I Never Blog About Pointless Topics…Right? Right? Why Isn’t Anyone Answering Me?

(All the credit goes to my fiance for finding this f’ing hysterical New Yorker cartoon) 

Why I Love Beachy Vacays (And Shiny Objects)

I’ve returned from the land of crystal blue waters and Mai Tais and am ready to blog away. Tuesday = Loathe/List day, so here it is…my second installment of what I will now be calling the Tuesday Tirade. And the focus of today’s topic is (drum roll please) why I love beachy vacations…obvi.

1) The anticipation of going on vacation takes the cake. C’mon…how excited do you get when the time comes to buy travel size products at Target??? You know what I’m talking about…the ten Q-Tips in a cute little plastic case, the adorably petite toothpaste tubes, the miniature advil bottles that look like Rolos. That’s the BEST!

2) On your way to vacay, you get to wait at the one cool airport gate advertising an exotic destination like Hawaii – and people get jealous. Next time you’re in this particular situation, take a look around.. all the other poor sons-of-bitches that are going to places like Topeka and Little Rock actually give you DIRTY looks. I swear. It’s awesome.

3) On vacay, you can have a pina colada for breakfast and not feel guilty. Or three. Or five.

4) Speaking of pina coladas, you get to walk around on vacay smelling like a damn fruity beverage thanks to sunscreens like Hawaiian Tropic. I’m not complaining… If I can drink AND smell like my favorite frosty treat, I’m one happy camper. Is it wrong to want to lick your arm after applying SPF 15?

5) You can read smutty magazines like USWeekly, InTouch and TeenBeat in public and it’s okay. You’re on vacation. There’s no crying in baseball and there’s no reading “War & Peace” on vacation.

6) Calories and carbs don’t count on vacay. (Okay, they do – but you pretend they don’t.) I like to compare it to when you’re trying to eat away a hangover with a Double Whopper and a Frosty. It’s a cure, so the calories doesn’t count. Same goes for eating coconut icecream every night when you’re on a vacay. Just do it.

7) You don’t have to wear a watch on vacay. You learn how to tell time simply by where the sun is perched in the sky, ie: tanning time.

8 ) You can wear flipflops every. single. day. This, my friends, is true paradise. A sock-less world is a world to be cherished.

9) And finally, if you’re lucky, you can get engaged on vacay. OMGOMG…Yes, my dear readers…Memos to Myself is now betrothed!!!! Mr. Memos proposed to me on our first day in paradise and we’ve been celebrating ever since. I’ve returned to my real life with a gigantic/beautiful rock on my finger and a permanent toothy grin, ecstatic that I’m the chosen one who gets to spend the rest of her life with the most perfect fish in the sea. There are no other fish out there, if you ask me. Truly, I’m the luckiest girl in the whole wide world, the entire blogosphere, and the Jennifer Aniston fan club.

Anyway, gotta run…it’s time to go stare at this shiny diamond on my left hand and smile. I do this at least five times a day, now that I’m engaged.

(Actual size of my engagement ring…almost.)

Aruba…Jamaica…Ewww I Wanna Take Ya to Hawaii

Well I really dropped the ball this week, didn’t I? My sincerest apologies to all of my regular readers who wondered where the hell I ran off to the last couple of days. My damn job got in the way of my blogging…damn job. Of course my dream is to quit the damn job and blog/write for a living…but in order to do that, ya’ll will have to keep passing my blog along to fellow readers, telling them it’s a “must read” that needs to be visited EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. (Hint Hint).

But that’s neither here nor there. The most important piece of information I need to share with you in this post is that yours truly is catching a flight to Hawaii tomorrow. Yes, the Aloha State is calling my name and I’m sure as hell listening. I’m leaving tomorrow and will be gone for a week, but if you’re lucky – I might just post while I’m there and let you know my current pina colada count (I estimate I will have consumed at least forty by Tuesday – if things go according to plan).

When I get back from vacay, I will be bronzed, beachilicious, and ready to blog my heart out every single day for the sake of entertaining the masses. I will be all yours – so prepare yourself.

If I had my way, I’d pack you all in my carry-on and bring you to Maui with me. But let’s be serious…that ain’t happening. So instead, I’ll write you all a postcard.

(That’s obviously me in 24 short hours…)

Are You A Fan of the Hoff? (And Other Critical Pre-Marital Questions…)

I admit it. I read the NYTimes Wedding Announcements each Sunday when they come out. I’ve been reading them since I was in highschool. It’s not really that I’m a romantic…it’s more that I like to find the most ridiculous “how we fell in love” stories and then make fun of them. Because of this, I’m obviously a huge fan of Veiled Conceit.

Anyway, while I was reading it the other week, I happened upon an article titled, “Questions Couples Should Ask (Or Wish They Had Before Marrying).” Very illuminating, I must say. Yes, some of the questions were rather obvious, like “Have we discussed whether or not to have children, and if the answer is yes, who is going to be the primary care giver?” Others were a bit more surprising, like “Will there be a television in the bedroom?” and “What does my family do that annoys you?” P.S. – who in their right mind would answer that latter one honestly????

Although many of the questions that were included in the article were very important, ie: firming up agreements on finances, family, spirtuality, blah blah before you get hitched…there were some extremely critical questions that were left out. Among them were:

• “If I ask for a backrub, do I have to return the favor?”
• “Have you ever watched any TV show on the Hallmark Network? If so, why the hell would you do that?”
• “Are you a dog or a cat person? Regardless, are you one of those people that likes to dress up their pets? Again, why the hell would you do that?”
• “What’s your ideal thermostat setting? Are you one of those weirdos that likes to be hot when they fall asleep?”
• “If you had to choose sides, which team would you be on…Team Aniston or Team Jolie? If you choose Team Jolie, can you handle getting your ass kicked?”
• “Would you be willing to have one of those ‘top five’ lists where if either of us happened to meet one of our top five celebrity crushes, we would be allowed to have sex with them even if we were married?”
• “If we ever have kids and they happen to be twins, would you ever want to dress them up in matching sailor outfits?”
• And most importantly… “Are you a fan of the Hoff?”

In case you’re wondering, the #1 celeb on my “Top Five” list is Jen. Obvi.  (And yes, my boyfriend’s fine with it.)

Signed, Sealed, Delivered…It’s Pork!

Put down those chopsticks, people. Stop wasting money on takeout. Because GET THIS…the Chinese government has just created a stamp that tastes like sweet and sour pork! This is no joke…the damn thing even smells like a hot poultry dish.

Slashfood is reporting that China released this delicious stamp last week to celebrate the Year of the Pig, which starts February 18 (a very important date for another reason – for those of you who don’t know why, you’ll soon find out).

Given that VIP Chinese officials regularly check my blog, I’ve taken the liberty of creating a list of foods that should immediately be released in stamp form after the pork rendition has gone from sweet to sour. They are the following:

1) A macaroni & cheese stamp..if this could be available by next week, that would be grrrrreat.

2) A bowl of guacamole, accompanied by chips and a margarita stamp. (I’m requesting this just for you, Jen.)

3) I accidentally just drank six cosmopolitans at a Monday night happy hour but I woke up feeling great stamp. (I know from experience that many of you who read this blog will buy these in bulk.)

4) My boyfriend and I just broke up so I gorged on a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bag of Oreos, but I’m still feeling sexy stamp.

5) I just ate everything but the kitchen sink and now I’m going shopping for bikinis stamp.

6) That three-bite Lean Cuisine actually filled me up and I love being on a diet stamp.

7) I just ate a steaming Hot Pocket straight out of the microwave and I didn’t burn my tongue stamp.

And with all that talk of food, I’m now starving.  Anyone have 39 cents I can borrow? I’m craving Chinese…

I’m Scared. Please Pass the Moisturizer.

Tonight, my mom gave me a piece of advice that I think might change my life forever. She whispered in my ear a pearl of wisdom so special, I believe it can only be exchanged between a mother and a daugher at a certain time in a woman’s life.

Picture this: the two of us are at our favorite restaurant, drinking white wine and discussing the finer points of life, love, and the greater meaning of it all. We’ve just ordered the pear souffle (to share, of course), when suddenly she turns to me, looks me straight in the eye, lowers her voice and in a sage-like manner speaks the following words:

“Honey – whatever you do, take care of your neck.”

Take…care…of…my….(is this really what she said??)...neck? My mom then hands me a book titled, “I Feel Bad About My Neck” by the all-time great, Nora Ephron. “Read it,” my mom says.

So I do:

“Sometimes I go out to lunch with my girlfriends…and I look around the table and realize we’re all wearing turtleneck sweaters. Sometimes, instead, we’re all wearing scarves, like Katharine Hepburn in On Golden Pond. Sometimes we’re all wearing mandarin collars and look like a white ladies’ version of the Joy Luck Club. It’s sort of funny and it’s sort of sad, because we’re not neurotic about age—none of us lies about how old she is, for instance, and none of us dresses in a way that’s inappropriate for our years. We all look good for our age. Except for our necks.

Oh, the necks. There are chicken necks. There are turkey gobbler necks. There are elephant necks. There are necks with wattles and necks with creases that are on the verge of becoming wattles…there are necks that are an amazing combination of all of the above. According to my dermatologist, the neck starts to go at forty-three, and that’s that.”

At that point, I put down the book and picked up my moisturizer.  Enough said.

Why I Love Jen

It’s Tuesday, and you know what THAT means… it’s my second least favorite day of the week apart from, of course, sucky Monday. To brighten up everyone’s Tuesdays from now on, I’ll be providing you with either a “Love” or “Loathe” list every week on Tuesday. Why? Because it’s my blog and you’re not the boss of me.

That said, I see only one way to begin this new tradition. And this, of course, is to pay homage to my imaginary BFF, Jen. So with that, I give you the top reasons…

WHY I LOVE JENNIFER ANISTON:

1) Her hair. Duh.

2) She’s classy, people. Yeah, she’s gotten some flack for incorporating too much black into her wardrobe, but do you know what wearing all black means? It means you’re CLASSY. (Note: please do not confuse Classy with Goth…there’s an extreme difference there).

3) She’s dignified. Despite going through very public breakups with both Brad Pitt and Vince Vaughn, Jen remains composed and unscathed. Not once has she bad-mouthed her exes (a popular technique among Hollywood Celebs and High Schoolers). I’m similar to Jen in this way in that most of my ex-boyfriends are complete f’ing @#@#&#$&*, but I never say that out loud.

4) She likes margaritas. In fact, Jen likes margaritas so much, she was rumored to go out for Mexican food three times a week with her ex, Brad, to imbibe in some tequila candy and guacamole. Smart, smart lady.

5) She’s an Aquarius. OMG…so am I!!!!

6) She’s ten years older than me, but the b*tch looks ten years younger than me.

7) Her hair. Duh.

8 ) She seems real. Jen comes across as having an actual sense of humor and real human feelings…she’s not untouchable or plastic like…ohhhh, I don’t know… Angelina Homewrecker Jolie.

9) She’s crafty. A long time ago, Jen dated Counting Crows rocker, Adam Durtiz, and must’ve figured out at some point in their relationship how to put her hands through his hair. One word: talent.

Jen, you’re the bestest. Let’s grab soy lattes sometime this week and treat ourselves to manis and pedis.

It’s Monday Morning and Lattes Just Won’t Cut It This Time

Okay, okay…I know I’ve talked a lot about wishing for an espresso cart at my place of employment (just like those lucky Googlers)…but on this Monday morning, a shot of caffeine just won’t do. I need something stronger…something with a little kick. I think I need a wine machine, and I think I need it STAT.

Enter the Enomatic Wine Serving System — a critical addition to my office that I just notified the HR Department about. It works somewhat simlarly to a vending machine – but the fact that it dispenses pinots, not cheetos, is enough to get me drooling on my keyboard. All you do is place your wine glass underneath the spout of your choosing and voila, your Monday morning just got better. Reds, whites (and if I had it my way, champagne)…there’s no discriminating when it comes to the Wine Serving System, which houses up to 16 wine bottles.

You can even trade in your Starbucks card for a Wine-O card…the Enomatic offers customers the ability to charge their drinks on plastic! Yippee!

So there you have it…the perfect reason to kick your caffeine addiction to the curb. If you ask me, I think we’d all be a little more efficient if we could just start our days off with a little morning merlot. Just ask this woman…she looks REALLY happy to be at work:

The Mile High Salute

I’m sure by now many of you have heard about the avalanche that occured this morning in Colorado. The snowslide, about 200 feet wide and 15 feet deep, swept at least two cars off the road as they made their way to the Winter Park ski resort.  It was just an ordinary day for these folks…driving up one early Saturday morning to the mountains for a fun day of skiing…when within seconds, they were buried under a wall of suffocating snow.

I’ve read numerous reports about the avalanche, but what gets me the most is when I hear about those courageous bystanders that, after witnessing the snowslide, reacted quickly to help dig out the victims. As CNN reported:

“About two dozen motorists jumped out of their vehicles and used shovels, ski poles and their hands to try to rescue others.”

This urgent type of search and rescue is critical given that half of all completely buried avalanche victims die within the first 25 minutes (according to the Utah Avalanche Center). I’m proud to be from this state, the state where twenty four passerbys on a random Saturday morning found themselves relentlessly digging in freezing snow with their bare hands to rescue their neighbors. But then again, I expect nothing less.

To you twenty four heroes, my fellow Coloradans and I give you our sincerest Mile High Salute:

Is that a Urinal in Your Pocket, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

Oh glorious, glorious day! It’s Friday…the beginning of the weekend…and two days of freedom await me. What better way to celebrate then to enjoy a nice cold lager at my local drinking hole?

But wait…what’s that? What’s that guy carrying? Whatever it is, it’s HUGE. Is that a…? No, it couldn’t be. There’s no way…like that would ever happen. Wait, wait a second…it is…I think it is…

Oh. My. God. IT IS!

The above was the inner dialogue of a young lad in England who, just hours ago, personally witnessed the robbery of a urinal from a town pub. You think I’m kidding? Think again, my friend. Reuters is reporting that british police are in pursuit of a man who stole a TOILET from a men’s bathroom at a pub. The article goes on to say:

“The suspect walked into the Royal Oak pub in Southampton, on the English south coast, ordered half a pint of beer and then made several visits to the men’s toilet. There he carefully removed a white urinal from the wall, stuffed it into a rucksack and was captured on closed circuit television walking out with the bulging sack on his back.”

Sir, whoever you are, please think about what you’re doing. Sir, I think you need to return the urinal - unharmed - to the pub immediately. This is not a joke. I’m guessing somebody needs to use that thing as we speak. And if men have to start sharing the women’s bathroom at the pub, well, it could get ugly… somebody could get hurt. Sir, do it for me. Please.

Please bring the urinal home.

(If anyone has seen the above urinal, please alert the authorities immediately)