Your Girlfriend is Ugly

Batting a thousand in the Flakiest Girl World Series

Hokey. So. Last week I mailed my credit report. This week I did severe harm to my phone.

This morning I was a bit out of sorts. Which isn't really an excuse because I'm out of sorts every morning. But this morning my sorts were particularly out of it because I had to get ready for a date after work and pack a gym bag and it was cold and I had decided at the last minute to wear my new super high metallic silver pumps and I was just a mess. I can't even believe I didn't strangle myself with my toothbrush.

Finally, after texting my boss that I was running 15 minutes late I put on my winter jacket (???), grabbed all of my things and teetered my way down the stairs and out the door. Well wouldn't you know it when I landed out in the fresh air it was like 65 degrees. No winter coat needed. A light pashmina, mmmmaybe, but a heavy cashmere coat, no.

So I emptied the contents of my coat pockets, keys and cell phone, threw my coat in the back seat and peeled off to work. I had just gone through the rotary in South Boston that connects Southie to the projects and was jamming out to the new Baby Bash, when I went to look for my phone.

It wasn't there.

Su-surely I didn't leave my phone on the trunk of my car and drive off with it. Surely it's somewhere around my car. While waiting in traffic at the light I called it with my ghetto-er than ghetto work mobile. Nothing.

MERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR...........!!! I LEFT MY PHONE ON THE TRUNK OF MY CAR THEN DROVE AWAY!!!

I pulled a hard u-turn (which in retrospect probably wasn't the best idea. Had my phone still been clinging for dear life to the trunk of my car it wouldn't have had a prayer after that move) threw on my hazards and walked around the area where the Rollerskate was idling. Nothing. No cute light pink phone to speak of.

I called my sister and started to cry.

"I mean (sob, sob) what am I going to do? (sob sob) Walk around the ghetto? I'M IN HEELS!!!"

"Lisa, why don't you go home, change into sweat pants and walk around until you find your phone."

" Waaaaaaaahhhhokaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!"

Home I went. I thew on a pair of white and black sweat pants, a super long grey t-shirt that came down to my knees and a kelly green Nantucket sweatshirt. Along with my Chanel sunglasses and Starbucks travel mug I looked like I could either be a yuppie Southie housewife or a resident of the Marine Road projects. Debatable.

I walked up Columbia road, took a left onto Marine Road and kept on walking. In between sips of my coffee I called my missing phone with my work mobile. I don't know what I was listening for. Did I really think I'd be able to hear my Von Bondies "C'mon, C'mon" ringer while walking in the middle of the road?

I approached the light where Old Harbor Street crosses Marine Road. I looked to my left and there, in the middle of the street was my phone. I ran into the road (on coming traffic be damned) and scooped it up like a baby bird that had just fallen from the nest. I sat down on the curb to assess the damage.

Well it was definitely cellular phone road kill. It can still open and close but it's missing some little hinge parts, not to mention the actual battery for the phone.

It is currently resting peacefully in a plastic zip lock bag inside of my Louis Vuitton speedy bag. I don't think it felt any pain.

I mean this had to happen right? There's no way I could get away scott free with two flakey episodes in back to back weeks. I'm nervous about next week. All I know is that I'm not leaving the house without a straight jacket.

On Friday my personal phone will be back up and running. Until then you can reach me on the work mobile. If you need the number just holler at me.

The moral of this story is:

1.) check the weather before you leave the house to see if you need a coat so you avoid unnecessary cell phone pocket placement.

2.) I really need to get my shit together. Like my dad said when I told him, "Not smart Lisa. Not smart at all."

Monday's Random Ramblings

Champions do it with their Sox on

Usually I hate Mondays. HOWEVA, this particular Monday is not too shabby. Why? Because on this morning when I peeled myself out of my bed at 7:15a.m. The Red Sox were World Series Champions.

OMGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HOLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HEEEEELLL YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

It's good to be a sports fan in Boston. Varitek and his thighs came through and swept the rubble formerly known as the Colorado Rockies under a thread bare carpet, and not a half hour before the start of Game 4, the Patriots positively tomahawked the Redskins in a 52-7 blowout. I'm pretty much drooling just thinking about it.

The fact that the Red Sox won their second World Series in four years is amazing. But I'm not going to sugar coat it. I'm glad it's over. I don't know how many more 2 a.m.-er nights I could do. Or how many more Washington Apple shots I could stomach. Or how many passes by the L Street Tavern doorman I could laugh off. (Although he is a nice guy.) I'm just happy that I didn't have to wait 86 years to see another World Series.

Dead Sexy

Well as you all know from my awkward gym story I posted last week, I joined the BSC in the South End across from our new office. I started things off with a bang and went the next morning to work my muscles.

As I was getting in my car, preparing to head to another day of work, I happened to glance to my left and saw this atrocity:

No no. It's not a mirage. I mean unless Toyota Corollas are starting to sell their vehicles like that, someone actually did that on purpose. I mean, I've heard of vanity plates, but vanity door handles? Honestly...

Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris has some sort of cult following. Everywhere I look there are hipster kids, nerds, accountants and your mom making funny cracks about Chuck Norris. I mean I really don't get it and his beard makes me nervous but whatever. Everyone has their thing. My thing is coffee. I understand. But were you aware that Chuck Norris and all of his Chuck Norrisness has gone International.

Last week I was sitting in the office I share with LK. She was out of town so I was pimping around like I owned the place. There were two Russian guys here that day helping to put up shelves that just happen to be located directly behind our office. I could hear everything the two guys were saying. I mean, granted it was ALL in Russian but I could hear noise.

I was working out some deadlines for Steiner when I hear this:

"speakingRussianspeakingRussiandadadaRussianRussianRussian CHUCK NORRISSSSS!!!"

Eruptions of laughter proceed the Chuck Norris outburst and I feel like I've just heard my college roommate having sex; you can't help but listen because they are right next to you so you sit there all awkward.

The Russian speaking continued. I continued to work out the deadlines for Steiner.

"RussianRussianRussianRussianRussiandadada....CHUCK NORRIS!"

It really was one of those times that you wish someone, anyone, even someone you don't like, was there to witness it with you. And whenever I retold that story someone always asked, "What do you think they were talking about?" Uuuhhhh...Kathy Bates..?

CHUCK NORRIS came in handy this past weekend. We would yell "GO RED SOX...CHUCK NORRISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!" Then we'd do our Papelbon bon bon bon bon bon bon dance. It's a pretty amazing dance btdubbs. Too bad you'll have to wait until next year to see it.

Flakier than a box of Total

I've never really been someone to pay my bills online. I know. You'd think that someone with my fabulous bangs and keen sense of purses and nail polish would be able to get her act together to engage in some electronic bill paying. But I still go the snail mail route. Meh. Just how I'm wired. I kind of find comfort in gathering up all of my bills, plopping down on my pillowy deliciousness of a bed and banging out checks while watching The Shield on Netflix.

So that's what I this past Sunday night. I had everything ready and raring to go. I stuffed my bills in my notebook and gathered everything up so I could mail them the next day.

Well Monday came and went. I'll remember to do it Tuesday.

Um. Tuesday went by like a flash. (Sidebar: this is important to the blog. So on Tuesday I ran my credit report. That like FICO thing that details your Social Security Number, every single credit card you've ever opened, where you've lived, etc. Yeah so I got that info, the G-damn thing was about as thick as the Kind James Bible, folded it up and shoved it onto my notebook.)

Wednesday rolled around and I finally remembered right when I got into the office to mail my bills. I quickly grabbed the stack that was inside of my notebook, walked through out new office past the quasi-cute/dirty/sexy ugly guy who was fixing our doors and outside to the mail box, opened the little door thing with a rickety creeeeeeeeeeeek and plopped my enormous mound of bills into the blue box abyss.

I headed back to my desk and saw that I had voicemails so I grabbed my notebook, which felt awkwardly light. My heart skipped a beat. I didn't remember taking my FICO thingy out of my notebook but....but...surely I didn't just put it in the mail box. Surely I didn't just toss a document that could get my identity stolen into a public mail box that was spitting distance from the Pine Street Inn.

Oh dear Lord. I think I just did.

Um. Ok. How does one handle this. I mean I had to call the post office but everything you read and hear about, the postal service workers aren't generally the most helpful folks out there. Disgruntled comes to mind.  But I decided to give it a whirl. I mean, dealing with supposedly unhelpful people is better than having your identity stolen.

After some research I found the number for the post office that picks up for that box. A woman answered who sounded like she'd been around the postal block.

I put on my best innocent girl voice, "Hi. I'm wondering if you can help me..." I proceeded to launch into a story about how I mailed something that I "reeeeeeeally shouldn't have" (understatement much???) and I need to get it out of that mail box in front of 477 Harrison Ave.

"Ok. I'm going to go find a supervisor to talk to you."

"Ok..."

I was surprisingly calm. I mean, my heart was skipping beats but I didn't break a sweat. Meh, I thought, this will make a good blog.

"Ok hun, we're a little short staffed right now so he's going to call you back."

"Ok," I breathed, "The next pickup is at 1pm. Do, um, do you need to know what I mailed by accident?"

"Sure. That would be helpful."

"My credit report. With everything on it. My social. My address. Everything."

"OH MY GOD. Ok well then I'll have it get back to you as soon as he can."

I hung up and stewed.

Maaaybe I did take it out of my notebook. I mean I don't remember doing that but I could have. I scanned my room inside of my head. I have a lot of "stuff" so the possibilities of where I place things randomly are endless. Controlled chaos comes to mind.

After emailing with Slut about it and her replying back "Oh that sucks. You could get your identity stolen and that's a headache you don't need," I decided to hop in my car and check at my apartment.

As I came down Savoy street there in front of me, like a beacon of light was a USPS truck. I pulled a hard left, swerved to miss a Pepsi truck and parked in the middle of the road (I had my hazards on).

I sprinted to the mailman. (And it has to be noted...I don't sprint.)

"OH SIR! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY I AM TO SEE YOU! YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW!!!" I huffed.

The short little mailman, 90 pounds soaking wet stood there staring at me clutching a heaping pile of mail.

"Do you pick up mail for this area???"

"No."

GAH. "Ok well I mailed something in that mail box over there that I REEEEEEEEEEEEALLY need to get out. CAN YOU HELP ME?????"

"Uh go wait by the mail box. I'll be right there. I kind of have to (he gestured to his arms full of envelopes) deliver these."

"Sure Sure! NO PROBLEM! OF COURSE!!!"

I clutched the side of the mail box and waited for him to come over.

Finally, after what seemed like days,he strolled down the sidewalk, clutching his mail box opener key. He unlocked the box without a word and right there on top of everything was my folded up FICO credit information.

I gasped, then reached into the open door and grabbed it like I was saving it from some burning inferno.

Then I started to cry.

"THANK YOU SO MUCH! OH MY GOD I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE IF I HADN'T SEEN YOU!"

"Uh huh. You're welcome."

And off strolled my silent hero. I never got his name but he saved me from one large headache, as Slut put it.

And all this before 10:30a.m.!!

Epilogue:

I have to make mention that the post office which I had called earlier did end up calling me back about twenty minutes after I had rescued myself. I thanked him endlessly for all of his help and for calling me back and informed him that I grabbed a mailman to help me.

"I just can't believe I did that!" I said into the phone.

"Yeah....(you could tell that he could totally believe that I did that **CRAZY**) Ok now have a good day."

How to be awkward when signing up at the gym.

So in case no one was up to speed, we moved offices and are no longer living in the Drydock. I know, it is sort of sad....soooooort of. The Spoil moved to the South End; where boys like boys and the trendiest of restaurants are only a stones throw away from the Pine Street Inn.

But seriously, I am sort of in love with our new office and it's location. So in love, in fact that I signed a two year contract at the Boston Sports Club across the street. Yay!! At my old gym I was paying pretty much a million dollars a month; basically I was grabbing my ankles and not even getting dinner first. So I quit there at the beginning of the summer with all intentions of working out in my neighborhood. Living a second from Castle Island I figured I could walk around while enjoying the scenery (i.e..the planes taking off from Logan). I did that a couple of times but then just got plain old "too busy".

But now I have no excuses. It's right across the street and basically everyone at the office signed up so peer pressure aside and not wanting to be the most non-ripped person in the office, I hoofed it over today at lunch with JSlutt, Mak and Jack to get this medicine ball rolling.

We strolled in, the four of us with our big sunglasses, designer purses and freshly glossed lips.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. We want, to like, SIGN UP!!"

The girl at the front, decked out in some fresh "ink" looked at us like a purple rhinoceros had just done a triple toe loop in front of her and then called over someone to help us.

Mark walked over and greeted us skeptically.

"Hi...?"

"Hi," I said all no nonsense, "We want to sign up and apparently you're the person who can help us."

"Ok. Follow me."

Jack and JSlutt were already members and just needed to transfer their memberships so they tooled around the grounds while Mak and I were taken in by Mark, the man with a plan.

Mark wasted no time before he pretty much bad mouthed every person who worked there. "Yeah and the general manager is from BEST BUY. I mean, nice buy but totally goes by the book....And that guy's a huge tattletale....And I'm just really glad to have cute girls here working out because there are so many gay dudes here. Cute girls are goooood."

Mak and I just kind of giggled demurely/awkwardly.

Mark started to run down the prices  when I shouted out, "Oh I know someone who goes here."

"Ok. Great. So that means that you are eligible for the Friends & Family rate.

**psha** Sweet.

"What's his name?"

"Brett."

"And what is Brett's last name?"

Now I do know Brett. Sort of.  He's the friend of my best friend LK and I'm sure he and I had done a few Jell-o shots together back in the day.  I had actually just seen Brett for a second on Saturday. We chatted about how I was going to join the BSC and he said, "cool, tell them you know me." And I'm almost sure that he told me his last name, but for the life of me, sitting in that cotton/poly blend chair staring at Mark's eager face, I couldn't remember Brett's last name. So I said:

"Michaels. His name is Brett Michael's..."

Why did that name sound SO familiar?

"You mean like the guy from Rock of Love?"

Fuck.

"Who?"

"You know...Rock of Love..." Mark proceeded to launch into the E! True Hollywood story of this person.

"Oh...hehe...what a coincidence!!!"

Thankfully he  signed Mak up first. I asked to Mark, "Sooooo when you sign us up do you have to put the member's name?"

Mark looked at me all serious like, "Oh yes. The computer won't let you proceed unless you put the name in. And I actually have to call the member and follow up."

Aaaah shit.

So while he hob-knobed with Mak, I texted LK and asked what Brett's last name was.

*bling* Campbell.

Well that definitely was NOT Michael's. And I couldn't really be like "Oh..heheeheheh...Mark...funny story actually....Um...my friend who I'm supposedly really good friends with...this is actually his real last name. Don't know HOW I could get that wrong...."

I'd look totally schizo.

 

I was in a pickle and saw no way out of this jam, so like any good crazy person, I made up some weird story about how Brett signed up under a different last name and oops...it's actually Campbell. (Brett if you're reading this....sorry.)

Mark really didn't even flinch. I think he just wanted the sale and pretty girls to look at while he held up the front desk.

And Lord knows I wanted that discount. Shameful, I know.

It's been a while

Peeps!!! It's been a while, I know. Stay tuned though because I have a pretty fantabulous (yeah...I just said fantabulous) blog coming your way. It involves the following:

• Jamaican Breezes (the drink, not an actual breeze from Jamaica)
• A Slut
• Really bad Pony tail hair
• A crazy drunken Yankee Fan
• Teddy Bears

Ok. Not really teddy bears but everything else.

I know I've been lax on the blog. My dad is all concerned that people are going to "lose interest" if I don't keep it up. I'm almost certain that you need a rather large following in order to lose any sort of interest  right? And it's not like I've just been sitting on my thumbs! I engaged in two separate visits with friends whom I hadn't seen in years, an office move and copious amounts of drunken falling down the rabbit hole shenanigans. (The last one I blame on the Red Sox and Jason Varitek's thighs).

Stay tuned for the bloggykins!!!

1st attempt at trying on wedding dresses: An MOH post

Big doings last weekend. Zing (THE Bride) came up for a whirlwind weekend and tried on dresses for the very first time! *GAH!!*

Obviously this is Zing's first engagement so she's never done the wedding dress thing before. Although she has a wedding binder that would put any wedding planner to shame. So Zing had an idea of the type of dress she wanted we just needed to start somewhere.

We decided to head to David's Bridal in Attleboro; on Route 1, down the street from the Emerald Square Mall (holler 8th grade!!) I mean..I know it's ghetto and next to a Newbury Comics but we had to start somewhere so we made an appointment.

Our bridal assistant, Evelyn (nice lady but awful, AWFUL, panty lines) grabbed a slew of dresses Zing had picked out and tucked us into a nice little corner.

In case anyone was wondering, I did not try on any MOH dresses. I was feeling puffy and my hair was dirty.

So, needless to say, Zing wasn't really feeling any of the dresses. I mean, not that I was all that surprised. But she tried on about eight gowns and in the middle of one of the fittings two girls walked back to our area. Immediately I bristled. This was our space. And one of them was wearing clogs.

We ignored them for a while. But then the other bride came out wearing a dress that looked like a venti cappuccino. She wasn't petite, she was tall and had some meat on her and the ruching at her waist did nothing for her. The friend she was with, who was an annoying human, kept saying that the dress looked "amazing" on her. Never one to hide my emotions I balked at the "amazing" comment and said, "Um...you should try an A-line dress."

A friendship was born.

Zing and I hung out at David's Bridal a full hour and a half after we were done trying on dresses to give our comments to the other bride, who clearly needed some sort of guidance. The only person she had giving her advice was that one friend who thinks you look "amazing" no matter what. Like, you could walk out of the house with pegged pants, a sequined halter top, a banana clip and Jimmy Choo's on and the friend would be like, "OMG. I LOVE your shoes!"

Our services were needed.

The dress this girl ended up liking the best was a halter-top dress. Now, I have such a hard time with halter-tops. I mean, it's a halter-top (read: sorta trashy IMHO). I just mean that when I ev-er get married I will not be rocking something that is popular with the tweens.

But she liked it. And I was there to support her (even though I didn't know her from a ham sandwhich) and besides the fact that it was a (*gah*) halter top, it did look pretty on her. So I said to her, "The dress is really pretty. But you need to wear your hair up."

She reared around to me, all 6' of her, on that bridal podium and said, "Oh no. I have to wear my hair down. Or half up half down. I'm the fattest I've ever been, and my face is really round and I'm self-conscious about it. I have to wear it down. Or half up half down."

Uh. Ok.

Then she came over to us and shoved her ring in Zing's face. "Soooo what are you going to do about your band? I mean our rings are kind of similar. Are you going to wear your band on your left hand? I think I have to wear my engagement ring on my right hand and my wedding ring on my left hand. What do you think?"

(My head is spinning even as I write this)

"Um. Well my ring sits a little higher than yours so I can probably fit a band there."

"Yeah..."

Then the friend chimed in, who, I have to say was rocking a SERIOUS camera. Like one of those professional Nikon ones, "I just love my ring! I mean, it's rose gold but I love it."

I stood up and peered at her ring....wait...is that a...is that diamond a...

"It's a heart..." she said smiling down at her left hand.

I couldn't believe it. I'd seen heart shaped engagement rings in the ads for Belden Jewelers but I never thought they were real. I thought they were some kind of urban engagement ring myth.

I smiled and said, "Well your wedding ring is really pretty." Which it was.

We came to the end of the dress trying on. And the four of us and Evelyn were just kind of hanging out, surrounded by plastic wedding dress bags and petticoats.

The other bride asked Zing where she met her fiance and Zing told her. I was just about to chime in and ask where she met her fiance when Zing beat me to it.

"We actually met online (I KNEW IT!) but not with like match.com or anything like that. I actually do online role playing games, like Dungeons & Dragons (um...pardon?) and one night I was having a really hard time killing this one character so I just typed up an email asking for help and this one guy answered and helped me. Then we exchanged email addresses and one day I was having a bad day so he asked if I wanted to talk on the phone so I said yes. Then on the phone one day he asked if we wanted to meet up. Now he lives in New Zealand..."

"Wait. What?" Jen and I said.

"Yeah he lives in New Zealand. So he asked me if I wanted to come visit. He obviously lives there so I'd have a place to stay. I was having a really tough time at work and I had a lot of vacation stored up so I booked my trip there! He picked me up at the airport and it was instant."

"S...so.....um...so how long have you two known each other?"

"A little over a year."

"Oh woooooooooooooooooow and you're already engaged. So you two are like living together and all ready to get married?"

"Oh no. he's still in New Zealand. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) We put in for his visa but who knows. It's up to the government now. We booked the wedding for Fall of 2008 so hopefully it goes through by then!"

Now, this girl was not a hobbit. It's not like she had to marry this guy because no one would have her. And I'm all about the fact that there's a cover for every tea kettle, but I mean, a cover that's half way around the world? Who you met because he was trying to help you kill Lord Thor in level 8 of Wizards and Warlocks????

I don't even have friends I know that well after hanging out with them for a year and a half. I just learned that one of my best friend was born without fingernails and toe nails because she was a preemie! And we met 4 years ago! Things take time.

Anyway, we all walked out of the David's Bridal shop together as they were vacuuming the rugs. Arm in arm (not really) we laughed at the fun we had and walked to our cars. As Zing and I were about to throw it into reverse the friend of the other bride came running (literally) over to The Rollerskate. I rolled down the window and she said to Zing, "My friend is really shy. She wants your business card so you two can exchange dress ideas."

It goes without saying that Dungeons & Dragons and my Zing will not be sharing dress ideas if this MOH has anything to say about it.

Oh hello.

I literally saw the photos of Tom Brady in his new Stetson ads and choked. I was talking to my box vendor and started to sputter. After mumbling that I was OK, I needed a moment with myself.

Like. Day-UM.

There are no woooooooooooooooooooooooooooords......

(besides maybe domeinthebutt.....I mean...)

Look at his arrrrms!!! HOT-ness.

ANTM recap a day late

Sorry this reap is so late peeps. Just got a chance to watch it tonight. I was busy being clumsy in NYC yesterday. But more about that later. Onward to Top Model.

This week.......DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN THE MAKEOVERS!!!!!

"OMIGODMYHAAAAAAAAAIR...OOOOW MY WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAVE....OMGEEEEE IT'S SO SHOOOOOORT....WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!"

**insert blissful sigh here**

I love the makeover episode. It's a ray of sunshine. Nothing makes me feel better about myself and my thick mane of hair than watching girls from Eastbumfucketberg getting an amazing hair cut and freaking out because their purple weave is laying in a lifeless hump on the floor. They have no idea that they are rocking a $600 cut. Shameful.

Anyhew. The Cliff's Notes from the makeover:

• Saleisha, even though she got a bowl cut *yikers* looks like Rihanna now
• Janet...or Jenna...One of the J's....I forget which one...the girl with the short dark hair who they were calling LIza Minelli? Hot. Girlfriend looks good.
• Ebony makes me uncomfortable. And she looks better with bangs.
• I feel like Lisa's hair makes her look even more like a stripper.
• Bianca's hair was so damaged that they had to shave it?! Hein-o.
• The other J girl....the one that got the long blonde extensions....Uuuh, can someone fix her real hair so that the weave blends in? It looks like she's wearing a doily on her head!

And that's it. No one else I really care about.

Oooook. Let's talk about Victoria. I'm actually really annoyed because she's one of my 3 that I picked in my ANTM pool at work. And I've lost three cycles in a row! I was hoping she'd help me win the big enchilada this season because her photos are awesome.

But no....no no....This girl bitches and moans about how she has to wear makeup and heels and how they "don't DO that at Yale." She's not used to wearing makeup and feels uncomfortable putting it on.

Dear Victoria,

You have really nice hair so I'm almost certain you don't live under a rock. And, you tried out for the show which means that you know what it's about. Unless of course your parents shipped you off to casting and you were under the impression that you were going to science camp. I'm not sure. Anyway.....WHAT DID YOU THINK THEY WERE GOING TO HAVE YOU DO ON THE SHOW?! MEMORIZE THE DEWY DECIMAL SYSTEM??????"

You're a clown.

Love,
Lisa

Anyway she got kicked off. And in a very defiant, BOLD, move from the girl who hails from Yale, when Tyra did not call her name she tossed her high heels off. This is not America's Next Top Nerd. I'm glad she's gone.

Meanwhile....on the rest of the show:

• Chantal cried because she was getting stressed out about not being able to portray baby's breath how she wanted to. Her exact words: "I can do this. I can really do this. I WANT THIS!!!" I mean honestly....you can't make this stuff up.
• Nigel as a "you can do it" cheerleader made me awkward
• Um...I got a girl crush on Nigel's wife....Chrissy.....Hellooooo girlfriend is hot!
• Heather is making a name for herself. And I have to admit....I feel bad about calling her ugly. Although secretly I'm only making amends because she's doing so well. Yeah...I said it.
• Does anyone here know if Ambreal speaks? Has she actually said anything so far on the show? No seriously. I'm thinking back and I'm almost certain I've only seen her nod.

Well. Stay tuned next week to see if Ambeal speaks and if Ebony can stop chewing on her bottom lip long enough to let the skin grow back.

Bring it.

Blogger's Note: I'm about to totally geek out...

Oh it's like a gift from heaven...the New York Yankees have been eliminated from the playoffs by the Cleveland Indians.

This is totally effing amazing! I heard this morning as I was putting on my face cream that "the Cleveland Indians join the Red Sox in Boston for game 1 of the ALCS on Friday." Now, since it was morning I honestly didn't put two and two together. I was just kind of like, "Oh...cool."

It didn't hit me until later when I walked out of Brooks. (I stopped there before work to look for a nail polish. They didn't have it.) I hopped into my car and was like, "Holy SHIT!!!!!!!!!!" Then did some fist pumping and booty shaking and high-fiving of myself. The on-lookers got a good show. Then I peeled out of the parking lot.

So my beloved Red Sox along with Jason Varitek's thighs, who already SHUT OUT the LA Angels (puh-leeeeez, baseball on the left coast.....?) will face the Tribe to take the pennant and go onto the World Series. And thank God for it. I mean I love some "A Rod Sucks and Jeter Swallows" as much as the next person but it's too much. I for one, was not looking forward to the Sox/Spanks match up had the Yankees actually been able to get their bats going against the Indians.

And I really couldn't deal with yet another year of Joe Buck and Tim McCarver jerking each other off with pin stripped towels in the Fox Sports booth to A Rod's picture. Just couldn't do it.

So GO RED SOX!!! Trample the Tribe!!! Bring it home for Boston Sports!! The Patriots are already 5-0. Show me that trophy!!!1

Click here to read about the Yankees demise in Game 4. And while I do think Joe Torre is amazing, that sad little picture of him only makes me feel a leeeeeettle bad.

*WOOT!*

Britney Spears as seen through the eyes of a South Boston Rite Aid cashier

I was having sort of a beastly day today. My morning just didn't start off right and then all at once everything; every stress, deadline and pound I felt like I'd gained came crashing down on me and landed on my chest. I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of my office.

Nothing cheers me up more than mass market shopping and dark chocolate (I always feel better when I have dark chocolate because with all of the anti-oxidants I just feel like I'm doing my body good) and what better place to mass market shop than the Rite Aid (formerly Brooks) right in South Boston. The hum of the fluorescent lights and all of the end caps totally wind my clock.

I entered through the automatic doors, picked up some wrapping paper, dark chocolate Hershey kisses and gum. While lingering at the register I spotted the new U.S. Weekly with Heidi Montag of The Hills on the cover. She really wanted to intimately tell the world about her fake nose and new boobies. I perused it while waiting on line and apparently she got made fun of for being an A cup.

Um. Wah? Cry me an effing river Heidi.

But I digress.

I plopped down my goods feeling only minimally better about my life when the woman at the register piped up. Her name tag read Mrs. B. She was totally a Southie local.

"Aaaaah. I'm just so sick of reading about her."

I had serious doubts that Mrs. B was a Hills fan so I snapped out of my pity party and followed her gaze. She was leering at Britney Spears who had a little side bar on the front cover.

"Ya know. She nevah wanted those kids. She probably got really drunk one night, got a little horny and..."

merrrrrrrrrrrrrmath...bears.....Abraham Lincoln naked......merrr....

At "horny" I sort of blacked out. Mrs. B was talking about Britney Spears and her horniness while she fumbled with my dark chocolate Hershey kisses. I was awkward.

I looked up and met Mrs. B's gaze. She was still babbling on.

".....I mean she's just such a mess!."

I nodded solemnly in agreement. "Yes. Yes she is."

At that Mrs. B erupted in a six pack a day laugh and handed me my bag with receipt.

"Have a good day sweetie. Stay sober!!!"

"I'll try. But it's been a long week."

More cigarette induced cackling.

I feel like I made Mrs. B's afternoon, but she totally made my day.