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How do you know when you need a vacation?

5 Aug

I knew last year when this happened.

Last night, my boyfriend and I were drinking margaritas out on my porch. As the sound of sirens and the ice cream truck jingle serenaded us in the distance, I asked him, “How do you know you when you need a vacation?”

“Uh..” he thought aloud for a moment, “having a wet dream of yourself on the beach in Tahiti, only to wake up to a wet dream.”

I laughed and shook my head. “I usually know when I find myself cussing at people on Facebook who post beautiful beach shots from their vacations because every place is effing lovely and I just want to go to there already but instead I’m stuck at work and the life is draining from my eyes and soon we’ll all be regretting not having more fun in our lives and then we’ll die.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be at the beach in one week,” he reminded me. Excited about that thought, we then went back and forth and made a list. Add to it!

 

beachy

Sigh………

 

How do you know when you need a vacation?

– When the only thing you can celebrate about today was that you pooped before your shower and a butt lint crisis was avoided.

– Your Google Search history at work from 9:30 am – 1:30 pm includes the words “sunsets, “beaches” and “beach sunsets.”

– You daydream in the grocery store for 20 minutes while people yell at you in line.

– You make a different beachy drink every night while listening to the Pandora station “Laid Back Beach Music” because if you’re drunk enough, you can “travel” anywhere.

– Camping in your backyard… which is full of cockroaches and rats.

– You spent 2+ hours skimming Carnival.com, holding back your trigger finger from booking a last-minute deal.

– You wear your bathing suit around the house and pretend you’re going back out on the beach any second now.

– When you hear a Jimmy Buffett song and want to punch him for living in a permanent vacation spot.

– You buy a baby pool so at least your dog and/or feet can get a vacation.

– You make your boyfriend watch “Beach Blanket Bingo” and you both enjoy it just a little too much.

– You look at Yelp reviews of various beach campsites.

– You buy key lime flavored everything as a means of channeling the Florida Keys.

– Everything seems to piss you off and you know you need a wave to knock you on your ass to keep you in check.

Ode to a Stray Hair

31 Jul

At first I was like, “Is this my life now? Should I really publish a poem about a stray hair?” and then I remembered that I published a poem about a squeaky bra and also that this is my place to play with poesy and post photos and do what I please. So there.

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A stray chin hair after the storm

A stray chin hair after the storm

 

O, stray hair! An insult
to time, thou art most unwelcome
upon mine chin or stomach or ample bosom
or wherever you decide to pop up next.

You are at your worst when coarse,
dark in shade,
and when my boyfriend is first
to recognize your sneaky, hideous violation.

Be gone, darkling, I beg!
Dissolve into the forest dim,
for I have enough hair, already experience
plenty of awkwardness–

and need not your further assistance.

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Hot and Bothered

18 Jul

At 4 pm today, right when I get off work, it will be 98° with a heat index of 110°. Today is one of those days I fully regret not buying a house with central air conditioning. I know, I know–I shouldn’t be complaining, but I’m hot. Like, really hot. If you were inside my shirt or pants, you would understand.

Humidity and thick heat get me really worked up, people, and it isn’t even the good kind. As the temperature rises, I feel a pressure build inside of me that when at its zenith, may actually result in me screaming at and slapping everyone who tries to speak to me.

Also, it makes my hair frizzy and my body sweaty. Sure, cold water will keep me hydrated, but it doesn’t stop the sweating of my heaving, voluptuous bosom. I’m sweating at this very moment and wearing white today and I swear that if I bounced around and giggled unintelligently I could win all the spring break wet t-shirt contests right about now.

And my hindquarters? Just fucking forget about it. If my posterior portion’s climate equals that of a rain forest, you men must feel like you’re in the pits of hell with all that body hair. Seriously, your butts must be so uncomfortable with all that swamp ass. My respect goes out to you, fine sirs.

So anyway, instead of working today I found a few cool things on the internets that might help and I wish I had invented all of them so I could afford a house with central air. If you have more ideas, please feel free to comment and save the world from my T&A issues!

 

First of all, there’s this USB butt cooling cushion:

buttcool

 

and then there’s butt cooling cream that cyclists use:

2696

 

and ladies, there’s cooling cream for your boobs, too. Nursing women use it, but sweaty girls can too, and probably those dudes with man boobs:

300

 

and finally,”My Breast Friend” cooling pads that go inside your bra:

517-9f70v6L

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Summer Fun for Poorish People

9 Jul

Is it hot? Are you kind of poor? Do you want to have fun outside AND cool down at the same time? If you can’t join a pool, go on vacation or live somewhere that is currently experiencing winter, I have the solution!

Here is what you’ll need (4-6 are key, folks):

1. A really good sprinkler.

2. Blow up pool.

3. Grapefruit, orange or cranberry juice.

4. Vodka.

5. An imagination.

6. No dignity at all whatsoever (not to be confused with “No Diggity”– the song by Blackstreet ft. Dr. Dre and Queen Pen).

Okay, so the rest is pretty self-explanatory. Go ahead and blow up the pool, hook that sprinkler up to a hose, mix juice with vodka (or don’t…), put on a bathing suit (or don’t…WINK), sit in the blow up pool while the sprinkler sprays you, get hella tipsy, close your eyes and imagine you’re anywhere but the yard. You’re welcome. Oh, and don’t forget sunscreen. I use the kind with sparkles because it makes me shimmer and my neighbors are probably all “ooooh” and “aaaaah” about it.

Photographic summary:

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+

1000947_58484EP_A_400    

+

 danzka-vodka

+

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= Yay! 

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Katie Couric: Part 2

23 Jun

You may remember part one of the Katie story when I explained that a producer read my blog and had me on the show. The post she read was about the funny, ridiculous stuff I did while taking the sleeping medication Ambien during the first semester of my freshman year at college. I had little to no memory of the experiences and my poor roommate, Kelli, would have to tell me all about it the next day. Luckily, unlike the woman who appears with me in the segment,  nothing bad happened to me while on the medicine.

So anyway, the producer read the post and said I was cute and funny and in my head I had a little party because it’s not every day that a producer of anything ever calls me “cute” or “funny.” Hell, it’s not every day that a producer calls me at all, so I was pretty much simultaneously peeing and pooping my pants with happiness. One of my proudest moments was when she saw me in the green room on the day we taped and announced loudly, “Thheeerre’s my little hobbit looover!” causing me to guffaw nervously as the other guests appearing on the show curiously stared at me. Ugh, I am turning red just thinking about it.

The episode airs Monday on ABC at 4pm EST. Watch the show if you want to see me on TV in my pajamas…most likely being awkward. I’m in the second segment. Also, keep in mind that after we taped, my boyfriend and I had to carry life-size cardboard hobbits through the streets of NYC. Yes, they will be on the show. Yes, I’m a nerd… but I guess you knew that already.

 

1274

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Lorie the Lesbian

11 Jun

Once upon a time there lived six lesbian artists in the pink townhouse down the street from me.

I was invited over for a birthday party, which also happened to be a clothing swap and a potluck of foods made only with beets because they were all on a beet diet.

It was a hot, humid day and their air conditioning and shower were both broken, so upon entering the house one was immediately slapped in the face by a putrid scent that I can only describe as “men’s locker room.” I wasn’t there to judge anyone for being stinky, though. I was there to celebrate a birthday and sweat while eating a beet cake.

The birthday girl, Lorie, wore a superman shirt, bike shorts and red sparkly pumps that matched the color of her hair.

For her birthday, she received a tandem bike, a hat and a painting of her own vagina. The painting was given to her by a roommate who had a mustache and wore thick glasses, yellow pants and rainbow suspenders. Now knowing what Lorie looked like under those bike shorts, I wished I had purchased her a gift certificate for a wax. Then again, all the ladies there were quite hairy in general and I, the hairless Sphynx of the room, was the outcast.

The only reason I was invited to the party was because she and my boyfriend at the time were great friends. There was a portrait of her that hung above our bed that she drew of herself, which I found quite odd. When we first moved in together I asked him to take it down, but he said I was being silly. “It’s just art,” he said.

About a month later, I found hidden, recent photos of her in lingerie. Apparently those were “just art,” too. Whatever they were, I ended up burning them at a beach bonfire and told him it was for “artistic purposes.” He didn’t find that very funny.

We broke up a couple of months later, I guess due to artistic differences, and soon I bought my own house.

Two years later, I was sitting on my front porch when the pair rode by my house on the tandem bike she got for her birthday. When they saw me they waved in unison and she dinged the little bike bell with wild abandon. I waved back sarcastically and spent the rest of the day with the below song in my head. I often wonder where she hung that painting of her own vagina.

 

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Fuck you, Texas lawmakers

7 Jun

Madame Weebles has a few comments for the Lone Star State. Cheers.

Madame Weebles's avatarFear No Weebles

By now I’m sure many of us have heard about this travesty of justice, in which a Texas man was found not guilty of murdering an escort. Under Texas law, a person is justified in the use of deadly force to recover property stolen as part of a nighttime theft—in this case, the theft of $150 that the escort allegedly took from the defendant. This is just one of the many What the Fuck laws on the books in the Lone Star State. Hence, the rant that follows…

————————————————————————————————————————–

So Ezekiel Gilbert has been acquitted. Phew, you boys must be so relieved. How tragic it would have been to incarcerate a perfectly good white man merely for the cold-blooded murder of a woman…a non-white woman who was working as an escort. Interestingly, another Texas man, who happens to be black, was sentenced to 50 years in prison for possession…

View original post 694 more words

History of Taco Tuesday

4 Jun

In my new religion, today is an important day. It is both my duty and pleasure to share the history of this sacred holy day with the community (just imagine that Andrew of Shut Up Dad and I am at your front door and you answer and Andrew hands you an informational pamphlet and NO your passive aggressive huffing and puffing won’t get us to hurry…so listen up).

It began long ago on a Tuesday when the mists of light arose through the darkness to animate and bring purpose to the First Meeting of the First Man and First Woman at Chi Chi’s…many years prior to the Mexican restaurant’s fatal hepatitis A outbreak. As I recall, I had a birthday party there in 1993 which involved a little birthday song that rhymed “birthday” with “olé” and then they gave my fat ass some free fried ice cream and a sombrero that I still own. No one even gives out free sombreros anymore, it’s so disappointing.

I digress. Apologies.

So anyway, the First Man and First Woman went to Chi Chi’s. Unto them many tacos and margaritas were served, which assisted in joyous conversation and a fine First Meeting. Thus, the First Man and First Woman celebrated, for this was a day the food gods had made, and it was good.

The two felt a spiritual connection, one likely brought on by the warmth of the western wind…or maybe just the excess of margaritas…perhaps both. Regardless, it led them back to his place.

Shortly after they arrived, a Mayan drum song began to play out of nowhere and kissing stuff happened and soon even touching stuff happened, too. Even though the First Woman’s mother insisted that all women who sleep with men upon the First Meeting are dirty little hussies and trollops, the two spent the night together as one in bliss. This ignited an eternal fire–it’s light was the mind’s first awakening.

A wolf’s howl can be heard every Tuesday at 10:32 pm as a symbolic reminder of this magical occurrence.

In remembrance, we are called to worship on this spicy Sabbath day through taco and/or margarita consumption, writing poetry and making sweet, sweet love with a consenting partner (or hand) while playing the video below because of the intense passionate music mixed and wolf pictures.

Seriously, if nothing else, do it to the video/song. The sounds of your love-making will reverberate off the rooftops, I promise.

Anyway, have a happy, safe Taco Tuesday!

 

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La La’s Relationship Advice Column

22 May

Yesterday on Facebook I asked for people to submit questions to me about relationships. I’ve always secretly wanted an advice column in the newspaper and I thought this would give me a chance to try it out.

I am splitting this up into two posts, so don’t fret if your question is not answered below.

Here we go.

 

1. Why do I always have to brush my teeth before kissing my wife? 

Here’s the deal. Boys are stinky pretty much all the time and we women have to deal with it and that’s okay because we love you. So you’re walkin’ around stinkin’ it up like Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown while us gals smell like beautifulness and angel nectar because we never poop or sweat. It’s true, we don’t do either of those things. So, you have to brush your teeth before you kiss your wife because she has to smell your putridness all the time–should she really have to taste it, too?

 

2. Does the carpet always match the drapes?

When you think about it, if the carpet always matched the drapes, most women would have bald heads or mohawks. Some women would have pubic highlights that would end up looking like stripes. If this were the 70’s, we would all have afros. Actually, that would be really funny. So, in conclusion, the answer is no, the carpet doesn’t always match the drapes, but it would be funny if this were the 70’s and we all had afros. Haha, and oh my god, “disco balls” would play and active role in my sexual vocabulary.

 

3. Is it sweet or perverted that my husband signs his notes and cards to me: “Your Love Muscle”….

WELL, if nothing else, he’s a sneaky wordsmith because we don’t know if he’s referring to his heart or his penis. Very clever indeed, good sir. Is he a husband in love or a husband in lust? We’ll never know for certain, but I’m going to say it’s probably both and that he’s a sweet pervert, just to keep you on your toes.

 

4. My boyfriend doesn’t want to get busy as much as I do. He thinks a dozen or so times a week is fine, but that’s barely enough to get my motor running. What’s the best way to get him to perform his boyfriendly duties to my satisfaction?

I recently faced this same issue. My suggestion is that you dress up as things that guys like–perhaps a food item like chips, for example. Guys love chips. I personally chose to take a bath in whiskey and dress up as football running back Marshawn Lynch and this nearly tripled my weekly sexy time encounters. I yelled, “touchdown!” at the good part, too. He liked that.

 

5. How do I get my boyfriend to propose to me? We’ve talked about it and he says he has a plan, but it hasn’t happened yet!

There are a few simple things you can do that will get him on his knee in no time:

1. Do nice things to his manly bits. Tune his horn…if you know what I mean. Don’t make me say it.

2. Fine. Blowjays. There. I said it.

3. Be passive aggressive about the fact that he’s taking his sweet ass time. Men love that.

 

6. How should I ask my girlfriend to marry me?

It’s hard to think of something original, I know. I think you should surprise her by bursting through the bathroom door while she’s sitting on the toilet and just hand it to her. What a delightful surprise! She will never expect it! (The lady in question 5 can go ahead and roll her eyes because question 6 has nothing to do with her…of course).

 

I hope I was able to offer helpful advice today. I will be back next week to answer more of your questions! In the mean time, please feel free to ask me anything in the comments below!

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Learning To Cook

7 May

If you’re anything like me, you have Italian mother who finds it disgraceful that you can’t cook. Perhaps she even tries to teach you, but you get lost while chasing her around the kitchen as she creates edible masterpieces without recipes and, amidst the confusion, you can’t help but think of the days when she was the one chasing you around the kitchen, but with a wooden spoon (you naughty, naughty thing, you). Maybe your older, popular, more successful, better looking brother is also a good cook and they both look down on you as you microwave hot dogs and put them on questionable buns.

My new roommate Jaime is also pretty clueless in this area, but we wanted to cook for our dudes. Like, we didn’t even know how to season and cook a good steak or properly boil potatoes to make mashed potatoes from scratch. Sure, we could have looked at recipes, but I’ve often found that this doesn’t work for me and that my timing is all off.

This, my friends, is where Adryon of Adryon’s Kitchen came to our rescue. She told us what to get and then came over and instructed us on how to make kitchen magic.

 

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Look, Jaime’s happy to be making some magical caramelized onions

 

Adryon will go to your house and teach you to use your own kitchen and bring some tools if necessary. You do the work so you actually learn something while she supervises and teaches you all the little tricks that recipes leave out. She is witty and really down to earth about it, too, making the experience less overwhelming. I think my favorite thing to learn was the salad dressing I made from scratch.

The potatoes were fun, too, but next time I’ll try not to be so jazzed about eating them that I sprain my wrist while mashing and stirring in a maniacal frenzy.

Whatever. They were worth it.

It was a busy couple of hours (with a break or two to watch cute proposal videos and cry while wearing aprons and drinking vodka…a sign that I am growing into a fine woman, indeed). I gained some confidence in the kitchen and it felt good to make an entire meal. Everything was delicious.

I would like for her to come back and show me more and she mentioned that we could do anything from one-on-one lessons to cooking for a dinner party. I kind of want to keep her.

She will do this with you, too, regardless of what cooking level you’re on, so Baltimore and surrounding area people should check out her blog adryonskitchen.com and give her a shout at adryonskitchen@gmail.com. It will make your disappointed mother proud and your boyfriend, girlfriend or dinner party happy (especially if you’d normally be serving hot dogs, otherwise). Out of town folks should still check out her recipes!

Also, side note, I’m still waiting for the update on when my episode of Katie Couric will air, so hold your horses.

 

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