Welly Wonder Woman

Nothing makes me feel more invincible than my Hunter boots. They are $115 worth of pure rubber power freedom. No longer must I worry about the bottom of my jeans brushing against the cold, wet ground and becoming soaked. No longer must I stand on the corner like a moron carefully dipping my tippy-toe into the mystery puddle to test its depth, nor be forced to walk a couple of blocks out of my way to find a lagoon-less walkway, nor get a running start and attempt to jump over the slushy brook. No longer am I held back by precipitation.

Now, with my magic boots, I plow through puddles and snow, stomping around wherever I please. I’m like an off-roader, and if you get in my way... watch out. Just because you decided to wear loafers in the wintry mix and therefore must walk with trepidation, does not mean I have to stand patiently behind you while you navigate your way across the street. Get some industrial waterproof footwear or stay home...

Top Ten

Blowfish testicles sicken 7 diners in Japan

Top ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Japan really takes this fish eating thing quite seriously

9) Blowfish are apparently extremely poisonous. If you want to live on the edge... Jump out of a plane. Do not eat something that if prepared even minutely wrong could kill you in an hour and a half.

8) May I suggest a minor edit.... Blowfish testicles sicken 7 MORONS in Japan

7) Have we really run out of things to eat on this planet? Now we eat fish testicles?

6) How exactly could eating fish testicles not be sickening?

5) Ugh, knew I shoulda gotten the king cobra ovaries instead

4) Did I know fish even had testicles?

3) I guess if you’re going to eat testicles, the fish might as well be called a blowfish

2) Yep, somewhere in the world, testicles rank as a delicacy

And the number 1 reason this is a great headline...

1) Could you imagine walking into a restaurant... And for you Miss? I’ll have the raw Blowfish balls.

Oh baby, baby

Other people’s life milestones update: One of my oldest friends is probably going to have her first baby this week. Well, the probably qualifier only applies to the “this week”... She is more than likely going to have the baby. It’s the first friend baby for me, therefore it is a big deal. I have lived through the friend engagements and friend marriages, now comes friend babies. It’s awesome, and exciting and weird... Since I knew you back when this outcome on the little pregnancy stick, or having to use one at all (I actually do believe you made someone else buy it), might not have been exactly what was hoped for. Obviously we’re all in a different place now (although not sure if ‘all’ includes me...). I suppose this is the natural progression, and have prepared myself for the fact that my friends will begin to reproduce (as you can see I’m handling it quite well, ie, clinically vs emotionally), however, I am not quite sure where I will eventually rate on the mushiness scale (come check with me again next week after I see the little monster). If my escapades in greeting card hunting are any indication... I’m in trouble...

I went to 6 drug stores in search of an acceptable gift bag to put my very well thought out, creative, and supertastic (because it’s clearly all about ME) baby gift in. All of them had ugly plain bags, and one adorable bag... For baby girls. Jeez, couldn’t she just be having a girl so that I could get this bag and call it a day? (yep, all about me). Finally, I drag my friend Katie into a mega-stationary store and we locate the perfect bag, tissue paper... Oh and don’t I need a card? Yes, but which one? There are ones with tiny little baby photos on them, little shoes, blue stork illustrations. There are ones that have long winded poems about how this is the best thing that has ever happened to you and you are so blessed... Your life will never be the same... There’s an angel in your home...Your precious baby that you’ve carried and nurtured in your belly... Forever changed by this wonderful gift of life. Really?? I might throw up reading those and I’m not even pregnant. Can’t we just cut to the chase? Congratulations on popping out that kid!? I know for birthdays they sell cards “from sister”, “from parents”... do they not sell you’re having a baby cards from your single friend?...

Guess I'm not a morning person after all

I suppose when you do the same thing everyday at the same time, there is the potential to meet the same people and form some sort of odd “we do the same thing everyday” friendship. I wouldn’t know, however, because I do the same thing everyday and nobody wants to talk to me ever... Yet I digress. This morning I had to be at the office at 7am, which translates to 6:15am at the bus stop. Upon arrival, I see a bus passing on the other side, in the opposite direction, and assume it’ll only be a short couple of minutes wait. However, this one woman shows up and says to me “oh you’re early for the 6:33...” Huh? You know what time the buses come? When I normally leave my house every morning around 8:30, I just go. I couldn’t tell you what the bus schedule is to save my life. I didn’t even know they came on a schedule... I thought it was just dumb luck! I looked at her like she had 5 heads and told her I had no idea what time the buses come. Apparently, I just missed the 6:13. Ok whatever smarty pants...

But I’d just seen one going the other way and it certainly wasn’t going to take 18 minutes for it to go 2 blocks and turn around? No, no, it comes at 6:33. FINE. More people start arriving and I begin to realize that they were a little 6:33am bus clique. They all said hello to each other and chatted about current events. Who wants to be that friendly before 8am? Well... Clearly not I (probably why I have no “bus stranger” friends) because one woman was commenting on how Michelle Obama’s inaugural dress looked like she was going to a prom and should have been more stylish... And all I could think in my head was, ok lady... You mean as stylish as your green and yellow amoeba patterned windbreaker that you’re wearing with the hood up...? Everyone’s a critic...

I broke my apartment,... again

As if seeing 5:30 am wasn’t hard enough on me after a week of being on vacation and then another week of five half-hearted and unsuccessful attempts at dragging my ever growing behind to the gym, this morning when I finally said enough is enough and got out of bed... My toilet decided to explode. I flushed, turned around, and stood frozen and wide eyed as Niagara Falls POURED out of the back pipe that ideally should have been connected to the toilet yet apparently was no longer. I have never seen that much water, that quickly, with that much velocity. As I stood there dumbfounded, there was a tiny split second, before I realized that it had stopped, when I could feel nothing short of sheer panic. It truly sounded like the river wild in my bathroom. I thought I had explained this correctly to my super... Pipe in the back detached, exploded... Water... Everywhere. Yet when he arrived with his plumber? friend, before I knew what they were up to, they flushed the toilet and I had to experience the whole thing again. He just stared at me laughing, while standing in an inch of toilet water,... and traumatized as I was... All I could manage was “guess I should have told you not to do that...”

After this and my shower woes last year... I think I should seriously consider getting flood insurance, or some swimmies...

A catastrophe

Kevin: whoa your kitty icon is different!
Jessica: new year, new cat
Jessica: my computer got upgraded and my old cat couldn't keep up
Kevin: the pounds are overflowing because of that
Kevin: newest upgrades leave 50% of housecats obsolete
Jessica: it's a serious problem
Kevin: you can tell if your cat cannot handle the upgrade if it freezes in place and meows repeatedly, or falls down and goes to sleep unexpectedly
Jessica: or gets replaced by new and improved cat
Jessica: funny story, i actually located a cat very close to my old cat
Jessica: however after i posted it, Andrei was like... is your cat smoking a cigarette?
Jessica: and i was like um.. i don't think so, i think it's drinking coffee
Jessica: however, upon further review... cat was definitely smoking, so now we have this cat
Kevin: what is this one doing? its hard to tell
Jessica: not really sure... there are very limited cartoon cat icons out there
Jessica: the demand fully outweighs the supply
Kevin: ah HA! just found a business opportunity
Jessica: yea get on that
Kevin: the blue cat AOL icon biz

What's in a name anyway?

My co-worker Lauren and I were attempting to pry out of our other co-worker the proposed name for his soon to be born son. He rightfully wouldn't give anything up, but we were able to coax out the first letter of the name, which fortunately was enough to amuse us for the next 45 mins. The name will start with an "S"... so here are our suggestions/guesses...

Simon
Stewart
Siegfried
Sebastian
Skeet
Slater
Stromboli
Spike
Snoopy
Sven
Seabert
Sherlock
Sparky

and then there was Andrei's contribution...

Skeletor

I see a lot of potential on this list. Personally I'm pulling for Stromboli.

From New Moon to Full Moon

I'm commuting home with one of my co-workers this evening on the M79 bus, when all of a sudden she is overcome with uncontrollable laughter. I have no idea what she's laughing at, but I'm laughing because she's laughing... and then I see it. This poor man has made his way in between us and half of his ass is fully hanging out of his pants. How unfortunate. What exactly is proper etiquette when faced with this situation? I'm almost positive it's not laughing like a 5 year old, but that seems to be my go-to solution to everything these days. He continues to back up into the spot between our seats and at this point we cannot even look at each other. Am I on "what would you do?" Doesn't he feel a breeze... downwind? Finally our stop appears and someone getting off drops her newspaper on the floor in front of him.... oh god... please no...

In other news, I was randomly telling some of my co-workers today about my upstairs neighbor who is old and bald, has 2 white fluffy dogs, and insists on having loud, shake the walls, make everyone in the building uncomfortable sex ALL THE TIME. I've seen this guy... ain't nobody THAT good. However these girls carry on and make noises that I didn't even realize could come out of a human being. I actually hadn't heard it in a while, until just now. I can hear it right now and it's making me so unhappy. I think I'll go shower in bleach now. See what I did, I cursed myself. I hate my life...

I... just... can't... stop

I promised that I wasn’t going to get sucked into these Twilight books. Everyone was bonkers over them, gushing and freaking out. That so wasn’t going to be me. And it wasn’t... Until I started reading it. Jesus, these books are like crack. You would need the jaws of life to pry me out of this. I finished the first one while we were down in Florida and honestly wasn’t sure how I was supposed to go on living without the second one. Meredith didn’t realize how fast I would complete book one, and didn’t bring book two. Mer-gency! So one night at about 9:15, we embarked out to Barnes and Noble which closed at 10PM. Except we went the wrong way on Tamiami, and as the clock creeped closer to 10, I began to silently hyperventilate. Finally at 9:52 we arrive, rabid for the book, and the poor sales guy who probably thought we were going to eat him (no vampire pun intended) points us toward the Stephanie Meyer shrine. Ahh... I can start breathing again now...

What in the hell is wrong with me!? I am now THAT girl. I’m on page 514 of 563, and it is taking all of my collective self control to not grab the book that is sitting next to me on my desk right now and go hide in the bathroom for an hour. It’s like an addiction; I cannot stop thinking about it. My entire purpose in life this week, since I cannot seem to acclimate myself back into my work/life routine at all, is to read this book. Literally I wake up everyday just to be with Edward. This year is off to a fabulous motivational start...

Can someone please install a sunlamp above my desk?

What is up with this work thing? It only took me 2 measly weeks to completely forget how much it stinks to have responsibilities. I can’t lie, I don’t really feel like doing anything I used to do. Not getting up at 5:30am to go to the gym; not going to work; not doing work; not cooking dinner; and definitely not doing the same exact thing again tomorrow. Instead, I keep zoning out, pretending I’m still sitting on the beach and putting moisturizing lotion on my arms because it smells like Banana Boat...

Over the last couple of days, I have been in serious beach withdrawal. My Vitamin D levels have plummeted through the floor and I can feel my tan starting to quickly fade. I think I am going to wear every piece of white clothing that I own this week in a helpless attempt to prolong the illusion of my utter tan godliness.

When I got to work yesterday, my friend Lauren was like “I actually cannot believe you let yourself get that tan.” Let myself?? Shit, I worked really hard on this!! If I didn’t come back looking like mud, it wasn’t a successful vacay.

I have also been in serious Meredith and Jay withdrawal. I would almost volunteer to go back to Four Oaks, NC, just to hang with my road trip buds for a bit longer. Is it possible to be a professional vacationer? If so, I need to get myself that job...

You’re in charge, chief…

After 14 or so hours in the car, Meredith, Jay and I decided to finally sleep in Virginia. There was some slight contemplation regarding going all the way home and setting a new record, but the 3 of us were practically zombies so that was quickly squashed. We chose a Hampton Inn right off 95 for our slumber. Meredith and I were delirious, like children who were completely overtired and of course walked in laughing like hyenas and causing a scene with the lady behind the counter, who also happened to not be shocked that we were from New York. I don’t understand. Who knew I was SO NY? Do I have a NY accent? What is it that makes me so conspicuous? Meanwhile Jay is schlepping all of our bags, as he put it “we’re gonna be here for 6 hours and you guys brought 14 pounds of luggage.” I wish that sleep was more welcome at this point, but after driving 10 hours and being in the car another 4, when I closed my eyes, all I saw was the road. Driving behind Jay is like playing a video game. It’s either really exhilarating, or devastatingly nauseating. Switching lanes, speeding up, weaving, looking for openings, cruising, driving in the HOV lane when he’s the only one in his car… I closed my eyes and felt like I was still in Nascar….

After our rest, we hit the road again and made it home at around 4 PM on Saturday. Man it is cold here. Que el fucko? I think I can already feel my tan fading. I’m miserable. The second we pulled into my driveway, I wanted to turn around and go back. Great trip. Great, great trip. Now, does anyone want to come over and unpack for me?…

Come on, Let’s go Tank…

I was worried that the ride home wouldn’t be as exciting as the ride down. We weren’t planning on stopping as much and the drive could definitely get long. If by long, you mean 19 hours. However this time we were riding in tandem with Jay… well until he gets sick of us and decides to lose us on 95. The probability of that being unfortunately quite high, even though we weren’t even all in the same car. We left at 6am, grabbed coffee, gas, and were on our way. About an hour and a half into the ride Meredith had to pee. Jay is not going to like this. So she calls him and says in the sweetest and most innocent voice, “Jay, do you have to pee yet?” Strike one. About 400 miles later, we passed an outlet shopping center that had Gucci and Coach, so again we phoned Jay. “Jay… do you need a Gucci bag? Strike two. Starting to doubt that he thinks we’re cute. 10 hours of driving, avoiding one truck that tried to kill me, and one fuckface in a white van who slammed on his breaks in the left lane and almost killed all of us, and I’ve earned my stripes as a fledgling truck driver. I’m applying as soon as I get home. All I can say is that at least I didn’t make a resolution to not cut anybody off… because I broke that one many, many times…

We made it as far as North Carolina before we decided to stop for some grub and we got our wish. We dined at The Four Oaks Grill in Four Oaks, NC. Imagine the most Podunk roadside diner that you can think of, and that’s where we were. I can’t fathom what these small town folk were thinking when we walked in. Actually I can. It’d be something like if I was at Bloomingdales and aliens got off a spaceship and started shopping. My meal consisted of a grilled cheese sandwich and “freedom” fries. Everything was delicious and $3.75… total. If I lived there, I’d be freakin rich! Meredith and I did our usual act like you’re 5 and laugh until you cry for the complete sake of being immature as Jay begged “please don’t get us kicked out of here, I’m starving” I composed myself while I ate, until I heard our waitress, who was standing at another table, call out “are those guys ganging up on you, pa?” Pa? Oh my god, I’m in little house on the praire…

It smells like Chanukah…

Meredith and I were like nomads this week. I think we’ve showered and/or stayed over at about 4 different people’s apartments over the course of our adventure. For New Year’s we left the west coast of Florida and headed across the state to Meredith’s friend Peri’s in Pompano Beach. Our objective was to go to the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood for some fabulous ushering in 2009 festivities. That too was the objective of many, many other people who had obviously either left their taste at home or never had any to begin with. Some of the get ups, er, shitastic outfits, I saw, should have been forcibly removed and burned. A white snakeskin pantsuit? Honey, please. Then there was the woman who would have seriously benefited from wearing some pants… we all definitely didn’t need to see her cooter while we were eating. Other than that, and the fact that Peri accidentally lit the menu on fire and burnt a huge hole through it, dinner was pretty uneventful.

There was some drinking, some gambling, some dancing, some more drinking, then apparently our friend Amy decided that she couldn’t live without more gambling, told us she was going to the bathroom and snuck back to the blackjack tables. When Meredith texted her to find out which bathroom she was in, Amy replied “fdobt know.” Aren’t drunk text messages great?! The next thing we knew, it was 4am, our feet were killing us and Meredith was getting yelled at for trying to walk through the casino barefoot. Her next plan was to sit in the foodcourt in literally any empty chair regardless of who was already at the table. This plan required her to make friends with them, which she did, while also eating their pizza. She was so skilled at this, that she is even BlackBerry Messenger friends with one of them now. $100 she never talks to that girl again… $200 in a month she asks me “who the fuck is Maria?...