Friday, March 29, 2013

Friday Wrapup!

It's finally sunny, there's a third water main break in Hoboken this morning, and I'm considering just boiling my water from here on out. It must be Friday!

Let's get to it.


It's all fun and games until someone steals your unicorn.


This week's book review, Bring Up the Bodies, sounds like it could be vaguely Zombie-porn-ish, but I'm pretty sure that when my dad reads that stuff, he doesn't blog about it. However, he did blog about this one, and when I mentioned to him that I might feature it as the book of the week, he commented on how he wasn't sure if too many people who read a blog about my underpants would be totally into tales from the 16th century.

But I say we're an eclectic bunch, and perhaps checking out this book could offset the fact that you read this blog, making you whimsical AND able to drop knowledge about Henry VIII at your next cocktail party. BOOM. 

So, click here to check it out! 


And now, the Video of the Week. I basically chose this because I got introduced to the Lumineers the same way I'm sure many of you did, via this song. And it still makes me happy every time I listen to it.

So lately I've been listening to their album and have been digging this song, too. Enjoy!


Happy Easter, everyone!

In my defense, this bunny is f'ing
TERRIFYING. It has black, soul-less eyes! 

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

On how I became the newest member of the female Fight Club.

I didn’t grow up in the kitchen. And by that, I don’t mean that we didn’t, like, have a kitchen, just that I was never that kid who grew up wanting to learn all of the great recipes my mom and dad would make each day. Also, I’m pretty sure that this became apparent when my friend Andy had to teach me how to “make” boxed Kraft macaroni and cheese during my JUNIOR YEAR OF COLLEGE.

However, when I started dating CB, I quickly realized that it was sink or swim time. Because, for real, his whole family and extended group of friends are like professional Barefoot Contessa’s who wear shoes and aren’t all Italian.

Also, I didn’t know who the Barefoot Contessa was until I accidentally overheard a cooking-related conversation last year at work and, for at least an hour, thought maybe my co-workers had been talking about a porn star.

Anyway, as the months wore on, I started to get a little bit more comfortable in the kitchen, making various recipes from my mom and the Food Network, and only really having one incident where I may or may not have cried over a ruined pot of fried chicken. However,  while I was figuring out how to chop an onion without slicing my finger off and realizing that there was more to cooking than boiling water, my female contemporaries in CB’s group of friends and family were on their fifth year of Dinner Club.

And yes, before you even ask, the rules of Dinner Club are quite similar to those of Fight Club, except I can totally talk about Dinner Club AND I can leave my shirt and shoes on.


Anyway, I’d been hearing about Dinner Club for years now, and every once in a while I would overhear conversations by the girls who talked on and on about the delicious meals they had at dinner club, how they had the perfectly paired wine, and what fun it was. And then, inevitably, they’d talk about something all but I knew about and would be like “How did you not know that? We talked about it at dinner club!” and then I’d be all like “Um, I’m not allowed to come to dinner club because I sometimes put ketchup on my egg noodles.”

And then they remembered why they hadn’t yet invited me and we’d all enjoy a long, pregnant pause and move on to another less controversial topic.

So this little dance got quite familiar, and it even got to the point where these conversations would happen with CB.

Me: You know, it’s probably best that I’m not a part of Dinner Club anyway.
CB: Why is that?
Me: Because it sounds really stressful to have to cook for seven other people.
CB: Yeah, but it’s only your turn about once a year. You could totally do it.
Me: Nah, it’s cool, I don’t even really need to be part of it anyway……..

And then I’d wait for CB to contradict that last statement, but then I’d realize that he had moved on to playing Ruzzle on his phone and so I’d continue to tell myself that being part of a club where you eat delicious food and hang out with your friends didn’t sound like something I’d ever want to be a part of.

Until this week.

I mean,  I don’t know if it was the fact that they realized that I may actually be sticking around for the long haul, or whether I’ve cooked for enough of them individually by this point that they feel relatively certain that they probably won’t get some foodborne illness. Either way, the collective group of them decided that it was time to add their eighth member.

Kind of like a boy band, but with way less dancing and infinitely better snacks.

However, in true Becky fashion, I almost completely missed the invite altogether. You see, they invited me to come this month, and so I figured it was possible that they may be like “So you can go ahead and just come every month now, having an even number of people works better anyway.” But I wasn’t 100% sure.

The Glass Identification Ribbon was more
than a way for others to know to keep their
mits off my wine. 
So as we’re all sitting around eating, one of the girls takes my glass to re-fill it and when she brings it back to me, there’s a purple ribbon tied around the base. Obviously I just assumed that it was my glass identification ribbon so that nobody else would take my Pinot, and continued eating.

But as I glanced around at everyone else’s glasses, I realized that I was the only one with a GIB, and so maybe there was more too it?

So finally I picked it up, read the tag, and said “Eh, no thanks.”

And then immediately took it back so my invite wouldn’t be revoked because I definitely like talking, eating, and drinking wine, so this is for sure the club for me.

Needless to say, I have a feeling that Dinner Club will offer some pretty good blog fodder, and there’s not a small part of me that thinks that may be why at least some of the girls agreed to my presence. I mean, me + any club + having to cook + wine = you all feeling better about your lives.

You’re welcome. (and thank you, girls!)

Happy Wednesday!

Monday, March 25, 2013

"Hey, at least we didn't get shot!" and other things you hear kids say at bars these days.

Theoretically, I am a grown-up. Or at least I suppose I look like a grown up most of the time when I’m not wearing my glitter shoes. But I forget that other people can tell that I’m a grown up until I’m around “adults” who weren’t born when “Dirty Dancing” came out. Which makes me sad for them. And for me.

You see, a few friends and I decided to go out for some drinks and a good time at a bar downtown over the weekend. And for a few hours it was mainly us, our vodka, the friendly rapport with the bartender that rendered free shots, and a lot of laughs.

However, somewhere around 9pm, the place started to get young. And loud. And it’s possible that when the DJ started playing his club mixes, all five of us nearly hit the floor because we thought a gunshot had gone off and we were all going to die.

True story.

But as it turned out, it was just the beginning of a Justin Bieber song that he had turned up way too loud, and so then it was a toss-up between who would’ve preferred the gunshot.

Anyway, we soldiered on because that’s how we roll, until we realized that all of us had been having five separate conversations for the last 25 minutes because we couldn’t hear what anyone else was saying. And so we went downstairs to see if it was any quieter and less crowded downstairs.

You know, like kids these days do.

And wouldn’t you know it, there was a whole room off to the side with exactly five lounge chairs and a table that was just begging to be used! However, we seemed to be the only people in the bar excited about this discovery. Inexplicably.

Though it may have had something to do with the fact that the action was where everyone else was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with other people who thought it was totally cool when they played “retro” hits by Pearl Jam and U2.  Nevertheless, people would periodically stick their heads into the lounge to check out the “scene,” and would then quickly get ushered into the other room by a friend in the know so that they could hang out with the rest of humanity.
"Hey ladies, why don't you
come sit over here so you
can get away from all of the
shenanigans and tomfoolery."

But whatever, we were finally able to hear ourselves think and drink and laugh about when we were young and stupid and stayed out past midnight. So let’s consider that success.

Also, it’s possible that CB offered a group of cute girls our room as we were leaving, but they quickly looked in, looked at us, and kept walking. Which made me sad that CB’s “game” had been reduced to chatting up 23 year old girls simply to offer them some solace from the noise as he got up to leave and go eat leftover pizza with his Golden Girls Girlfriend on a Saturday night. 

But hey, if that's not love, I don't know what is!

Happy Monday, everyone! 

Friday, March 22, 2013

Friday Wrapup!

….and, it’s time for the Friday Wrapup! Let’s get to it.

Ok, so after many of you chimed in via posts and emails, all I have to say is: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

Per my post earlier this week, I will be meditating for the next 21 days, even though I found out yesterday that I’m about 18 days behind and the thing is almost over. But I will still have access to all of the meditations, and the last few days have really transformed me already.

No, just kidding, it’s done nothing of the sort.

For example, yesterday’s meditation was “Eating for Balance”, which came through just as I was coming back from a Thai lunch that probably equaled my calorie intake for the day. Though, to be fair, I balanced it out by saying no to a dessert named “Sweet World.” Which was basically a mish-mosh of every sweet thing that I love, and I was actually pretty annoyed that they hadn’t shared the dessert menu with me before I ate my beef and curry lunch. I totally would’ve skipped that and gone for the chocolate volcano!


But that’s balance, right? So, let’s call it a win.

Also, I totally got a personalized note from Oprah and Deepak, and so I’m totally in, guys!

Dear Becky,

Today we celebrate the synchronicity that lives between our
 Perfect Health journey and the beginning of Spring—the season associated with new beginnings, growth, and rejuvenation. What a perfect time to reflect and witness the sprouts that may be emerging from the seeds you have planted during the last two weeks!
You are stepping into a new season in your life, one that you are choosing and creating. It is a powerful moment where conscious choices ignite transformational change. What nourishing choices are you making today?
·  Taking a break to enjoy a walk outdoors?
·  Choosing a healthy meal with foods that include all colors of the rainbow?
·  Making time for your meditation practice?
·  Appreciating the people you love?
The action of introducing gentle new choices and rituals into each day is the key to activating the vision of your best self.
Spring is a season of celebration. Today we celebrate your dedication and active participation in creating a life filled with passion, joy, and good health.

Though Oprah clearly hasn’t spent enough time with me if she thinks I’ve planted anything ever. Or thinks I have a yard. Or thinks that it’s actually spring time outside. Or thinks that I’ve actually made time for my “meditation practice.”

Perhaps I need to re-think this?

Moving on.


And now, the book of the week. This book is one I read a year or more ago after reading my dad’s review, and he was absolutely right. It’s charming, it’s well-written, and you just love the characters and don’t want it to end.


And now, the Video of the Week. 

I apologize for those of you who couldn't care less about basketball. But for me, this is one of the most fun times of the year: MARCH MADNESS!

Also, I had this very painful conversation with Courtney the other day about MM. 

Me: Well, they'll all be in Vegas during March Madness, so I would imagine that'll be crazy.
Courtney: What is this "march madness" thing? Is that a thing I'm supposed to know?
Me: DUDE. You LIVE in East Lansing. How do you NOT know what March Madness is? You literally have to be in a box to have missed that.
Courtney: Can we just speed this along and have you tell me what it is so I can move on?
Me: Friendship over. 
Anyway, Spartans won their game yesterday and will be playing Memphis tomorrow for their next round in the tournament. Again, if you (a) didn't go to Michigan State and/or (b) couldn't care less about basketball, I apologize that this has all been for nought.

Happy Friday, everyone! 

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

No Money, Mo' Problems.

So yesterday, someone stole all of my money and then, in my mind, skipped all around their house as they purchased various electronic devices and pieces of stylish clothing online.

Also, it makes me jealous that someone who stole my money spent it on cooler stuff than I do. Like, I bought a bushel of grapes this morning. Thief with my money? Flat screen tv.

Anyway, after panic-calling my bank and the credit card company, I attempted to carry on professional work conversations while not throwing up all over my keyboard because of anxiety. And after an hour of that,  I decided that I should go to the bank and make sure there wasn’t anything else I could do to make this not be happening.

So, a friend and I walked down to the bank to talk to the manager who, it should be noted, for sure took a course in active listening and reflective speech. I felt like I was getting banking advice and sitting in a therapists office all at the same time. Which was useful, because I needed both and so it felt good to be efficient.

Me: "I’m glad that it’ll hopefully just be a few days. Otherwise, you guys would see me sleeping outside of the bank making sad faces in the window." 
Bank manager: "I can appreciate that this must be frustrating and it sounds like it could be a inconvenient for you for a few days." 
Me: "Yeah. The reason I’d be sleeping outside of the bank is because I would have no money." 
Bank manager: "I understand."  
Me: "So ok, thanks for this information, I appreciate the help."  
Bank manager: "You’re very welcome, and I’m sorry this is happening, it sounds like it must be frustrating for you."  
Me: "Thanks. Also, could you do me a favor and just think really good banking thoughts for me for the next few days? We’ll be doing it (motioning to my friend) and I feel like the more people who think good banking thoughts, the better."  
Bank manager, nervously laughing and looking uncomfortable.  
Me: "I mean, you don’t have to devote all of your energy to it, but just a few good thoughts every hour or so would be awesome."  
Bank manager, staring nervously because this wasn’t taught in Therapy Banking Class. 
Me, to my friend as we walked away: "I think I just terrified him. They’re definitely changing the locks the moment we leave."
Friend: "One hundred percent."

"Abracadabra...give me back my money."
Anyway, as it turns out, good banking thoughts don’t go nearly as far as they used to, and so I decided that I needed to come up with another strategy. 

And so I went to Oprah for advice. Obviously

Cut to: me listening to Oprah and Deepak Chopra talk about meditating for sixteen minutes while I nervously changed all of my passwords and put extra alerts on all of my accounts.

Turns out, Oprah and Deepak are doing a 21-Day Meditation Challenge and want me to join in. And they’re totally richer than me. So I’m definitely meditating.

The only problem is that I’m wildly unfocused when it comes to meditating, yoga, or sitting still, and so I think the word “challenge” will be the operative one here. I mean, I’m totally focused at work, when people aren’t taking my money. And I’m totally focused when I run on the treadmill, but that’s helped out by my Beyonce mix.

But when I’m sitting and listening to Oprah’s voice telling me about the journey to perfect health through meditation, all I can think about is the time that Oprah ran that marathon and totally beat my marathon time, which got me to thinking about how unfair it is that Oprah is both richer and faster than me.

And then I started thinking about how many times Oprah had to read this sixteen minute speech to me on her website, because I’ve heard that those things can take, like, days to get right when people are reading their books on tape. And so I was making bets with myself about how long it took her to get it right.

And then I started wondering whether Oprah makes Steadman do all of this stuff with her, or if he thinks it’s all hogwash, and then I had to Google where the word “hogwash” came from, and then the sixteen minutes were up and I had no idea what she’d said.

And then I realized that this 21 Day Challenge is going to be unbearable. So I ate a piece of pizza and counted the pennies in my wallet instead.

But what do you think? Should I take the challenge? It could make for some good blog material….

Happy Wednesday, everyone! 

Monday, March 18, 2013

And then there was the time we shot a cannon off in the backyard to celebrate our heritage.

So it should be known that I come from a family of four. I mean, there are more of us out there in the world – aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents – but on a day-to-day basis, on any given day of my life, my parents, my sister, and I were the Four Amigos. Though, to be fair, we never called ourselves that, and so you can stop worrying that we were aggressively un-cool our entire lives.

You see, my extended family is spread out over various corners of the country, and so I didn’t grow up with, like, my grandma down the street and my 16 cousins within a 20 mile radius. So holidays were spent, more or less, with the four of us happily eating dinner, maybe playing a game of Scrabble, enjoying each other’s company, and going to bed at a respectable 9:30. It was good time’s in the House of Amos and I think I may or may not have seen us at one point depicted in a Norman Rockwell painting when I was younger.

Cut to: Shooting off a cannon, divulging family secrets, eating your weight in food, and drinking through multiple bottles of beer, wine, and whiskey.

Also known as, Holidays with CB.  

To be fair, though, it was a totally small cannon and nobody got hurt.  

You see, CB’s family is made up of a bunch of proud Irish folks who take their heritage, and the traditions surrounding it, very seriously. Also, they like to cook and drink, and so if there’s any holiday that will allow for such indulgences, they’re right on board. And if there’s not a holiday in the near future, we’ll just call it Saturday.

However, I’ve never been a part of St. Patrick’s Day with his family until now. Last year I was on a business trip and so I missed out on the festivities. I mean, CB filled me in on who was there, how delicious the food was, and gave me the overall impression that it was a fun day had by all. But, as I found out this weekend, CB’s not real wild on details, so I missed out on the finer points of the event.  

Like, he left out the part where 20 people eat (conservatively) 30 pounds of corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, three different kinds of bread, and a salad while one-upping each other with devious tales from their youth.

Like, he left out the part where his father walks around with a shillelagh while serving whiskey and beer.

Like, he left out the part where his mother would kindly teach me how to make her mother’s traditional Irish Wheat Bread, giving me tips and tricks passed down through the generations. And then I would proceed to make a loaf that exploded all over her oven. And then they would refer to it as “the mutant bread.”

Like, he left out the part where “a low-key St. Patty’s Day this year” meant 20 people eating and drinking for 8 hours while listening to Irish music, leading to an entire conversation had between me and a family friend where I have no idea what was said because I couldn’t hear anything over the dull roar.

Like, he left out the part where he totally should’ve told me what kind of teenager he was so I could make sure that when we have children, we adopt.

I couldn't make this up if I tried. 
Like, he left out the part where they decide to shoot off a cannon from their back deck for laughs.

Yep, you read that correctly. They totally shot off a cannon from their back deck. For fun. During the daytime.

And it was awesome.

Now, for those of you regulars here, this won’t come as a huge shock to you. I mean, we all remember Thanksgiving, right? And so you’d think that it wasn’t a huge shock to me. But you learn something new every day, and yesterday, the lesson was two-fold:

1, CB’s family has an actual cannon in their home and 2, CB knows how to shoot off a cannon.

However, I think what I’m still continually surprised by is the level of enjoyment these people get out of spending time together, and the level of ease with which the event is hosted. I mean, if it were me – and God help us all if it ever is - I’d have to take a week off of work, go get a second job to help pay for all of the groceries, and likely end up ordering a pizza that morning after everything exploded/collapsed/burned/etc.

But everyone seems to chip in to help – whether it’s in the kitchen, running an errand, cleaning, moving furniture, or ordering the troops to come inside for dinner. It’s like a Bud and Jameson-fueled, sleep-deprived, well-oiled machine.

And I was thrilled to be a part of it. Though I must admit that when the question of “so, when do we get to meet your parents?” repeatedly came up, I glanced over at the canon, eyed up the shillelagh, smiled at CB and said “I think we’ll take this slow.”

Happy Monday, everyone! 

Friday, March 15, 2013

Friday Wrapup!

So, I tried getting into my office this morning using my Metrocard. Which, shockingly, didn’t work. But the most disturbing part is how long it took me to realize it.

Which can only mean one thing, right? It’s Friday! Let’s get to it.

Ok, so remember earlier this week when I mentioned that thing CB says I do, where I inexplicably hate on people (celebrities) for no reason? Like Jennifer Hudson and Nicholas Cage? 

Right. So apparently he’s onto something, because it happened again yesterday. Except this time, I learned that I wasn’t alone in my irrationality, and for that, I feel vindicated.

Me: Are they talking about Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel?
Male co-worker: Yeah, I think so.
Me: Man, I should be sitting over there.


Me: Are they talking about Cameron Diaz now?
MCW: Yeah.
Me: Ugh, I can’t stand her.
MCW: Who, Cameron Diaz?
Me: Yeah, I hate her.
MCW: You hate Cameron Diaz? Do you know her personally?
Me: No, she just bugs me. She’s a TERRIBLE actress!
Other co-worker: I liked her in “There’s Something About Mary.”
Me: Everyone liked her in that movie. That’s a given. But she’s a terrible over-actor, which is really annoying because one of my favorite chick flicks is “The Holiday” and I have to suffer through watching her in it.
MCW: Isn’t she supposed to be annoying in that movie anyway?
Me: No, I think she’s supposed to be lovable, but see? Her annoying-ness comes through whether it’s in the script or not! Plus, I was at the Daily Show one day when she was the guest, and she could barely form a sentence.
MCW: Well yeah, she might not be too bright, but you hate her for it?
Me: No, that’s not why.
MCW: You don’t like the movies she chooses?
Me: No, some are alright.
MCW: So…..
Me: I know, I know, it doesn’t make any sense, you just have to go with it! Sort of like my irrational feelings of hate towards Nicholas Cage.
MCW: What?
Me: And Val Kilmer.
Other co-worker: How do you feel about Russell Crowe?
Me: Eh, I’m neutral. I like some of his movies, I don’t hate or love him.
MCW: But he’s a total d-bag.
Me: True. But I have a propensity for d-bags. For instance, I’m in love with John Mayer.

And this is when the entire group chimed in.

In unison: WHAT? He’s the WORST!
Me: I know, I know. I didn’t say it was rational!
Female co-worker: He’s the absolute worst, please like anyone else.
Me: I can’t help it, my love for him runs deep and nothing anyone says can change that.
MCW: That’s totally irrational.
Me: Hi, have we met? My name’s Becky.
Female co-worker: But you don’t like Cameron Diaz? Why?
Me: I dunno , she just bugs me.
FCW: I feel like she’d be super fun to have a drink with.
Me: That’s true…..
FCW: But you know who I can’t stand? That chick on the Starbucks commercial who calls her mom “mommy” and talks about their sh*tty blonde brew….

And then she went off on a tirade about Starbucks coffee and the unlikeability of the actress and it made me feel at home.

Moving on.


This week’s book choice is a classic. If you haven’t read “Anna Karenina,” you’re seriously missing out. And if the fact that they all have Russian names that sound exactly alike is a deterrent, just start giving them generic names, like I did. Like, Anna can stay Anna, and Alexei can stay Alexiei. But then the second Alexiei? Make him “Bob.” And I’m not gonna lie, in my mind, I made Konstantin “Konnie” and Ekaterina “Ed.”

It totally works. Until you forget what their generic names are that you gave them, and then you realize that it’s easier just to let them have their names, and by the time you get to that point, it’s, like, halfway through the book and you’re used to it. So win/win.

Anyway, this was one of the first books I ever gave to CB, and while he looked mildly terrified at first, it ended up being one of his favorites (or so he says. He knew that talking literature was the way to my heart. That, and by having chocolate on-hand at all times.).

So, enjoy this review and then go read the book!  

Click here to read all about it!


Even a barbershop quartet version works for me.


And now, the Video of the Week. I’d be remiss if I didn’t make some reference to St. Patrick’s Day, since at least part of my heritage comes from the Emerald Isle. Of course, CB’s entire family hales from Ireland, and true to form, this means we'll be having a really low-key weekend of just hanging out and taking it easy.

No, of course that’s not true. Please.

We’ll be celebrating this weekend with family and friends, eating corned beef and cabbage and possibly consuming beer. 

Anyway, this is also a great opportunity to feature one of my all-time favorite bands for the Video of the Week AND pay tribute to the great people of Ireland. 

Also, The Edge is a dreamboat. 


Happy Friday AND St. Patrick's Day, everyone! This weekend, we're ALL Irish! 

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

On how not to make it out of your daily commute alive and why I'm very passionate about Facebook's management.

So today I had a conversation with a man on the train who begged me to punch him in the face. Which is super weird, because you’d think he’d totally know that I wasn’t the sort of gal who has ever punched someone in the face, and so he tried really, really, really hard to give me a reason.

First of all, violence isn’t the answer kids.

Second of all, sometimes envisioning your fist meeting someone’s face is the only thing that will keep you from actually losing your mind on public transit.

And I blame reality television – specifically the Jersey Shore cast and the Real Housewives of Anywhere in America – for this phenomenon. Because if you spend too much time watching any of those programs, you will determine that: (a) pulling someone’s hair while your underpants inexplicably become exposed from underneath your dress is a really good way to get thrown out of a bar and (b) fighting solves everything within 22 minutes.

But I’ve somehow gotten off of my point. Let’s get back to my mental fist-fight.

Usually, my commute is rather boring. It consists of me sitting or standing with approximately 150 other strangers for 5-7 minutes, listening to books on tape and, generally, just zoning out. However, today was one of those days where you have the Talkative New Jersey Guy standing next to you who clearly hasn’t gotten the memo that mornings are for quiet time and insists on commenting about everything he sees out loud.

You know the guy I’m talking about. He doesn’t necessarily have to be from New Jersey, though it helps. He could be from Staten Island, New York, Long Island, or hell, East Lansing, Michigan for all I care. He just has to have zero social boundaries, potentially a borderline personality disorder, and a penchant for being incredibly loud.

Today’s guest appearance by said guy all started with his observations of various individuals boarding the train.

Upon noticing that someone was wearing rain boots and carrying an umbrealla :

“Woah, someone didn’t get the sunshine memo.”

Upon noticing that there was an attractive woman on the train (shockingly, not me):

“He-l-oooo…..” and then creepily looking too long at the poor woman.

Upon reading the various news items that flashed across the tv screen on the train:

“They’re letting some woman run Facebook? Now I’ve seen everything.”

And that’s when I made the mistake of chiming in.

I KNOW, I KNOW! It’s my own fault and I take full responsibility for the mess that ensued. You can hold your commentary, I realize the error of my ways.

Me: Actually, I think she’s the COO. Mark Zuckerberg is the CEO.
NJG: Who?
Me: The guy who actually runs Facebook.
NJG: Oh right, the guy from that movie.
Me, staring blankly and realizing I should abort mission immediately.
NJG: The nerdy guy.
Me: Haha, yeah, I guess so.
NJG: Then who’s this chick?
Me: She’s the COO.
NJG: What’s that, like, the Vice President?
Me:  Kind of. She basically is in charge of running the daily business aspects of the company.
NJG: Why is a woman doing it?
Me: Wait…what?
NJG: Some Title 9 bullshit.
Me: Uh…I doubt it.
NJG: Of course, she’s one of yours.
Me: What?
NJG: She’s one of yours.
Me: One of my what?
NJG: One of your kind.
Me: Human?
NJG: Female.
Me: Right……but what does that have to do with anything?
NJG: Just that I’m sure they had a guy just as qualified to run the company but they wanted to look politically correct.

And then he paused and patted me on the shoulder.

NJG: Don’t be offended, sweetheart, I’m sure she was qualified.

And then he winked.

And then I lost my mind.

Me: First of all, please don’t call me sweetheart. My boyfriend doesn’t even call me sweetheart. Second of all, I think it has little to nothing to do with her gender and nearly everything to do with her qualifications.
NJG: Woah, relax sweetheart.
Me: I’m just saying that it’s unfair to assume she got the job because she’s a woman since you wouldn’t assume that a man in her role got it because he was a man.
NJG: Who really cares anyway?
Me: Apparently me.

Miss Piggy was my first female role 
model. But really less because of her 
strides for women's equality and more 
because I totally wanted to wear her boa. 
And then I nervously laughed because I realized that I probably sounded insane and engaged in a conversation with a guy whose opinion meant nothing to me. And also, I heard CB’s voice in my mind telling me not to get involved with people on the train because they might shiv me. 

We all remember the incident last fall where I got all Detroit on that one really rude woman and called her a “terrible person.”  

Them’s fightin’ words.

Anyway, I then came back inside of my own body and realized a few things.

  1. You really shouldn’t talk to me before I’ve had my first cup of coffee.
  2. I’m apparently very well-versed in the educational and professional background of Sheryl Sandberg.
  3. Once in a while, to everyone’s shock, I get completely fired up about something that really doesn’t matter.
  4. No, I’m not saying women’s right’s don’t matter. Just that they don’t matter when you’re talking to a guy who watches “The Soup” to get his news fix.
  5. I may want to really start thinking about working from home so I for real don’t get murdered on my way to or from work.
But ok, please tell me I’m not the only one who sometimes loses control of my own mind and words and will debate with anyone watching a subway television.


Happy Wednesday, everyone!  

Monday, March 11, 2013

And then I talked to my shoes and guilt-shopped for tissues.

So, I think I might be irrational. Which I know is going  to come as an enormous shock to those of you regular readers who come to this blog each week because of my firm grasp on reality. But I think it needed to be said.

I mean, just this morning I experienced multiple examples of irrational behavior all before getting to work, which made me realize that OH MY GOD I’M CRAZY.

Example number one

While leaving CB’s apartment this morning, I was waiting for the elevator and, because daylight savings time sucks the soul from my body and makes me hate daylight, I aggressively pushed the buttons for both elevators, just to have luck work on my side and get me downstairs faster.

But then, in an unexpected twist, both elevators showed up at the same exact moment and I had to make a game-time decision. However, upon doing so, I immediately started to feel tremendous guilt over not choosing the other one, thinking, somehow, that this mass of motors and hydraulic fluid and steel would somehow have its feelings hurt for not being chosen.

Which then lead me to feel guilt over being a greedy person, which then lead me to think about people who don’t even have access to elevators, which then lead me to thinking about people who don’t have access to running water, which reminded me that I really do need to get on CB’s case more for running the water while he brushes his teeth.

Example number two

While walking to the train, I had to stop at CVS to pick up a few items. However, it didn’t have some things that I needed, and so after much soul-searching, I decided to betray my loyalties and go to the Walgreens on the corner.

Which lead to me guilt-shopping for an entire five minutes.

You see, as CB has pointed out multiple times, I have “irrational feelings towards things that don’t make any sense and aren’t based in reality.”

Also, it’s fulfilling to be in a relationship where I really feel understood.

Me: Ugh, I hate her.
CB: Who?
Me: Jennifer Hudson.
CB: Why?
Me: I’m not sure, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but she bugs me.
CB: Ok.
Me: Doesn’t she bother you?
CB: I’ve never given it any thought.
Me: She bugs me. And I’m pretty sure I’m right.
CB: So this is one of those times where you’ve decided something not based on any actual facts but just your gut?
Me: What do you mean? I don’t do that.
CB: You do it all the time. First of all, you just used the word hate. Second, you are, like, the nicest person about everyone, but then you randomly choose people who bother you and harbor very strong, not necessarily rational, feelings towards them.
Me: I’ve never done that before Jennifer Hudson.
CB: Nicholas Cage?
Me: Everyone hates Nicholas Cage.
CB: Val Kilmer?
Me: Ditto.
CB: That one girl on the Insanity videos?
Me: Dude, she’s super-annoying, I’m right about her and it bugs me that you won’t just get on board about this. She won’t  even pull her hair back into a ponytail! Who DOES that? You’re working out, pull your hair back!
CB: I rest my case.

Anyway, back to Walgreens. So, it’s possible that I occasionally do this with a lot with companies, and basically the key to working your way into my heart and loyalties is by being the first store I went to.

I’m incredibly discerning.

You see, the CVS that I frequent has been very good to me. They’re open 24 hours a day, I know the pharmacist and where everything is, and I swear to God I get CVS discounts sent to me via email, like, every other day. It’s win/win.

However, a few years ago a Walgreens opened up a block away, giving CVS some competition. Which, of course, immediately made me feel bad for CVS and the really friendly CVS greeter whose name I don’t know but had me concerned that he maybe feared for his job if the Walgreens was too successful. Like, I would randomly think about him and his job security when I wasn’t even at CVS. Which I think is extremely normal.

However, up until today, I’d resisted going inside the evil Walgreens because I am loyal. And it’s possible that I have actually stood outside of that Walgreens on more than one occasion while a friend/family member goes inside for an item.

It’s like I’m the Rosa Parks of shopping for toilet paper and greeting cards. I stand up for what I believe in. Except in this case, it makes, um, no sense.

But whatever. I guilt-shopped, quickly picked up my items, tried not to make small-talk with the store clerk, and rushed out of there before the friendly greeter guy from CVS could see me betray him and all of his colleagues.

I’m so ashamed.

Example number three

I may or may not spend more than a normal amount of time apologizing to my shoes.

Let me explain.

While getting dressed this morning, I had the option of wearing my black flats, my tan flats, or my metallic flats. And, I would assume, for most people this would not be a Sophie’s Choice moment. For me, however, I spent nearly five minutes trying to think of how many times over the course of the last few weeks I’d worn each pair, wanting to give them all equal foot-time. Obviously.

I guarantee you I was barely
keeping it together in this photo, too
concerned about the other
Laura Ingalls hat sadly hanging
in my bedroom all alone. 
Please note: at no point was I concerned whether or not I’d worn the shoes too much, hence, worrying that people at work would think I only had three pairs of shoes. No no. I was worried for the shoes. My appearance had little to nothing to do with it. 

And so, after choosing the black flats, I actually said “I’m sorry, guys” to the other pairs as I put them back in the closet. And then PROMISED THE TAN SHOES I’D WEAR THEM TOMORROW.

And then the nice men in white coats came to take me home.

CB’s so lucky.

Happy Monday, everyone! 

Friday, March 8, 2013

Friday Funday Wrapup!

Happy (snowy) Friday, everyone! Let’s get right to it – it’s time for the Friday Wrapup! Admittedly, though, it’s sort of sparse because I’ve been traveling and it’s a miracle I even remembered today was Friday. Please forgive me (and come back again next week when I’m back to normal!)

Ok, no joke, someone has to fill me in on what I obviously missed. Why is everyone Facebook making "Harlem Shake" videos? 

I'm serious. Did I miss something? What on earth IS this?


So I was listening to the “news” this morning (I put that in quotes because I’m pretty sure a story about Justin Bieber fainting after a concert, followed by a story about how Kate Middleton gave away the gender of her baby by accident, does not a hard-hitting news story make…) and they spent at least 4-5 minutes talking about this new “study” that says the reason women are fatter now (I’m paraphrasing here) is because we don’t do as much housework as we did 30 years ago.

And then I had this monologue with the television out loud:

Me: F you, study.


Me: Is this for real???


Me: Wait, can cleaning burn more calories?

"Give it here, Amos."
And then I quickly, like, cleaned my bathroom and re-made the bed.

And then Gloria Steinem knocked on the door and took away my feminist card. 

But it reminded me of this little diddy that I posted about last year, and so I thought I’d share it again, just so you can all get your bras ready for burning this weekend.


Onto the book of the week. I think nearly everyone in my family has read this book by now, and it’s a beautifully written and well-told story. It’s possible that some of you have already read it, as I think it found itself onto the New York Time Bestsellers list for quite some time.

But for those of you who have not, enjoy and click here for the review.


And now, the Video of the Week.

Ok, so I’m going to go out on a limb here and speak for all humankind when I say that I’m ready for winter to be over. I mean, I’m usually winter’s biggest fan, and grumble as I have to start stripping down layers and pulling out the fans. But for some reason, winter has given me a run for my money – between the flu’s and the colds and the flooding and the transportation shut downs and the soggy commutes to work – and so I think I’m ready for some springtime!

But don’t worry, winter, you’ll always be my first love.  And I’ll be looking forward to you after complaining about how hot it is between May and September.

Also, coming back from Miami to this down-pouring of rain and snow was a cruel joke. But the crueler joke is on those who have had the distinct displeasure of seeing me disrobe at the gym, with the Rorschach spots of hot pink sun burns all over my feet, hands, and random parts of my limbs.  

Anyway, to make myself feel better, I was going to make this week’s video something really inspired, like Will Smith’s “Miami.” But for the life of me, I couldn’t find the actual video! I mean, granted, I YouTubed it, didn’t find it, and gave up. But still.

However, a friend then sent me the below video, which made me happy because it combines things that I love:

Humor. Pop/hip-hop. And Justin Timberlake. Enjoy! 

Happy Friday, everyone! 

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

And then I almost died in the fire lane at Newark Airport.

So it’s possible that I watch too many crime dramas. Or that I’m within the margins of clinically insane. But if you ask me, I’m pretty sure last night I was this close to being murdered in the middle of the night at Newark International Airport.

Let me explain.

First of all, something you should know about me is that I have a growing number of people who have sworn never to travel with me ever again. But not for reasons you might think, like that I’m completely high maintenance or a total drag and no fun. It’s because nearly every time I travel, it’s like someone’s filming a low budget “Punk’d” episode, except Ashton Kutcher never comes out at the end with his Tom Hardy hat on sideways and lovingly hugs me while I tell him how much I’m gonna’ get him back for this.

Instead, you just end up feeling a little weird about life in general for a  few days after your return from said Trip With Becky and wonder why I ever leave the tri-state area at all.

And while last night’s experience wasn’t the worst I’ve ever had, there was definitely a moment where I thought “it’s possible I might get hacked up into little pieces and/or have my face eaten off by a copycat Cannibal Cop. Better email work and tell them I might be late.”

So after boarding the plane and then sitting on the tarmac for an hour while a baby cried next to me in a really soothing tone, I completely settled into that super relaxed feeling I’d had earlier on the beaches of Miami.

Also, when I say “super relaxed feeling,” it’s possible I mean that I sat on the beach after all of my meetings and returned work emails while the tops of my feet and hands burned because nobody EVER remembers to put sun block on those parts of their bodies, right?

Anyway, once the plane finally took off, I closed my eyes, moved my seat back a quarter of an inch, and then got into a passive-aggressive kick-war with the guy behind me who clearly did not appreciate the fact that I moved my seat back just enough so that my face wasn’t squarely planted in the seatback of the person in front of me.

Ahhh, air travel.

So just as it was safe to use my portable electronic device again, an announcement came over the loud speaker asking if there were any physicians on the flight, and if so, could they please ring their call button?

Uh oh.

Obviously, everyone immediately turned to see what all the excitement was about, which isn’t as easy as one might think when you’re buckled down in an airplane. So basically what I saw was a lot of nervous flight attendants running up and down the aisle, some even more nervous passengers, and a bunch of people motioning to the guy laying unconscious on the floor.

So, naturally, I turned back around, put my headphones on, and turned the music up.

What? I’m not a medic!

Anyway, fast forward three hours to when we landed (and yes, he was fine and walked himself off the plane with an actual medic, so I was right not to worry, guys) and it was nearly one in the morning. I’d been up for 19 hours and really ready to get home, so when the car service I always use for business trips arrived within five minutes of my call, I was feeling pret-ty good that sleep wasn’t far away.

Until I got into the car.

Me: Hi there.
Driver: Hi. Can I ask you a question, if you don’t mind?
Me: Uh….sure?
Driver: Do you have any cash on you?


Me: What?
Driver: Do you have any cash? I need fifteen dollars for the tolls.
Me: Uh… wait, what tolls? There aren’t any tolls between here and Hoboken.
Driver: Yes, but I don’t have any cash on me, I left it all in my other coat at home. I know exactly where I left all of the money, too.
Me: Oh, I’ve totally done that, that’s so annoying!
Driver: So if you could please give me fifteen dollars, I won’t charge you for the tolls.
Me: Um….I’m not sure I understand. There aren’t any tolls. And also, I don’t get charged for this, my company does. I never see the bill…….and, again, there aren’t any tolls.
Driver: Yes, but I don’t have any money.
Me, shuffling through my bag now, shaking, worrying that I’m about to die in some weird $15 hit: I only have four dollars. Is that good?
Driver: You don’t have any more money? I twenty, perhaps?

Jeez, dude, I don’t have $20! Take no for an answer! Also, please don’t murder me.

Me: I swear, this is all I have.
Driver: Ohhhhh, no, no, no……
Me, panic-sweating: What?
Driver: I cannot take you home.
Me, barely keeping it together, just in case there were cameras around and I was on national television: Wait, why? There aren’t any tolls!
Driver: I don’t have any money.
Me: Ok, but there is an ATM inside. You could get money there.
Driver: No, I can’t do that.
Me: Um….ok, you know what? I’m going to call the car service again and have someone else come get me. I’m really sorry I don’t have fifteen dollars.
Driver: No, no, I’ll call them, you just sit there.

"Please don't chop me up. I really
don't have $15."
And so he did. And so I did. And also, I started going through all of the things I still had yet to do in my life that now I’ll never get the opportunity to do because I’m about to become the latest cold case on “Dateline.”

Fast forward to ten minutes later, when I’m panic-emailing my boss about what is happening JUST IN CASE I DIE. 

Me, nervously: So is the other driver coming soon?
Driver: Yes, he’s 6 minutes away.

Um, there’s no way you know that, dude. Please don’t murder me.

Me: I’m really sorry, again, that I don’t have fifteen dollars.
Driver: Me too.

I’m going to die.

But just then, the other driver arrived, I hopped out of the murderer’s car and into the other one, closing the door without even saying a word.

New, non-murderous driver: What just happened?
Me: I have no idea. He needed money and asked me for fifteen dollars-
NNMD: He asked you for money???
Me: Yes
NNMD: For what??
Me: I’m not sure? He said it was for tolls, but there aren’t any tolls between here and Hoboken. So maybe for gas?
NNMD: No, they give us gas cards.
Me: Um…..I don’t know. But he really wanted fifteen dollars.
NNMD: I’m so sorry he asked you that, that should never have happened.
Me: It’s ok. I’m just glad I didn’t die.
NNMD: What?
Me: Oh, haha, no, I’m just kidding.
NNMD: Well, you never know who you’re getting into the car with.
Me, nervously: Haha, yeah, I guess that’s true……

And then I think I passed out from the anxiety and woke up in Hoboken, safe and sound with four dollars in my wallet and all of my limbs and face still attached.

Welcome to my life.

Happy Wednesday!  

PS As some of you know, Stories About My Underpants got voted one of the Top 25 Humor Blogs on SkinnyScoop – thank you! But now I have to choose a post that best exemplifies this blog.

Some of you have given me your feedback on the blog’s Facebookpage  - and keep ‘em coming! – but I need more! Right now it seems to be between the one where I sang that Two Princes song to the boy I liked in high school, the Valentine’s Day post, or that one where I got all of my underpants stolen.

What do you think? 

Monday, March 4, 2013

"I'm in Miami, trick."

So I'm in Miami on business and am unable to post today. But I'm already mentally writing a blog post for later this week, so please stay tuned!

In my brief absence, feel free to browse the archives...and happy Monday, everyone!

Friday, March 1, 2013

A not-so-typical Friday Wrapup.

It’s finally sunny, everyone at work seems to be distracted by things non-work-related, and I’m already on my second cup of coffee. Something tells me that it’s time for the Friday Wrapup!

I wanted to thank everyone who voted for me as one of the Top 25 Humor Blogs over on SkinnyScoop. You guys rock. And if I did the math correctly, which we all know is a big if, it looks like I came in 7th out of 73 nominations.

I’ll take it!

I mean, if getting beaten out by The Bloggess and Filing-Jointly is what has to happen, I’m just glad to be in their company. Which sort of sounds like all of those poor saps who get nominated for Oscars and never win and are all like “Oh, I’m just honored to be nominated with Meryl Streep” and everyone knew they totally weren’t going to win because, hello, it’s MERYL STREEP.

But before I count my chickens, let’s wait for the “final” results, which are apparently being announced next week.

However, I think the best part about being nominated (there I go again!) is that (a) it wasn’t a nomination by a blood relative, myself, or a friend I paid to do it and (b) that CB voted for me and, in doing so, had to sign up to the website.

Also, just after that, this email exchange happened:

CB: I voted for you… but let it be known that in order to vote for you (because I’m not on Facebook) I had to register with Skinnyscoop and now I am officially a member of a group that sent me a welcome email advertising beauty essentials, parenting products, and the things ladies love the most right now. I believe my man card was just revoked.
 Me: Hahahahaha…..if I'd known that I totally wouldn't have asked you to do it! (but I'm sort of glad I did anyway).
 CB:  I take it you didn’t look at their home page. It opens with “a list of women who inspire me”… from Maya Angelou to Beyonce… from Margaret Thatcher to Madeleine Albright… I’m a member of a group who probably wouldn’t have me as a member. I can’t wait to get my first email from Oprah and an invitation to be on The View.

And this is why we work.


So this week’s book recommendation I wrote about one of my favorite (recent) books. Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? , um, rocks. If you think I’m even REMOTELY funny, then you will be laughing out loud while reading this. I promise.

Also, I may or may not have creeped out a fellow subway passenger yesterday who happened to be reading this book in assumed privacy yesterday.

Me: Oh my God, I love that book, isn’t it so funny?
Weirded out subway rider: Yeah, it’s great.
Me: What part are you at?

And then I did that weird thing where I sort of glanced over to try and read what part she was at so we could talk about it.

And then she pulled the book away.

WOSR: Um……
Me: Oh, sorry. I just get really excited about books sometimes. And Mindy Kaling.

And then I put my headphones back on and pretended like that didn’t happen. Which is my patent-pending go-to move when things get awkward.

What? Me? No, that didn’t happen. You totally just made that up. Now stop talking about it.

Anyway, go read the review and then immediately pick up the book at your local bookstore – if that exists in your hometown – or download it onto something fancy you carry around and prove me wrong.

And you’re welcome.

On a much more somber note, after a heroic battle and a rollercoaster ride of emotions over the last several days, weeks, and months, DK passed away on Wednesday evening.  

First of all, thank you so much for your emails, Facebook posts, texts, and just general kindness over these last two weeks. None of it has gone unnoticed.

Second of all, while this is an incredibly sad, emotional, and trying time for CB’s entire family, I must say that the spirit of DK is living on.

He’s living on in the laughter over shared, remembered stories from decades past. He’s living on in the smiles of his two incredible, kind, generous, and funny children, both of whom I’m lucky to count among my friends. He’s living on in the unwavering strength and love and compassion shown by his wife. He’s living on in the faces of his five brothers and sisters and his countless nieces and nephews. And he’s living on in my brief but vivid memories of Jets games and Thanksgiving craziness. 

He will be forever missed but kept alive by the stories being told by this crazy, huge, funny, wild, and loving family. 

And boy, are there stories. (and if anyone from the family would like to pay me off to keep these stories off of the blog, I accept check, cash, money order, and PayPal.)


And now for the Video of the Week. 

While I was tempted to post another Bruce song in honor of DK (like I did last week) I've decided to choose an artist that I'm pretty sure was totally up at the top of his list of favorites just below Mr. Springsteen. I mean, obviously.  

But in all seriousness (where I reside so infrequently), this song has been playing on heavy rotation on my iPod over the last two weeks, and seemed fitting for today.