Cuddle up — it’s cold out there.
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30Sep
Categories: Blonde Things, Giggles for the day Comments: 0
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24Sep
Categories: Blonde Things Comments: 0
Go to Victoria Secret and buy yourself more panties because clearly there are not enough hours in the day to wash the mountain of laundry in the bottom of your closet.
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23Sep
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Monday I start a new job. Technically, the only the job will be new because my place of employment is actually the establishment that laid me off in January – ya know the day after I got back from a fabulous three week vacation in the Caribbean?
They
came crawling backapproached me with a job offer, and I accepted. Thursday is my last day working for the NYS Department of Health — Friday I had taken off to travel to Rhode Island to visit some fabulous people and attend a wedding [stay tuned for that post].Last week I had a serious anxiety attack because I was told in order to properly resign from a position you have to walk into your current boss’s office and tell him face-to-face, “I quit — mainly because you don’t pay me enough and my birth control costs a fortunate without health insurance.” I had knots in my stomach all day because, honestly, I don’t want to leave this job. I like this job, and I like my boss. Nonetheless, I can’t work as a temp without any benefits for the rest of my life. In the end, my very, cool boss completely understood. So, I handed over my fancy resignation letter, and said I was leaving in two weeks.
Did I mention that I could have been collecting unemployment insurance this entire time, and I could have spent the whole summer in permanent vacation mode? Doing activities like pretending everyday is Friday, staying up late and watching Late Night with Jimmy Fallon until 2 am. Except, I did all those things from February to July, so I guess that should be enough vacation.
Anyway, my new job is in the same building I was previously working in – although this time I’m on the other side (retail) also known as the “dark side” by commercial bankers, mainly because the other side doesn’t really know what a “happy hour” is and those commercial bankers are all about happy hour.
Basically, it’s like when you were in middle school and sometimes you would get lucky enough to be picked to play on the “cool team” for dodge ball in gym class. Only this time I wasn’t lucky enough to be picked by the cool team. That doesn’t mean they aren’t the winning team – just not the cool team. Luckily, I have spent the last nine months drinking with some commercial bankers, so hopefully I can still have some fun — and I will be cool.
More to come on the new job after Monday…
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22Sep
Categories: Blonde Things Comments: 1
Gravy. Cheese. French Fries.
We need to talk about this — at first glance the smothered fries are not appealing, maybe because they look like a mountain of unidentifiable yellowish-brown food. When I was first introduced to disco fries my immediate reaction was, “Wow, that’s a heart attack waiting to happen,” but after some deliberation and a couple of healthy margaritas, I thought I would try one.
A fry is after all a potato in another form anyway, and on Thanksgiving you put gravy on your mashed potatoes, right? Plus, my dad is a huge fan of cheese and bacon on a baked potato. So, technically, gravy cheese fries are the greatest discovery ever.
They are, in fact, so yummy, and although you may think you need a fork – disco fries are a finger food. Pick one up with your fingers, dangle the dripping cheese and gravy in the air, and pop one into your mouth.
Don’t worry. If you are going to overindulge and eat a gigantic pile of loaded nachos and drink countless margaritas at Bombers, then a few disco fries won’t hurt you. Your liver and arteries are already in trouble. I think everyone should try them just once – especially, the next time you go here. They are so delicious. C’mon, you know you want to.
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21Sep
Categories: Blonde Things Comments: 0
As summer comes to a close, I have been skipping the gym to hang out with friends at all of Albany’s infamous bars and restaurants, preferably ones with out door patios. Let me say, a few hours at the Wolff’s Biergarten can get a girl in trouble, i.e. the past few Saturday mornings I woke up with a pounding in my head – otherwise known as a hang over.
Somewhat concerned that I’m on the verge of becoming an alcoholic, I decided to take the test on AA- Are you an Alcoholic? The results:
1. Is drinking making your home life unhappy? Friday night is restricted to girls only. It’s a rule. I think this offends Sam.
2. Does your drinking make you careless of your family’s welfare? No.
3. Do you drink because you are shy with other people? I talk more – does that count?
4. Is drinking affecting your reputation? I don’t remember falling down and making an ass of myself recently – but I do that without booze.
5. Do you drink to escape from worries or trouble? I don’t think so.
6. Do you drink alone? Ha. Sometimes.
7. Have you lost time from work due to drinking? Never.
8. Has your ambition decreased since drinking? I wouldn’t consider myself very ambitious to begin with – so no.
9. Has your efficiency decreased since drinking? Only while drinking.
10. Is drinking jeopardizing your job or business? I wish was still unemployed because then I could say – Not applicable.
11. Have you ever felt remorse after drinking? Not unless there is inappropriate hugging and a toilet involved.
12. Are you in financial difficulties as a result of drinking? When you go to teh same bar every week you tend to receive some free drinks – although my wallet is inevitably lighter after I’ve left a bar. However, I’m working on this.
13. Do you turn to or seek an inferior environment when drinking? No — I’m classy all the way.
14. Do you crave a drink at a definite time daily? Friday at 5 pm is definitely a problem.
15. Does drinking cause you to have difficulty in sleeping? Only when I wake up at 6 am with a migraine from the previous night. I think that counts, right?
16. Do you want a drink the next morning? Good grief – No. I want a pile of pancakes to soak up all that vodka I drank the night before.
17. Do you drink to build up your self-confidence? No.
18. Have you ever had a complete loss of memory as a result of drinking? Of course. Not.
19. Has your doctor ever treated you for drinking? No.
20. Have you ever been in hospital or prison because of drinking? Ha. Not yet, but I try not to wear heals while drinking.I’m not sure I agree with their scoring method:
If you have answered YES to any one of the questions, there is a definite warning that you may be alcoholic.
If you have answered YES to any two, the chances are that you are an alcoholic.
If you have answered YES to three or more, you are definitely an alcoholic.The words “warning,” “chances are,” and “definitely” seem a bit harsh. I think it’s all about how much fun you have.
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21Sep
Categories: Blonde Things Comments: 0
Movie: The Hurt Locker
Where: Spectrumn on Delware Ave.
When: Sunday at 3:50 pm
Who: Liz and Vicki
What: Definitely not a chick flick – but a great flick, nonethelessSynopsis: As an elite Army Explosive Ordnance Disposal team tactfully navigates the streets of present-day Iraq, they face the constant threat of death from incoming bombs and sharp-shooting snipers. In Baghdad, roadside bombs are a common danger. The Army is working to make the city a safer place for Americans and Iraqis, so when it comes to dismantling IEDs (improvised explosive devices) the Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) crew is always on their game. But protecting the public isn’t easy when there’s no room for error, and every second spent dismantling a bomb is another second spent flirting with death.
Of course, after a gloomy movie one needs to cheer up.
Where: New World Bar and Bistro on Delaware Ave.
Drinks: two Tanqueray & tonics for me
Drinks: two glasses of pinto grigio for Vicki
Drinks: two glasses of unsweetened ice tea for Liz
What: Lots of giggles and gossip -
18Sep
Categories: Blonde Things, Giggles for the day Comments: 1
I love waking up to the sound of my cat, Jasper, puking at 6 am. I love when he is too lazy to get off the bed, and he upchucks his breakfast onto my cozy, blue velvet duvet from Pottery Barn. I love when sometimes he is standing on the two inch head board of my bed and vomit cascades like a waterfall down onto my nice clean pillow.
But most of all I love when I finally drag myself out of bed to look for his half digested breakfast, and I cannot find the vomit. Why you ask? Because my dog, Molly, is happily licking her paws as though she just consumed the most delectable meal of her life. This brings a whole new meaning to “wet food.”
Gross. Does anyone want to adopt a cat or dog?
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17Sep
Categories: Blonde Things Comments: 2
Can someone remind me next time I drive five hours and spend four days with my mother and 80-year-old grandmother that I need to fill my water bottle with vodka instead of H20?
Shh. Don’t tell them I said that.
My grandma is Swedish, so we’ll call her Mor-mor [meaning mother’s mother] because that’s her name. She is quite a character, my Mor-mor, telling you exactly what’s on her mind and sparing no details [of her bowel movements or what she thinks of you]. She has a comment for everything and anything and this is why I love her.
I love her because during the four days that we were in Cape May, NJ she wasn’t planning on showering — she said she “doesn’t perspire.” [Don't worry I convinced her to shower - the last day.] In her defense, she didn’t smell.
I love her because she is probably fifty pounds over weight – yet she told me this weekend that I could spare to lose a few pounds of my size 6/8 waist.
I love her because while complaining that she has one prosthetic hip and two fake knees, no ovaries, no appendix, and only one kidney, I jokingly asked her what organs she had left, and she placed her hand on her chest and stated, “I have a heart” with a big
grannybeautiful grin.I love her because sometimes she tries to teach me Swedish, and she doesn’t mind repeating herself five minutes later because I forgot what she said.
I love her because she said my hair is too blonde, but I simply tell her, “Mor-mor, I want to be Swedish and look like you.”
I love her because I’m 24-years-old, and she still tells me that I need a “pisk a rumpa” [or a spanking, at least that’s what it sounds like she is saying].
I love her because while she was paying for her Swedish book on her favorite Swedish artist, Carl Larson, at a boutique called “All Things Swede” she started talking in Swedish to the obvious American sales clerk.
And while I had to run to the apartment countless times to retrieve her sweater(s), sunglasses, water bottle, or Tylenol; walk at a snails pace to the beach that was less than a mile away; carry 3 suitcases, 1 air mattress, 2 coolers, 5 bags of groceries, and 2 garbage bags full of pillows and blankets up two flights of stairs all by myself — I deeply enjoyed my weekend with my Mor-mor and my mom.
Cape May, NJ 2009
Butteryfly Bush with my Mor-mor's favorite -- a Monarch Butterfly
