Mais Fica (More For Me)

And That's What Happens When You Let "Just Anybody" Have A Facebook Account

2012-02-08T10:24:00.001-05:00

Normally, I'm not a crazed sports fan.

However, when one of my home teams is in a championship game, I like to get in on all of the drama. Being from Rhode Island, I was hoping that the New England Patriots would pull off a Super Bowl win. Alas? It just wasn't in the cards because basically, the New York Giants just played a better game. Whoopty-fugging-do for them (my lame attempt at being a good sport)!

In related news, Gisele Bundchen, who is Tom Brady's wife, has come under fire for making a comment that kinda sorta blames some of the other New England Patriots team players for the loss on Sunday. I'm not sure of her exact words, but after the game, as she was being heckled, she commented something like, "My husband played well and threw the ball well. He can't throw the ball AND be there to catch it, too." OH SUH-NAP, GISELE!

Since Sunday, there have been many posts on Facebook ripping Gisele a new one for being a sore loser.

I'm not a fan of hers, but I did stick up for her on one post because, you know what? At the end of the day, she was just a wife, sticking up for her husband. And as a married woman, I can totally relate to that.

Without further ado, here's me...sticking up for Gisele Bundchen (or as my nephew--Brian, calls her, Jinxele Bundchen) on Facebook yesterday.....sort of.....

Sally Araujo Costa: Even though I don't think she's anything great, I would have reacted way worse than she did. They'd be all, "Hey Gisele, What happened out there? Your husband choked." And I'd be all, "Shut the f*ck up! Tom's teammates couldn't catch the damn ball! AND Eli Manning may have a ring, but he looks like a damn Muppet! Now excuse me while I go and console my HOT husband with sexual favors, YOU DOUCHEBAGS!"

And this is why women without mouth filters should never be allowed to marry public figures.

How You Feeling? Not So Hot!

2012-01-30T11:36:00.001-05:00

This was me, yesterday...

I thought I was having a pretty good hair day (Correct me if I'm wrong, and I will stab you in the neck), so I took this picture--to use as a possible Facebook profile photo-- right before heading out the door for a day of obligatory family bonding.

About an hour after this photo was taken, a family member, who shall remain nameless because she may or may not have given birth to me (I'm still convinced that Sally Field is my real mother)---presented me with a jar of this...

...saying nothing more than, "Here! Use this. This company also makes a night creme. When I go to the store with your sister, I'm going to buy you one of those, too."

When I got home, I decided to look at my wall calendar---the one where I write down all of my important appointments---to check and see when my mother's last eye exam was.

It was three years ago.

THAT fact provided me with the tidbit of consolation that I needed to AVOID eating a pint of ice cream and a bag of potato chips in commiseration of my apparent hagginess.

The poor woman must have some huge-ass cataracts, y'all.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Slow & Steady Wins The Race...But, Legal Action Could Help

2012-01-24T11:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, a man who I see five days a week, asked me, "Are you losing weight?"

Cool, I thought. All of my hard work is finally starting to show.

Proudly I replied, "Well, YES! I'm actually working really hard at it."

Expecting a pat on the back or at least a somewhat positive response, he said, "Well. You'd better not lose too much. Men like women with a little meat on their bones."

Hmmm....

If after all of this time, he has failed to notice how meaty my butt is?

He should apply to the state for free medical benefits cuz clearly, he is severely visually impaired (or he could just be a crackhead).

*********************

BLOG ADDENDUM: I have a huge family. Together, we are always celebrating something (with food, of course). Despite all of the "family shindigs" that I've been attending, including TWO this past week, Operation Ass Shrinkage is still right on target. This was the result of today's morning weigh-in:

Of course, I am extremely happy about my weight loss. However, I can probably get to my goal much faster if I hang this sign on my house:

This summer, I plan on wearing a bathing suit on a public beach. I'm not opposed to using restraining orders against ALL of my relatives to get there.

Reunited, And It Feels Sooooo Good

2012-01-19T12:19:00.000-05:00

Somebody once said (and I don't know who the frig it was), "You have to choose your battles. Do you want to be right? Or, do you want to be happy?"

I think about this quote often. Mainly because? I like being right. And, I usually am.

Around here, it's not very hard, people.

At work, my husband and a coworker, Jim, listen to music on satellite radio. And all day long, I hear them saying shit like, "Dude? Who sings this song?" and "Man! This is OLD SCHOOL! When was this song released?"

So yesterday, when the song "Reunited" came on, this was the brilliant commentary that I heard from my desk...

Jim: Wow. I haven't heard this song in a long time.

Hubs: Bet you don't know who sings it!

Jim: Yes, I do. It's that Peabo guy.

Hubs: WRONG.

Jim: It's...um......Ashford and Simpson.

Hubs: WRONG.

Jim: Hmmm...it's...uh.......let me think.....uh...it's that band that Philip Bailey sang in.

Hubs: WRONG.

Me (yelling from the front office): How about it's, I DON'T GIVE A CRAP?!!!

Hubs: (yelling back) You're just jealous because I KNOW and you don't! Hehe...

Me: This isn't a competition! There are no prizes involved!

Hubs: Jealous??????

Me: Who the hell is it, already!? Put me out of my misery!

Hubs: (sticking his chest out, all smug and shit) IT CAME OUT IN 1979 AND IT'S SUNG BY A GROUP CALLED PEACHES AND CREAM!

Jim: Peaches and Cream? I never heard of them.

Me: That's because THEY don't exist, you DING DONGS! The name of the band is Peaches & Herb!

Hubs: *disbelieving stare*

Me: Yeah, that's right! Who's smarter than me? UHHHH...NOBODY IN THIS ROOM! Bahahaha!

Hubs: Damn it. Even when I'm kinda right, I'm wrong.

Jim: That happens a lot around here.

More Like A "Misfortune Cookie"

2012-01-17T14:24:00.001-05:00

Last night, Hubs and I went to a great little Cambodian restaurant for dinner. Totally aware that today was my Weight Watchers weigh-in day, I decided to have some tea and the Nam Yaa, which is locally referred to as "medicine soup." It is absolutely one of the most delicious soups that I have ever tasted in my life.

In it, there's sliced chicken breast, shrimp, carrots, cabbage, noodles, exotic spices like fresh lemongrass and ginger, and various other ingredients that make this spicy soup completely addicting. Seriously, I could eat it a few times a week.

Nam Yaa (Medicine Soup)

When I was done eating my delicious soup, I felt completely satisfied. And I thought to myself, "Sally Costa? You made a great choice. You ate something that you feel good about AND you didn't sabotage your day of healthy eating---even though there may have been a few things on the menu that almost swayed you in a negative direction (I'm talking to YOU, Crispy Chicken Wings). YOU ARE AWESOME."

Just then, the waitress brought us the check...and two fortune cookies.

Hubs opened his cookie first. It said something about diligence leading to prosperity.

And mine?

Well, let's just say that mine proved, once again, that the effin Universe is screwing with me....

The fortune cookie people are a-holes.

Let's Get Mikey To Try It!

2012-01-13T10:55:00.000-05:00

In my constant quest for an incredibly shrinking ass, I often peruse the grocery store looking for new foods that are both healthy and tasty. I'm a pretty adventurous eater and will try almost anything once, especially if it comes highly recommended by an outside party--whom I trust to have good judgement in the culinary realm. We foodies stick together.

Because of my adventurous nature, I have been known to eat stuff that other people might find repulsive. For example? I love sushi...and I don't mean the typical cooked stuff. No sirree. That shit is for amateurs. I love anything made with raw tuna, salmon, fish roe, eel, octopus, etc...The funkier, the better.

I also eat raw oysters / little neck clams, brussels sprouts, periwinkles, spinach, salt pork, boiled dinners, and liver...by choice, y'all. I credit my Mama for turning me into an adventurous eater because when I was a kid? No foods were off limits.

That being said, yesterday, when I was at the grocery store picking up a few things before heading home? I saw this on a shelf in the canned goods aisle:

I immediately thought three things.

(A) Holy Niblets on a shelf! WTF is that?!

(B) Canned wiener ain't cheap ($5.49)!

And (C) I am a foodie, but I will NEVER be that adventurous.

Even I have limits, y'all.

Good Thing I Prefer Ketchup

2012-01-12T10:14:00.000-05:00

I am a good friend. SCRATCH THAT. I am a GREAT friend.

And I know this because of the way people speak to me.

Yeah. Apparently, I am someone who others feel extremely comfortable talking to about absolutely friggin anything.

Like yesterday, when Lou called to discuss a business related matter with me, and the conversation turned into this shitshow (Pun intended...you'll see what I mean in a second)........

Me: Hello Louie!

Lou: Hello!

Me: How's it going?

Lou: Eh. Alright, I guess.

Me: You don't sound like yourself. Are you feeling okay?

Lou: I think I have a stomach bug or something.

Me: Oh, yeah? That's too bad.

Lou: Yeah. I think so....BECAUSE MY STOOLS LOOK LIKE MUSTARD.

Me: Oh, Sweet Lord. Once again, LEW-ISSSS, you have crossed a very fine line.

Lou: You asked.

Me: EXCUSE ME, but I ASKED if you were okay! The correct answer should have been, "I think I have a stomach virus or something." THE END. I do not need to know that you are squirting WHAT LOOKS LIKE hot dog condiments out your ass.

********************

Like I was saying? I'm a great friend....AND I'm a pretty good shoulder to cry on.....unless you want to talk to me about the texture and color of your bodily secretions.

Then? I kinda just want to punch you in the head. Ugh.

"We Are Family. I Got All My Sisters With Me."---Sister Sledge, 1979

2012-01-09T12:34:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year, Peeps!

I'm officially back from my self-imposed hiatus (I'm like a poor version of Oprah!) and I'm ready to enthrall you, once again, with the details of my fascinating life (FYI---If you really think I'm fascinating, you need to get your ass out of the house more).

Let me start with the answer to a question that I've been asked a bajillion times in the last couple of weeks. What are my New Year's resolutions?

In a nutshell, I have none.

I never make any because I am smart enough to realize that the transition from December 31st to January 1st, does not make me a different person. Just because the year ends one day and a new year begins the next day, that doesn't mean that I've suddenly become this profoundly changed person who will choose carrots over chocolate. Not gonna happen, people.

That being said, I consider myself to be on a constant quest for peace and balance in my life (Oh, yeah...and a smaller ass). This year, I'm sure that some days will be great. But, I also know that some days will have me contemplating the stabation of several people in my life (Hey, Oxford English Dictionary! I think I just invented a word!). I do know that whatever happens this year, I'm taking you all for the ride. You lucky, lucky bastards....

So, I'd like to kick my blogging year off by telling you a heartwarming story about my family---mainly, it's about me and my two eldest sisters. After all, when you get to know my family, you will understand how they've helped to shape me into the person that I am today today. Yeah. Blame them.

Now, sit down, relax, and get your tissues ready. I said, "heartwarming." Remember?

Okay, so a few months ago, my sister--J, underwent a very serious surgical procedure to basically repair her guts or some shit. I know that the surgery involved her bladder, intestines, colon, a net, some mesh thingy, tubes, blood, miscellaneous body fluids, saws, sharp blades, staples, and what my sister affectionately referred to as her piss bag. Descriptively, that's the best I can do to explain it without barfing my multi-grain English muffin all over my keyboard.

J's surgery took place in Boston, at one of the best hospitals in the country. I knew she was in very good hands, but I still worried about her because (A) She's my sister and I love her, (B) She is diabetic, and (C) This was the third friggin time, in a short span, that she was having surgery to correct some major health problems.

Thankfully, her surgery went well and within a few days, she was home recuperating.

I spoke to her often, but waited a week before I went to see her at her house because I knew that she needed to rest.

Finally, one day after work, I told her that I was coming to see her and I asked if someone would be there to let me in because I didn't want her wobbling around unnecessarily and shaking up her newly realigned guts. She told me to come, and that her husband would be there to let me in.

When I got there, J had lots of company.

Her husband was there. Two of her husband's sisters were there. My sister-in-law, F, was there. And my sister, G, was there. Together, we sat with J, in her living room and we talked. She looked good. She looked healthy. She looked relieved that her surgery was over.

A few minutes into the conversation, my brother in-law's two sisters (they are in their 50's) started talking about how they sometimes pee their pants.

I shit you not.

They said that when they laugh a lot, they pee their effin pants.

THEN they said that if they wait too long to go to the bathroom after getting the urge to go wee wee, they pee their flippin pants.

THEN they said that sometimes when they sneeze or cough, they pee their everlovin freakin pants.

The next thing you know, my sister-in-law chimes in and says, "Oh, yes! That's very common. It happens to a lot of women as they get older. That's why they sell Depends!"

Dudes. I sat there in fuggin disbelief.

I mean, I expected my sister, who just had surgery on and around her pee pee area to have to retrain her bladder and shit. But, NO ONE told ME---THE WOMAN who still hasn't gotten over the fact that I'm in my effin FORTIES---that I should expect a time to come when I will be peeing my frickin pants eveytime I blow snot!

WTF is this crap?

So this means that in my future, I can look forward to hot flashes, growing a beard, and peeing my effin pants?!

OH, HELL TO THE NO!

I sat there wide eyed...looking for some comfort...looking for someone to tell me that these were all lies! Suddenly, I looked at my sister, G, who sat to my right. I noticed that she wasn't chiming in. In fact, she was being super quiet.

Because she is my big sister, who is supposed to be there for me, comfort me, reassure me, and give me advice when I need her to, I looked at her with pleading eyes and frantically asked, "Hey? Is this bullshit true? Please tell me that THIS ISN'T TRUE! Am I destined for adult diapers? After a certain age, do all women pee their pants? DO YOU PEE YOUR PANTS, TOO?!"

Without all of the compassion that a big sister should muster, she looked me in the eye, and said, "No! And don't jinx me, you b*tch." Hehehehehe....

My family.

They are a window to my soul....and clearly one of the reasons why I'm so awesome....or not.

I Eat Chocolate, Therefore I Am

2011-11-29T13:24:00.002-05:00

Today's post is sponsored in part by my incredibly shrinking ass.

I just got back from my Weight Watchers meeting. Before I tell you about my weigh-in, I'd like to say that I'm no coward, y'all. I think I deserve a chocolate bar just for showing up there the week after Thanksgiving. I'll take a Kit Kat, thankyouverymuch.

Lately, I've been pretty quiet about my weight loss efforts. The reason for that is simple. I am not a weight loss blogger and I don't pretend to be. I make no secret of the fact that I've struggled with my weight FOREVER, and I'm in no position to preach to the choir about walking away from the chocolate, when many times, I don't choose to do so myself (Dear Chocolate, I heart you).

As a matter of fact, the other day, when questioned about what it is that I write about, I answered, "I'm just an incredibly youthful looking, normal gal (hehe) who writes about everything....you know, everyday life...like how I sometimes want to stab people, how some people are whores, and how my pursuit of a smaller ass is never ending."

Incidentally, the person who asked me this question was Jason, the awesome sales associate at a local candle store, who upon hearing my response said, "OH MY GOD! YOU ARE MY SOUL MATE!"

Clearly, Jason is a man with flawless taste.

Anywho, since I've been exercising like a mad dog lately (at 5:30am, for those of you who know how much of a friggin morning person I am) and making the healthiest food choices possible, I was thrilled to find out that I've maintained my weight through Thanksgiving and into this week. Plus, in the last few weeks, I've managed to attain this:

Sweet niblets! It's only a matter of time before I'm wearing a thong on a public beach!

You heard me.

Before I leave you to continue on with my incredibly exciting day (Tonight I'm roasting spaghetti squash AND brussel sprouts! WHO'S A WILD WOMAN?! I AM! I AM!), I just want to tell you what happened to me after the meeting, when I met up with the Hubster at work.

I walked into his office to tell him how my weigh-in went. Then, I said, "Hey, today there was talk around the Weight Watchers meeting room about my working for the company! The district manager was there and she said that she seriously wants me to consider IT because...SHE LOVES ME." It's probably because I'm sooooo awesome.

His response?

"Ummmm....Yeah? No. It's probably more because she knows that you can talk a dog off a meat wagon."

I like my explanation better.

They Never Look Like Clooney :(

2011-11-18T11:44:00.003-05:00

Wednesday night, Hubs and I went to our friend, Linda's book signing, at a local wine bistro (and yummy restaurant). When we got there, we noticed that virtually every table was taken, so we moseyed on up to the bar, where we contemplated having dinner. Upon further observation, Hubs spotted a nice table for two and told me to wait at the bar while he asked our favorite waitress, Ashley, if said table was free for the taking.

Two seconds after Hubs walked away, and I am LITERALLY talking TWO SECONDS here, people---the man sitting at the bar to my left, tapped me on the arm.....

Crazy Man: Hi. I'm Jerry. I'm sixty-four years old and I was in the Navy for fourteen years. Are you single?

Me:   No.

Crazy Man: Oh. *pause* Does that mean you don't want to dance?

Me: Correct.

Crazy Man: I was in the Navy for fourteen years!

Me: You already said that.

Crazy Man: I was discharged because I got hurt.

Me: Head injury?

Crazy Man:    No. A plane was landing and I was guiding it in. It came too close to me and the wing sliced open my stomach.

Me: You were hit by a moving airplane?

Crazy Man: Yep.

Me: Yeah, right.

Crazy Man:   I'm not lying.

Me: Do you have a scar?

Crazy Man: No.

Me: IF YOU WERE STABBED BY AN AIRPLANE, YOU'D HAVE A SCAR OR YOU'D BE DEAD.

Crazy Man: Oh....*pause*   I didn't notice your wedding ring until just now.

Me:  You'll probably notice my husband's when he punches you in the face.

Crazy Man:   WOW!   Hmmm....So, ONCE I played the harmonica on stage during TWO Janis Joplin concerts.

Me:   DEAR.JESUS.PLEASE.MAKE.HIM.STOP.TALKING.

Crazy Man: Yeah! And I gave Janis Joplin a ride to her next gig! AND I gave her a dime--because she had like NO MONEY on her--so, I gave her a dime to make a phonecall!

Me:   Do you have evidence of this?

Crazy Man: What do you mean?

Me: Do you have a picture of you and Janis Joplin together?

Crazy Man: No. But, I wish I did.

Me: Uh-huh. *pause*   Elvis is my real dad.

Crazy Man: Huh?

Me: You heard me.

Crazy Man:   I like you!

Me: Of course you do.

And there you go, peeps. I'm a forty-two year old woman who's still got it. And by IT, I'm referring to the ability to attract chubby, older dudes who waddle, wear orange t-shirts covered in food stains, and make shit up.

Who says beauty fades?

A Day In The Life

2011-11-10T14:39:00.000-05:00

A True Story

Me.

Hubby.

Lunch at a local restaurant.

Man walks in.

Man orders takeout.

Sudden, lingering funk in the room.

Ponder the funk.

Dry heave.

Look to the right.

Determine the culprit.

Shit happens.

To us.

All the feckin time.

The End.

Never Look A Gift Whore In The Mouth

2011-11-07T10:48:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I was showered with ~~lame ass~~ gifts by my friends, Linda and Lou. If you're not familiar with Lou, click here to read all about ~~the jackass~~ him (my sincere apologies, in advance).

Last week, L and L went on vacation to Palm Springs. I'm so sorry, people of California.

AND everytime they go on vacation, they bring me ~~CRAP~~ presents. I know. I'm soooo lucky.

Anywho, here's what I got this time....

Okay. Not bad....except for the fact that it makes me crave chocolate.
I give it a 7 out of 10 for its cutability factor. Hmmmm...Cutability?
I think I just invented a word. You're welcome, Oxford English Dictionary.

Hmmmm.....Would it surprise you to know that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE these?
Seriously! When I wear these, I can tell people to FUG
off without actually telling them to FUG off!
HELLO, personal trainer?! I'm talkin' to you!
I rate these a 10 out of 10!

Um. Okay. I love chocolate. But, I'm not a fan of anything
that gives me explosive diarrhea AND fireass, simultaneously.
I give this a 2 out of 10...because, really? Nobody likes
a raw bum bum.

And finally? They gave me this cool metal fortune cookie for my desk....

Oh, wait! There's actually a fortune inside! What does it say?!

Hmmmm...The suspense is killing me! Let's open it together! Ready?

Um....yeah....

You're too little-too late, fortune cookie people.

Thanks for nothing.

Like Flies On Poo Poo

2011-11-03T09:39:00.000-04:00

Honestly, I really don't understand why weird /crazy/ nasty/ crabbyass people flock to me like hair on soap, but it happens to me ALL OF THE DAMN TIME.

Last night, Hubs and I went grocery shopping because the ketchup bottle in our refrigerator was looking quite sad and lonely. We walked up and down every aisle, we roamed the produce department, we carefully chose our whole grain bread, and after almost two hours, we finally made our way to the checkout line.

When we got to the front of the store, we realized that there was only one register open besides the express one for people who had twelve items or less. We quickly took our place in line and waited patiently. About a minute after getting in the checkout line, an old man got in line behind us. We noticed that he only had about twenty items in his carriage, so Hubs told him that he could go ahead of us. He seemed grateful and said, "Thank you." To which, my husband cheerily responded, "No problem!"

After we let him get in front of us, the old dude placed his groceries on the conveyor. THEN, he turned around to look at me and asked, "What's becoming of the English language?"

"Excuse me?" I asked.

He continued, "Once upon a time, when a person said THANK YOU, the proper response was YOU'RE WELCOME! It was NOT---NO PROBLEM!"

Dudes! Can you even believe that shit? The nerve of that ornery, little weasel! My husband happily let him cut the line (because it was a nice thing to do) and in response, he was rude and downright patronizing!

I immediately stepped up.

I looked him square in his cataract lenses and said, "What's becoming of the human race?! ONCE UPON A TIME, when somebody did something nice for a person---like let them move to the front of a line---the proper, gracious response would be to express sincere gratitude to them...NOT TO INSULT THEM!"

He gave me a dirty look and turned around to face the front of the line, totally ignoring my response.

For the record, I really wanted to respond, "HOW ABOUT, BITE ME?! IS THAT A BETTER RESPONSE, YOU ORNERY LITTLE FUG?!"

But, I didn't...

Because he was old...

And probably very lonely (no wonder)...

And EVEN I have boundaries....

(Shut up.)

Booyah, Yuh Glutton.

2011-10-31T15:42:00.004-04:00

Happy Halloween!!!!!!

Last night, Hubby requested that we go to one of his favorite Italian restaurants for dinner.

Even though I've been trying to curb the whole eating out thing lately (because I want to lose weight / avoid food temptations /stop my ass cheeks from dragging on the ground), I agreed to go. I figured it would be a good test for me because I seriously need to learn how to make better food choices when I'm in social situations.

Before we left, I purposefully explained to the Husband that even though we were going out to enjoy a nice dinner, I was not going to sabotage my weight loss efforts and all of the damn exercise that I sweat my funbags off doing this week. I was not going to indulge in any appetizers, dessert, or alcoholic beverages and I would appreciate it if he would support me in my efforts.

"That's fine. Whatever you want...no problem at all." he said.

Cool. This will be a lovely way to end our weekend, I thought.

So, we got to the restaurant and sat at a lovely corner table for two. Immediately, the waitress came over and we ordered
drinks--a glass of red wine for Hubs and some carbonated water with lime for me. THEN, the waitress brought over a loaf of bread (A WHOLE FUGGIN LOAF) with some dipping oil, which I pushed away and the Husband proceeded to devour.

Whatever, dude. I can handle this.

In conjunction with the olive oil / bread blotter combo, the Husband also ate a Caesar salad. Then, he had two pan seared/breaded/lubed up in God knows what chicken breasts, a pile of pasta drenched in pesto sauce, another glass of red wine, followed by a GLASS OF MILK, and a white chocolate-hazelnut tartufo (white chocolate gelato, rolled in nuts, covered in whipped cream, dusted with cocoa powder).

Muthafugga. I.Can.Handle.This.

While I watched him eat, I drank water, more water, and even more water. Then, I ate some spinach pasta (about a cup and a half) with four shrimp in a spicy tomato sauce. No cheese. No bread. No wine. No gelato. No bullshit.

I think I handled myself pretty well and I was proud of the fact that I didn't misstep and sabotage myself.

However, truth be told?

I kinda wanted to give my husband rabbit punches to the back of the head because he was lounging and savoring and taking FOREVER and a freakin day to eat all of that crap.

When we FINALLY got home, Hubs was tired (No shit! He was in a carb coma!) He took a shower and went to bed.

I stayed up and read for awhile. Then, I went to bed at 10:30...and I slept like a baby.

This morning, I awakened to the Husband...yelling profanities from the bathroom.

Hubs: What the f*&%?! Holy f%$#^&* shit!

Me: What's the matter?

Hubs: I'll tell you what's the matter! I'm THREE pounds heavier today than I was yesterday!

Me: (hiding under the blankets) Hehehehehehe....Um..And you're surprised, WHY?

Hubs: Sal? Seriously? Three pounds in ONE day?! That's horrible! AND I slept like TOTAL SHIT last night. I was up at TWO O'CLOCK in the morning with the worst heartburn ever!

Me: (hiding under the blankets) Hehehehehehe....Wow! *snicker, snicker* That's terrible! I slept reaaaaallyyyy great! Like a baby! I feel refreshed! Ready to take on the world!

Hubs: *blank stare* You're going to write about this on your blog, aren't you?

Me: Nope.

Can You Tell Me What Aisle The Eardrops Are In?

2011-10-27T15:40:00.002-04:00

The Scene:  Last night, picking up a prescription for my Mom at a local pharmacy (HINT: It's in a store where people are known to wear their pajamas / thongs / mullets in public):

Snarky Cashier: Can I help you?

Me: Yes. I'm picking up a prescription for my Mother.

Snarky Cashier: NAME?

Me: Sophia Petrillo (her alias)

Snarky Cashier: DATE OF BIRTH?

Me: May second, nineteen thirty-one.

Snarky Cashier: HOLD ON...(walks to the rear of the pharmacy...returns two minutes later) IS THIS PRESCRIPTION FOR YOU?

Me: Wha?

Snarky Cashier: IS THIS PRESCRIPTION FOR YOU?! HAVE YOU EVER TAKEN THIS MEDICATION BEFORE?

Me: Seriously?!

Snarky Cashier:   *rolling her eyes* YEAH. SERIOUSLY. IS THISSSS PRESCRIPTIONNNN FOR YOU??

Me: First of all, calm down and lower your voice. I'm not deaf! Second, WHAT PART OF "I'm here to pick up a prescription for my Mother who was born in NINETEEN THIRTY-ONE" didn't you understand?

Snarky Cashier: *insert dirty look*  TEN DOLLARS.

Me:  *insert death glare* You're welcome.

And I walked away, glaring silently and thinking, I hope that I'm reincarnated as toothpaste so I never have to see that b*tch again. Seriously.

Making Money! Now, That's Exciting!

2011-10-26T09:30:00.002-04:00

This is a real photo from an ebay ad:

The dude in the picture is advertising his paintball gun for sale.

He's also advertising something else.

Somebody get him an ice pack.

It Is What It Is

2011-10-25T13:07:00.002-04:00

In an effort to boost my weight loss efforts, I've been reading a lot about incorporating positive affirmations into my daily life. Apparently, if you believe in the Law of Attraction, projecting positive thoughts into the universe AND believing them, will get you what you want.

To take this theory a step further, I've decided to TRY to rid myself of limiting beliefs and replace them with positive ones.

Dudes? This shit is hard. But, I think I've got it down. Let me give you an example....

This morning, as I was attempting to run at the town track, I was thinking, "Man, this is so hard. This sucks dog crap through a straw. I hate this. I'm sweating like a hog."

And then, I caught myself being all negative.

So, I tried to turn those limiting thoughts into positive ones. And as I ran, and sweat, and huffed and puffed like Fatty McGee---I changed my thought process and kept repeating things like, "This is AMAZING! This is FUN! My butt cheeks are going to look so awesome when they're not dragging on the floor!"

Are you buying it? Nah. Me neither. What a load of poo.

I think I'll just conclude that even though I will never love to exercise (NEVER, NEVER, NEVER!), I'll have to muddle through and just do it (You Nike people are so friggin brilliant).

I will, however, go out of my way to do things that will make my home environment more conducive to healthy living and weight loss.

Like what, you ask?

Well, I've filled my refrigerator with good foods like fruits, vegetables, and healthy snacks....

AND I got rid of any trigger foods (also known as "red light" foods) that I had in the house, like this stash of rum cake:

(Do us both a favor and DON'T ask me where it went. Denial is more than just a river in Egypt, y'all.)

Second, I've decided that I am one of those people who NEEDS to weigh myself at home at least once a week. It kind of helps me gauge where I'm at and keep me in control. To make this process more hackable, I've transformed my ugly ass, menacing, bathroom scale from this:

To this:

Now, when I weigh in? My formerly menacing hospital scale greets me with a happy, friendly smile! AND when it gives me what I consider to be the WRONG answer, I can PUNCH IT IN THE FACE.

Yeah. I'd say I've got this positive thinking shit down pat.

Back In The Saddle...Again

2011-10-24T11:15:00.002-04:00

This morning, I rolled out of bed with all of the enthusiasm of a woman who's on her way to her yearly pap smear.

I have no real reason for my attitude problem, except for the fact that it's Monday....and it's friggin cold (I hate you, Old Man Winter!)....and I just filled my heating oil tank to the tune of eight hundred and fifty friggin bucks.

I KNOW!!! Can you even believe that shit?!

Anywho, this morning--after dragging my ass out of bed, taking a shower, doing my hair, applying my makeup, and getting dressed, I sat down at the kitchen island to have my anti-stab medication (coffee). Suddenly, Mr. Happy Pants (Hubs, of course) waltzed into the room....and he looked at me.

Then, he opened his mouth---as if he wanted to say something, closed it, and walked away.

THEN he came back into the room, looked at me again, opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at me again---this time, tilting his head to the side.

Being the super positive person that I am every morning (shut up), I finally asked, "WHAT?! What are you looking at?!"

"Um. Nothing...nothing..." he replied. He continued, "Um...I was just wondering why you're crying."

"Huh?" I questioned. "I'm not crying. What are you talking about?!"

"OH. UH. Nothing. If you don't want to tell me why you're crying, you don't have to. I was just wondering what was wrong...but you don't have to tell me...unless you want to tell me and then you can tell me." He stammered.

Okay. Let me just reiterate for y'all. I WAS NOT CRYING.

But, I was annoyed...mainly because (A) I had no friggin idea what the crap he was talking about and (B) my anti-stab medication (coffee) had not kicked in, yet.

Finally, I said, "Dude! I am NOT crying! What the hell?! Why do you keep insisting that I'm crying?! If I was crying, YOU'D KNOW ABOUT IT, HOMEY!"

"Well, WHY ARE YOUR EYES ALL RED, THEN? Huh? Answer that question, CRAZY EYES!" He replied.

Completely annoyed, I replied, "You don't even know what the hell you're talking about!"

AND I went into the bathroom to look at myself.

Dudes?

He totally knew what he was talking about.

APPARENTLY, what happened was---this morning when I put my makeup on...UM...WHILE LOOKING IN A MIRROR (seriously)....I accidentally lined my eyes with my red lipliner INSTEAD of my dark brown eyeliner.

I looked like a Portuguese version of Courtney Love after a long night of hard ass partying, y'all.

My God. I am so awesome.

No wonder you've missed me.

STRESSED: DESSERTS Spelled Backwards

2011-09-29T22:29:00.000-04:00

Hello Peeps!

Just wanted to stop in to thank everyone for the lovely emails. It's nice to be missed. Everything is cool here. I just decided that I needed to take a little time off from the social media circuit. I've been really busy lately (in a lot of ways), slightly overwhelmed, and feeling like I need to make some changes in my life.

Trust me. They're coming.

Anyway, I should be back---blogging in full force---next week sometime (Holy crap! Can you believe that it's almost October already?) Prepare yourselves. You will NOT believe the crap that you've missed.

Um. And for the record, I'd like to confess that my constant pursuit of a smaller ass? Yeah. EPIC FAIL.

Hey. What can I say? I've been stressed.

So, pass me the fuggin chocolate and give thanks that I'm not turning to vodka, y'all. WORD.

That's what I call looking on the bright side, people.

For People Pleasers....Who Just Can't Say NO.

2011-08-19T09:09:00.003-04:00

Here's a little trick that I've learned...

When you want to manipulate a situation in your favor (and you don't want to have to justify your feelings / say NO / or explain yourself), look at ~~the dumb ass you are trying to con~~ the friend/spouse/family member involved in said situation--square in the eyeballs---and mention a so called revolution. LIKE THIS...

To The Husband: "Dude. Today? You're going to have to clean the house, do the laundry, and eat frozen pizza. I'm going out to get a pedicure, a massage, and a facial. I need to feel refreshed...for when THE REVOLUTION COMES."

To The Relative That You No Likey: "I'm soooo sorry, but I won't be able to attend your ~~boring ass~~ function. I need to stay home to wax various parts of my female anatomy. It's very important that I be well groomed....you know....for WHEN THE REVOLUTION COMES."

To The Lady Who Weighs You In At Weight Watchers: "I'm up two pounds?! Well, in the grand scheme of things, I don't REALLY think that anybody's going to give a crap about the SIZE of my ass...WHEN THE REVOLUTION COMES."

See? It really works!

And before you ask, the answer is NO.

People WILL NOT really believe you.

But, they won't ask questions, either.

They'll just look at you with confusion in their eyes, thinking... I have no fuggin idea what the hell you are talking about. And they'll pretty much accept your explanation because of the probability that you appear to have gone balls to the wall crazy.

Whatever works, y'all.

I'll Be Your Friend, Even If You're An Ass

2011-08-18T16:15:00.001-04:00

You ever have one of those days when you reevaluate some of your relationships? Yeah. Me, too. Like yesterday, when I got these responses on my Facebook page, after posting that I was meeting my friend, Deb, for dinner....

Sally Araujo Costa: Out for a "very healthy" dinner with Deborah D! *snicker*

Jennifer C: Liar...

Marc D:   I'll be at home...writing my national column...have fun...bitches.

Heather L: What he said...except I won't be writing my national column...bitches!

Theo S: Ya...eat dessert, too...bitches...lol

Jennifer C: Yeah, get fat, bitches!

Heather L:   Oh, SNAP! Lol

Sally Araujo Costa:    Bite me, you assclowns.

Ladies and gentlemen? It's not what you think. You see...THESE? These are my peeps.

I get them and they get me.

Clearly, I need to work on raising my standards a little.

For Every Action, There Is An Equal And Opposite Weird Fuggin Answer

2011-08-11T11:27:00.002-04:00

Last night, Hubs and I stopped at a liquor store on our way home, to buy a lottery ticket, BECAUSE last night's Powerball jackpot was a little over $220,000,000. That's TWO HUNDRED TWENTY MILLION MOTHER FRACKING CLAMS. Yee ha!

This morning, as Hubs was sleepily helping me make our bed, I said to him:

Me: I don't even know why we're making the damn bed.

Hubs: Huh?

Me: We probably won the lottery, so there's no reason why we should even be up, yet.

Hubs: Uh-huh.

Me: No, seriously. WHAT would you do if you found out RIGHT NOW that we REALLY AND TRULY won two hundred twenty million dollars last night? Really...WHAT WOULD YOU DO RIGHT NOW?

Hubs: I would shit on the floor.

Me: WHAT?

Hubs: I don't have to go to the bathroom or anything, but I'd probably be so nervous that I would just shit right here, on the floor.

Me: You just won ALL OF THAT MONEY and the first thing you would do is SHIT on the floor?

Hubs: That's right.

Me: Dude. Millionaires don't go around crapping their pants.

Hubs: I would take my pants off, first.

Me: Well, that makes me feel soooooo much better. You'd take your pants off BEFORE taking a mad dump on the carpet .

Hubs: I'm a millionaire. I'll buy new carpet.

Me: How about you just run to THE CAN? It's only a few feet away.

Hubs: I'm just being honest.

Me: *shaking my head* You're a freak.

Hubs: You love me.

Me: Whatever....

UPDATE:

*We didn't win.
*He didn't drop a deuce on the carpet.
*He is weird.

My Birthday: The "Almost Smothered" Husband Edition

2011-08-08T10:45:00.003-04:00

Since the last time I was here, I celebrated a birthday. Bleh.

Here's the recap...

On my birthday, my husband woke me up at the ass crack of the morning and gave me this card:

Immediately, I started screaming, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! We're going to Vegas! We're going to Vegas! WE'RE GOING TO VEGASSSSSS!!!!!"

And he was all, "Calm down. We're not going to Vegas. It's just a birthday card."

And I was all, "Um. Excuse me? You just gave me the equivalent of a friggin airline ticket!"

And he was all, "No, I didn't. I gave you a BIRTHDAY CARD. But, open it up! It plays Danke-Schoen!"

And I was all, "WHOOPEE DING DONGS, DUDE. I want to go to Vegas."

And he was all, "Too bad, so sad. BUT, I got you this, too!"

And he handed me a bag...

And I swear to Sweet Baby Hay-Zeus, this is what was in it...

I looked at my presents.

I looked back at him.

And I grinned...

Not because I was impressed buy his thoughtfulness...But, because I knew that if an awesomer birthday gift DID NOT present itself ? THAT NIGHT, while he slept, I would (A) use said Silly Putty to block his breathing passages, render him unconscious, AND (B) use the Slinky to do this to him...

Don't fug with me at 6:00am on ANY DAY, let alone on my birthday, dude. At that time of the morning? I am perfectly capable of committing heinous acts of a stabbing nature. Just sayin.

Lucky for him, just as I was tyring to remember where I'd left my sharpest samurai sword, he handed me a watch box. Inside, was this little gem:

He was all, "It's a Philip Stein watch. Oprah gave them away on one of her shows! And the best thing about it is...IT HAS NATURAL FREQUENCY TECHNOLOGY! Wearing it will make you feel more relaxed!"

I replied, "Considering I was secretly pondering how to OFF your ass with Silly Putty and a Slinky, I should probably put it on right the hell now. Good call."

He's still alive.

And I'm still thirty-nine. *cough, cough*

It's all good.

The "Guilt" Diet. It Really Works!

2011-07-25T10:40:00.002-04:00

This is my niece, Julia.

She's seven, going on thirty.

Saturday night, Hubs and I went out for dinner with her, as well as with a slew of other family members.

After dinner, we decided to go to an ice cream parlor that's situated near the ocean.

When we got there, I turned to Julia and asked, "Miss Julia? What kind of ice cream do you want?"

She replied, "I don't want any."

Puzzled, I asked her again, "Huh? You don't want any? Are you still full from dinner?"

This time, she stopped, put her hands on her hips and said, "Nope. It's just that ice cream is NOT my favorite snack. I LOVE carrots, grapes, and string cheese!"

For a moment, I was utterly speechless. I mean...What NORMAL kid doesn't love ice cream?

She continued, "ANDDDDDD.....I'm trying to maintain my healthy lifestyle! THAT'S why I look like THISSSSSS!" Then, the seven year old version of Vanna Friggin White, motioned up and down the sides of her body with her hands before running towards the water to play.

Well, EXXXCCCUUUSSSE ME!

I looked at my sister incredulously for a moment, before asking, "Where the FRIG did that kid come from?" She shook her head and shrugged, as if the mystery was beyond even her.

FYI...In case you're wondering?

YES. Julia and I are blood relatives.

And NO. I didn't eat the damn ice cream, either.

I felt too guilty.

The little shit.

Men Are From Mars. Boys Are From Uranus.

2011-07-21T09:52:00.001-04:00

In lieu of going to summer camp, my nephew, Jon (he's ten), has been spending some of his days at our place of business. To keep him busy, we have outfitted our building with his bike, a gocart, an electric scooter, a designated computer for his use only, a swing, and books. Trust me. The kid's got it made.

One day this week, my husband knocked on my office window and said, "Hey, Sal?! Can you come in here for a second? You HAVE GOT to see this!"

When I walked into our production area, I saw this (Click on the photo to enlarge it)....

My friends? This is my nephew, Jon. He's playing video games on the computer...while wearing swimming goggles AND BREATHING THROUGH a snorkel. I'm not really sure why. Although, we did give him a book for boys that had a fart chapter in it. Maybe he was blowing gears and didn't want to enhale his own butt bombs.

I don't know....

Or, maybe boys are just weird. They are, in fact, just little men in the making, y'all.