Funk this!

Thanks to everyone for their kind words yesterday during one of my infrequent but potent bad moods. I appreciate you waiting me out and trying to cheer me up! Every time I have one of those days and I make a bitchy post like that one, I spend the next couple of days regretting both the mood and the post. I am typically an upbeat kind of gal, but every so often... well, you know.

So, thanks for bearing with me. I will now resume my regularly scheduled goofiness.

Obviously, I'm feeling a little more "bevtastic" today. Yesterday I went home and sat on my deck and listened to the birds chirping and the wind in the trees. My back yard is a very pleasant place to sit in the summertime, and I've been thoroughly enjoying it this summer. Then I talked to my sister for a good hour, and that definitely cheered me up. Sometimes nobody gets you like a sibling does; in fact, Debbie told me that she saw this bad mood risin' on my blog for the past couple of posts. Whaaaa? Yeah, she's THAT good at interpreting my tone, apparently. Wow!

We had a great dinner on our deck: steak tips, corn on the cob, green beans, and a honkin' glass of wine for Mama. My mood rose considerably as I watched my boys run around in the backyard, and then it rose even more when we put the little buggers to bed (heh). Jim was watching a TV show that I don't care for, so I plugged into my laptop and downloaded some new tunes.

I've been loving MGMT's songs "Kids," and "Time to Pretend," so I went ahead and downloaded the rest of their album, Oracular Spectacular. I love it! iTunes describes it as "at times, unapologetically psychadelic," and they earn David Bowie, Talking Heads, and Flaming Lips comparisons, so you know I'm hooked. I found a clip of one of my favorite songs on YouTube; most of their clips cannot be embedded, but this one can. Sorry it's not better quality.



I also found some tunes from a band I'd never heard of before called Vampire Weekend. I recognized one song, "A-Punk," from the radio, so I picked up a few of their tunes too. They have a kind of fun, easy-going indie meets reggae thing going on. I digs it. Plus, there's a song called "Oxford Comma" that makes the English geek in me happy:

Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma?
I've seen those English dramas too, they're cruel
So if there's any other way to spell the word
It's fine with me, with me

Heeeeeee!

So, I was all geeked-out last night, downloading like a fiend (it's just way too easy when iTunes has your credit card info, am I right?), when I get some texts from Mala. You'll never believe this one. I'm not sure if I mentioned it here, but next Wednesday I'm going with Mala and her husband to see Paul McCartney in concert... for free. WOOT! Yeah, ya' heard me! Basically, Joe works in my office and gets some pretty sweet kick-backs from mutual fund salespeople, just like my boss does. Last summer, for instance, Joe scored us 4 tickets to see Neil Diamond at Fenway, and we had a double date of epic proportions. Sure, we missed the first two songs because we stayed at the restaurant drinking vino and laughing for too long, but it was all good... because it was FREE!

This time Joe could only get 3 tickets, so I have to be the sales rep's "date" for the night, but whatev. We're still hoping he bails at the last minute like he did last year so Jim can come instead. Anywho, Mala texts me last night to tell me that MGMT is opening for Sir Paul!!!

"You've got to be fucking with me!" I responded.
"Not fucking with you!" She said.

"FUCK YEAH!" I said. So I burned Joe and Mala a cd so they know what MGMT sounds like, and this time I am not going to dawdle at the restaurant because I want to see the opening act.

Clearly, I need to STFU, because my life rocks sometimes. Feel free to remind me of this fact next time I get my panties in a bunch, k?

I'm in a baaad, bad mood.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.


Yeah. I'm fucking grumpy today. If I haven't stopped by your blog in a day or two and left my usual pithy and loving comments, please don't be offended. I'm just pissy as hell for no good reason. Hormones, maybe, or the phase of the moon again, or maybe I'm just overdue for a case of the grumps. IDK, but whatever it is is PISSING ME OFF.

See? Told ya. Bad mood.

Anywho, here's some stuff that is contributing to my shitty attitude. Let's do a little listy-poo, shall we?

1. My crap job is boring; I don't have enough to do, and the work I do have sucks. My boss is on vacay this week, which I usually love because I can slack off with reckless abandon and take long lunches, etc., but this week I'm just irked every time one of our asshole clients calls with one of their asshole problems. Don't even get me started on my asshole coworkers, because we'd be here all day. Why don't I go get a new job? Because I fear change, and I'm lazy and unmotivated and have no career ambition anymore, that's why. I honestly think I am meant to be an heiress or socialite or something, because all I want to do is have a good time. Stupid life.

2. We have two car payments at the same bank. I sent one check in with two payment coupons, one for each loan. I wrote in the exact amount on each slip, AND I wrote the account numbers in the memo of the check. I got a note the other day saying we were late on one of the loans, so clearly the idiots applied it all to just one loan and nothing to the other. Stupid jerks.

3. My husband is going to his college buddy's (2nd) wedding on Labor Day weekend. It's in Oregon. Has he booked a flight or done anything other than commit to going? Nope. I just checked for him and the flights are all over $500 and don't work for his schedule. When I told him, he got all annoyed and tried looking himself, then said, "Ugh. I'll just do this later when you're home to help me." Goddamn it! I just helped you! I just looked, just now, and told you what I saw! Which was nothing! So now I get to look forward to figuring this out for him when I get home later, and to paying out the ass for him to go across the country to get drunk with his old friends while I do something super fun and glamorous that weekend.

What will I be doing, you may wonder? Well, I will be driving myself, my two children, and my mother to New York for my grandmother's funeral, that's what. WOOT! Party in the minivan! Jealous? Yeah, I thought so.

4. Everyone keeps dying. I've been coping with the loss of my father two months ago; most days I am able to think good thoughts about him, and I find myself bringing him up in conversation a lot. "Dad always loved 'such-and-such'," or "Dad used to say, 'blah blah blah'." But the other day I found a server full of photos that I had completely forgotten about, and I found a picture of my dad laughing at a birthday party 5 years ago. My sister is at his feet, gazing up at him adoringly, and it's just such a good example of why we loved him that I lost it. I cried and cried and cried, just because I miss him. I know he's okay, I know that it was his life's plan and all that good stuff; I have peace about his passing. But I miss him and will always miss him, and that pisses me off.

5. I'm a slacker daughter who dreads calling her depressed mother because is makes me sad. I'm selfish. I do it because I must, but I drink a glass of wine to steel myself beforehand. All she talks about is cleaning out my dad's belongings, and who said what in their sympathy cards, and the business of death. I offer to drive the 2 hours up north to take her out to dinner to cheer her up, but instead I get roped into spending my Sunday cleaning out her garage. FUCK. MY. LIFE.

6. It's humid. So humid that you can't see the horizon. So humid that I can't get my rings off of my sausage fingers. So humid my straight hair is frizzing.

7. Pictures from yesterday's beach trip reveal troubling truths about the state of my upper thighs. Skirted bathing suits, here I come. What's next? MuuMuus?

8. I snapped at my husband the other night and hurt his feelings. I apologized, and he is fine, but I still feel like shit. I just haven't been appreciating him as much as I should be. He's a great father, and I should be more grateful.

9. Nobody around me ever shuts the fuck up. Well, almost nobody. Last night we were out to dinner with Mala & her family, and it suddenly dawned on me why she and I get along so well. We were in the middle of the table, across from each other. On one side, our children were yammering away and blowing bubbles with their milk and generally being obnoxious, on the other side, our husbands were blabbing away about some boring shit, and she and I were just sitting there eating our salads. I looked across the table at her and grinned, and she grinned back.

Sometimes, you don't have to talk. Sometimes, you can just sit there and fucking eat and not fucking TALK. She gets it.

10. I am an idiot who didn't put on enough sunblock yesterday, so now I'm Lobster Girl. WTF is wrong with me? I managed to keep my children from burning, but I am now sporting a ridiculous halter-shaped sunburn which hurts like holy hell. I've been rubbing the lotion on its skin, but it's not helping so far. Goddamn me.

I could keep going, I'm that grumpy, but I'll stop now. Ten reasons to be peeved are more than enough. This too will pass; my bad moods don't typically last more than a day or two, but right now I'm going to keep wallowing.

Wordless Wednesday

Truthful Tuesday

Confession: I've been toying with the idea of participating in that 365 photo challenge over at Envisage 365. I like the premise, and you all know I'm a big fan of taking pictures, even though I am by no means a photographer. I have no aspirations or drive to do anything more than futz around and take pics of whatever happens to catch my fancy.

I figure, I can definitely commit to taking a picture every day, and I love looking at the images captured by the other 30-some women on that blog. With one rather notable exception. Last night I was curled up on the couch, idly glancing through the new blog posts on my Blogger dashboard, when one image from the Envisage website caught my attention. I'm not going to go into details about what it was, because frankly, I might need therapy to acquire some new coping mechanisms after viewing it. When I saw it, I made such a loud sound of protest that my husband poked his head in from the kitchen to see what the problem was. I let him read the description of the photo, but didn't want to traumatize him with the image without his consent. Of course he wanted to see it, and he was probably even more grossed out than I was.

Seriously, go to the site and see if you can tell which photo made me want to gauge out my own eyeballs. If you dare.

Confession: I like the Britney Spears song "Circus." A LOT.

Confession: I've got some wanderlust going on. I have always been a planner; I like having things on my calendar to look forward to, so I tend to set dates for fun events way in advance. I just went to NYC, and now I'm already eyeing the calendar to see when we can sneak away again. I've got some fun things on the agenda so far, but nothing carved in stone just yet.

Confession: Speaking of wanderlust, I have been thinking of planning a big family vacation for this winter. My husband is an avid skier, but I am not a huge winter fan. Yes, I live in New England, where winter lasts from December till April; the irony is not lost on me. This year I've made him promise that we can escape somewhere warm for February vacation. The only problem is that when I start to envision us schlepping our whole family onto an airplane and into hotel rooms, etc, I break out in a cold sweat. It's hard to travel with kids! My youngest will be two when we go, and two-year-olds are kind of tough when you're outside of your comfort zone.


When Danny was the same age, we took him to the Florida Keys and it nearly killed us. It's just not relaxing when you have to chase a kid from Miami to Key West, ya know? In fact, the most peaceful afternoon we had was when we had to give him a minuscule dose of Dramamine because he got seasick on the glass bottom boat. He passed out and Jim and I had a great day. Since drugging your children is frowned-upon, I don't think that's necessarily the answer.

So, the thought of doing a big trip with a tyrannical spirited 6-year-old and a very busy 2-year-old is daunting... but I really want a break from winter. It's a tough call.

Confession: I'm thinking of printing up a t-shirt that says, "This is going on the blog!" Lately I find myself saying that a lot, and a t-shirt would be such a time-saver! I could just smile knowingly and point at my chest, then nod. You know what time it is.

That's all I got. Well, that's all I'm spilling today, anyway. I know, it was nothing juicy, but whatev.

What the DAMN?

What in the name of Skeletor has happened to Madonna?



I know, I know, this isn't news. But jeepers, it's gotten worse, am I right? I think Madge has finally done it; she is now freakier looking and more buff than Iggy Pop. And that's sayin' something.

As a largely inactive sloth-type human, I used to admire Madonna for her athleticism and drive. However, as she ages and becomes more and more comprised of straining tendons & bulging muscles, I am starting to think that there is an argument to be made for softness.



I am 100% sure that when (God willing!) I am 50 years old, I will look nothing like Madonna. For one thing, I don't plan on having Botox, face lifts, or chemical peels, so I'm pretty sure I'll have the standard lines and wrinkles going on. Also, I don't see myself becoming a triathlete or using steroids any time soon, so most likely I'll have some (more) junk in my trunk and arms that look like they belong to a woman and not a cartoon superhero. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

Ok, enough about Madge and her scrawny man-arms. I really do need to start working out again. It has now been a year since I went to the gym with any sort of regularity. That doesn't count the spurts I'll sometimes have when I'll go for a week or two and feel awesome about it and have visions of being super in-shape and toned.... Until I get bored or my mp3 player repeats the same songs too many times and I get pissed off so I stop going (true story). My weight is stable in a not-horrible but not-great gray area that matches my whole laissez-faire attitude pretty well, but I do have visions of finally shedding those 15 lbs I've had since... well, forever.

But anyway. I'll stop now, because I'm getting depressed. The good news is that I can still race my kid when we're running for a water slide, I can still climb the 4 flights of stairs to gain access to those slides, and the ol' bod still does alright under most circumstances, even if I do feel it more the next day.

So I'll STFU now and count my blessings. At least I don't have man arms.

A day at the "fay-ah" and a fiesta por tres

Yesterday we went to the Stratham Fair. It was a lovely day with some good friends, and I celebrated the nice weather by getting myself a sexy white-trash sunburn. Seriously, I look like I've been working construction all day; you can go ahead and picture me in an orange vest, holding a Yield sign. Go ahead, do it. I don't mind.

It was a typical New England fair, and the people-watching was excellent as always. I kept running into the same gigantic man in a Metallica tank top who reminded me of Ogre from Revenge of the Nerds, only way dirtier and uglier. Oh, and covered in tattoos, too. To be perfectly honest, the third time I saw him I tried to surreptitiously take his picture with my cell phone, but I couldn't get it without getting caught, and this was not a man by whom I wanted to get caught doing anything of which he did not approve. Skeery.

Anywho, we had a big lunch of lobster and steamers (which kind of gross me out, but I ate some anyway just to maintain my NH cred), toured the 4H barns, rode some rides, and Danny even took part in a traditional Pig Scramble even though we had to fudge his age a bit to enter him in the competition. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept of a Pig Scramble, it's basically a contest in which groups of 8 children aged 8-12 (ahem) run around in a big pen and try to catch one of the 5 pigs that are set loose. Pigs are kind of fast and hard to catch, and it's funny watching the kids dive into the grass in hot pursuit of the squeeling piggies. Now, once they catch a pig, they are required to take it HOME and raise it for a year, then the rules state that the pig must be *gulp* eaten.

Needless to say, we did not want Danny to actually catch a pig for a number of reasons, the largest reason being that we live in a suburban neighborhood and I do not want a pig sty in my back yard, thankyouverymuch. So, we were relieved when he didn't make much of an effort and simply ran around in the mass of children and laughed. PHEW!



The Silence of the Lambs? ----->





Mala couldn't join us, but her husband and kids came along for the ride. In keeping with our tradition, I have no pictures of her son. It seems that we only photograph 3 out of the 4 children at any given outing.







Jill and her youngest daughter were with us too, but you'll have to take my word for that since I have no pics of them either.


After we were all tired and stinky and high on lemonade and cotton candy, we parted ways with Mala's fam and went back to our house with Jill & her kiddo for a little Mexican feast. I made chicken fajitas, tacos, and quesadillas for the kids (which they didn't eat, because children kind of suck that way. What? It's true). Jill played bartender and made us Mango Margaritas. They were goooooooood.


I saved one for you:

You're welcome.

After the kids went to bed I got a hankering to play some Scrabble. I love Scrabble. Jim and I used to play all the time, and he's a good sport because I always win. But, in his defense, it's always a close game.

I'm happy to report that I've still got my Scrabble mojo. I'm not so happy to report that margaritas make me a little less than sportsman-like from time to time, so when I placed my winning 57-point word on the board, I may have actually gloated a little. *blush* I maaaaay have even said something along the lines of, "S-s-suuuuuck it!"

Not my finest moment, to be sure.

In a moment of instant karma, I told Jim to take a picture of me and Jill so I could document my awesomeness, and when we looked at the picture we all howled with laughter... because I looked a little bit... slow. As in, Corky from Life Goes On, slow. NTTAWWT! But still. That pic won't ever see the light of day.

But these will:



Heh heh. Sore winner? Moi? Naaaaah.

Anywho. It was a fun day and night! An added bonus? We put on The Big Lebowski because Jill had never seen it before. Any night with The Dude is a good night at Casa de Bev. Funny story, and then I'll shut up: last weekend when we were spending time with Maeghan in NYC, she reminded me that Jim and I had first showed her TBL many moons ago, and when she met her now-fiance, they bonded over their mutual love for the movie! Lebowski helped bring them together, so in a way, I'm responsible for their successful coupling. Hee - what? Ok, so I let my big Scrabble victory go to my head, clearly. I will look into getting my ego deflated ASAP.

Speaking of Maeghan, she just started her own blog. She rules! Check her out.

Ok, gotta run. It's 10 AM on a Sunday and I've done nothing but clean up the dishes from last night's fiesta. I have a full day of sitting on my butt and doing nothing ahead of me. Gotta get to it!

Have a nice Sunday, my friends!

Do your boobs hang low?

Do they wobble to and fro'?
Can you tie 'em in a knot?
Can you tie 'em in a bow?

Yesterday we went to a water park. Since my youngest son is too little to ride most of the good rides, I spent a lot of time floating with him in an inner tube in the "whirlpool." The whirlpool is a large round pool with currents that move you in a slow, lazy circle not unlike circling the drain in a giant toilet bowl. My kid sat stiffly in my lap wearing a huge orange life vest, and the inner tube was so big that basically my entire mid-section was in the water, leaving two legs, two arms (filled with said life-vested almost-two-year-old), and my little wet head sticking out of the top. Quite a sight, really. If only I'd had a camera... however I don't allow cameras in the vicinity when I plan to spend the day swathed in Lycra and dripping wet. That's just a no-no on many levels.

While drifting in the overly-chlorinated bacteria-trap, I had time to observe some of the other park-goers and reflect upon the cruelty of time and gravity on the human physique. People come in all shapes and sizes, which is the mantra I've drilled into my 6-year-old's head whenever he asks me why someone is fat or old or just plain ugly.


I saw all kinds of people in the Fug Parade: pre-adolescent girls in bikinis with remarkably smooth, un-stretch-marked stomachs, teenage girls who had eaten one too many Big Macs but who were also shamelessly sporting bikinis and belly rings, moms in tankinis who needed a little more support to keep the spare tire under control, old men with moobs, guys with hairy backs, lots of regrettable tattoos, and cellulite and thigh dimples galore.

What struck me most was the ta-tas. I've never seen so many saggy funbags in my life! Why aren't these people buying better bathing suits? Underwire is your friend, girls! Here's a tip for you: if you look down and can't see the shape of your nips through the fabric, you need a more supportive bathing suit top! Just sayin'.

Looky here: If a beautiful woman like Uma freakin' Thurman can be caught in a bad suit, it can happen to anybody. Get thee to the bathing suit store and lift those thangs up! I'm personally not happy until mine are cranked up to 11, which puts them up somewhere just under my chin. Sure, it hurts like hell, but come on! Being fabulous hurts sometimes, and if you don't believe me, just check out most womens' footwear.

Frankly, though, I really long for the days when bathing suits looked like this:

*sigh* Times were so much simpler then. A swim dress sounds awesome. I could totally get on board with that.

Anywho, while I was hunting down pictures for this post (would you believe that it was surprisingly difficult to find pics of saggy boobs? I was shocked, shocked, I tell you!), I found a delightful little product that looks like a good stocking-stuffer for all of the women in your life. Check it out:




GENIUS! Sure, it looks like you're sleeping with a dildo between your boobs, but whatev! Mrs. Cunningham, er, Grandma sure looks happy about it.

So, there's that.

Oh, and after going down a couple of those waterslides, I am in the market for some sort of painful-wedgie-remover product AND a new bathing suit. Some of those things hurt like a mutha and wear out the seat of your suit! There was one slide that actually slammed you in the face with a wall of water at the very last second. Thanks a-fucking-lot! Ouch! Along the same lines, I think it's a good thing my husband and I are done having kids, because the Geronimo (straight down) slide did something quite wrong to his twig and berries and he's still walking funny today. Poor guy. They really ought to put a warning on those things.

Wordless Wednesday

It's a major award!

The lovely and talented Stacie was kind enough to give me a shout-out the other day!


I admit, I'm not sure which image I was supposed to use, so I used both, because I'm cool like 'dat.

Now, I'm supposed to tag 15 (!) bloggers to share the LURVE. Of course, Stacie herself used 15 of my main homies already, but lucky for me I happen to know some other cool peeps who write like Hemingway on acid and make me giggle on a pretty consistent basis.

Please keep in mind that I couldn't choose some of my other devoted and brilliant friends/readers because they had already been chosen by Stacie. Don't fret! The Bev still loves ya like a rock!!!

I hereby announce my stalkees thusly:

Mala: Duh. She's my main homegirl, my partner in crime, and one funny beyotch. Also, her name means "Crazy Lady" in Spanish, which is appropriate.

Cary at LOTD: Who's our Daddy? It's Cary. He makes us laugh every day by scouring the interwebz for the most inane and oftentimes perverted stuff available, then puts it all in one place for his lazy-ass readers. Now that's love.

Kari: A new find of mine, and a Southern Belle with a great rack and an even greater sense of humor! Read her - she will maketh the tears stream forth from thine eyes.

The iNDefatigable mjenks: A wicked smaht scientist dude who enjoys blowing shit up, watching SpongeBob, using big words, and boobies. He is a riot!

The Peach Tart: I just found her, and it was love at first read; especially when she described, in detail, the act of getting a Brazilian wax because she couldn't deal with gray hairs down there. Srsly, I'm hooked.

Elliott: He cooks, he gets pop culture references, and he recognizes "good bones" in furniture. He may very well be the perfect man.

Kate: You've all seen her hysterical comments here. Go check out her equally hysterical take on parenthood and MILF-dom on her blog, but keep it clean, my delightful pervs. It's a family place!

MtnMama: She's sweet, smart, and funny. I dig her. You will, too.

Harmony: Our girl Harmony is a quirky, funny, kind, pseudo-hippy-CA girl who must buy things in pairs. Especially cucumbers.

CalicoBebop: She's a sassy single mom who appreciates a good bawdy joke. What's not to like?

Frank: We love our Franky-poo. Always quick with a witty come-back or a funked-up video clip, he knows from funny. Oh, and ladies... he's also single. Just sayin'.

Steph: Of course I have to tag her! She's a blog superhero who rocks some mad vernacular. She brings the cool.

Lindsey: She's not blogging much these days because she has one of those things... what are they called? Oh yeah, a life. But, when she does write, she makes my Happy happy.

Cheasty: She's adorable, can hang with cool folks like MOFM & Frank, and is devoted to the world's ugliest doggy.

Tonya: I don't know her very well, but I like what I've seen. The title of her blog makes the English major in me twitch a little bit, but it's all good. ;-)

The fine print, for those tagged:

1) Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award and his or her blog link.

2) Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you’ve discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

PHEW! That was exhausting! I hope you're all happy. I now have carpal tunnel and gas. Ok, so the gas is because of that burrito I ate, but whatever. Don't get all hung up on details, mmkay?

MILFs take Manhattan

AKA: The only celebs we saw were made of wax, we can put away a ridiculous quantity of wine, and Bev gives good Crazy Eyes.



What a weekend! Yes, we had fun. Yes, I am exhausted. Yes, I am back at work today. Ugh.

I won't bore you with every nitty-gritty detail, and since we took our usual ass-load of pictures, I'll let them tell the tale, mmkay?

Here we are, fresh-faced but poorly-rested, in my driveway before embarking on our journey. We made excellent time, btw, and hit NO traffic thanks to my mad navigating skillz. We made one 30 minute pit-stop to pick up some (ok, six) bottles of wine, but the driving time was 4.5 short hours door-door. Yay!



We arrived at our hotel and inexplicably got upgraded to a room with a better view. Our room rocked! We could see Times Square, the New Year's Eve ball, and the Chrysler Building (of course, I had to argue with Mala for a good 10 minutes over whether it was the Chrysler Bldg or the Empire State, and she STILL didn't believe me until my friend from NYC verified it later. Sheesh!)

We kicked off our weekend by opening some wine! We had ourselves a lovely time, and time flew by because before we realized it, we'd been sitting around in the hotel room for over two hours and we were late for our first celebrity meet & greet. Guess who we met for drinks?

Infamous blogger extraordinaire, PorkStar, AKA: Ball Sweat:


Jealous?

Yes, he's a very nice man and we had a very giggly and blurry conversation with him in the hotel bar. Wine was spilled, and for a change it wasn't ME who did the spilling. WOOT! About 30 minutes later, we remembered that we hadn't eaten since breakfast and Mala knows that you need to feed The Bev regularly or risk getting your head bitten off, so she unceremoniously stood up and blurted out, "We need to go get Bev some dinner. It was great meeting you!" And off we went into the night.



HEE! Now, let it be known... this was MY time to shine. I am not sure if I've ever seen Mala so partied out (ok, yes I have, but work with me here, people). In keeping with the theme of the weekend, I got to be the dude in our relationship again; she took my arm and I guided her through the crowded streets and found us a very nice restaurant (the name of which will become known to us when we see it on our credit card statement), AND I ROCKED IT. She doesn't remember much of the stroll, but it ended with us drinking water and eating a big plate of starch. Mmm, that's good starch. Mala made sure to document the fact that we were drinking water.

After dinner, Mala was still a little spinny, so we went back to the hotel. And stayed there. (SMACKING FOREHEAD) Yes, we were partied out and tucked into our beddy-bies by 8:30 PM. Do we know how to party or WHAT?!

We started fresh the next day and went out and had bagels in Times Square, went to the cheap ticket stand and got tickets to see a play, and then hit one of our favorite places, Madame Toussard's Wax Museum. We almost got kicked out of the one in L.A., so as soon as we saw that there was one here we were on it like white on rice! I'm not sure if you know this about us, but we are kind of silly girls. Heee.... News Flash!

WE HAD A BLAST. The pics speak for themselves, but there are so many I'll just share the truly special ones.











You get the idea. :)

We went and saw Mama Mia that afternoon. It was... okay. I like theatre, so I like watching a live production no matter what, but this one was kind of dumb. The actors were talented (aside from the lead, whom we both thought was a bit over the top) and it was a slick production, so we enjoyed it. The story was la-haaaaaame, though. After the show, we booked it back to the hotel to meet up with my old college buddy, the lovely and talented Maeghan!

This pic would rock if it weren't for that ONE STRAY HAIR on my forehead.


We had a ball! Before we knew it, we'd managed to spend another couple of hours in our hotel room laughing with Maeghan and drinking champagne and more vino. We got pretty silly. And of course, we took pictures.

I told you it was the Chrysler Building!



Show me: Sexy Face!

Show me: "I'm thinking about dinner" face (we were really hungry!):

Show me: Angry! Grrrrr!

Show me: SMILE!


Eventually Mala's old college buddy Jason showed up with his brand new girlfriend, Bhani. We drank more wine. (SMACKING FOREHEAD) Then we took to the streets and went to a nice little Italian restuarant, where the waiter kept giving us free shit. First it was "While-you-wait-wine" on the street while they readied our table.

Then he brought us free dessert and cognac after the meal. Go figure!

After dinner Maeghan took her leave (speaking of partied OUT...ahem) and the rest of us went back to Jay's apartment and hung out for a bit on their rooftop.


Then they stuffed us into a cab and sent us back to the hotel, and we stood in Times Square at 2 AM for a bit:


Sunday was quite relaxed. We took a little tour but got bored and bailed somewhere in SoHo. They let us off to go get a greasy slice of pizza and we ditched 'em and had a lovely lunch at an outdoor French bistro instead. Ha. See ya, suckas!



The weather was gorgeous, and as usual, I couldn't ask for better company than Malomatic. It was great catching up with some old friends and making new memories. We will be back. ;-)