Friday, April 18, 2008
So yesterday class was cancelled, and I decided to go to the gym. After 30 minutes on the elliptical machine I figured if I was paying a million dollars and eleven cents a month for this gym membership than I might as well take a class. So there was a Yoga class on the schedule and I said to myself "Eh, can't be that bad." That was until I had my ankles behind my ear and was standing on one leg. Are they kidding? Nobody should be able to twist their body in ways that this man made us last night. I felt like a member of cirque de soleil. So after an hour and a half of downward dog and warrior pose I was done. I was so sore and my limbs were like jelly and all I kept thinking is I can not wait to take it again. I am either a sucker for punishment or I am hoping I can use some of these moves in the bedroom.
So something happened to me that made me realize life is scary sometimes. I was cleaning the house yesterday and I grabbed my products liability textbook to put burn in the fireplace (just kidding) actually to just move it to the bedroom. When as I was walking in my white athletic socks slipped on the Mexican rug and flew across the living room. The scariest thing was I could have broke my chin open because I fell face forward onto the wood floor. The good thing is the textbook saved me. If it didn't I was definitely going to use to help me sue the company that made the Mexican rug for defective design trust me. I got up bruised up on both knees and a little shaken up. Thoughts of me falling on the coffee table and cracking my head open flashed in my mind. I mean what would spike do? Would he try to alert the neighbors or just eat me while I lie on the floor. Nevertheless, I called the midwestern and he asked "Do you need to go to the hospital?" No, I just needed a hug but I did not know how to explain that - Guys just don't get it. So I just went back to watching the High School Reunion Marathon. And I took off those damn athletic socks too.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
So if anyone knows me well enough they are aware of my guilty pleasure of realty TV. I figure after spending years studying hours of endless boring case law and regulations I deserve it. I need to not use my brain cells and watch crazy people make complete fools of themselves on tv. The midwestern also tells me that somehow I get joy out of watching people with really f&*cked lives. Maybe it is because then my petty life issues will not seem so bad anymore. So when the midwestern came home late last night from pulling overtime at work, he was surprised to see I was still awake. That was until he realized why. Not because I am the sweet fiancee that waits up for her man, but I was waiting for another man. Bret Michaels. I sat and watched the season finale of Rock of Love, and tried to guess what in the world he saw in Daisy. The girl seemed like she was high on something at all times.Not to mention her eyebrows were non existent. But then I saw what I am sure Bret fell in love with her fake boobs and over collagened mouth. Love is not skin deep. But at 1:30 am in the morning I was shocked when he chose the less attractive girl but much smarter one, see and they say nice girls finish last. But my favorite part of the night was when they started playing Poison songs in the background and all of sudden I hear....."I wasn't looking for rock of like or rock of lust. I was looking for a Rock of Love." Yes, Bret me too! The end result is the midwestern and I have decided to make these our wedding vows. Now the question is would it be weird to say it while playing "Living on a Prayer" in church. Does that break the 80's hair band rule? Not sure, but if anyone knows please let me know.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
I laughed when I first learned of the McDonald's case where the woman sued McDonald's for her burns when she spilled coffee on herself. Firstly, the facts of the case were outrageous because she was driving and she put the cup of coffee in her lap. I definitely can think of easier ways to not have kids. But this morning, I finally understood why she sued. I went upstairs to my coffee room to get my instant Flavia coffee. If anyone does not know what that is, it is the machine where it takes these packets and sucks them up, eats them, and spits out coffee. It is pretty amazing and provides endless entertainment for the corporate world. So after I get my coffee I decide it is too full and I need to spill some out. Except I obviously mistook myself for a sink. Before I could scream "Attorney", the scalding coffee burned my delicate olive skin and I am positive created 3rd degree burns. If it didn't, well then it sure felt like it burnt through at least two layers of epidermis. And after running cold water on my hand which actually I think is the worst thing you can do. The first thing that came to mind was "Damn I hate that Flavia company". Even though it was obviously my fault, I still felt this psychotic anger toward this company. Which makes no logical sense, but logic at this point disappeared like the hair folicles that were seared off my skin. This coffee company probably has a headquarter office in Topeka, Kansas and has no idea that there is this clumsy law clerk in NYC that just bathed in what felt like volcanic acid. So as I sit here writing this blog entry I am also gathering my thoughts for a letter to Flavia and how they should lower the temperature of their coffee or put warning labels such as: "Please do not rub hot liquids on your skin because it may hurt as much as cutting your limbs off with a butter knife". So here I am using my $150K lawyer skills and writing a letter claiming defective coffee. Thank you J.D.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Purses are a wonderful item. They hold our prized possessions like condoms, make up, blackberry, wallet, even shoes. I rely on my purse to dress up an outfit or to beat off nasty guys at the club. Sometimes I love my purse so much I take it with me to walk the dog because you never know if your going to run into the cute guy with the doberman. But ladies our purse does not need its own seat on the train. I know it may seem tired from all the hard work of carrying all our stuff but it really could fit nicely on our lap. As a matter of fact it prefers to be nestled on our laps where it is close to us. It appreciates this intimacy. So unless your at Daniel where Mr. Boulud is nice enough to provide seating for your significant accessory, keep your freaking bag off the train seat so my big ass can sit down.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
So I hate line dancing. The chicken dance, macarena, electric slide have all been banned from the wedding. I even told the DJ to remove all disco, if I hear Abba or Donna Summers someone is going down. But back to line dancing. The idea of 50 guests lined up doing the dollar dance scares me. It brings back all terrible memories of worst weddings ever. However, in order to change it up a notch. I am thinking of maybe having my bridesmaids and I do this dance at the wedding. Why? 1) Because I love the song 2) Because I can do it better than these guys 3) To give my future MIL a heart attack. So bitsandgiggles I think MOH will agree now all we have to do is convince the Russian and we are set.
So after putting myself further into debt yesterday I figured it no longer mattered any more. I grabbed the credit card and said to hell with it. Screw the ice sculpture mama's buying herself a new pair of shoes. So I start the marathon. I traveled all of the Hoboken designer boutiques buying handmade jewelry, patent leather clutches, but still no shoes. I even picked up a chunky bangle that will probably be worn once, but no shoes. You see I needed a pair of green shoes. Not green camo but a nice sexy money green. The new colors for spring/summer this season in case anyone missed the latest edition of Vogue are bright colors like yellow, blue, green, pink and even orange in some areas. I already owned a pair of hot pink and I wanted something different. So I decided on green. So in my mind I am thinking pointy toe patent leather green stilettos. At this point, I am so far into debt I have decided I am wearing this dress with all the accessories for my bridal shower, the rehearsal in Chicago, maybe even bitsandgiggles' graduation. Damn I may even sleep in the dress tonight (with the necklace, clutch, earrings and bangle too - well if I need to be rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night at least I will be dressed fashionably). So finally I find them - and they are perfect (so we didn't find pumps but with a 4 inch heel who cares). Ahh, amazing what a new pair of shoes will do to a woman's self esteem. So here I am walking home with numerous bags and fearing I will run into the Midwestern. Too late...He looks at me from the corner. I try to hide between the liquor store and the brownstone. Maybe I can run in a get a bottle of grey goose to wallow in my sorrows after I examine my receipts? Sh*T, I've been caught. He turns and stares at me with the same look of disgust that Elizabeth Sue gave Nicolas Cage in the mall scene. "Will we be able to pay the mortgage this month?" I look at him with this face of pity and remorse, and whisper in his ear. "Probably not."
When I woke up yesterday the weather was gorgeous and I finally felt like spring had arrived. So what better way to celebrate the spring but with shopping. Most people would think this is no big deal except with me it is different. You see its like putting an alcoholic in a brewery. I love to shop but my problem is I don't shop cheap. I am not sure if it is because I somehow want to believe I am rich or I feel like I should be rich, or maybe it is just because I like nice things. But "NO", see it is more than that. I like the way it feels to walk into a store and not look at the price tag, and to have the sales person cater to me like I am Ivanka Trump. If anyone has been to the shoe department in Nordstrom they know what I mean. The salespeople come over with 10 boxes of shoes of all different styles and colors and you feel like Leona Helmsley. And even though the only reason they like you is because they work off commission - who cares. Because the only reason why you are there is because you somehow have sunken to an ultimate low in your self esteem and need some reassurance as to why you are on this planet. Thus bringing me to yesterday's shopping spree. I decided to check out my neighborhood boutiques, not realizing two things 1) Hoboken residents have a sh*T load of money 2)We have someone become Soho while I was sleeping. I walk into the first shop and I should have seen the red flags when I picked up a dress that said Badgley Mischka. But I hate to be seen looking at price tags and running out. So I play cool as if I own ten of those, and keep browsing. It wasn't until the lady decided to ask me if I needed help that I froze. She looks at me and says "You are a size 2 right"? Damn your good. I didn't want to tell her I am a size 2 with a size 4 a*ss but I did not want to interrupt her as she started grabbing dresses off the rack. Next thing you know I have 4 dresses in the dressing room and she asks me what size shoe? Shoes? I came in here for a dress, well actually I came in here with an empty wallet but she doesn't need to know all that. So I walk into the dressing room and try on the first dress. I walk out in front of the floor length mirror and the woman in the room next to me was buying 2 dresses. I told the lady that I was getting married and I needed an outfit for my bridal shower. Okay first dress gorgeous black and white trapeze style dress. I loved it..Loved it so much I refused to say it for fear I might have to buy it. So I waited until I tried on another dress. The next dress was a black sexy Audrey Hepburn looking dress with pockets. Pockets! All dresses should have pockets don't you think? So I grab both and at this point feel like a drug addict in a crack house. I will take the black one, I said. I thought the Audrey Hepburn look was hot if I paired with some smokin' stilettos and a clutch. Should I go yellow, red, blue or green??? She said well this is 50% off. Whew! So off I go to the cashier. At this point, I am thinking which card is not maxed out. Is it the Citibank? No I booked the honeymoon tickets there. Is it the Bank of America? No, I think Puerto Rico is still on that one? Okay here you go. So she rings me up and I realized that that I just paid $300 for a dress that was 50% off. She must be mistaken. It did say 50% right? Well at this point, all I want to do is run as fast as I can and start seeing if the escort agency on 5th will hire me. As I am walking out the door, she says are you sure you don't want the trapeze dress I mean it is such a steal it is only $450. I nod my head and tell her I need to go pick up the Benz at the shop but will be back. And then run, Forest, run. Off to the shoe store.