Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Only down South. Even South Jersey. Coffee? Check. Pack of gum? Check. Bag of ice? Check. Infectious disease injection? Check.

I wonder how many 25 cent raise increases the cashiers make once they are certified. Or if the flu shot is a little cheaper if they aren't certified.

Quote of the Weekend

Michael: "Who wants to play a game of 'Guess which kid fell in the lagoon first?"

Friday, May 27, 2011

Testament to 90 Degrees

Carrie: "I walked outside so now I'm swollen from heat and my pants are soooo tight. It hurts."

Me: "Really?"

Carrie: "I told you... I'm huge! I think I have loser jeans in my car. Might have to do a switcheroo."

Me: "Looser* Loser jeans would be even worse."


I could kinda sorta deal with some West Palm Beach action right about now. Where the temperatures outside are something you are prepared for and looking forward to. Just right there would be perfect.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Quote of the Day

Speaking about Mr. Tucker Max:

Carrie: "I'd love to punch that guy in the face... Along with every woman that has slept with him."

Me: "They have been punched by the STD fairy. (Pause) I wanna hang out with him!"

Carrie: "I'm gonna punch you in the face."

Thought of the Day

... I keep catching myself ALMOST belting Jewel out loud this afternoon. And Otis Redding...

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Quote of the Day

Me: "It's like finding out that your neighborhood physician is actually Dr. Joseph Mengele working for Hitler herself."

Magic Eyes

These make-up artists MAY have one up on me. But let's see how straight their eye liner comes out while bumping down the New Jersey Turnpike on a bus with shoddy shocks. Let's just call it a tie.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Quote of the Day

: "... I would never date me. hahaha. That's horrible."


I have a way with babies. No, really. Every time I've picked up my friend's son, he has shared his disappointment that it's me with flailing arms, instant waterworks and yelling. This weekend, however, we had a breakthrough. Maybe it was because his grandmother had him dressed in sweatpants running around in direct sunlight and heat and he was too dehydrated to think clearly. Maybe it was because I personally handed him a Sprite with a straw. Maybe it's because we played kickcatchfetchball for a few minutes. Really, the only thing I care about was that nobody was around to document it! Hating me or not, is he not one of the cutest kids you've ever seen?

Monday, May 23, 2011

Quote of the Day

R.G.: "Guess I am back on her radar. Bang bang she shot me down."

Friday, May 20, 2011

Pictures Before You Die (Tomorrow)

Everyone is so morbid about the impending END OF THE EARTH day tomorrow. People, have you SEEN the rain this week? It has not stopped. There is no second coming, holy wrath on its way. Mother Nature wants her ozone left alone.

Now that is chanting in my head. "OZONE. Left alone! OZONE. Left alone!" I should really pick up picketing!

This is a great compilation of "32 Pictures To See Before You Die." And if you don't die tomorrow, you may feel the urge to book it to your nearest animal shelter and try to replicate these shots at home. I am looking for Puggle slippers for dogs as I type.

Quote of the Day

Clare: " Just got my lunch I ordered... chocolate chip pancakes...holla..."

Thursday, May 19, 2011

It's Raining Commutes

Public Transportation: (
pub-lick trahnz-poor-tay-shun) n. 1. The act of submitting to a shared and unreliable schedule to get from starting point to designated end point. End points may shuffle en route depending on additional outside factors. 2. Cesspool that acts as a direct feeding ground for communicable diseases, nauseating odors and wildly unpredictable and uncomfortable personal and environment temperatures. 3. A cruel joke.

My morning's have been filled with delays and issues and unexplained mysteries, all thanks to the NJ Transit system. Well, in fairness, Mother Nature seems to be throwing in some colorful curve balls, and there are always the non-bus driver's looking for their fifteen minutes of car exploding, hair frying, fender bending fame. But I feel like putting blame where blame is due is the easiest way to focus my frustrations. The buses. Instead of speaking in general terms, allow me to be specific.

Monday morning. There is a steady flow of rain outside my window. I dress accordingly, grab my umbrella, and walk over to the bus stop. I am waiting on a fairly open and busy road. A road that I am sometimes so thankful for an ever-present breeze. In increasingly heavy rain, stagnant air still evades this street. Having gotten to the bus stop about ten minutes early, I earnestly hope that my bus will show up within the next ten minutes. I arrive early for no other reason that when I do not, it comes early. Anyone unamused by early arriving buses, feel free to contact and hire me to stand at the bus stop early. It is guaranteed to at least be on time. Monday morning, the bus was 25 minutes late. Thirty five minutes of sideways rain for me. I get on the bus, get one block down, someone gets off, another man gets on, and the bus's engine shuts off. This is new. Everyone is whispering, looking around. The people that naturally turn obviously to stare at every movement or potential movement are darting their heads around so often that I close my eyes. Our bus driver spent a few minutes on the phone, and then instructed all of us to get off of the bus. As we are shuffled out of the warm, muggy, dry bus, we pass by a large black container left on the bus by the person who had left the bus on that stop.

It looked like an old, inexpensive guitar case. But better safe that sorry? Right? Maybe? We walk another block down to wait for a different bus, and after minutes of appearing patient, I brusquely walk past and ahead of the herd. I have seen some of these people on the streets on New York City. Why are you taking baby steps in slow motion? Yes, I am aware that I am walking full speed ahead to more uncovered waiting ground, but certain speeds should be allowed only of the invalid or the drugged. Police cars shut down the main, windy road, and encircled the bus. I later saw the bus drive off, never to be spoken of again. I was probably on it the next morning.

The drive in was as to be expected. Slow, choppy and filled with buses waiting their turn to filter into a single lane. And then, after over 2 hours after I first positioned myself to brace the wind and still have a clear view of oncoming traffic, I arrive on the island of Manhattan. The city that never sleeps. I have heard that lack of sleep can cause serious long-term health risks and immediately short term personality issues. I believe what I have heard to be correct.

As I stepped out of the Port Authority, I was met with a barrage of angry umbrellas. Now, don't allow me to paint this picture of a dainty out-of-towner who couldn't imagine why someone wouldn't hold the door open for me and patiently allow me to open my umbrella. I have no qualms about how to play defense and offense in New York City. But between newly added scaffolding, what can only be described as torrential downpour and, by all appearances, a street filled with tweaking Methamphetamine addicts, I was attacked. Person after umbrella after person slammed into me, including a sweetheart of a man who body slammed me into a pole of scaffolding that shook and dumped water all down my back. I make it "safely" to the street corner. The five by six foot area of concrete on the corner of 40th and 8th Avenue. The corner where everyone who works south and/or east of the Port Authority s forced to push up against each other, I felt an umbrella vying for space with my own.

There are days where I hold my ground based on sheer spite. My umbrella was here first and I don't care that I am sliding on a subway grate right now, I will not relent. This was not one of those mornings. I just had nowhere else to move my umbrella too. There was no visible air space. So I was forced to grip my small umbrellas handle with both hands, shaky arms, and a very shaky sense of patience, while a grown man, with an over sized umbrella pushed into my own. The snap that soon followed was, of course, my own. And as the light turned green, and the pressure relented, water poured directly straight down inches from my face. And because of NYC's anonymity, and its lack thereof here, I will not share the verbal expressions that came out of my very polite mouth. And his only reply? A smirk. Because what is left to be said? I broke your umbrella in the pouring rain and you are looking like you have just went three rounds with Mike Tyson.

More like three transfers with the NJ Transit, buddy.

Quote of the Day

Carrie: "My coffee tastes a little like lemon Pledge."

Aly: "What did I tell you about putting the cleaning products in the fridge? That it can lead to both new and affordable culinary adventures."


A little Mandee's throwback... and just so true!

Wednesday, May 18, 2011


Meet Gracie. When I first met her, as a recent adoption at the local Stacy and clan residence, she looked like a dainty cartoon character. She was so thin, with these giant open eyes and she could have easily been mistaken for a Precious Moments figurine, had someone spray painted her and frozen her in place. Not in an animal cruelty kinda way. And last week, I was able to spend some quality time with her, but my first thought was definitely, "Oh my Lord! The cat looks so cat-y!' And my second thought was, "Hmmmm, I hear you are obsessed with paper. I know where you are coming from." And then I proceeded to torment or thrill her for hours with bits of paper rolled up or smushed together, or balled up. And as she chased and pawed and leaped after and ate these pieces, I eagerly rolled and smushed and balled up more for her.

*Paper Soulmate*

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Quote of the Day

Me: "Lunch. So I can grind some lettuce instead of my teeth."

Quote of the Day

Carrie: "My arms are sooooo itchy right now.
Dear god- I want to scratch them off!"

Me: "Why? Did you eat poison tsumac pie for lunch?"

Carrie: "I got my (allergy) shots."

Me: "OH! HAHAHAHA! Wasn't even close."

Monday, May 16, 2011


Warning: Falling asleep on my couch will result in... dog blanket! At least while other people are awake. Mojo tucked into Stacy's side. Marley gingerly clawed her way up Stacy's hip, scratched around to make her rib cage more satisfying and plopped her 25 pounds straight down. And everyone remained asleep. So deceivingly soundly. But had there not been a couple of us still awake, Marley would never have wasted her time just laying down. And sleeping? For.The.Weak. No, Marley would be skillfully opening zippers, breaking into side rooms, hunting down first chapstick and lip glosses, annihilating then moving on to general medication, disposable razors, gum and candy (notice these are about fourth on the list) and then if there's time, shredding every item that has ever touched or been near a greasy food product. But here, for now, look how cute they are!

Quote of the Day

Me: "True story, kid-a-ma-bob."

Jordan: "See, if I had any control in society, you'd be restrained and put into a special home for that comment. I don't even know what that means. And can barely read it."

Friday, May 13, 2011

Forty Things That Made Me Feel Old

Read'em and Weep

Kids don't know what rewinding is... Kurt Cobain's been dead for 17 years (That's a whole person!)... Bart Simpson is 31... A TV Guide cover from TWENTY years ago is Shannon Doherty for Beverly Hills, 90210...

Quote of the Day

Carrie: "A woman is sitting at home drinking a glass of wine on the porch with her husband and she says, 'I love you.' He asks, 'Is that you or the wine talking?/ She replies, 'It's me.....talking to the wine.'"

Wednesday, May 11, 2011


The goatee wearing, hipster loving, book fetish enthusiast working at "The Drama Bookshop" on 40th and 8th was not amused when I stared awkwardly at the all-too-high couch and then asked where I could kick back with a good book.

Whatever. I know you climb up there at night. And perform Juliet's lines with a thick British accent and tears flowing down your face.

Quote of the Day

Aly: "Can I sign my name on your wall in chocolate brown so it looks like maybe you are friends with a very talented monkey?"

Man- Can's

I may always first think back to the full breasted man across the aisle from me on the bus the other day. I was so thankful for my skilled peripheral vision, because my eyes were glued to his chest one way or another. I am not making fun of him. And maybe I don't even need to feel badly for him. Maybe he is the happiest, luckiest most sought after human being to walk this Earth. I hope so.

And I also hope that one of these days, some thirteen year old kid that I know can create and follow-through on their idea of anything awesome. (And by awesome, I mean profitable enough to afford me an occasional pity hand out for not being creative enough to think up scented candles on her own.)

Seriously, a thirteen year old boy thought up the idea for Man-Can's, scented candles designed for men, and a few that I wouldn't mind so much either. Bacon candles may be on my shopping list for gifts this holiday season. ESPECIALLY if someone I know starts making some serious cash or their own idea! Hint: Scented candle.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Quote of the Day

Scott: "...He is the President of a company with the word creative in its title
and then said, 'That's why we asked you in here. We aren't that creative.' Isn't that like false advertising?"

Photo of the Day

I shared this with some friends already, but then I thought, why deprive anyone in particular from found intelligence? I was walking around Hell's Kitchen last night, after escaping Hell incarnate, also known as The Port Authority dum dum dummmmm, and I was admiring the breeze and the fact that with each step I took, I was farther and farther from the Port Authority. I saw people walking their dogs, and only one breed repeatedly raced ahead tugging at their owners' arms: The Puggle. I remember when Marley used to do that to me. And then she got a taste of her own medicine with Mojo pulling like a sled dog running for life or death even though that means his front paws are always wildly flailing in their air in front of him. All of you troubled Puggle owners? I can loan you my Yorkie. Have them walk together, just one time. Your dog will never be the same. And I may change my phone number.

Back to the point: Listen up Pharmacy #229896702! Diabetics don't need latex gloves more than any other person. Stop classifying people like that. But in reference to the hot chocolate discount, that is totally on the money. There's nothing better for a diabetic that some good old fashioned sugar laden hot chocolate. Good job.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Quote of the Day

"So I just met with a CRAZY LESBIAN! Totally nuts- or maybe from Long Island..."

Gut Wretching

So every trial and tribulation I have endured surrounding taking mass transit as of late was trumped last night by the bravest person I know: my friend Shaun. His story is filled with such sheer horror that I feel compelled to write it down even as a third party right now so that I can look back to this whenever I think something unimaginably revolting has just happened to me or near me or somewhere in the general tri-state area. What is the worst, most vile, terrifying thing that you can imagine happening to you on a bus ride home?

Being shot would be fast. Peeing in your pants? I cant judge, I was moments away about two months ago. Give up?

Painting the picture... Shaun is sitting on his chosen seat, facing forward, minutes from his turn to reach up and push his stop button. Ear buds in, Droid in his hand, thinking about what he will eat for dinner hungrily... And then a man stands up in the aisle near you, with ample floor room in front and behind him. This man is even holding a coat. And this man proceeds to throw up all over- Shaun! On his head, in his clothes, in-between the cracks in his phone and through all of his many backpack pockets. That is right, folks- some strange man's internal bodily fluids were soaking into my friend's skin. And the man's apology? A stunned, silent stand still. The woman behind Shaun, who received more of a light spraying, took the lead in vocalizing what I can only imagine to be sheer repulsion be demanding he get off the bus for his own sake.

The bright side? The woman behind Shaun yelled out, "I don't wash my hair!"

"They" say when a bird poops on you, it is a sign of good luck. So when a man pukes on you, on the eve of your birthday, does that mean you should be playing the lottery today? Or getting vaccinated?

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Quote of the Day

There has been a long standing feud between my brother and I. He once called my eyes an unflattering name referring to their color. I retorted with the fact that our eyes are identical. And the feud continues...

Me: "Who's eyes are lighter? Mine or Jordan's?"

Aunt Brenda: "Jordan's."

Jordan: "Yes, they are like a hazel blue with a touch of brown."

Me: "Far from that."

Grandpa Alton: "Mine are pink!!"

Subway Superstar

I was trying to figure out what my Cinco De Mayo lunch would be, since I know that Margarita's are really difficult to get delivered. Why don't I live in Texas? There are so few days that I can actually craft into a theme, I wanted to take full advantage. For instance, I started my day off with a fruit and yogurt parfait. Fruit is colorful, like the Mexican flag. And a great person, Sonthia, decided to throw some more doubt into my mix.

Sonthia: "I have an orchard chicken salad sandwich from Subway! It's this month's $5 foot long. I had it for the first time last year (seasonal) and loved it!"

And I suppose right after I praised her realistic impersonation of someone getting paid to promote this food product, she hit a home run in sales. I need to sit down with her for some tactical training. She sent me this:

Totally made my day! Thank you, Subway!

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Quote of the Day

Melissa: "Amanda finally one trivia!"

Me: "You mean 'won'? Good for him."

Melissa: "Amanda is a she."


I just spent five solid, long minutes wondering why this ditty wasn't singing smoothly in my head:

"The best part of my day is Folgers in my cup!"

I had to let the calm, muscle memory of over-played commercials wash over my sense of awareness in what I just experienced to be the closest thing to meditation. And it came to me.

Waking up!!

Is this why people meditate? Is it all motivation for your brain to give you answers? Where are my spare keys? Where is my phone bill? What is my neighbor's girlfriends name who always wants to stop and chat but I can't for fear it will somehow come up that she rates below people I see once a year, let alone four times a week?

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Quote of the Day

Melissa: "How do you dispose of metal hangars?"

Me: "You beat kids with them. Until they disintegrate."