Direct Quote

Husband after winning play of the World Series: Our child will be born into a better world where Philadelphia is the World Series Champ.

I married a crazy man....

My Sloppy American Husband, My Crazy Father and My Grandmother, the Dirty Old Lady

I used to say that I had a sexy European boyfriend and now I have a sloppy American husband.  This was primarily because he discovered he really likes to wear his shirts untucked and is unnaturally attached to his GAP hoodie.  This year the American husband has taken on a whole new hobby.  He decided he likes baseball.  So I am currently sitting on the couch held captive in our 1100 square feet by the World Series.  I'm holding out hope that the fascination has more to do with the Phillies than baseball.  

On a random side note, I would like to also complain about people without manners.  Today I was standing with 3 coworkers around 5PM. There was a woman there ahead of us who had hit the down button.  In our building the elevators don't stay open very long and if you happen to be standing on the wrong side of the elevator bank then you really have to hustle to get to the elevator before the doors shut.  So the elevator comes, the lady jumps in and as we're walking toward her the doors start to shut.  So I reached out on my way past the call button, hit the down button again to reopen the doors and said, "Oh, for real?".  At which point I walked onto the elevator in my 8 month pregnant glory and shot her a dirty look.  She stared at the buttons (in shame...or at least I like to think she did).

I can look past it when people pretend they don't see you and let the door close within inches of you getting there.  I can even forgive them when they look at the floor as the doors close instead of looking you in the eye.  But, to walk into the elevator that everyone has been waiting for and let it shut on people is a sign that you have been raised by wild animals.  Animals.  And not the cute furry kind that people like. 

This made me think of the time my father went postal on some woman at Costco.  I can only relay the story second hand as I wasn't privileged enough to be present.  He and my mother were in line to return a sweater. In front of them a woman was returning a half used sleeve of disposable plates, some opened plastic flatware, a 5lb tub of potato salad with a few scoops out of it and a carrot cake with 2 slices missing.  Costco apparently doesn't ask questions they just take the return to make everyone happy.  The returned food went directly in the trash.  My father was horrified that this woman was clearly returning the half used leftovers of a party.  So he called her a skank. Out loud. To her face. (I find this mildly amusing since skank is one of my favorite words)  He also announced to the entire customer service line that that woman was the reason why prices were so high everywhere and she should be ashamed of herself.

I only have one question.  Am I going to be that crazy screaming person someday?

I also vividly recall going to a restaurant with him last year in the middle of the winter and after about 35 people had walked in and stood with the door open (freezing everyone in the restaurant) he had endured enough and screamed at them, "What part of Jersey are you from, shut the damn door...".  It was a bit like a blanket of silence descending on the entire restaurant.  My friend from NY thought it was funny. I was mortified. My mother didn't seem phased.  I really couldn't argue, they were a bunch of dumb asses standing there in 10 degree weather with the door open.  But again, the better question is - will I someday be that crazy?

I highlight our dinner table conversation Sunday night as proof that insanity and embarrassment has a long history in my family.

My cousin had come to look at my grandmother's legs.  She has a history of some sort of skin cancer and we asked him to come check out a lump on her leg since he's a dermatologist.  He stayed for dinner.  My grandmother had other plans.  She wanted to sleep.  She only stayed awake because she heard we were going to have dessert.  The only thing she likes more than sleeping is eating cake.

Grandmother (after dessert): I'm going to sleep now

My Father (teasing her because he's like that): He's going to wake you up every 4 hours to check your leg.

Grandmother: What the hell for?

My Father: You heard him, we have to keep an eye on it.

Grandmother: Oh, I thought I was going to get a piece.

Seriously? Does she even know what that means?  She can't remember her own name yet she somehow has the wherewithal to be a dirty old woman.

Maybe I'm the milkman's kid...

Dear Friends,

I write to you on behalf of my poor friend in Virginia with nothing to do. She’s going through a rough patch at work and is bored out of her mind. Typical in our crappy industry, we hit periodic stretches of downtime that make you want to beat your head against the wall. Sure it sounds fun to sit around and do nothing and get paid. In fact it is fun…for about 6 hours.

In that time you’ve responded to all your email, caught up with your long lost friends, ordered every book online you’ve ever wanted, scheduled all those overdue doctor’s appointments and now you’re staring at the news tickers willing something interesting to happen so that you have something to read.

So I beg of you….give her something to read. She actually sent me a harassing email asking me if I was ever going to post again because she needs something to read. So really, you would be doing me a favor as well (since I have nothing to say lately and she seems to be getting desperate). I’ve included below a list of the blogs that I’ve sent her to date and those that I just pulled together. Please – she needs some new material!

Already sent:
www.dooce.com
http://bartlebysunite.tumblr.com

And here are a few more I haven’t sent her yet:
http://www.catherinette.com/
http://www.gawker.com
http://15minutelunch.blogspot.com
http://thelastpsychiatrist.com
http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/
http://www.waiterrant.net
http://theassimilatednegro.blogspot.com

So please, leave your favorite blogs and sites in the comments – anything as long as it doesn’t involve shopping online. She will thank you, her husband will thank you.

Happy reading!

Don't Forget Your Spandex...

As usual I've been absent from this blog although this time I have an excuse.  I was in South Beach with two of my girlfriends for a long weekend.  Despite some bad weather that was forecasted we had a really relaxing trip.  

Our itinerary was basically some slight variation of this:

10AM: Drag self out of comfy bed to put on bathing suit

10:30: Reserve chaise lounges by the pool, eat breakfast at poolside restaurant

11AM - 2:30PM: sun, pool, sun, read, pool, sun, nap, nap, nap

2:30: eat lunch at poolside restaurant

3PM-5PM: sun, pool, sun, read, nap, sun

5PM-7PMish: relax, shower, get dressed

7:30: Drinks somewhere

9PM: Dinner somewhere

11PM: Drinks somewhere

12 Midnight: Home to bed

It was several very lazy and relaxing days in the sun.  We also ate pretty well.  Between my friend who did most of the planning and the concierge we had some really good reservations.

The first night we ate at La Marea at The Tides Hotel.  We had a great table out on the terrace where I had an excellent view of the drag queens next door. 

The night after we had a drink in the courtyard of the Setai.  This was hands down the most gorgeous hotel we saw the entire trip, followed by dinner at Blue Door over at the Delano.  Really great dinner with the exception of the torrential downpour next to our table.  The risotto more than made up for it.

The last night we hit up Nobu in the Shore Club.  The food was good but the whole place was a little worn out.  Yes, I ate sushi, don't judge.

A few notes about South Beach.  Really spectacular art deco buildings, really spectacularly skanky women.  The women are in terrific shape with clothing they procured at Sluts R Us.  I felt like I was in a more humid version of Wildwood, NJ.  The men were less than spectacular - I saw more than one guy around the pool with an all weather sweater.  The hair sweater is never a good pool side visual...

Fatty, Fatty 2x4

Yesterday I realized it is becoming difficult to put on socks and today I picked something up off the floor with my toes because it was just easier that way.  God help us all.

Random Crap and How to Damage your Child in Three Easy Steps

Since I am not very entertaining these days, here are a few random thoughts from this increasingly random pregnant woman. (Don't whine, the other alternative is to hear me bitch about baby crap. People, you have no frickin clue how over the top, ugly, expensive and totally unnecessary most of this stuff is...I digress.) Let's move this along.

Stuff to Do or Stuff to Look At:
Here's something for you to do while bored at work (compliments of my friend up north). I scored a miserable 29. Frickin eastern Europeans...

Another gem from her...you have to love a company whose slogan is - "when you care enough to hit send" http://www.someecards.com Since we have all settled in nicely to this lazy world of having our Outlook remind us of people's birthdays and then managing to type less than 300 characters into an ecard, this works out quite well for anyone who is moderately hateful as well as lazy.

And a funny site that is updated infrequently but it's funny as hell: http://bartlebysunite.tumblr.com/

What I've been up to:
Last week I wore a new sweater. By 9AM I looked like I got into a violent fight with a Persian cat. The cat won. By 10 it was in my eyes and floating around my office. I dug out my lint roller (travel size and not terribly effective) and proceeded to roll my belly. I'm quite certain anyone who saw it was probably equal parts curious and horrified.

I had the following conversation with one of my co-workers last week:
Me: Am I a bad mother if I don't have a nursery theme?
Her: You know how I feel about this.
Me: Seriously, the kid can't see more than 4 inches in front of it's face, it's not going to notice the lack of decoration
Silence
Me: Fine
I now own something in green and yellow for the "girl-ish" child.

This past weekend we went shooting. I considered the following logic in advance - when I am underwater and I hear someone it sounds muffled like Charlie Brown's teacher. I figure that's probably the way everything sounds to the kid. So I decided to go shooting. After a crap first round I started to shoot a little better. 2/3rds of the way through the second round I decided to look up pregnancy and shooting on the iPhone. Ah, one of many mistakes - right up there with reading about birth defects. I have now sucked in an undetermined amount of toxic lead and made my child deaf and potentially mentally retarded. I have decided to ignore this for the same reason I ignore those people that tell me if I have an occasional glass of wine that my child will come out with eyes on the side of its head like a carp.

And so we ended the weekend with dinner with the fam. My father decided to make everyone cocktails. His cocktails are usually a double plus by any standard and consist of alcohol and more alcohol. My mother had already had a glass of wine while cooking (a "small" one she says, we don't really believe that) when she decided to also consume a gin martini. Sitting at dinner the conversation went something like this:

Mother (to my husband): Oh! You have such nice hair color.
Husband: Yes, it's for the fall.
Mother (to my brother-in-law): Oh! You have really thick hair. And you have nice color too.
Brief Pause
Mother (to no one in particular): Oh! I think I'm a little drunk.

Then later we lost my grandmother. She disappeared to go to the bathroom and after 15 minutes someone asked if anyone knew where she was.

Mother (yelling to my grandmother): Mom, where are you?
No Answer
Mother: Mom, are you there?
Grandmother: I'm here, I'm wasn't sleeping, I was shitting.
Huh??

Well that clears up everything...