Your Girlfriend is Ugly

Overheard in the 'burbs: Easter Weekend Edition

Friday: "But I gave birth to you for Christ's sake!"

On Friday evening around 7:50pm I walked into the family room where my parents were to alert The Donna that we should probably saddle up and hit the road to go pick up my sister Shana who was arriving at Rt. 128 station from New York.

My dad was watching some sort of program on the History Channel and The Donna was sitting on the couch snapping the ends off of 78 pounds of raw green beans. In between beheading the beans she was popping jelly beans into her mouth. Earlier that day I was putzing around CVS and decided to buy my mom some of her favorite candy.

"Mum we should probably get going."

"Leeeee-SAH these jelly beans suck."

"Um. Sorry...?"

"No thea wicked hahd."

I grabbed one and chewed on it. No unusual consistency to be found.

"Mum they're fine. If you want something soft to chew on eat one of these." I chucked the Swedish Fish bag at her and gestured that we needed to make a move.

"No Leee-SAH seriously. Hea..."

I then watched as my mother removed the half masticated jelly bean from her mouth and waved it in my face.

"Hea try this."

"I am NOT eating that!"

"Fa God's sake I gave birth to you!"

"And.."

"Hea eat it. Tell me it's not wicked hahd."

"Mum get outta here! Would you eat the jelly bean in my mouth???" I grabbed the half eaten green one and pressed it between my fingers.

To my surprise The Donna went for it!

"MUM!!! GROSS!!!" I shoved the bean back in my mouth. "Can we go please."

"Fine. But I don't know what you're freaking out about. I gave birth to you."

"Yes you said that. Come on we're going to be late."

Sunday afternoon: "I only like Wheel of Fortune."

For Easter we had my cousin Pam and Charles over with two of their three boys, Ben and Matt and my dad's older sister Aunt Nancy.

We were all sitting around the table drinking coffee and having pound cake when Pam (who is no stranger to my tales of waxing) asked what we all did last night

"Shana and I just hung out and watched a movie."

"Yeah," my dad grumbled, "Donna and I watched a movie too. Slumdog Millionaire. It SUCKED."

"Dad! How can you say that? It was soooo good! And it won like every award so at the very least you can appreciate it."

"I haven't seen it yet," said Pam.

"It flashes back a lot and Donna and I were just kind of confused."

"You have to pay attention," I explained to him. "Maybe you should watch it again."

"No. Oooooooh no."

"I don't think it was the right movie for mom and dad," said my sister. (What would be the right movie for my parents??)

My dad continued, "Plus it was about a game show. And I hate game shows."

"It was not about a game show dad."

"Well it sort of was. I'm not big on game shows. I mean I like a good episode of Wheel of Fortune but that's about it"

Sunday late afternoon before dinner: And the brutality just keeps on comin'

There are a handful of topics that are off limits for discussion during family functions. Two of the main ones are politics and the Massachusetts school system. My mother is very active in my towns school committee and talking about it boils her blood. And she has high blood-pressure. So we put these restrictions in place to keep The Donna alive.

Well somewhere in between the cheese ball and the Mets game the topic of schools came up. Pam is a math teacher in Mass so she and my mom were talking. Then I hear Pam tell my mom that they are going to start putting the BMI of kids on their report cards.

"Ah you serious Pam?" said The Donna.

"Yup. Now the school is responsible if your kid is fat," replied Pam.

My Aunt Nancy then turned to me and said, "Lisa you must be glad you're not in school any more huh?"

When the left I took my sister to the train, came home and immediately did my Tank Top Arms and Boy Short Bottom work out DVD.

How did you spend your Easter evening?

* * *

When's the next holiday?

Now that's a muffin top!

I have just received the largest muffin I've ever seen in my life from one of my vendors:

Like. Whoah. How do you even go about making one of those? And imagine the amount of jam you'd have to use in order to enjoy this mountainous baked good?! I suppose you could actually experiment with various spreads since the landscape of this muffin is so vast.

Unfortunately I don't have enough coffee to wash left to wash this beast down. That, and it has raisins (blech). But its the thought that counts! And I'm sure someone will enjoy it!

*BOOOOOOOP* Leave a message!

I'm posted up over at Burt Reynold's Mustache today talking about how much I love Christmas.

Don't be all bah humbug! Go check it out.

Xx

Mashed potatoes, motorboating and moving

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I know I'm a little bit behind with the holiday well wishes but, well I've been busy and important.

My Turkey Day was great. It was totally chill and delicious and just what I needed. Some of the highlights were the stuffing and teaching my cousin Pam what the term "motorboating" means.  ("Above the waist! Not below!"). God, I love my family...

On Thanksgiving weekend I moved. Now, mind you I have moved multiple times. Hiring movers is the way to go. You pack up all your stuff, you organize it nice and neat and they do all the heavy lifting. All you have to do is drink coffee, talk on the phone and be available to point to where the bathroom is.

With that being said, this was bar-none my weirdeset move to date.

First the dudes were late. Which, you know whatever. It happens. Peeps be late. But when they did arrive they smelled like booze and stale ass.

Awesome.

So the movers couldn't pull their truck right in front of my building because there was a lonely car still parked there, so they pulled into the alley a few feet away. This is the alley that leads to my white trash neighbors house. We call them Domestic Dispute because they are always screaming and yelling at eachother and on one occassion the mother was hollering that she was going to hang herself and "is that how he wanted his son to find her?!?!!?!?? Hanging from the ceiling."

Oh and did I mention she wears an alcohol monitoring bracelet? (What? House Arrest is classy.)

The two movers come up and start to tell me how the neighbor is yelling at the them to move their truck because the mother-in-law can't even git by with her strollah. For the record there was plenty of room for a triple-wide strollah let alone a single strollah.

So we think all is cool until I notice that only one of the movers is coming up and down the stairs. Finally, while he's carrying 1 of the 5 boxes filled with shoes he says to me, "I feel so bad for Eric. Your neighbors won't leave him alone."

It was at this point that my sister sauntered down the stairs and in her best Boston accent asked Domestic Dispute what the problem was and what can we do hea to remedy it.

"Well my motha-in-law can't get by with her strollah."

"Sir. If ya'd just let the guyz do thei-ah jobs we can be outta hea in like a half hou-ah."

"Well ya know. A half hou-ah turns inta two hou-ahs."

"You know. We've been good neighbahs to yiz. This isn't very neighbahly."

"No No I know. And you know I don't want to get the police involved since I just got outta jail."

With that Domestic Dispute took one last drag of his Kool and went back to his shackled wife to let Gentle Giant finish the job.

About twenty minutes went by when I noticed something that didn't quite fit. I stood up and saw a dog running around my now empty living room.

"There's a dog in the apartment."

My sister's eyes got all wide. I totally knew she was thinking Rotweiller.

"Shana. Relax."

I walked down the hallway and saw the pooch. White. Curly hair. Friendly enough.

"Um. Hi pup."

*woof*

"I think you're lost."

*sniff*

I took hold of his dog tags and saw that he lived at 68 Marine Road. Right around the corner.

"Ok buddy. Let's get you home."

He followed me out the door and then instead of taking a left with me took a right and peaced out down Columbia Road.

"Uh. Ok..."

I decided to go knock on 68 Marine Roads door anyway to let them know that their dog was barking and entering.

No one was home. Cool.

The movers finally finished up around 1:30.

"It would've been a lot faster if we could've parked outside. But what can you do?"

"Yeah what can you do right?"

I hopped in my car and prepared to drive away. That was when I noticed my downstairs neighbor come out with her boyfriend. They looked around timidly and then exited into the sunlight right into the car that was parked out front! That was her car! That bitch! And she knew I was moving too. I knocked on her door the night before and asked her if she wanted any furniture. So effing rude. It's not like she was hard up for parking. All she had to do was move up four feet and she still would've been out front and left plenty of room for the moving truck.

I'm going to miss living in Southie but not going to miss having rude trashy assholes for neighbahs.

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.

Fourth of July wiikend recap

I hope you all had a lovely fourth of July! It is indeed my favorite holiday. Why? Well...you get the three B's: beach, beer and BBQ! Plus you don't have the stress of buying presents for anyone. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas just as much as the next non-practicing Catholic, but there's nothing quite like the lazy days of summer to really round out your holiday.

Since we were allowed to leave work at 1pm on Thursday (and since no one of importance gets to the office until about that time) I asked for the day off so I could head to our Cape house early and hang out with my dad (read: torture him and make him take me out to lunch). I woke up the next morning in single digits which nearly sent my father into cardiac arrest and we started our day. I had to get an oil change so we headed over to Mashpee so I could get taken advantage of at Jiffy Lube ($81 for an oil change!? I'm no mechanic but doesn't that sound steep?), and have cicadas pelt my car.

Oh. What are cicadas you ask? They're these nasty bugs that only come out of the ground every seventeen years. It's like the bug version of War of the Worlds. They are huge. And they get air born which makes them even scarier (everything is scarier if it has wings). At night it's like listening to 50,000 diesel cars just idling. I don't do arthropods and I most certainly don't do cicadas. Anyway. BLECH. Moving on!

We ran all kinds of errands. Picked up hot dogs, hamburgers, fixings for me to make my trifle and my ingredients for me to make my sangria which NOBODY BUT MYSELF drank. But we'll get to that later.

The night concluded with The Donna and my aunt arriving from Norton and Plus One arriving from NYC. I was sitting in the living room with Plus One and Aunt. I had just put my night guard in (I clench my jaw so tightly at night that my teeth are starting to crack. A fine selling point if I do say so myself) and was mumbling something when Aunt turned to me and goes, "What did you put that in for? So you won't eat anything else tonight?"

The first insult in five hours. Impressive for her!

The fourth came and went with little fan fare. Beach, beer and BBQ with some fireworks thrown in for good measure. It was low-key and chill and exactly how I like my favorite holiday to be.

Saturday morning the rest of the family arrived: My cousins Pam and Charles and their three sons. And of course it was raining. Luckily they brought their Wii with them.

Now, I am probably the last human on the planet to play this game but holy HELL is it fun! I was kicking some major 11 year old butt in bowling, although my 8 year old cousin Matty did knock me out in boxing. But tennis, that there was by far my favorite! I actually got The Donna and my dad to play. My mother tried to play tennis but was too busy laughing hysterically at her Mii and my dad actually got into it, but then started instructing me to "follow through!" on my backhand. I didn't realize how competitive I was until the next morning when I was complaining how sore I was and my cousin Jose, the 17 year old said, "Yeah, you were going a little crazy with the tennis." 

We broke for some shopping and pimping around the local stores of the Cape. (I will spare the readers and Pam, the conversation we had about Brazilian waxing. She actually melted into a puddle when I explained the process to her). We convened back at the house for a snack. I was standing up in the middle of our kitchen munching happily on my small sandwhich and Aunt was insisting that I sit down but I declined. "I've been sitting all day. I'm OK. Thanks though." To which she replied, "What do you want to stand up for? So you can eat more?"

This was the first dig of the day for her. And it was around 3:45. She was getting slow in her old age.

Back to the sangria portion of the day. I had this GREAT idea to make a shit load of sangria for the BBQ we were having on Saturday. My mother works for a wine distributor and as a result I have boxes upon boxes of wine stacked to the ceiling in my apartment (which I now live all alone in) so I decided to make some sangria with the various CAB SAV, Merlot and other anonymous labeled bottles that were lurking in my pantry. For good measure I threw in a bottle of brandy and a bottle of triple sec to seal the deal, added in some chopped up golden delicious apples, limes, lemons, a papaya (??) and some oranges. VOILA! The most boot leg version of sangria you ever did saw! And no one wanted to drink it. I had used seven bottles of wine and two mid-sized bottles of liquor. You can imagine the tub of sangria that was sloshing around.

My Irish/Italian/Catholic/Allaround guilt flooded over me. I can't have all of this go to waste! So I started pounding it. I will say this, it improved my Wii game tremendously. Although it didn't help me beat Plus One at tennis. She decided to do what my 8 year old cousin Matty does in boxing and just wave the controller around like maracas. Shockingly enough that works! I didn't get shit canned off of the sangria but I did end up getting ridiculously ill. I won't go into detail because I'm a lady, but I will say that I think one of the bottles of red wine was bad. And that papaya doesn't go with Chinese sausage. 

Sunday was wonderful. It was sunny and hot so we hit up the beach. I caught some crustaceous crabs with Matty and then after working up a sweat we took a dip and started chucking sea weed at each other. At one point during our sea weed wars I had to adjust my top, so that the girls didn't pop out and cause my cousin years of therapy. Mid-shift he jumped over to me and goes, "Are you hiding sea weed in there for a sneak attack????" It was a good idea. But I decided against it. Instead I faked to my left and pelted Matty in the back with a blob of green sea weed. He returned my fire and I darted to my right, wincing in pain from my wii battle wounds.

I love Fourth of July.

Merry Christmas! Joyeux Noël! Feliz Navidad! Natale allegro! Frohe Weihnachten! メリークリスマス!

Well there is only a half hour left in Christmas and I hope that this year, Santa was good to all of you. I hope everyone had a wonderful time sitting around the tree opening gifts and that your glass was full of whatever poison you chose for the event. And to all of my Jewish peeps out there (Challah!) I hope that you enjoyed the Chinese food and whatever movie you saw. Hit me up with a recommendation. Anyone seen Juno yet?

I, for one, am full. I od'ed on Shana's cupcakes (de-effing-LISH) and I would like to say that tomorrow I am going on a "sweets detox" but it's my dad's birthday the day after Christmas and a birthday cake we will have come hell or sugar shock!

I'll be hitting the after Christmas mall specials at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow with Shana at Providence Place. Me and my new bangs are going to find some good deals. Although we all know that I don't need anything, since, ya know, Santa just came.

I was particularly looking forward to this Christmas for the following reasons:

• A visit from Nicky and Eric. The coolest twosome ever to transplant themselves to the Left Coast. I might have a mild coronary from the excitement overload when I see them in a few days. Just sayin'.
• A visit from Zing. As her MOH, Esq., we will be dabbling in the following activities: flower scouting and MOH dress shopping. Even though the 28.6 cupcakes I had are shellacked to my arms I am not going to worry about it because...
• I am on vacation until January 7th. HOLLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!! So I have all the time in the world (or until the 7th) to go to the gym and work out as leisurely as I want to. Starting the 27th though, back to broth and sushi for dinner.

So I truly hope that your Holidaze are going well and that you have a lovely New Years. I'm banking on 2008 being a great year! Thank you for being a fan of Yourgirlfriendisugly.com. I hope that over the course of 2007 I've made you laugh. (What am I talking about. OF COURSE I've made you laugh. I'm hilarious. If you haven't laughed then you have no business going to your computer and punching in YGIU.com to begin with.)

*ahem*

So keep checking YGIU. In the next coming weeks not only will there be blogs chronicling yours truly, but there will also be some exciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiting additions!

Merry Christmas and sweet dreams!!

Xx

'Tis the season to get bombed (This blog is rated D for Drunkface)

Like most people who live in the world I enjoy Thanksgiving and Christmas. The buffer holidays that live in the shadow of the Big Two, H-ween and New Years, respectively, I can take or leave. But I do love me some turkey on Thanksiving and roast beef to celebrate the cumpleanos de Jesus (pronounced Hay-zeus...natch).

But what I love even more than being immersed in these two magical days is the time lapse between them. It's those 6-ish weeks between when we carve the bird and open up presents with a glass of wine in hand where we get to eat, drink and be fat, dumb and happy in total oblivian.

Hey the guy in red does it

The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is when you can let your hair down. Gifts from vendors pour in, chock full of various Christmas meats, cheeses and spreads. Or if you're like me, one of your vendors gives you a foot trampoline. *shrug*. You go about your day with a slight smile on your face because even though it's a fucking rat race, it is after all "the season" and you don't want to be the Grinch. The weekend comes and you're busy chatting with your friends about what dress you'll wear to so and so's holiday party and if a bottle of red or white is more appropriate.

Yes *sigh* it is a great time of year. And the past few weekends I've had a pretty good go of it. It seems that I have fallen down the rabbit hole and landed in a pool of tap beer.

I don't know what happens! Well, obviously I do know what happens. I'm getting too caught up in the holiday cheer. I plan these nights out with friends and next thing I know I'm waking up the next morning still in my party dress and my fake eye lashes stuck to the mirror above my bed. 

A cople of weekends ago,  Shana, LK and I went to see Gary Gulman at the Comedy Connection. We had a glass of wine each at Cheers while we waited for the show and all of us commented on how Christmasy everything looked. I for one was overcome with the holiday spirit. I fluffed my hair a little bit and made some comment to the girls about how great it was to be together during this time of year. (Truth be told, I live with my sister and LK is pretty much over all the time anyway. It's great to hang out with them, all I'm saying is that we don't need to wait until the holidays roll around in order to grab drinks). We headed to the show and while there we had a couple of beers (Shana had one and a half because she was driving....I'm sure LK and I split the rest of her half) and then LK and I decided to hit up the L Street Tavern after.

You read breifly about what happened that night in my blog entitled My Whereabouts , something about how I called the bartender Cornholio and how we lolled around on the floor because we couldn't get up. Yeah. The next morning LK and I woke up and thought that surely we were roofied due to how hammered we were. Surely we were slipped some sort of mind altering substance. We were fine when we got the L Street. We were fine when hung out at the bar retelling the same story over and over again. Roofies slipped by Santas elves for sure.

So this past Saturday we planned a very grown up night out. Me, LK, Slut and HLP went to this benefit at The Vault. It was a tres chic event and required dressing up and all such cuteness. The bar was all decked out with Christmas decorations and you could feel the holiday cheer in the air. Good cause, good time of year and drinky-poos. The clientele was "so-so" but the Pomegranate Martinis were amazing. Again, I left the bar pleasently buzzed but still able to walk in a straight line.

We, of course, ended up at L Street Tavern in our finest H&M couture for some late night Bud Lites.

Apparetly everyone had come from some sort of holiday party but no one was quite as dressed up as we were. Just ask Paulie, my boyfriend for the night.

As I stood at the bar ordering Bud Lites for me, LK and Slut, a breath of nasty air was hurled at my face. I followed the noxious gas and it's owner was a drunk, ruddy faced, watery eyed 40+ year old hanging on for dear life to his bar stool.

"Ya gorgeous."

"Thanks."

"No. I mean...wow."

*smile. chug*

I looked over to see if this bozo had any sober friends and to my surprise I saw the entire South Boston mob posted up at the bar a few feet behind him. I caught one of the consigliere's eye and he whispered to me, "Paulie here just got out of jail."

"Oh yeah? What for?"

"Armed robbery."

I looked over at Paulie who was staring at me like I was a Rubix cube looking to be figured out. The jailbird thing could be hot. If he was 15 years younger, had muscle tone, wasn't trashed off of tap beer and didn't have skin that looked like an orange peel that had been run over by an 18-wheeler.

I congratulated Paulie on his release and continued to dance with Slut to the tunes we had just picked out. *Blogger's note*: Why is it that when girls get super trashed they do one of three things: 1.) grab eachother boobs, 2.) smack eachother's ass and/or 3.) dance like they are Jennifer Lopez and think it's hot. It's sooo not hot and I'm the first one to admit it when I'm swaying around with my Bud Lite bottle in the air. At one point Paulie came up behind me and started to get into it. He was touching my hair and steading himself by placing a vice grip on my shoulder.

I scuttled to the bathroom. As I washed my hands I took in the Christmas paraphanlia. Such a great time of year. I headed back to the bar where we started to pack up, much to Paulie's dismay.

"But you're gorgeous."

"I know but I have to go."

"Aaaaaw it's Christmas....!"

Ooooh. There ain't enough spiked egg nog on EARTH to make Paulie look good.

Tonight, our boss is having a get together at his apartment for all of us employees and tomorrow is my family Christmas party. Let's see, one party is for work and one party is during the day. Best behavior and copious amounts of water in between dirty martinis are key.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

(P.s. I know this blog has spelling errors in it. The spell check thingy isn't working. Grrr...)

Homeless man: 1, Lisa: 0 (with a strained hammie to boot)

I had a busy night last night. I got myself waxed and then had plans to meet Brennon, author extrordinaire of Look Back In Anger, for drinks. Last week he Gmail chatted me and goes, "I'm single and want to get hammered with you."

Me: "Ok."

It really doesn't take much folks.

So we settled on meeting this past Tuesday since I'd already be in the Newbury area and he works in that general vicinity. We met up at Joe's on Newbury in the bar downstairs. (Subsequently this blog is not about our night together. However, if you want to read about it then click here and have a gander at the blog entitled Seventeen.)

Walking down Newbury, I was on a mission for a glass of wine but first I had to put a few dollah billz in the parking thingy and get a fresh sticker. I approached Susi and walked past her to the new "meters" that have been installed. No fumbling with quarters any more and you can use your debit card. Pretty amazing and about damn time. I took out my wallet and shoved two dollar bills in the machine and it spit out a fresh sticker.

Now, when I say that I used my last two dollar bills I swear that is the truth. While I was pulling the sticker from the machine I heard a homeless man grumbling behind me, "Merrrrradsferrrrrr....got any change?"

I really didn't.

"I'm sorry I don't."

"Merrrrr..*gurgle gurgle*...bitch....hope you fall..."

"Um...thank you."

WTF? I'm getting heckled by a guy wearing toilet paper. And quite frankly I don't need this stress. I've only purchased three gifts for Christmas and I'm very busy and important this week/weekend and don't have time to shop. I didn't even do Christmas cards! I'm usually the first one plopping them in the mail box! Shameful, I know.

I was rattled. I stuck the parking sticker on the appropriate window and proceeded down the street. As I came upon Madura I maneuvered my way to the right in order to let some dude go by who had his phone shellacked to his ear. As he walked by I heard a snippet of his conversation, "I love you. NO! I DO love you!"

Not convincing my friend.

I shimmied to the right to let this guy go by. I zigged when I shoulda zagged and *BOOM* next thing I know I'm in a strange position that looks like I'm trying to do a split but instead ended up in a lunge. I tried to get myself upright but my left leg buckled and I fell on my ass.

Cool.

I looked around and surprisingly there was no one in front or behind me. Then the homeless man's voice permeated my ear drums "Hope you fall bitch..."

Honestly. Is there no solace for a girl who, just last week, gave cash to the Salvation Army bell ringer. Twice! Once at South Shore Plaza and once at the Stop & Shop in Plainville.

Happy Holidays. And p.s. I really think I pulled a hammie.

The power of the commerical...

I don't know about anyone else but I can recite the G-damn Garmin commercial lyric for lyric!!!

*GAH!* It's on permanent repeat in my brain...

"Where's Highway 10?"
"There's the Moose again!"
"Give a give a give a GARMIN!!"

And the bitch of it is, is that I have DVR so I am usually fast forwarding through the commercials. I..it's...driving me insane! I sit at my desk and bust out with "THERE'S THE MOOSE AGAIN!" Or I'm tooling down the hall to the bathroom and I start humming "Give a GARMIN!!!"

And didn't they play this commercial last year? Has the holiday commercial also been another casualty of the writer's strike? If so, I'm begging them to get back to work!

To check out the commercial click right here!