Hasselhoff you cad!

Watch at your own risk...


(Many thanks to Miss F. Early for sharing this delightfully mismanaged music video with me, and my 7 loyal readers.)

Wine and cheese, please!

As many of you (and by you, I mean the seven of you reading this blog, and that includes 1/2 of the people in this picture) may know, I spent this weekend in Chicago with all of my dear friends from college. Here is a snap shot from this year's wine and cheese party at Peppermint Patty's place.

And before you say anything, I know the flower in my hair was a little much-and subsequently I have made a mental note to stay away from this sort of thing in the future.

Set-up for disaster

When you are a single and fabulous, 20-something living in the city, there is a good chance that at one time or another one of your friends or (for the purpose of this post) coworkers, will get it into their heads that you would be a perfect match for their “really nice” guy friend with the great personality.

The conversation usual begins with some questions from your coworker about your plans for the evening and ends with some queries into your current dating status. Then, after you have unwittingly confirmed that you are indeed single, the coworker will pounce like a lion on the gazelle. In my experience however, these types of set-ups rarely work, because as well-meaning as your coworker was, they probably didn’t take the time to find out what you are really looking for in a guy or to establish any of your hard-line deal breakers. (For example, one of my major deal breakers would be someone who does not think I am funny or does not agree with me when I say that I am undeniably, ridiculously good-looking.)

Anyway, last night I went out with a coworker and her friends, only to find that one of the people she had invited was (surprise!!!) this guy she thought I would be perfect for. After sitting through his third Michael Jackson-dance impersonation, I knew it probably wasn’t going to work out.

During the scope of our (very brief) conversation, he managed to make as few as three references to women’s breasts before launching into a bizarre story about how, after college, he had saved the business cards from all of the companies that had not hired him. Then, without offering any explanation as to why he had done this, he paused….for what seemed like an eternity. So in an effort to save my sanity, I interjected a quick joke suggesting that (after he had achieved some moderate fame and fortune), he could use those old cards in a clever revenge scheme in partnership with the National Enquirer.

Now admittedly, this was not my best material; but hey, his idea of clever was doing jump kicks from the “Thriller” video in a fairly crowded bar. Either way, he did not think my suggestion was funny, and even went so far as to go off on a lengthy tangent about how he is a good person and good people do not revert to revenge schemes because that would “belittle who they as a person.”

Right dude.

Happy Birthday Peppermint Patty!

Today is Peppermint Patty’s 25th birthday! Very seldom am I willing to jump out of a cartoon cake for anyone, so I hope you all appreciate it-plus it was stiflingly hot in there.



This weekend in celebration of Patty’s grand birthday I will head south of the border, the Wisconsin border that is, to Chicago. There I will attend Patty’s annual wine/cheese/ (and this year) chocolate party, where madness is sure to ensue.

Last year, after almost 11 straight hours of drinking and post-collegiate photo ops, I snuggled into bed at around 6 in the morning. When I woke up the next day (still hung over) at 4 PM, I vaguely remembered having an unforgettable night- but due to some equally unforgettable morning-after effects, I made a commitment to myself to make some changes for next year’s party.

So, that being said, this year I promise to wear a watch so that I do not unwittingly stay out until sunrise. Also, if the party does migrate from Patty’s apartment to one of Chicago’s lively Greek Town bars, I will also promise to try VERY hard to avoid going up on stage to dance with the traditional Greek folk bands; however, if I do end up going up on stage, I promise to wear shoes with a good grip on the sole, so that I won’t end up slipping and falling loudly on my ass during one of my elaborate free-style numbers…like last year.

Wish me luck!

Note: for the small faction of my “seven loyal readers” that I will be seeing this weekend-maybe you should make some calls around town and warn the traditional Greek folk bands….you know, just in case.

Sometimes Little Miss Westchester can be "Insensitive"

There are a couple of things happening at my office right now that are really bothering me; and frankly, I can’t be silent about it any more.

1. First off, “Coworker D” is wearing a kerchief. A KERCHIF! For God’s sake, will someone tell that woman how to dress! She is 30-something, and we are in an office, not a dairy farm. Lord give me patience.

Kercheif Reenactment:

Note: No plactic showroom dummies were harmed during the course of this reenactment.

2. Also, despite the fact that I am not a smoker and I despise the smell of cigarettes, I do understand what it is to have an addiction and I am therefore sympathetic to the smoker’s plight. Be that as it may, there is a section of smokers in my department that all sit near one another; and as a result, that area of the room smells like an old ash tray. It is just gross-and I am seriously considering walking over there and dousing them with a bottle of Febreeze…would that be crossing some line of office etiquette? I will check the company handbook.

Anyway, I just needed to vent.

P.S. If anyone would be willing to come to my office and snatch that ugly rag off D’s head I would be willing to reward them dearly; not only with affectionate hugs, but also with my true admiration and a showing of unbridled glee.

2006 Bloggies off to a TERRIBLE start

The official nominees for the 2006 Bloggies have been announced and, unsurprisingly, I did not get recognized.

Having barely survived the brutalities of middle school, I am not unaccustomed to rejections of this variety; and as a result, I am happy to report that (until very recently), the suffering from this humiliation was bearably short lived. In fact, had I not checked the list of finalists, I may have remained blissfully ignorant of what I got passed over for; however, what's done is done, and I can now see that the voters of the world prefer THIS CRAP over the hysterically well-written and often times poetic musings of a one Little Miss Westchester.

Unforgivable voters of the world, UNFORGIVABLE!!!

Weekend Update

This weekend good friend Jazzy A, braved the cool winds of Park City for this year’s annual Sundance Film Festival. For a while there I had planned to go with her-but opted out when I received last month’s staggering credit card bill. That being said, I really wish I had gone, because not only did Jazzy get free swag at some of the parties, but she also came within clear punching distance of ho-torious Paris Hilton AND she saw Jennifer Aniston-a favorite of this site. (Note: To this reporter’s knowledge, close personal LMW friend and ABC Bachelorette, Jen Scheft was not in Park City for the festival).

Anyway, like Jazzy, I spent the weekend in very cold weather; however, unlike Jazzy, I was not surrounded by the Hollywood elite or by the infamous reality stars made famous by their overt eating disorders and/or widely-viewed home made porn tapes. On Friday, after a treacherous drive home through the year's first snow storm, I met some friends at Balzac (a new wine bar on Milwaukee’s Brady Street) for some conversation and, well, alchohol. Then on Saturday (after watching Wet Hot American Summer for the third time in six hours), Hope Valentine and I spent the evening drinking wine, giggling like school girls, and preparing for this week’s audit (well that was more Hope than me).

All in all not a bad weekend....but by no means Jazzy A's weekend.

Weekend Side by Side: Wisconsin VS. Park City and the Sundance Film Festival.

Little Miss Westchester and Jazzy A, who had the better weekend?

Don't judge

I just bought this:

Don't judge me.

Hey, it could have been SO much worse...and frankly, I think I showed a lot of restraint here.

Peppermint Patty and I discuss dating

Here is an expert from a recent IM conversation I had with my good friend Peppermint Patty. Delving into sensitive issues ranging from the search for love in a loveless world and home ownership, the topics of this conversation are not for the faint of heart.

--------------------------------------------
P.Patty: My friend Domzal thinks I should aspire to dating a homeless person. I'm glad that my oldest friend has that much confidence in me and my ability to attract men.

LMW: Wow-the homeless?

LMW: I don't know about that Patty. Although, to their credit, at least most homeless men own their own homes-they are cardboard homes, but homes none the less.

P.Patty: Well, that’s more than I have I guess....I’m glad that all my friends share in the same lofty goals for me... :-(

LMW: :-)

LMW: You know I don't want you dating a homeless person, I mean COME ON

P.Patty: Haha. Thanks, well, I think that it's not always a matter of want, but a matter of what you think I can get...

LMW: Well I think you are MUCH prettier than me for starters-so if you are dating the homeless-what does that leave for me?! Drug-addled transvestites?

Patty's new man

There is something to be said about taking the low road

I think most consumers would agree that it is hard to go anywhere without sexually suggestive images being shoved in our faces by advertisers. These days, the idea that “sex sells” is highly regarded as truth; and, across the world, companies ranging from Abercrombie and Fitch to the neighborhood burger shack are giving the ok for their advertising companies to turn even the most innocent of products into a sexual circus (i.e. that hamburger commercial that featured a practically naked Paris Ho-ton washing a car).

One might also argue that most consumers don’t really mind all that extra T&A; after all, a little half-time nipple slip here and there never REALLY hurt anyone (plus I am sure there is some educational value in there somewhere). However, I do think that there is something to say about subtlety, and sometimes advertisers totally cross that line. Case in point: the web designers for The Negril Inn.

I was searching online for a hotel in the Caribbean, and stumbled upon a website for this little Spring Break-orientated getaway in Jamaica and while I can see that they are attempting to attract a young crown- I think they may be going a little overboard with this graphic on their site:



Here's a better look: I mean, I agree that it is nice to know that the hotel offers a pool and A/C (AIR CONDITIONING), but do we really need a graphic showing that “ACTION” and “BOOBS” are available as well? Then again, maybe I am out of touch- do you think guests to the hotel have to pay extra for the boobs based on their size or is just a flat rate?

LMW Peace Offering, the LONGEST weekend update EVER

When it comes to my weekend updates- my goal has always been to take you through the highs and lows of the past weekend in a very methodical manner; however, I am not too methodical, as people go, so you will have to bear with me.

On Friday, my dear friend Peppermint Patty came to visit me for the night. After we had a nice dinner with Hope Valentine we headed over to Centanni’s (one of Milwaukee’s piano bars), to meet up with a group of my Super Secret friends.

You may remember:

-Flower Power and Beaker Callahan
-Darling Peterson and her boyfriend Wakefield
-Hope Valentine and Peppermint Patty
-new friend and coworker Misty Moynihan and her new boyfriend Tiger Golfington.
-and Peppermint Patty’s old college friend, and Milwaukee lothario D.J. Not So Smooth (not to be confused with Captain No Skills, who was not in attendance).

With so many friends there to laugh at my jokes, I had a wonderful evening-and was SO glad Peppermint Patty was able to visit me.

Saturday morning came quickly-and sadly, so did the time for Peppermint Patty to head back to Chicago. But not to worry, Spanish Houlihan was on the way! By some strange chain of scheduling, both friends planned to visit me this weekend, but neither was able to stay for more than one day. Either way, I was happy to see them-because man is it hard to get Chicagoers to come to Milwaukee.

Spanish and I had a lovely day getting manicures-little did we know the sinister foe that awaited us back at my aging, but comfortable apartment building.

For no sooner had we entered the elevator and pressed the button to my floor that my building’s 1920’s-style death trap of an elevator slowed to a distressing halt ultimately stopping between the first and second floors.

Unable to maintain my cool, I immediately began to panic-while Spanish tried to press the alarm and debated whether to call 9-1-1. Soon a face from the 1st floor peered up at us through the elevator’s window.

Elevator reenactment.

Spanish/LWM: Help us!!!
Guy: Hey, you guys ok- what you doing in there?
Spanish: WE ARE STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR, GET THE BUILDING MANAGER.
Little Miss Westchester: (panic-induced heavy breathing) Spanish, I can’t breath-this is like** my worst fear realized.

(**NOTE TO READERS: This statement was a slight exaggeration, being that my first fear is actually vampires; however, I will let it go as, “plummeting to my death in an old elevator shaft” is also high on my list of fears.)

Luckily, the building manager was in his apartment, and he calmly instructed Spanish on how to open the elevator door so that we could escape. Once the door was open, Spanish and I slid ourselves to the elevator floor, and then slowly eased our ways out of the elevator and down into the arms of our rescuers.

The whole thing was traumatic and I am happy to say I will be taking the stairs from this point out.

After a few hours of R&R and some major deep breathing exercises-Spanish and I headed out to meet Darling Peterson and Petal Personality at a local bar. I would name the bar; except for this one small detail: Tall Pete works there.

My seven loyal readers may remember Pete from previous posts- but if not, I shall refresh your memory. I met Pete through Lance Friendly a while back; and, after going out on only one date with the guy, things ended somewhat abruptly when Pete stalked me to a house party (he hadn’t been invited to) and then got angry and pouted to Darling Peterson when I wasn’t giving him any attention……cuckcoo, cuckcoo.

Truth be told, there was never really a chance for a “love connection” there in the first place, mainly because I have never been the type to play into someone's mind games and, at the age of 30-something, Pete had the emotional maturity of a pixie stick.

Anyway, fast forward to this Saturday night when, after spending a wonderful evening laughing and talking with Petal, Spanish, Darling, Wakefield, and new arrival Franklin Serious, I ran right into Pete as I was trying to leave the bar. Actually, let me restate that, I ran into Lance Friendly and a “mysterious companion” who (perhaps feeling legitimate shame for his past 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' behaviors) kept trying to turn his back towards me so that I could not see his face. This clever ruse on Pete’s part may have worked…had there been anyone else standing around him; however, the bar was practically empty; and, at 6’7”/ 350 pounds Pete is not exactly hard to miss. What a goon.

So Lance, are you here alone?

On Sunday morning, Spanish and I had a long talk about love, life, and celebrity breakups before she headed home. Elevators and meat-heads aside, I had a great weekend-and am really looking forward to Peppermint Patty’s Wine/Cheese/Chocolate party in a few weekend’s time.

Tally ho.

Behind the Music: Little Miss Weschester

Have you ever been so bored at work that you wished you could create your own rock band?

Well, then this is for YOU!

The curse of the wagging tongue

There comes a time in every person’s life where the need to speak overwhelms any sense of propriety or appropriate office decorum-and for me, that time is now.

Earlier this morning, as I was making the long journey from my cubicell to the group printer my department has been assigned (located conveniently on the other side of the building), I couldn’t help but notice a recent development in the wardrobe stylings of one of my least-favorite coworkers.

Specifically, my coworker is wearing an eye patch.

And by ‘eye patch,’ I am not talking about a tasteful, flesh-toned bandage that has been delicately taped over the folds of my coworker’s eye so as not to draw attention; no, the eye patch my coworker has selected is big and black and probably visible from space. In fact, I vaguely remember seeing a similar patch on display at the Pirates of the Caribbean gift shop, during my last trip to Disney World.

It probably doesn’t help matters that this particular coworker also walks with a slight limp….and carries a talking parrot around on her shoulder.

Someone pray for me.

Nominate ME!

A heartfelt plea to my Seven Loyal Readers:

As you may know, blog award season has rolled around again; and like last year, I have gone ahead and nominated MYSELF in multiple categories for the 2006 Bloggies.

If my 8th grade run for student council representative taught me anything, I will probably be the only one who votes for me; however, just in case you feel like it, please nominate Super Secret Rantings for a 2006 Bloggie.

If you were scratching your head at which categories I actually might qualify for, here were the categories I (very) optimistically selected:

• Best American Weblog
  
• Best Tagline of a Weblog ( When passive aggressive pouting and unexpressed comebacks just aren't enough.)
  
• Best-Kept-Secret Weblog
  
• Best New Weblog
  

...and maybe even:

• Most Humorous Weblog
  
• Best Writing of a Weblog
  

(And, just so you know, I am completely fine with any pity nomination I might receive. Little Miss Westchester has no pride, best to remember that.)

Thank you for your pity...I mean help!

Yours truly,

Little Miss Westchester

Rockin' till I'm one of the oldies!

According to THIS site, my life expectency is 91! Beat that mo' fo'!

Fan Art

Many thanks to Jazzy A for this lovely (and extremely lifelike) artistic rendering of Me, Jazzy, and our good friend Peppermint Patty.

Peppermint Patty (left), Little Miss Westchester (center), and the artist, Jazzy A(right)

Note: If any of my 7 other loyal readers feel like taking an artistic crack at my likeness (through the magic of Microsoft Paint...and your imagination), I encourage that sort of thing whole heartedly. Also, if I am fully clothed in your picture, I may even post it here!

Ring a ding ding

The time for ringing in the New Year has passed-and like many American’s I rung it hard. Rather than face the high prices and packed crowds of the bar scenes, Hope Valentine and I headed up to a little town called Cedarburg to hang out at her sister’s house. There (along with Hope sisters and their fiancés/husbands) we feasted on a wonderful steak dinner, drank the bubbly and sang and danced (just me and Hope on that last one).

By four in the morning, the party came to a crashing halt when Hope and I fell asleep on our pre-designated couches; and there we remained until much later that day when Hope convinced her sister to make us a pancake breakfast….so THIS is what it is like to be the youngest child.

Per usual, I am back in the office and anticipating the weekend. The working days have (admittedly) flown by; however, I would be lying if I said that I haven’t been slightly unnerved by the general public’s new found need to work out.

Empowered with resolutions to lose weight and get healthy, these gym-newbies are taking up the good machines and ignoring usual gym decorum (i.e. wipe down your machine when you are through, don’t talk to me when I am exercising, and most importantly, don’t fart when you are working out on the machine directly in front of mine).

I guess it is also consoling to know that despite all of this New Year’s work out madness and change, there is still the one, unwavering constant at my gym, that being Kooky Kathy’s permanent reign over the T.V. in the stretching room.

From what I can tell, Kathy is also unnerved by the general public’s new-found urge to work out. Last night as I was doing my stretches I overheard “the Kookster” telling a friend that she was having a hard time adjusting to the heavy gym traffic- (well I should say the heavy stretching room traffic, because Kathy does not appear to have ever actually worked out or to have left the chair in the stretching room, for that matter).

Be that as it may, I listened as Kathy recounted her day in front of the stretching room T.V., and how despite her best efforts to strike up conversations, she felt that she was being largely ignored. She went on to give the example of how she had been “really ticked-off” earlier that day when an “Asian lady” had come into the stretching room and didn’t even bother to smile at her. At that point in our conversation, Kathy turned her attentions back to the television screen and began talking about her new-found love for the show “Dog the Bounty Hunter” on A & E.

(Artistic rendering of Kooky Kathy in her usual spot.)