if he had said “pretty” or if he was nearsighted “hot”, I may have thrown my drink on him. But cute was harmless. Especially the comparison to a common clothing fastener. It made him cute. Being told you’re cute is a way better feeling than never being told anything at all. I may have changed my mind on this entire situation. What a year for changes, huh?

Speaking of cute, is there a cuter commercial in the history of television advertising than Kylie? She’s four and half. She’s a PC. She’s emailing a picture of her fish Dorothy to her family. She makes the picture better. “It’s better!” I love it. I hope that commercial never gets taken off the air.

I do not feel the same way about the “Viva, Viagra” commercials. The one where they throw every “distraction” from golf clubs to the television remote out on the patio. Um, if you need to throw general household items out on the patio to make time for and focus on marital relations, maybe your only problem isn’t ED? Resorting to trickery is not healthy. I should be a doctor.

That’s a lie. I would be a horrible doctor. I’ve recently began doubting my own intelligence. Don’t even get me started on trying to drive somewhere without getting lost. It’s nearly impossible. I’m not talking about a road trip to an exciting new place to which I’ve never been. Nope. It can be a place I’ve been to one hundred times before, I just can’t get there. If any of my close friends or family knows that I’m in a car by myself, they DREAD the phone call with my number popping up on the caller ID. It’s the same conversation every time. “Hi Lisa.” “I’m lost…”

One of my friends, knowing I was on my way to meet her, just answered, “Alright, where are you?”

I think I might be the dumbest person in the world that is allowed to travel without an aid.

I once messed up the direction “go straight.”

And finally…

Does anyone have the lead singer of Kings of Leon’s phone number? I would like to call him and tell him I love him before it is too late. Too late for what? I don’t know. I’m afraid to find out.

Strike first, strike hard, no mercy.

I'm the innocent bystander...somehow I got stuck.

2009-03-12T10:34:00.000-04:00

Acting is difficult. It truly is a craft. I really believe that some people pour themselves into roles, get into character and become who they are selected to portray. It is very difficult. I totally can’t do it.

Take my friend Andy, for example. He has the most ridiculously awesome sideburn/chops going on right now, just for a role. They are outrageous. Seriously. The kid looks like Wolverine. And he has a day job…he works in finance! Can you imagine handing over your finances to a kid that looks like Wolverine?

(In fact, I think I might prefer to hand my finances over to Wolverine, as opposed to any middle-aged white guy in a suit. Why? Because those are the assholes that seem to be robbing people. Have you turned on the news lately? You don’t see any of the X-Men conducting pyramid schemes. You only see them fighting crime. “Never trust a salt and pepper haired white guy in a suit and trench coat with your money” has become my new “never trust a big butt and a smile.”)

You know who is totally not a master of her craft? Julia Roberts. Holy crap.

That woman plays the same character every single time. I can’t believe she keeps getting cast in movies.

She has a new movie coming out with Clive Owen and it’s called “Duplicity.” Fitting, considering she just basically duplicates all of her previous characters.

If, IF, I ever decided to see that movie (which would totally not be in the theater, but for hypothetical purposes we’ll say I got it on NetFlix…wayyyy down in the queue) I would not be the LEAST bit surprised if her corporate spy character actually used to be a high priced (but with a heart of gold) prostitute who got to retire from the corner after she took down a big corporation for giving low-income people cancer through the water. This of course would be where she got all of her savvy to take on a casino not once but twice…clearly overcompensating for her heart being broken by her best friend at his wedding.

I bet at some point in this new movie, she opens her mouth really wide and does a one syllable “HA!” laugh because she’s really surprised at something that was said.

I’m just guessing.

Additional random thoughts:

- Four minutes = total duration of phone call with my Mum yesterday. 93 = total number of times she said “be careful!” before she hung up. Be careful of what? The world?

- Sometimes I wonder if the people that work at the convenience store near my apartment think I’m a phenomenal athlete because I am constantly in there in the morning buying Gatorade. The real reason is that I drank too much the night before but I like to think they assume I’m Misty May Treanor…or Nancy Kerrigan.

If you don't, you’ll be alone…and like a ghost…I’ll be gone

2009-03-09T23:58:00.000-04:00

Not that I ever needed reinforcement that the people around me think I’m a hazard to myself, this latest gem comes from one of my (now adorably overprotective) sisters. After realizing that some new…ah…lifestyle changes mean that there is a good chance I’ll be in the company of people she does not know, she suggested that we establish a series of ground rules for me leaving my apartment, and most importantly, that I begin wearing a GPS anklet.

I mean, I guess I see her point. I’m sure my interactions with new people will inevitably lead to the day all reason eludes me and I decide to get into a windowless van because some guy needs help finding his dog (you’re right, I am MUCH more likely to fall for the candy in the car line…but definitely not if it was one of those vans that does have windows and those creepy curtains), it will be exponentially easier to find my body.

See, people, I’m not joking about that whole “black sheep” thing. The bar has been set for me at “don’t die.” So far so good!

Steppin down to a six when you're workin with 10?

2009-03-03T21:03:00.000-05:00

Question.

If you were going to make a cookie, an oatmeal cookie, why would you EVER reach for raisins instead of chocolate chips?

Do you really want an oatmeal raisin cookie more than an oatmeal chocolate chip one?

This makes no sense to me.

That’s like answering all the questions on a test correctly…but then erasing the last few answers because you’d rather get a C instead of an A. Essentially the same amount of effort, but you’re actively choosing inferiority.

Sure, oatmeal raisin cookies are good, but a little piece of me always questions the judgement of the baker.

This is actually something I thought about today. The sandwich place I went to had lots of oatmeal raisin cookies and frankly, I found it disappointing.

I also thought about my entire life and decisions I've made and what I am doing with myself and where I am going and what I can change and things I can fix and things I have to accept and things that are out of my control...but that was so boooooring.

Choose chocolate chips. Time for a change.

Once the pen hits the pad it's danger…to this I be no stranger

2009-03-02T21:27:00.000-05:00

I had a lot of random thoughts go through my head today and I would like to share some with you.

Sharing is caring.

(Unless you are sharing needles...that is so dangerous! Didn’t you see RENT?! I did. It was TERRIBLE. I was really expecting something life changing but I couldn’t get past them singing “how are we gonna pay last year’s rent.” Last year’s rent? What? You haven’t paid your rent in a year?)

I think there is practically nothing more valuable in life than a sincere apology. You know what is not an apology? “That was months ago, get over it!” No. No I won’t because you’re still a jerk, today. You were a jerk months ago, you’re a jerk right now. In real-time.

Another favorite of mine is “I’m sorry you’re mad.” You’re apologizing….for my reaction? I don’t think you can do that. That is not effective at all. I’m sorry...you’re a jerk?

The one thing that might be more valuable than that is the ability to say thank you.

I think that if I went to find a roommate on Craigslist, I could convince that person to pay $200 towards my rent each month if I made dinner for him/her 3x a week. Unfortunately, the thought of living with someone random right now makes me sweat in my armholes, but I still think it’s a solid plan. I make a really good steak. I’ve also mastered homemade mac and cheese.

That kind of sounded like I was writing an online dating profile.

I had such an overwhelming craving for carrot cake today that if some 2009 extreme version of the Super Girl Scouts came selling carrot cake door-to-door, I would have paid $50 for one cake. I would have totally regretted it afterwards, but that’s what I do, make horrendous spending decisions and regret later. With cream cheese frosting breath. And red leather pants.

Sometimes I can hear the guys that live next to me…have… “conversations”…with girls. It’s a quiet building. Lucky for me (and unlucky for them) it never lasts that long. ZING!

Did it just get awkward in here?

I’m fairly confident that it was unnecessary for my landlord to snowplow behind my building (re: Right up against my apartment..first floor...windows unlocked! Come say hi!) at 6:30 this morning. There are no doors behind my building, access is completely unnecessary. I think this could have waited until mid-morning. How about you take that snow blower and go take care of my parking spot? I’m one of the six grey Honda Accords in my lot, I’m sure you’ll find it.

I recently experienced a merging of best home friends with best non-home friend and the result was a night where I have never laughed so hard in my whole life (also during a time when laughter, combined with alcohol, was a much needed medicine). I think my friends might be the funniest people in the world. Brilliant theories on life and relationships. Some may be posted here eventually. (Teaser! Be sure to tune in!)

Did you know most of my blog titles are song lyrics?

I’m obsessed with adoption. I once tried to convince my Dad to adopt “Wednesday’s Child” because the featured child on the interview was a teenage boy that wants to go to BC. My Dad said no and also reassured me that they would not let a 27-year old adopt a teenager. I will when I’m older though, I can’t help it. I can’t imagine being a teenager without a family.

And finally, for the record, I despise the use of any abbreviation for laughter. LOL, ROFL, LMAO, ugh. The one time I allllmost thought it was okay was when my Mum told me she thought LOL meant “lots of love.” That’s adorable! That is totally an acceptable use. Now, as it turns out, my Mum doesn’t actually think I’m funny as her text messages had led me to believe…but that’s okay because it just means she loves me. A lot. Perfect. That’s all I need. Serious face.

Investigating the joint for traps, checking my telephone for taps

2009-02-19T13:56:00.000-05:00

Tangents.

I feel like that is exactly how my brain works. There are times when I have no idea why I am talking about a certain subject, but when I backtrack into how a certain conversation came about, it is pretty clear that I’m a lunatic (and very easily distracted).

The other day I was laughing about the early seasons of the Cosby Show. So good. Easily some of the funniest material to ever hit the small screen. Rudy’s slumber party? The scene where Dr. Huxtable is bouncing kids on his knee playing “bucking horse” and then Peter (the child that looked like the baby from the show “Dinosaurs”) climbs up there and falls halfway off. Oh man.

Sidenote: Did you know that Keisha Knight-Pulliam is the youngest actress ever to be nominated for an Emmy? She was nominated at age six for best supporting actress. This information is brought to you by the awesome trivia DJ guy from Wednesday...who would have been even more awesome had he not tried to talk me out of believing that Sam Oktoberfest is one of the greatest beers on the market...but I digress…obviously. See?!

Anyway. So the reason I was thinking about the Cosby Show was because I had quoted the episode in which Stevie Wonder had appeared. The recording studio. Jammin on the one. R-R-R-Robert. Television gold.

I got asked, “where did that come from?” and was embarrassed by my answer.

I was scanning headlines and saw a mention of the Jonas Brothers.

When I thought of the Jonas Brothers I thought back to how angry I was that they got to perform with Stevie Wonder at the Grammys. How did that even happen? It’s Stevie Wonder! Every time one of those little Jonas girls yelled, “Come on Stevie!” I wanted to choke them by their kerchiefs. They should not be on the same stage with him, never mind address him casually.

When I thought of Stevie Wonder and how ridiculously awesome he is, I started to think of favorite songs…silly shirts….extremely tight and well kept braids….and that time he appeared on the Cosby Show. Man, I love the Cosby Show.

So that’s how my brain works. Jonas Brothers to Cosby Show. It’s like a Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon-type deal. A game that I am horrible at because I’m just not good at remembering who is in what movie…but man, I love the Cosby Show.

Sometimes in life you feel the fight is over, it seems as though the writing's on the wall

2009-02-06T13:46:00.000-05:00

I'm really trying to...how do you say...not be a lazy piece of crap and actually keep up on this blogging thing. In an effort to become a better writer, I'm open to hearing what everyone who reads my blog thinks about it. Any feedback is very much appreciated. I'm always open to criticism, helpful hints or topic suggestions.

Here are some blog reviews I've received recently:

"i have color me blah saved on my favorites at work. i laughed the entire time i read your posts in an office by myself." - Ocifer Kel

"it embiggens my cromulent life" - anonymous

"Dad and I were laughing our asses off" - My Mom

"btw-- I am thoroughly enjoying your recent blog posts.love the part about how you would do a study, since college students do studies on stupid shit all the time." - Person with my career in his hands

"I didn't read it" - My boyfriend

"diggin the blog. keep it up.And start doing some serious writing, dammit. You're good at it." - Future award-winning screenplay writer Pat

"FYI: Things not to do when you're on a conference call for work:

1. Read "Color Me BLAH."

2. Laugh so hard that you audibly fart.

3. Pretend like it was static on the phone, get so embarrassed that you hang up and call right back, saying that your phone is going in and out of service."

- Mikey Tonka Truck

You're so pretty the way you are...and you have no reason to be so slick to me

2009-02-05T20:44:00.000-05:00

I get it.

All little girls want to be pretty. Girls love to play dress up. You dream of being a princess. The most beautiful girl in the world. My favorite dress was this sassy yellow number that, as far as I was concerned, was woven in the looms of heaven by God himself. It was my Easter dress but I swear to Christmas I would have worn that dress every day if my Mum would have let me.

But she didn’t let me. Why? Because my mom loves me. I wanted to be a beauty queen; she wanted me to grow into a fully functioning adult.

You know who does not have the same respect for her daughter? Any mom on my new favorite TLC disaster “Toddlers and Tiaras.” How is this nonsense even legal?

You essential “trick out” your child. It should be called “Pimp my Child” only I’m sure the connotation of the word pimp would cause national outrage. But let’s be honest, I watched a mom put fake teeth into her very young daughter’s smile to make her stand out on stage. You just put “22s” on your little girl.

If I was allowed to judge these pageants, I would most certainly have the following conversation with many, many moms. Let’s pretend for a moment I’m judging “Lil’ Miss Boston Baked Bean.” (I just made that up, but that is an AWESOME name, someone make this happen.)

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Hi. Yes. Okay. Ma’am I’m a little concerned about your daughter, Brandie Wine. Yes, she’s adorable. Hey, but we, over here at the judges table are a little…concerned…about her makeup. Yes. We think you may have applied her makeup using the $300 As Seen On TV Alexis Vogel Makeup kit. You did? Okay. Yes, we know, the smoky eyes do “pop” on stage but you have to understand that makeup kit was developed by the woman who created Pam Anderson’s signature cat eye. Ma’am, yes it’s beautiful, but Pam Anderson is an adult film star. Your daughter is six.”

These are not stage moms. These are monsters.

One rule of “Lil’ Miss Boston Baked Bean” would be that you absolutely cannot wear makeup. The second rule would involve a mandatory dance sequence based on the movie “Little Miss Sunshine.” Olive was a beauty queen with a loving family. Brandie Wine is gonna end up in movies that you need the security code on your remote to pay-to-view.

To each their own I guess, and parents show their love in different ways. I’m just not sure these moms have their daughters’ best interests in mind. Also, don’t let any of those little hussies and their psycho Moms near my nephews….

'Cause when my leader sings that's all she wrote..I want the antidote.

2009-02-03T23:38:00.000-05:00

Antidote. Anecdote. Seamless.

My dad is a retired teacher. Being the daughter of a teacher you get access to some cool stuff, like free tutoring. Haha, kidding. That never went well. Did I mention my dad taught calculus?

Lisa: Dad, I need help on this problem.
Dad: Okay…well, first, you start by looking at xyz. You know how to do xyz, right?
Lisa: No.
Dad: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO XYZ?!?

*AND SCENE!*

One of my favorite Dad-is-a-teacher memories was attending his school’s graduation. It was interesting. Different from Wakefield. Why? Because the student body didn’t look like…well…milk.

One year, when I was about 14 years old, I went with Dad to graduation. I remember it clearly. I was wearing a blue dress. Graduation was inside of a church, I think the temperature hovered somewhere around “magma.” After the ceremony, I was outside waiting for my dad to finish up talking to absolutely every single student to pass through the halls ever when I noticed a family staring at me. I didn’t know why, so I stared at my feet. Seemed like the right thing to do.

Finally, the Mom just came out and asked. “Are you Nancy Kerrigan?”

At this point, calculus made more sense than this question.

I said no. The family looked dejected. I ruined graduation.

I look NOTHING like Nancy Kerrigan. First of all, I was 14. That means I was extremely awkward.

Second of all, I had at least 45 lbs on Nancy Kerrigan. If Nancy Kerrigan was an Olympic ice cream eater, not figure skater, maybe, but this really wasn’t even close.

Third, I had some serious eyebrows. I looked more like Rudy Galindo than Nancy Kerrigan.

To make matters worse (or better?) I was also approached by a student and asked for my phone number. Still 14 and still awkward, I said no and noticed my dad watching from a distance, amused by the entire exchange.

(This is rivaled as my most awkward “approach by a creepy person” only by the time my Mom and sister were LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY in the middle of Stop & Shop when I was approached by a man named Victor and asked for my phone number. I was about 16. He was at least 40. He was wearing denim overalls.)

Memories are fun.

Do you ever dream of candy-coated raindrops?

2009-02-03T11:36:00.000-05:00

Oh, Facebook. How I love you so. You’ve created this phenomenon known as “25 things” and I’m happy to take part. Jon did. I will too.

Of course none of these are mind-blowing revelations. (Unless we're strangers, in which case I ask, what are you doing here?)

And so we begin….

1. If Yankee Candle made a “Sautéed Peppers and Onions” candle I would buy it.

2. The girls in Wilson Phillips have the same coloring as my sisters and me. That makes me the fat one. The same goes for the three fairies in Sleeping Beauty. Why are the brunettes the fat ones? This gave me a complex as a youth. If I were a PhD student, I would investigate this and write a paper on it. Why? Because PhD students investigate and write papers on stupid shit all the time.

3. I pass out when I have blood drawn or watch people have blood drawn or listen to people discuss having blood drawn. It’s called a vasovagal episode. I know when it’s coming because I start yawning. I’m yawning right now.

4. I have one tattoo. “Blood drawing” needles and “happy tattoo drawing” needles do not register the same way in my brain.

5. I would rather buy new clothes than do laundry.

6. I love greeting cards.

7. I am the black sheep of my family. It’s not as bad as it sounds because when you’re the black sheep in a family of wonderfulness, nothing bad can ever happen to you no matter how bad you mess up.

8. I’m an excellent cook.

9. I once lived with a boy for less time than some people go on vacation. It was like a sabbatical. A sabbatical from normal, decent people.

10. I am infuriated (almost irrationally) by small, inconsiderate actions. There is nothing that busts my buttons more than not being treated with basic, common courtesy. More so than when people that are real jerks. Why? Because it’s basic and common for a reason: it’s easy.

11. I think people that wear Bluetooth headsets outside of their cars are DBs. (Mom, text me if you don’t know what that means)

12. During any disagreement or debate, I’m really good at explaining exactly how I feel about something and why I feel that way. I also can provide examples that have lead me to feel the way I do. I can articulate this to you clearly. This does not make me a bitch. If you cannot do the same, this also does not make me a bitch. I will never apologize for this ability ever again. (collective shudder by men across the Northeast.) The above referenced ability does not make me right or wrong in any given debate or argument. It just means you’ll know my side, whether you agree with it or not.

13. I cannot eat string pasta or chicken wings in a restaurant. Ribs, forget about it.

14. I get serious anxiety watching people embarrass themselves on TV, regardless of whether it is “reality” TV or a scripted sitcom. I usually won’t even try to watch, unless forced to by whoever is holding the remote.

15. I have never been able to do a cartwheel.

16. I’m a freakishly energetic insomniac. This is most likely doing irreparable damage to my body and I hope it lands me on the show “House.” I’m sure it will involve me coughing up blood.

17. I wanted to be a marine biologist until someone told me I would never have a job or make any money. I went to business school instead. I question this decision.

18. I hate Billy Joel.

19. I have a big butt. I’m cool with it.

20. I love fishing.

21. I have a giant hematoma on my leg. I hit a hurdle during a track meet my junior year of high school. Its name is “Quadzilla.”

22. I bruise ridiculously easy, to the point that it worries my Mum.

23. I still believe that the reason I’m so in the dark about the paternal side of my family is because I’m actually a member of some royal family and they are just waiting for the right time to come tell me. Still waiting.

24. I put hot sauce on macaroni and cheese.

25. The sound of the door creaking open, as well as the laugh that Vincent Price does at the end of the song, during “Thriller” used to make me cry when I was little.

We're just ordinary people...we don't know which way to go...

2009-01-19T21:18:00.000-05:00

My life can be pretty boring. My days are pretty routine. Wakeup, shower, work, lunch, work, home, dinner, television, sleep, repeat.

Occasionally the gym will be thrown in there. Or beer. Or Trivia. Friends. Family. Still pretty routine.

Perfectly ordinary. And that…is….great!

The alternative? Beyond ordinary. Or rather “Beyond Ordinary.” Still not understanding?

How about:

OnDemand => TV Entertainment => Discovery Networks=>TLC => Beyond Ordinary

You know who you’ll find there? The Man Whose Arms Exploded.

Gregg Valentino. 28 inch biceps. It looked like he had tennis balls in his arms. I bet if his arms had a commercial, they could bring back Ellio's kid and have him go "blub blub blub" because that's what I am reminded of by his arms. Blub, blub, blub.

You may also meet his friend, Octopus Man. Or Ukrainian tall drink of water, Leonid Stadnyk. He’s checking out the scene at a towering 8 feet 4 inches. Or “Incredibly Small” Kenadie Jourdin, a two year old who weighs 8 lbs and is 24 inches long.

I don’t even know what they would title my “Beyond Ordinary” documentary.

“The Girl Who Likes Hot Dogs Too Much”
“The Girl That Overquotes the Simpsons”
“The Girl That Can’t Stop Giggling”

Sounds pretty lame. Awesomely lame. Awesomely ordinary. And that's just fine with me.

Now it's out into the open...I call her, ring ring, she's not there...

2009-01-14T23:43:00.000-05:00

So apparently there has been a little controversy surrounding my last post. Thinly veiled references are just that, and you may have thought that I was talking about…well…..you.

I think we should use this as an opportunity to learn about ourselves and grow. Walk with me for a moment….

(And we’ll change names to hide actual identities)

I have a friend named Gym.

Gym thought I was talking about him when I mentioned a “grumpy curmudgeon.” For the record, I was not. The person I was talking about doesn’t even know I have a blog. I’m not even sure he knows my last name. Let’s be honest, he may not care that I’m alive but he is connected to my life and a big fat grumpy curmudgeon. Moving on.

Gym. I was not talking about you but you thought I was…does….does that mean that you think that you are, in fact, a grumpy curmudgeon? Have you been called that before? Even though I wasn’t talking about you, maybe you should still try to be happier in 2009? Less curmudgeon-ish?

Another example. If you read my post and said “did she just say I wasn’t funny?” do you know what that means? That means that I think your girlfriend looks like a praying mantis…and so do YOU!

It registered. I mean, the reference was pretty broad. You thought I was talking about you. That means somewhere, in the deep recesses of your soul, you think your girlfriend looks like a praying mantis.

Maybe you should rethink that? Maybe you shouldn’t date that girl? What would she say if she knew I made a reference to an insect and you thought I was talking about her? That’s just cruel. (And since we’re being honest, I would not only say praying mantis, but also Flik from “A Bug’s Life”)

I probably was not talking about you in my blog. But if, even for a moment, you thought I was….maybe you need to do some soul searching.

Live. Love. Grow. That’s what sarcastic blogs are all about.

Welcome to the fray….

Control yourself. Take only what you need from it.

2009-01-12T21:49:00.000-05:00

Lots of people take a few months off during the winter. Like bloggers…and baseball players. Now that that is out of the way….

I have a proposition. 2009. “The Year That Everyone Tries to be Nice to One Another.” How about it? Yes? No?

Now I’m not talking overly nice. I’m talking run-of the mill nice.

If someone says hi to you in the hallway at work…say hi back. Smile.

Smile..even if you don’t feel like it.

Say thank you. Say please.

Why?

No one wants to deal with your negativenessocity. Do not make your bad day part of my good day.

Am I a nice person? Majority of the time, yes. Do I talk about people? Yes. Do I have bad days? Oh yeah.

For example, here is a list of Facebook status messages I have wanted to post but did not:

Lisa thinks...your girlfriend looks like a praying mantis and you are not funny

Lisa thinks…you are a grumpy curmudgeon and I’m tired of reaching out to you

Lisa thinks…your Halloween costume was unoriginal

Lisa says…just because you’re skinny, doesn’t mean you’re pretty

Lisa thinks...you peaked in high school

And so on, and so forth.

There are some issues one can run into by being a nice person. My least favorite is a phenomenon I like to call “too cool.” When you notice a common friend, or a shared interest with someone, and attempt quick small talk. The person responds as if you are trying to establish a deep connection and eventually get matching wrist tattoos with both of your names on it and half of a design so when you put your two wrists together, it makes the infinity symbol. Get over yourself. I was just bringing up a “small world” situation because I happened to like this mutual friend or see if I could get additional information about this shared interest. Not you.

Okay, that seemed angry, but it’s not. It’s more eye-roll-inducing than anything. I will still continue to be nice to everyone, even if it is not reciprocated.

I just think that if the three people that read this blog make an extra effort to be nice in 2009, the world will be a better place.

And those that aren’t nice…will continue to be called out in thinly veiled passive aggressive blog posts.

NICE IN ’09! CATCH THE FEVER!

Go on and put your ear to the ground, you know you will be hearing that sound....

2008-09-09T02:43:00.000-04:00

Have you ever met someone and felt a connection?

Like a for real, serious face connection?

It’s like every word this person says is a direct reflection of the deepest recesses of your soul? Echoing thoughts and feelings that you never believed you could share with another person?

The very idea that there is someone in the world that not only understands you, but feels the same way, rocks you to the core of your being?

Like, “for reals” feelings. Feelings that I didn’t even know I could admit to myself.

I’ve met that person and I’m scared.

Scared of rejection? Scared to end up alone? Scared it’s too soon?

No.

Scared because that person is Amy Winehouse and that bitch is on crack.

Besides our obvious shared love for liquid eyeliner for daytime wear, we both run around just so we don’t have to think about thinking.

Our tears dry on their own.

We can both sniff out Tanqueray.

I relate to every song.

(Except maybe Rehab, I think the closest I’ve come to needing rehab was when I almost put myself in a diabetic coma by eating an entire bowl of uncooked brownie mix one night in college. What? We made it without eggs. Make brownies not frownies.)

I guess it just goes to prove that you can find a soulmate in the last place you would expect. Maybe it’s a colleague of your best friend that you’ll meet in a local bar. Maybe it’s a boy from your fifth grade class. Maybe that person is passed out in a dark alley known for its thriving and active drug community.

I guess the moral of the story is that he/she is out there. Keep looking. Also, don’t do drugs.

Life: The Compliment Sandwich

2008-07-30T23:18:00.000-04:00

If you’ve ever had a performance review, you know all about the compliment sandwich.

It’s supposed to lessen the blow of criticism. It gives you a high five, punches you in the face and ends with ice cream.

Por ejemplo:

“Jackie, you are extremely creative and bring some great ideas to team meetings. Unfortunately, you are a horrible writer and we’re terminating your employment, effective immediately. Lastly, I like those earrings, green is a good color on you.”

See what I did there?

I’ve decided to add a reoccuring theme to my blog called “Life: The Compliment Sandwich” and discuss something I like, something I hate, and then something I like, again. Hopefully, by using this tried-and-true feedback method, life will eventually improve its overall performance.

Life, I love….

The combination apple corer/slicer. Holy cow. This had made eating an apple an efficient and enjoyable experience. I won’t even consider eating an apple without one. I have one in my office and one at home. I don’t know how I survived without it for so long. All that gnawing and spinning the apple in your hand to approach it from another angle. If you don’t stop biting soon enough, you end up at the seeds. I never really had that problem because about three bites into an apple, I was bored and just stopped. Apple? No thanks, that seems like too much work. I always wished apples came in neat, prepackaged slices like its long time comparative counterpart, the orange. Combination apple corer/slicer makes what seemed like an impossible dream…a reality.

Life, I hate….

Puka shell necklaces on guys. Stop the insanity. It’s like a beacon hanging from your neck , just peeking around the corner of your collar, telling women around you, “Hey ladies, do NOT take me seriously.”

Guys, if you’re approaching a rack of necklaces and other assorted neck wear, recite the following:

If it’s from the sea...just let it be.

Life, I love….

Unexpectedly finding money in a pair of jeans, winter coat, during a purse change or inside of the front pocket of a hooded sweatshirt. The other day I was making a brown purse to black purse transition and found $10 in the small zippered section. Granted, that money was mine to begin with, so it’s not like it’s “new money” and all of a sudden you have $10 you didn’t have before. You always had it, you just didn’t know its exact location. Here I am, going about my day, having NO idea that I’m secretly on a treasure hunt. You would have thought I found the meaning of life. Maybe the meaning of life is money by surprise? If money was no object (which it very much is) I would just hide money in clothes on purpose, to be found at a later date. You know, be the change you wish to see in the world....

Don't call it a comeback...

2008-07-27T22:50:00.000-04:00

And hello.

So I’ve been on a little hiatus. A blogging sabbatical, if you will.

There has just been a lot going on up in this piece. Some good, some bad, some crazy awesome, some horrendously unawesome.

I haven’t really been doing a lot of writing and I’ve clearly failed you. I’ll make you cookies (or buffalo chicken dip), just ask and you shall receive.

I’ve been trying to figure out what to write as my “comeback” post and was inspired by a little touch of heaven. A website we all know, some love, some hate, some use it to stalk, some use it to date….and all I know is, MySpace has been cracking me up lately.

What is it about the online community that makes people turn into creepy lunatics? Honestly.

Talking to people, in real life, is just not that difficult. After about age 20, if you tell me you’re shy and can’t talk to people, I might try to punch you in the face. You’re not shy; you’re just not trying hard enough. If you’re normal, just say normal things. Simple.

The same rules apply when talking to people online. Usually if you’re writing to someone online, it’s completely unsolicited. That being said, mayyybe try a simple introduction. A nice, PG-rated compliment. Some inquiries about one’s day, life or interests? Perfect.

Am I going to write you back? Probably not. I’m not looking to meet anyone. However, even if I was, which I am not, most of these guys would never get a reply because on a scale of 1 to 10, they are scoring an ELEVENTY on the creepy-meter.

What do they say, you ask? Well read on, kind sir or madam. Below please find my top five creepiest messages I’ve been sent recently. What would compel a person to respond kindly to these messages? Why do these guys, ages ranging from 22 through 36 years, lack the grammar, spelling and punctuation skills of a 10-year-old child? Is one of these an actual threat? Am I going to hell for posting these? You bet. Was I going before I posted these? You bet. Behold! (My comments and edits are in bold)

Subject: hello
Body: you are awesome! not 2 many girls are like you at all!! nice, pretty and sweet...well unless you have an evil side that is vicous!!! Niiiiice (what?)

Subject: hello
Body: Hello , I dont know how to beggin my message, but i will try, and i think i have to do it, to say all what i think...
So first, my name is *deleted*, i'm from morocco, i'm 30 yrs old, and i'm running a business of real estate, in marrakech, the city were i was born and where i'm living.
So let me say then, that i have seen ur profile, and i found it so interesting, that's why i'm sending this message, but let me say too, that i find u so beautiful, so sweet, and u sound a very interesting person.
So, that would be a great pleasure for me to talk to u and get know u if there is no prblm? So i will not be longer, i just shall say I wait ur message ... impatiently and i hope that I will get an answer from u, that would be really a great thing for me. take care sweet lady, and have a good time (what?)

Subject: hey
Body: add me as a friend im the funniest mother f**ker you will ever talk to i promise im a stand up comic by trade i will have you laughing your beautiful little a** off everyday no sh*t give me a chance if you dont think im funny you can block me this is my job ill have you rolling on the floor i need the practice and you are adorable (ummmmmmm)

Subject: No Subject
Body: U are very very sexy :) I would love to b on my hands and knee's tonight obeying ur every and any order ! Sorry If I pissed u off. I had to b honest (actual cell phone number) give me a text or call ; - )
(This guy is single. Can you believe it, ladies?!?)

Subject: No Subject
Body: What's up You're kinda cute and seem like a semi-normal person with a fun sense of humor , perhaps you'll consider getting in touch with me. No, not touching me...GEEZ we don't even know each other. Talking..
Check out my profile, I think we'd get along well and make friends not to mention enjoy some stimulating conversation and if you're lucky perhaps we could meet up someday for a cup of tea "wink".

(That last one got included, not for the touching comment, but rather for the wink after the cup of tea. I don’t really know what that means. I don’t really want to know what that means. Boys are scary.)

*sigh*

You can go your own way...

2008-06-16T22:58:00.000-04:00

I get that pedestrians have the right of way. Fine. That crosswalk is made for walking, and that's just what you'll do.

You'll walk in front of my car, we'll make eye contact, you'll wave and say "thank you." I will put four fingers up while still holding the top of my steering wheel with my thumb to say "no problem!"

I deal with this daily. The town that I live in has a pretty crowded Main Street with crosswalks about every 25 feet. It's a pretty expected interaction.

My one plea to citizens of ColorMeBlah-ville...maybe stop before walking in a crosswalk? Give the old, "Oh, does this person see me? Are we making eye contact? Is he/she going to slow down? Yes? Ok. Great! I will proceed."

Please, for the love of all that is good and right and just and great, do NOT put on an Invisibility Cloak, crouch down and hide behind a parked car adjacent to the crosswalk and then BOLT out into the crosswalk like Jesse Owens.

You know who you are. I hate you.

Re! Spect! Walk!

2008-06-12T23:09:00.000-04:00

Are you talking to me?

Do you ever have those days when you just feel like taking it slow? Looking around, admiring the world. Maybe you'll notice the little things you usually overlook. Wow, those forsythia bushes are in full bloom. I never realized that doorway had an arch to it, what a neat and interesting architectural element. The light reflecting through that prism hanging from the rearview mirror of that Pontiac Grand Am creates a rainbow on the dashboard, what a happy sight to see as you walk to your car...

Well, if you are going to be that person, please DO NOT walk in front of me.

I do not want to walk slow, I want to get where I'm going. I walk at a brisk pace of about 25-30 miles per hour and if you are going to be the jerk in front of me that walks slowly down the frozen food aisle of Market Basket, I'm going to get pretty upset. I can only assume the sub-zero temperature of that aisle is slowing your movement down as your body prepares to protect itself against hypothermia but I want my Lean Cuisine and still have to turn the corner to get milk, yogurt and shredded cheese so get the HELL out of my way.

Sure, being a fast walker has its disadvantages. I think I've almost killed about 11 employees at work because I take corners at Mach 3 and narrowly avoid full-on collisions. Turnover is high at PR agencies anyway, so running someone over and causing a career-ending injury (re: death) while on my way to get a Diet Coke is a risk I'm willing to take.

The way I figure it, there is plenty of time to walk slowly...and that time is when you are old. When you're old, you just can't move that quickly. Your body won't let you. It's like your body is telling you, "Hey, slow down big guy, take a look around...take it all in..appreciate it....because you're dying." (Too much?)

Well not this girl. My little stumps for legs still have a pretty quick turnover so it's life in the fast lane for me. GOOOOOO!

(And while we’re talking about movement, no, I will not share the road with you, Cyclists….get a car. )

Shhh...I'm sleeping...wait, no I'm not.

2008-06-03T02:35:00.000-04:00

So I was shooting the crap with a good friend the other day and he was discussing how some of his best comedy/story/blog ideas come to him in his sleep, but that he always forgets them after he wakes up. The conversation went like this, "I had a dream I wrote the FUNNIEST blog post for you the other day...but I forget what it was about...I think it had to do with Styrofoam."

I encouraged him to keep a notebook by his bed, a la Jerry Seinfeld, but that is way too much work. I mean, turning on the light, sitting up AND writing?

And then we thought of it. Eureka’s castle! A dream recorder! More specifically, a Sony Dream Recorder (much like Mike Birbiglia's Sony Teleporter).

Somewhat "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" but with dreams instead of memories. You wake up and view your dreams on a screen. Rewinding..fast forwarding..erasing..saving until I delete...a DVR for dreams. The awesomeness of this is astounding. The blackmail potential if it ended up in the wrong hands? Endless.

Someone make this happen.

But a fun Lisa fact is that I don't actually sleep, so this wonderful invention wouldn’t even be of use to me. I have horrible insomnia and a remarkable tolerance for terrible late night/early morning television....BUT I used to sleep..and I used to have dreams...and they were always the same.

1) The power of flight. I could fly. It was great. A much preferred mode of travel. It was flying..but more like swimming through the air. I would start walking to school...only I would run a few steps, jump...and swim/fly, occasionally resting on a tree branch when I needed a break. Even in my dreams, I am out of shape and lazy.

2) Spitting out my teeth. I'm pretty sure this portends some sort of illness (grrrrreat) but I would be sitting reading a book or knitting or doing some other mindless task…and then would start spitting out my teeth like marbles. It was so weird. I used to have that dream all the time..then I got really sick. No, just kidding..that last part didn't happen....*cough*

3) My knees give out. The complete opposite of my awesome flying skill dream is when I try to run, walk or climb stairs, and I can’t stand up, so I kind of crawl..ish. It’s not like a sudden injury..it’s just how I walked. This also doesn’t seem like it could have possibly come from a positive place…I’m sure lacking the ability to stand up is not indicative of “a sudden cash windfall” or “overcoming an obstacle at work.”

So tell me your dreams. No, not like aspirations and crap. I just don’t have the desire to play along, sitting here being all “if you put your mind to it..” or “everything happens for a reason…” or “shoot for the moon and if you miss you land among the stars blah blah blah.” I mean like actual dreams. Like that nightmare where you give a class presentation but you aren’t wearing pants…or you’re running through the woods because you’re being chased by a chainsaw wielding madman (scary!)…or you move in with your boyfriend and then move out two months later (Yikes! I’ll take the madman!) So..dream a little dream for me…..

I drove all night....

2008-05-11T21:43:00.000-04:00

Have you ever thought something and then became embarrassed for yourself and relieved that no one can actually hear your thoughts? I do that pretty regularly. There are two situations in particular, both having to do with driving, where I just can't stop myself from having the most ridiculous reactions...then I give myself the embarrassed chills and proceed to repeat the reaction again whenever the situation presents itself. I just don't learn.

1. Whenever I'm driving (particularly at night), and the person in front of me throws a cigarette out the window...I watch the tiny red glow bounce off the ground as I drive towards it....AND BRACE MYSELF because I'm convinced my car is going to blow up as soon as I pass over it...it never does...but it could one day...and I don't know enough about cars to convince myself otherwise. A cigarette is a flame and a car is a moving tank of gasoline with a sunroof. BRACE!

2. While driving next to a big truck, if I can see an overpass in the distance, I start to think "Oh man, there's no way that truck is gonna make it under that overpass, it's way too tall and I think the overpass might be tooOHMYGOSH IT MADE IT!!" Phew. I end up feeling like that guy in The Neverending Story (Engywook) who yells "He made it! He made it!" and tumbles out of the basket after Atreyu runs through the Sphinx gate. That guy always gave me the creeps.

I'm not sure what it is about those two situations that illicit such a strong reaction from me, but I'm sure glad no one can hear my thought process when it happens....so don't tell anyone about this, K? Shhh...

What's Joey's favorite food? Sandwiches.

2008-05-08T13:49:00.001-04:00

If you know me, you know that my favorite food in the whole world...is hot dogs. I know. I'm a classy broad. I'm confident enough to stand by my food choices. "Eww, do you know what goes in those?" Yes, yes I do, and I love love love it! You could tell me the secret ingredients are puppies or dead fairies and I would still order two at Fenway. Actually, I love dead fairies, make that three.

(Of note: The people that usually laugh and snark-ily respond "that's wicked classy, Lisa" are also the very same people I watch stumble around drunk on weekends, wearing less-than-enough clothing and launching themselves at guys in bars like Scud missiles, with equally destructive results...so who's classy now? Go home to your wine and cats....but I digress...)

Pizza is a close second. If pizza was nominated by the whole world as "best food ever" I would fully understand. I would stand up and clap my hands in support and praise as Pizza went on stage and accepted the award at the Food Ceremony, crying pepperoni tears and talking about how all the time spent rising and being beaten down was totally worth it.

I think potato chips might be number three. We've already discussed my love of chips and dip, perhaps too much. Perhaps that's why I'm single?

There is a noticeable absence of chocolate or any kind of sweets on this list and I don't really have a reason. It's always kind of been that way. When I die, I want to be buried in a casket filled with potato chips that I can eat on my way to Hot Dog Heaven where I will meet up with Pizza and he'll introduce me to his friend, Meatball Sub...and we'll all sit down and have steak.

What are the five foods you'll meet in heaven?

Wait a second! Is that Lisa's music?

2008-04-28T12:48:00.001-04:00

I want a soundtrack. How awesome would that be? Music that just followed you everywhere, either as your calling card before entering a ring, or just to reflect your current mood. It's been in the Family Guy, I want it in my life.

Imagine how much more likely you would be to actually go grocery shopping if you knew you could moonwalk down the cereal aisle to "Billy Jean" as you happily grabbed boxes of Lucky Charms?

How much easier it would be to understand a girl's mood, if as you approached her, you heard "Symphony of Destruction," by Megadeath playing in the background.

Different songs, different scenarios.

A song for when I cartwheel out of bed in the morning, ready to take on the day! (“Fat Bottomed Girls” – Queen) A song for arriving at my desk and seeing I have 160 new emails since last night, and 19 of them are marked "urgent." (“Cool It Now” – New Edition) A song for a Friday afternoon drive home for a long weekend (“Break My Stride” – Matthew Wilder)…and then a completely different song when you hit Cape and/or Maine/NH traffic (“Why Aren’t We Moving?” – Lisa, as yelled in her Accord)

Some people have this choice, and those people are called professional baseball players.

Whether it's the walk to the plate or the jog to the mound, they get to pick a song.

Assuming I would be a "closer" (per my work review that says I'm great at coming through in the clutch, but need to work on consistency...) I've given a lot of thought to my song.

I've chosen "Da Rockwilder" by Method Man (feat. Redman) because I think it is the greatest beginning of a song, ever. I get pumped every single time I hear it. Seriously. I jog towards a mound and throw things when I hear that song, even if that mound is a pile of laundry on the floor and I’m hurling eyeliner across the room…you get my point.

So what’s your song/scenario? I’ve let you in, people…it’s only fair you do the same….

Hot vs. Cute - Tell me what you want, what you really, REALLY want....

2008-04-17T10:21:00.000-04:00

It is currently a topic of much debate and it needs to be addressed. Hot vs. Cute. What does it mean? Why does it matter?

No girl wants to just be cute. It's a fact. Girls want to be pretty or hot. Can you be both? Sure...kinda...ish.

Speaking from personal experience, being told I'm "sooooo cute" makes me want to die inside. Luckily, I am already dead inside. Moving on...

Hypothetically, if a boy told a girl that she "reminded him of a pomeranian, bouncing around smiling and laughing all the time," how is she supposed to take that? Said boy does not take said girl seriously if in his head, she resembles a lap dog.

Do boys like being told they are "cute?" Wouldn't a guy rather be hot? Is that really hard to grasp?

I'm getting heated...weigh in on comments and take the survey...ready...GO!

Red, gold and green

2008-04-16T00:03:00.000-04:00

I have this horrible habit of trusting people. Even strangers. Why? Because I'm a sucker, that's why.

I'm the perfect person to approach at North Station with the "I had a huge fight with my boyfriend this morning and we broke up and I need some money to get a train home," line. Why? Sucker. Sure, I'll see the same girl in North Station the very next day telling the exact same story to an unsuspecting stranger and for one brief fleeting moment I'll think, "You broke up with him AGAIN?! Did you not learn your lesson yesterday?"

Walking home from a bar one night my friends and I were approached by a couple in need of help. The story they told us was an intricate web of lies that my trusting soul got trapped in, not unlike the ants I used to throw into spider webs when I was younger. Granted sobriety was not exactly a shield I could protect myself with that night, but had I not been a few drinks deep at that point I most likely would have reacted the exact same way.

They were out for dinner. Their car got towed. They needed $20 to get a train home so they could go get the car. (What train costs $20? I don't know. Stay with me here.) The woman had four teeth and had clearly spent too much time in the sun as a youth (which, from what I could tell, was a very long time ago). The gentleman was a little more put together but was wearing a Starter jacket. He also claimed he was a chef at the Legal Seafood in the airport. Chefs don't lie! He actually validated it by saying, "you probably think this is a con, but it's not." What a ridiculous line. Who would possibly fall for that? This girl.

I tried to resist it. In my head, I even start to think "this is such a con," but out comes my wallet. I justify it afterwards by thinking, "Hey, maybe these people needed this money more than I do right now....maybe they are in a dire situation and aren't just con artists...maybe they have a baby who needs formula?" Probably not. The more likely story is that I just enabled a drug habit. Still gives me the warm fuzzies though, I helped someone!

So the moral of the story is...ask me for money. No. That's not it. The moral is that I hope if one day I ever have to rely on strangers in an emergency, someone will help me. Lots of crappy things could happen. What if I lost my phone and wallet simultaneously while I happened to be all alone and far away from home? Exactly. Karma is a chameleon. It come and go, come and go....and it better come my way if I need it.

Celery is nature's spoon.

2008-04-12T17:42:00.000-04:00

When you think of Einstein, you may think of the theory of relativity. It's a defining part of the legacy that he left behind and will forever be associated with his name.

I have my own theory, and while it's not as complicated as "the curvature of spacetime with the mass, energy, and momentum within it," I feel just as strongly about it.

The Theory of the Dip Vehicle.

I love potato chips. I enjoy potato chips, plain, right out of the bag. However, if you place a bowl of french onion dip on the table in front of me (or anywhere in the room for that matter, I'll find it), the chip takes on a whole new role. It's no longer a simple salty snack. The chip undergoes a metamorphosis, becoming nothing more than a vehicle for me to get as much dip into my mouth as possible. Sorry chip, I'm just using you.

This theory is reinforced across countless snack and dip combinations.

Tostitos? Great. You know what's better? Tostitos Scoops. Why? The Theory of the Dip Vehicle. The Scoop is bascially a white corn bowl of whatever you decided to eat. It is especially key for things like buffalo chicken dip, which are a little heartier and require that additional reinforcement if you're really going to get a big bite. (Note: If your preferred method of consuming buffalo chicken is freebasing, I support that as well.)

Shrimp cocktail is delicious. I will scoop, twist my arm and contort myself like Gumby to ensure the maximum amount of cocktail sauce remains on that crustacean at all times.

The vegetable platter (or crudite, if you're a snob) is a shining example of the Theory in action.

As I approach a vegetable platter (slowly and deliberately, like a cheetah stalking its prey), you might think I would reach for the carrots first, which are usually the best tasting of all the options. Carrots are, in fact, the best vegetable choice if we are living in Hell-on-Earth where we're in some sort of dip recession and are on dip rations.

However, if all is good and well in the world, the first item I'm reaching for is celery. Celery is nature's spoon. It has a groove! That groove is there for a reason. It has a purpose. The purpose is to hold some variety of dip. Sour cream based? Cream cheese? Peanut butter? Celery lovingly embraces this deliciousness with its loving cellulose arm-grooves.

Maybe some day it will be acceptable to just eat french onion dip with a spoon. That day will be my own personal V-Day. Until that day have to just approach each snacking situation carefully, holding steadfast to the Theory of the Dip Vehicle and reaching out to select the best snack for the job. I encourage you to do the same. Think before you dip. Choose wisely.

A Magical Animal

2008-04-09T11:20:00.000-04:00

There you are!

I've been trying to start this blog for about two weeks now and the main thing holding me back was the title.

I ended up with Color Me Blah because that's how I feel about a lot of things, and it also emphasizes my love for terrible music.

As it turns out, asking your friends to help you name a blog is an interesting exercise in "discovering what your friends really think about you." I experienced a similar phenomenon at my father's retirement party, when "Baby Got Back" came on and multiple members of my family yelled, "This is Lisa's song!"

Thankfully, none of the names suggested by my friends had an impact on my already distorted self-image but most hinted on me being extremely sarcastic and I started to wonder if that really defines me....

I dug deep into my soul, as well as deep into a bag of Cape Cod potato chips, to try to find the answer.

The answer is yes.

I'm not sure I will really have anything interesting to say on this thing but I hope to, at the very least, make you laugh..or maybe just snicker...or maybe want to go get a Snickers? I'm never one to underestimate the power of words.....