Bienvenido A Miami

Alright kids.. one quick post before I go...

I have to head to Miami for my association's annual conference. And everyone who just said "so lucky" or "so jealous", please bite me. Our hours are 6 AM to 7 - 10 PM every day... in Seattle last year I only saw the floor that the conference was on and my room.

Although, I was voted most likely to get arrested... either for public drunkeness or nudity. Geez, you mention mojitos and you're labeled "problem".

Last but not least, before I head out... I wish Scotty a very happy 30th birthday! I'm sorry I won't be around and I hope turning 30 doesn't make you feel too old. If it does, please lie to me on my rapidly approaching birthday (or at least call me darlin' alot).

I'm sure I'll have some lovely airport security stories for you upon my return (see last March for last year's adventures at BWI)

Love and kisses...

-Gina

Couches from Hell....

In my whirlwind of recent shopping adventures, I decided to finally replace my old couches with new ones. Despite trying to own all the cute things on earth, i was hesitant to spend alot of cash but the holes in the couches were making me nuts, so I went and bought them.

Had I known, that these would be the couches from hell... I would've suffered through the holes.. however, at this point the first delivery of the couches was defunct because I managed to pick the largest couch the company made and it didn't fit through our hallway.

Now today, after a long night out, I struggled to stay awake and anxiously awaited our second shot... the loveseat version of gigantor-couch. An hour later than promised, the couch arrived. But I never got to see it. Sadly, our management decided to enforce some stupid ass rule about no deliveries on a Sunday and the couches drove off...

:-(

Roomie and I did get to have 2 seperate full on anger displays with the management and the security guard (who could've let us sneak the couch in w/o problem). I even got to say "I look forward to having this come out of your paycheck, because it ain't comin' out of mine".

Defeated once again by furniture, I did the right thing.

I slept.

Smooch,
G

I've Just Become a Lifetime Movie....

Wow... I have to tell you, I thought I was half kidding about my shopping addiction, but I had 3 real life interventions via IM today. You people (well, except Dee), don't appreciate the need for cute things, I've decided.

See below:

Me: how do i not own this: http://www.fredflare.com/customer/product.php?productid=1625&cat=254
Mr. M. Mixologist: down girl... you do not have to own every cute thing on earth
Me: :'(
Mr. M. Mixologist: no tears... be strong
Me (fighting back): no tough love ...its $10!
Mr. M. Mixologist: that money would be better spent on shoes

Now, I could've stopped there, but I was shocked, appalled and felt the need to justify... so, I send the link to Schmeffy and continue my reasoning (by telling Mr. M. Mixologist that I was purchasing him the iPod/cell phone bed):

Me: i don't know how you can possibly say that i can't own every cute thing on earth... its a bed for your ipod! your ipod can look like a lil' man in his bed...you need that, you really do
Mr. M. Mixologist: my ipod is very happy living in his donut
Me: i'm glad Ivan (hey, i went to Key West with this ipod.. of course I named it) is happy, although him in bunny slippers makes me happier
Mr. M. Mixologist (I'm breaking him!): hehehe

(now stern schmeffster intervenes)

Me: man... i'm getting it from all ends
Schmeffster: you want me to talk you out of dresses and you want a cell phone bed?
Mr. M. Mixologist: GO JEFF!
Me: Um, sorry, but you didn't see the dress... there is NO way you'd tell me no to this dress
Mr. M. Mixologist: i said nothing about a dress...don't change the subject
Me (ut oh, now I'm really in trouble): i didn't buy anything.. i just said it was cute. :-[

Mr. M. Mixologist: here's how this works:
1-G says something is cute
2-Mr. M. Mixologist says "OH... is it"
3-G buys it to show Mr. M. Mixologist
4-G has more credit card bills

I lose ground after this... telling him that if I were to go into credit card debt it would only further fuel my eventual move back to Jersey and help me move in with him and Insecta's author, the Paul. I realize I'm defeated on these fronts... so I try to enlist the help of someone I know loves shopping as much as I do, Dee. She proceeds to tell me that from one addict to another, I have a problem. :-(

Roomie, of course, lends a final confirmation.

You people are crazy and clearly don't appreciate the necessities in life... and ipod/cell phone bed w/bunny slippers.... everyone needs that.

Happy St. Pats!

Smooch,
G

Tales from the Dating Crypt

Hi All...

This one isn't from me... it's from one of my favorite Jersey gals and I must say, this sounds like a story to be told at their wedding, so I wish her the best of luck!

Smooch,
G

The Meeting

I met this guy because a friend of his (found out later on it was just an acquaintance.......) who had long hair like Steven Segal wearing a Playboy t-shirt and blazer was talking to me and then after 5 minutes was like wait whats your name, what do you do again he was really obnoxious….….so I went over to his friends and was like who does he belong to?

Then I told his friends why I didn’t want to keep talking to him and his friend was like oh are we supposed to be on your side and I was like Yes…..so then I started talking to that guy that I am talking to now……

He is half Russian jewish half Columbian….where do I find these mutts???

The First Date (They went to a spa; G note: that's a slick dude!)
I told myself ok.. we are going to a spa lets try not to get my hair entirely wet, the first date is too soon to show off the curly hair……so we went to a place in the city where for one, I was subjected to wearing a bathing suit, then had to go in a sauna that was way too hot for human beings and then he asked that I get this special massage they offer…..which included having some big russian guy named Ivan beat me with leaves, saturate me with soap and then to top it off have buckets of cold water thrown on me.

I was so embarrassed and mortified that if he didn’t’ then treat me to a normal massage, I probably would have never spoken to him again……this thus far was the most original first date I have ever been on……

Tales from the Dating Crypt

Hi All...

This one isn't from me... it's from one of my favorite Jersey gals and I must say, this sounds like a story to be told at their wedding, so I wish her the best of luck!

Smooch,
G

The Meeting

I met this guy because a friend of his (found out later on it was just an acquaintance.......) who had long hair like Steven Segal wearing a Playboy t-shirt and blazer was talking to me and then after 5 minutes was like wait whats your name, what do you do again he was really obnoxious….….so I went over to his friends and was like who does he belong to?

Then I told his friends why I didn’t want to keep talking to him and his friend was like oh are we supposed to be on your side and I was like Yes…..so then I started talking to that guy that I am talking to now……

He is half Russian jewish half Columbian….where do I find these mutts???

The First Date (They went to a spa; G note: that's a slick dude!)
I told myself ok.. we are going to a spa lets try not to get my hair entirely wet, the first date is too soon to show off the curly hair……so we went to a place in the city where for one, I was subjected to wearing a bathing suit, then had to go in a sauna that was way too hot for human beings and then he asked that I get this special massage they offer…..which included having some big russian guy named Ivan beat me with leaves, saturate me with soap and then to top it off have buckets of cold water thrown on me.

I was so embarrassed and mortified that if he didn’t’ then treat me to a normal massage, I probably would have never spoken to him again……this thus far was the most original first date I have ever been on……

Warning - this post contains nudity

Ok... after reorganizing both my sock and underwear drawer last night and then moving my stereo into my room (and cleaning), I decided it was time for me to go out, despite being in sickiness recovery. At the moment, I'm feeling ok... although we'll see what our friend Mr. Jager has to say about that when the coffee hits my stomach.

In the meantime, I give you a reason why I'm never having kids. Because my children, will never be this cute... even if my godson's mother insists on taking baby porn pics.

Smooch,

G

Oops.. I left one out

Where has G been? I know, I'm sorry... things have been a lil' crazy these past few weeks (buying my place, purchasing sofas that didn't fit (fyi for people who haven't bought sofas before -- measuring is key), purchasing sofas that do fit, etc.) leading me to be run down, thus catching le cold y flu that is going around. So, as I sit and recover (which is killing me with this beautiful weather), I realize I left one of my addictions.

Beads.

That's right, I'm totally addicted to collecting those cheap Mardi Gras beads. I have a bunch of them now, so many, that I need to find a new place for them (or some how work them into a mural that Telecomedian is painting for me). Now, you dirty minds are thinking that I get these beads through the traditional means of flashing. That's not entirely true. The bulk are done through complete negotiation (minus the one underage boy that I kissed in Key West, which doesn't really count any way, because I was drunk and the beads were super cool)....

In other news, despite being ill, I had to go through with my hair appointment yesterday, because we all know that beauty takes precidence over health. My stylist, who insisted I go straight home and to bed because I looked ill (as did my boss, so I guess I must look pretty nasty), also will not let me dye my hair a new color. In fact, he won't even let me get highlights. He said that after several years of blonde, my hair is finally getting healthy and he refuses to alter it in any way. I insisted that this color is way too normal for me, and I didn't know if I could handle it or if I wouldn't take matters into my own hands. He gave me an evil look (one only a stylist could give--sort of like "if you disobey, I will not fix). Hmph...

At any rate kids, not too much to report.... other than being aggravated that cable TV didn't get the memo that I'm ill and there is nothing on TV (I watched Batman Forever, for pete's sake).

Hope everyone is well.. take those vitamin Cs.

Love,
G

Intervention

Roomie is doing a great job of sleeping this morning leaving me unattended -- never a good thing. You all know by now there are things that try as I might, I'm just addicted to... So, here I am doing "market research" in my quest for new sofas, when Yahoo leads me to the Target website. One swift click I accidentally hit the new Spring Issac line... and there they are... dresses.... then skirts... I'm clicking like crazy now... adding to the cart. Sale! Yes, please... I tried really hard to hit the cancel order button. I even sneezed super loud so Roomie would wake up and catch me and turn off my computer... but to no avail... if you have an Amazon account, Target already has your info.. including my favorite credit card. I mean, its just SO easy.. and it makes my credit card people happy too... so I'm pleasing more than just myself. (I'm so thoughtful) At any rate, in 3 - 7 business days I will have a new collection of skirts and dresses and some more bills to add to my credit card.

For the record... if anyone ever wants to tape an intervention for fun. You can gather me and my loved ones in the room and discuss my issues with the following. I may not be as dramatic as Danny Bonaduce, but see what happens if you try to take away my skirt and dress collection... it won't be pretty.

G Addictions
Grande Breve Lattes
Dresses and Skirts
Hummus (this one is seriously climbing the charts)
The Deadly 3 Ps -- Pool, Poker, Pizza
Gambling (not for the cash, for the opporunity to taunt other people--most favorite is horse racing)
Cute Purses (such a sucker)
MTV
Singing cheezy music really loudly (and lately in public places sometimes w/dancing)
Naming inanimate objects (Roomie found out last night about the name for his lamp--I'm goiing to try to keep Stevie the TV under wraps)

I hope y'all are having great weekends...

Smooch,
G

Insecta, Season 2, Episode 2

Disclaimer from the author: For those who take issue with the use of Ernest Hemingway's ghost as a villain (I've received complaints) I ask that you remember poetic license is an instrument of creative expression. It is true I could have used Harry S. Truman's ghost instead but between the two, I see Ernest Hemingway as more ornery - the authorization of atomic weapons by the latter notwithstanding. It is not the intention of this narrative to, in any way, ridicule, cast aspersions, or debunk the literary prowess of anyone, no matter how anemic that prose may actually be....so, with that, I give you the sunset at Mallory Square.

Insecta, episode 2, season 2

One might reasonably ask why Det. Mangy, her boss, Captain Tombeau, and Mr. Z - who was connected to her in the past through college and had an undying love for her but tried to kidnap her in the last Insecta debacle in Las Vegas - were all walking together to Mallory Square to see the sunset. Det. Mangy was on good terms with Captain Tombeau as he was her boss. Mr. Z had begged Det. Mangy to forgive his madness from before and as a token of his seriousness, he sold everything he had in vegas (casino, hotel, restaurant, and all) for $750,000,000 and offered to share the boon with the others as Key West spending money.

Mangy was certainly smart enough to see the value in such an expense account and Mr. Z wasn't much of a match for her anyway. So, he ended up being part of the sunset party.

Unfortunately, Mr. Z kept pining for the inaccessible Det. Mangy and she grew tired of him. She ended up tossing him into the ocean but not before she took his atm card. Mr. Z managed to swim to one of the smaller island keys which was uninhabited and decided to make his own home there. He started collecting fire wood because that's what he thought he remembered seeing on Survivor.

After the sun actually set, Mangy and Tombeau did head back to Denny's for breakfast for dinner. A Russian woman took their order and mocked them for getting three drinks each -- but pina coladas can really dehydrate you if you aren't careful.

At any rate, Beaumont was racing to the beach to warn Cheetah that Insecta was there in Key West but Insecta and the ghost of Ernest Hemingway were already on the loose. Ernest hadn't felt so alive in years confessing, I should have turned to a life of crime all along. Insecta was glad to have an accomplice, knowing she was no match for the red pumps of Detective Mangy.

Beaumont could see Cheetah still sunbathing (even though the sun had set) in the distance and was moving just as fast as his little penguin feet could run. But he noticed two ominous figures soaring at a much faster rate through the air in the same direction. He tried to yell out a warning to Cheetah but his voice wasn't exactly American Idol volume.

By the time Cheetah realized what had hit her, she was already trapped in Insecta's talons. As Insecta cackled maniacally, Cheetah noticed it took no time for them to reach a dizzying height as she tried to wiggle out of the strangely licorice smelling talons.

Mr. Hemingway flew close to Insecta's claws so he could be face to face with Cheetah who was already desperate to get free but afraid of the height she was now at.

"Hello, pretty. I'm Ernest Hemingway," he said beaming ear to ear.

"Don’t be nice to her you idiot!" Insecta screamed. But her anger somehow softened as she suddenly remembered happier times riding the monorail in Las Vegas, back and forth until it lulled her into a stupor.

"Damn Key West. No monorails!!" she shrieked.

Hemingway rolled his eyes and continued, "Cheetah is it?"

Cheetah was sure there had been something other than alcohol in her drink. While Insecta's arrival was a surprise, seeing Ernest Hemingway gawking at her at the altitude of 200 or 300 feet up was just too surreal.

"I've waited for a long time to impress someone with a rather neat trick I know," Mr. Hemingway said calmly through a fixed grin, "I am going to recite the entirety of "A Farewell to Arms" for you -- backwards."

And that is exactly what Mr. Hemingway began to do.

Insecta could only roll her eyes at such foolishness, "How's that painful for her you moron?" But as Old Ernie started to recite his reverse novel, Insecta realized just how annoying that could be.

On the ground, Beaumont noticed the large insect, the pale and misty ghost figure and a rather freaked out Cheetah flailing about in the sky.

"Oh dear, I've got to go find Detective Mangy and the others now," he thought, "we all split up -- where would they be...let's see, Mangy was drinking and the sun has finally set...so, Denny's most likely."

And off he went in hopes of having a small stack of pancakes.

Telecomedian Makes A Funny....

This dude is on a roll.... it also reminds me of "Grandma Got Run Over By A Guido" by Nicole, Gretchen and myself...

Enjoy!
-G

Cheney's Got a Gun
Cheney's Got a Gun
He's proving he's really dumb
He's shootin' at everyone

What did his buddy do?
To get shot in the head by you?
They said when Cheney was a' shootin'
He would be shootin' at some game
But his man, he had it comin' now that
Cheneys got a gun
His lawyer ain't ever gonna be the same.

Cheney's got a gun
Cheney's got a gun
His hunting day just begun
Now everybody is on the run
Tell me now it's untrue.
What did his lawyer do?
He got shot by Dick Cheney
The man has got to be insane
They say the buckshot that he took to the midsection and the face
put that 78 year old man in the pain

Run away, run away from the Cheney yeah, yeah yeah yeah
Run away run away from the Cheney yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Run away, run away, run, run away

Cheney's got a gunCheney's got a gun
His hunting day'd just begun
Now everybody is on the run
What did that lawyer do?
To make Cheney fire through?
He had to go quail hunting and put a bullet in his brain
He said 'cause I ain't no quail' but Cheney was a'shootin'
His face ain't never gonna be the same.

Run away, run away from the Cheney yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah
Run away run away from the Cheney yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Run away, run away, run, run away

Cheney's got a gun
Cheney's got a gun
Cheney's got a gun
Everybody is on the run

Ow.

Yea, so we played a little too hard... judging by the fact that I'm already in pain...but by far, the best packing snow in years! And a dog decided to play monkey in the middle as we played disc... too fun! A lil' bit of G heaven.

Hope you all got out there!

-G

Ah, technology...

My dad loves toys and gadgets... its why there is a sign above his garage that says "Daddy's Toy Box". Recently, he bought a new computer which he just found out has the ability to call and talk to me through my computer AND for added kicks, he has a webcam. So, now I can both see and hear my parents and dog at ANY time they feel like calling me.

I'm gonna let you all digest that for a few... and understand why, technology is not always necessary.

Smooch,
G

SNOOOOOOW!!!!!!!!

Yay! Snow day!! I have to admit, I'm having some Jersey nostaglia at the moment. Here are some of my favorite snowy moments:

Listening to my dad curse like someone with Tourette's as he shovels the driveway and the rest of look on from inside and giggle...then my mom saying "someone go help him" as she goes back to bed.

My pooch, Lucky, who views snow as free food from the gods and proceeds to eat her weight in snow to get through the backyard.

My old dog, Rocky, who tried to eat snowballs off the glass as we chucked snow at the front door (while he was inside).

The huge ice storm my senior year in high school, which was so beautiful.

The giant blizzard about ten years ago, where my brother and I were stuck together in the house for 3 days. Extremely hard considering we didn't speak to each other at the time.... after I shoveled snow for 3 straight hours, he came to get me. I guess he was afraid I would die and he'd be in trouble since my parents had taken the Pathfinder to Florida and were on a cruise in the Bahamas.

Sledding with all the goofball boys from the M12 at Laurel Acres Park.

Possibly, my favorite memory is of Dave Roberts from Action News. If anyone grew up in the Philly area, everyone remembers Dave Roberts, the weatherman. Poor Dave was put outside in the "weather box" every chance Ch. 6 could get. He was even out there reporting in the middle of Hurricane Andrew. Watching Dave was the best.

In a few hours, I'm going play snow frisbee with Roomie. What he doesn't know, is that a battle of the white wash is my covert operation. That's the great thing about refusing to grow up... I can get away with that.

One of us ain't comin' back dry.

Hope y'all are enjoying your snowy day!

Smooch!
-G

In Health News...

Maybe we should start with my own health news... I spent 1/2 of last Saturday in the ER for reasons that I'm still unclear but that are helping me meet my goal of finding a primary care physician for the first time in 10 years or so...

The backstory: After an extremely busy, stressful week, I decide to hang home and sleep and make my trek to Jersey Saturday AM instead. About 3 am, I woke up with a horrible pain in my back... I mean really, really bad. So, I tried repositioning, didn't work. I tried muscle rub, nothing. Finally, I went to the G tried and true remedy of Darvocet... then 2 Darvocet. Nada. I woke up every hour blasted by more pain.

Around 9 am, I decide to try walking it off... this does nothing to help me either. I call my two nervous nelly moms, Schmeffster and my own mother, and they tell me I need to stay in DC and go to the doctor. Being that I'm the type of person that would rather bludgeon out her eyes than go to the doctor, I call my 3rd mom resource, Dee, and she concurs with their assessment.

I hang up the phone and as I wince for the 37th time while trying to breathe in, I realize they're probably on to something. I call Roomie and ask him to please take me to the ER when he comes home from work. I had no idea that would be so late in the day and the pain only got worse.... convincing me that I had a kidney stone. When Roomie did get home, he was soaking wet from the pouring rain and found me curled around a couch because I couldn't sit any other way.

At the ER, some med student tells me the pain is muscular. I then mention the medicine I'm taking and how there is a warning for sudden back pain. He says "uh ohh.. I'll go look that up online". G loses all faith in the hospital.

After a half hour of more waiting, the attending physican comes back with him and determines they need to run some tests. G undergoes the littany of pee here, this may pinch a bit (by pinch they mean, "we're stabbing your hand with a needle to start an IV"), hold steady for the cat scan machine... and finally gets rewarded by the attending with two Percocets (which I'm convinced will not help the ongoing pain)...

Around 6:30 pm, Roomie comes back to check on me (in between that time, my father pages Roomie in the ER waiting room for an update on my progress--Roomie didn't believe me when I said he should call them every 1/2 hour or so) and gets me a Diet Coke... Very soon after that, the Percocets do kick in, making the pain much more tolerable. The ER releases me w/a script and a pat on my head. I was convinced at the time that I would be back the next day.

Fortunately, that didn't happen. I woke up the next day, with no pain at all and no explanation as to why.

Weird right?

I'm Sorry, Mother Nature...

Apparently, I summoned the weather gods with my last post... Sorry, everybody! But a good publicist would flip this situation and say that Mother Nature loves my posts so much she created a diversion to keep me indoors all weekend. And while I can't prove it, I believe, she had help from the Sandman who turned my Friday Happy Nappy into a Rip Van Winkle-esque sleep.

A bonus for you readers, looks like you'll be seeing a lot o' posts this weekend, as this town shuts down at the mere thought of snow in the general area (i.e. the entire East Coast). And sadly, going on almost one year, I have succumbed to this ritual and am about to cancel my weekend plans.

Let's start with my favorite news quote from yesterday brought to us by former FEMA head, Michael Brown:

Recounting conference calls that described initial damage reports the day Katrina hit, Brown scoffed at claims that Homeland Security didn't know about the devastation's scope until the next day. He called those claims "just baloney."

Ah baloney. Really, why is baloney not used more often in government affairs? Baloney as part of foreign policy, The Oscar Meyer Advantage, if you will.

Here's some other terms I'd like to see more often in our government:

Crimney - because "crikey" caught on way more than I thought

No Doi - I've been pushing for this one since Dodgeball was in the theater

Pscyhe! - as in "I never knew the levees would break" PSYCHE!!!

Dumas - Ok, there's only 2 people I know that will get this one... this word was invented because my mother insisted words like "ass" and "pee" were bad and forbidden... "Dumas" is code for "f***in dumb ass" and was used by a select group of gals in high school; if you were a real idiot, you were deemed Captain Dumas, not to be confused with Captain Stupid, an affectionate nickname Schmotty and I had for Schmeffster after hearing several of his racquetball injury stories.

I know y'all have some lingo you wanna add... I look forward to it. And I'll be back with more on this non-snowy snow weekend.

Smooch,
G

Can we talk about the weather?

I didn't get permission to use this from Telecomedian, but I was asking this DC native why on earth can we not have stable weather in this part of the US. Two weeks ago, I drove home from work w/Victor the VW's top down. Today, I'm wearing 2 sweaters and other cold weather gear...

Anyway, Mr. T came up w/some darn good reasoning which this gal, who's devoid of most scientific knowledge, fully supports. So, here you go:

G: my sweet area native, can you give me some idea of what the balls is going on with this weather? I can't figure out if I'm cold or hot. It's like living inside a bipolar person.

T: I have no idea what's going on with this weather. If I knew, I'd tell you. I have no clue. It's 40! It's 60! It's 20! I think this is what happens when hurricanes pump billions of cubic feet of hot Gulf air into Canada. All of our cold air is going to Europe. I'm brilliant, I know. Contact the Nobel people. I know what's up.

G: k... you seriously had me there with the weather.... until I realized that you must've watched general hospital as a child and fell victim to the casadine's weather machine.

T: I never watched the soaps, dude. It's my belief that pumping hot air from thesouth way north is gonna *@&! with the jet stream. Notice how it's only just nowgetting cold around here? I'm tellin' ya, blame Katrina.

There you have it... the reason I think I like this answer most... is because if you blame Katrina, you can also indirectly blame Bushie. Something that is quite popular these days!

Smooch!
-G

How I kissed a boy that wasn't my date...

I signed the purchase agreement to buy my place (FYI, they do NOT let you sign those things in crayons... I did ask), so I'm on my first step to being a real grown up... now, all I need is a bunch o' cash to seal the deal... so I'm doing what all real grown ups do, which is heading to Vegas and putting all my savings on red. I'm kidding! A) I don't have any savings to put down and B) I'm really doing what all grown ups do and that's asking my mommy and daddy for help. I figure I should get it from them now because by the time I get married, they'll have spent that cash and forgotten all about it.

Now, in order to balance the ying yang gravity of the situation, Roomie and I decided to celebrate with a congratulatory drink. Of course, I still had this lovely first date of 2006 to go on, so I tell Roomie, I need to be responsible, so we can only go out for a bit. He throws out the kryptonite ("but I thought we could shoot some pool"), and there I am suckered into the classic, "Ok, but I have to be home by 6:30 to make my date at 7". Since it was 4:30 pm, I thought we'd be alright.

While G racks, Roomie decides we need congratulatory shot of Jager in addition to the beer. A few games of pool ensue (G does exceptionally well against Roomie, her pool nemesis) and it was collectively decided that we needed a few more beers, in addition to a congratulatory shot to congratulate the first shot.

Do we all see where this is headed? Ok. Good.

As time passes and glasses empty, I finally ask Roomie for the time. 6:15 pm. Oot. I better check in w/Date.

Thankfully, Date was running late and we decided to meet at 8 instead. (Eight is great!)

Now, all you responsible readers are thinking, "Oh, good, G went home, had some dinner, got all gussed up and waited for Prince Charming to arrive."

And I'm glad you all think that I could actuallly be that responsible... but think of the pressure... I had signed the deal to buy a home, that day. I am rapidly approaching 30 (as Roomie points out on a daily basis). I was extremely close to another victory on the table against Roomie. Grownup-ville is up on the left after the stop sign. I couldn't go home, then. It would have been against God's plan AND would've drastically shortened this entry.

7:15 rolls around and finally Roomie makes the financial decision that we need to leave (FYI to locals Buffalo Billards ain't that cheap). I get in around 7:30... plenty of time to get ready. However, there is one slight concern. I am, in fact, rather buzzed... in fact, you could say, I'm a bit drunk.

I call out to Roomie from my bedroom. "I need help because I'm not very sober at the moment". Roomie rushes to our vending machines and comes in w/supplies... iced tea (they were out of diet pepsi) and some chips. I eat and drink. Didn't help.

I call out again, "I can't even find anything to wear!" Roomie trots on back... and picks out this gigantic burly black sweater and a pair of baggy jeans, which I pair w/my Doc Martens that I miraculously found at the bottom of my closet. Roomie tells me I look good. It takes me until 1 am that night to realize I'm dressed like a lesbian.

I attempt to refresh the make-up... still not sure how that turned out. Roomie insists that I'm sober. I tell Roomie he needs to lay off the crack pipe and that I need to cancel.

I call Date and ask where he's at... he says "Oh I'm pretty close" followed by "Oooh... ummm... crap... yea, that's definitely a cop". Not getting the hint (because I'm still not very sober) I continue to babble on... until I hear tapping on glass and "Yea, I have to go, the police officer is now at my window".

Before Date even meets me I cost him $110 for driving and talking on the phone. After the poor kid gets lost going around Dupont Circle several times, still not sober me decides its best if Roomie (who refuses to let me cancel at this point) and I walk outside to greet him.

Date walks up and shows me the tickets... Roomie tries to be lawyerly and offers to take a look at them... which consisted of a 5 second glance and "yea, sorry dude, can't do anything about these".

After a minute of small talk, Roomie says, "well I'll let you to get going."

And then it happens.

Without thinking, and more importantly without Date knowing anything about Roomie and I's Will & Grace relationship, Roomie gives me a full-on kiss on the mouth good-bye.

But the real kicker came when Roomie said, "Oh, sorry dude! We just bought a house together today."

This poor chap... $110, a 45 minute car ride to meet a half-sober G who was just kissed by another boy she just bought a house with...

I gain enough soberity to realize I have some explanin' to do.... and quickly recap what the kiss and the house are to Date.

And to add to Date's street cred, I had an awesome time. We grabbed some much needed grub and then he insisted on going to play some pool (yes, more pool) because he had a hankering when I mentioned where we were earlier. Date was super social and made friends with half the bar. I should mention that I took him to a relatively scary bar that I normally don't take sober people to, but at this point it was close and I figured what the heck.

So, short n' sweet... Date #1 of 2006 was a success. As we all know, that means I'm never hearing from this dude again.. but hey, it could be worse! And really, can you blame him?

I hope all is well with everyone. Thanks for all the well wishes, I'm feeling much better (and I'll fill you all in on that exciting story next time.)

Smoooooch!

-G

Icky...

I hate when I have to comment to on the news, but this is unavoidable.... FYI, I would absolutely shoot these people and not feel bad about it. I really don't give a rat's bum if someone is stupid enough to be a drug mule, but making a puppy do their dirty work... GRRRRRRR..... that makes me very very mad.

N.Y.-Bound Puppies Used As Drug Couriers
By TOM HAYS, Associated Press Writer


NEW YORK - Colombian smugglers turned puppies into drug mules by surgically implanting them with packets of liquid heroin, authorities said.

Investigators believe the ring used the dogs, as well as people who swallowed the drugs, to conceal millions of dollars of heroin on commercial flights into New York for distribution on the East Coast.

Ten puppies, including Labrador retrievers, were rescued during a 2005 raid on a farm in Colombia, the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration said Wednesday, while announcing more than 30 arrests.

A veterinarian had stitched a total of 3 kilograms of heroin into the bellies of six pups. Three died from infections after the drugs were removed.

The surviving dogs "are still alive and well, we're told," said John P. Gilbride, head of the DEA's New York office.

Colombian police said they adopted three dogs, one of which was being trained to sniff for drugs.
It was unclear how many dogs might have been used in the smuggling scheme, Gilbride said.
"I think it's outrageous and heinous that they'd use small, innocent puppies in this way," he said.

Besides the pups and human swallowers, authorities said the ring based in Medellin also concealed drugs in body creams, aerosol cans, and the linings of purses and luggage.

Recent raids in Colombia resulted in more than 20 arrests; another 10 suspects were in custody in New York, Florida and North Carolina. About 24 kilograms of heroin was seized, officials said.

Insecta - Season 2 premiere!

Date tomorrow, date story to follow (but its a Jersey weekend, so it may be delayed). In the meantime, I'm so excited to give you the second season of Insecta.... for those newbies, feel free to check out last year's episodes in the archives. Here it goes:

Insecta, Season 2, Episode #1
The Old Insecta and the Sea

Insecta had arrived in Key West and was hiding out in the old Bahama Village until it was just the right time to attack. It was almost New Year's Eve. Best to ruin the whole purpose of everyone's being here in the first place, she chortled maniacally. She'd spent the day having licorice daiquiris which was making the conch fritters digesting in her thorax spin as lively as her head was.

"There's much to be done to ruin New Year's Eve," she thought. "I need some help from an ally... A new ally who'll be just as viscious and just as cruel as me!"

She hissed so loudly the miniature umbrella blew out of her drink and down the quiet, emptied street. Just then, a french woman from a local patisserie came running from her storefront to chastise Insecta for littering. Since the chastisement was in French, Insecta thought the licorice daiquiris had caused her to stop understanding English altogether.

Nonetheless, she knew anger in any language and proceeded to suck every ounce of fun out of the french lady, who's name, for those who care, was Babette Macaroni -- and who will figure into the story again later on.

Meanwhile, at one of the local beaches, Cheetah Kittens was fully reclined with a Mojito in a coconut shell. She was so desperate for a vacation when she left Vegas, she actually wore her showgirl costume all the way from Vegas to the beach.

"This is bliss," Cheetah murmured out of her richly painted lips. "It can't get any better...except maybe if David Hasselhoff came running in slow motion down this beach in swimming trunks."

Just down the beach, Las Vegas mayor Spike Marino was tossing a frisbee with cracker jack attorney, Lion Bree. Spike was in swimming trunks but kept on his famous top hat so everyone would realize he was, after all, still the mayor of Las Vegas. Lion decided his business suit was just not right for the beach so he constructed a swimsuit of cellphones and pagers so he wouldn't miss an important call.

Detective Mangy had decided to catch a sunset at Mallory square with Mr. Z. and Captain Tombeau - the former, quite drunk and the latter begging the others for a breakfast for dinner at Denny's. Captain Tombeau was reminded of his childhood upbringng everytime one of the waitresses would use an ice cream scoop to put butter on his mountain of pancakes.

Beaumont, the penguin, had donned an Hawaiian shirt and some capris and flip-flops and decided to ditch the others in favor of exploring the island on his own. As he waddled through the old Bahama village, he noticed someone he had not expected as he peeked down an alleyway.

It was Insecta.

Fortunately for the artic bird, insecta did not notice him.

"I'd better follow her to see what she's doing here," Beaumont thought.

They ended up at Ernest Hemingway's house. It was closed for tours but Insecta went inside anyway. The penguin, though less mobile, managed to sneak inside to follow her. He had to dodge the many cats that were in the yard. It wasn't easy.

Beaumont found Insecta in the writing nook of Hemingway's home on the island. Her eyes were rolled up into her head and she assumed a position of prayer.

"Oh spirit of Ernest, it is said you wander these halls. I ask you come to help me in my villainous affairs," she whispered.

The house shook slightly and suddenly a ghost that looked very like the old Ernest Hemingway appeared from out of a wall in the writing room.

"Yuck! Who the hell are you?!! Mr. Hemingway exclaimed. "I don't pop up from the dead for everyone. What the hell did you call on me for?"

"I need your help to ruin New Year's Eve," Insecta asked nicely, knowing her powers were useless against a ghost.

"Ruin New Year's?!!" Mr. Hemingway seemed puzzled.

"Yes," replied Insecta who found herself emitting pheromones at the sight of the legendary novelist.

"Hmmm. Not a bad idea. Being a ghost sucks except when you scare people any way," he responded, lighting a pipe.

Beaumont was astonished but did all in his power to prevent his small and useless wings from flapping - a habit whenever he found himself growing anxious.

"I'd better calm my nerves now before I make a mistake," he whispered to himself. So, he took a blunt he'd saved from Vegas from his capris pocket and lit it up.

"What's that smell?!!" Insecta barked loudly as the odor from Beaumont's cigar wafted into the writing room.

"Probably ghost gas," Hemingway responded, blushing slightly. "It's a little known fact that ghosts can have gas."

"NO, you idiot. That's not ghost gas. I recognize that smell! It's someone trying to have fun" she screamed.

"Let me show you what I can do to end the fun,"Mr. Hemingway said, wanting to show Insecta what he could do.

Beaumont decided he'd better get out of there now and warn the others. Ernest Hemingway grabbed copies of The Old Man and the Sea, To Have and Have Not, and The Sun Also Rises. He ran over to the window and noticed an perfectly innocent hippy walking down the sidewalk towards a local restaurant for dinner. Assuming that all hippies are always high and he must be the one who Insecta noticed, he threw the books at the unsuspecting tourist and knocked him out cold.

"Very impressive. Your aim is great," Insecta observed.

"You don't hunt in Africa on safari dozens of times and not develop your aim," Ernest Hemingway's ghost responded.

Meanwhile Beaumont waddled at top speed to reach the others and inform them of the trouble. His first priority was his best friend in the batch, Cheetah Kittens.

Survivor Key West - Part Deux

Ok, I have a date next week... this week was a bit too crazy including our conference director possibly resigning 7 weeks from our annual conference and I am still missing the first edition of Insecta, Vol. 2. So... another story of Key West it is.

Since I knew we'd be in a car for a very very very long time, I got the brillant idea to bring along a journal to track our trip... a captain's log if you will. So here, is an entry from that log (with a better explanation, to match of course).

Captain's Log
New Years' Day Night - Key West 2006

The Paul looks for some guy's watch in the trees and shrubs of El Patio's (aka El Barrio's) courtyard. Turns out the guy, who scaled a tree and the railing to get to the second floor had the watch in his pocket all along.

I know what you're thinking... wha? huh? Is this another only in the world of G stories? And yes, you'd be correct about that. The fabu 4 were enjoying an early night back (around 1 or 2 am) from Duval Street, to do one of G's favorite activities--play poker. As we get closer to the motel, we notice the lights of flashing cop cars and realize they are at our place. Not so unusual, considering our motel neighbors included: workers repairing the hurricane damage (and greeted us every morning with a fresh Budweiser in their hands), a bunch of bikers and to top it off, a group of rap music producers (who were staying at the motel because they like to mingle with the people--and boy did they looove me). Basically, we were one Confederate flag short of a race riot.

Cautiously thinking, The Paul believes that we should walk back to Duval and let the fuzz clear out. However, Curious George the Attorney (aka Roomie), decides it would be best if we march directly into the motel and see what's going on. G, realizing that it might be bad if Roomie goes in alone (as you saw from the first KW story, he has a tendency to say inappropriate things in poor timing), treks after him.

Roomie asks Biker Dude what is going on. Biker Dude says, "oh, some dumb guy got drunk, passed out and fell off the bed." We then hear the sound of an ambulance and think that maybe this guy fell pretty hard. Next we see Biker #1 with the EMT saying, "yea, we're staying on the second floor". Realizing it was Biker Dude's dumb friend that they're bringing a stretcher for, we decide to go inside and play poker. After total demoniation at the table by Roomie, (logged by him as follows: Gina on two queens with an 8 kicker, Mr. Z on a straight and The Paul on three aces), we take a brief break and go outside to the courtyard of our motel.

Enjoying the quiet, some fresh air and the super bright stars, we hear the sound of someone rustling in the bushes. Somewhat odd for 3 am or so, we look up and realize there is a guy scaling a palm tree in the courtyard. Now, I guess we should've maybe asked the guy, why is he climbing or tell him to be careful... but we could do nothing but sit and stare and wonder if the ambulance would make a return visit. The climber works his way over the railing of the 2nd floor and we here the sound of something drop. Still watching in complete amusement, the climber calls out and asks us for help. We continue to stare. Then finally, The Paul, gets up to see what this guy, who forgoed the stairs to climb a tree, could possibly want. The climber thought he had lost his watch as he was climbing up and asked The Paul to look for it and throw it up to him. Ever helpful, The Paul begins a furious search, which included some physics (measuring the trajectory of how, where and when the watch could've dropped). The rest of us continue to stare.

After about 10 minutes, the climber reaches into his pocket and says, "oh here it is, I've had it all along." Then goes into his room. The Paul walks back to the table and the three of us continue to stare.

The end of Story 2 of Survivor Key West... yet another bizarre adventure that could only happen to G.

Smooches and have a great weekend,
G

Off Hiatus

Well, well, well... a new year and it looks like its time to go fishing again. But before I start another year of good, bad and ugly dating stories... I give you a photo essay of the G holiday season.

Starting w/the Magni Xmas Bash:












Roomie enduring my drunken state at the Magni Bash













Rushing in a bike taxi to catch sunset at Mallory Square













Enjoying the glorious sunset!

Happy New Year!!

Survivor Key West

As I wait patiently for Insecta Season 2, I want to tell y'all all about my fantastic New Years trip.

Several months ago and after a successful trip to Vegas, Roomie and my pals, Insecta creator and author, The Paul and Insecta character (or is he?), Mr. Z decided we needed to plot our next adventure to ring in the New Year. Initially, we were going to choose New Orleans, but thankfully, The Paul and Mr. Z vetoed that idea and suggested Key West. I'll admit the gambling addict in me wanted to do some gambling on the Ol' Bayou, but the beach lover in me decided Key West would be just as good. Plus since none of us have hit the lottery yet, we decided to save some cash by driving... however, the only car we own between the 4 of us that could fit us was Benny, a mini SUV. While a tight fit, we decided a cozy drive down would be fun.

After the Christmas Crisis, I was super excited when The Paul and Mr. Z came to my parent's door to get me (Roomie had my car). My dad quickly bored them to pieces with questions about Benny (typical dad questions like gas mileage, etc.). Then we were off to spend the night in DC and leave fresh for Key West the next day.

Of course, when you're with G, nothing is ever as easy as it should be. Fun, maybe, but never easy.

To get to DC, we had to go through the gates of hell, also known as F***in Delaware. The state of F***in Delaware, tried to thwart our trip by causing a full hour delay to get through it. However, the Paul, Mr. Z and myself were unstoppable. The second delay was not realizing that Roomie had given Mr. Z directions. I love Roomie, but Roomie has no ability to give directions. So, after doing a full loop around DC, we finally get inside the city and look for parking. We see a wide-open spot right across the street from my humble abode and after reading the ever confusing street signs, decide we'll double check w/Roomie if it is indeed ok to park there.

Roomie comes home from yet another hard day at work, and says he's certain that we can leave the car there until 9 AM the next morning. We hit our favorite burgers y pool night and play a little poker and hit the hay for the next day.

Mr. Z and I wake up early to make coffee and move Benny. We head outside to move Benny and into the cold air, knowing that in 22 short hours we'll be in tropical paradise.

As we go to cross the street, Mr. Z looking straight ahead says, "Um... the car is gone?!"

Still groggy from sleep, I finally look up and realize Mr. Z is right. The car is gone.

Mr. Z and I cross the street and re-read the sign... trying to figure out what happened. We stand in the spot Benny was in, perplexed yet maniacially calm. We realize there is only one thing left to do... going inside and kill Roomie.

We cross back across the street and enter Roomie's bedroom (I stand inbetween Roomie and Mr. Z for Roomie's sake).

G: "Roomie... the car is gone."
Roomie: "Oh, that sucks ass."
G: "Roomie, the car that we are taking to Key West is GONE."
Roomie (admist snores): "That's ok, we'll take the other one, then."
(Feeling Mr. Z's blood pressure rise, G delves deeper between Roomie and Mr. Z)
G: "The car we need to take to Key West TODAY is gone. I need to know what we have to do to get it back. You need to GET UP and help."

Roomie instructs Mr. Z and I to go outside and call the number on the sign. We do so and come to find out that DC has performed a "courteousy tow". Courteous tow is translation for we towed your car to another part of the city and fined you $100 as a courteousy.

Fortunately, we found Benny safely resting on 17th street, although he was a little scarred from the traumatic event. Mr. Z and I safely moved Benny to another street and began the mad dash to pack up so we could leave before Benny was towed again.

When we got back, Roomie said "See... that was no big deal." Right, wake up to no car, find car, have to pay $100 fine for car. No big deal at all.... Mr. Z has low growl and I tempt him away from his thoughts of killing Roomie with bacon and more coffee.

This begins the tale of Survivor Key West... not even the horrid traffic we endured through G** D**n Virginia (quickly climbing the ranks to F***in Delaware status) could hold us back. We had the menthol cool vocal stylings of Mr. John Cougar Mellencamp to fight Mr. Z's road rage.

Stay tuned throughout the year for more...

Smooch,
G

My Griswold Family Christmas Tree

I thought you'd all like to see it!

How My Grinches Saved Christmas

I suppose there is no way of telling this story without rehashing my distasterous Christmas this year. While recounting this still fresh tale will bum me out, the final outcome will show you why this is such a great story.

As I said in past blog entries (see July's Gina's Birthday tales), after screwing up numerous birthdays and gifts, my family likes to buy me "gag" gifts to remind me of how dreadful these birthdays were. Noone likes to joke more than me, its the fact that the gag of the situation actually is the "real" gifts following the gag ones.

In the not so deep Christmas past, past gifts included: quacking slippers, tissues (w/santas on them) and a model Audi TT roadster (which made me look outside to see if they got me a real car... and they didn't but thought it was hysterical when I ran to the window).

I knew this Christmas would be no different, anticipating a few gag and bad real gifts. I tried to pre-empt this with a very specific gift list and impressing on the fact that there were things (like socks), I really needed this year and a few things I wanted--a duvet cover, a trunk and the Hallmark Snowman.

So, when I open my first gift, a set of scultpured hands my sister made in art class, I do my best to laugh as I did for gift #2, a pair of slippers which looked like feet with red toe nails. But the real gifts were: gift #3,-- a set of golden retriever playing cards (which my mother had already sent me in the mail--and had forgotten about) , gift #4 -- a jeweled brooch in the shape of a mosquito or dragonfly, gift #5 -- a beaded change purse and then finally, gift #6 (the gift that broke the camel in the manger's back) was a pair of massaging slippers.

Somewhere in between the opening of these gifts, I look up to see my brother, sister, sister-in-law and even the two dogs excited and surrounded by all the things on their Christmas list.

Now, some would say, that I was ungrateful for being upset... that I was lucky to get anything at all or even further, to have a family to spend the holiday with. And they'd be right, because in the end that is the true meaning of the holiday. However, when that same family is hysterical with glee because they think they're joking with someone never realizing they're hurting your feelings, it does tend to sting.

Call it me being selfish, call it years of pent up agression, something this Christmas just made me lose it. My parents went to hand me my next gift and I said I didn't want to open it. They immediately got defensive, said I was being ungrateful and couldn't take a joke. I asked why of all the things on my list, they didn't at least get me the Hallmark snowman and my mother said she thought I was telling her I wanted it because my dad wanted to see if she wanted one. I played along and opened the rest of my gifts. Then I went upstairs in my room and proceeded to cry for several hours until my dad came up to see what was wrong.

I guess they finally got the hint. I told my dad I couldn't go to Christmas dinner with them... that I just didn't want to be a part of the holiday anymore. I left after they did for dinner and drove to my friends' house and spent the night with them and their friends (and I was so incredibly grateful they invited me because I would've hate to spent Christmas night alone). Roomie showed up that night and managed to get me to smile by presenting me with handful of beads (yes, even something shiny would've made me happy Christmas morning).

Feeling guilty, my parents tried to remedy the situation. Last week, since they couldnt' find the Hallmark snowman which played piano, they sent me a mouse that played the piano and a family of snowmen. Again, nice thought, but still not getting it.

I remained burnt on Christmas--I told everyone who asked that Christmas was the usual, but it really sucked. When the Schmeffster asked, I told him I thought that maybe next Christmas, I'd keep it more subdued. That maybe, I was over the whole Christmas thing.

And up until 3 hours ago, I still felt the same way. I felt no excitement taking down the Christmas decorations and took them down the minute I could, I threw poor Thaddeus the tree in our dumpster without my traditional goodbye (Schmeff will tell you this is when I usually hug the tree, thank him for a good year and tell him I look forward to him sending me a good tree next year...proceeded by several whimpers). Nothing. Glad it was done and out.

Again, until 3 hours ago... after coming home from a horrible 8-6 day at the office where I find nothing was done that I needed done, my doorman flags me down and gives me two packages. I wasn't expecting anything, especially nothing from PA.

So, I open the first package... and there it is... the Hallmark Snowman. I can't believe it. I'm in shock. I call my dad and ask him if he bought it on eBay. He's just as baffled as I am. Roomie walks in... and I say, "Look someone bought me the Hallmark Snowman!".

He takes a long look at it and the package with his name on it. And says, "No, two people did because mine is in that box."

I'm completely stunned. Two Hallmark Snowmen? I can't believe the caring and thought behind one, but two? Which two people in this world could love me that much to think of and track down the one gift that would make me so happy.

Yup, in guess you haven't guessed it, its the only other person in this world infected by Ginaitis (and he had it for 6 years), the one and only Schmeffster.

The two people who have and had had to endure the G Christmas season in full force, with all the holiday decor and music and the ever-annoying G Gets a Christmas tree day, would rather see me dance excitedly around a snowman that plays Christmas carols on a fake piano than have my Christmas spirit perish in the family pyre.

That my friends, is some serious G love. When I figured out the second mystery snowman giver, I called Schmeff who said he was afraid the world would implode if I stopped liking Christmas, so he had no choice but to save the universe.

And maybe it's not the cure to cancer or the answer to world peace, but in this world, the world of G, it sure did save the day twice over.

Two (if only slightly delayed) Christmas miracles by two extrordinary people, restoring my faith and love in the holiday.

I remain blown away by the thought (and creeped out that I managed to morph the minds of two people to think like me--but maybe its my superpower) .

I both thank and love you both... not only for the snowman but having the courage, power and strength to live with me (or as you'd say, put up with me).

Smooches,
G

The Holiday Season at its Finest

I'm slightly nervous about posting this because a few weeks ago my dad learned how to "google". So, I'm hoping they can't track this down (especially since I'd never hear the end of the Driving Chronicles)... but here it is, my mother with Breasty the Snowman at the holiday dinner.

Snap Back to Reality (almost)...

Hello my favorite people of the Northeast...

I am back in DC (physically, at least). The biggest questions I have at the moment is why there are NO palm trees in this area and why they don't sell pina coladas on the street, oh and finally, why do I have to go to work this Monday?

For those of you wondering, the last few weeks have gone as follows:

**Home for the traditional M12 Christmas party -- yet another fun year and Roomie was able to finally meet the kids from home whom I adore so much.

**Back home (again) for Christmas -- oy, this story is to come... the fam outdid themselves this season bringing me to tears from all the horrid "joke" gifts... i will recount the story most likely in february when it stops making me cry.

**Road trip to glorious Key West -- Ah, me likey a place where at 6 PM on New Year's Eve I'm playing frisbee in the 71 degree ocean... me also likey a place where a drag queen drops out of a ruby slipper instead of the ball dropping in times square AND a place where gina is handed beads on the street and gets to wear a feather boa.

So, I'm trying to readjust to normalcy or until my business plans in KW go through... hopefully sooner rather than later.

Happy New Year to all and to all a good weekend.

smooch,
G

Yea, I'm back

Back from Key West... long 22 hour drive.. Details later...

God Bless the Garden State

Senator Pushes 'Born to Run' License Tags

A New Jersey lawmaker is hoping to get mileage from Bruce Springsteen's classic album "Born to Run." (doesn't make us sound like a bunch of non-commiters or criminals or anything)
State Sen. Raymond Lesniak is driving a proposal introduced Thursday to create specialty "Born to Run" license tags for Garden State drivers. Proceeds would go to the Community Food Bank of New Jersey, a Springsteen-supported charity.
To become law, the bill must be approved by both houses of the Legislature by Jan. 9, the last day of the session, and be signed by the governor. The tags would cost $50, plus a $10 annual contribution.
Causes promoted through special-interest plates include wildlife conservation, the Battleship New Jersey and cancer awareness, among others.
Springsteen, who was in the capital city last month for the final stop on his "Devils & Dust" solo acoustic tour, also was recognized Thursday for his contributions to New Jersey and popular music.
A resolution honoring The Boss on the 30th anniversary of "Born to Run" was approved in a voice vote by the state Senate. Senators heard a recording of Springsteen's "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town" before casting their votes. (now that imagery is just down right funny--bunch of toe tapping Senators listening to Santa Claus)
A similar resolution failed last month in the Republican-controlled U.S. Senate, a snub attributed to Springsteen's vocal campaigning for Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry a year earlier.
"That was not a very good thing to do," Lesniak said of the Republican brushoff. "In New Jersey, elected officials — Republican and Democrat — love Bruce, respect what he stands for. Everyone knows The Boss is from New Jersey, so I thought it would be fitting and proper to honor him and the E Street Band."
"Born to Run" embodies a lot of the New Jersey attitude (wtf, are you talkin' to me?!), added Lesniak, a native of Elizabeth who said he has been to more than 50 Springsteen concerts. "We're on the move. We go away. We come back. Look at Springsteen. He's been around the world several times. He could live anywhere. But he still comes back to live in New Jersey." (all Jerseyites do... its a very distinctive form of inbreeding. I know, even I will return to the fresh air of the Garden State one day...)

Smooch,

G

Welcome to the Family....

Here are some G-family gid-bits:

The Reunion
Somehow I've turned into the cruise director for our family.... something about me being the one most likely to get a party started or what not. Anyway, this year I tried to put together a Christmas reunion party for my dad's side of the family in NYC. As I'm driving up to the restaurant my cousin calls and says "I just want to let you know there are about 50 drunk Santas outside the place." I look at sure enough there are dirty Santas, Mexican Santas, evil Elfs, snowman and the like (see www.santacon.com for full details and fantastically evil Xmas carols)... Concerned my family wouldn't take to the drunkness, I call and let them know and then go inside to secure our table.

As I'm waiting, I notice my dad's car go by on the street... 5 minutes later, still no family. I walk outside and there is my entire party of 12 in the street partying with the drunken Santa brigade. My mother in her traditional holiday sweater was held in the highest regard and Santas were getting pictures with her. Meanwhile, my crazy Aunt Jeanne (who I love with all my heart mostly because of the fantastic black feather boa she bought me this year) saw Breasty the Snowman who my sister (after getting another Santa's number) brought inside...

But the party didn't end there... since I was in town, Schmeffster and his lady decided to meet up with me for an after family toddy. Stuck in the traditional Lincoln Tunnel traffic (ah, you can't pay me to move back there), we head for the tree without him figuring we will catch up eventually. Ah, the tree.. nice and big and pretty. But I digress, Saks has added a fantastic snow flake light show this year, set to music and everything... as I'm watching, Schmeffster calls to tell me he's watching the light show too but he doesn't see me. Not the right thing to say to a large Italian family... on the count of 3, my family belts out "JEFFFFFFYYYYYYYYYYYY" as loud as they can (keep in mind I was louder than a fleet of cars at a NASCAR race so times me by 6)... poor poor Lady... what a lovely way to be introduced to my family. (Oh and did I mention the part where my sister called her the wrong name).

More on Kath...
After 3 missed calls on a Monday morning, I call my mother (aka Kath) on my way to this press conf at the national press club... and i tell her, i'm on my way to a press conference. When I get inside, instinct tells me to turn off my ringer. After the conference I look down at my phone and guess who had called... the Kathster.

I call her after the mtg. and say, "Do you know why cell phone providers invented the silent ringer?"

She said, "For mothers who forget their daughters are in press conferences."

A Letter to the Big Man...

Dear Santa,

I'm writing this to you and posting it on my blog because my readers have been complaining that its been 12 days since I've written anything.

I've given it alot of thought and this is what I want for Christmas:

1. A year's supply of grande breve lattes. In true Mangiaracina style, my parents have tried to give me this by handing me a "slightly used" Starbucks gift card yesterday. Thankfully, there was enough for one latte on there. (stay tuned for more highlights of G's family gift giving)

2. Sunglasses. I apparently lost mine and will never see them again... along with the person who has them. I know, Mr. Claus, I need to keep better track of these things, but unfortunately my corneas are burning out w/o them.

3. A heated lotion dispenser. For no other reason than that this seems like the most ridiculous waste of money I've ever seen. But I'm guessing once I've had warmed lotion, I'll never want cold lotion again.

4. Enough money to buy lil' Paulie all the Thomas the trains there are... being able to see his face light up was worth every penny.

5. Time to blog every day so people won't get all crazy like on me. (ok, this sounds more like a new year's resolution.. so you can file that underneath exercise, eating right and blah blah)

6. Socks. Sadly, I'm still wearing Halloween ones because my socks have vanished in my apt's laundry room.

7. A magical bank account... so my bills from my upcoming trips to Key West and the Bahamas are mysteriously covered.

8. Fabulous shoes that don't hurt when you wear them. I'm guessing this also falls into the magical category, so Dorothy's ruby slippers will be fine.

9. Crayons. I've learned this year, I really miss them.

10. This year's Hallmark snowman that plays the piano because its not annoying enough just to have the other two...

11. The ability to shut Roomie down at pool. Fair and square.

12. A never-ending sea of fabulous purses.... ahhhh, that's as good as sugar plums in my head.. oh and hats too!

13. A new showerhead... Roomie broke the evil one which attacked me a few times this year.

14. A lump of coal to the man who developed the evil shower head which attacked me and the broke on Roomie this morning causing a tsunami in our bathroom (yes, Santa similar to the one I caused while washing the wok earlier this year--and that is not code for anything dirty in anyway).

See Santa, I don't want that much for Christmas... I'm not even going to ask that you bring me a boy this holiday or a puppy (although the puppy would take priority over the boy)... I think the ones you sent me this past year have done enough to keep me being careful what I wish for...

And I want to thank you too Santa for the same things you bring me every year... a gi-normous tree, the capability to make my apt. look like Christmas threw up in it and the bestest people in my life.

Happy holidays to all!

Love,
G

Christmas and Gina: Perfect Together

A message from the Schmeffster on the importance of Christmas in my world. Note the sheer brillance and Schmeffy's Christmas gift to me.. the start of my own foundation! I no longer have to just work for one!!!

Dear Gina's Roomie,

Christmas is a very important time of year for Gina.... She will cry and make your life miserable if the following does not occur:

1. You let her pick a big tree. The biggest tree the apartment will fit...or the absolute largest tree on the lot...or any lot within 30 square miles, whichever is smaller.
2. You get just as excited when commericals for Rudolph, the Grinch, Scrooged, Christmas Vacation or The Year w/o a Santa Claus air (NOTE: you do not HAVE to watch them, but do not mock them)
3. Understand that the tree is the pinnacle of her xmas season...
4. Realize you have no control over the amount of decorations in the apt... but she WILL NOT put any of them in your room (if you request so)
5. Also note, she names her tree....every year. (past names include: Tyler, Taylor, Timothy and Thomas). accept it.

After 6 years of living with her, I learned that it is much easier to succumb and get through this one holiday, then fight it.

all the best,
schmeffster

(this message has been paid for by the gina mangiaracina foundation: dedicated to the promotion and preservation of gina's happiness...and for children who can't read good and wanna learn to do other stuff go too)

Achoo!! Cough, cough... Bleck! and Poor Bob...

I'm still sick kids, I was even out of work today. :-(

This is definitely hindering the dating adventures you all know and love so well... sad to say, I was supposed to go out with a Brit that spent 10 years studying the behavior of ants and lived on an uninhabited island for 6 months, but I cancelled the first time due to being in shock over my ticket and then he emailed today to tell me he found someone else. I have to admit, his profile was so over the top, it was more just going out with him to see why anyone would study the behavior of ants...

But I digress... so I'm under the covers and web surfing and found this little news tidbit... it addition to Melissa's post about the new book "Atkins is Dead, Pass the Bread", I'm feeling a little bad about my poor, gone but not forgotten Bobster these days...

"Hershey's is the most powerful brand among U.S. consumers ages 13-49, followed by M&M's, Reeses and Oreo. Is it any wonder, then, that Atkins was the least-liked among 1,079 brands surveyed, according to "BrandPower," a new study conducted by Genius Insight, New York?"

Ah Bob, he had such a good plan..

I'm heading back to bed now... I've officially slept more than I've been awake in the past 4 days...

Smooch,
G

How I Survived Thanksgiving....

I hope everyone is coming down off their trytophan highs and ready to enter The Holiday Season. The time of year when thinking unpleasant and violent thoughts about traffic, crowds and the long lines of people in holiday sweaters trying to save $2 on a crappy gift noone really wants leads us to believe that our families ain't so bad.

Some of you are wondering how I managed to escape from the clutches of my father... sorry to say I did not get any audio or visual to support my tale. I do have some tips though in case anyone has any news they need to break to their family this holiday season:

Tip #1 -- Develop a Cold
That's right, lick people's cups, grab a hold of those escalator rails and then smoosh all that bacteria on your eyes, ears, nose and throat. I spent this entire holiday weekend on the bench with a horrific cold, that included losing my voice. Nothing sounds more pathetic than someone who can barely speak and starts coughing up every time she says too much. This is also highly effective when done at a full family dinner table. Something about people not wanting to be sick as you are spewing up various things....

Tip #2 -- Gauge your Audience
I slowly broke the news to family members... gearing everyone up for the big event. The hardest step prior to the grand finale was telling Mom (aka the Kathster). Her suggestion was to wait until he had finished both dinner and dessert, thus giving me a head start should I have to run.

Tip #3 -- Create a Diversion
Slightly feverish and slightly tipsy, the whole "I got a ticket" thing was introduced by a mole (probably my sister). Someone got talking on the subject of being pulled over. With the help of the rest of the fam who knew I had to confess, we got through the rest of the family's speeding history... when my dad started talking about his own tickets (including the Maryland ones), I knew I had him.

With all three elements in place, I finally chimed in with "I wish the cops were that nice to me when I got a ticket". Dad took the bait and said "when did you get a ticket"... so I explained the details about how the sun was in my eyes (and thanks to the MD police and my entire family, I know you're supposed to slow down when that happens).

Fortunately, Dad had a bit of wine, alot of turkey and 3 pieces of pie... AND most importantly and Tip #4, we had a packed audience... there was no way he could kill me with all those witnesses... even if they were family.

Either that or Daddy's grown soft in his old age... but I'm guessing when the insurance gets upped, this light chuckle, pay the damn ticket or I will break your knee caps attitude may change a bit...

As for the rest of the weekend... we came home Thanksgiving night and had no heat, thus forcing me to sleep in my ski jacket, hat, and 14 blankets... and upping my cold and making me even more miserable... so, I spent the rest of the weekend on the couch being ill.

I hope everyone had a great holiday...

Smooch,
G

it could be worse....

I guess I could be telling my parents I'm pregnant this holiday season.... but as I told to shmotty, here's the tale I will be telling Daddy (who we all know from the Driving Chronicles) over the yams:

Me: good morning scotty
shmotty: morning
Me: just curious.. how much would you pay for a pay-per-view live special of me telling my dad about the 30+ over speeding ticket i got over the thanksgiving turkey?
shmotty: lots
Me: i'm thinking it may be a good way to raise the cash for it
shmotty: 30+??
Me: sorry, he gave me 84 in a 55
Me: 29
shmotty: that's good, 30+ is reckless
shmotty: 5 pts
Me: yea i don't know what 29 is
Me: other than my age
Me: and probably the number of times my dad will say goddamnit ginamarie
shmotty: so ungrateful
Me: yea...that too
Me: and "how many times did i tell you.. you drive too damn fast"
Me: then kath with: "you're lucky you didn't get killed.. or kill someone else"
shmotty: sorry, no christmas present for you
Me: you know with this parenting gig, you get to use some great lines.. don't forget that when emmy is older
Me: i can compile a list for you
shmotty: your parents have given a few good gems
Me: yea… at least if they tell me to go to my room.. it means i go back to my apt this year

So, I wish you all a happy Turkey day... and if I can get a webcam up or a tape recorder (which maybe roomie will bring).. I'll try to get you a live account of G getting skinned alive at the dinner table.

Smooch,
G

ADDENDUM for Flounder

Flounder has informed me I left out several important details. Normally, I would just leave as a comment, but after thinking about it, he's right... and I will correct the record.

1. Flounder did pay for absolutely everything. In fact, I owe him a $1.50 because I got him a water with his money and completely for got to give him his change.

2. Flounder showed excessively good manners including opening my doors and constantly paid attention to make sure I was ok, having a good time, that I ate dinner, etc.

3. To the Flummoxer: I was in no way slighting the importance of you in this story. After the Eagles choke job, you definitely took first place as the highlight of the evening. Watching Flounder squirm under the scrutiny of one of his friends was more punishment than I could ever dish out. This is mainly because we all know boys stop listening to women yapping after awhile.

4. Due to the late time of getting home, I forgot to 1. clean up my mess of water and snapple bottles in his car and 2. left my sunglasses there (and for the record, this was a real accident.. not a leave behind.. you try remembering everything at close to 4 am, it ain't easy).

So to add to Flounder's street cred, I will say he managed to be among the top dates I've had down here yet. Of course, we all know that's not saying TOO much... even though Flounder did say he spoiled me... I guess I would half agree that I was spoiled, and fully agree based on the comparision of my other dates.

Smooch,
G

Return from Bolivia -- Finding Flounder

Hola my blog readers,

Well after my 12 hour snooze yesterday , I am back.

So, the question of the day... why/how was G at the Eagles/Cowboys game on Monday? And (if your my mom) why didn't I have the courteousy to stop by and say hello....

The answer is Flounder.

That's right, kids... he's baaaaack. So, I give you the story of how Flounder did his best to regain his street cred....

Sunday PM --
After dropping, the Schmeffster off at the train station, I notice that Flounder sent me a message... half groggy from our weekend of dc drinking and debauchery (kidding about the debauchery, ok half kidding)... I figure, what the heck, I'll give a call back, I'm about to crash anyway.

Well after the constant tough love (PR word for bashing) comments and my persistent please leave me alone emails, Flounder calls to tell me that he has tickets to Monday Night Football and would I like to go with... I immediately started laughing (maybe not entirely audibly, but laugh I did) at the fish that cried wolf one too many times. First, it's funny that he's calling with the same story, second, its hysterical that he thinks I can just walk into work and decide I'm leaving early. Anyway, to be fair, I say I'll do my best. Then, of course, I start a small tribunal with Melissa and Roomie to try to figure out if I should bother to go or not. Roomie, as always, lays out the pros and cons, but refuses to commit to an answer. Melissa, and this was the shocker and the final kicker, decides I have to go. For those of you who don't know, Melissa is the other half of my brain. Rarely, can I make decisions with out her... and even though were several hundred miles apart, I call her even if I lose something in my room. I imagine I'll be doing the same thing when I'm old and gray and can't find my teeth. So, if anyone ever needs to sell me on anything, I'd highly suggest selling her first.

Monday AM--
I'm going. I'm not going. I have so much work to do. This is the Eagles. Damn, he's got me there. Worst case scenario: I need to escape so I call up my dad. Will he be pissed I'm in Philly at the game... probably.. but he'd come and get me, that's what dads do.

9 AM
Boss gives the ok. I email to get directions to meet up with Flounder.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick Tock. This dude is bailing on me again.

11 AM
Flounder emails the deets.

3:30 PM
Out of work and off to the game.

6 PM
Arrive in Philly and meet Flounder's school of fish and begin tailgate (which by the way, looks the same as a NASCAR tailgate with slightly better RVs). Nice guys, truly. After several beers and even nicer gal begs a RV to let me use the bathroom.

Just as we're about to start our venture into the stadium, Flounder's pal, the Flummoxer, asks the question I was waiting for...

"So how did you two meet?"

(Karma, my friends is a bitch)

I do nothing but put on my best G smile and say "Oh.. why don't you tell him".

That's about all the Flummoxer needed to go into a 15 minute interrogation on Flounder. What do you mean it took you a month to call her? What were you doing that entire time? I don't understand.

Flounder replied with "Uhhhh... I... Ummmm"

Luckily, the Eagles prevailed and we packed up and went inside. Flounder admits that he waited to give me directions because he wanted to make me sweat whether or not he was going to bail. But I digress, in the 200 level of the Link, I found my sports terrets home. Man, I missed Philly fans... people cursing and shouting even when we made a TD, because it wasn't done well enough. Simply brillant. Although the game ended badly (really McNabb, Chunky soup is not going to be a long-term career move for ya), I had yet another good time w/Flounder (who by the way hates the nickname Flounder, hence the excessive usage).

2 AM
We finally get out of the parking lot.... typical PA decides to close 95 down to one lane for construction on game night. Ugh. I doze in and out (in Flounder's defense, he did keep telling me to nap, but I was trying to stay awake so he would stay awake) until we finally arrive back to his house at almost 4. I finally get home at 4:30 or so, and realizing I'm only going to get about an hour of sleep, hit the pillow.

So, there it is, another fish tale. Has Flounder completely cleared his name? Well, that's why you kids comment on the blog to decide things like that. In my opinion, taking me to the biggest game of the season knowing that he'd have close to 12 hours of non-stop G time is a start. He did mention something today that "he may surprise me"... but I guess we'll all have to wait and see. I'm sure there is no pressure for him when he knows that everyone (including himself) reads this (again, I didn't give anyone he knows this blog address). But since I'm a bit tired and incoherent, I'll end with my favorite Bono quote "A woman needs a man, like a fish needs a bicycle"... and a special thanks to the Flummoxer and the nice gal who helped me find a much need potty.

Smooches,
G

NJ Humor

And just to keep you busy... here is a funny article I saw. My entry would be: say it loud.. i'm jersey and proud.... and another I read was "New Jersey: A Great Place to Be From"

Get a Load of This! N.J. Seeks New Slogan
By JOHN CURRAN, Associated Press WriterMon Nov 14, 6:40 PM ET

Make us a slogan we can't refuse, the state of New Jersey said. We got your slogan right here, the people replied.

A push to come up with a new slogan for the Garden State has become an excuse to crack New Jersey jokes. Among the not-so-serious entries:

"New Jersey: You Got a Problem With That?"
"NJ: How You Doin'?!"

And "Most of Our Elected Officials Have Not Been Indicted."
The search yielded nearly 6,200 possibilities in all, many of them attempts to sum up the land of Bruce Springsteen, "The Sopranos" and smelly interstates in one pithy phrase. The deadline for submissions was Monday.

"We're really pleased with the response and proud that New Jersey residents take so much pride in their state," said Kelley Heck, a spokeswoman for acting Gov. Richard J. Codey.
The program began last month after Codey rejected a consultant's recommendation — "New Jersey: We'll Win You Over" — as too negative. That slogan, developed as part of a $260,000 contract by global image consultants Lippincott Mercer, was shelved a day before it was to be unveiled.

Instead, the state opened the process to the public, establishing a Web site and telephone hot line to receive suggestions, which included the lyrical ("The Ocean, The Motion, The Magic") along with the satirical.

New Jersey, which once used "New Jersey and You: Perfect Together," has not had a new marketing slogan in four years. "Get Away, Without Going Far Away" has been used in the interim, but tourism officials say it does not resonate with out-of-staters.

"We have the opportunity to craft a new message for our tourist literature to reflect the pride we have in our many parks, open spaces, farmlands, quaint villages, boardwalks and beaches and our exciting cities," Codey implored would-be slogan writers on the Web site.

The governor and the state Commerce, Economic Growth and Tourism Commission will "pare down the suggestions and go from there," said Karen Wolfe, a commission spokeswoman.
The state's musical legacy — Frank Sinatra called New Jersey home, Springsteen still does — led one person to suggest "From Ol' Blue Eyes to the Boss: Jersey Is Singing Your Song." Another entry: "Born to Fun."

Others found New Jersey's reputation for mobsters, toxic waste sites and lowbrow taste fair game. "Bada Bing! Choose New Jersey" was one suggestion.

The campaign was run by the state, but newspaper columnists, talk radio and "Saturday Night Live" got into the spirit, too.

"New Jersey: It Always Smells Like This," one Philadelphia Inquirer reader suggested. "New Jersey: Come Glow With Us," another said.

Codey and his staff will evaluate the slogan proposals and within two weeks pick five or 10 that will be put to a public vote, perhaps in the same way the suggestions were collected.
The governor, who is filling an unexpired term, expects to announce the new slogan by the time he leaves office in January, Heck said.

Really? Still Debating?

Can't we all just get along? I know, I know... what are people to do when I don't blog in several days...

Here's the short story and tonight, you'll get the long one.

Schmeffster was in town, and we walked the entire town and did almost everything DC possible.

I finally attended my first football game and watched Mr. McNabb choke in person.... (no worries, NJ folks, I totally screamed at him.)

All of the above are long and sorted tails.... and will be clarified very very soon.

Smooches to all and for crikey's sake enough debating about the booze!

love,
G

Help Me Settle An Arguement

I'd love to have a great story to tell you about my date.. but let's put it this way, I left at 7:45, got home by 9:05 and now I'm blogging. Ah, another day, another crappy boy...

On to a bigger issue... help me settle this debate I'm having with my roomie.

Are there such things as seasonal drinks? For my next date, I'm heading to some bar in some old famous DC hotel tomorrow.... I read they have mint juleps and even though I went out for the Kentucky Derby (and lost money, might I add), I did not get to have my mint julep. So I was excited, until I was told that I couldn't have a mint julep because it is out of season.

My side of the arguement is that the only seasonal drinks are egg nog and possibly hot toddies... but here are both sides. You all decide:

Roomie: Mint juleps are a spring drink. Very Kentucky Derby.

Me: Booze is booze no matter what the season.

Roomie:The Mint Julep was probably first made in Georgia, although Virginia lays claim as well. Kentucky though, may very well take credit for its popularity. It is the official drink of the Kentucky Derby. Leaves in, leaves out, straw or no straw, crush, layer, or muddle... This is an issue bartenders will debate forever. Shaved ice, Bourbon, sugar, and mint (not peppermint or spearmint) are not debated in the South. For the absolute best flavor, however you decide to make it, try putting it in the refrigerator for at least a half an hour before serving it. (by the way whoever got past the first sentence, got farther than I did)

Me: Still see nothing about the season.

Roomie: "It is the official drink of the Kentucky Derby." The classic American horse race, the Kentucky Derby is the oldest consecutively held Thoroughbred race in America. It is run annually on the first Saturday in May at Churchill Downs in Louisville, Kentucky.

Me: Does not say it is the ONLY time it can be drank. Budweiser is the "OFFICIAL" beer of football season... sure don't see that being restricted throughout the summer. Egg nog - a seasonally restricted drink Hot Toddy - a seasonally restricted drink... Mint Julep is NOT restricted. Stick to what you know.. like big words and law. I'll handle the booze knowledge.

Roomie: Are Hot Toddy's truly seasonal drinks? What about a cold snap in June? What if you live in the northern climes or Siberian steppes or Norwegian fjords? (warned you about the big words) Couldn't it be argued that most drinks have their season? Aren't G&Ts really a summer drink? Is New Year's the "season" for Champagne? And Bloody Mary's after 3PM are technically gauche.(sure, why not say inappropriate or uncool.. have to go with gauche, right? its the word that's sweeping the nation) Applying your apparent "no season specific thus no season" rule would seem either to violate this rule or to require the absurd result that the "seasons" change once a day, every day. Your sparkling Budweiser example notwithstanding, I think this message firmly establishes my booze fluency. (you people try living with a litigator, you should see us trying to get groceries... I think I had to ask for a podium to make my stand on regular vs. spicy mustard at Costco)

Ok, my peeps... you be the judge.

Smooch,
G

To Mr. Deathanchor

You asked for my input... you got it.

First to my friends, you people are really starting to scare me. I have a bad feeling I'm going to visit Jersey and find a big picture of me on a billboard saying "Date My Friend, PLEASE!"

To Mr. DeathAnchor, I thought my blog was marked private, but from what I hear, it's getting passed around like some grass roots effort. And if you don't know anyone on this blog, that's obviously true! And that's fine by me... I'm hoping that someone will give me a book deal so I can never have to work again. So please, pass along.

Anyway, you'll have to keep reading to find out about more about me and I'll do the same. The past entries are funnier than most, in my opinion. I enjoyed reading your blog too by the way.

Telecomedian is right about NJ, though (and I'm pretty sure he called you Bruce Willis, which is interesting). I spent 11 years going up and down the NJ turnpike, I can't go back to it quite yet.

Until then, everyone keep on posting comments, they make me smile! And I'll do my best to keep y'all updated. Nothing too exciting to report... I think today's hostile comments about Flounder have officially exorcised this demon from my world. But I've thought that about others and eventually they all come back... it is the good ones that manage to escape forever.

I'll have some more stories though.. I got 2 dates this week and 2 next. Well for now.... we all know how this goes.

Stay tuned.

Smooch,
G

Batting 1000

Wow. Ever think there are days that you shouldn't bother to wake up?

I have to tell you all, I've hit a new record low.

First, I fell for the same song and dance twice... on Friday, Flounder calls out of the blue again and offered tickets to the Redskins/Eagles game, which made me super excited all weekend since I've always wanted to go to a football game AND it is the Eagles, which thanks to Schmeffy I've now got a hankering for watching. And despite the recent suspension of T.O. (which to me is a good thing, never liked the guy), this was going to be me, seeing the Eagles live! Instead of yelling at my TV until my roommate changes the channel, I could go and yell with the other 90,000 people in the stadium (thus satisfying my sports terrets). Well, this morning he calls to tell me the tickets he thought he had, he no longer has. Thus would end my Eagles experience, just 8 short hours prior to kick off.

Trying to shake off the "fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me" feeling, I go to brunch (which for me meant mimosas) with a gal pal... feeling a little better with the taste of champagne and OJ in me, I come home to check my email and get the below letter. Can I just tell you I never even met this person...

So, for a good laugh at my own expense, I give you the second time I got dumped today in writing:

Hey Gina,

Glad to hear you're feelin' better!

My week included a disaster. I've been on this match.com thing for a month now, and I have been in contact with you (!) and this one other girl, who for whatever reason seemed very compatible with me. Anyway, we decide to go to lunch on Friday, and I get to the restaurant first, and I'm all nervous thinking this girl could be the one, and she calls me when she gets in the restaurant asking me where I was sitting. Gina, I got up and saw her on the cell phone waving to me, and her Match.com picture must have been taken during her sophomore year of high school. She had to have been about 50 to 75 pounds more than her "about average" listing led me to believe. There was no way I could get out. Longest lunch of my life. I'm sure she was very interesting, and I just kept smiling and nodding my head at what she was saying, but I didn't hear any of it ... I was just thinking to myself, how did I get myself into this situation??!! I was actually about to call you on the way back to the office, just because I thought you might understand the pitfalls of match.com!

Anyway, listen. I have to be honest and tell ya that I don't think you're exactly my dating type, and I probably can't even explain why, only that I'm weird in the way I think. Who knows, you might even feel that about me. That said, you seem incredibly cool, you're hysterical, and I feel like we could of grown up together on the same block. I would love to meet you over a beer, watch a game, go Christmas shopping, whatever, if you're up for it. If you don't have time for that sort of thing I understand. But you seem like a great girl.

Lemmee know if you ever want to hang out. Otherwise I wish you lots of luck (or at least better luck than I had!)

John


Yea, I'm having a taking a bath w/my toaster moment today, my friends. But, I'm sure you all see the humor in this day and one day I will too. Just not today. Today, I'm pretty much packing it in and going to sleep until tomorrow.

Hope everyone is enjoying the sunshine. I kind of wish it was raining myself or that my internet was disconnected.

Smooch,
G

My Godson Is One Cute Kid