Your Girlfriend is Ugly

Don't try to be lawless in Hoboken. It will cost you $80.

I'm now three weeks into my new life in the tri-state area. So far so good! My apartment is all set up, pictures are hung up on the wall and I even have the recycling schedule committed to memory...even though I haven't been recycling. Bad Lisa Bad!!!

The only downside to Hoboken is the parking. Parking blows the big one. And not yet having a resident sticker makes it even more difficult.

See, when I lived in South Boston (Southie for you locals) you could park in a cross-walk and the most you'd get is a $10 ticket. Totally worth it! But here in Hoboken forget it! From the end of the sidewalk to about two car lengths in is a yellow line. And if you park anywhere near that yellow line your ass is booted, towed and ticketed. It's so unreal!

I was at dinner with one of my co-workers who lives in the neighborhood and I was telling her how stressed out I was about parking. She explained to me how she used to be very nervous about parking as well but after a while she would park her car in the yellow line and she noticed that as long as she left for work early she never got a ticket.

So, last Thursday I'm driving around and driving around and ready to rip my blond hair out because there is not a single spot to park! It was one of those times where everyone in front of me was finding a parking spot except me. I was on the verge of tears when I saw half of a parking spot, the other half was in the yellow line.

"Fuck it."

I had a dentist appointment the next morning at 8am. I figured I'd be done by 8:30 and would be able to just scurry out of the illegal spot unscathed.

Fast forward the next morning.

The Scene: Hoboken, NJ. Cold, cloudy and raining like a mofo.

Lisa in the dentist chair, looking dreamily at her new dentist as he pokes and prods in her mouth.

The outfit: Lisa wearing a dress with footless leggins and rubber flip flops with no traction (this information comes in handy at the end of the story)

Now guys. Let's talk about my new dentist. He was hot. Like hotter than hot. Like he was hot like the fire that consumes other fire. He could've put his entire fist in my mouth to check for cavities and I would've been OK with it.

The only thing is that he talked. A. LOT. And he was so dreamy that when I finally exited the dentist office I didn't realize how late it was. I glanced down at my Fauxlex and saw that it was 9:30.

"Shit."

With the rain coming from every which way and my flip flops offering no support I made a mad dash for Clinton and 12th street.

"It's gonna be there! It's gonna be there! It's gonna be there," I chanted to myself as I passed the Fresh Picked Deli.

"Lisa. Who are you kidding. You parked illegally and you have Mass plates. Your car is so towed," said my other self.

"SHUT UP!"

I came to the corner where I distinctly remember parking the night before and there was no Suzi.

"Fuck."

I dialed the Hoboken Police station and said that this was not an emergency but I think my car got towed.

"What kinda car is it sweetie?"

"Jetta. White. Mass plates."

"Yeah we got it. You need to go to the Tow place on Jefferson and 16th."

"Ok. Thanks."

I did not have the number for a cab, I was wearing flip flops and it was down pouring. Naturally I walked to Jefferson and 16th which was about a 10 minute walk away. Thank God I had my white umbrella with multi-colored polka dots so shield me from the horrific weather.

I finally arrived.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi. That's my car," I pointed to Suzi.

"Ok. Do you have your release form?"

"My who and what now?"

"Your release form."

"I'm from Boston.....?"

"Ok. Go to that window and talk to Ronnie."

Ronnie was a tall and slender man who looked kind of like Clint Eastwood, but less squinty.

"Hi. I need to get my car."

"Do you have your release form?"

"No."

"Ok. You need to take your registration, insurance card, and license and go to the Police Station so they can release your car."

"Ooooohkaaaay. Do you have a number for a cab since I can't actually drive to the police station?"

"Here. Come with me."

I followed Ronnie back to the front where all of the cars were chilling. There scrawled on the wall was a 201 phone number for a Hoboken car service.

"Wait, Ronnie. You said I need an insurance card?"

"Yeah."

"Ok well I moved here two weeks ago from Boston and they don't give out insurance cards in Massachusetts."

Ronnie stroked his 5 o'clock shadow. "Hmmm...well you need that in New Jersey to get your car back...hmmm..."

I looked at him with the doe-iest of eyes I could muster.

"Ok. When you get to the police station ask for Officer Bobby Castellano. I'll give him a call to let him know you're on your way."

"Officer Castellano."

"Yeah."

Ten minutes later the car service dropped me off at the station. Now, let me tell you something readers. Those Hoboken cops are HOT. Like I walked in and thought I was at a model casting. This one guy walked by me with those tight cop pants tucked into the high boots and he was bald and had a huge tattoo with the name ALVEREZ on his bicep. I was like "CUFF ME NOW!"

I must've been standing in the middle of the hallway for a while checking out the fine cop ass that was surrounding me because finally an officer asked me if I needed help.

"Oh. Yes I'm uh looking for Officer Castellano...?"

"Sure. He's right in there."

I walked into a room that was marked "Autos" and stood in line behind a guy who was getting finger printed. Jesus! Do they finger print you here too if your car gets towed? They are no joke!

The man identified as Officer Castellano walked over to me and asked if I needed help.

"Hi. I was sent over by Ronnie...?"

Bobby gave me a nod and asked in a loud voice if I had my registration and insurance card.

"I uh moved here from Boston two weeks ago. They don't do insurance cards in Mass."

He gave a curt nod and walked over to a clerk who filled out my paperwork in 2 minutes. The nice lady then walked over to me, told me to be mindful of the signs and handed me my release form for my car.

I then called a cab to take me BACK to the tow place so I could get my car. Upon entering the tow place a guy who looked liked he belonged on Deadliest Catch greeted me with a nod and a wink.

"Can I help ya?"

"Yes. Hi. I'm here to get my car back."

"Got ya release form?"

"I do."

"Ok. Follow me."

I followed Deadliest Catch guy to the little window.

"How much is this going to cost me?"

"$80."

"And you guys take cards?"

"Yup."

Well this was an improvement at least from when I'd get my car towed in Boston. There it was $110 and CASH ONLY.

I paid the guy, got my receipt and said, "I hope to never see you again."

He gave a hearty laugh and said, "Well at least not here." Then he winked at me.

WELCOME TO HOBOKEN!

Life changes and how they will effect my TV time.

In case you don't stalk me on Twitter or are not privvy to my insane amount of Facebook updates then you might not know that I'm moving to New York in about two weeks.

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii know.

It happened kind of fast. But it's good; it's exactly the change I need.

So the fact that I'm moving and having this major life change isn't really bothering me so much. I mean do I worry about packing up all of my shit in two weeks? Sure. Am I bummed that I probably can't have a proper going away party? Well, yeah. But I can have a welcome to New York party so that's fine.

What I am most freaking out about is how in the world am I going to watch all of my DVR in time before the big move?!???!!!!

Seriously the thought gives me agida. I've only downloaded 4 episodes of 24 on my iPod and the rest are all on my precious Digital Video Recorder. Plus, all of those Millionaire Match Makers and One Tree Hill's that I save for a rainy day! GAH! How am I going to pull this one off???

I'm not tech-savvy so if anyone knows a way to transfer DVR to your iPod then please let me know because quite frankly I don't think I can pull this one off.

My worst nightmare.

This past weekend I spent time at our Cape house with my family relaxing, eating great food and doing some major shopping damage. My sister was home for the weekend so it was a nice opportunity to recharge our batteries.

On Saturday evening we went to our favorite restaurant in Osterville called Wimpy's. It's family owned and we've been going there for years. Plus we've become good friends with two of the waitresses Catherine and Tricia.

That particular evening  we were lucky enough to have Catherine as our server. She's Irish and can take a joke. Plus she always makes sure there's a nice big healthy pour in my wine glass.

Three-quarters of the way through the meal and three rounds of drinks in, a family seated a few tables down started to sing. I spotted four children; three girls and a boy. One of the girls was of toddler looking age. She had a pacifier in her mouth and didn't look like she could pee in the bathroom yet. That's a toddler right? Anyway this supposed toddler was having a hissy fit so the family was serenading "The Wheels On The Bus" to her.

This is my worst nightmare come to life. I don't like children. They make me nervous and they are dirty and they are so chatty. Like Jesus! The sky is just blue OK?!

Right in the middle of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" Catherine came over to see how we were doing.

I gestured my head towards the singing family and said to her, "Think they'll sing us a song?"

"Well let's see about that." And off Catherine went...to the table where the singing family was seated. To ask them if they'd sing to us.

You've got to be kidding me.

I heard her say, "That nice lady right there wants to hear a song from you." Catherine was talking to the little boy who had chocolate caked on his face and her finger was aimed right at me.

Oh God.

After some hemming and hawing the mother wrangled her brood and brought them over to where we were sitting.

I was horrified.

"Ok guys. Ya ready???"

I glanced at my phone. It was 8:15. Shouldn't children be in bed by now? Not out singing to strangers?! 

"The Wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. The Wheels on the bus go round and round. All through town. The windows on the bus go up and down, up and down, up and down. The windows on the bus go up and down all though towwwwwn."

Ok fine it was cute. I decided to give them a standing O "YAAAAAAAAAY! Oh how wonder-"

"The driver on the bus goes sit right down. Sit right down. Sit right down. The driver on the bus..."

"....ful...UGH!!!!"

"....goes sit right down. Aaaaaal throooooooooough tooooooooooooooooooooown."

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP. "Great job you guys!"

"The mother on the bus shoes shhh shhh shhhh, shhh shhh shhh...."

You've. Got. To. Be. Shitting. Me. Who else is on this Gdamn bus!!!??? If there is a field trip on this bus I'm killing myself with this butter knife.

"....The mother on the bus goes shhh shh shhhh alll through tooooooooown."

I held my breath, pleading to the baby Jesus that there would be no more verses of The Wheels on the Bus. He answered my prayers. But then we had to clap and catch the air kisses given to us by the little toddler child.

If Jack Bauer ever needs to resort to extreme torture to get information out of someone I recommend The Wheels on the Bus.  

It's too early for this...

I realized last night that by thinking I could get up at 4:30 to make the 6am train back to Boston was WAY too ambitious so I confirmed with my boss that it was OK to take the 8am back instead and booked a ticket.

So this morning I haul my tired ass to Penn Station and made my way on the Acela. I immediately secured a seat facing the direction of the train (I get motion sickness very easily and going backwards makes me want to curl up into a ball and hurl). Mind you, I have not had coffee yet. I am doing this new thing where I try to see if I can go the morning without coffee. Usually I can make it until about 10:30. But today I was dying.

After laying out all of my stuff across two seats so no one would try and sit with me, I made my way to the Cafe Car. The Cafe Car doesn't open until the train starts moving but I didn't care. Apparently the guy working behind the counter did because he was passed out on the counter. I'm taking head down, passed out.

"Um....he-hello...."

ZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZzzzzzZzzzzzz

"HellooooOOO."

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZzzzzzzzzzzz

"HI! HELLO!"

He lifted his head up slowly and stared at me through half-lidded eyes.

"Do you have iced coffee?"

"No. No iced coffee."

"Ok. I'll take a regulah hot coffee. No sugah." (My Boston accent goes into over drive when I'm tired.)

Rip Van Winkle then rose from his stool and leisurely secured my coffee.

"Is that it?"

I glanced over to the muffins.

"What kinda muffins ah those?"

"Blueberry."

"That's all you have? Just blueberry?" I'm not a fan of blueberry.

Rip gave me the Care Bear Stare. In fact, he was so still that I thought he'd fallen with his eyes open.

"Yes. Blueberry is the only flavor we have."

"Meh. Ok just the coffee."

After my receipt printed out (I charged $2 coffee) Rip threw it on the counter and went back to passing out.

I'm sure he enjoyed our exchange as much as I did.

The most annoying 60 minutes of my life.

I always say that I can't stand when people complain about the vicissitudes of New England weather. I just want to shake them and say, "You live in New England! If you don't want to see snow go to Arizona!"

Can't stand it! Makes me crazy! Hurts my head!

However, I am here to blog about how much I hate the snow right now.

I woke up yesterday morning to a blizzard taking place outside of my window.

"Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh....." I groaned as I reached for my Blackberry to call my therapist.

"This is Barbara."

"Barbara," I croaked, "Lisa Gradie. So is there any sort of rule for weather? Like if it's really bad do you cancel appointments?"

"Not unless we're talking the Blizzard of '78."

"Oookay. See you at 7:30."

The reason why I called is because if I don't cancel my appointment within one week I get charged $130 for the appointment. So I was hauling my ass to Brookline tonight; Nor'easter or not.

So all day I was anxious about driving in the snow. It wasn't so much driving to Brookline which is only 15 minutes from my office it was more anxious about driving the hour back to my house from Brookline. Finally at 6:15 I started to pack up. I wanted to leave enough time to actually get there. 

I made my way downstairs to the garage where I park and this is where the first annoyance happens. 

Need a push?

The ramp to get in and out of the garage is very steep. I drive a 2008 Jetta. I've plowed through snowbanks in my car so I really didn't think I'd have a problem going up a ramp. 

As I inched my way up I honked my horn like I usually do just to make sure that any unsuspecting pedestrians can hear that I'm barreling out of the garage. As I honked my horn two things happened: 1.) my car wouldn't move and 2.) a guy about my age walked over to my car.

"Oh hi. Sorry I wasn't honking at you. I just usually honk when I come out of the driveway to make sure that people know that I'm coming out, you know because I don't want to hit anyone and mer mer mer..."

"Ok." He glanced down to my tires that clearly weren't going anywhere. "Are you stuck?"

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm not really sure...."

"Do you want me to get behind you and push?"

"Uhhhh ok."

He tried pushing twice and I made it up a few more inches but Jesus Christ was that ramp icy!

After two minutes the garage door started to close, with the nose of my car still under it.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" That was me. Shrieking.

"WATCH OUT!!!" And I threw the car into reverse and gunned it backwards. I looked up to see my stranger, shellacked to the wall presumably just having dashed out of the way in the knick of time, staring at me.

"Ooooook. Why don't you try going forward. I bet you can make it out."

I did a mental signing of the cross in my head and threw my car into drive. Suzi lurched forward and out into the snow covered street.

"YEAH BABY!!!" That was me again. High-fiving myself. "Soooooooo thanks for your help." I didn't know what to do next. Do I offer him a ride? Ask for his number so I can sent him a thank you edible arrangement? What if he was crazy? I mean I know he just helped me out of the goodness of his heart but I just wasted ten minutes trying to get my car out of the garage and I have to make it to Brookline and the weather is just so beastly-

"No problem. Drive safe." And with that my stranger took off down the street probably to take public transportation home.

After I was on the road I was so disturbed by my car getting stuck that I missed my right turn onto Dartmouth street. Now, in normal weather situations I would've've just pulled a U-ey in the middle of the road. But with the blizzard swirling around me I had to wait until a safe place to turn. This safe place wasn't for another 5 minutes. I had to circle pretty much all of the South End, go under 93S and come back to my work just to get back on track. This was annoyance #2 of the evening.

Thankfully the roads were clear and somewhat plowed so I was able to make my way to my therapist with only minimal swearing and pounding on my sheering wheel. I looked at the clock and I had an half-hour to spare. Nice. I was absolutely famished (my new diet consists basically of apples, almonds and water) so I decided to cross the T tracks and grab a small black bean burrito at Ana's Taqueria across the street.

Annoyance #3: No food for you!

"Hola mami."

"Hi can I please have a small black bean burrito with cheese."

"Chu wan' any rice?

"No thanks just a little bit of guac."

"No salsa?"

"No."

"Chee-kon?"

"Um. No."

"Lettuce? "

"I. Would. Just. Like. Cheese. Black Beans. And. A. Little. Bit. Of. Guacamole."

"Fo hea 'o to go?"

"To go please." I held out my card for them to take.

"Cash only."

"What?"

"We no take no cards."

"Since when?"

"Since forever."

I swear this is bullshit. I feel like I remember paying with my card when I used to go to JSutt's to work on the YGIU flash intro and watch So You Think You Can Dance.

"Das ok tho'. Ders an ATM down da street."

"Ok..." I walked away from the counter and straight into the big yellow CAUTION! WET! sign.

I made my way outside and onto the corner. I pondered trudging down the street to get some cash so I could eat my measly burrito which by this time was probably cold. I glanced at my phone to see the time. I only had fifteen minutes until my appointment.

"I'm not fucking walking down the street!" I said to myself.

"Excuuuuuuuse me??" But a little old Jewish lady heard my rant.

"Oh. HAHA. Nothing. Do you need, um, help crossing the street?"

"No."

Starving, I made my way across the street. Unlike some people who use the cross walk I decided to wade through the snow banks and cross the T tracks. It was closer than walking 15 feet to the crosswalk. I get lazy when there is snow in the picture.

I had crossed the tracks safely and was almost home free when my foot slipped on ice that I couldn't see. Next thing I know I was belly-flopping onto someone's Celica.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh....." I laid there for about thirty seconds before I actually moved. First I made sure that I hadn't cracked my teeth on the hood of the car. Then I made sure that no one saw. (If anyone did they weren't seeing if I was OK). Then I cried. (Not because I fell but because I got my new purse wet.)

In case you hadn't guessed yet, my acrobatics onto the car is annoyance #4. And that's all I've got. I mean once you belly-flop onto someone's car and leave an imprint in the snow of yourself there's really nothing else to say.

Thankfully I was going to therapy.

Kooky commute

I've been commuting from the 'burbs now for about a week. It's been OK so far. No real crazy traffic jams to speak of, except today when a Lexus was just parked in the middle lane of the Northern Expressway with its hazards on. Like honestly. If you break down why can't you just mosey on over to the break-down lane?

Anyway, like I said the commute has been pretty low-key, except for yesterday. I was tooling down the SE Expressway when all of a sudden traffic stopped. "It's 3pm. Why the EFF is there traffic??" I said aloud. I dialed 511 to get a traffic update and Lt. Governor Tim Murray was no help ("ALL CLEAR ON BOTH SIDES OF THE EXPRESSWAY FOLKS!!!") so I continued to inch along. Thank God Suzi has heated seats!

Around exit 11 I noticed smoke in the air. Now I know it's bad to say this but whenever there's traffic at a random time of day I think to myself, "There better be a body." Whatever! If I'm going to sit in traffic for two hours it better be because something interesting happened and not because some jackass forgot to fill his gas tank!

As I inched closer to the swirling black clouds of smoke I got a quick glimpse of flames. A car on fire and no fire trucks in sight! This must've just happened...

Finally I was parallel with the accident. The crazy flames were lapping all around the edges and roof of the now crispy car. I fumbled inside my purse for my work camera phone to take a picture but then I realized that it was in a bag in my back seat. (GAH!) I stared a little bit longer until I realized that traffic hadn't moved for a few minutes. This is when I started to have a slight panic attack. I was maybe twenty yards away from a car engulfed in flames. What if the gas tank started leaking and the car exploded? What if flaming debris landed on Suzi? I was just about to ask my self "What Would Jack Bauer Do??" when traffic picked up and I was on my way to the Braintree split and home.

Until the Santa Claus on a motorcycle delayed my commute even further.

I had just gotten on I-95 South when I noticed the flashing lights behind me.

Merrrrr. I maneuvered Suzi from the fast lane to the middle lane to allow for the Statie to pimp by. And pimp by he did, along with a Santa and an elf sharing a motorcycle, three trucks filled with Christmas trees, a few other dudes dressed in leather on motorcycles and about six other State Troopers.

First of all, if you're Santa, wouldn't you want to be in like a Lincoln Navigator with presidential tinted windows? That way you don't get hounded by little kids demanding Wiis and iPhones for Christmas. I wouldn't think Santa would be blowing by on his Harley for everyone to see. And second of all are SIX Staties really necessary? Is this where my suburban tax dollars are now headed? To Santa's police escorts?

Thanks to Santa's pomp and circumstating down 95 S, I'm asking for a couple of extra gas cards in my stocking this Christmas.

!

There are certain times when a girl wishes she had a boyfriend; when heavy lifting is involved, when there are bugs and when her car starts to act like an asshole.

Last night I turned on Suzi. The dashboard lit up the bright purple color that is synonymous with
VDubb's and she went through her list of checks and balances. As I fastened my seat-belt I noticed that there was one icon on the dash that wasn't going away. It was an yellow exclamation point that was inside a U.

"Uuuh..." I muttered, my breath crystallizing in front of me in the 28 degree cold.

"What's wrong?" said JSutt.

"There's a weird icon on my dash. Here open the glove box and get the book."

We flipped through the pages until we came to the page that lists what all the little icons meant.

"BREAK MALFUNCTION?! SHIT!!!"

"Lees. You're looking at the wrong icon. This one is red. The one on your dash is yellow."

"Oh. Oh ok."

"It says 'system maintenance' or 'tire pressure in one of your tires is dangerously low.' So just take it to the dealership and have them check it out."

Ugh. I looked at my tires and they all look perfectly inflated to me. I reeeeeeally don't want to take it to the dealership. And WTF?! My car has some nerve! Suzi is just over a year old and besides, three hours before this icon blew up in my face she was perfectly fine and icon-free!

Do any mechanics read YGIU?

The big O

I don't like Oprah.

Yeah. I said it. Bring on the tar and feathers.

I find her incredibly self-righteous and insanely annoying. Also, she's one of those women who wears ridiculously high heels and then can't walk in them. I was watching her show once -not of my own volition, I was at a friends house- and she came on stage teetering on what appeared to be 6" heels. She could barely hold herself up! After she greeted the audience she plopped down on the couch and stayed there for the entire show. I don't even think she got up to greet her guest.

Last week I'm sitting on my couch, happily watching 30 Rock when who's mug appears on the screen? Oprah's. GAH! The woman has more money than God and she insists on walking around with those huge bags under her eyes. She could put her carry-on luggage in those things! And always appearing on the cover of her magazine? Is that really necessary? Well, actually I suppose it's good for the economy.If Oprah were to decide she didn't want to appear on her magazine covers she'd be putting a few hundred airbrushers out of business.

I was voted Most Likely To Have My Own Talk Show in my senior year of high school. Watch out. I'm coming for you Oprah.

500th Post

I figured I'd dedicate my 500th post (day-um) to how much I hate Halloween since today is in fact the dia de los muertos. Now, I realize hate is a very strong word and my parents told me that I should never use it but "severely dislike" just doesn't begin to explain how stupid I think this "holiday" is.

Honestly, if you're between the ages of 1 and 10 Halloween is cool. You get butt loads of candy and you get to hang out with your friends and walk around after your bedtime (even if you are with an adult). When I was a kid the trick-or-treating was follow-up by a party at my neighbors house. The kids would bob for apples, do candy exchanges and watch scary movies. The adults would hang out and knock back a few. It was awesome.

But now it's an excuse for girls to dress sluttier than they normally would and for guys to try and get laid by them. Why do I have to wear a costume to attend a party? I'm fabulous as my normal self. A costume takes away from the over all look.

I put all of my effort into HWEEN last year. LK, Plus One and I even went as far as to drive to an iParty in the suburbs. (GAH. I'm breaking out into hives at the thought of it). We were butterflies, complete with wings and fake lashes and home made antennae. We were going to meet up with friends and hit up this AMAZING party at The Stadium in Southie.

So after pregaming at my apartment and losing my fake eye lashes to the wind we headed to said party and waited in line for an hour and a half. Apparently whoever was hosting the party invited too many people and the place was already packed because of the Red Sox being in the World Series. -I don't know what I'm more upset about? The fact that I waited in line for 90 minutes or the fact that instead of watching the game I was dressed as a butterfly-. And it was humid as hell last year. Yeah something weird was going on with the weather because it was warm and I remember sweating severely and having my hair frizz up the second I stepped outside.

I was not a happy butterfly.

We said EFF YOU to the party and walked up Dorchester Ave and took over the first dive bar we saw. Half the people we were with were pissed because we weren't at a party and the other half (my half) were just thrilled to be at a bar with real live alcohol.

I kept my wings on for good measure as I flitted around the bar playing darts and doing shots. But it was a waste. For all the running around we did I could've just had everyone over in their costumes to my apartment to drink.

After my botched attempt at Halloween last year I vowed that I wouldn't do anything this year even remotely involved with Halloween. I was invited to carve pumpkins and I made up a story about a yoga class I wanted to go to. I was invited to a Halloween party this weekend which I had to decline due to my non-Halloween plans but even if I had nothing going on, I still wouldn't go. I'd rather catch up on Mad Men. 

My favorite holiday as all of you know is Fourth of July. You just can't beat a holiday where you don't have to be pressured to buy presents for anyone and where the setting is the beach, booze and BBQ. A colleague of mine constantly makes fun of me because of this. He can't believe that Fourth of July is someones favorite holiday. His is *SHOCKER*Halloween. He emailed me and told me that he is dressing up as Anakin and will be wearing his costume to work.

No, he doesn't work at a school, hospital or nursing home. He works in New York in packaging. He's in his 30's and he is WEARING HIS HALLOWEEN COSTUME TO WORK.

Fine you want to celebrate Halloween and go to an after work party whatever. Change into your costume after business hours. Don't tote around your light saber!

It's just weird.

But I am pumped for the 50% off candy that will be overflowing at my local Rite-Aid. At least one good thing comes out of this monstrosity of a holiday.

Cheers to babies in bars!!

Last night I traipsed around the South End with JSutt and The Agent of Fabulousness. JSutt and I started out at Laura Preshong's cocktail party where we tried on $5800 rings with raw diamonds, drank red wine from plastic cups and munched on gourmet cheese doodles. It was a great time and we were surrounded by some cool people. And a child.

There was a woman there who didn't look to be much older than my 27 year old self, who was toting around, what appeared to be an 8 year old girl. The woman was going on and on about the jewelry and how amazing it was and when JSutt complimented her "You Don't Know Jacques" OPI nail color the girl just said, "Yeah I think that's the name. I never remember. It blows my mind how people can even remember the names of nail polishes."

I always remember the name of the color I get my nails done with. But I digress.

We downed our wine and made our way to the second party at Looc Boutique. The A of F met us there and with prosecco in hand we meandered around the space and watched JSutt try on clothes. As we were getting ready to leave the woman and her mini me came strolling through the door. I glanced down at my watch and it was 7:30. Shouldn't that little girl be watching Looney Tunes and getting ready for bed? Not party hoping through the South End.

When we were out on the street we started to talk about what a beast that woman was and then the A of F said, "And shouldn't that little girl be in bed?"

"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII KNOW!" we proclaimed in Unison.

"The last time I was at Beehive a couple had their infant there," proclaimed JSutt. "They brought their infant to a loud jazz club and were just covering its ears!"

"Ugh, get a baby sitter!"

We finally made our way to Pho Reblublique. With all of the kid talk I needed a drink. We sidled up to the bar and ordered our respective cocktails. JSutt and I got vodka sodas with splashes of pineapples and the A of F got a mango margarita. When our drinks arrived I held up my class and said, "Cheers guys!" and as if on cue an ear piercing wail resonated through the restaurant. The three of us looked over to our left and sure enough there was a group of people enjoying dinner in a loud, crowded restaurant with a small baby in a carriage.

"Ugh."

"Totes ugh."

"So annoying."

"SO annoying!"

"To babies in bars!"

"TO BABIES IN BARS!"

*clink*