Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Ode to my Fat Pants

Fat Pants, oh Fat Pants, the time for honesty is upon us.

I have looked deep within my heart and what I have found there is not pretty.

It is, dare I say, a hotbed of deceit. A labyrinth of lies. Couched among good intentions untruths remain.

I must set free my spirit and find the path to honesty and enlightenment.

I used you.

I never wanted you.

I do not need you today.

I may never need you again.

And yet in spite of my complete distaste and disregard for your presence, I am uunable to release you from my hold.

I will not allow you your independence.

There may come a time, though I pray the day shall never dawn, that I will use you once again. I will manipulate your very fibers to my being. I will envelope myself in your presence.

And I will despise you for it.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Don't ask me about my business

I was recently invited to a Red Sox game by a friend of mine, MH. I met MH at Sharon & TK's annual dinner party last year. He's a fun guy, we occasionally grab dinner together and we've become pretty good friends. I received the text at 10:00 a.m. "wanna go to the Red Sox game tonight?". I answered at 10:01 "YES".

Imagine my surprise when we walked to our seats and we were in the front row above the visitors dugout! These were some sweet seats my friends. I know you're jealous. I could reach across and touch one of the players.

As I was saying, the seats were great. Kids would come down and stand in the aisle and yell to the players to throw them a ball. The visiting team were kind of jerks and these kids had to really work it. So of course, we were all yelling to the players to give the kid a ball...only three kids got balls. Eventually they stopped coming down to try to get one.

The guy sitting to the left of me across the aisle was dressed in dress slacks and a pink dress shirt. I think he was a mob boss. After the last kid got a ball, he leaned over to me and began to tell me this story about how a couple of weeks ago the visiting team were throwing balls up to the kids left and right. Imagine a heavy Italian Jersey accent:

Mob Dude: There was this one kid, kept taking all the balls. This kid had eleven balls, can you believe it?"

Me: Wow really?

Mob Dude: Yeah, freaking kid was hogging all the balls - so we started catching them and rolling them down the dugout to the other kids

Me: That was nice of you

Mob Dude: So this kid, he goes back to his seat and his father comes down and says which one of yous is taking the balls away from my son?

Me: "He did?"

Mob Dude: Yeah, so stood up and I says to him unless you want t
o be carried out of here in a body bag, get your F*&^ing A&^ back to your seat. If you come down here again I'll F*&^ing kill you!

Me: Oh my

So now I'm a little scared of this dude. I avoid making eye contact with him for the next few innings. I mention to MH that I wish I could have gotte
n a ball ... Mr. Mob Dude hears me and says "You want a ball? I'll get you a ball" I'm all "Oh no, it's okay really" Then he yells down to one of the players "Hey" The dude looks up and the two make eye contact. Then my new mob connection says "Give the girl a ball" and kinda shrugs his head towards me. The player goes into the dug out and I said "Ohh it's really okay thanks for trying" but before I knew it, the player comes back and throws me up a ball. I think my ball was better than if a player hit it because this ball was used for field it had a little piece of Fenway all over it.MH (always the sales guy) is passing out his business cards to people in the surrounding seats. When he saw that this guy got me a ball he told me to ask where the guy worked. I'm like dude, I am NOT asking him about his business, and you shouldn't either...he may put out a hit on us. Let's say he's in waste management and leave it at that.

So, I woke up that morning with no clue that I would be going to the Red Sox game, have amazing seats, meet a mob dude and some how get a baseball from the game. All in all, it was a pretty cool day!

I so am a VIP

Dear Marriott,

Nice try. I thought you had forgotten about me. And to be honest I had totally given up on you. On us.

After years of being together I wanted nothing more than to be a Gold level VIP. With you. I wanted to be your special somebody.

But I can see how it really was between us now. The truth is this - to you I was just another guest.

You weren't as invested in "us" as I was. No upgrades to rooms. No upgrades in status. Not even a free bottle of water. Once a nobody, always a nobody, huh?

So now you're back. From outer space. I just walked in to find you here with that look upon your face...

And now you offer me Gold. Now. After I refused to see you for the past eight months now I'm a Gold VIP.

Well Marriott here's the thing... It's kinda too late.


No, no, no, a thousand times no. I am not going away with you. I can't stay with you anymore. It wouldn't be right.

You see... I'm a Hilton girl now.

Sure, we spent a lot of time together last year. A la-ha-ot of time. Like 50 nights if I recall. But listen, when we talked and you made those promises I thought you meant them. I really thought you were sincere. Remember when you said hey baby, stay with me and I'll really take you places? Just 50 nights and you'll be a Gold VIP bay-bee. Remember that Marriott? Yeah, me too.

How could I have predicted that you would put "conditions" on our relationship? I read and re-read your letters and emails, all those tempting promises you made to me. What the heck are qualifying nights anyway? And where did you mention that our time together had to be "qualifying"? Nowhere, that's where.

How could you break your promises? Not to mention my heart. We had such a good time in St. Thomas. Wasn't that fun??? You were so cosmopolitan at the top of Nob Hill in San Francisco. And then so laid back and chill in Ft Lauderdale. Both times! And in Boston, ah remember Boston? So many places together, so many memories... The truth is even when we were just along the highway in some not-so-memorable town in NJ we were good together. So good.

Was I wrong to think we were going to be together forever? Yes, yes I was.

Because when we spent our last night together in December you said you needed me. You said one more night, just one more night and I'd be a VIP. So when you wouldn't upgrade my status I was, well - I was shocked. Yeah, shock came first. And then hurt.

was so hurt. And then angry. Because I did my part. It wasn't just about the money either but seriously, I dropped some serious coin on you.

So now that I'm in the acceptance stage here you come again. After I hear nothing from you in months. Since oh, 2008 actually, but who's counting?

Is it just that you can't stand to see me happy? I mean your timing is sorta off. Sorta crazy out of left field off.
Then again, how predictable of you. Now that I am involved with a new hotel oh, look who wants me back. Guess you don't really know what you got until it's gone, huh Marriott?

After all this time you finally offer me what I've been longing for and what? You think I'm just going to walk away from the past eight months Hilton and I have spent together? I'm supposed to pretend there's not something special growing between us?

Because you know what? Hilton's promised me Gold. And in six more stays I'm getting it. Hilton's ready to take our relationship to the next level. And I can't wait.

Hilton gets me. And Hilton is taking me places that you could only dream about.

All I have to say is this - You had your chance Marriott, you had your chance.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Seriously Nissan, what were you thinking?

Normally I'm a fan of Nissan cars. The Ultima, the Maxima and even their SUV's are all very well designed vehicles. I never had a beef with Nissan. That is, until last Friday. While driving on the highway I saw a Nissan Cube. I'd love to meet the genius that came up with this bright idea. I did a little research and this box sells for $17,500. No, I'm not kidding.

I think a bunch of people were drunk when they designed it. Or maybe stoned? Here is how I think the whole thing went down.

I imagine they were all sitting at one guy's house around a bonfire drinking beer and one of them says "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if we made a car that looks just like a box?" Another guy who just took a hit of weed laughs and says "Duuuuuuuude, we can make a square car with round windows!". The other drunks around the fire chime in and someone starts drawing out the design in the dirt with a stick and before you know it, the Cube is born.

They bring their design to the top honcho - who just that very morning found out that his wife was having an affair and moving to Brazil with their pool boy Paco. In the midst of his mental breakdown, he approves the design and production on the Cube begins.

I think the car I saw is the only Cube that was ever sold. It probably belongs to the guy who came up with the design. That's his punishment, he has to drive around in this metal box for the rest of his life.

The moral of the story here? Drugs: Just say no.

Thursday, September 24, 2009


Instant messaging has become a part of our everyday lives. We use it to talk to our kids. We use it to talk to our spouses. We use it socially. We use it professionally.

And sure, it can be annoying when that little bling sounds and a message pops up. Especially when you're in the middle of a project and a friend sends you a "Hey! Sup?" message.

Luckily there's this well-known but not-used-enough feature called the Away Message. Though I'm not entirely sure why people keep IM on and use an away messages instead of shutting the program down completely but... I have to admit I do it, too.

There's a standard away message that comes with the program - "I am currently away from my computer." There are other, equally boring variations of the same theme - "I am away from my computer but will receive your message when I return."

You can be right in the middle of an IM conversation and all of a sudden - bling! - you get an away message. I'm not sure if there's protocol for the away message but no one's complaining. At least not to me.

So how cool would it be if we could use these away messages for every other aspect of our lives?

Your fringe friend calls and is talking your ear off about her kid's cat and their second trip to the vet this week. She's just about to describe how they took Fluffy's temperature and bling! She gets an automated earful - "I'm away. Far far away. But hang tight, I may be back soon!"

Or your aunt is over for dinner and as usual, launts into a detailed description of your incredibly thin, successful, well married and perfect cousin. When out of nowhere she hears bling! "Love to hear more. But I have a root canal to get to!"

Your mom's bunions. Your neighbor's colonoscopy. Your child's fifth request for McDonalds in a half hour. Bling! Bling! Bling!

Here are a few away messages I have come across - I wish I could use a few of these in real life!

I'm tied up. And not in a good way.

I am currently at my computer but have no desire to speak with you. Now go away.

If you are Tammy - it's over. Stop im'ing me.

I'm taking advantage of indoor plumbing, be right back.

The Sharon show will return after these messages. Stay tuned!

Sharon's computer is broken right now and you have reached her fridge. Your message will be stuck to me with a magnet until she's back.

I'm not talented enough to type and pick my nose at the same time. Be right back!

Away. What is away? Are we ever really away? Are we ever really present? Do we even actually exist?

What away messages would you use in real life, if you could?

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Celebrating Friends

Saturday was the official date that Sharon and I celebrated our Friendiversary. For a couple of weeks we had been going back and forth on what we should do to celebrate the awesomeness that is our friendship. We thought about going out to dinner, or maybe going to a movie...but it just didn't feel like those ideas were enough, we do that stuff all the time. One thing we both really wanted to do was to see Water Fire in Providence, RI. It just so happened that the fires were scheduled to be lit on our special day - so to us it was a sign. We must go.

We decided that it looked like kind of a "romantic-ish" thing to do, and maybe we should invite TK too. After all, I'm used to our little threesome so I was totally cool with it being just the three of us. Then we decided to invite a couple of other friends and make it a real party! So we invited MacGyver and Blue Eyes (this guy has the nicest blue eyes I've ever seen) See, Sharon and I are givers - we don't mind sharing our day with our inner circle. That's just how we roll.

Sharon told me that she
and TK would drive and they would pick me up around 6:30. I told her to text me when she was close. When the text came in "be there in a sec", I went outside to wait for them. I was outside for about 3 minutes before I saw a limousine pull up. I'm thinking, NOOOOO she didn't! Then the limo stopped in front of me and out pops Sharon shouting "SURPRISE!!!" How cool is she? Seriously?

In the Limo, we had champagne (compliments of Blue Eyes), strawberries, crackers and cheese. We exchanged gifts (chicks never forget anniversary OR friendiversary gifts). I hand her what every girl loves to see... that little blue box that says Tiffany & Company. But I warned her, the box is the only thing from Tiffany's... sorry sister. I didn't like the box her gift came in, so I used an old box that I had. So..
. what did I get her? I know you're all dying to know. I have to admit, it was the perfect gift for my BFF the writer. I got her a necklace that had her initials - SB, but the initials were actually antique typewriter keys. She gave me a digital picture frame that had preloaded photos of the two of us. She rocks.

We had dinner reservations and when we arrived at the restaurant Sharon had another surprise for us. Friends from CT drove in to hang with us. That girl is just full of surprises!

Water Fire was amazing, I've never seen anything like it. Fire bowls were lit up and down the canal while music was piped in through speakers. The music was kind of Erie but soothing. The wood burning smelled like a campfire, coupled with the music, it created the perfect ambiance. It was actually a very romantic spot...couples were sitting on the banks of the canal with blankets and wine. Gondolas (complete with the dude in the stripped shirt) paddled up and down the canal as their occupants sipped champagne. People were every where, just enjoying the view. Normally I hate crowds, but it was amazing how mellow everyone was.

We were looking for a place to have a drink, and we pretty much crashed a wedding (by accident). We left when we realized it was a reception, I suggested we just pull up a table and have a drink...but the rest of the group just wasn't feeling it. Hey, it's their own fault for having an outdoor reception in the midst of a VERY crowded tourist spot. They have only themselves to blame. Really. When we finally settled on a spot, Sharon mentioned that it would be very cool if they could have their own Water Fire in their pool for her fall annual dinner. She of course was looking at MacGyver when she said this. He never ever backs down from a challenge (of course she knows this, she is quite cunning). We have all the confidence in the world that MacGyver will make it happen.

As we walked down the canal we noticed two old women who brought lounge chairs and were enjoying the view with snacks and wine. I thought, yeah that will be us in another 20 years. Perhaps they were celebrating their Friendiversary too.

It was the first official celebration of our friendship and it was as it should be. Unforgettable.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

What am I????

I AM the all powerful.

I can be sexy.

I can be flirty.

I can be colorful.

I can be rigid.

I can be firm.

I can be unyielding.

Sometimes I can be all of the above. All at the same time.

I can pinch.

I can bite.

I can make you so uncomfortable you squirm in your seat.

I can be soft.

And so smooth you almost wouldn't know I was there.

I can be closer to you than anyone has ever been.

Or I can be the furthest thing from your mind.

I can be a strong supporter.

Or I can be a flimsy excuse and an embarassment to my name.

I can be ratty and raggy and drab.

I can be the first thing you think of.

Or the last.

We can be old friends.

Or new acquaintances.

I can lift you up.

Or I can let you down when least expected.

I can make your day.

Or not.

What am I???

Post your answers in the comments section and I'll tell you at the end of the day. (Subscribe to comments to receive an email update).

Monday, September 21, 2009

Random Thoughts

I had a great blog planned for today, but I wandered into a mini disaster at work and just don't have the time to write the blog I wanted to here is a funny site someone sent me, enjoy.

Happy Monday

Friday, September 18, 2009

1 + 1 = What?

"You two are great together! So fun!"

"Oh, we're not together."

He blinked. Twice.

"I mean, we're not, you know. A couple."

One eyebrow went up, arching ever so slightly. "Excuse me?"

"I know it seems like it. We get that all the time. But we're not."

"You're not what?"

Uh oh. Here it comes.

Noooo Doreen!!! Don't say it, please don't say it.

She said it.

"You know, we're not gay or anything."

Everywhere we go together someone assumes something. Seriously. I have nothing against being gay. I just don't happen to be. Gay that is. And for the record, neither is Doreen.

Granted we do a lot of "couple-y" things together. We throw parties together. We shop for hot tubs together. We go to church together. And when we're together it's obvious - we like being together.

But does that automatically mean we are together as in "together". No it does not. Clearly.

When I am out with my other Soulsta everyone assumes we are sisters. We look a little bit alike (we both use bottle blonde #4 on our hair). We're both very touchy people and are affectionate with each other. We never stop talking.

However she has a very strong Boston accent and I do not. Not even a hint of a Boston accent. She doesn't tan. I do. My eyes are brown, hers are not.

If you looked just a little bit deeper you'd see we really don't look alike. So therefore you shouldn't assume we are sisters. You might even assume we are gay. But never, never are we asked if we are a couple. Ever.

Granted Doreen is olive skinned and exotic looking. I am not. But why does that not make us sisters? Can't sisters not look alike?

I've seen Doreen's sisters and they don't look alike. Does everyone assume they're all from one big gay commune when they're together? No they do not.

Several years ago, when TK and I were dating we used to go to lunch at this local restaurant a couple of times a week. We would meet there and sit at the bar and usually had the same waitress/bartender. At this point we were dating maybe a year or so.

We are also very affectionate, in a hold-hands-touchy way not in a make-out-at-the-table way.

Did the waitress assume we were a couple? No. She actually asked if we were cousins. Cousins!!!

I asked her why she didn't assume we were dating, or married even. Her response, and I'm not making this up:

"You get along too well to be married to each other."


TK and I were at a concert over the summer and an attractive, older, gray haired man walked by with his arm wrapped around a much, much younger, attractive young woman. TK watches for a moment. Then -

"That's gross. He's way too old for her. He should be ashamed of himself. She's probably after his money anyway."

I watched for a moment too. And then realized they weren't a couple. That was his daughter he was being so affectionate with. We debated it for a few minutes as we stalked followed happened to walk behind them. What do you know? He was her dad!

How is it people make assumptions so quickly, and judge other people's relationships on such limited information?

Two women who get along fantastically well must either be a) lesbians or b) sisters. A man and a woman who get along well must be either a) cousins or b) gross old men preying on the young.

The next time someone asks if Doreen and I are a couple I'm going to tell them we are.

Or that we used to be.

Until one of us had the surgery.

Then I'm going to ask them to guess which one of us it was.

That'll keep them guessing for a while.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

If I were only 17 again

Last night we had a girls night. Me, Sharon and Ziggy. We had been planning it for a couple of weeks, I made Ziggy promise she would put her computer away, set down the cell phone and spend a text free, IM free night with me and her mom. I told her that we were going to watch a Jane Austin classic and surprisingly she agreed.

Note: A few weeks ago Sharon and I watched Pride & Prejudiced while Ziggy sat in the corner on her computer (but I think secretly she was watching). At the end, when Mr. Darcy *sigh* declared his love for Elizabeth, Sharon and I cried...and I could have sworn I heard sniffles from the corner of the room...I'm just sayin'.

The truth is, we got the movie "17 Again" for Ziggy. When it started, she heaved a sigh of relief. No British flick where people say things like "Would you care to take a turn about the room?". I had never seen the movie, Sharon and Zig saw it at the movie theater. All I can say is this. I know it's wrong, I know I'm old enough to be his mother....but that Zac Efron ... holy hottness!

First of all, that boy can dance. Second, those abs!! Sharon pointed this out to me in hopes to help me not feel so wrong about having a crush on him - the reason we are so attracted to him in this movie is because he is in fact acting like an adult would. I wish I could buy that, but the truth is - I just think he's hot. Super-hot. But he's 21 years younger than I am - and other than the physical attraction, what would we really have Zac? Sure that's fine for a while, but I need more than that. So I'm sorry Zac, it would never work between us.

Now, being who I am - and never missing an opportunity to tease Ziggy I couldn't help myself.

Me: "Ohhhhh he is so cuuuuuuuuuuuute, I love him!!"

Ziggy: "Ewwwwwwwww that's gross, he could be your son!"

Me: "What? Age is just a number, we'd have a special bond me and Zac. I just know it"

Ziggy: "Nooooo stop saying that"

Me: "You're just upset because YOU like him, but he's mine!!!!"

Ziggy: "Stooooooop!!!"

She's so fun... it was a great night. I spent it with my two favorite chicks. Oh, and I got to watch Zac Efron dance.

If I were only 17 again....

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

And speaking of Tom Brady...

As wrapped up as I am in my own life (don't ask. I'm trying not to cuss but it's soooo hard this week), I decided to take a walk down memory lane and repost an oldie but goodie.

And since Doreen is still giddy in her renewed love for #12 what better time to repost one of our first posts on Reality Covered in Chocolate...

Is Tom Brady Pitching?

Sharon and I have been friends for about 8 years now. Our betting tradition began about 7 years ago when we were out at a a bar with a few girls. It started out very innocently, a good joke gone bad kinda thing. She never thought I'd actually take the bet.

Ten bucks if I would go up to this hot guy that we noticed across the bar and ask him to spin around so my friends could see if the back looked as good as the front. This was my challenge.Fueled by liquid courage (quite a bit of alcohol) I headed straight for Eye-Candy-Man.

I did modify the "so my friends could see" to "my friend, the blonde over there could see"... after all, I wasn't going to jump on board the humiliation train alone. So he laughs, does his spin...the girls clapped, I thank him, and head back to the group.

Of course Eye-Candy-Man came over shortly after, but unfortunately his looks were really all he had going for him. We escaped about 10 minutes later after Sharon gave him a fake phone number. Don't judge, he was creepy and she didn't want to be mean. Giving a guy a wrong phone number saves him the shame of rejection in front of her friends or his. See how selfless we are?

So that's where it all started, in a bar in Portsmouth. Since then, we've set some rules...nothing illegal, nothing that hurts or humiliates another person (the goal is to humiliate ourselves for the other person's amusement), and we can't tell anyone at the time that "my friend bet me that I wouldn't do this".

While at a concert at the House of Blues, Sharon's bet was to walk up to a random couple and stand right in the middle of them, snap a photo of the three of them, then walk away. I was sure that she wasn't going to do it ... but on the way out, she came through. We of course found this hysterical. Tom and Warren thought we were retards.

This now brings us to the title of this post.

I knew it was my turn next, and I knew after the "random-couple-photo op", she would show no mercy and it wasn't going to be pretty.

I was right.

On Saturday afternoon Sharon and I went to the Red Sox game. While we were walking to our seats, she laid it on me. I had to turn to the person sitting next to me and ask if Tom Brady was pitching.

It was a good one, I'll give her that. Bitch. :)

So we take our seats, I was hoping that the person next to me was going to be a girl - maybe a "pink hat" (how men refer to women who really know nothing about sports, well actually they give that status to all women until proven otherwise). No such luck, it was a guy. A cute guy. A Vascular Surgeon guy. So I bided my time, waiting for the right opportunity and made idle chit chat (this is how I found out he was a surgeon).

We talked about the Sox. We talked about why Youkilis wasn't playing, and he was clearly impressed by my knowledge of the game...I was cleared of the pink hat status. Around the 5th inning I went in for the kill and asked

"Is Tom Brady pitching?"

There it was, the look. The "how embarrassing for you to ask such a stupid question" look. He just shook his head and smiled at me. Then he said in a tone that you talk to a 4 year old with "Tom Brady is the quarterback for the Patriots".

I tried to recover by saying "Oh, I know but I thought Tampa Bay had a pitcher named Tom Brady". There was no recovering, he just shook his head and laughed. He then turned to his girlfriend, or mistress, or whoever she was and told her what I just said.

Side note: during the game, this chick couldn't keep her hands off this guy and at one point she was giving him an ear massage. Now I have to ask, have any of you ever given or received an ear massage? Oh wait, let me ear massage at a sporting event? Seriously?To my right, Sharon was laughing so hard I thought she was going to cry.

With my pink hat status now confirmed by Mr. Vascular Surgeon I figured I'd just go with it, so when Tampa Bay changed pitchers I leaned over to him and said "Oh look, it's Tom Brady". Apparently only Sharon and I found this hilarious, he of course thought I was serious and said "No, that's not Tom Brady".

It's okay Mr. Vascular Surgeon guy, just enjoy the ear massage...we amuse ourselves and that's really all that matters.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Welcome back #12

Dear Tom Brady,

Last night was quite a night. I had not seen you in so long (53 weeks to be exact, but who's counting?). I've missed you. I have to admit, I was not crazy about what you were does nothing for you. It just seemed wrong not seeing you in blue. Blue is definitely your color, it brings out your eyes. I'm just sayin'.

I was worried about you at first, you just didn't seem like yourself. Short passes, incompletions and interceptions were so unlike the old Tom. Where was that guy who drove the ball down field with no mercy? The man who barely ever missed his mark? I blame it on the red uniforms.

But then, something wonderful happened. You found your mojo again. The football gods were on our side when Buffalo fumbled the ball...that dude should never have gone for it. I'd hate to be him today.

And then, just like that, there he was...the Tom Brady I've grown to love. With less than 2 minutes on the clock, you marched your team down the field like the good old days. That pass to Watson in the end-zone to take the lead was a thing of beauty. It brought a tear to my eye.

So, welcome back Tom - but in the about a little less drama? I'm just not sure I can handle another emotional roller coaster ride like last night!

Monday, September 14, 2009

Pie oh my!

It's pie season!!! Yay!!!

I know my way around the kitchen fairly well. I have all the appropriate devices, pots, pans and utensils and for the most part I know how to use them. (Yes, I do know how to use the mandolin. Just because I took an eighth of my pinky off with it doesn't mean I don't know how to use it).

And while I'm not a gourmet cook I definitely am not ashamed of my culinary skills.

But cooking is one thing. Baking however, well, that's quite another. Doreen, she's a baker. Not only do her cakes taste good, they look good.

Except for the one she made for Tom's birthday. It tasted awesome - see all that delicious raspberry filling oozing out of the center? Yum! I call it Edu-cake. Because we learned a valuable lesson here. We can't all be pretty on the outside but it really is what's on the inside that counts.

Anyway years ago I became the apple pie lady to my friends and family. One recipe mastered and I'm the expert for life. It's true. My apple pie is a thing of beauty. It really is. I wish I could be humble but I just can't.

My apple pie rocks.

But I'm not that kind of girl. I don't share my pie with everyone. It's special. Want some? I bet you do. But you need to be special, too.

My sister knows I bake the most incredible pie. My sister doesn't bake. So when she wants pie, what do you think she does? Yeah, you know it. She comes a-knockin'.

I baked her a pie last year. A delicious, sweet, flaky-crusted pocket of sweet heaven. And because I am who I am, I don't bake pies in tin foil toss-aways. No sirree. I baked her pie in a nice solid glass Pyrex pie plate. Not only is it better for the environment but also it doesn't cut her tongue when she licks the bottom of it.

So I'm a great apple pie baker. And I'm thoughtful.
Last week I mention to Spendy that I'm going apple picking. Later that day I get a text:

"I'm placing my order for apple pie now. Please let me know when I can pick it up. THANKS"

Seriously??? Somewhere in the depths of Spendy's house there's a sad little Pyrex pie plate calling for it's mama.

I gently remind her of this with sisterly affection. "You lying thieving sister who steals plates is asking me for what? No pie for you."

A day goes by. Maybe two. I get another text from Spendy. "Pie plate in trunk. Where can we make the exchange?"

It may just be me but I'm sensing desperation. Emotion doesn't come across a text message very well but I can feel it just the same.

I've been through this before. Spendy wants what she wants and she's not above lying to get it. I channel my inner Pyrex. I imagine if I were my pie plate, where would I be? I sense darkness. And dust bunnies.
In a non-judgemental, loving way I share my concern. "Gimme back my plate! I want my freakin' plate back! You broke it, I bet you broke it! No pie until I see the plate! Must. See. Plate."

Sometime during the night this text appears: "Pie plate is in my possession. Name the location. No need to involve police. Or Mrs. Smith."

I don't have to tell you that my sister and I are not just sisters. We're friends, too. I remind her of this in my next text. "LIAR!!"

Sometimes one word is enough.

Her next text suggests a sense of urgency. She knows I have apples. She knows how delicately flaky my pie crust is. Spendy's on the run.

Bling, bling. Two photos arrive on my cell phone.

Followed by "Plate unharmed and secure. Blindfolded for it's own protection."

Hmmm. Looks like there's a pie in her future after all.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Contest Winner!!!!

So it's no surprise... Doreen won!!!

And no, it wasn't fixed actually. It just so happens she wrote a rockin' response to the Contest last week and it was so good that my writer friends were too chicken to even attempt an entry.

What's that about???

So the suspense is going to have to wait just a little bit longer for you all. I'm not quite ready to write about it. Yeah, yeah I know. It will be worth the wait, I promise.

But I do have another blog for you in a little bit. Patience.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

To the Bat Cave...

I've been seeing this guy for about 6 weeks now. When we first started dating, I told Sharon his name, she said "Oh, like Batman?"...and the name stuck. Now, we refer to him as Batman. That's his name on my phone, and our other friends have caught on as well, I don't even think they know his real name. Every once in a while I'll get "So how's Batman?". When my phone rings, "Oh, was that Batman?" "Are you seeing Batman tonight?" No I'm not, not tonight. He's busy fighting crime this evening. That pesky Riddler is up to his old shenanigans again.

When I told Batman about his appointed name, I could tell he didn't really know what to think. I told him he should be honored that Sharon and I have bestowed upon him such a cool nickname. I still think he thinks I'm a nut. I'm okay with that, it's part of my charm. He rolls with it though, when he invites me over - he asks if I want to come over to the bat cave and watch a movie. On several occasions he's said things like "Of course I can do that, I'm Batman" or "That's how I roll, I'm Batman".

I think I've created a monster, and I'm just waiting for the day when he shows up wearing a cape and a mask. I can't decide if it would be funny or creepy. I would however be okay with him rolling up in a Bat-Mobile type of car... perhaps a black BMW Z4, it is kind of Bat-mobile-esque. Yeah, that would be cool.

One of my FB friends commented that it was a better nickname than some of her boyfriends have ever received, and so it started me thinking of nicknames we give our kids, friends, boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, girlfriends, etc.

Sometimes I call my son "boy", I refer to him as "the boy". It is a term of endearment and he smiles every time I say something like "boy, did you get your homework done?". Sharon refers to her as Ziggy on here, but she calls her daughter Doll or Dolly, which is so cute...I think it stemmed from when she was very young...she looked just like a little doll.

I have a friend that I've known for 14 years now. I call him Pookie, he calls me Yoda. No, not because I'm 3 feet tall, green and is because I am wise and all knowing.. so step off people. For the record, he's the only one who can get away with calling me that (except for Sharon, but she already has a nickname for me - it is Soulstah), so don't any of you get any ideas. Anyway, Pookie is the king of nicknames. In the course of 14 years, he's dated many, many women...all have nicknames, yes every single one. He never refers to them by their first name. I sometimes have a hard time keeping track when he refers to a girl he dated like 8 years ago by her nickname. Recently we were discussing people who were not too bright. So part of our conversation went something like this:

"Remember Rock?"

"Umm, who?"

"Rock, the chick who was kind of a stalker?"

"Oh yeah, what about her?"

"She dated a guy who was kind of like that"

Off the top of my head I've remembered quite a few of the nicknames so I thought I'd share them, I'm sure these girls won't mind since they have no clue that he does this or what their nicknames were, and it is probably best that they don't know what they mean. Here are a few:

  • PS
  • PU
  • Minnie
  • Fake rack
  • Man-hands
  • Reavis
  • Changstein
  • Rock
  • Butter
  • Cans
  • Jori
People at work call me Dori, this comes from the movie Finding Nemo. Yes, I'm forgetful sometimes. One of the sales guys went crazy one year, he sent me plush Dori fishes and several Dori T-shirts (his wife worked for Disney). One of the girls in my office brought me back a little snow globe from Key West with a Dori fish in it. It's not a bad nickname, I don't love it - but it's better than Yoda.

What are some of the nicknames of the people in your life?

Contest!!! Contest!!! Contest!!!!

Today's posting is a contest for all you creative types out there...

C'mon my writer friends and you wannabes, it's your time to shine!

Write a brief story about the picture below in the comments section.

The best story wins a Starbucks gift card.

Or better yet, a Dunkin' Donuts gift card.

I'll leave the contest open until Sunday night.

On Monday I'll tell the real story behind the drawing and announce the winner.

And by the way, if you know the real story and retell it you won't win.

We call that plagiarizing!

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

MacGyver or Jedi?

Do you remember the TV show MacGyver? MacGyver's main asset is his practical application of scientific knowledge and inventive use of common items—along with his ever-present army Swiss knife. The clever solutions MacGyver implemented to seemingly intractable problems—often in life-or-death situations requiring him to improvise complex devices in a matter of minutes.

I know MacGyver, OK not really but I know a MacGyver-ish guy. TK's BFF (whom we all refer to as MacGyver) is one of those guys who can do anything from build an outdoor shower out of bamboo (including all plumbing), erect a sturdy fence from Styrofoam and run the electrical and hang a chandelier with a toothpick and a paper clip. Regardless of the task at hand, he's the guy who gets the job done. Sharon always says, if she were stuck on a desert island and could have anyone with h
er - it would be him. I'd have to agree with her. The reason? He's the dude that's gonna get you off the island with a coconut and some seaweed.

So I've known MacGyver for a couple of years and I've never heard him say "No, I can't do that". However, I've recently discovered something new about our crafty friend. MaGyver is also part Jedi. When he says something is so, TK never questions him. TK will suggest something, MacGyver will tell him the complete opposite and without quest
ion, without argument TK will believe him. It's like he waves his hand and says "No, we don't need to anchor the boat it will be fine"...and TK says, "hey, we don't need to anchor the boat".

If you know TK, you know that he's not easily swayed in his convictions.
He loves to debate and you have to present a really good case for him to back down. So, it only stands to reason that MacGyver is part Jedi. I guess that would also be helpful on the island, he'd wave his hand and tell the cannibals "you don't want us for dinner, move along".

The only thing I can't figure out, is where he hides his Jedi robe and light sabre. He'll deny it, but I'm on to you MacGyver. I am immune to your Jedi mind tricks.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Dear Shaun Cassidy

Dear Shaun Cassidy,

You know I loved you, right? When you sang "Da Doo Ron Ron" I could just about faint with love for you. It was as if you were predicting the future. Our future. "I met her on a Monday and my heart stood still... Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron".

I always looked my prettiest on Mondays. Just for you.

At first I have to admit, I wasn't entirely pleased about that Jill chick in the song but I figured it out. First, nothing really rhymes with Sharon. I get that. Plus you didn't want anyone to know about us. About me and you. Shaun and Sharon. 2-Getha 4-Eva. Clever boy, you were protecting my identity. You always were so thoughtful. I loved you for that, too.

Even though I was nine and you were twenty-one, I just knew someday we'd be together. We had love on our side. You'd wait for me. I could feel it whenever you looked into my eyes, your crooked smile lighting up your entire face. The way your nose crinkled up just the teensiest bit. You were always smiling at me, weren't you Shaun?

And yes, maybe we never actually met and you were just a life size poster that I talked to day after day, but... But you listened. You were always a good listener. As I told you about the evil teacher who forced me write in cursive and the boy who made fun of me when I tried to join Boy Scouts, you were there for me. You knew it looked way more fun than Girl Scouts. You understood me. I mean who would want to sew a scarf when you can race soapbox cars? Ah, we shared so much, you and I.

I wrote you a song, did you know that? "He picked me up at eight, I put on my roller skates 'cause we're going to a roller-rock party!" I wrote it about you. And roller skating. It was about our future. Together.

I even practiced signing my name for you. In cursive.

And we'd have twin daughters that looked just like you. We'd all wear matching outfits and I'd embroider a big "S" on everyone's pockets even though I hated sewing. Yup, Shaun, Sharon, Shannah and Shauna Cassidy. Had a nice ring to it, didn't it?

Yes, I do believe in magic, Shaun. Well, I did anyway, back then.

But as a good friend pointed out to me yesterday, I'm going to be forty soon. Forty, Shaun. Seriously, I'm getting just a little tired of waiting for you.

Plus I've moved on. I'm married now. Happily, too. And know what? My husband rocks. How do you like them apples, Shaun?

I may be almost forty but guess what - you're fifty-two. So there.

And if you called me right now, I wouldn't even talk to you. Well, not for long. No more than a half hour. An hour, tops.

But don't even think I'd be your friend now after all this time, because we both know there's no going back. Unless you friended me on Facebook. I'd probably do that, just so you can see what you're missing.

nd since pictures don't do me justice I may have to invite you to a party or two but only so you can see what you can't have. Because I am taken now.

You snooze you lose, buddy.

So two parties at the most. But that's it, Shaun, since we both know you'd never be "inner circle". Unless Doreen says you can be. Which she probably won't.

o um, anyway Shaun, I just wanted to let you know I am over you. Way, way, way ohhh-vvver you. Yup. I am. Seriously. For the most part.

our biggest fan previous soulmate,


PS - call me?

Friday, September 4, 2009

Breaking up is hard to do...

We were together for almost 9 years, and even though ours was a long distance relationship (he lives in Wisconsin) we were very close. We spoke every day, emailed continuously, traveled together often and when he was in town we were inseparable. We'd spend all day together and he would always take me out some place nice for dinner. We had a mutual respect for each other. We genuinely liked each other's company. He is one of the funniest people I've ever known...oh how we laughed. Good times.

My boss and I have broken up. Our company has acquired another company and my boss was asked to head up this new sales division. I am truly happy for him, this is going to be an exciting opportunity. However, now I report to the President of our company. When I got the news, my first thought was "I'm in hell". When the announcement was made throughout the company of the acquisition, of CT's new role and who I now reported to, I'd see the sympathetic looks in my co-workers eyes as we passed in the hallway.

My boss (the one who left me) had a completely different management style from the President. He was the buffer...but now the buffer is gone and I have to deal directly with the main boss-man himself. Kinda scary. But I've accepted my fate, and the new challenge ahead of me.

He was by far the best boss I've ever had. I sincerely wish him the best (with most break ups I secretly hope they get fat and ugly and their next girlfriend boils their rabbit). Don't judge me.

So onward I go to the new chapter in my life, one without CT...I'll miss you dude.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Stop! Your Mutton Chops are Tickling Me!

Shave your face. Or don't. Either one... but would you just flipping pick one already???

I have a pretty good memory but for the life of me I can't remember when it became cool to half shave your face. Sort of. Or shave parts of it but not others. Or to shave your mother's name onto your left cheek.

Let me think... I do remember the fu man chu making a comeback. There was this one guy in high school who had one - ONE GUY. And he was the sexy quarterback so it was ok. And cool. And no one even dared to imitate him because he was the quarterback. Oh, and he was sexy. Ok so that was high school and 20 years ago. But a trend this does not start.

In my early 20s there was this other guy, a bartender at a local club. He had a beard and a moustache. Not one or the other but both. And it was trimmed, and neat and well, to be honest, also kinda sexy. It was different and I liked that. Or maybe he was kinda sexy because of the way he danced to "Paradise by the Dashboard Light".

Sometime in my 30s the goatee made a come back. A way-too-big come back. Every single guy you met had one. Yes, every single guy and I'm not even kidding. My brother. My brother-in-law. The guys I dated. The guys I worked with. My mailman, my trashman and I may be wrong but I'm pretty sure I saw Santa Claus sporting a donut ring around his pie hole, too.

I was a sales rep at the time, seeing customers all day, every day - 4 or 5 different companies a day on average. The male clients blurred together. From the controller to the CEO to the guy on the dock. I mean seriously, a guy with dark hair and a big hairy 0 around his mouth, well, they all start to look the same after a while, you know? No offense guys, but could you tell the women apart in the Robert Palmer video? Me neither. So yeah, it was like that for me too. Only worse, because you actually thought you were different. By all looking the same. Huh.

Ok so a few years ago someone got my memo on that because look what you're doing now. Shaved pencil lines down your jawline. Sideburns that are shaped into arrows. Soul patches. Anchors. Chin Curtains. Norris Skippers. Mutton chops.

Note to men: Also not working for me!!!! Do not make designs on your face with hair. There's nothing appealing about this. NO Thing. Trust me. (Except for you guys that I'm friends with that currently host specks and lines of muzzly hair on your face. No really, it works for you.)

A beard? Yes. Clean shaved? Definitely. But prison bars made of hair running vertically over your face? Ummm, seriously????

Thanks to Tracey C for guessing Monday's French tongue twister and choosing today's topic! How'd I do?

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

All the French You Need to Know...

I just returned from a delightful mother / daughter evening at the movies with none other than my lovely, loving, darling girl Ziggy.

Ziggy, of course, was forced into going happy to go with me and to spend quality time together. She sure does love hanging out together, especially when it's a night that no one she knows is at the theatre.

I'm not going to ruin the movie for you - we saw Julie and Julia - but watching Julia Child study French reminded me of the time Doreen and I got it into our heads to study the language. We scooted our chairs up close to the computer, pursing our lips together in unison as we repeated after the French speaking software. "Bonjour!" In the interest of foreign relations, after a couple of hours and several faux pas (ha! two more French words!) we gave up, knowing if a true Frenchman heard us he'd march us off to the guillotine for the atrocious way we butchered their proud language.

But still... I saw the cafe, the steaming cup of cafe au lait resting beside a hot buttery croissant just set down by a temperamental waiter who chain-smoked unfiltered cigarettes, argued with the locals and ignored the beautiful, brooding American writer in a red beret (um, for the unenlightened, that would be me.) Oh and I'm European thin in this little fantasy too.

So I've decided to go back to the drawing board. Want to learn along with me? I thought so... therefore I took the liberty of looking up a few key words and phrases to help you on your way.

And so, mes amis, as promised, here is all the French you need to know:

Faux pas - pronounced foe pah. A false step, an error in judgement, a mistake, i.e. Dating your best friend's dad was a faux pas. A big ass faux pas.

A la mode - pronounced ah la mohd. With ice cream. i.e. I'd like to eat my Cheerios a la mode but my mother won't let me.

Gauche - pronounced gohsh. Tactless. i.e. When I asked if my butt looked fat in these pants and you said no, your butt looks fat in all your pants, I thought you were being gauche. And then I remembered, you're a jerk.

Beaucoup - pronounced boh koo. Lots, much, plenty. i.e. His mail order bride cost beaucoup bucks but was worth it.

Je ne regrette rien - pronounced I don't know how but I love this one. I regret nothing. i.e. I ate the whole bucket of popcorn but je ne regrette rien.

Mais oui - pronounced may wee. But of course, often said with sarcasm. i.e. Can I have six friend sleep over on a school night? Mai oui, Ziggy!

French fries - pronounced french fries. Delicious fried wedges of potato, probably the most frequently spoken French word in America. i.e. Would you like french fries with your burger?

Ok, maybe french fries is not actually a french word or phrase and I just happen to know they call them pomme frites but... what's a French lesson without french fries?

In conclusion, mes amis, here's a little French tongue twister for you - first person to post a comment and tell me what it means gets to "theme" the next blog posting. **Disclaimer, you only get to "theme" it, I will actually write what I want, based on your theme, so think carefully and be creative...

Si mon tonton tond ton tonton, ton tonton sera tondu

Bon chance! Good luck!