What a doll!

Dark Helmet: Did you see anything?
Colonel Sandurz: No sir! I didn't see you playing with your dolls again.

Meet Bob and Ann, they don't like their jobs either. Thank you Target for breaking free from the Barbie trend and making a toy even adults can appreciate.
http://www.target.com/gp/detail.html/ref=br_1_1/601-2193353-7500133?%5Fencoding=UTF8&frombrowse=1&asin=B0007R66LS

Caffeinated Ambush

This morning marked another benchmark in my long-running tradition of social ineptitude.

As I was pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store where I buy my daily caffeine fix, I noticed a girl in a bright pink shirt making her way towards the entrance of the store. At first glance I thought nothing of it, but upon a second look I saw (to my absolute horror) that the girl was in fact Chatty Batty, one of THE most annoying girls from my high school.

Clearly, I couldn’t just leave without my coffee, but I also didn’t want her to see me and risk getting stuck in a lengthy conversation about her accomplishments and blossoming relationship with a law student she met in college. SO, being the mature, quick- thinking girl that I am, I hid. That’s right, I hid. I quickly ducked into the chips and dip aisle, with my face pressed closely to a bag of pork rinds while my eyes stayed glued to the security mirror above.

Patiently, I bided my time until Chatty moved away from the coffee dispensers and cream and sugar station-this of course was not until after she had a short talk with the bakery staff about her favorite types of cream filling and how her boyfriend got her a bagel the other morning.

Another conversational catastrophe avoided.


(I couldn't find any photos of an adult hiding behind snack foods....so, you will just have to use your imagination on this one.)

R.I.P., T.T.T.

Yesterday, I received some very bad news.

Apparently, Tony the Temp has accepted a new job working as the morgue supervisor for the Milwaukee Archdiocese.

Having made no attempts to meet Tony, or talk to him for that matter, I can’t really say that this move surprises or saddens me; however, I am sure he will be missed….by someone here at the office.

Morning discomfort...and online shopping

Today, while making my daily early morning coffee run I accidentally reached for the 20 oz coffee cup rather than the 16 oz to which I have become accustomed. ….and I have been paying the awful price for my mistake ever since.

In the meanwhile, I found these cute earrings on Target.com.....

Get it....it's little pitchers of beer......on earrings!!!

They also have little Cosmos, little Appletinis, and little champagnes in case the whole pitcher thing is not your bag.





http://www.target.com/gp/browse.html/601-2193353-7500133?page=2&index=tgt%2dmf%2dmv&field%2dbrowse=13759511&size=16&rank=%2bpmrank&node=13759511

Milwaukee Madness

As weekends go, this one was pretty wild and fiscally draining.

Friday night I met Lance Friendly and some of his friends for a round of drinks at Milwaukee’s premiere Irish bar, Paddy’s. Then I headed over to Red Light to hang with Moody St. Clair, Security Steve and a large contingent of my good-looking guy friends for some cocktails and conversations before high tailing it over to Mad Planet where we literally danced until we dropped.

Saturday morning got off to a slow start as I struggled to pull the pieces together from the night before. After a hearty breakfast, I headed over to Mayfair Mall to pick up some essentials….$300+ and 5 hours later, I drove home to prepare for the evenings fun.


It all began so innocently……

Flower Power and I decided we would go to dinner at the Pasta Tree and then hang out in McGillycuddy's beer garden for some delicious refreshments under the stars. Just as we were finishing off our first round of drinks, two good looking guys approached us and asked if they could sit at the table next to ours. We agreed, and no sooner had they sat down, that their table was pulled up next to ours and we got their whole story.

Hailing from Michigan, they were part of a 12-person bachelor party in town for the weekend, and while they were enjoying themselves, the guy who had arranged the party had not done any research about Milwaukee’s nightlife offerings and they really didn’t have a plan for what they were going to do. At one point, I went to the bathroom, and when I returned I saw Flower Power sitting at our table with not two, but 12 additional guys and several pitchers of beer.

After finishing the pitchers the guys decided to move on to other bars, so we said our goodbyes and left them to their own devices. Flower and I decided that might be the perfect time for us to leave as well, so we exited the bar and ran right into two of the bachelor party-attendees who were chowing down on some good-old fashioned Milwaukee brats. Apparently, they had ill-advisedly gone into this terrible bar next door and were now taking a short break for a snack before trying to decide where they wanted to go next.


It was then that they invited us to join their ranks and guide them for the rest of the evening. We accepted and here is a brief recap of what followed:

1. I somehow managed to touch 6 out of 12 guys’ eyeballs.

2. I engaged in a lengthy argument with the bachelor about whether or not my black stilettos looked like a witch’s shoes.

3. After years of speculation I learned first hand that Art’s Performance Center is INDEED a strip club, they do not charge ladies a cover charge to get in, you cannot bring in drinks from a neighboring bar (thanks Flower for testing their resolve on that one), and the strippers there have the energy level of a Slinky on a sidewalk.

4. While two of the guys and I decided to leave Art’s and spend some time at the nearby bar The Harp, Flower Power insisted on staying behind. This may or may not have been the greatest of ideas, but she insisted and almost immediately after the guys and I sat down, Flower called in hopes of finding me. Somehow within the 10 minutes that we were apart she had followed the rest of the bachelor party to a bar on the other side of Water Street…and somewhere along the way she also lost her shoes. (She would later remember that she had cut them off, because in her words, she would rather be barefoot)

Not realizing how far gone she was, I asked her to come to The Harp and call me when she was outside. When I left the bar to meet her, I immediately saw her across the street engaged in a deep(ly slurred) conversation with some skeezy dude in a powder blue spandex shirt. I quickly pushed him away and we started back towards my apartment. Half way there Flower decided she needed to “give something back to the sidewalk,” and while she was doing that, I waited nearby keeping an eye out for the police and adamantly discouraging these two weirdos who kept cruising by and asking us where our boyfriends were.

Luckily we made it back to my place and passed out.

Now I am back in the office, remembering that I gave my number to one of the guys and wishing to God I remembered what he looked like.

The $560 Question.

Alright people, I need your help and I need it fast. I am itching, that's right, ITCHING to own this bag. Should I get it? You decide! (Although, if I don't like your answer, I may buy it anyway.)

Should I buy this bag?
	Yes
	No

Placing blame.

Don't you point that finger at me Brad Pitt.

Not unless you don't want to get it back.

This is looking really good...

Now, just image you're weightless. You're in the middle of the ocean...
surrounded by tiny little sea horses.

And I thought MY mom was strict.

CATastrophe

Yesterday, after a long, but not so hard day’s work, I was flipping through the channels on TV when I stumbled upon Halle Berry’s Catwoman on one of the movie channels.

Having heard by practically every media outlet there is (and my grandmother) that this was basically one of (if not THE) the biggest cinematic failures of 2004, my first instinct was to just ignore it and watch 'Friends' on TBS. However, following an impulse, I decided to give the saucy Oscar-winner the benefit of the doubt and find out for myself if the movie was really THAT bad-having said that, I have to tell you that it really, REALLY is.

Whenever I see a movie like Catwoman, starring someone as beautiful and talented as Ms. Berry, I immediately ask myself, who the hell advised her that movies like these are good idea? She won an Oscar for God’s sake-don’t you think they could have come up with something a little better than this!?

After years of performing in crap movies like B*A*P*S, Swordfish, and The Flintstones, it was like Halle had finally arrived! While I understand the appeal of portraying a famous comic hero, I can’t imagine her reading that script and thinking, ‘Wow, I’ve hit paydirt.’ Admittedly though, she would have been right about the ‘dirt’ portion of that statement.

Anyway, in case you were thinking of watching Catwoman, I would urge you to instead spend that time flossing or better yet, checking for irregular moles. You’ll certainly have more fun.

Compliments of Canada

Recently I met a Canadian who said "To know Little Miss Westchester, is to love her."

Now you might think he is full of it, but I choose to believe that he is really on to something here.

A sense of foreboding.

On my drive to work today, I somehow managed to get stuck behind a large tractor truck transporting what seemed to be a small fleet of port-o-pottys. There I remained all the way to the office. Talk about foreshadowing.

Public Service Announcement

Seniors,

As you are preparing for your last year in high school I feel it is my job nay, my duty to warn you about the hidden dangers lurking in the school year ahead. No I am not talking about peer pressure or the drugs you may be offered. Instead, I want to make you aware of a much more subversive problem plaguing America's youth. Something you may not have even considered. Specifically, the terrible things that can happen to you if you choose to put a really lame-ass senior picture of yourself in your school's annual yearbook.

Sadly, in an attempt to immortalize themselves as someone that could have been cool, many young men fall into this trap and then regret it for ETERNITY. And often times, what starts out as a brazen attempt to get chicks quickly becomes a national exhibit of bad taste and excess.

You might be wondering, who would do such a thing to you. Well, like most things in life, it will probably be someone you know(and maybe even liked) who will simply scan the yearbook page containing your picture; and then, after digitally enlarging the portrait, they will attach it to an e-mail and then send it out to absolutely everyone in their address book with the words "Worst Senior Picture EVER" in the subject line.

A picture that would qualify for this ridicule might look a little something like THIS:


(Photo courtesy of M. "F**king" E.)

You have been warned.

Sincerely,

Little Miss Westchester

What lies beneath.

Some might say that over the years I have managed to rack up a few neuroses and fears; and, while some are more prominent than others, they all seem to blend together in the symphony that is my personality.

At the forefront of this is my fear of the dark and the monsters therein.

I mention this because for the next week or so, I am staying with my younger brother at my folks’ place; and, it is really hard to be the brave disciplinarian in a house that (for the past 20 years) I have truly believed to be haunted.

To be fair, I do have a VERY active imagination, and any evidence of a haunting has been dishearteningly nonexistent. However, just because there is technically no proof of any supernatural activity, it doesn’t mean that maybe, possibly, sometime in the future, there couldn’t be one; and, in the case that a haunting should occur, I want to make sure that I am awake and ready to run away.

Because I have had troubles falling asleep in the past, as an adult, I have taken several proactive steps to thwart my imagination from creating a monster/vampire under my bed. Specifically, even if I have a very happy and carefree day, I have to know that these fears could still manifest themselves in my mind right before I turn off the lights, so, in an effort to maintain happy thoughts, I have taken to watching the WB’s comedy programming before going to sleep each night.

I figure this way, rather than thinking of the Alien/Predator behind the full-length mirror, I can envision myself as the seventh Friend, or the plucky next-door neighbor on Everybody Loves Raymond.

Luckily, this plan normally works like clockwork. Recently however, things are not going as planned and the WB has been airing commercials between comedy sitcoms for this terrifying horror film about a girl who gets possessed by the Devil and some promos for a show that prominently features scary ghosts and mean spirits.

Being a person of habit, simply changing the channel is not an option here. So I am forced to either turn off the TV for practically every commercial break, or, (if I accidentally see even a moment of one of these scary commercials), I have to keep watching shows until I calm down and forget about what I saw during the previous commercial break while at the same time avoiding the scary images in the following breaks.

This, I realize, is not normal.

High and Low points of my vacation.

After a small scare this morning when the alarm clock on my cell phone (still programmed to reflect Eastern Standard Time) incorrectly displayed that I had 20 minutes to get ready for work, I made it into the office feeling completely disenchanted and ready to head back to the beach.

Not to dwell on my vacation, but as promised here are some of the highlights of my trip:

1. My mother explaining that this recently married older couple we know probably never had “hot kid sex” (her words, not mine), but instead partake in the more mature “adult sex.” This, of course was her response to my seemingly innocent question, “Mom, do you think Sarah and Sam are attracted to one another?”

2. I saw a woman with a picture of Sinead O’Connor’s face permanently tattooed on her stomach….I stopped to ask her about it and basically the exchange went as followed:
Me: What is that a tattoo of?
Her: The biggest mistake of my life.
My Mom: Oh, Little Miss Westchester thought it might be your son!
Her: No, its Sinead O’Connor, and yes, I regret getting it every day of my life.

3. Listening to my Grandma talk about the navy blue knee high stockings she had wanted to buy at Walgreen’s.

Over all, the whole trip was lovely and I wish I was still there.

Sunrise, sunset...on my vacation.

Back from my week-long trip to Cape Cod, I can finally get back to the things that matter most in my every day life...and while I am waiting to do those things, I will update this blog.

Overall, the whole vacation was wonderful, relaxing, and no, I am not happy to be back.

As if it weren't bad enough that I am a working stiff and thus had to cut the whole trip one week short, to add insult to injury, I now have to spend the rest of this week babysitting my younger brother while my parents continue to enjoy the sun and surf.

And as a preview of what lies in store for me, no sooner had we walked in the door that he was on the phone with his girlfriend. I tried to get out of there ASAP, but I was unable to avoid the part of their conversation where they each took turns frantically retracing the exact and extensive details of their days spent apart.

Ah young love...yawn.

I will tell you all about the trip later, including everything from my personal struggle attempting to engage in small talk to the beautiful sunsets and painfully fresh seafood.

In the meanwhile, here are some snap shots from the vaca........


A view of our private beach.















A sunset over the ocean.












The Village People and John Kerry....

I didn't actually see them, but I thought it might be fun to spice up this photo album with some ubiquitous shots of colorful celebrities.

Now it's time to say goodbye....

Dear Friends/my six loyal readers,

As you may or may not know, I will be on vacation for the next week. So until then, here is a selection of some of my favorite time wasting websites:

http://danasdirt.blogspot.com/
http://www.runjenrun.com/
http://www.gawker.com/
http://www.defamer.com/
www.imdb.com

Check back on August 22nd for some exciting, if not harrowing updates on my vacation and find out what happens when a seemingly normal working girl is forced to spend an entire week with her family. In the meantime, try not to miss me!

Best,

Little Miss Westchester

Keeping my seat in an upright position.

Not too long ago, when I was VERY drunk, I agreed to go on a date with this guy whose teeth bore a disturbing resemblance to corn...or Chicklets maybe. "Male Flight Attendant Kurt"(as he came to be known) was, as you may have guessed, a professional flight attendant with a penchant for Poison cover bands and a wardrobe consisting entirely of white washed jeans and No Fear t-shirts.

Shudder.

I am not sure why I felt the need to share that, maybe as a means of cleansing the experience from my memory or maybe because I am terrified I will run into him in the airport tonight.

The Perfect Man

Britney is SO lucky! Man, I wish Kev Fed was my baby daddy.

Mommy dearest

Recently, I interviewed for another position within my company, and, upon hearing I would get a second interview, I immediately called my parents to let them know the great news.

They were very supportive and we all talked about the possibilities that this new role might bring.

Several days passed, and I again called my parents, this time with the hopes of talking with my dad about ways of handling salary negotiations. My mom picked up the phone and after we said our hellos she not-so-subtly brought up a concern she had with my possible new job.

“Little Miss Westchester,” she said, “I was thinking (I should have known at that point that I was in trouble), with this new job you will have to work a lot longer hours and I just want you to make sure that you are going to make an extra effort to keep going to the gym.”

After an awkward pause, I replied, “Mom, could you please put Dad on the phone.”

InCOINceivable

As far as I am concerned, the inception of the new Wisconsin state quarter marks yet another chapter in our long and awkward run as one of the nation's most uncool states.

How to be liked in the workplace.

It's point #3 that keeps me out of the running almost every time.

http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/Careers/08/10/popular/index.html

Oops she did it again.

So remember a few days ago when I posted that picture of Sean "Baggins" Austin in a speedo.....

Well the celebrity swimsuit craze has gotten worse, if that's possible.

Oh Britney.

The joys of new neighbors

URGENT UPDATE:

The girl at the cubicle across from my new cube has a sty in her eye.

But don’t worry, it is something anyone can get, and it is curable.

A visit from Zip Smiley

Last night, for the first time in over a year, my old high school chum Zip Smiley was visiting from Tennessee. Currently, he is working there as a television weatherman, so it was great to catch up and talk about his life as a sex symbol. Together Zip, Hope Valentine, and my other high school friends Tulip Johnson and Sunshine Smith decided to have a reunion get together at the Wisconsin State Fair.

I had never before been to the fair, and now I see why. At the Wisconsin Fair, food like cheese curds and cream puffs are dietary staples, while mullets and wife beaters are the height of fashion. In fact, the only reason I broke from my previously successful run at avoiding the fair was because Willy Porter was playing at one of the free stages and Zip is a HUGE fan.

Personally, I was unimpressed. I had never heard Willy live; however, I was immediately bored with the play list. Apparently, I was not alone in my boredom, so Tulip and I decided to take an extensive walk around the park to burn some time while Hope, Zip, and Sunshine watched the show.

Finally, after about an hour of ‘jamming,’ Willy played his big hit (the only song of his that I know) entitled “Watercolor Sunrise. “ In the past, I remember liking the tune because admittedly, it is catchy and filled with romantically sweet notions; but last night (and apparently for the first time) I really listened to the lyrics and was officially disenchanted.

The chorus goes something like this: “I can HEAR the ocean, when I LOOK into your eyes.”

What does that even mean? I mean really.

The new guy.

There is a new guy in the office.

Is he good looking? No. Does he make me feel uncomfortable? Yes.

Today is his first day, and already I am wishing for a department move. Luckily my new cube will be NO where near his; however, I am still uneasy now that he is around.

First of all, he giggles…..at everything. When I met him earlier today, he giggled at everything I said. Perhaps this was a nervous tick, or maybe he is just insane. Either way, I was glad when he walked away.

Secondly, he is a loomer. Much like our resident temp, who is now a full time employee, he is a large, hulk of a man who towers above me-and like said temp, he is also a starer as well.

I can tell I am in for a treat. Two loomer/starers working within the same air space. Is it just me, or do we have the sincere potential for a nail biting Lifetime movie of the week here?

Laugh Factor

I received this from my friend and coworker Peaches Wilson....it is hilarious. When you have about 10 minutes, check it out-although I would advise using the restroom before watching the video.

http://seanism.com/dlarea/pafiledb.php?action=watch&id=43

Saving lives, one whistle blow at a time.

Ok, I know this is just gross-but I couldn't resist.

Not Frodo, but definitely Baggins.

Delusions of Grandeur

I am writing a letter to Jennifer Aniston. I want to let her know that I am a fan and I support her in her divorce proceedings-while at the same time sounding like a really cool person that she might want to become friends with.

In an ideal world she would be so moved by my letter that she would give me a call and we would chat for hours about this and that quickly becoming the best of friends. Then, after several months of this, she would offer to fly me out to visit her on one of her movie sets.

Once on set, the director would be so taken with my beauty that I would be cast in a supporting role-thus leaving J.Lo once again out of a job. From this experience I would be greatly inspired to finally write an amazing and entertaining book, which-after becoming an international bestseller, would be turned into a movie-starring none other than Jennifer Aniston!

Maybe then I could finally afford all of the designer purses I have been eying online all these months.

Eh, who am I kidding, I will never write that letter.

Telephonic Invasion

I have a coworker, who we’ll call “Coworker L.” She is a very sweet girl; however, like most things at this office, I would be remiss is saying her office skills are up to what most would consider…normal. Specifically, she has a VERY loud phone voice; and, because her role at the company requires her to negotiate with business partners from around the world, she spends most of the day yelling something into the phone.

This in itself annoys me. But, like most things, there’s more to this little telephonic disaster.

As if it weren’t bad enough that I can here every word of her side of her phone conversations, I have noticed a disturbing trend in their content that can no longer go ignored by this blog. In attempts to charm her clients, Coworker L takes on what can only be described as “other” voices when speaking to people on the phone.

For example, sometimes her voice becomes extremely loud and squeaky. Other times she will laugh out loud in a booming voice that fills the department. And then there are the times, like today, when she speaks with an affected accent-that to the best of my knowledge, sounds like a person suffering from severe mental retardation.

Now, I don’t mean to be critical here, or (God forbid) step on the toes of political correctness, but what POSSIBLE gain can come from your clients believing you to be mentally retarded? Perhaps I am off base, but if I was a client coming to my company in hopes of striking a major deal, and a person answered the phone sounding like they possessed what would equate to a third grade intellect, I might have pause.

Just a thought.

Maybe a cubicle move won’t be the worst thing after all.

Preach on Sister Sledge

http://www.drudgereport.com/flash3.htm

Team Aniston.

While Vanity Fair did not end up using the quotes that I gave them for their show stopping interview with Rachel Green, uh, I mean Jennifer Aniston, I would like the record to show that I think she is fabulous, I love her work, and I think that Brad Pitt is a, how should I say this....a butt head.

Daisy Don'ts

Earlier today I received an e-mail from one of the higher-ups. The content of which was essentially a reminder of the company’s dress code, and a note that employees are not allowed to wear sleeveless tops.

Anyway, no sooner had I read that little gem that another- even LESS welcomed e-mail arrived as well. Since I immediately deleted it, I will have to recite the contents from memory. However, before I begin, I would like to paint a picture of the sender: At around 5’4”, “Coworker S” probably weighs around 250, has bulging red eyes, wears tight man clothes, sports a botched buzz cut, and to top it all off, has never been very nice to me. Mainly she just glares when I pass her cubicle, or excludes me from e-mails regarding departmental pot lucks. As a result, I have always just avoided her-because frankly, she scares me.

Despite her behavior towards me, I do think that she views herself as something of a department clown, and is always making (quote) jokes (unquote) during department meetings and at company parties. As a result, her e-mail today didn’t shock me that much, although it did made me vomit a little in my mouth.

Read on to experience a best-guess recreation of the infamous e-mails:

_____________________________________________________________
From: Coworker S
Sent: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 10:53 AM
To: Entire Department
Subject: RE: Dress Code-Sleeveless

“There goes my halter top and daisy dukes… hahaha – that is funny by itself!”
_____________________________________________________________
From: Supervisor
Sent: Wednesday, August 03, 2005 10:52 AM
To: Entire Department
Subject: Dress Code - SleevelessImportance: High

Team –

I know it’s hot outside, but company policy does not allow us to wear sleeveless shirts in the office without a jacket or sweater over the top of your shirt. Please keep that in mind and make sure that your sleeves are covered at all times when you are in the building.

Thanks!!
___________________________________________________________________


No Coworker S, that’s not funny, and please don’t contact me again.

Speaking of comedians.

For some reason, my favorite comedians never come to Milwaukee.

But, should they come to a comedy club near you, please be sure and check them out.

My favorite comedians (in no particular order) are as follows:

1. Mike Birbiglia (http://www.birbigs.com/)
2. Drew Hastings (www.drewhastings.com)
3. Nick Griffin
4. Rob Little (http://www.roblittle.com/)
5. Chick McGee (http://www.bobandtom.com/gen3/chick_audio.htm)

If anyone knows of any kick ass female comedians(besides yours truly), I would LOVE to hear about them!

Puss in Boots

Don't even THINK about calling this cat a pussy!



I guess these boot really are made for walkin' afterall.













(Photo courtesy of one of my favorite comedian's website: http://www.birbigs.com/)

Vending conversation.

Every morning, long before I arrive at the office, a portly gentleman (who, for the purpose of this posterity, we will call “Bob,”) arrives at my company to stock every one of our many vending machines; and, every day as I roll in (anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes late), he is there stocking the vending machines in my lunchroom.

A friendly enough fellow, Bob is always smiling or humming-always eager to chat with anyone he might see. As a result, I immediately feel awkward and uncomfortable whenever I am in the same room as him.

If there are other people in the lunchroom when I arrive, I simply keep my head down, throw my lunch bag into the community fridge, and then run for the door; however, if it is just the two of us-a brief exchange will inevitably ensue. Unlike normal people who might welcome a friendly conversation with a relative stranger, I seem to tense up with fear. Accordingly, the content of our conversations is ALWAYS exactly the same.

Monday through Thursday our conversations proceeds as follows:

Me: GOOD morning.

Bob: Hi! How are you!

Me: Greeeat. But then, it’s still early!

Bob & Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAH!

On Fridays, however, the conversation goes like this:

Bob: Well hello there!

Me: GOOD morning.

Bob: How’s it going!

Me: Greeat, thank God it’s Friday!

Bob: You can SAY that again.

Bob & Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Today is Wednesday. Only two more days to go.

I am a shopaholic.

I have a shopping problem. One would like to think that admitting the problem is the first stop towards recovery...but then I shop some more and the cycle continue.

Exhibit A:

Frye Harness Boots, $178.95

Moon over Milwaukee.

This Friday I will make my big cube move from one end of the room to the other. On one hand I will no longer be subjected to “Coworker E’s” rantings about the fat content in cheese cake. On the other hand, I will be right next to me supervisor. On the third hand, I will be a little closer to this group of semi-cute guys working in one of the company’s marketing departments. But on the fourth hand (this is getting out of hand), those guys are obnoxious…..so I really hope they don’t come near me.

So there you have it.

Speaking of the weekend, on Friday night after wasting a few hours watching “Must Love Dogs” with my mother, I got a call from my pal Lance Friendly asking if I wanted to meet him at the Harp. So I gave Hope Valentine a call, and after taking a few tequila shots we started walking towards Water St. Usually, I would move the story along to later in the evening; however, this walk was to be unlike any I have ever taken before.

You see, as we walked along the road chatting and giggling like school girls, we could not know that there was a shocking and unforgettable surprise awaiting us by the Astor Hotel. No sooner had we crossed in front of the hotel’s front door that I noticed a strange-looking gentleman clad in black basketball shorts, a grey hooded sweatshirt and huge black sunglasses smiling at me from across the street. I tried to look away, but my eyes lingered just long enough to see him turn around, pull down his shorts, and starts bellowing, “Yoo hoo” towards us in some kind of a sick sing song voice.

Rather than scream (therein giving this perv his jollies), I quickly hissed to Hope “Whatever you do, don’t look over there, there is a weird guy mooning us and you don’t want to encourage him.” Being the reasonable lady she is, Hope complied and the strange marauder soon disappeared back into the shadows from whence he came.

This leads me to my next point. Why is it that its always the weirdos and circus freaks mooning me! Couldn’t it be a hot guy, just once! Needless to say, I spent the rest of the walk lamenting about how it all would have happened differently had I been carrying a b.b. gun. If nothing else, I could have scared the shit out of him, although….he did after all have his pants down, so it was probably better to leave well-enough alone.

Soon we arrived at Water Street where we met up with Lance and a bunch of his friends. From the Harp we went to the Terrace Bar….which sucks-and at that point the bars closed anyway so we went to an after party at one of Lance’s friend’s condos. After we arrived, the other girls and I launched in to an extensive conversation about skin care-which then turned into a Q&A session with the dermatologist who happened to be at the party. Good times.

Saturday came and went, as did Sunday, and now I am at work and wishing for a raise.



Mooning Reenactment:

Note: No pumpkins were harmed during the creation of this picture.