Archive | October, 2012

Vampires, my friends, vampires

31 Oct

Halloween 2012 – post Sandy.  There’s electricity in the house and my basement was spared an apocalyptic flood.  Clearly I’ve done something right in my life.  Or perhaps it was Karma’s way of telling me I’d suffered enough after having to sleep on the top bunks in Damien and Lucy(fer)’s rooms during the storm.  You’d be amazed at how a hurricane doesn’t seem quite so bad after you’ve been trapped-with limited amounts of alcohol and chocolate-in the same house with your family for an extended period of time.

But alas, I digress.

Here we are on Halloween night.  Due to the storm Trick or Treating has been postponed until Sunday.  Which is kind of awesome for kids because they can play all stupid and go tonight and on Sunday.  And they can go to the towns that have postponed to Friday, or Saturday or Monday – and they can fill their plastic pumpkins with loads of goodies.  Thus giving birth to another generation of obesity).

What’s a girl to do?

Long gone are my days of dressing up like a white trash skank and getting hammered downtown.  No more dressing up like a southern belle and doing body shots of Southern Comfort at 3:00 in the afternoon.  Goodbye to the days of waking up on November first still wearing my vampire fangs and missing one shoe.  And a very fond farewell to dressing up as a “bad influence” and handing out cigarettes or giving people shots of tequila.  Those days are over now.

In my late 30’s, Halloween has a more sophisticated feel.  Take tonight, for example.  Picture this: me sitting on the couch, wearing sweatpants, watching “Lost Boys” while, eating all the good candy out of the bowl, and drinking wine?

Happy Halloween!

Taylor Swift and I have so much in common

27 Oct

That’s it!  I knew it!!  I freaking knew it!!  Proof positive that there is something horribly wrong with me – which explains my perpetual singleton-ness.  So let me spell out what happened to confirm that I have some strange vibe that repels all men (aside from those who are married, emotionally retarded, or too young).  Obviously Taylor Swift and I have a lot in common.  Sure, sure, I don’t date people like a Kennedy, or John Mayer, or Jake Gyllenhall, or anyone at all.  Nor can I carry a tune or look like a Barbie doll.  But whatever.  I can totally relate to her.  Clearly Taylor Swift isn’t the only one who has trouble with relationships.

There’s this girl at work who I’m friends with on Facebook.  We’ve spoken a few times and share a love for Wegmans.  That seams about it.  This isn’t one of those regular coworkers that you’re like, “she’s cool as shit”.  She’s one of those, “Jesus, she is freaking weird.”  Take her Facebook page as evidence.  When I see statuses like:

  • “My two great loves, boyfriend and beach…brought to you by the letter B.”
  • “…is having a serious love affair with brown rice these days. :-)”
  • “Whole wheat pancakes and organic strawberries for breakfast. :)”
  • “…and honey went old school and watched The Addams Family last night. I forgot how much I loved that movie!!!! :-)”

It reminds me that I have an exciting life.  True my life isn’t filled with whole wheat pancakes or brown rice, but it’s pretty good.  She spends most of her time writing about yoga, organic food, and her boyfriend.

He’s a weird one too.  He’s the type of guy that as soon as you look at him you think, “he’s got a Disney credit card and he is WAY too into Star Wars.”  My guess is he played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons or Magic the Gathering growing up.  Just a feeling.  Her cover photo is of Tinkerbell, her profile pictures if of her new Hello Kitty tattoo, AND her first trip with her boyfriend was to a Star Trek convention…where they BOTH dressed up.  And they didn’t dress up like awesome characters, they dressed up as lame ass characters from some obscure episode or some shit.  Not cool.

On the way to Atlantic City (notice that I wrote “on the way” and not “in”) yesterday they got engaged.  I know because Facebook tells me so.

Meanwhile, I’m like, WHAT THE FUCK!  How does someone as weird as she is have a fiance and I can’t get a normal date to save my life.  There’s only one possible explanation: I was kidnapped by aliens at some point in my life and they’ve done something to me that repels normal men.

For reals though, I think it’s time to just get a bunch of fucking cats, learn how to knit, start drinking tea, carrying Vera Bradley bags and just giving up.

Free babysitting available

25 Oct

Babysitting. Just me, some formula, and a 3 month old baby.

My friend told me not to let the baby fall asleep or she’d be up all night. Apparently the little angel doesn’t like sleeping through the night. Instead she enjoys crying and being held. My girlfriend looks like death some mornings.

So here I am holding a sweet little baby in my arms. A sweet little sleeping baby. Am not waking her little ass up. Fuck that. She looks too cute. And also I’m watching “Family Guy” and don’t want to be disturbed.

I’d be a great mom.


My liver’s not what it used to be

24 Oct

Here’s what I learned after my reunion with my friend from college on Monday: I’m too old to be going out on a Monday.  Three beers – with a very high alcohol content – knocked me on my old ass on Tuesday.  As a matter of fact, it’s quite possible that I’m still drunk right now.  Yes, I know it’s two days later, and yes, it’s possibly related to the fact that I had another beer today.

Sunday night it seemed like a good idea to go drinking.  Monday afternoon it seemed stupid.  Monday night it was an amazingly awesome idea.  Tuesday morning I cursed myself while dragging my ass into work.  Tuesday night I was so happy to go to sleep. And tonight going out seemed like a smart plan.

Will let you know how it all plays out tomorrow.  If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’m too drunk to type…until Friday night when I’ll be in my pajamas by 5:30 and will be in bed shortly thereafter.

Getting old is super lame.

Reunited and it feels kinda good

21 Oct

At 38 I still feel like I’m in my 20’s. I have friends my same age who say they feel old. Some, like Foxy, are ready to throw money at the nearest plastic surgeon and have them fix imaginary wrinkles. Trust me, there are some who DEFINITELY look old, and act old, but there are very few days in life where I feel old. As far as I’m concerned I can party like the rest of them – just as long as I’m in bed by 11.

Facebook allows me to keep tabs and track of a bunch of my old college classmates. In the 15+ years since we’ve graduated there have been marriages, babies, divorces, scandals, new jobs, new houses, more babies, more marriages, and plenty of weight gain all around (mostly around my hips and thighs). While I keep in touch with many of them, like most Facebook relationships, they’re pretty superficial. Wouldn’t reach out to them if there was something stressful going on in my life, but will “like” a picture of a new puppy when I see one.

Tomorrow night something different happens – am meeting up with a friend I haven’t seen in 10 years. In college I counted him as one of my very best friends. He knew everything about young Catherinette. My parents and friends joked we would get married one day. I fought that tooth and nail! We were like “When Harry Met Sally” if they never got together, that was my explanation. And yet we did find ourselves together – for exactly one week. The week started with a black out drunk make-out session leaning up against a refrigerator at someone’s party, and ended in tears in the hallway outside a friend’s room when I told him I couldn’t date him. We remained friends – even after I started dating someone new the following week.

We stuck together through all of my stupid college relationships and when he started hooking up with my skanky ass roommate. He was always someone I could turn to and bitch about my love life. He was a good guy. Except for the one time he walked in on me and my boyfriend and refused to leave the room until we admitted we had been doing it. Of course neither one of us would cop to it so then he sat there talking about basketball and asking us why we were under a blanket when it was 90+ outside. That was the only time I wanted to hit him.

Fast forward almost 17 years and he’s now married with two little girls and I’m still a hot mess when it comes to dating. Awesome to see how some things change, and some seem to always stay the same.

So tomorrow we’ll be reunited and we’ll spend the evening doing catch up. Am looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. It’s times like this, when I see my friends from back in the day with an awesome life and I’m still single, that I question myself. It’s having to deal with the “why are you still single” question that makes me anxious. Oh, and the fact that I’m part pig now.

Hmm…wonder if this whole “I’m part pig” thing is actually related to the “why are you still single” thing…?

I Have to Lay Off the Crack Pipe

19 Oct

Apparently that’s what I was smoking before bed the other night because I had some jacked up dreams.  Jacked. Up.

There’s this client at work who I love.  LOVE.  I would like to climb up on his lap and make him mine.  Unfortunately, he’s married with children. On the bright side this is wife number 4, and he has the reputation of a dog – right up my alley.  Still, I’ve been very good – it’s only when I swoon in front of my boss and tell all my coworkers he’s my secret boyfriend (so secret he doesn’t know about it) that anyone would know.  The man’s voice is like velvet.  The first time we interacted was over the phone and I think I creamed myself in the 30 second it took him to tell me he hadn’t received the files that had been sent out.

I promptly announced to my boss that I was in love and she said, “I knew you’d like him”.  She said it’s his boyish charm that makes him so popular.  Being the awesome boss she is, she immediately assigned me to work on a project with him.  Cloud 9.  By the time I met him we’d already had several conversations, all that left me trembling.  Dreamy, I tell you.  It’s just as well because being the shallow bitch that I am I’d never gave gotten past his lazy eye if we hadn’t spoken on the phone 1,000 times before the meeting.  Yup, lazy eye.  You read that right.

Anyway, he had a starring role in my dream the other night.  The dream had much promise – there could have been sweet, sexy whispers of that velvety smooth voice.  After enjoying a lovely meeting at the house I grew up in (while my mom and sister were in the kitchen), we started pouring through my photo albums.  You know, because that’s what one usually does after a business meeting and leading up to sexy times.  Clearly this would end up with us sneaking up to my bedroom on the third floor while my mom made tacos in the kitchen. But, no.  Of course I ended up having a nightmare where he ended up snarling at me like a dog and attempting to devour me (and not in a good way).  He was more like a hair-free werewolf than someone I’d want to get on.  He then proceeded to chase me through China Town (??), and then he kidnapped me because he was part of a cult.  And this cult was totally into brainwashing people.

You see, the point of the brainwashing the people is so they could fall in love.  If a brainwashed person fell in love with a non brainwashed person, it wouldn’t work out.  BUT if two brainwashed people fell in love with each other then it would last forever.  So he ends up moving on to someone else because I haven’t been brainwashed yet.  And then my son gets kidnapped by the cult so he can be brainwashed and I don’t even care.  And at the very end I bump into this dude and it’s like POW! we’re in love.

And that, my friends, is why one shouldn’t eat a bag of chips and a chocolate bar before bed.

An important question for all humanity

8 Oct

Why? Why would anyone drink this?


Catherinette’s Terrorist Plot Thwarted!

6 Oct

There is nothing worse than getting stuck behind an amateur in the security line at an airport. You know the type: struggling to remove all their layers, bitching about having to remove their lace up boots, and pissed about having to empty their pockets. Fuck you, dude! You’re holding up the line!

Didn’t you read the 50+ signs on the way up that tell you what to do? You, sir, are a bastard. I hope they pull you out of line and give you the cavity search you deserve.

I’m a seasoned traveler. I wear shoes that can easily be removed during a security screening. I remove all jewelry and belts. I even make sure all my liquids, creams, and gels are stowed away in a clear 1 quart bag.

Today, however, my bag was searched. Why? Because you’re not allowed to bring a giant ass jar of Nutella on the flight. Seriously? Is this where we are as a society? Peanut butter and Nutella are now the vessels if terrorists?