Girl Crushin’

I have a new girl crush. C’mon ladies – you know what I’m talkin’ about (and if you don’t – listen up).

AAAAAAND SCENE:

Lauren walks into spin/yoga class, spots instructor, gets a wee nervous.

Lauren: Oh, hi Danielle! (Flips bangs.)

Danielle: Hey Lauren! So glad you made it to class! (Continues to greet every other person that walks into spin/yoga studio.)

Lauren: Yeah, me too! (Lauren says over-eagerly. Once she notices that Danielle isn’t listening anymore, Lauren starts to over-adjust her spinning bike…embarrassed. Class starts. Of course, Danielle plays Lauren’s favorite techno song to begin workout. Lauren incorrectly believes this is because Danielle and Lauren are besties.)

Danielle: Okay everyone! Ready to work extra hard today? I know we’re all ready for it. Turn it up to level eight and increase your cadence.

Lauren: (Huffing, puffing. Starts sprinting on spinning bike to the point of exhaustion. Note: It’s only three minutes into the class.)

Danielle: Ummm, Lauren – good job! Don’t forget to save some energy for after our warm-up.

Lauren: Oh…of course! (Lauren is meanwhile thinking, “I’m dying…I’m not gonna make it.”)

AAAAAND SCENE.

No need to go further into what a girl crush looks like. Obvi: Jen, please don’t take this personally. You’ll always complete me.

Hot Pockets: I Like Them…Stop Kidding Yourself, You Like Them Too

At this point, I think we know each other well enough for me to let you in on a little secret. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s something you should know. I like Hot Pockets.

More specifically, I like Lean Pockets…and everything Lean Pockets represent. This includes the little cardboard sleeve they come in, the smell that emenates from your microwave when you’re nuking them, their flaky breaded shell that crumbles against your fork, and the vast array of flavors available at your local grocery store’s frozen food aisle. There’s nothing like a little Ham & Cheese LP to get me through a tough day at work. This is something I just thought you should know.

And hey, those little pastry pockets aren’t too bad for you either. Admittedly, when I look at the ingredient list of a Lean Pocket, I can’t say that I’m familiar with “modified food starch, dried whey and palm kernel oil,” but hell – that little delicious puppy only has 280 calories. Meat and cheese wrapped in a Poptart? Delightful.

But there are risks associated with Hot Pocket consumption. I know this and Jim Gaffigan knows this. So with that, I give you the following important safety announcement regarding Hot Pockets. Please take this seriously, you fellow Pocket fans. (I know you’re out there.) And remember: PRODUCT WILL BE HOT AFTER MICROWAVED. I can never remember that damn part.

Hoooooot Poooockettttt!

Life on a Vineyard…It’s a Bitch

Have a case of the Wednesdays? I sure as hell do. So to give us all a much-needed laugh, I’ve decided to post an honest to god segment from an Atlanta newscast that I’ve probably watched… ohhhh, about fifty times.  The video needs no introduction…it speaks for itself.

Chilly, this is for you. Happy Bday, baby.

Life on a vineyard…it’s a bitch.

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.

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)