Your Girlfriend is Ugly

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.

Farewell

I had a good time in college. I lived in a prime apartment in the city with two guys and another girl. I was nineteen and never without liquor because either Tony Bologna or Stu would buy for me. We partied every night and there were always crazy shenanigans happening on our roof which looked into the Prudential Center. But that's what college is all about right? Hooking up with too many guys and drinking too many nips of Puckers.

I tried to relive my glory days when I moved to Southie four years ago. I was partying every weekend and drinking like it was my job. I even passed out in my friends bath tub and later on that night eventually puked pink stuff all over the street. Too much red wine and special brownies. 

Then there comes a point when you enter your mid-twenties that you say to yourself, "I can't drink like that any more." Don't get me wrong. I'll enjoy the bottle of red wine all to myself and I'm all for grabbing drinks after work. But gone are the days when I wake up at 7am on St. Patty's day and drink until midnight.

However, my responsible drinking self was shoved aside on Saturday for my Last Hurrah in Southie. I am moving out of the neighborhood that I've called home for the past four years and I wanted to remember the evening. Remember I did...until 6pm the following night.

Hooker made it a point to come up from NYC for the weekend so she could see me off in style. She used to live in the neighborhood and she was also my drinking buddy when she lived in Boston so it was totally fitting that she made it a point to be here.

At 5pm I cracked open a Stella and started to get ready for the evening. By 7pm I was totally buzzed and decided it was a good idea to pop open the bottle of Vueve Cliquot that was burning a hole in my fridge. The Ukrainian Princess had joined us by this time so the three of us bopped around my apartment sipping Vueve and applying eye liner.

By 9pm everyone had arrived at my place and I was reliving the Stairwell Story compliments of Iggy and Hooker. I don't know why those two feel the need to always retell it. Oh I know why. BECAUSE IT'S THE BEST STORY EV-ER.

The entire group of us made our way to the L Street Tavern around 10pm and the place was bumping. By this time I was totally buzzed and kept telling the random wicked drunk guy that my (sober) friend Rose liked him. This made him stand really close to her and rub up against her.

"YA FUCKIN' DEAD!" She shouted to me from across the bar as I collapsed in giggles. 

One thing you should know about me when I get drunk is that I ALWAYS want to do shots. It's like a relax or a gift from God or something. Saturday night was no different. I turned to my friends Jessie and T and told them I wanted to do a shot. 

"ANNNYFRING BUT JAEGAH MMKAY? I'LL BAHF IF WE DO JAEGAH."

"Irish Car Bomb?"

"What's that? I nevah done one."

"It's delicious."

"Ok. BAHTENDAH! THREE IRISH CAH BOMBS!!!!"

You should also know that when I get drunk my Boston accent comes out full force.

I pounded that Irish Car Bomb and after licking the Bailey's from my thumb proclaimed the Bahtendah to BRING ME ANOTHA!

"Leeeees....." JSutt had sidled up to my left, "Ok Leees. So you just did an Irish Car Bomb. Maybe you should wait 15 mins. If you want another one then come back and get one ok?"

"K." And with that I slithered off my stool and went outside to get some air.

During all of this drinking and debauchery I decided to undress Jhilll's fiancee Dave. I don't know what it is about Dave but whenever I'm drunk around him I feel the need to either take his clothes off or breath heavily near him. It's a wonder he even still talks to me. In between Irish Car Bombs -yes I did another one- I started to chat up this guy in a striped sweater. He walked by me and I just gave him a nod and said "HEY."

"Hey. How are you?"

"I'm good. You look like Pacey from Dawson's Creek."

"Really??? No one's ever told me that before!"

"Well you do."

We talked a little more but I had the attention span of a gnat and he eventually got sick of  me and walked to the other end of the bar. By 12:30 I had a revelation that we had to leave L Street immediately and head to Murphy's Law, the dive bar down the street that's open super late. I don't know why I felt the need to leave. L Street was bumping and Pacey and I were making bar eyes. I passed him on the way out and he asked where I was going.

"Murphy's."

"Why? It's so shady!"

"Yeah but it's open late!"

"So is my apartment."

I was too drunk to process this. "Mmmmkay byeeeee."

Hooker asked me later why I didn't get my boyfriends number. I told her I had two Irish Car Bombs. 'Nuff said.

Murphy's was filled with the usual clowns. One guy in a Patriot's hoodie kept telling us his friend was going to whip it out for us. Another guy with the smallest head I've ever seen started talking to Jessie and some guy named Dave kept grabbing my nose and saying, "HA! GOT IT!"

The nose grabbing thing was new to me. The threat to whip out a penis, unfortunately was not.

Saturday night was one of those great nights where everyone is in a good mood, the crowd is cool, the vibe is chill and even though you drink like you're going to the chair you don't hurl. That last point is the difference between grown up drinking and college drinking. When I was 20 I totes would've ralphed -totally the best synonym for puking Chris-.

What the psychic said: Coming Soon

I know you are all chomping at the bit to know what the psychic told me yesterday. And I'm going to write about it in detail I just have some morning meetings and well, work, I have to take care of this morning.

But don't worry. You'll get all of the juicy detals right here at YGIU.

Xx

Lisa

Bang-ing

I fully admit that I've been lacking in the blogging department for the past couple of weeks. I've been on vacation and kind of just lolling around. The most exciting thing that has happened to me was that the new postal worker asked me where our mail went. Oh and I got bangs.

I was loading my car with laundry when she turned to me on our front stoops and goes, "Ok now where does this go?" and motioned to the pile of mail in her arms. Being a mail carrier I would guess that there is only one place where the mail goes...THE MAIL BOX.

I raised a frozen hand and pointed to the set of three mail boxes to her right and chattered, "Um, in the mailboxes."

"Ah. Ok."

Oh yes and I realize that this is not ground breaking news for those of you who know me, but I got bangs. Yes the Saturday before Christmas, at 9a.m. fresh from a 3a.m. holiday rager at my boss's place, I stumbled into James Joseph on Newbury Street and the lovely and talented Mayumi gave me a heavy set of bangs. Which I love p.s.

Prior to the bang cutting I had been carrying around this feeling of boredom and that I needed a change. It started with the major makeover to my room and then after seeing The Devil Wears Prada (love Anne Hathaway's bangs after her makeover) and hanging out with HLP who got a set of bangs, I decided my next change would be to my luscious locks.

So I went to Mayumi and said, "I want bangs. Do it."

See, I have a lot of hair. And it's thick. She was worried that short bangs would stick out and be all unruly. "Nope," I was adamant, "Please cut them." It was either bangs or going platinum blond and I'd only booked a cut and a one process color so I was leaving James Joseph with bangs.

The end result is ADORABLE!!!!! I have to admit that when she first cut them I had a slight panic attack and started to chew on the inside of my mouth like I do when I get really nervous and regret something. (Maryn, if you're reading this, think about the hair cut I got on Newbury Street the summer before senior year when it was a quasi-mullet/bob and you kept asking me what I was doing. I was so horrified that I was masticating the entire left side of my mouth.)

For your viewing pleasure...TA DA!

That's MEEE on the right posing with my sister for a photo before we head out for New Year's Eve. Thoughts? You liiiiiiiiiiiike??

On Christmas night we headed to our neighbor's house for post dinner drinks and dessert. When I entered the bangs were a bit hit but at one point Mrs. Callahan sidled up to me and gave my hair a little tug.

"Yup," she said, "It is you."

She thought I was wearing a wig! Buka, who witnessed the interaction then piped up, "I actually thought it was a wig too since on your Myspace you have photos of you dressed in wigs. So it's not really that off the mark."

Buka would be referring to this photo.

Otherwise known as the night I got drunk by myself and pranced around in my blond Halloween wig...taking photos obvi.

So that's the update. I'm back to blogging and I'm also VERY much looking forward to 2008!

Xx

Company party shennanagins

Ok so I'm pumped. Tomorrow is our post-post-post company holiday party. I know, kinda late. But we never do it during the holidays because let's face it, who has time?!

It's always a lot of fun. LK and I will most definitely karaoke to Africa and I have a few other surprises in store as well. I mean whenever you're out in social situations that involve booze with co-workers interesting things are bound to happen.

I'm making this an open forum to my readers of Yourgirlfriendisugly.com. I want to hear about your craziest most insane company party stories. Did your boss drink one too many martinis and do the funky chicken? Did someone from another department think it was OK to give you "elevator eyes" while the two of you waited in line at the buffet? Or did you overhear a drunken conversation of an IT worker who you thought was as quiet as a church mouse but as it so happens has a freaky deaky side??

I want to know. Don't worry. I'll totes keep it confidential.

:)

Choices, choices, choices.

My laundry situation is kind of dubious at the moment. I'm not going to lie to you: I still do my laundry at home. Yeah I'll go home for a weekend or a night and bang it all out. There are times when The Donna shoves me out of the way and like, demands doing it herself, but for the most part I try to get in there and take charge of my whites and darks.

Anyway, I'm in dire need of functional underwear. Ladies, if you hear me holler back at me; you have, in your undies drawer, skivvies for all occasions.

• Group 1: Panty Lines Need Not Apply: I think that this group speaks for itself. You're wearing tight pants or a skirt or a dress and you can't be having any lines showing so you either wear a thong or something from the seamless category of Victoria Secret (or Target if you roll like I do).

• Group 2: I'm Most Definitely Getting Laid Tonight: Here we have your snazzy undergarments. We have your low riding cherry red lacy variety, oooooor your leopard print mesh variety with blue lace trim (I mean...not me personally...I'm just saying). One could argue that the thong in Group 1 could also be double exposed in Group 2 and it very well can be, however whenever you deal with a thong you run the risk of bending over and showing it off for everyone to see. And well, if your main objective for the night is to get some, you don't want to be flashing everyone like Britney, I mean you want to play a little hard to get.

• Group 3: Cue That Song By Monica "It's just one of those daaaaays": This group consists of usually cotton thick banded briefs (aka: Granny Panties) reserved solely for those days when your uterus feels like going for a jog. This group of underwear should never be seen by anyone else and if it ever is your only excuse should be, "Laundry Day" and nothing else should EV-ER be said about it.

• Group 4: Comfy McComferson's: Aaaaah the staple cotton favorites. There are girls out there who rock the thongs every day, but most chicas I talk to are fans of Group 4. In this group we have your cute boy shorts, your fun bikini briefs with the cute designs like. This is your go to group for all of your undie needs. You can really wear this underwear and be ready for any situation. When wearing skivvies from Group 4 you will always be prepared for every situation.

In any case, at the present moment I'm rocking underwear from Group 2 (insert ensuing and unending speculations here). Why? Well because the Group 2 undies are placed in the back of the drawer, right after Group 1, then Group 3 and Group 4 which is right up front. Well, I've effectively gone through Groups 1, 3 and 4 and as I peered into my drawer this morning, coffee in hand, I was met with an exotic array of options, all from Group 2. Oh dear.

It started off OK with the Group 2 skivs. I made it to work OK, sent my first few emails of the day OK. But then, around 10:30 the tag from the back started to stab me in the left upper butt cheek and it hasn't stopped since. Now I know why these are Group 2 undies; they're not meant to be worn for very long!

Calling out to my ladies.

I have to say...that one of the most annoying things about being a girl is when your hair gets stuck in your bra.

I mean right??!?!?!!

Let me expand upon my point. You're sitting saaay...in a Fall 2007 gift set meeting in the conference room of The Spoil. This is just purely me hypothesizing. There's no truth to this AT ALL. Anyway so say you're sitting there, trying to follow one of the most ADHD meetings ever, take notes and keep everyone on track. You feel a little tickle in your bosom so you absentmindedly brush your hand over your chest. So it doesn't look like you're fondling yourself, but a mere adjustment, like how boys toy around with their junk.

So the meeting progresses and you still feel the tickle. You're sitting next to the president of the company, the other president is across the table from you along with the EVP of Sales and the Marketing Manager. You're trying to sit there looking cute and in control and professional but there is still that damn tickle.

Finally, a break in the action. You glance into your shirt and there is the culprit: one long piece of brown hair hanging around having a soiree on your chest. "That's what I get for growing my hair long", you think to yourself.

*Grrrrr*

You glance around and see that everyone is occupied; the EVP and the Marketing Manager are twiddling away on their Crack Berries and everyone else is milling around or fighting or pouring coffee or lamenting about how "stoopid dis meeeting eees." Like a gazelle you shoot your right hand into your shirt. You feel the hair and make a first stab at it but it slips through your grasp.

Hmph. This rogue hair seems to be alluding you. Oooh I'll get you rogue boob hair!

You peek up and everyone has still not assembled around the table. This time you're all about getting the culprit. Your left hand holds your shirt open while your right hand fishes around inside. It's like the hair was trained to avoid capture. Like it's some sort of Jack Bauer hair!!!

Finally FINALLY! you seize the hair. You grab it by the root, ever so gingerly and pull it out (it tickles you along the way..oooooOOoooh...*erm...ahem*). You dispose of the rogue boob hair on the floor and all is well with your meeting again. You have succeeded in removing the intruder that had taken residence in your pink GAP bra. Order is restored and the gift set meeting progresses rather smoothly.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand scene.

Dude guy, just saw The Depahted. Wicked good!

Typically I'm not one for brains splattering everywhere or excessive usage of the "C" word, but I gotta give it to Martin Scorsese, The Departed was a kick ass movie.

After Nantucket plans got canceled and then Cape plans got canceled altogether, my sister and I decided to have a father/daughter night with our dad; take him to see a manly movie and then go to dinner. My mom was out with one of her old high school classmates (bionic boot and all) attending a birthday party.

The last time my dad went to the movies it was to see The Passion of the Christ, so it was kind of a big deal.

For what it's worth, we all gave it an A. I mean, I realize that The Academy is not going to be reading Yourgirlfriendisugly.com in search of movies to nominate but you should see it.

And bravo to Marty S. for making a movie that is gritty, violent and just downright brutal. According to Boston.com, he's finally given up on making films that will land him a nomination but leave him statue-less at the end of the night. And it's about time. The man brought us Taxi Driver, Cape Fear and The Color of Money and Three-6 Mafia has a a little gold dude? Something isn't right.

Click here to read the Boston.com article.

Finally! New specs!

With not a ray of sunshine in sight this past weekend, it was indeed an auspicious moment to go shopping. (Not like I need any sort of excuse to go shopping, but....well....whatever).

Two of my favorite purchases include a Day Planner that I picked up at Filene's Basement (my favorite Cape haunt!). Yes I am aware that there are only four months left in 2006, but why not be organized for those last four months eh???

And, finally, after three years I got new glasses!!! Well, the purchasing of new glasses was kind of warranted since, last weekend, at the Cape after about 4 glasses of wine, I sat on them. Try as I might, I was not able to get the ear thingys back to their original form.

Sooooo what do we think?!?!?!?!!?!

They're Ferragamo's. And yes I realize that the over-sized Emerson College sweatshirt doesn't really go, but what can I say? It's freezing in the Design Room this afternoon!

I mean. I would even buy you a coffee.

So I'm taking a poll. You know...because I'm nosy like that.

Is it acceptable to fall asleep at work?

I mean. If you're out late the night before, or have to get up early for something, do you allow yourself some shut eye at the work place? There have been plenty of times when I have sauntered into work, hung over, sleep deprived and/or otherwise and have wanted to pass out right then and there. But I've never done it. Just never had the stones I guess. So, if Mr. Opportunity taps you on the shoulder and says, "Oh it's fine. Just close your eyes for fives minutes," do you do it?

Or do you carry around some No Doze and/or grab a cup of coffee from the coffee place two minutes away?

I think these polls are going to be part of my regular blogging habit. Just an FYI.