Halloween Weekend

As a candy addicted, easily spooked, Hitchcock loving individual who loves to dress up, Halloween is a perfect holiday for me. I was unable to participate in the festivities last year because I was working, so I decided to go all out this year.

My friend got us invited to this huge costume party in Boston at a bar affectionately nicknamed "The Cheesy." We decided that we were going to hit it up and hit it up in style. I am sure my other blog friends will write about this as well since we were all there, so apologize for any duplicate stories!

The plan was to head up to Boston early on Saturday afternoon so we could enjoy the city and maybe get some dinner. The group met at my place where we were planning to Family Truckstering it up. We stopped at Wendy's and I had my JBC in an attempt to further prove my newest hypothesis (Conclusion: works for me. Does not work for Durk.)

Once we hit Massachusetts, we also hit a snowstorm. Yes, actual accumulating snow. It was bizarre. The snow negated our "go out and enjoy the city" plan. Instead, once at the hotel, that is where we stayed. Food (3 pizzas??) beer, college football, WPT and Catwoman kept us entertained until it was time to start getting ready.

I would be remiss if I forgot to mention that Dieter was the lone male in a room with 6 women. Watching football was a trip. He endured such girly comments as "the N on their helmets does not look right. It's too high" and "I don't like the color of those uniforms." I think he went over the edge when Paluko announced she was going to start getting ready an hour and a half before we were planning to leave and then he couldn't use the bathroom because it was constantly occupied with primping girls.

We came in as Midge, Durk, Popstar, Dieter, McDougall, Paluko and Brit and left as a flapper, a witch, Trinity and Neo, a cop, the St. Pauli Girl and a pilot. The party was in full swing when we arrived there. Some of the costumes were very generic and others, really creative. I think my favorites were: Bob Ross and his happy tree, the New Orleans looter, Mr. Peanut, and the six pack of Heineken.

Most of the funnier stuff happened post party. Once in the hotel room, we realized that we were one man down. Where was Popstar? I'm sure she can tell you her side of the story, but this is how it happened from our end.

Dieter and I rushed out to come to her rescue. Somehow she had ended up at the wrong hotel a few blocks away and we went to collect her. When I say rushed, I mean rushed. I went outside in a tank top, yoga pants and barefoot in the Midge's Timbs which are a least a size too small for me. This was 2 in the morning in a city where it had snowed. I am an asshole.

Apparently thinking that Popstar was in some horrible danger rather then sitting in a heated hotel lobby, I convinced Dieter that it was imperative that we run all over the city looking for her. We were about 5 blocks off course and pretty much ran about 17 miles in a circle. During that time, Dieter had his sister on the phone who was trying to Mapquest our location to Popstar's location and keep yelling over and over again that we were right in front of the hotel (which we never were)

Finally, Popstar got a ride back to the hotel and Dieter and I ran back. Once back, the drunk dialing/texting began. Looking at my call history the next morning, I called no less then 4 people and accused at least one of them of being gay. And I wonder why no one answers their phone.

The ride home the next morning turned out to be more eventful then we had anticipated. It started in the parking garage where no one could remember where the car was. We finally found it after trying 3 different floors. After that, it took us almost two and a half hours to complete a one and a half hour road trip. Pit stops to McDonalds and unscheduled stops by the side of the road and at Jiffy Lube for an ailing Durk impeded our forward progress.

In the end, I only go handcuffed to one person, spent $66 to sleep on the floor, went home with a giant blister and became the proud owner of some incrimination photos of Durk. All in all, it was a really great night.

Hang up the Gloves

I am a little angry at Sylvester Stallone. Now that may seem irrational and misdirected, but I feel as though he has completely disappointed me more then once over the past couple of weeks.

I have loved Sly for as long as I can remember. Between Rocky, Rambo, Cliffhanger and of course, Over the Top (yes, I liked the movie. My dad is my hero and he drives a truck. Nothing is cooler then arm wrestling and truck driving) I forgave him for such movies as Rocky V, Oscar and Stop or My Mom Will Shoot.

When he re-emerged this past year with The Contender, I was ecstatic. A boxing reality show hosted by Rocky himself. That's quality television right there. The season was good although I was disappointed a little by the chopped up fights, the fact that Joey's face got busted open and Peter Manfredo Jr. lost. But, that's the way it goes.

My first beef with Mr. Stallone is that joke of a rematch between Peter and Sergio for the Contender belt. I had waited with much anticipation for the rematch since the show ended in May. I stayed up to 2:30 am to watch the undercards and the main event. Peter kicked the crap out of Sergio, but it ended in a split decision and Sergio retained the belt. Now maybe this wasn't totally Sly's fault but I blame him nonetheless.

Next up was the announcement that he had signed on to do Rocky VI. Hold on, let me say that again...ROCKY VI?? Did they not see Rocky V? Why can't we just leave a good thing alone. I love Rocky. Quote it religiously. But come on...there is no way this could ever be a quality film. Let it lie, Sly. Maybe you need the money but this is NOT a good idea.

Then today as I began my work day ritual of checking my email and reading the day's headlines, I read that he has signed on to do a fourth Rambo. It is set to begin filming in the spring although they have no director and no script. That sounds like a recipe for success if I have ever heard it.

One of these indiscretions in and of itself might not seem so bad but when you combine all of these together, I can only arrive at one conclusion. He's lost his mind. And I am severely disappointed.

First Dates

Since entering "The Single Life" almost a year and a half ago, I have come to find humor in the dating realm. I was recounting some of the details of my more memorable 1st dates to my friend yesterday when I realized (or hope anyway) that many of my experiences probably not typical of the 1st date.

Marathon Boy - this was my first real date in almost 8 years. We had talked back and forth for a few weeks before he asked me to go out. Not to dinner or the movies or anything cliché like that. No, this guy took me to a $100 a plate fundraiser. Never before when getting ready to go out did I have to don a ball gown and an up do. Not only that, but the theme was Hollywood. I had to walk the red carpet, talk to "Joan" and "Melissa" who asked who I was wearing and made me do a turn for the "cameras."

Metro Boy - I met this guy at Happy Hour in the Heartbeat one Friday after work. We hit it off and Happy Hour turned into going home at 4 am. I got into my friend's car after the really awkward is he or isn't he going to ask for my number moment. He didn't and we went to leave. Then he started chasing the car down apparently deciding that he wasn't going to punk out. Our 1st date started at Trumbull Kitchen (which is a wonderful restaurant, but I have now been out there like 15 times. Everything on the menu is good) followed by coffee at a nearby café. It was a nice night so we decided to sit outside. Within minutes, a homeless man came up and started making conversation. Conversation that lasted 10 minutes until I finally decided to give him some money just to go away. Big mistake. He went away, but only to tell his friends around the corner that some chump was giving out money. Within minutes, we were swarmed by the entire homeless population of Hartford. At this point, we decide to move to the sanctity of a nearby bar where I finished my pint long before he did.

Math Boy – This date started bad from the beginning. My sister had come over to help me pick out an outfit and we ended up chatting for longer then expected. So when he came to pick me up, she was still there. I didn’t want the poor guy to have to meet a family member right off the bat, so we had to sneak her out before he saw her. Not the best start. From there, we went to a really nice dinner where he almost got into a fight with a giant man in the parking lot who almost hit his car. Halfway through dinner, I had some “issues.” My eggplant was not agreeing with me and I had to excuse myself. Now normally, I would not relate the details of such an issue. However, the comedic value of the situation trumps my own embarrassment but I’ll spare you the details. Following that, we went back to my place to watch a movie (The Karate Kid, he picked it) where I actually pulled a muscle in my shoulder trying to lean away from him as he leaned in to make a move.

Sub Boy - I can’t even count last night as a date, but I drove 45 minutes to meet up with this guy. He brought friends, I brought friends. Let’s just say, I ended up signing karaoke with Paluko (Bon Jovi) just to prove that I wasn’t a wet blanket (he was)

I am starting to think it may be me.

Too tired...

After a LONG and tiring trip this past weekend, I am in no condition to try to formulate any type of cohesive thoughts at the moment. A word of advice...don't travel to Cali for a long weekend. It really messes with you. I'll rehash the weekend shortly. But for now, it is back to bed for McDougall.

Peace.

Ladies of Leisure

I am sad to say that I did not win Powerball last night. I didn't want to win to become the next feature on "The Fabulous Life of..." or to spend a small fortune on a castle or a McLaren F1. I wanted to win so I could become a lady of leisure.

It is a well documented fact that I hate my job, as most people do. One of my favorite quotes is from Drew Carey "Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."

My sister Eboogie (name has been changed to protect the innocent) and I are currently discussing this very topic as neither of us is working today. I have the day off because I am leaving for San Francisco tomorrow and she has it off because she is pretending to being sick.

Today, I have time to do all those things we never have time to do. I got up at 8, ate breakfast and watched reruns of Saved by the Bell and Dawson's Creek. At 10, I decided to hit the gym. Then Eboogie invited me over for some girl chat and Hershey's with Almonds. My kind of morning.

I have to do some errands to get ready for my trip: shopping, pick up my prescription, laundry...the usual. I have a couple of "adult" calls to make about insurance and other such boring things. But other then that, the most important decision I have to make today is where to eat lunch.

When I am not working, I am way more relaxed and way less of a crabby bitch. I feel that this benefits more then just myself, so point of fact: me being a lady of leisure really helps us all. There is no stress factor, no worries. It's all good.

I don't have to be back in the office until Wednesday, so I will continue to have a good time until then. And hopefully Eboogie's fake disease gets worse so she doesn't have to go back either. Until then, it's off to lunch.

Crossing the Picket Line

I am sad to say that I fell off the wagon. I broke the picket line...I am officially a scrub. As the daughter of the former President of Teamsters Local CENSORED, I am deeply ashamed of myself. Despite years of protest, this morning I set foot inside the United States Post Office.

While there is no excuse for my behavior, I feel I must defend myself as best as possible. The reason for my extreme betrayal? I was being blackmailed.

When I went to get my mail yesterday, there was a sinister little orange card stuffed in with the usual junk. It read, "WE HAVE YOUR PACKAGE. IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN, YOU WILL COME PICK IT UP AT THE NEWINGTON POST OFFICE TOMORROW AT 8:00 AM. ALONE."

The contents of this package were too valuable for me to ignore. I had to break my boycott. They had me.

I set my alarm an hour early, knowing what was in store for me at the vile PO. For a non-morning person like myself, this was torture. My plan was simple: get to the PO right when it opened so as to avoid any unnecessary delays in the ransom exchange.

I walked in the door at 8:05 am (dodging the rotten fruit being thrown at my head by other angry picketers), orange note in hand, ready to make the exchange. Once inside, I was reminded of why I hate the PO. 10 people in line, 1 teller, all of them clutching their orange cards. I hadn't realized that I wasn't the only being victimized by this institution. There were others like me forced to partake.

The details of what went on inside that building this morning are too traumatic to relate. Thankfully, at 8:30 am. I walked out clutching my package dearly.

I feel like a fraud. My head has been bowed in shame all day at the fact that those bastards got the better of me. Tomorrow, after this is a faint memory, I will be back on my soapbox. They will not win. Down with the post office!

But now I have my Halloween costume!

I HATE RAIN

I did not move to Seattle. I need sunlight! This blows. That's all I have to say.

My Personal Ad

Modest SHC seeks tall, dark, handsome non-metrosexual man to enjoy romantic evenings watching The Karate Kid and listening to Bon Jovi. Must be non smoker, non golfer, and non idiot who loves football, poker, boxing and traveling. Said individual will act like a real man which includes (but is not limited to) no waxing, blow drying, manicures, pedicures or any other form of grooming typically reserved for girls.

He will also allow me to explore my shoe BPI to its full potential while passing no judgment whatsoever. Bonus: a job, not living in your parent's basement and having your 21st birthday at least 5 years ago. Any man with NMF need not respond. However if you do have NMF and are adverse to wearing sandals, we can talk. Please respond before February or I am doomed to share a cabin on a cruise to Mexico with my parents.

Thank you.

Key:
(SHC) - single hot chick
(BPI) - buying power index
(NMF) - nasty man feet

The Magic Cure

I have always been a believer in the healing power of the Fountain Soda. It cures all and fixes anything. When you take a sip of your favorite flavored Fountain Soda (mine is Diet Coke) all your troubles, sickness and any other ailments just seem to melt away.

I was first introduced to the wonder that is the Fountain Soda by my friend the Midge. When we were in 7th grade, we used to ride our bikes to 7-11 to get Big Gulps almost every day over the summer. My mother never kept soda in the house growing up so this was a treat.

While the Fountain Soda can fix most anything, it's primary use is to help get rid of the devastation caused by the hangover. I have yet to have a hangover that the Fountain Soda cannot help. In may not get rid of it totally, but it can make it more bearable.

In recent years I have come to the conclusion that the Fountain Soda cannot act alone. While it is key in speeding up your recovery time, it is not quite potent enough to cure the hangover all on its own. The power lies in the combination of the Fountain Soda and drumroll......the Wendy's Junior Bacon Cheeseburger (JBC).

This little cheeseburger not only tastes good and it a very good value (still $0.99 in some places but $1.19 most everywhere else) It can do anything. The combo has never failed me. Some people substitute the JBC for the McDonald's cheeseburger. That can work too, but I will stand by my JBC.

This weekend, I stumbled upon something so momentous that I am still hard pressed to believe it myself. The power of the JBC and Fountain Soda combo is not reserved solely for post hangover, it can work as a preemptive strike to PREVENT hangovers. Yes, you heard me right. The JBC has a 24 hour window.

My friends and I went shopping on Sunday morning before heading up to Popstar's to celebrate her birthday. We decided to stop at Wendy's for lunch where I had, surprise, the JBC and a Diet Coke.

Around midnight, I looked around and realized that 3 of the 4 of us girls who were drinking had been cut off. I was the only one who had not been (other then the two DD's who I don't count) Despite drinking copious amounts of beer and shots, I still had all my wits about me.

This didn't make sense. I should have been a stumbling drunk like my cohorts. I was acting like a responsible adult instead of the blubbering or table dancing drunk I usually am. When I woke up the next morning, I didn't have the slightest hangover. No spins, no headache...nothing.

The only logical conclusion I could come to was that the JBC had worked it's magic before I started drinking. And not only had it prevented me for feeling sick the next day, it also protected me from making an ass out of myself which is always a good thing.

This is an exciting new discovery that I felt I couldn't keep to myself so I am sending it out to the masses. What you do with this information is up to you.

NOTE: I do not work for Wendy's in any capacity nor am I paid to endorse their products. I am just a satisfied customer.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Everyone else has said all that needs to be said about fall so I am not going to reiterate it. Mr. Jingle was very eloquent in his description and I have to echo everyone else's statement...fall is the best season.

There was one thing I thought was noticeably absent from all of the other postings about fall. Yes, I love apple picking, cider doughnuts, the changing leaves and the smell of a wood burning stove. However, mostly I am just READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL.

Football is my favorite sport. I watch it all from Pop Warner (where the Newington Knights are the current national champs in the 12-14 division...take that Texas!) to college and pro. I used to actually go to watch UCONN football games by myself on Saturday mornings when I was up a Storrs and they were still Division AA. It was like $2 for 4 hours of enjoyment.

My favorite team in the NY Giants. Love them. Have since LT was on the roids and Phil Simms was the man. It was cool back in the 80's when they were actually good but the last decade or so has been crap.

I have sat through years of watching bad QB 's like Dave Brown and Kerry Collins who could only throw a completion when he was drunk. Then he went and got sober...damn bastard. For years, I could only cheer when the defense scored because God knows the offense was never going to get their butts in gear. I've gone to the Giants training camp the last 3 years in a row up in Albany to root them on (followed by an afternoon detour to Saratoga to bet on the horses. Good times!)

I may be getting a little ahead of myself but I am ecstatic with a 3-1 season start. It means our season isn't over after game 2. I love that when I watch Sportscenter, the Giants make the highlight reel instead of being shown as the team who got beat. I love that I have a guy on my team named Plaxico that can catch. I love Sunday and I love football.

And that is what I love about fall. I can sit on my couch wearing my Strahan jersey, sipping apple cider, eating cider doughnuts, looking at the foliage and watching my Giants. That's what it is all about.

My Ass Hurts

I wish I had something really interesting to write about, but the fact is that I can only think about one thing: the fact that my ass is killing me.

I got my stability ball in the mail on Monday and I was so excited. I had been waiting for it to come for several weeks now. It was going to be something new and fun to add to my currently boring workout regime.

We had family dinner on Monday night and I couldn't blow that off to run home after work and work out. My family would have thought I was nuts. So I ate really fast so that I could spend some quality time with the ball before Prison Break started and I entered the TV coma for the night.

I did the 20 minute intro video but was having so much fun that I decided that wasn't enough and ended up spending nearly 2 hours on the ball. I know, get a life right?

Yesterday, I was feeling it a little but decided they only way to get rid of the pain was to go running. I figured that would get the blood flowing again and help stretch out the muscles. The problem was that I forgot that the 2nd day is always worse then the first.

So today, I am hurting. Bad. I grimace or yelp, depending on who is in earshot, every time I get out of my chair. And I am walking around like I took a giant crap in my pants. Not too cute.

But I am sure I will go home tonight and try it out again. I will not let the ball get the better of me regardless of whether or not I can walk tomorrow. That just means it is working. I may just have to invest in an inflatable doughnut for my chair until the day when I can get the better of the ball.

Do blondes really have more fun?

I enjoy changing my hair. Sometimes I do it out of boredom, sometimes it depends on my mood. Other times I do it solely to change my appearance, which usually stems from boredom or my mood. I am not girly about it, I could care less. I go to the hairdresser and tell her do pretty much do what she wants to it. As long as she doesn't give me a mullet, we're cool.

I have the great "Hair Color" debate about every 3 months or so. That's when I get restless and feel the need for a change. I currently have the itch mostly because the roots have grown in and look bad. This is a style I will never get behind. Now I either need to get them touched up or change the color all together.

So it has begun. I figured I was the only player in the debate (which means I am debating myself I guess...I do that quite often) but I was mistaken. This never ceases to cause an uproar among my family and friends. You would think they would be used to it by now.

I find it funny that other people care about what I do to my hair. It's growing out of my head and I am the one who is going to look like an ass if it comes out bad. The first time I dyed it really dark was last December. My mother's actual comment was "Are you doing this to get back at me for something?" I am a good kid. I don't do drugs, smoke, join cults or engage in any freaky sex acts. If the worst thing I do to get back at my mother is dye my own hair, shouldn't she consider herself lucky? And why would I use my head to get back at her?

Anyway, I have to come to a decision soon as I do not find that the Amanda Woodward look works for me. I find that I have had just as much fun as a brunette that I do when I am a blonde so I guess in the long run it doesn't really matter. It is all just in good fun.

Nothing to fear but fear itself

Since Halloween is coming up, I thought I'd write about some things that scare me. I hope this doesn't incite any rage or cause a negative backlash among those of you who get upset about talking up the holidays too early. I figured since it was October, I was safe.

I am a wuss...I'll be the first to admit it. Fear can be a very debilitating emotion. I am afraid of almost everything. Some rational, some not so rational but still scary nonetheless.

The fear at the forefront lately has been dogs. Now I know they are supposed to be warm, loving and cuddly but I see them as vicious beasts who exist solely to torture me. I am terrified of them. Big dogs, little dogs, nice or mean...it doesn't matter. I do not provoke them, taunt or tease them. I just try to keep my distance. I had multiple bad experiences with dogs as a child and have not been able to overcome this fear. They cause me to freeze up completely and have a major case of anxiety.

Last night I was confronted by the mother of all beasts. Big is an understatement. This dog was the dog from The NeverEnding Story. She outweighed me by about 50 pounds. So basically, I freaked. This angered Cujo, who jumped on me and barked in my face, and proceeded to make me cry.

Other random fears...falling off of a bridge, public speaking, the dentist and the fact that pictures like this exist of me...

and I was sober.