Wild Kingdom

I got roped into going to a purse party last night. My 19 year old cousin asked me if I would go like a month ago and to appease her, I said sure. I had no intention of actually going. But when she called me on Wednesday night to remind me, I got suckered. Knowing that I am a girl of my word, she completely manipulated me. I finally gave in and told her I would attend with the understanding that I would be on my couch by 8 for The O.C. A girl's gotta draw the line somewhere.

I have been invited to these home parties before even though I try to avoid them like the plague. Purse parties, jewelry parties, Pampered Chef, Mary Kay...the list is never ending. I view these as things the women in their 40's do because it is an excuse to invite people over and get drunk. I have no problem going out and getting drunk...I do not need an excuse. I also do not need to add fake designer bags and shoddy jewelry into the mix.

I get there and am literally the only one above 20. I found myself hanging out in the kitchen talking to the moms. Not the best start.

Then the lady started putting the purses out and all hell broke loose. These girls went crazy. I mean fighting, clawing, scratching, biting...nothing was off limits. She didn't even have time to put prices on them before the girls were attacking her. These girls, who minutes ago were chatting nicely, had turned into animals.

Each of them had about 6 purses on each of their arms, all fake and all $60-$100 bucks a piece. When I was in college, I was broke. I would have $20 for the week and that would pay for everything. The thought of spending $60on a fake purse would have been ludicrous, nevermind the hundreds of dollars they were shelling out.

I tried to hide in the corner so as not to get injured in the melee. But no place was safe. I was accosted and asked for my opinion on about 75 different purses and reprimanded because I was only carrying one around. There was even a 2 year old boy wandering around carrying his mom's purse options. It was crazy.

Finally, things seemed to calm down. But then the lady started laying out the jewelry and the feeding frenzy began all over again. By this point I had only been there for 45 minutes but decided I had enough so I tried to leave. That wasn't happening either. After about another 10 minutes of "I REALLY have to go" did I make a narrow escape to the safety of my car.

It may have been the scariest hour of my life.

I did walk into work this morning with my new fake Prada though.

Fight the Power

Popstar's most recent post about her experience in Brooks Pharmacy has prompted me to write about something very near and dear to my heart. The practice of boycotting certain place because they have wronged you in some way.

This is common practice in my family. My father believes that he single handedly put Caldor out of business after they screwed him for $10. He refused to ever set foot in a Caldor store and lo and behold, they went bankrupt and out of business. We believe that one person can make a difference. Especially if you talk enough shit and get others to join in your boycott.

Currently, I am on my soapbox boycotting the following places:

1. Brooks Pharmacy - obviously as this is what prompted me to write about this topic in the first place. I hate Brooks Pharmacy. They single handedly crushed my dream. I am leaving it at that.

2. Wal Mart - plain and simple...they suck. While they do offer very low prices, it is not worth the aggravation of shopping in their extremely narrow aisles and very unorganized store. It takes me way to long to find what I need. Once I do, I am forced to wait in a line 30 people deep because there are only 2 cashiers ringing people up with the following 45 lines are closed. I prefer the serenity of Target.

3. United States Post Office - Since I can pay most of my bills online, I have no use for the post office. However, even buying stamps is a difficult experience. Again, there is one person working while about 100 are waiting in line. I'll buy my stamps elsewhere. If I need to mail a package, I do so from work and pay the postage.

4. Arkansas - Had lunch at the Waffle House, saw the dog track and narrowly avoided the dry counties ahead. That is enough for me.

5. Edinburgh, Scotland - their public transportation system left much to be desired, the entire city closes at 6 pm. and I couldn't get a travel alarm clock and almost missed my flight. The B & B was very Bates Motelian and the proprietor and his helper a little scary.

6. Boston Market - Got food poisoning there in high school. Two years later, my mother god food poisoning from BM in a different state. Nuff said.

7. The movie Flight Plan - It is a blatant rip off of Alfred Hitchcock's 1938 film The Lady Vanishes. The missing child is a really a British spy trying to stop the Nazi's which in this case will be the flight crew. End of story.

Freak Show

The McDougall family is very big on day trips. Last week was Newport, this week, exotic Springfield, Mass to take on the legendary Big E. (I had the day off yesterday so, for those of you who are counting, that is the 2nd Monday in a row I have had off. But seeing as I worked all weekend, I am entitled.)

For those of you who have never been to the Big E, it is quite an experience. If you are interested in buying a pool, seeing the world's largest pig, Chinese acrobats spinning plates and riding unicycles and the winner of the most perfect Christmas tree competition, this is the place for you. It is the most eclectic gathering of vendors, animals and all other life forms I have ever seen assembled in one giant field.

I go to the Big E for two specific reasons; to eat and to pay $1 to see the funniest exhibits known to man. This year was even more fun then previous years because my 13 year old cousin came with us. He was thinking that he was taking the day off from school to go to a Six Flags type fair. Man was he surprised when we got there and saw that the "fair" had more cows than rides. Hilarious.

Back to our $1 exhibits. My cousin and I decided that we were going to hit up all of them. The first one we visited had live bears. One of the bears was the biggest thing I have ever seen. However, you cannot keep a giant live bear in a ghetto ass trailer without the threat of the bear becoming enraged and ripping apart unsuspecting fair-goers. Therefore, this bear was EXTREMELY tripped out. You could see it wobbling like a drunk as it struggled to live up to it's fearsome expectations.

The next one was the giant pig. I believe they billed the pig as being large enough to make enough sausage to fill 1000 people. If you ask me, this is probably not the best advertising campaign to get kids to your exhibit. "Hey kids, come see Wilbur before we sell him off to Jimmy Dean or you find him as part of your next Fenway frank." Just my opinion.

I missed the giant shark and piranha exhibit. But according to my cousin, we've seen bigger sharks on vacation.

Last but not least...my favorite reaction came from the exhibit claiming to have the world's only unicorn. And you can see it for only a buck! Now, I had visions of a horse with a horn tied around it's head. I refused to be suckered. Not even for one dollar, I had to draw the line somewhere. So my cousin went in to see what it was all about. It was even worse then I thought. It was not a horse, but a cow. A cow that would normally have 2 horns had apparently lost one horn in a freak accident, leaving it with only one horn . Apparently this qualified it as the world's only unicorn. Not sure how anyone arrived at this conclusion but ok.

The best part was the amount of people standing in line to go in with their cameras ready. They were so excited to see a real unicorn. This made me very sad for the future of mankind. I just wanted to yell at them "Hey dumb ass, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A UNICORN!" But alas, I was content to sit and make fun of them.

That was the end of anther eventful year at the Big E. I can only wait until next year to see what freaky exhibits they can come up with. A 100 foot python made of plastic? Maybe a house cat wearing a fake beard can be the world's smallest lion. I don't know, but one thing is for certain, in most cases (not the unicorn) it is worth the buck to see what these people can come up with.

Boys

To preface, this is a companion piece to my friend Lollapalluko's most recent post about her man troubles. We were having a very "Sex and the City" moment on Friday...four girls sitting around drinking their beers (not Cosmos...we're real women) and talking about men and sex. Palluko and I realized that we have very different dating woes.

While she is a magnet for unavailable men and older gentleman, I seem to attract young frat boys. I am not sure what the rationale behind this is. I have always been told I look young. I still get carded at R rated movies sometimes...seriously, it's happened at least 2 or 3 times over the last couple of years. Anyway, in the last month, I have met 2 guys with whom I have exchanged phone numbers. Neither of which was over the age of 23.

Since being single, I have noticed a big difference in dating younger men vs. men my own age and older. The latter group actually calls to ask you out on real dates and takes you to a fancy dinner followed by even fancier drinks. They either pick you up or walk you to your car at the end of the date. Even more impressive, they make the follow up phone call a day or two later to tell you they had a nice time and ask you out again. They are mature and not playing games. Evidentially, I find this boring because I rarely make it to a second date with these fellas.

The younger guys are quite different. First off, I have gotten text messages rather then phone calls and never any concrete plans. It is more like "If you're going out tonight, let me know and we can meet up." I actually made it to 3 dates with one younger guy (he was 24 and he took me to see "The Incredibles") I think we talked on the phone a total of 2 times. We always made plans via email. Very romantic.

However out of character, I find myself a more intrigued and more likely to go out with this second group. It is a little more of a challenge and therefore, more fun. Maybe it is because I didn't get my fill of them when I was in my early 20's. Maybe it is because I know it isn't going anywhere and the thought of actually going out with someone I could like is the scariest thing imaginable. Maybe they are just hot.

I dunno.

I have bad taste in music

There I admitted it. I am out of the closet. This has been a deep dark secret for years now. Only now I feel that I have the courage to speak out about it. Maybe I am growing as a person. I doubt it, but you never know.

Below I have listed proof of my musical indiscretions:

• I actually own a copy of The Karate Kid Soundtrack. Yes, I bought it.
• The CD currently in playing in my car has music from Nine Inch Nails, Linkin Park/Jay-Z, the Pointer Sisters, Jet, Destiny's Child and Tim McGraw just to name a few.
• My favorite guilty pleasure song is by Kenny Rogers.
• I actually own THREE N'Sync albums. I bet you didn't even know that they put out three albums (However, in my defense, I did not buy the Christmas one...my mother did)
• My favorite karaoke song (again, yes I have done karaoke) is The Devil Went Down to Georgia.
• I know every word to pretty much every Bon Jovi song ever recorded.
• I own Billboard albums from the 80's.

I think that is all of the bad music purging I can handle for one day. It looks a lot worse when I put it in print. I am deeply ashamed. But that will not stop me from belting out a little Britney Spears on my way out to Happy Hour today.

Superstitions

I am a very superstitious person. I don't like Friday the 13th. I throw salt over my shoulder if I spill it. If I get a bad feeling about something, I don't do it. Full moons just invite trouble. Don't even get me started on bridges. There are about a million other weird quirks that I care not to mention. You get the idea.

This extreme paranoia stems from my father of who I am a carbon copy. As a Guinea, it is in his genetic make up to be panicky about anything even slightly ominous. Since I am one generation removed, my phobias are not as great as his. However they have been put to the test in the past day.

I came home yesterday after a rather uneventful day. As I walked up to my front door, there was a black cat sitting in the pavement right in my path. My cat loving side overtook my superstition at that moment (it was only sign #1) so I bent down to pet it. It promptly hissed at me, tried to scratch me and ran away. Not a good start.

Then I stopped at my mailbox. Normally it is filled with bills and "Dear Resident" mail. Today there was only one thing. A notice about buying cemetery plots. No joke. I turned it over and sure enough it was not a "Resident" message. It was addressed to me.

Now I was freaked. I walked in the house trying to avoid any potential pitfalls such as falling rocks, a stray patch of quicksand or the ax wielding bogeyman in my closet. I tried to be a rational person and not let these trivial things bother me but you can only fight so hard against your upbringing.

I managed to make it throughout the night alive. However, this morning the bad luck began.

I woke up after my alarm which made me run late all morning. Once I finally got my shit together and was ready to leave, I couldn't find my car keys. I looked for a good 20 minutes before I located them. Now I was really going to be late for work.

I got in my car and was all ready to leave when I realized that I had left my sunglasses in the house. Not normally a big deal, but since I was going to be working outside most of the day, I needed them. So back to house, looked for the sunglasses and then back to the car. At this point, it was time to be at work and I had not even left yet.

Then comes the ride. Missing the 1st light on the Berlin Turnpike causes you to miss the next 756 lights. And of course that is what happened.

I needed some chapstick (I am an addict for those of you who don't know) Guess what, I am out.

I can tell that this is a start to what is going to be a bad day. I am spending the rest of it VERY close to a bridge, which again, I won't get into.

I can only hope that some of my lucky Irish side comes out or I may not be here tomorrow.

Godspeed.

The Blue Lobster

A one in five million shot. Apparently those are the odds. And I am the one.

The year was 1987 and I was vacationing with my family on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. We have gone to Hilton Head every summer since I was a baby. At this point in time, we were poor folk who used to cram five people into our Pontiac T-1000 hatchback with no air conditioning and make the 18 hour road trip. The only thing we had to look forward to on this ride was South of the Border and the signs leading up to it. Pedro sells fireworks and charges .50 cents to use the bathroom. At least in 1987.

Anyway, I was looking forward to being out of school and frolicking on the beach for two weeks (I was 8, not much else to look forward to) I had no idea that this trip would be so momentous.

On the fateful day, I was cavorting in the waves alone looking longingly at my sisters who were both a good 20 feet out from me. I was way too much of a wuss to venture out into deeper waters on my own and in the grand tradition of older siblings, they were content to not help me, preferring to watch me suffer.

While standing there, I felt a slight pinch on my left Achilles tendon. I looked around my feet to investigate but the incessant surf made it impossible. It didn't seem painful enough to be a jellyfish sting and I hadn't stepped on anything.

I tried shaking my foot to loosen whatever had attached itself. Still, there was pain. My curiosity got the better of me and I headed closer to shore. The pain was increasingly getting worse. Maybe it was a jellyfish sting.

When I finally made it to shore, I looked down at my ankle. At first I was confused. This didn't make sense. What the hell is that? Then panic took over. I started shaking my leg violently. "Get off, get off, get off!"I screamed. Finally, my captor let go and headed back out into the safety of the ocean.

I screamed bloody murder and ran towards my mother as fast as I could. This was the worst day at the beach ever.

At the time, I did not realize the magnitude of my discovery or how it would impact my life. It wasn't until about 3 years ago when I was watching a show on the Discovery Channel that I truly realized what I had witnessed. It was one of those scientific shows about ocean creatures that I pretend to think are dorky but actually find very interesting (I have to admit this now because I no longer have anyone else to blame)

They showed a picture of a blue lobster on the screen. Nonchalantly, I said "Oh, I've seen one of those before." This simple comment prompted my companion to burst into hysterics. "Yeah, right," he replied. "You know the odds of seeing one of those are like one in a million." I had not been aware of that fact and I was not about to correct Mr. Wizard himself. I watched the segment with growing fascination. He was wrong though, the odds were really one in five million.

It was like I had stumbled on some mythical creature for the land of Narnia. The only problem was that no one believed me. I appealed to my family to back my story, but no one had witnessed the incident or remembered my crying (negative side effect of being a crier...people can't remember when you are actually upset) Everyone believed that I had made it up and I had really only seen a blue crab. Then the teasing began...

Three years later, the jokes still going strong. But it doesn't matter to me. I know what I saw. My only wish...if I was only going to get one shot at something with one to five million odds, why couldn't I have won the lotto or something cool like that?

The Weekend Recap

I had a very good weekend. Here is my quick recap.

• Thursday - took a mental health day off from work and logged some serious QT with my couch.
• Friday - pretended to work until 3 pm when I left early to collect on some comp time I was owed. After a lovely dinner of comfort food (homemade mac and cheese) and back to the couch. Yum.
• Saturday - Slightly disappointing morning because the family horseback riding outing got cancelled. However, the night picked up as we headed to the casino. Good times with friends that included Laguna's, Dieter's, shots, a recast of the original Laguna Beach followed by new casting for The OC, shout outs to Bea Arthur, pizza, and drunk dials...just to name a few. The night wrapped up with me sleeping comfortably on Popstar's bathroom floor.
• Sunday - A VERY entertaining ride home centering around Kenny Loggins. Don't ask! Followed by my mom calling me up and telling me that I am now booked on a cruise to Mexico in February. What happened in Cabo, stays in Cabo. Very cool. Oh, also had one of the worst hangovers I can remember since college.
• Monday - Took a personal day and when with the fam to Newport for the day to spend some time touring mansions and hanging out on the water. The evening consisted of Wentworth Miller, a new Laguna Beach, and most importantly...THE GIANTS STARTING THEIR SEASON AT 2-0!

Now it is Tuesday and back to reality (ie, the torture that is work) Seeing as I have about 10 more hours until I am allowed to go home, I choose to find my happy place of the day (no not Shaun on the bull. At least not at the moment) and look at Wentworth who is smiling down on me from my bulletin board. Ah...

Defining the Frustrated Writer

So I am officially becoming a blogger. This will give me something interesting to muse over while at work. It will also prevent me from acting on my daily impulse to walk into the boss's office and quit my job. So really, this is a good thing for all those concerned.

Anyway, I am a frustrated writer. All that means is that to me, writing is a labor of love. I have countless scripts, books, short stories, poems etc. that currently exist in one of two places, my head or my hard drive. Since neither are readily accessible to the general population, I qualify as a frustrated writer. I will not classify myself as "tortured artist" since the real reason that I have never had anything published is a direct result of my laziness. I never finish anything. So in an attempt to let some of the creativity flow, I have decided to blog and subject you all to my warped imagination.

I believe that is a good enough intro for day one. I can't give away all of my secrets and neurosis right off the bat. This is only Act One.