Your Girlfriend is Ugly

Believe it or not, I do enjoy cleaning.

So when I was home on Sunday my mother sent me off with a new vacuum. In addition to the seventeen gallons of chicken noodle soup, scalloped potatoes, half a tub of homemade beef stew, half a pumpkin pie and some new slippers, she purchased a bag-less Dirt Devil for our apartment.

I tried to explain to my mom that we already had two vacuums occupying space at the apt, but she wouldn't hear of it. "No Lee-SAH! This is a bag-less vacuum. You don't have one of these-ah."

Well. Couldn't really argue with the woman there.

Anyway so tonight when I arrived home, I entered into my room to find that one of my cute little glass holder thingys with delicious smelling floral potpourri had fallen over because I, like an idiot, left the window open before dashing off to The Spoil. (Sidebar: it's practically a hurricane outside and I'm leaving windows open to just blow things about).

There were rogue bits of potpourri all over the place. *Argh*. All over my collection of travel bags and my MJ Venetia bag. Pieces of floral smelling yumminess were crunched all over my phone chargers that lay haphazardly on my floor. The more stuff I moved around the more potpourri I found. What? Did this stuff reproduce like rabbits?

I heaved all items mixed up in the potpourri carnage from my floor and onto my bed. It was time to bust out the new toy and see what it was made of!

I turned it on and immediately it like propelled me forward. This is not a large vacuum folks, but it's got some balls on it. I'm tooling around my room happily enjoying the sound of objects being sucked into the vacuum (you all know that sound. You hear it and you're like "YESSSS...."). That's when I see the biggest dust bunny known to man swirling in the vacuums zephyr. You know when you turn on the machine like random air comes out of the bottom and it stirs up other floor bandits? Well this is what was going on with the new bag-less Dirt Devil.

I thought to myself, "Hmm...let's check out the area shall we???"

I lifted up the dust ruffle from my bed (Yes I have a dust ruffle. Yes I am that girl. No I do not have a canopy bed thankyouverymuch) and the sight that met me was one of sheer horror. What lay beneath my bed was a veritable colony of dust, hair and a random pink Star Burst (how did I let THAT happen??? The pink ones are the best!). Without a second thought I shoved the Dirt Devil under my bed and sucked up the intruders.

Hmmm...what else can I vacuum up? I shimmied the vacuum towards my tall bureau. I felt around underneath with my hand and was met with the same habitants. Dirt Devil to the rescue!!

I shot up from the floor and began to look around at what else I could clean. My eyes were wily. My hair was piled in a crazy bun atop my head.

Need. To. Clean. I was intoxicated by this new machine. The red bag-less Dirt Devil had cast a spell on me and now I was woven in its weave of cleanliness!

I looked at the top of the bureau and that's when I saw the piled up dust all around my perfume bottles, by my jewelry box.

When I was a kid my mother would give us chores in a bullet pointed list:

• Go to Rochies and buy aluminum pie pans
• Vacuum the upstairs and downstairs. And don't forget to vacuum daddy's bathroom!
• Put the meatloaf in at 4:30 at 350 degrees
• Dust.

Ugh. Dusting. I always HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATED that one. Mainly because in our living room downstairs there is a half wall complete with about 92375394759347539457 family photos on it. When you dust, you have to either dust reeeeeeeeeeeally really carefully around the photos, which will inevitably end with The Donna coming home from work and saying, "Lee-SAH. Did you dust-ah??"

And she knew that I had done a half ass job at it. I didn't even have to say no. "Dust" would just be on the list the next day.

So basically you had to remove all of the pictures, swipe down the ledge with one of The Donna's special dust cloths that are probably the reason my sister has hardcore asthma today and then place all of the photos back exactly where they were.

I was mesmerized by the dust on my bureau. And in my head I thought to myself, "My mother would be horrified if she saw this."

I don't own an official dust cloth so I took a renegade headband that was lying on the floor and began to go to town. I dusted off every single one of my perfume bottles. I dusted the little tray that they sat in. I dusted my jewelry box, even the inside. And then when I was done I removed all of the stuff from the bureau and pledged the surface!

Do people even dust anymore? You never hear of anyone saying, "Yeah I totally went home today and dusted!" You'll hear the occasional, "Oh I have to clean my bathroom." But never, "I have to dust my half wall." It's just not the fashion anymore.

I think I may have gone into a rage blackout because when I finally came to I stared down at the formerly white headband turned dust-black headband in my hand and threw it to the floor. I looked around my room and it sure looked spotless but just for good measure, I saw a piece of potpourri that had missed the fate of the vacuum and left it there, swaying in the breeze of my open window.

OMG! I'm like totes a homie!

This is a total side bar blog. (BTdubb: what's up with no feedback on my Birthday Grinch blog?? Did I hit a nerve with a few folks there? Hmmmmmmmmmm....??)

Anyways. So I wore a hat to work today. Not like a Boston Red Sox World Series hat, but a cute little news boy hat I picked up from Target (pronounced: Tarjay).

So there were a few folks from our New York Office visiting today for a big wig meeting and for God knows whatever reason they were all congregating in the DR. So one of them, (the guy), goes, "WHAT UP HOMIE!!?" I was on the phone so I just gave him a half-hearted laugh and tossed him the peace sign and kept talking on the phone.

Then, one of the girls goes, "HEY! NICE HAT! YOU CHANGE YOUR LOOK AROUND EVERY TIME I SEE YOU!!!"

What am I a chameleon? My "look"? I didn't even know I had a "look". I'm wearing a hoodie from Delia's for Christ Sake!

Then the final commenter goes, "Yeah hey Lisa. I like your hat." To which the man responded, "Doesn't she look like a homie???"

I wheeled around to him and took in what he was wearing: this Queens born dude was wearing all black (naturally). A button down shirt with the first four buttons undone, his chest hair yanging out and a big gold cross that literally could have outfitted Nelly or Paul Wall with a new grill.

I go to him, in my wryest of tones, "What's up with this "homie" talk? What are you talking about Tony Soprano?"

So in closing, I'll leave you all with this visual:

Peace out my party peoples.

Lisa Gradie: So homielicious and soooo good for you.

Birthday Grinch.

I'm a self-proclaimed birthday grinch.

I'm sorry, I know it's completely not in my character, you know since I'm so high energy and spit fire-Y and all, but I just do not enjoy birthday celebrations. My own included. There is just always drama. You go through all of this trouble to plan a party and the one person you want to come doesn't, or your friend doesn't call you or someone gets so drunk that a fight ensues. No thanks. I'm all set with that hassle. I'd rather have a few friends over for mass amounts of wine and a game of Jenga.

This may sound crazy but personally for me and my own birthday I don't like being the center of attention. I know, I know. You all are soooo shocked since I'm usually the loudest and/or funniest person in the room. But I don't like people to make a fuss. And there is something about inviting people out to a birthday dinner and expecting them to throw down $50+ on you that just isn't right. Mainly because usually it's a large group and you always have the one or two people who don't drink or don't get an appetizer and refuse to just split the bill down the middle. So if you're like me in this situation you just get all annoyed and throw in an extra twenty because, well, the annoying person who won't pay isn't worth it. Then there I am, out $70 for this event. Plus a present. Who am I? Mrs. Astor? I'm saying it here and now: it's bullshit.

And it's not even about the money! Like why does an arbitrary birthday like a 26th or a 22nd have to be celebrated ?! I think after you turn 21 only milestones should be celebrated (25, 30, 40, 50...and 65. After that, you can celebrate every damn day just for being alive or not breaking a hip).

Then you have those people who are aaaaaaaaaaaaaall about their birthdays and God forbid you don't make it. I mean, the people who plan like five months in advance what they're going to do. They send out those threatening emails saying, "My birthday is April 21st. Here is what we're doing. It's November 15th now so you have NO EXCUSE TO NOT COME!!!"

I mean, who wants to go to a birthday celebration where you're legitimately forced into going? Like if you don't go, a plague will befall your family.

My family is well aware of my birthday grinch status. They think I'm totally weird. But I get it up and celebrate my family's birthdays. I mean they are my family and I love them.  And don't get me wrong. When my birthday rolls around (May 4th) I want phone calls wishing me happy birthday. Just because I wrote this blog does not entitle you to ignore me when 5/4 rolls around. Oh no. I still want the phone calls and the presents and the flowers from the people that I care about. But you won't have to worry about me stressing you out about birthday weeks, or months, or a full on birthday weekend celebration. No, no. And in return I expect the same back.

I will say this about birthdays, at least there is cake. Mmmmmm....caaaake...

Bathroom blunders.

Why is going to the bathroom at The Spoil always such an obstacle?

Not only do you have to contend with people brushing their teeth and practically bathing while you're trying to get your potty on but the stalls themselves are holes. Like, the bathrooms (or the women's room anyway, I don't get to the men's room....much) need a major face lift. And it's always such a project to get in there.

First of all the person who cleans the bathrooms at The Spoil is a man. And he's perfectly nice. In face I really like the guy!  But he'll be in there mopping the floor or changing the toilet paper rolls and you're like all awkward because you have to kick him out. I mean I guess you don't have to, but like....do you really want to be doing your woman thing with the cleaning guy in the stall next to you replacing the toilet bowl covers?

I'm not shy but I'm going to say NO to that one.

So I've been drinking a lot of water lately because I realized that my main liquid consumption has been coffee, seltzer water and $7.50 Livingston Chablis Blanc with a twist off. I broke down and purchased a large bottle of Poland Spring this morning (along with my coffee...of course). After chugging two rounds of the water I headed to the bathroom.

I walked into the second stall from the right (because that stall is my jam, as you know) locked the door and began to unbuckle my belt while simultaneously turning to grab a toilet bowl cover. That's when I noticed that the TP was low. And it's the annoying level of lowness. Like when the TP is all stuck together and the roll doesn't turn that easily and like a millimeter of TP comes off the roll at a time. Well that's what was going on here but I was already committed to my stall. My belt was already undone and I was just settled in.

So then I go to reach for a toilet bowl cover. Yes I use those. There is no way in hell that I'm going to plop down and risk getting some sort of disease. Plus I have a hard time squatting. I always try and I get distracted and nearly fall over. So I am at the mercy of the toilet bowl covers.

I go to grab one and it appears that the cleaning guy put them in all haphazardly. They are sticking out every which way. The one that I grab just rips in half. The next one I make a gander at does the same thing. I'm left with two halves of toilet bowl covers in my hand. I could put the two together and....

No. Never mind. In a fit of annoyance I just grab and entire handful of the covers. Out of the 50+ flushable covers, I extract one ever so carefully and place it gingerly on the bowl. But I am still left with the dilemma of what do I do with 49+ toilet bowl seat covers?

I thought about flushing them down the toilet but could see the ending to that horror movie immediately. I mean one is flushable but 49+?? I just stuffed them in the feminine box thingy hanging precariously from the wall and called it a day.

*Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand scene*

What would Emily Post say?

I consider myself to be pretty open and funny. I'll either say the first thing that comes to my mind and it is usually deemed inappropriate or I'm the person laughing at the person who just said the inappropriate thing.

So I'm at a baby shower on Sunday. And let's just get this out of the way, baby showers in general are pretty painful. I mean yes, you get together and celebrate the birth of a new baby and all that jazz. And it is nice to see the parents all happy and glow-y. But guys,come on. It's brutal. At least there was booze and some delish food.

Anyway so the shower was held for the wife of a kid I grew up with. Granted this kid used to throw acorns at me and held myself and his sister hostage in her room with a BB Gun, but he turned out to be a good kid and I have no doubt that he'll be a good father. Also in attendance were a bunch of other people I had grown up with.

I'm sitting in the living room enjoying some meatballs and making idle chit-chat with three girls. One of the girls is the girlfriend of one of my neighbors and the other two girls are his sisters. You know it's kind of one of those things where you really only see each other for holidays and the conversation can be kind of awkward and you have to think quickly of questions to ask. Add to that, the fact that each of these three women have children who are rolling around and attempting to draw on themselves and the couch.

I shifted a meatball on my plate and turned to the two girls on the couch and asked them how their significant others were doing.

"Oh good. Yup."
"Yeah he's doing great....."

I nodded politely, "Good. Good." (*note: No question back asking if I was seeing anyone or dating anyone.)

Then the other girl sitting next to me squares to me and bellows, "YUP! AND MY COUCH IS DOING JUST FINE!!!"

*crickets*

I'm not entirely sure what the point of her statement was. To make me look like an idiot for asking how their guys are doing and not directing my question to her as well? I mean, she and I aren't close. We don't talk about these things. Like I said I only see her for holidays so how am I to know if she's dating someone. The last I heard she was single. Am I supposed to feel bad that she is single? Because I mean honey, get in line. And what if I had directed my question to her? Then I feel like an clown for assuming that she is dating someone when in fact she is not.

So I just kind of smiled at her, gave her a pat on the leg and said, "You're such a clown..."

Holding myself back like whoah.

So working for The Spoil has its advantages. One of them is the bi-annual Marc Jacobs employee sale we get to take part in. Since The Spoil and MJ are owned by the same luxury goods brand we get to dip into their sand box.

For a hardcore, almost not normal shopper like myself, this is fabU news.

News of the employee sale started to circulate a couple of weeks ago and naturally everyone here at work was in an uber tizzy. I mean...purses for 75% off?? Like The Donna always says, "It's such a shaaaame to leave them there!" Words to live by. (I mean guys come on. My mom shopped so much when we were kids that I knew the names of the malls before I could walk.)

So as I'm tooling around the veeeeeeeeeeeery slooooooooooooooooooooow site yesterday, sweating and shaking from excitement, I see the purse I want:

(Cue angel music "aaaaaaAAAAaaah..." )

The Blake in Kelly Green.

I mean..."Hello loverrrrr..."

It's gorgeous. But alas...my heart belongs to another lover: The Large Gucci Horsebit bag in magenta.

So I was thinking of waiting until the last day of the sale and if I don't have a lead on the Gucci bag then I'll purchase the Blake if the color I want is still in stock.

There must be a string of full moons because I've been showing an awful lot of self restraint these days.........Not at all part of my character and I'm not entirely sure why it's happening.

What's next? I turn into a morning person and start getting up at 6am?

Ok fine...I didn't show THAT much self restraint..I did get the zip clutch in Canary. It's just too ja'dorable to leave there!!! But that's it!

Lips I'd like to strangle.

God I am so effing sick of this Hinder song. I realize that I listen to Top 40 stations so I'm bound to hear it every twenty minutes but like...*gah*!! I've decided to break it down.

And coming down the pipe in 5...4...3...2...1...And now the world premier of Lisa Gradie's break down of Hinder's "Lips of an Angel."

Honey why you calling me so late
It's kinda hard to talk right now
Honey why you crying is everything okay?
I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud

Well well well! Someone's getting freaky deaky with a dirty mistress! You know he's the one cheating too. But like he picks up the phone all, "DOOD why are you calling me so late?! I'm kiiiinda in the middle of something. Ah Christ don't cry...I'm sorry...." Try for the softer approach next time you have an affair Mr. Hinder Lead Singer.

Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on

Does the dirty mistress know that he has a live in girlfriend? I mean obviously she knows that she is indeed the other woman so like why call his home? Most people meet at motels. (Didn't Julie Cooper teach anyone ANYTHING?!?!!?) Clearly the dirty mistress is asking to get caught. Oooh will there be a cat fight complete with extensions flying about? Oh and sidebar: Sometimes I wish she was you?? Haaaaaaaaaaaaaarsh....

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

What angel are we talking about here??

Erm...or....

No lips like todaaaaaaaaaaaaays!!!

He doesn't have the teeth of an angel though....

And what bothers me about this song is that you don't understand why he just won't leave his current ho and go for the dirty mistress. I mean is the current ho preggers? Is she like really wealthy and is bank rolling Hinder's World Tour? There's no explanation. Damnit I want answers as to why!!

But there's no time for answers...ON WARD!!!

It's funny that you're calling me tonight
And yes I dreamt of you too
And does he know you're talking to me
Will it start a fight
No I don't think she has a clue

Oh yeah...it's funny...reeeeeeal HIL-ARRRR!!! I'm laughing so hard I have a stitch. If I can just say, has anyone seen this video? Like it's this greasy dude talking into the phone (who I, of course, think is like so hot...love me a dirty rocker guy) and he's like singing this song into the phone while his blond girlfriend who has "no clue" sits on the bed lotioning her legs.

So in this portion of the song we realize that the dirty mistress (who is played in the video by Emmanuelle Chriqui AKA Sloane on Entourage) in fact has a boyfriend. Dirty Rocker Lead Singer of Hinder guy asks her, "Will it start a fight?"

Um...nah...!

No he'll just sit back, maybe spark up a doobie and say "Whatever Broseph...take her. I mean I was kinda getting bored with her anyway. Hey wanna switch?"

*Repeat chorus and insert my wise ass lines with it*

And apparently Hinder could only come up with a song that would have two verses because they repeat the chorus again...and again...ground breaking stuff I tell you. We never do find out what happens with the star crossed lovers.

Lyrics courtesy of www.lyrics.com

**Update: I realize now that not everyone may have heard of this song. This is me assuming that everyone listens to bad music like me. So here's the link to a video of them performing it. Damn YouTube! I couldn't find the actual music vid...

Enjoy barfing!

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