Birthday, bah humbug

Friday is my 28th birthday.
Over the years, I have developed an ambivalent relationship with birthdays. It’s not easy getting old. Actually, it sucks. Every year brings a new symptom of aging that would make my younger self cringe. This year’s kick in the ass was the debut of my senior citizen hair. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, nappy white and gray hairs popped up all over my head. “What the fuck!?” I would scream at the stranger in the mirror. How did this happen? I’m so young! OH, the inhumanity!

Cue scream:

After my nervous breakdown, I took to the plucking route. You know, the thing that everyone tells you not to do. Yeah, I did that. I plucked and plucked until my scalp was sore.  Then the fuckers grew back and they sprouted straight up towards the sky. It was real attractive. I gave up. I had to dye it. There was no other choice.

Good bye, natural black hair!

Hello, John Frieda’s “natural black” hair!

John Frieda Precision Foam Colour Luminous Natural Black 2N 1 Each [717226170744]

Now I’m 28. What will it be this year?! skin tags? wrinkles? extra body hair? The suspense is killing me.


Last Saturday I took a trip to the Museum of Modern Art with my good friend from college. It was the last day for the Magritte exhibit so the place was bursting at the seams with smelly artists and hipsters. It reminded me of the sweaty dance parties we used to throw in college, minus the dancing, alcohol, and fun.
I’m not really the “art viewing” type of person but the MOMA has many famous pieces in their permanent collection that I appreciate, including, but not limited to, “A Starry Night” by Van Goh, “Christina’s World” by Andrew Wyeth, and “The Persistance of Memory” by Salvador Dali.

I’ve come to realize that the attraction of the MOMA is not the art, but the glorious selfie opportunities that the art provides. A “selfie” is a photo that one takes of one’s self. It wasn’t just one person taking selfies it was EVERY SINGLE PERSON in that museum. Even the dopes that carry around their IPads were joining in the fun. Honestly, IPad person, you look like an asshole. I saw one moron grab a sculpture for a “funny” selfie. A security guard almost tasered her. Anything for “the shot”.

Did I Participate in selfie Saturday at the MOMA? Of fucking course. It was too good to pass up. In fact, I went above and beyond the traditional selfie by asking others to take the picture for me. It was epic.

A Starry Night? who cares! Salvador Dali? Who’s that? Is my hair good? Okay, take the picture. :Smile: :Shoot: :Filter: :Hashtag: :Post:- Trip to MOMA complete.


Then, just as we were about to leave, we spotted someone wearing the same exact outfit as me. At that moment I made two decisions: 1) To never shop at Target on black Friday again 2) To follow the chick around until I got a shot worthy of social media posting.
Now that you’ve finished reading this post, do yourself a favor and search #MOMA on Instagram. It will make you laugh. I promise.

Juice Head

I’m a self proclaimed juice head. Not the Jersey Shore type of juice head, but the actual juicing type of juice head. While I thoroughly enjoy the sport of juicing, it can be a real pain in the buns. Clean, peel, cut, core, juice, drink, clean- Way too much work for one friggin glass of juice. In the real world (not my world) where people have jobs (not me),  juicing is much too time consuming to do regularly. 


At one point in my short lived juicing career, I was juicing once a week. Then I started storing my juicer, AKA the Situation, in a not-so-convenient location. It was all down hill from there. Today, I took the Sitch out of hiding and blew the dust off his parts. He looked so happy to see me, and I could not wait to light his ass up like a Saturday night at the Shore!


I choose my flavors by scanning the fridge and determining what fruit or veggie is closest to rotting. It’s a pretty quick selection process. If you look funky and smell funky then you’re gettin’ thrown in the Situation. The rotting treasures of choice are always the shining stars of my juices. Today, I happened to have expiring strawberries and oranges. Lucky for me, they are a nice flavor combination.


One lesson I learned during today’s juicing session is that it may be more economical to blend strawberries into a smoothie with other soft foods, like bananas, because the Situation extracts lots of good pulp. Of course,  this pulp, like all pulp, could be used in a number of different recipes or it could just be eaten right out of the pulp catcher thingy, but why go through the hassle of scraping out pulp when it can just be blended into a delicious smoothie.


One pint of strawberries and two naval oranges make about 16 oz of juice. It’s amazing how much fruit it takes to make one friggin glass! This is something to keep in mind when you first start to juice. Here’s a basic list of approximate fruit to juice ratios:
2 naval oranges= 8 oz juice
2 grapefruit= 8 oz juice
3 medium carrots + 1 Apple= 8 oz juice
3 Golden Delicious Apples= 8 oz juice
1/3 pineapple= 8 oz juice

If you don’t have your own Situation and you are looking for one that won’t break the bank then check out the Jack LaLanne Power Juicer. We bought this for my mother in law and she loves it. Go ahead and treat yourself to a sitch! You deserve it!


How Numismatic of You

If you are not a schmillionaire or an autistic savant with an interest in coins then you are probably thinking, “what the fuck is Numismatics? ”

Numismatics is the sport of pissing money away on collectable coins. Numismatists literally piss and shit money right into one another’s pockets. Being that so few people have hundreds of thousands of dollars to spend on a single coin, the community is rather incestuous and business is circular. It is both strange and intriguing.


This week I had the pleasure of being a lot shower at a coin auction. The job is simple. I show lots (aka coins) that will be up for auction to potential buyers. In contrast to my last position as a manager in the health care industry,  this job requires very little thinking and I love that about it!  What I’ve come to realize is that sometimes life requires you to take a step down before you can take a step up. This job is exactly what I need right now. It is healing my mind.

Most of the day I sit there in my $20 outfit and quietly listen to numismatists say things like,  “I only paid $14,000 for the Serbian lot. It was a great deal!” Oh, the things that I could do with $14,000. For starters,  I would pay off ONE of my student loans. This type of statement can be hard to swallow but, surprisingly enough,  I’m not bitter about their wealth. I am amused.

Numismatists are all wealthy. You have to  have money (alot of fucking money) to be a player in game. These people can afford many things in life. Cars, houses, butlers, etc. You name it, they can get it. However, they choose to spend their money on collecting more money. Not just collecting, but obsessing. This obsession has driven up the value of old, expired coins and counterfeits. A coin that would once only afford a slice of bread can now be traded for a house. Is it this obsession with currency that made these people rich in the first place? I don’t know,  but it is an interesting question to ponder.

There is no doubt that the world of coin collecting is a clear demonstration of the growing financial gap between the haves and the have-nots. While some of us are struggling to pay student loans, others are buying a million dollars worth of old coins. But deep beneath the bullshit of it all there is culture, beauty, and craftsmanship that even I, a daughter of Joe the plumber, can appreciate.

Lasagna Iwannaeatya Pan

There’s nothing that turns me on more than durable cookware. A deep dish that can handle lots of heat and hard banging is the key to my heart. Just thinking about all the potential banging makes me sweat a little.
I must have mentioned this once or twice before, because this year I received 3 different lasagna pans for Christmas. I love them all, but i must admit that I have a favorite and her name is Lasagna Iwannaeatya Pan. This purple, diamond studded beauty is two legs short of walking the runway with Ru Paul.


With the strength of a man and the fashion sense of a woman, Lasagna Iwannaeatya Pan is the apple of my eye and the drag queen of my cabinet. This sexy bitch is my new arm candy (Sorry, husband! ), and I can’t wait to show her ass the pleasures of a moist casserole.

Anybody know the number for the TLC show “Strange Sex”? I’m feeling qualified.

If you are interested in purchasing a sexy bitch of your own then check out 🙂

Thank you, Yahoo

Yesterday, I was searching the word parmigian and up popped the header, “I ate her out, she tasted like parmigian cheese, help!! Should I ” Naturally, I was intrigued. What was the end of that sentence? I needed to know, and I needed to know NOW. Shaking with excitement, I clicked on the link. My eyes widened as a read each line and at that moment I knew what I had to do.


First of all, a cheesy smelling vagina is NOT a good thing, my friend. I suggest you start applying some Monistat for men before you develop your own cheesy funk.

Secondly, you clearly only have two options here: tell her that her puzzy stinks of parmesan OR keep your mouth shut and ride out the smelly vagina train as long as it will last. Let’s review the consequences of each:

Option One: Telling her that her puzzy smells may result in:
– Her seeking treatment for the obvious infection that is gnawing at her labia. Unfortunately for you, treatment of this smelly va-jay-jay will turn the scent off. On the brightside, you be able to eat a bowl of spaghetti without getting a hard-on.
– She may actually appreciate your love of her scent and stop showering to make it smell more. This may or may not work in your favor.

Option Two: Riding the smelly vagina train may result in:
– Her infection worsening, which could cause the production of actual cheese.
– The Worsening of your own condition, Spaghetti Erectile Syndrome (SES).

It’s pretty clear that the best option is to go ahead and tell her about the parmesan scent that is lingering between her legs. If your girlfriend rejects you for spilling your heart, don’t fret. There are plenty of fish in the Craigslist sea and I’m sure at least one of them smells of cheese. I beg of you, please keep on asking Yahoo questions. We, the public, can help you make these tough life decisions, and more importantly, we want to help.