Martini Cartwheels

It is July. Or as we like to call it, one more month to use the pool before it gets too cold in Massachusetts. I like my pool water to be about 89 degrees, more like a big hot tub minus the bubbles. I won't dry dive directly into the pool unless it is at this temp or higher.  Or maybe if I was being chased by zombies. (Assuming zombies can't swim and that chlorine makes their parts fall off). When I was about 4 years old I dove into the bathtub. It explains a lot I know. There was water in the tub, not that it mattered. It wasn't so much as a swan dive but a head first half jump/half roll into the back ledge. It left me with a nice egg on my forehead and a new appreciation for porcelain.  It was ok however because the water was warm . You know those people who do polar plunges into the ocean in January? I will never be one of those people. If I were Jack from the Titanic,  I would have clunked Rose over the head with that floating piece of wood and hauled my ass out o...

Here's an interesting texting typo I created last week: And if airline seats get any smaller, I can see this being an actual problem. Can you imagine? I'm sorry ma'am, but there is no way both of you can seat in one seat. You will have to purchase an additional ticket for "her". What would happen then? Would she want the window or middle seat? That's assuming she would even want to sit next to me. I mean, we are together 24/7 so she may want a little alone time, out in the open air, where she is free of any restraint. And what if she is chatty, flapping her lips the whole time? I'm not a big talker when I travel, preferring instead to bury my head in a magazine so I can take my mind off the flight and enjoy my Ativan. I imagine the conversation going as such: She:  I hate that bike seat at spin class. You have no idea what it's like. Me:  Spin class is only 50 minutes. You can handle it. I bought you padded shorts. Those weren't     ...

I saw a commercial today for a prescription medication that treats the symptoms of irritable bowel syndrome. Among those symptoms - URGENT DIARRHEA.  Which begs the following question. Is there anything such as non-urgent diarrhea?  "Hey don't worry about me. I've got knee buckling stomach pain and burning flatulence from that street taco I just ate. But it's no problem because I have non-ugrent diarrhea. It can wait." Non-urgent diarrhea is the distant cousin painless gum grafting. Not that I would know.  I've had neither. 

I may have been exaggerating slightly when I told my one of my besties that there was such a thing as pumpkin spice tampons. I laughed so hard at her response however, that I had to change my pumpkin spice panty liner.

So I may have had a few drinks and the casino in Connecticut last week and I may have posted something on Facebook that mentioned people that direct the smoke from their cigarette or cigar directly into your face are dicks. I also commented on a news article about requiring student driver vehicles to be clearly marked as such. My well thought out comment? "Stupid Idea." FBI, also known as Facebooking While Intoxicated, is a very dangerous thing. How many times have you woken up, frantically searched for your phone, and signed into your account only to find your status reads "My ex's new girlfriend is a total bitch", "I want to hump my next door neighbor behind the shed",  "I'm quitting sniffing glue right after the weekend", or "Look at my great new kitten tattoo!" Please people, let's be there for one another when friends are in the midst of committing an FBI. A quick text, a message on FB, or a phone call can save your...

The new fitness tracker I ordered in January finally arrived last week. This model is wicked pissah cool because 1) it's plum/purplely in color and 2) it tracks heart rate. Heart rate tracking is a necessity. Oh sure, calories burned, flights of stairs climbed, steps taken - all important. But how else do you know you are alive other than your heart rate. You could be wearing your tracker and be pushed down a flight of stairs. You'll get the credit for that flight, but at the end of the day, who cares if you are not conscious and/or alive to brag about it. Have you ever been in a really long boring meeting at work? And you've said to yourself "Aghh! This meeting is killing me!" ? Well, now you can know for sure. If you are looking at your tracker and see your heart rate starting to fall to say 25 beats per minute or so, you better move your arse out of that chair and get the hell out of the room. Because yes, that meeting is definitely killing you. The oppos...

The following exchange of text messages happened last week. I was pet sitting for Leo, our friend's cat, and they were checking in. My sister commandeered my cell phone and gave herself quite a chuckle playing with the text to speech functionality (or lack thereof).  Hi CJ! How's our little boy?  --------- Many many ways of doing their enjoy Chartier message Yeah can you tell me yours do I eukaryotes is out with me for a PacTel To a back ---------  Wtf?  --------- Is there a problem  --------- Your message didn't make any sense This is what came over Many many ways of doing their enjoy Chartier message Yeah can you tell me yours do I eukaryotes is out with me for a PacTel To a back  --------- C CJ is having a gin drinking problem solved this is Cindy and I'm taking care of things she is out of control --------- This is CJ and I will never let my sister play with text to speech on my phone again. Leo is great! Eating we...

What's up with all the Cialis commercials? Apparently not as much as you might think. I never knew ED was such a huge (or should I say little) problem. Ok, if you want me to pay attention to these commercials you need to entertain me. Maybe a new slogan. Something like this: Cialis - For when your winkie is a slinky and tiny like your pinkie. This could also work:  Viagra - Point that hose away from your toes! And how about something for us females? We need help every once in a while too. Take the locks off of that box or Don't pout - get the cobwebs out could   really help to market a product geared toward the fairer sex. I bet you wish I was still on a blog break don't ya?

Oh it is going to be a good weekend :) From left to right, starting in the back row: A co-worker of mine recently returned from Switzerland and brought me a box of Swiss chocolate. Eating these truffles is like getting a 3 hour back massage in your mouth. Aunt Sally's Creole Pralines elicit three words - Oh my God. Friend and fellow blogger Laine and I had a bet on the Super Bowl. I lost. But, because she is so sweet and thoughtful, she sent me a box of pralines anyway. Eating one of these makes me want to dance in my kitchen. They are my new favorite breakfast food. King's Cake (Yankee Style). Not only is it tasty, but if I find the baby that is allegedly baked into some of these cakes, I win a prize. I will find that baby. Eating a piece of this makes me want to go look for buried treasure in the back yard. Focaccia bread with veggies and cheese. This smells great, looks great, and tastes wonderful. It feels like it weighs about 4 pounds which coincidently is probably the am...

I'd like to blog every day but funny doesn't happen all the time. And it rarely happens on this blog. Question of the week - Am I the only person in America who doesn't know what a merkin is? I was listening to a radio show on the way to work where a reference was made to a "pet merkin". I thought it is was something like a ferret. Oh sure, there are similarities, but they are definitely not one in the same. It's 9:30. I should be in bed and not sitting on the couch Googling merkin. You know, there is actually a vineyard by that name. Can you imagine the wine tastings? "Excuse me, but I think there is something floating in my drink." "Oh, yes, we know. 1992 was an especially good year for merkins. Slight acidity with just a hint of apricot and melon." See, I told you funny doesn't happen every day. Addendum: If my profile pic somehow gets associated with the search result for merkin (as it did for world's largest kielbasa) I'm d...

Mellow weekend. I spent Friday night and just about all of Saturday at home, sitting in front of the television watching shows with titles like "Lockup - Inside [Insert Name Here] Women's Penitentiary." There was a woman who hid four methadone pills in a body cavity which were discovered during a strip search. You know, sometimes I just want to bring an aspirin or two when I head out for the day. And not being one to carry a pocketbook - well, I guess I have my solution. But I'll take the vitamins before I leave the house. Those things are horse pills. Now if I could just find a place for my umbrella.

I'm a little upset this morning. It appears that someone has stolen my likeness and associated it to their product. I know what you are thinking - it must be for some sexy underwear ad. Shocking, but no. Even though I must say a "Make Your Double A's Take Her Breath Away" campaign, featuring yours truly, might be a really big hit. No, apparently my look appeals more to a sporty, fun loving, young audience. Like the ones that play video games for example. Hockey video games to be exact. Lovely. Thanks Stiffy for thinking of me and passing along this image. Oh, and just to make matters worse, it was Stiffy's 8 year old son who pointed it out. And Stiffy agreed.

How many questions does one have to answer before you are actually allowed to pump the gas? 1. Rewards Card? -----> I hit Yes 2. Point Balance is 500 - Redeem? ------> I hit No 3. Debit Card? -------> I hit No 4. Car Wash Today? -----> I hit No 5. Would you like a receipt? ------> I hit No 6. Pap Smear? ------> I ran away.

Bummer! While this person was sitting on the grass cracking jokes with a friend, our spy cam captured this shot. Ok, ok, not nice I know. Probably a new low, even for me. Butt it wasn't my idea - it was Stiffy's. And besides, wouldn't you feel a little breeze if your backside was exposed like this?

On what planet do the makers of women's exercise shorts live? Whatever that planet is, the women who live there must all weigh 75 pounds. The shorts displayed in this picture are a size large. I was surprised to find they were not 50% off since half of the material required for a size large was missing from said article of clothing. I would be lucky to fit this around my head, never mind my ass. Can you imagine? Tammy Tuck-Up Camel Toe would be my new nick name if ever presented myself in public wearing these beauties. I'll stick to men's workout shorts. They may not be as sexy, but at least I won't have to dislocate my hips to get them on.

Other than the double tap, how did you enjoy your visit with SEAL Team Six Mr. Bin Laden? "Ask any mermaid , you happen to see – who's the dead terrorist? Osama of the Sea!”

The vast majority of reality television shows are geared for straight folks, and most recruit hetero hard-bodies to participate. That is why I am proposing a new genre of reality television, one which lesbians everywhere can relate to. Here, in no particular order, is what I would like to see: Survivor Ptown: Twenty-four ladies are divided into two flag football teams and left stranded on Herring Cove Beach with nothing but a case each of Miller Light and one pool table. Contestants must build shelter, find food, and fashion pool cues out of driftwood. Object is to out shoot, out smart, and out lay your opponents. The Butchelorette: A spin-off of the wildly popular heterosexual version, this show would have 14 beautiful fems vie for a successful, handsome butch. Instead of handing out roses at the end of each round, the Butchelorette would give a softball to each contestant that survives the cut. On the season finale, the Butcherlorette chooses one lucky lady and presents her...

As I was driving to the casino this weekend, I convinced myself that it was ok to go spend a little money and have some fun. Dropping money in a casino may only buy you a little bit of excitement for the afternoon but at least it wasn't going to take up room in my garage, basement, or closet like so many other ghosts of purchases past. Juicers can really clutter up a kitchen cabinet. I bought one a few years back from a popular shopping channel. It was great fun until I realized that I did not routinely have six apples, three carrots, and fresh ginger root on hand every time I wanted a glass of juice. And let’s be honest here. What I really wanted to throw in that chopper was peanut butter cups, M&M’s and milk, which would have just clogged the thing up anyway. The hair remover gel looked great on the infomercial. Funny how the woman on the television didn't appear to be bleeding after pulling the gel covered strips off...

Just sitting here watching all the beautiful people on the Academy Awards. There is a reason people like me are not movie stars. When asked "Who are you wearing?" not one person answered pants by Levi Strauss, men's white T-shirt by BJ's Wholesale Club. When questioned about a pre-show meal, I didn't even hear the words M&M's, popcorn, or Reese's Pieces muttered. For once, I'd like the red carpet vultures to ask "What did you wear this afternoon to fit into that dress" and "Who are you eating?". That would be more interesting. I can't imagine what it would be like to have the confidence to get up in front of all those people. I'd have to have a lot of beer to work up the nerve to do that and even then, I'd probably just want to moon everyone from the stage. "I'd like to thank my lilly white ass for supporting me all these years yadda yadda yadda." Hey, I can't help it. I've been up since about ...

So following the logic of this store and seeing that the Trojans are hanging under the beer nuts, I'm assuming the contraceptive sponges are located somewhere below the chicken breasts?