Your Girlfriend is Ugly

It can't come sooner.

In T-minus 5 hours and 43 minutes it will officially be 5 o'clock p.m. and I will officially be on vacation. (Don't worry. I'll have internet access. I will be blogging. :)

It can't come sooner. I'm at the point right now with my job that I would rather eat beets and be seen wearing tapered jeans than come into work.

I haven't had a vacation since March of 2006. Oh sure I've had days off here and there. I've taken long weekends and two days off in a row but nothing extended. I can't wait to be on vacation. Sweet relief

And isn't it so funny that right before you're about to go on vacation something shit stormy always happens to put you, in like, the WORST mood. I work with a lot of people who are under the impression that they are better than everyone else. They believe that their prep-school, Upper East Side upbringing allows them to 1.) talk shit about everyone and 2.) treat you as if you were the dirt on the gum that is stuck to their last season Gucci pumps.

And of course it's got to be someone that I just really can't stand. Plus I'm not very good at hiding my dislike for people to begin with. Frankly, everyone to me is an ass until proven otherwise. (It really is the only way to roll....trust me.) 

Anyway. It just blew my mind and I had to vent. Naturally this person would start crap with me the day of my vacation. It never fails.

I will close with my inner chant:

This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach. This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach. This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach. This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach....

Things to NOT do in your apartment during a heat wave.

Boston is currently in the middle of a heat wave. It's 95 degrees today, it was in the 90's on Tuesday and it was in the 90's on Monday. Three days in a row and you have yourself some frizzy hair and severe swamp-thass (that's thigh/ass).

It's not so bad during the day since I'm locked at work with what is definitely a poor excuse for air conditioning. The only time it's a real kick in the head is when I walk to ABP or get in my car at the end of the day. My car that has no tint on the windows and all black seats and dashboard. It feels like the personal bed chamber of Lucifer when you sit behind the wheel.

Obviously dressing for this type of weather is a lot better since it basically calls for no clothing and flip flops. But even with a flowy skirt and a tank, walking to the bathroom puts my sweat glands in overdrive.

It was especially swampy in my apartment last night. All I have to say is thank GOD for 1.) living across the street from the beach and 2.) having a deck. You see, I was able to bring the ACs up from the basement but putting them in was another story. Never in my lifetime would I be able to put in an air conditioner. They're too heavy and clunky. (Secretly this is why I'm on match.com, to find a guy who can do all of the heavy lifting.)

In any case, here are some cautionary tales. Things to NOT do when you're apartment feels like one gigantic Amazon Rain Foreset, minus the cute animals and surprise thunder storms.

Order out:

This may sound like a common sense caution but when I get it in my head that I want to cook something there's no stopping me. On Monday I had the brilliant idea to make some roasted chic peas. It's not important why I wanted to make them, what's important was that I actually did. It called for no water and to just roast them dry, but I think some droplets of sweat from my brow may have escaped into the frying pan. This isn't the first time I've done this either. Back when we lived on G Street it was seriously over 100 degrees out and it was around 8p.m. I decided to make veggie lasagna. You know it's not a good thing when you have to shower after you make dinner.

Don't break anything:

Last night I was sitting in our slightly cooler living room hanging out as Larry read the Condiment Beef blog. I plopped down on the club chair, scooted it forward a little bit and then went to recline. I was met with a resounding "CRASH/SMASH/TINK/BINK" (that's the breaking glass sound in case anyone was confused). I hadn't moved the chair far enough away from the window sill and in response two really cute decorative, absolutely no use, plates fell to the floor and shattered into about 25 zillion pieces.

Larry and I stared at the carnage for a second and then she went and got the broom and dust pan for me. After all was said and done; after I swept up the glass, then busted out the vacuum, I had rivulets of sweat pouring down my face. My tank top was drenched. I imagine that this is what people who work out really hard feel like after a good go at the gym.

There was no where to go for comfort. No AC and the fans were useless so I sat out on the porch for about twenty minutes and listened to the sound of my upstairs neighbor tap on his bongos while, what I'm sure was a joint, hung from his mouth.

Use spray air-freshener, it's cooler:

You all know that I'm a fan of ambiance. I like low lighting and lots of candles. I came home the other day after wading through the swampy outsides and lit the Vanilla Cupcake candle from Yankee Candle. I did it, then walked down the hallway, stopped midway to the kitchen then said out loud, "Lisa. What are you doing?" Then walked back and blew out the candle. I think I'll cough up the $12.00 and buy those oil sticks.

Leave the manicures to the professionals:

Also last night I decided to do my nails at around 10:30.

I chose Chanel Noir Ceramic because I read that dark nails with a tan is hot (natch). I slathered on the polish which was like molasses going on (this should have been the first indicator that things were not going to go well) and with no air circulating and my door closed I waited for the polish to dry.

It was so still and hot you could hear dust falling to the carpet.

That's when I had the brilliant idea to grab the fan and put it in my room (dir). In the kitchen I passed my air conditioner sitting on the floor mocking me; pointing and laughing at me. I gave it a little kick and then hoofed it back to my room to plug in said fan.

Yeah. The hot air that the fan was blowing back in my face did nothing to a.) cool me down or b.) dry my nails which were, at this point, melting off.

This is when LK called. She was responding to the text I sent her that said "SWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMP!!"

"Hey."

"mer."

"Do you want to come over? I have AC?"

"merrrr it's fine." I was so hot I couldn't talk

"I feel bad. I don't know why I didn't offer before!"

"That's because you're a bitch."

"I mean I know but..."

The offer was sweet but the thought of putting pants on and driving to Brighton just made me feel unwell. I hung up with LK and sat in my bed, marinating in my own heat.

That's when I realized that in this lifetime these nails weren't drying and ten minutes after I had applied the final top coat, I grabbed the remover and began to go to town.

I'm not sure what it is about sticky nail polish but it has a way of getting ALL OVER YOU. I had to use two cotton pads drenched in remover on EACH nail. And because of the heat and humidity the polish was turning into little balls which stuck to my thighs. By the time I was done attempting to get all of the nail polish off it, I looked like I had covered myself in tribal war paint. I had Chanel Noir Ceramic on my legs, my knees, my fingers, my hands my neck and my chest. It's amazing anything was on the cotton pad! Miraculously nothing was on my white duvet cover. How I pulled that off I have no idea.

**Just an update for all those interested**

Shana and I installed our ACs this morning at 8:00 (before I was able to get a coffee mind you). At least I wasn't dripping sweat as I put my mascara on.

Word jumble in my brain.

I was trying to decide what I would blog about after the big YGIU.com birthday bash. I mean the party was so fun how do you come back from that?

I got my answer last night as I was on the phone talking to Larry. I was in the process of roasting some chic peas (quite nice actually, just drain them from the can, dry them, add some salt & pepper and saute them in a pan. No oil. Just the chic peas in the raw.) when Larry called and asked if anyone wanted to meet her at South Shore Plaza for dinner.

I was in no form to pimp over to Braintree so I declined, wished her well with her dinner and wrapped up the conversation:

Larry - "Ok Lees. Well I'll see you at home."

Me - "Ok. Bye bay-"

Bye bay? What I meant to say was "Bye babe."

That happens to me ALL. THE. TIME.

(Or I'll be talking and I'll just stop mid-sentence because I totally lost my train of thought. This happened to me twice last week. I'm praying it's just because the caffeine conked out and not because I have early onset Alzheimer's.)

I always try to say two things at once and it almost always ends up coming out like "Meereaaaaairsthanks..."

This actually happened to me a few weeks ago. I was in the elevator of my work headed to the 5th floor. There was another woman in the elevator with me. She was on her way to the 8th floor. The ride from floor 1 to floor 5 is not a long one but during our time together me and the woman engaged in conversation about my purse. She liked it. And I beamed because I got it for $50 and it looked like it was about $320.

The doors opened, inviting me to start my day at work on the 5th floor. I went to step out and had every intention of saying "Have a  nice day," instead I said something more like, "Have mice September beryarrrrr."

It was so incoherent that I actually stopped short and glanced sideways at the woman. She was staring at me with a look of "Ooookay yeah..."

I scuttled out of the elevator and replayed the whole beastly incident in my head. Even though this person was a stranger and I wouldn't remember her face if she fell over me I still felt queer. And like I was a person who forgot to taker her meds.

I attribute my word mashing to the fact that I used to have a stutter as a small child and it still creeps up on me from time to time. There will be times when I'm in meetings and will be so animated that I'll be like "Bu-b-b-b-...........(pause pause pause while I try to work it out)....*BUT* I think we should use this tube!!!"

And still it happens today. I'll be thinking so fast in my brain that I'll go to say something like "Thanks for coming," and it comes out something like, "Mer Mer merrrrr.....Baked Bear!!!"

YGIU.com's 1st Birthday Party Recap!

Two words: TOTAL SUCCESS!

I want to thank everyone who came out to celebrate the 1st birthday of my blog. It was definitely a success and I think everyone had an awesome time.

I obviously want to thank the people of Murphy's Law for letting us take over and get clowny with ourselves. The owner Peggy was more than accomidating and our bartender Tracy made some mean Buttery Nipple Shots. The four that I had went down preeeeeetty smoothe. :)

Those who were fabulous and in attendance on Saturday:

• Zing all the way from Baltimore to celebrate the 1st birthday.
• Brennon, the crazy mofo whom I haven't seen in oooooh about 5 years!
• Brian Piccini, owner of Dbar in Dorchester. You guys have to check it out.
• The Donna and The Esteban Gradie. Love that they came! Best parents ever.
• Our adopted Aunt Barbie. She likes to throw it down with a few glasses of Chardonnay when she's not driving. That's why we love her :)
• JSutt; Cheif Designer of Yourgirlfriendisugly.com and her wicked fun crew who were all mad cool and knew how to party.
• Jenski Hill and Daveski her tall boyfriend.
• J. Grondin, L. Casey and Maria (sorry girlfriend I don't know your last name). Totes fun and all cheese lovers!
• Ulana and Mike. Sans cousin from the Ukraine but fun non-the-less. And Ulana is like one of my biggest fans.
• HLP and Fernando. Did he know why he was there Rose :)
• Slut and her cuz Rachel.
• Tina Hayes. My dad was like OBSESSED with the fact that you were there. He was so pumped to see you!
• LK and her bro PK who I finally got to meet after like YEARS of him getting hyped up. I mean he was OK. He was KINDA fun...ya know :)
• Baboo who was awesome and totally worked the crowd and was a riot.
• And of course my biggest fan and totally helpful party planner, my fabulous big sister Shana.

There were more people who came and celebrated too. Sorry if I didn't get to you or give you a shout out but I just spent like three hours putting captions on all of the pics so I'm getting kind of cramped in my fingers.

Oh! And the pictures are up! They are all the way to the left on the bottom.

Again, thanks to everyone who came and thanks to everyone who brought me gifts! That was so not necessary but oh so appreciated.

I really hope to make something out of this blog and for all of you who were reading from the beginning it means a lot. And I hope you're all around for the second birthday!!

xoxoxo

Lisa

YGIU.com's 1st birthday recap coming soon to a computer near you.

Well for all of you who came and partied last night for the first birthday party of yourgirlfriendisugly.com I thank you. It was a fantastic party with plenty of buttery nipple shots to go around. I laughed so much that I now have a 6 pack and the hot husky voice of Lauren Bacall.

For those of you who missed it,? All I can say is "where were you?" 

Recap, photo albums and shout outs coming sooooooon! Keep yourself and your ugly girlfriend close to the computer. You definitely don't want to miss a hot minute of this trip down Clown Town Lane.

xoxo

YGIU.com's First Bday Party!!

By now I hope everyone is up to speed with the shin dig (that looks weird....is that how you spell shin dig????) that will be going down this coming Saturday the 23rd.

My blog (the one you're reading right now....dir) is turning one year old and being the Fun Merchant that I am, I'm having a party to celebrate this milestone. I've sent out evites, inviting emails, text messages. I've done everything short of sending smoke signals and personal carrier pigeons.

Soooo if you like what you read, or if you don't like what you read but you like me. Or if you don't even like me (umm...*psha*) but just like to drink and hang out at Southie dive bars, you should make a point to come play with us!!!

Once again, for the people in the back!!!

Where: Murphy's Law, the premier dive bar of South Boston. And also one of the locations to be featured in Ben Affleck's new flick Gone Baby Gone.

When: This Saturday the 23rd. Start time is 8:30pm

Other deets to be privy to:

• It's cash only
• Wear jeans and flips. Anything thing else is considered dressy and you'll get weird looks
• The Donna is bringing her famous cheese ball

I'm getting a lot of people asking me if they can bring this person or that person. Bring whoever you want. Bring your mom and dad (mine are coming!). Bring your cousin from the Ukraine. Bring your coworkers. Bring your boyfriend, your fuck buddy, your mistress. Bring your boss.

Open invite. I mean....it would be great if they read the blog, but if not this will be sure to get them hooked.

Hope to see you there! We're totally going to party like the kids in Don't Tell Mom the Baby Sitter's Dead!!

Bills, bills, bills. And a side of hot text.

I'm a night owl. So it's pretty typical for me to get a surge of energy around 11pm. Unless I've worked out and then I'm horizontally passed out by 9:30pm. But since I've been going to bed late a lot recently you can guess my work out habits.

So last night was no different. My sister and I hunkered down to watch Season 2, Disc 1 of Rescue Me. And we finished the entire Disc around 12:15a.m. This is when my sister passes out and I start to roam the halls of our apartment.

I hang out in my room, put on face cream, put away some laundry before I get bored. Maybe do my nails. But I almost always decide to whip out my check book, stamps (.39cent AND .02 cent) and pay bills. I do this because when I'm done, the measly amount is enough to give me cardiac arrest and put me into a coma, ergo resulting in a night of uninterrupted sleep.

So last night I decided to do just that. Pay bills.

I bypassed my Amex. They give me at least a 10 day grace period. And frankly looking at the amount makes my eyes bug out of my head.

Moving right along to GAP. This bill was due today. Ooops.

Nstar. Keyspan. Verizon. Comcast. Nordstrom (I'm almost done paying this guy off! woohoo). Then I come to my Sprint cell phone bill, which I usually pay online, but I decided to go the traditional route.

I glanced at the amount and, CHRIST ON YOUR MOM!!! The amount was almost double what my bill usually is. I opened it up expecting to see the regular $65 and I was met with an AMOUNT DUE of $112. I have like 304502458234890235703453904539457 anytime/anywhere/in the house/on the porch/going shopping/buying a rack of lamb/up down all around minutes so I couldn't really figure out why the amount was so much.

I decided to do some investigating.

I came to the page where my downloaded cell phone rings were. Ok. $2.50 each for downloading Umbrella and Lip Gloss. Not breaking the bank. Everything else looked standard. Just the odd $1.49 charge for a 411 call but that's about it.

Then I came to the page for the text messaging. I used to have unlimited text messaging but that was costing me an arm and a leg. So I decided to change it to 500 per month. I mean, that seemed reasonable. Who texts that much?

UMMMMMMMMMMMMM.....apparently I do because I used all 500 of my text messages and an additional 247. Do the math. that's 747 text messages!

I really only have one question: How do I still have thumbs?

It gets worse. I have 1,000 any time minutes and I only used 322 of those minutes. So basically, I would rather sit there and type on little tiny keys (NOT using T9 mind you. I hate T9!!) than call someone and burn a calorie talking to them.

Can someone figure this out for me? I was never good at word problems.

Say the average text message takes like 60 seconds to compose. You get one back, that takes like 30 seconds to read. How long am I on text messaging for during the day?

I'm going to start using smoke signals. Or carrier pidgeons.

I'll be honest. I'm not entirely sure what happened with this one.

I went on a date with this one guy a couple of weeks ago and as of now it has not yielded a response. Hence why I'm sharing said experience with you all. I don't blog about the good dates, only the bad ones or the awkward experiences that come from so called "good" dates. Why? Because the bad ones are always so much more entertaining.

So I meet up with this guy for drinks. (sidebar: establishing a date as "meeting up for drinks" is perfect because it is a good way to gauge how the date is going. If you meet up for drinks and you end the date at just a drink then you know that either you're not interested or he's not interested. But if you meet up for drinks and drinks turn into dinner and dinner turns into coffee or dessert or a walk around after then you know the date is going somewhere. This is crucial information for later in my story.) We meet at a local bar in South Boston and our conversation is good. It's a little slow at first but once I down my first Gin & Tonic and the Red Sox come on, it's fine.

He suggests we grab something to eat. Ok.

We then begin the obligatory "So....Uuuuhhh (insert awkward coughing and shifting in chair) what other experiences have you had with meeting people from online?"

I tell him my story about the guy who said I wasn't funny. Then he told a story about how he had sex with the very first person he ever met online on their first date and how she turned out to be crazy because she bought him jeans the next day. Or something like that.

I was a little taken aback by him telling me that, but actually thought it was kind of funny. And the two glasses of Riesling and two Gin & Tonics and four pieces of lettuce I had DEFINITELY thought it was funny. So I busted out laughing and started pointing and waving my finger back and forth between the two of us and said, "Jusssshh scho you know....that....(pause, pause, point, point) is not happening tonight my friend."

It was supposed to be funny.

The date progresses. We talk about family and we both think it is oh so interesting how our parents are both still married and then he told me a really long story about a road trip he took through Nebraska with his little brother. His stories were peppered with lots of drunken shenanigans but I liked talking to him and thought it was funny.

It was about 9pm. I was tipsy enough that I wasn't falling off of the bar stool but I was kind of talking in circles and using my hands a lot. Somehow the topic of coffee came up and Date goes, "We should get coffee."

I looked at him and said, "When?"

"Um. How about now?"

I wondered to myself if he was trying to sober me up because he thought I was bombed. He must have noticed the look of "WTF" on my face because he said, "Don't get me wrong, I'm having a really good time, I just can't drink alcohol anymore." And gave me a look as if to say "Ya know what I mean??"

Tooootally.  Plus I never turn down coffee.

"Ok," I said. "There really isn't anywhere around here to go and get coffee though. Like there isn't a Starbucks or anything....buuuuuuuut....there is a 7-Eleven across the street."

He laughed, paid the bill and we were on our way.

We walked into 7-Eleven and I was immediately met by my friends. You see, I'm sort of a legend at the 7-Eleven in Southie on East Broadway. Abu, the guy who's the franchisee and his wife Perun are like the ONLY people I'm nice to in the morning when I get my coffee. My sister can attest to this. So we entered the doors and were met with a chorus of "Helloooo Lisa!!!"

"Hey guys! Hey Abu! How's it going Perun? When is the baby due??"

"Ooooh not for another four months."

"Well ya look great!"

I shimmied Date over to the iced coffee battalion and then schooled him on the perfect ice to 7-Eleven Iced Coffee ratio to put in your 28oz cup. It was cute. I must say that I was very cute in this particular moment. I mean I was a little buzzed but it was all very endearing.

I paid for the coffee and then we headed down the street and started to walk around. We walked down L Street, down Columbia and back up K street. We came to the top of K street where I was parked (yes, by this time I was OK to drive) and said, "Ok well here's my car."

It's possible that this isn't true but I thought I saw a look of annoyance cross over his face. I mean, yeah we were having a good time but it was 10:30pm. I had been in the same clothes since 7:30am. What did he want to do walk around South Boston for the rest of the night? I had to go to bed. We both agreed that we had a good time and we both stated that we were both busy the upcoming weekend but we'd give each other a call.

Cool. I waited for the normal next day "I had a good time" email which I always get because I always give a good time on a first date. It never came.

I have to say that this was the first date in a long time that I left thinking, "Hmm...that went well. I'm actually looking forward to a second date."

I go into blind dates not expecting a whole helluva a lot. You could say there's been a rough patch. There was the guy who didn't think I was funny. The guy who decided not to see me any more over email. The gay school teacher who recited show tunes throughout our sushi date.

But I persevere because, well, why not?

So I never heard anything from this guy and the following Monday (we met on the Tuesday before) I shot him an email asking how his weekend was and did he catch any live ones? (He went fishing with the family. Cute right?) I get this ghetto ass email back the next day saying, "Weekend was good. Caught some fish. How was your weekend?"

I read said ghetto email and thought how, once again, I wasted my time having drinks with some guy when I could have been having a much better time with myself watching the premier of So You Think You Can Dance?

It blows my mind. It really does. Unless this kid was a player and had like four dates to get to after me, it really doesn't make a lot of sense. I've been doing the dating thing for a while now. This was text book. Hell if Jack Bauer were here he'd have taken notes and then run a CTU Sting Operation using the sheer precision of the date as guidelines.

Random Ramblings to soothe the Monday induced ADD.

So much for not blogging at work.

I'm freaked out. My best friend from college just sent me an email with an image of a clown in it. Apparently the accompanying article was a knee slapper but I didn't get to the article. I was too busy trying to shield my eyes and find the X to click out of the window. I reminded her that clowns freak me out and her response was, "But the article was kinda funny."

This is a girl who is deathly afraid of dogs and like freaks out when a pooch the size of a tic-tac comes near her. She's coming for the weekend. I should probably cancel the Rottweilers. I mean, right?

So now I'm sitting at my desk, marinating in my own sweat because I'm really hot and the time has been 4:50pm for the past like five minutes. The only thing I can really focus on is the glass of wine I will shotgun when I get home. Doing work is virtually impossible because the owners the of the Drydock have decided that number 25 needs a face lift. The scaffolding they put up looks like it was last used to build the George Washington bridge and there are guys in hard hats swinging around on the bars, sans harness, whistling at people and ripping butts (**hip new term for smoking**).

It's actually giving me a lot of anxiety. Especially when I try to eat my salad at my desk and they stare at me while doing so.

Having trapeze artists outside of your window also makes it awkward when I'm trying to shop for boys (i.e: cruise the online dating sites to see what residents of clown town have moved into the neighborhood). I have been emailing back and forth with this one guy for about two weeks now. And I just reread his profile and he's like really into working out. Like he works out about 3-5 times a week. And he's looking for someone with the same habits.

Why he emailed me I have no idea. I'm lucky if I get out there and walk around Castle Island twice in one week. And if I happen to do some free weights? *psha* Then I am of the mindset that I just ran a marathon and I can go a little easy with the working out for a while. He asked to hang out and I'm thinking of replying back with, "Just so you know, I canceled my gym membership. Is that a deal breaker?"

While shopping today, I came across this guy:

He either really hates his friends or just doesn't know how to crop himself out and only knows how to crop little white box faces. I've actually been seeing the white box face epidemic a lot recently. And by a lot I mean I really need to wrap up this whole online dating thing because yesterday when I was home for Father's Day watching the Red Sox with the family, a commercial for that new show Sox Appeal on NESN came on and my mother whipped her head around and barked at me, "Leeeee-SAH! Why ahn't you on that?!"

Clearly my mother is not hip to the "camera adds ten pounds" way of thinking.

"Um. Because."

"Leeee-SAH! You need to send an audition tape in!"

"Mom. I'm all set."

"Does it cost money? I'll pay for it."

"Mom-"

"Hey, you'd get to go to the Sox game and sit in the monster seats!" That was my dad's contribution to the conversation.

I'm all set. I'd rather wait online at the box office in the sweltering heat than have a first date video taped. Even though I'm a good first date. I always kill it on the first date.

Condiment beef.

I've known that I've had beef with a lot of condiments for a while now. But my hatred towards choice spreads and what not really reared it's ugly head when I was in a meeting earlier this week. I got all fired up when the lovely spread of deli meats and cheeses was placed out and then next to them were about three sides of mustard and a side of mayo and really gross smelling salad dressing. I didn't make a stink about it. In my own home I'll moan and groan about the stench but not at work. It's not my style. But I was having a hard time concentrating as all of the smells wafted together to form a sort of dead person smell (not that I know what that smell is like but I can only imagine).

I'm not a picky eater. I like pretty much everything with the exception of beets and creamed corn. But for as long as I can remember I've always taken issue with mustard. I just don't understand why people love it. I personally just think it reeks and it tastes like you're eating....well.....something really gross. Doesn't matter which variety either. Spicy. Yellow. Honey. They're all sick. Then there's relish. Or "piccalilli" as my Italian grandmother used to call it. I mean, Yum! Let's chop up some pickles, stick them in vinegar, let them ferment and then smear them all over my Oscar Mayer Weiner. Heinous.

I like ketchup but don't even get me started on people that mix all of these condiments together. It's just not right. Not right at all. And the folks who put ketchup on pizza and steak?! Mother to Jesus that is such a crime!

Regarding Mayo: I enjoy mayo at my own discretion. Like if I'm making tuna I literally take a tablespoon and then just douse the concoction with garlic powder. But to take mayo and actually put it on a piece of bread with like, other deli meats? Oh hein. I actually got into a raging fight with Larry regarding mayonnaise. I'm not kidding. We didn't talk for a week after the fight. It nearly ended our friendship. True story.

Recently a friend asked me what I put on my sandwiches (since, you know, I hate everything) and when I told her nothing she nearly fell out of her chair. I laughed as I watched the spicy mustard ooze from her pita pocket.

I have a particular aversion to many salad dressing as well, especially anything with vinegar. Let's talk balsamic for a second. I mean, am I the only person out there who thinks it smells like feet, ass and cheese (which I do like) all in one???  I understand that it's one of the better, healthier dressings, to eat if you're going to eat dressing, and it's possible that I might like it, but truthfully, I can't get past the smell. Shana and Larry always have their little vinegar parties at the apartment. They'll heat up veggies and dip them in balsamic. They'll cook up pizza and drizzle balsamic on it. I can smell it coming from a mile away. And I'm not going to lie I like flip out. I just can't stand the smell.

And the dressing of choice for most restaurants is balsamic. You go into a nice place they are serving duck with a side of some sort of deliciousness and what is it marinated in? Balsamic. Is it really cheap or something? Was there a sale going on at BJ's?

What happened to good old Fat Free Italian? Wish Bone anyone? Holla back at me Kent's Steakhouse.

I think my vinegar vice stems from my mother always cleaning our coffee pot. Apparently to clean a coffee pot you put like an entire bottle of vinegar and run it through. I always remember The Donna doing it and I always remember wanting to toss my cookies behind the magnolia tree on the side of our house. I would say to her, "Mommy, that smell is really yucky and it gives me a headache." 

But aaah, she didn't care so much.