Your Girlfriend is Ugly

New STOOF!!

Hey peeps!!

Ok well since it is 4th of July weekend, I'm going to be down the Cape until Tuesday with no access to email. So this gives you plenty of time to catch up on all of the yourgirlfriendisugly.com hilarity!!!

First off I posted a new blog today about how I have no friends at my gym. So read that and give me your opinions and feed back! And I also added new photos! Three new albums: Italy 2006, Paris 2005 and ST. Patty's Day 2006. Now...I was really smacked out when I added them so please don't mind the lame ass captions I posted. They are so ridiculously boring. Just admire the lovely French, Italian, and Southie scenery!

I do have to say though that I loved Paris so so so much and cannot WAIT to go back there!

I also posted some new photos under the album entitled "Pretty Much the Best Family Ever." I finally added a photo of my brother so check that out!!!

The 4th of July is my absolute faaaaaaaaavorite holiday so enjoy it OK? I'll be lying by the beach and guzzling down seafood with the fam. Have a great weekend!!!

xoxo!

Happenings at the gym

I have been a member of the Boston Athletic Center for over two years now. During those two years, I have not made one friend. I have mixed feelings about this. The only people I know there are LK, Shana and my trainer Louise.

However, I will say this. There are always people that you see at the gym all the time. Creatures of Habit who go at the same time that you go. So you'll nod "Hello" or give a half-hearted smile. There is this one guy though, who I see all the time and who sees me all the time who averts eye contact with me at all costs.

His alias is MF. You don't need to know why and it doesn't stand for what you think it stands for. So I've been seeing MF at the gym since I started. For a while I thought he was a good looking guy. He was always there at the same time as me and we tended to do the same cardio so we were always in the same general vicinity of each other. The only thing that irked me about him was that he would constantly do the Elliptical Machine and while in motion he would turn around and look at his leg muscles in the mirror. I mean come on....ew.

I found out from my sister that he'd been going there since she started and that they used to say HI to each other but then he just stopped.

Well...when I hear that someone is awkward I make it my mission to either befriend them and understand why they are awkward or just make them more painfully awkward. I attempted the former but ended up doing the latter.

When MF and I would walk in at the same time I would smile and say "Hey, what's up?" I think the first time I did this he was so surprised that he just walked away. The second time I tried to say hello to him I walked into a treadmill and tripped. I was so mortified that I just kept on walking.

After that it all kind of went down hill. Weird things started to happen: We would both be at the gym and it would be bumping and the only two machines open would be right next to each other. (If I can digress for a minute: when I work out, it would be an understatement to say that I "get into it". I full on JAM OUT when I'm working out. When a song comes on, I like tap the sides of the machine to the beat. I've even caught myself full blown singing along to the music. I guess I assume that everyone is wearing headphones and no one can hear me. Yeah....not the case.)

So I was on the machine next to him and completely not holding back. I finished my set and went to work on the bike. About 5 minutes later, he strolls into the bike area; we make eye contact and I see him kind of hesitate. Once again, the only bike available is next to me. He walked up the the bike and kept going. I'm not trying to be paranoid, but I couldn't help but think, if I hadn't been on that bike would he have hopped on??

A couple of days later Shana and I were training with Louise and we were in the free weights area. Louise had us doing "bicep curls" and "skull crushers"  and a whole mess of other arm strengthening stoof. She instructs us to go and sit on two benches and as we make our way over there we see MF standing by the bench farthest to the left. And guess how many benches were available? Yup. Two.

My sister immediately made a beeline for the bench on the right, so I was stuck in the middle; four awkward feet from him. Louise hands us 7lbs weights (yeah that's right....I'm jacked...) and has us doing an exercise for the triceps. I glance over and he's pumping like 50lb free weights. Then I heard come out of my mouth, "Hey, don't put those away. I'll be using them next."

MF kind of stopped his repetitions and goes, "Huh?"

Gesturing to my 7 pounders I go, "Don't put those weights away. I'll be using them next."

MF looked at me, paused, paused....paaaaaaaaaaaaused....and then BURSTED out into uproarious laughter. Like he was doubled over.

Erm...I'm funny, but it wasn't that funny. Then I thought to myself, "Oh, well good. This can be our ice breaker!"

Shana and I finished our workout. MF had since moved on to make his rounds (sidebar: it has to be said that MF is at the gym for like hours and hooours on end. And he's not even jacked. He's kind of sinewy).

After my little Jokey McJokerson, I actually didn't see him at the gym for a while. When I finally did, it was back to the same old awkwardness. I'm not really sure what his deal is. Gay? Don't think so. And even if you're gay, what? You can't say "Hello" back to someone???  My guess is that he just a socially awkward person in general. Maybe a result of an Atomic Wedgie as a high school youth, or one too many "mom" break-ins while trying to get friendly with himself. Who knows.

But, I mean, do people generally make friends at the gym? I feel like kind of a loner. And apparently, according to Louise, I walk around looking pissed off all the time! iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii know!!! This past Monday she said she saw me walking and thought to herself "Oh no. Lisa's in a baaad mood." When in reality, I was simply hurrying to fill my water bottle so I could see the rest of the Red Sox game. Now I'm all self-conscious and try to walk around with a semi-smile, which I think makes me look kind of Bi-polar.

My morning commute

In case you all weren't aware, I am not a morning person. If morning were to be located at the North Pole, then well you'll find me chilling in the South Pole. I hate getting up. If coffee were not available, I would just assume hang myself.

So naturally today, as I was stuck in traffic for what seemed like my life at 8a.m., you can imagine my chagrin.

It was my brother's birthday yesterday, so I met my parents down at his school to hang out, give presents and watch Pedro get smooshed by the Sox. I had decided to stay over at my parents house earlier in the day, so my mom and I could hang out and tool around Wal-Mart while my dad could go home and watch the game. He doesn't touch Wal-Mart with a 10ft. pole. Personally, I have mixed feelings about the establishment, but hey, my face wash goes for $4.77 there. To me, you can't beat that.

Anyway, so after loading all of my laundry into the car, I decided to bypass my Dunkin' Donuts super jumbo larger than life iced coffee, because, well, I'd be back at my apartment soon. I could just get coffee there.

Let's all define "soon" shall we....

Rolling down 95 ("with my mind on my money and my money on my mind"...sorry...had to throw that in), anyway, as I was driving down 95, traffic was fine. Moving pretty nicely, not too many clowns. Although, I was in the left hand lane going 80 and people were whizzing past me. I mean WTF?! Where are you going? Who wants to get to work that early???!!! Then I come to the split at 95, you know the one I'm talking about, the split where you're going North and South at the same time. Yeah, well as soon as I maneuvered my way onto that, is where my life started to end.

Stopped dead. I flipped it on A.M. "Traffic on the 3's" and all they said was an accident. Mm..well...Ok. As I continued to inch further I craned my neck to see if there was any carnage. I mean...if I'm in traffic for 235072538620 hours, I'd like to see some broken glass, or a torn bumper. A body would be a bonus. But beggars can't be choosers.

So I fiiiiiiiiiiiinally made it to the Braintree split. Not having another person in my car, I had to forgo the H.O.V lane and continue to craaaaaaaaaawl along the Expressway. Without coffee, if I can just remind you. There's something about driving in traffic in the morning where I have to listen to a talk show, like Matty in the Morning. For some reason inane banter keeps my eyes open, where as ghetto gangsta rap, puts me right to sleep. Out like a log I am.

I am infuriated by the traffic. But what can you do? I mean, unless I'm driving the Bat Mobile and my car can suddenly sprout wings and fly over the madness, I'm pretty much SOL.

It takes 20 minutes to get from exit 8 to exit 10. So ridiculous. When I am in my car though, in traffic, I become a stare-ER. I fix my gaze on the person in the car next to me and watch them. I know it sounds creepy but what the hell else am I supposed to do with my time??? This one guy I checked out was in the drivers seat with his left foot hanging out the window. Not sure where he went to driving school. The lady behind me had a Husky riding shot gun. It kept leaping around and licking her and the windows. I mean, I like dogs and all, but I'd be piiiiissed if that was my dog. Strap that pooch in!!

A list of other interesting things viewed while on the Expressway going North:

• Number of people picking their nose thinking that no one is looking even though they are surrounded by grid lock traffic (6...remember this people..someone is aaaalways watching)
• Number of women crying hysterically into a cell phone while not wearing a head set (1)
• Number of "Crusade for Christ" bumper stickers (2)
• Number of people reading the newspaper, a book or a map (3...I get that we're in traffic, but come on! buy a book on tape!!)
• Number of station wagons decked out in "ICP" (Insane Clown Posse) paraphernalia (1...so scary..I had to shut my eyes)

A fun commute indeed!

I finally arrived at my apartment. It was, at this time 9:15. I had to drop off my laundry and grab a few things. Still, uncaffeinated, I walked out to my car to FINALLY make my way to work. Across the street there were two roofers working on the...well working on the roof...that is what roofers do right?

One of them let out a low whistle. Why I looked up, I don't know but I made eye contact to which The Whistler replied:

"Hey Honey!"

"Erm hi."

"Hey I see you've got a big hole in the front of your car..."

The Whistler is referring to my "Ghetto Medallion". Long story short, some ass clown backed into the front of my car a year ago and knocked out the VW medallion on my car. I get so much shit for it and EVERYONE and their grandmother has a comment.

"Yes. Yes I did lose my medallion."

"Ha. You want me to plug that hole for ya??"

EW.

The Whistler and the other roof guy exchanged thumbs up and slaps on the back. Yeah...because that was Oh-So classy and original. I mean...for a second there I almost took him up on his offer. What girl wouldn't swoon at that line???

It was too early in the morning for sexual advances from roofers. And plus I hadn't even had my coffee yet.

At Least I Was Wearing Deodorant: From The Vault

Hey guys! I have to pull a blog from the vault today. I am very busy and important at work! But have no fear!! I have lots of ideas for fresh new blogs that will appear tomorrow! So settle in and read this story about the hottie I always see at one of my favorite restaurants.

Oh and p.s...if you need some more entertainment, check out CNN.com and read all about the Amish farmer who was caught in a Milk Sting...I mean.....

Original post occurred on May 30th, 2006

It seems that when I am around someone of the opposite sex, male (like that needed clarification....this is awkward...ok moving on) whom I find attractive I am continuously a.) decked out in my GYM  finest and b.) walking into things.

I'm not quite sure what this could be diagnosed as. Since I am neither shy nor blind it would appear that I should be able to enter an establishment looking quasi normal and be able to exit said establishment where a "hottie" has just said "hello" to me without cracking my forehead on the door jam.

Or not.

This has happened to me a couple of times. The latest instance was this evening as I went to pick up sushi for dinner. After having a thoroughly good and sweaty work out I hopped in my car and drove to the South End to Jae's for some yummy sushi-ness. I double parked The Rollerskate and made my way into the restaurant, nodding a hello to the valet who is now my new BFF.

Decked out in paint spattered sweat pants, a PATRIOTS WORLD CHAMPIONS t-shirt, a green hoodie and a rat's nest for hair, I walked up to the counter where the nice take out girl immediately recognized me. As I opened my wallet for my Amex I hear "Hey..."

Immediately my change mysteriously falls everywhere.

It's the HOTTIE FRONT DESK GUY!!

"How's it going??"

I stare at him.."SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT!!"

"Ermhi."

I am trying to register what I look like on the other end. Medusa comes to mind. Medusa in HoBo Drag. This has happened before. The first time I saw him I had been crying before I stumbled into Jae's to grab my food. My mascara was everywhere and my nose was running. But he still gave me a smile and asked if I was Ok.

And today was no different. After I mumbled my pitiful "Hi" he just stood there in all of his hotness smiling at me. I pretended to read my order on the receipt. As I was "pretend" reading it I realized that they forgot part of the order.

"Um...Is the pad tai on here?"

Hottie Front Desk Guy immediately springs into action, grabs the bag, scans the receipt and says, "It's not here. I'll have them rush it for you."

"Uh...er..Ok..I'm going to go wait by my car. I'm kind of double parked in a weird spot and..adsl;jas;ldjfa;df;lasjfdsl;afdjsla;fjlasfd...." SHUT UP! Just walk out the door!!!

So as I'm making my way out the door backwards, still babbling on to him about how I double park strangely, I do not notice two elderly women making their way into the restaurant. I swing around quickly to open the door and pretty much knock over one of the old ladies...during rush hour. I think a cabbie honked.

I am so horrified that I speedily ask her if she is OK while haphazardly dusting off her jacket and then sprint to my car to wait for my food. I guess luckily I had my running shoes on right?

Now...let me tell you something...I go to Jae's constantly. I adore their Mojitos and the sushi is amazing. Hottie Front Desk Guy is NEV-ER working when I have showered. And it's not that I even want him seeing me normal. I think part of my allure (!!) is that I roll in all gym-ed out and smacked out of my brain. Plus, I kind of don't want the added pressure of him seeing me look good. Because then whenever I go I'm going to be all "Oh well I have to wear a good outfit because I've raised the bar. Hottie Front Desk Guy has seen me in my Designer Duds!!"

No thanks. I want to be free to go to Jae's in my sweat pants, paint splattered or otherwise. He is just so incredibly hot and nice (and maybe straight...??) that I would like to not be tripping over the carpet or stubbing my toe or falling ass over tea-kettle when I am talking to him.

So as I'm leaning on my bumper talking on the phone I see Hottie Front Desk Guy peak out of the front door. He spots me and starts to amble over to where I am "strangely" double parked. I hang up the phone and smile back at him.

"Oh thanks. I was actually just about to come in and check on it. You didn't have to come out."

"No problem. I needed some fresh air. You have a good night ok?" (insert hot smile here)

"A;LDSJKFALSDJFLASJDFermok!..."

I'm so wearing jeans and mascara next time I go in there.

Locker Room Ethics

Ok so. You have a membership at a gym. You go to the gym after work, herego you have to change out of your monkey suit (or in my case, jeans) and into your gym clothes. You do this in a locker room. It's a pretty well established fact that locker rooms are where people change right? I have heard varying opinions from people regarding locker rooms: some say that, yes, while it is a place for undress, people can show some discretion. Others say, It's a damn locker room. Get naked, change and get over it.

I'm kind of middle of the road. While I don't hide in the corner, or go into the bathroom to change, I'm also not in the middle of the wall of mirrors checking out my ass. I demurely change in front of my locker. And also, I mean....if you don't like it, don't be lookin'! Naa mean???

So let me tell you a little story. After being severely smacked out from work today, I roll into my gym to meet with my trainer, Louise, who is, for all of you who have heard me talk about Louise, my new BFF. So I make my way into the women's locker room. My locker is right in the first row so when you walk in and turn right that's the row where my shampoo and shower gel puff reside.

So you know, like I said, it's a locker room. This point is not lost on me. There are nudey people running around. I employ the psychology that you know the person next to you is topless and blow drying her hair, but you just keep to yourself, grab your water and go do your 45 minutes on the Arc Trainer. No questions asked.

So today, coffee in hand, I plopped my stuff down and extracted my gym clothes. I looked to my left and saw a woman barreling down the hall of lockers right at me. Older, in her late 50's. I smiled politely at her and stepped to the right to let her get by.

I see her unlocking her locker, which is about 3 feet from mine. She then scooches a stool over and sits down on it...facing directly at me.

Hmm...well...I kind of paused and waited for her to, ya know, give me some space or at least turn around. No go and I have already unbuttoned my jeans. There was kind of no smooth transition out of the situation. I couldn't necessarily close up shop and go else where to change even though she was pretty much staring at me. I swear I was waiting for her to take out a boom box and have "Pour Some Sugar On Me", begin playing. So I shimmied out of my Gap Low Rise's, folded them neatly and put on my work out pants. I can see that the woman is still watching me. Well clearly she has the "Free To Be You and  Me" way of thinking so I just went for it. I whipped off my shirt and unhooked my bra. Me and my Golden Globes were just kind of....there.

Still averting eye contact I put on my sports bra and slipped into my "City Sports" shirt that is like 9 sizes too big on me. Ok....dressed. Just have to put on my sneakers.

I turn to my right, towards the mirror and I catch the lady's eye. Oh....it's a hungry one.

After I laced up my shoes I stood up, while at the same time, the woman let out a big sigh and goes, "Is it really hot in here?"

I mean...it was warm. Kind of stuffy. So I replied, "Yeah actually it is."

She replied "Hmmm...funny...because the air conditioner is on."

I meeeeean....is this woman hitting on me? I have no game and don't even realize when a guy hits on me so how am I supposed to know when a woman is?!

Oy. And I mean, does this woman think that I want to start a conversation with her while my ass is hanging out? I don't even talk to my sister when I'm changing out of my bra. I mean whatever has to be said can wait until my nipples are securely nestled in my sports bra.

I mean right?!

Ok now listen up....

I just came from the bathroom. As I was washing my hands I scoped myself out in the mirror like all girls do. Checking out the pores, the eyebrows, seeing how the hair is holding up. As I was making the rounds on my face I noticed a orangeish/brownish spot on my right eye brow.

"Ew.." I thought to myself, "What the hell is that?"

I snatched a paper towel and scrubbed at it. It was peanut butter! Yes...apparently for the past 2 hours, I had been walking around with a globule of creamy peanut butter on my face. In those two hours I had participated in 3 conversations with people, not one person told me that I was rocking the Skippy on my face.

(Although in retrospect they were darting their eyes rather shadily over the upper right portion of my face...)

And what the hell was I doing this morning as I was eating my half a wheat bagel with Creamy Skippy on it?! Did I have an exceptionally itchy eye brow? Was I so stressed out that I had to take my Skippy bespeckled hands and hold my head in them??

There are some people who would get offended and/or embarrassed if you told them they had peanut butter on their face. Yeah....I'm not one of those people.

Feel free to point out if I have spinach in my teeth, coffee stains on my shirt, lipstick or lip gloss on my teeth. If you see that I sat in something let me know! OR if I'm not paying attention, feel free to give my behind a friendly *thwap*. You know...to get off whatever it is I sat in...

I'm telling you this because I'll be the first person to offer you gum if your breath stinks, hand over floss for those poppy seeds and tell you that your fly is down. So return the favor would you please??

Hold on...The Backstreet Boys are still around??

Good God. Life as everyone knows it is over. Kevin Richardson has decided to leave the Backstreet Boys.

Wait.....who?

Exactly. Because unless your name is Nick Carter no one really knows who Kevin Richardson is. And even if you do know who Nick Carter is you're probably just as shocked as I am, to learn that the Backstreet Boys are planning to come out with a new album.

But I digress.

Once again, CNN.com has come through with some seriously Tell-All news.

Apparently the 33 year old Richardson is leaving the band to "pursue other interests".

Can he please define what other interests he would like to pursue? I mean didn't he start off his career by being Goofy or Micky at Disney World before he was discovered by the "Pizza-The-Hut"-esque looking Lou Pearlman?

The article also said:

"The remaining members, McLean, Nick Carter, Howie Dorough, and Brian Littrell, said they had no plans to replace Richardson."

Well this makes sense. Who are they going to get to replace him? They're not going to find someone his age for fear that the old Geezer will blow a hip during the "dance" sequences. And they're not going to get some snarky younger kid for fear that he'll take off with all of the hookers and cocaine due to his youthful spryness.

" 'The door will always be open for him to return to the Backstreet Boys. We wish him the all the best in his future endeavors,' they said on the band's Web site. The group plans to return to the studio this weekend to begin work on their next album, which is due later this year."

Why exactly are they coming out with another album? Didn't Black & Blue leave them bruised and battered enough? Don't get me wrong, when I was a wee young thing (*cough* like 21 *cough*), I actually chose BSB over *NSYNC any time of day. Me and Slut used to jam to them driving down the cape with all the windows open. We were sooo gangsta. And Kevin actually was my favorite Back Street Boy. But I mean, how hard up are these guys for cash exactly? I think someone needs to tell these guys that it's time to put down the microphone head sets, lay aside the flashy dance costumes and retire. Or get a job at Home Depot or something.

If you really wanna know more about Richarson's departure, click here for the entire story.

CNN.com: again with the hard news

Is it just me or have Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban been getting married for like 8 years now?

My always reliable friends at CNN.com have reported in today's **Top Stories** that the Urbanantor and the Dragon Lady will wed this weekend.

"The fine points of the ceremony -- expected Sunday night -- remain top secret. But Kidman has been gracious and obliging, even sending out a case of beer for the paparazzi camped outside her harborside mansion Tuesday, her 39th birthday. (They sang "Happy Birthday" to her over the intercom.)"

Who wants to be a Stalkerazzi with me and get free Nicole Kidman beer?

I mean who cares. Just get married already. I feel like every issue of US Weekly, IN Touch and Life & Style reports "Kidman and Urban to Wed!!!"

I want to ask the editors of the aforementioned Rag Mags: "Yeah? Are you sure about that? Did you get an invite in the mail? Have they asked you yet if you want chicken or beef?" Just STFU about it and let it be a surprise like when Britney married that Ape in Vegas.

For anyone not living in the world, here are some snap shots:

Scary Dragon Lady

The Urbanator. Does he even speak?! I never hear him utter words.

Click here for the full article.

Bugged Out

Two nights ago I was lying in bed leisurly flossing my teeth. Being the oral hygiene freak and "cavity-phobe" that I am, I make sure to get everything out. Even if this means using half of the floss in one sitting.

So, perched on my bed, watching "Six Feet Under", I was deftly getting the goop out from between my Lateral Incisor and Canine, when I heard it.

*Tap* *Tap* Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz *Tap* *Tap* *taptaptaptap* Bzzzzzz....

This is the familiar yet petrifying sound of a bug flying around,  hitting my ceiling trying to look for a way to get the eff out before getting squished.

It has to be said that I hate bugs. From ants, to beetles to spiders (big ones) to crickets, bugs scare the shit out of me. And yes, there is a story behind it.

I was about eight. It was super hot out and I was downstairs in our living room. I had just secured the last cherry popsicle. This being a feat in and of itself because my older sister would always snag them before I could, leaving me to suck on Grape or Orange. But not this time! HAR!! I got the last Cherry one. And it was one of those popsicles that had the double sticks. So you could actually break it in half and have two popsicles if you were feeling generous. Which I never was.

So I was downstairs trying to cool off. I was lounging on our love seat, probably watching Gem and the Holograms or The Puffalumps; one hand over the side of the chair, the other holding tightly to my yummy popsicle. It came time to move the wrapper down, so I could have better access to my frosty treat. As I languidly brought my hand up to the wrapper, crawling up my arm was a June Bug the size of a Buick.

I shrieked, flung the bug off and for some strange reason chucked my popsicle across the room. I didn't know what to do! I remained in the chair, in the fetal position until my dad came in.

"What is wrong?!?!!?!?!?!" My dad looked around wildly, surveying the damage: A huge June Bug scuttling along and a cherry red popsicle dripping onto the VHS of Flight of the Navigator (one of my favorite movies!!!).

"DAD! THERE'S A REALLY BIG BUG THAT WAS CRAWLING ON ME!!!"

My dad simply trapped the bug under a cup and brought it outside. I don't know what came of the bug but I'm hoping it's fate involved the underside of my dad's Timberland.

And to this day, I still freeze when there is a bug about. I know it's not going to hurt me, or morph into some sort of 800 pound beast. I just don't know what it is. I see bugs and I think of the time when I was eight and one was weaving it's way up my left arm.

My fear of creepy crawlers is so profound, that two years ago, I made plans to go see my best friend in Baltimore. The ticket was booked, plans were made, happy hours were mapped out. She called me about 3 weeks before I was scheduled to be there and goes "You'll never guess!! This is the year of the Cicada!!!"

"The what?"

"The Cicada!!! They only come up every seventeen years!!!!"

All I could think to myself was, what in the hell is a Cicada and why is she so excited about it?

Long story short, Cicadas are bugs that only emerge every seventeen years. The female lays her eggs and blah blah blah. They are loud and gross looking and I was canceling my trip.

"Jen," I said, "I can't deal with that. I cannot be walking down the street with bugs falling out of the sky."

An image of me holding an umbrella to shield myself as Cicada's showered down on me popped into my head.

As it turned out, I was visiting at the very end of the Cicada season and when I arrived in Baltimore, there was (thankfully) not a Cicada to be found.

So now back to present day, in my room, a strange arthropod buzzing around and floss hanging out of my teeth. I sat there staring, flinching every time it made a dip from crashing into the ceiling. Finally it swooped over near my closet.

Like a Gazelle, I grabbed an old Vogue (the one with Keira Knightley on the cover, so it was OK) and hopped onto my bed. I tracked the bug like a PUMA tracks it's prey. Teetering on the edge of my bed, I swatted at the bug. *DAMN!* MISSED! I tightened my grip on the Vogue: wait for it.....wait for it!!!

**THWAP!!!**

Har! Victory!!! (insert pumping of fists here) I looked down to see the carnage, but, what is this? No bug to be found. I peered up at the ceiling and there, in two halves is the mystery bug, in all of it's exoskeleton, segmented body glory.

Ew.

So now, I have a bug corpse hanging from my ceiling. Added to the list of things that give me the heeby jeebies is the strange crunching sensation that occurs when you smoosh a bug in a napkin, paper towel or tissue. I would rather have a dismembered bug hanging from my ceiling then deal with that. I am simply waiting until it dries up and falls to my carpet where I can vacuum it up with all of the other anonymous things that accumulate on my floor.

Read this and find out why we should hang on July 1st

Hey peeps.

So I don't know about you all, but I P-U-M-P-E-D that it is summer. Not only does summer mean tans, nice pedicured feet and BBQ's, but it also is home to my favorite holiday: The 4th of July.

I know. Most people say Christmas, but I love the 4th of July. It's the only holiday where you don't have to buy any presents for anyone and it can usually involve a Lobster bib and a frothy Gin & Tonic. I mean.....does it GET better than that??!?!?!??

Anyhew. This year is no different.

This 4th of July weekend, one of my favorite local bands, A Hero Next Door, will be playing at Avalon on July 1st. They are involved in this Emergenza competition. They've already killed it at the Middle East upstairs and downstairs, The Paradise and now they made it to Avalon. If they win that it's on to NYC and eventually/hopefully Germany.

Not only do they completely rock, but you really won't meet a nicer bunch of guys.

"Oh but Lisa, it's soooooo early. Fourth of July is soooooo far away and I'm not sure what I'm doing..."

Ok, well, I just gave you one thing you can pencil in your day planner or type into your Outlook Calendar. I mean....the show is early enough that you can still go out after and do your thing. Oh and also, what I failed to mention earlier is that the band wins based on crowd votes! DUH!! All the more reason to come and play with me (I mean...like you needed a reason!!!) :)!!!

Definitely check out their Myspace page for more info regarding 7/1 at Avalon and to listen to their tunes. If you don't have Myspace then check out their website for news, info and other such rocking goodies.

Even if it's not your style of music, like I said these guys put on a killer show. If anything you will leave entertained and sweaty!!!