Your Shirt Doesn’t Fit!

OK so one of my pet peeves – and I’m really not sure why – are those shirts that women wear that have clearly been zoned for small to medium boobs.  If you are a woman who has shopped in the last oh, say, few years, you will know exactly which ones I’m talking about.  They are the shirts that have a horizontal seam that – LADIES – is NOT supposed to go above your boobs, across the middle of your boobs, but BELOW (underneath, south of) your girls.  If you wear these shirts in this fashion, you are either in denial that your boobs are too big for this particular style shirt or don’t have a girlfriend, sister, husband, or co-worker who cares enough about you to tell you the truth about your fashion NO-NO!  So if you don’t have one of these confidants, I would like to fill in. 

Girlfriend…your shirt doesn’t fit….don’t wear it!

That’s NOT A’more!

Philadelphia is one of the most beautiful cities in the country, especially Old City, the historic district in which I live.  There are endless things to do, eat, and explore…not to mention the breathtaking Autumn colors which I love!  There is one thing about living in the city that I dispise more that getting hit up by the homeless folk in Center City.  The squirrels I grew up with in the burbs of Cleveland, Ohio were bushy tailed little fluff balls.  They danced across our backyard and up a tree to their homes and never caused any fanfare.  They were reddish in color and were scared shitless of humans.  OH. MY. LORD.  Aside from the pigeons (which are rats in disguise as well) these city squirrels are a force to be reckoned with.  They are rude, sneaky, and will invade your body space if they’ve sized you up and think you could possibly have a morsel of food they can snatch with their little front legs and carry away to God knows where.  Their tails are sparce and their color – GRAY – ICK!

So now that you understand my feeling about city squirrels, I must move to my love for Philly pizza.  NOT quite as good as pizza in New York City, but definitely a close second.  I will admit that I eat pizza at least once or twice a week because of that damn Margherita Pizzeria on 2nd and Walnut.  “I’m addicted to your pizza, how you dote all the HE** over my 4 year old son and how he “Ciaos” you when he leaves your pizzeria!”

YELP.com - I get email updates from Yelp.com with reviews on topics pertinent to Philly.  While I was away over Labor Day, I received an email from Yelp with the subject:  “When the Moon Hits Your Eye…”  I got a little excited as I read the subject out loud because I know the second part of that is “Like a big pizza pie”.  So I immediately clicked on it to open the email in anticipation of a fabulous review of potential pizzerias I may not know about.

CLICK…..email opens…..

SHEER MORTIFICATION!  The first thing I saw was this photo with the caption, “Is there anyone who doesn’t love pizza?”  I got an immediate visual of these ruthless vagrants hijacking some poor tourist who isn’t aware of their shenanigans.  Eat it up you creepy fur balls.  I’m going to go gag myself (again) and try to wash that visual out of my head.  When I walk by you in the park while eating, you may stare at me like a naked peanut…stripped of it’s shell…just ready to snatch away to your lair…but know that I’m onto you.  You will always give me the eebie-jeebies and if you know what’s good for you, you will run…run like the wind!

Chicks I Dig

Who would EVER put Maya Angelou next to Kendra, Bridgette, & Holly? 

Who doesn’t love ELLEN?

What the HE** does Hilary Clinton have to do with Mary Murphy or Trinny & Susannah?

Cheslea Handler, Giada Delaurentiis and c’mon…..OPRAH – you either love her or hate her.

But wait…what does Mary Murphy have to do with it?

Are you confused?

Sometimes it doesn’t really matter why you DIG someone...sometimes it does. 

I will spare you why I did these chicks….I just do!

Gimme an “O”

Gimme an “H“
Gimme an “I“
Gimme an “O“

I can’t believe THIS made national (yes national) news.  Then again…it was at a BURGER KING!  The guy is from Xenia, Ohio (15 minutes outside Dayton) and OH is he a cutie!  (Band or no band, he is ready for Halloween!)  OK, so anyway…if you haven’t read about it or haven’t seen it on TV…GOOGLE it:  Ohio man takes bath in Burger King sink.  (OK……….EW.)  Or save yourself some time…here’s the video if you are doing absolutely nothing like I am right now and want to totally get the QUINCIES!!!

What’s even funnier is I actually thought the woman interviewing asked him if he thought it was gross for his “testicles” to be in that sink.  (C’mon…I was page switching and was listening to the video as I was pasting it into my blog.)  What she actually asked was if he thought it was gross to have “utensils” in the that sink.  He said he and his co-workers did all the dishes prior to this incident (give that boy a raise) but then said he thought it was nasty for him (his skin) to be in there after cleaning all the night’s dishes.   Oh and articles say that they discarded all the untensils used in the incident (Um….how about the sink?) and is retraining staff in health and sanitation proceedures.  Gee…gimme a Whopper with cheese right now!

Thankfully I’m not a huge fast food eater.  But I will come clean on something. 

(echm….)

I’m from Ohio. 

But hey…I’m from Cleveland, man!!!

How old would you be?

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?

Like a good friend of mine who occasionally likes to eat like she is 4, I often regress back to a child in a little different capacity.  While she has corn dogs and those yummy little cups of ice cream w/the wooden sticks in her freezer, I have tried all my 35 years to get over my tendency to giggle when I hear the word “poop”.  (I just giggled typing it.)  And when I learned I was pregnant at age 30…I knew I was going to be doing a whole lotta laughing when that baby was born.  I may have even giggled in the pediatrician’s office right after my son was born when she asked me what color his poops were. 

So you can imagine my surprise when I received this photo from my mother.  (Yes my mother…who up until about 5 years ago would spin her lid if the words, “pissed off” even came out of my mouth by accident.)  Corrupted by her co-workers or shall I say a former co-worker, Maria, my formerly prude mother now moderately cusses (never the F word!), will tell a dirty joke here and there, and yes, she sends out disgusting pictures such as this one.  I immediately sent this photo to my friend Shakirra, because she makes great special occasion cakes.  I jokingly asked Shakirra in the email what she would use to make the (echmmm) poop (giggle).  Chocolate?  OOH…thinking about taking a nibble of THAT  just made me dry heave.  Then I finished the email by again regressing back to my childhood.  As I was concluding my email, I momentarily drifted back to all the birthday parties I ever attended and then quickly got the quincies simultaneously with my emphatic proclamation that, “(ewww) I want a frosting flower!!!!!”

Dear Mr. Webster,

I have a new word for your dictionary.  My brother made it up while he was going through chemotherapy a couple years ago for Hodgkins Lymphoma.  When he showed up for one of his treatments, the nurse asked him how he was feeling.  He told her he was “CHEMOTIONAL.” 

Chemotional by definition means emotional due to chemotherapy — if you didn’t put 2 & 2 together.

I have never forgotten this – obviously.  I thought it was hilarious.

(Side note cuz I know you are wondering:  My bro is cancer free…YAH!…although he still smokes and I want to kick his ass….that’s another story for another blog entry.)

Immortalized Memories

I was cleaning up a few miscelaneous toys last night after my son went to sleep and I picked up “The Garbage Man”.  Garbage Man is the small figure that accompanied a huge Tonka Recycle truck my son received last August for his 3rd birthday.  This time, however, I took a moment to examine this particular toy because there was a familiarity in this small piece of posable plastic.  All in an instant, I laughed out loud and grabbed my cell phone to snap a couple of pics of it in anticipation of this blog entry. 

Let’s rewind a-lot-a-bit:  I went on a blind date in high school and it wasn’t totally horrible but the guy had the personality of a rock.  Also back then when I was a somewhat shallow heartless teen girl who wanted nothing more than to be seen with a hottie, I remember him being kindof a dumb jock and…well…kinda cross-eyed.  Wooh!  We never went on a second date for obvious reasons but occasionally I wonder what ever happens to people in my past that I haven’t seen in years.  Now I can check him off my list.  Thank you, TONKA, for immortalizing an old blind date of mine.  And ironically…I wouldn’t be surprised if he indeed was a Garbage Man. 

(Not like there’s anything wrong with that.)

Thanks for your $2 – Do I look like I need it?

On the way home from picking up my nearly 4 year old son from preschool (time check = 2:15pm), he decided he was going to sit on the sidewalk and refuse to walk home.  I kept my cool and tried everything to encourage him to get up.  I threatened to take things away from him, told him how angry he was making me…I pulled out all my tricks to no avail.  For story purposes only I will tell you that we were near Pennsylvania Hospital. 

After about 5+ minutes of this (which is a lifetime when your fuse begins to burn), a hospital security guard walked by and decided that I wasn’t annoyed enough with the situation (Did I mention it was about 100 degrees with the humidity?).  He said to my son, “Big boys doesn’t act likes that.”  OK, thank you for your 2 cents…now go away.  A few minutes later – yes my son was still on the ground refusing to get up – the same security guard came by again.  I was assuming he was just on break and went to get something to eat/drink?  This time he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

(I’m SERIOUSLY not being racist here…just stating facts.)

Security Guard:  “I feels sorry fo you parents.” (shaking his head).  “I raised me 4 boys and dem wount bee-n ables to sits down if day sits on da ground like dat.”

Me:  “Oh gee…thanks” (very snotty)

Security Guard:  Chuckle as he kept walking.

Thank you Mr. Security Guard!  You were much too generous with your $2 contribution to a situation that already had me completely drenched in sweat and completely annoyed.  You walked away too quickly and missed out on my $2 for you.  Here’s my illiterate response to the illiterate man who found it necessary to give me his illiterate $2’s worth of comments.

Please, oh please….if you see me tomorrow…

Mind your own business!

Letter To An UNWANTED Visitor

Dear Unwanted Visitor,

I am 35 years old and have lived my entire life without you.  Through all my years, I have been perfectly fine on my own.  I have gotten myself through the death of my sister, pre-pubescent pressure and other stressors of my teen years (to include being 6′1″ at age 16, braces, zits, my first kiss, 7 Seconds, and my “transition to womanhood”), bad 90’s hair and fashion, a failed engagement, my father’s death, planning a destination wedding, moving to another state (3 times), having a child, and a plethora of other stressors that will remain in the vault and be taken to my grave. 

Now-a-days, I live a pretty stress-free life so when you showed up on the scene the other day, I was not prepared for your arrival.  I hope this explains why I physically removed you, swore at you, and threw you onto the floor.  I’m not usually a violent person but I needed you to understand that there is no room for you here among your other more favorable friends so please do not ever come back.  I find you to be a bit of a stiff and in all honesty – visually appalling.  If you do decide to return, please understand that I will take the same measures to ensure your removal.  Also take into consideration that just because my name (Melanie) and the reason you exist (Melanin – or lack there of) are very similar, it doesn’t mean you should use this as a commality you ”hang your hat on”. 

Never come back white hair!

Go where you are welcome!

This is what I think of you!

 

Girl Power!

I originally bought this necklace last year at J. Karma here in Old City – a Pagliei Insignia charm from their Waxing Poetic line.  I wanted a cool necklace to wear every day that was not your typical boring initial pendant.  When I went into the store to purchase a gift for someone else, I happened upon these and left with something for my friend and this necklace for myself.  (Side note: splurge on yourself once in a while.)

When we were getting ready to head to Greece for 3 weeks at the end of last year with my husband’s family, I wanted to carve out a couple of hours to have a girl’s lunch with my mom-in-law (Constance) & 2 sisters-in-law (Leslie & Barb).  I love (repeat: LOVE) my husband’s family and am a member of the fortunate few that have the coolest in-laws EVER.  So you can imagine how excited I was to be able to have some alone time sans testosterone with 3 ladies I think the world of.   I immediately went back to J. Karma and purchased 3 more pendants (C, L, & B), wrapped them beautifully and packed them safely in my suitcase.

I promote doing things like this with girlfriends…or in this case the girls in my family.  I live in Philly, PA, Mom lives in Portland, OR, Leslie lives in California near LA, and Barb lives in Key West, FL.  We are pretty much in the 4 corners of the U.S. but I somehow feel that symbolic items like this somehow connect me with them because we all now share the same necklace.  Anyway…here we all are at our lunch sporting our necklaces – on the edge of paradise at the Volcano View Villas on the cliff of the dormant volcanoes in Santorini, Greece.  Could there be a more perfect setting for me to give my heartfelt gifts of Girl Power?

L to R:  Constance, Leslie, ME, Barb