Glee-union

It's been four months. Four loooooong months.

Since I last blogged? No, not quite. Since my beloved Glee last aired.

Yes, at 9:28PM last night, Glee came back! And while I didn't actually WATCH the episode because I'm waiting to see it with my fiance (and without commercial interruption), just knowing it's back makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I may break out in song. Actually, no I won't...

Did I ever tell you about the time when I was a singer? It was the end of the 6th grade, and I was 11. Grammar school. The place where they let EVERYBODY sing. I had one of many solos in We Are the World, and I did my best to channel Kim Carnes (of the Bette Davis Eyes fame), with my two fellow students, Huey Lewis and Cindy Lauper. I thought I was awesome. Total rockstar. I can even remember what I wore, primarily because it was neon.

Anyway, when I went to middle school the following year, I eagerly signed up for 7th grade chorus. I sang my heart out to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner, which would determine if I should have been grouped with the altos, the sopranos, the tenors, the basses (bases?), or the baritones. It was that day, I learned there was actually a sixth group in chorus: the mutes.

I was informed, in no uncertain terms, that I should, "sign up for art class instead, Jenny." So I did. After all, you don't have to sing when you're drawing or painting or sculpting. Hell, you don't even have to talk! Maybe that was her point.

So now that I'm 26 (ahem, plus 10), my singing is relegated to long car rides... alone. Trust me, it's for the best.

Back to Glee. You know what I love more than the show, or the singing, or the Slurpees, or even the almighty jazz hands? Sue Sylvester, aka Jane Lynch, the diabolical head coach of the Cheerios and arch nemesis to all Gleeks.

The devil wears Adidas.

And after next week's episode, I hear she Vogues, too. Every line out of her potty mouth should be put on a bumper sticker. I would even put them on my car. If I had one. So, in honor of Sue, here are a few my fave lines:

"I'm going to ask you to smell your armpits. That's the smell of failure, and it's stinking up my office." (Episode 3, Acafellas)

"All I want is just one day when I'm not visually assaulted by uglies and fatties. Seriously, Ohio, these retinas need a day off." (Episode 12, Mattress)

"Me, I never wanted kids. Don't have the time, don't have the uterus." (Episode 6, Vitamin D)

"I, for one, think intimacy has no place in marriage. Walked in on my parents once, and it was like seeing two walruses wrestling." (Episode 8, Mash-Up)

"Let me break this down for you, okay? I empower my Cheerios to be champions. Do they go on to college? I don't know, I don't care. Should they learn Spanish? Sure, if they wanna become dishwashers and gardeners. But if they want to be bankers and lawyers and captains of industry, the most important lesson they could possibly learn is how to do a round-off." (Episode 7, Throwdown)

"You'll be adding revenge to the long list of things you're no good at -- right next to being married, running a high school Glee Club, and finding a hairstyle that doesn't make you look like a lesbian." (Episode 13, Sectionals)

"I will go to the animal shelter and get you a kitty cat. I will let you fall in love with that kitty cat. And then on some dark, cold night, I will steal away into your house... and punch you in the FACE!" (Episode 8, Mash-Up)

"I like minorities so much, I'm thinking of moving to California to become one." (Episode 7, Throwdown)

"You wouldn't even know if your Glee Club was using your office to breed rabbits for pets or for food. You know why? You're too busy chasing tail and loading your hair with enormous amounts of product. I mean today it just looks like you put lard in it." (Episode 12, Mattress)

"You want to be creative, you want to be in the spotlight. Face it. You want to be me! So here's the deal: You do with your depressing little group of kids what I did with my wealthy, elderly mother. Euthanize it! It's time, and I'll be happy to offer you a job as my second assistant on Cheerios. You can fetch me Gatorade, launder my soiled delicates. It'd be very rewarding work for you." (Episode 2, Showmance)

"I am about to vomit down your back." (Episode 7, Throwdown)


See any I missed? Add them below! Unless, they're from last night's episode. In that case, wait until next week...

Put a Date on It

Um, hello? Is this thing on? I haven’t blogged in ages. I mean AGES. I owe you an apology.

(Sorry)

Actually, I’m probably just talking to myself at this point. You aren’t even reading this because you’ve given up. Given up on me. Given up on this blog. Who can blame you?

You might think I’ve just had nothing to say over the last 7 weeks. Ha! Me? Nothing to say? Oh, please…

I just haven’t made the time to say what’s on my mind. It’s as simple as that.

Sure, I’ve started crafting many a blog post in my head on my walk to work, but sadly, that’s where they remain. So, if you hoped this post would contain my musings on highly persuasive AT&T pitchman, Luke Wilson, you’re out of luck (though I should tell you I'm thisclose to ditching Verizon and getting a iPhone).

You will also be disappointed if you stopped by on the off chance you’d learn how Gary “Scary” Coleman’s recent arrest inspired me to develop a gallery of celebrity mug shots. Or why I think you need to be watching Undercover Boss and The Marriage Ref (seriously, get on that). Or when I became the crazy deodorant lady because my 24hr antiperspirant took a half day (don't ask).

Nope. You won’t find any of that here.

I know, excuses, excuses. I’m not the only one who’s busy. We all have lives. And the majority of the last 7 weeks of mine has been spent doing a MILLION different things. But one thing I have NOT been doing is planning my wedding.

And it’s not that I don’t want to. Really, I do.

It’s that we haven't set a date set yet. Mainly because we don’t have a budget yet. Welcome to wedding planning, recession style! But one thing we DO know is that we’re getting hitched this summer.

Yep, you read that right: THIS SUMMER. (And no, I'm not knocked up.)

Sounds crazy. I mean, being in the biz, I know the average wedding takes 12-18 months to plan. I also know that the average wedding costs roughly $26K (make that $42K in the NYC area). And I know that the average bride-to-be spends nearly 30 hours each week planning her wedding -- it’s basically a second job.

But that’s not me. I am the anti-bride.

I really don’t care to be engaged for a year and a half, obsessing over every minute detail, I cannot fathom spending what could amount to a down payment on a house for a silly little party, and I do not need a second job planning my wedding when my FIRST job involves helping other people plan theirs.

Personally, I’d rather just be married and move on with our lives. And luckily, so would he.

Blasphemy? Maybe. I don’t care. I’m not a princess and this certainly isn’t my “big day.” I’m 36 years old for God’s sake!

That ship has sailed.

The fact is, whatever the budget, whenever the date, I've met the man of my dreams. What else do I really need? Well, maybe two more things: 1) a wedding that feels like us and 2) to have our closest family and friends there to celebrate. I know I DON'T want a generic, cookie-cutter, insert-bride-and-groom-here-style soiree that focuses more on what you’re SUPPOSED to do than who you actually ARE as individuals and as a couple.

Huh. And all along I thought I was so conservative and traditional. Who knew?

If anyone out there is still reading this blog, inspire me! Did you do anything non-traditional when planning your own wedding?

The Skunkies

What is $34.50, involves oily butter, and makes your feet stick to the floor?

Why it’s a trip for 2 to the movies (plus snacks), of course!

With this kind of investment, you’d probably want to spend your hard-earned movie money wisely, right? And there are PLENTY of people out there to help you do just that. From Razzies to Rotten Tomatoes, there’s no shortage of sites sniffing out the movie bombs.

I know this. Really I do. And yet, I keep watching stinkers.

And I don't mean movies of the “so bad they’re really good” variety. I mean just plain awful ones. The kind that make you want to plop down on your couch to watch TV instead because if you don't like the show, at least it was free (sorta). Or make you want to eat healthy carrots instead of a bucket-o-faux-buttery popcorn, because they help improve your night-vision (or so I hear).

For whatever reason, I continue to turn a deaf ear to the critics. So tonight, I am compelled to share 10 painful films that I have endured over the past decade. Let this be a cautionary tale.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit seeing most of these. And I’m certain I’ll never get the precious hours back that were spent throwing up in my movie-loving mouth as these interminable films droned on.

So, on with the show! Here are my WORST movies of the decade.

And “The Skunky” goes to…

2000: Battlefield Earth
Tagline: “Prepare for Battle.”
Star Power: John Travolta, Forest Whitaker
10-Word Synopsis: Futuristic Scientologists destroy Earth, enslave humans. Accidental comedy.
Stink Factor:

2001: Glitter
Tagline: “In music she found her dream, her life, herself.”
Star Power: Mariah Carey, Terrence Howard
10-Word Synopsis: Big-haired singer with dream. Should stick to singing, not acting.
Stink Factor:

2002: Crossroads
Tagline: “Dreams change, friends are forever.”
Star Power: Britney Spears, Dan Aykroyd, Kim Cattrall, Justin Long
10-Word Synopsis: See Mariah.
Stink Factor:

2003: Gigli
Tagline: “Murder, blackmail, temptation, redemption. It’s been a busy week.”
Star Power: Ben Affleck, Jennifer Lopez, Christopher Walken, Justin Bartha
10-Word Synopsis: Set in Jersey -- spoiler -- can't believe they didn't work out.
Stink Factor:

2004: Catwoman
Tagline: (they didn’t have one, so I’m adding my own: “Me-Ouch!”)
Star Power: Halle Berry, Benjamin Bratt, Sharon Stone
10-Word Synopsis: Woman becomes cat, fights crime. Really, Oscar winner? REALLY??
Stink Factor:

2005: The Gingerdead Man
Tagline: “Evil never tasted so good.”
Star Power: Gary Busey
10-Word Synopsis: Psychokiller comes back to life as cookie. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Stink Factor:

2006: Basic Instinct 2
Tagline: “Sometimes obsession can be murder.”
Star Power: Sharon Stone
10-Word Synopsis: Nobody needs to see your lady parts again, Sharon. Seriously.
Stink Factor:

2007: Who’s Your Caddy?
Tagline: “This summer, it’s the street vs. the elite.”
Star Power: Sherri Shepherd
10-Word Synopsis: Racial stereotypes abound. Title is most clever thing here.
Stink Factor:

2008: Pineapple Express
Tagline: “Put this in your pipe and smoke it.”
Star Power: Seth Rogan & James Franco
10-Word Synopsis: Must be high to understand unfunny reefer comedy. Have munchies.
Stink Factor:

2009: Jennifer’s Body
Tagline: “She’s evil… and not just high school evil.”
Star Power: Megan Fox, Amanda Seyfried, Adam Brody
10-Word Synopsis: Can’t resist things named Jennifer. But it’s no Juno, Diablo.
Stink Factor:

Ok, now it’s YOUR turn. Surely I can’t be the only one who watched horrible movies in the past decade. Add your own stinkers below!

Blogger-In-Law

Happy 2010!

(If you are reading this aloud to friends, that's "twenty-ten" NOT "two-thousand and ten" or the dreaded "twenty-o-ten").

Yes, I’m 15 days late with my New Years greeting. Or maybe... I'm 30 days early! Chinese New Year begins on Feb 14, after all, and I hear it's the year of the tiger.

Roar. Or is it grrrr? Meow? I dunno.

Anyway, since we are at the dawn of a brand-new decade, I resolve to exercise more (no I don't). And eat healthier (nope -- couldn't even keep my 2009 resolution to eat more junk!). And blog more (well, TRY to blog more).

But you know who’s NOT a blogger slacker like me? My brother-in-law-to-be! He just started his own blog. And it’s the perfect antidote to the estrogen-fest happening here. Plus it gets updated MULTIPLE times per day.

I have blog envy.

Now, you may be wondering, how do I know if his blog, The Lighter Side of Sports, is right for me? If you answer “no” to the following questions, I think you’ll enjoy his Sports Center meets The Onion mash-up:

1) Do you like watching the commercials MORE than the actual Super Bowl?
If no, click here. If yes, do not click here.

2) Do you go to a baseball game JUST for the snacks?
If no, click here. If yes, do not click here.

3) When a body check happens on the ice, are you at the AIRPORT in winter?
If no, click here. If yes, you know the drill.

Unfortunately, I DO watch the Super Bowl for the commercials. I’m ALL about the baseball snacks. And I once got body checked in the Calgary airport (let’s just say it wasn’t pretty to be manhandled by a large woman named Shirley).

So I won’t be reading his blog. If anything funny happens, let me know.

(I kid!)

Seriously, check it out if you’re smart. But ONLY if you’re smart. I don’t need a bunch of dummies going over there telling Colin that Jenny sent them...

Any other blogs we should be reading? List them below!

Dear Santa...

As I type this, you are in Pittsburgh. At least, according to NORAD.

And I know that I’ve already received the ultimate Christmas gift. His name is Justin. But I have been very, very good this year. So just in case you are feeling ultra generous, here are 12 things I wouldn’t mind finding under my tree when I wake.

For your convenience, I've listed them in price order. Not that money should matter to a man with elves...

-- A Big Top Cupcake Maker (got it already, one down!)
-- A Starring Role in a Classic Novel ($25.50)
-- The World’s Largest Gummy Bear ($29.99)
-- A Pair of Feety Pajamas ($44.99)
-- An iPhone on Verizon (make it happen!)
-- A Subscription to the Bacon of the Month Club ($575.95)
-- An Arts & Crafts Closet ($1,301.36)
-- The Backyard Blizzard Snowmaking Machine ($2,689.00)
-- A Trip for Two to Learn to Cook in Tuscany ($5,590.00)
-- A Zoltar Fortune Telling Machine ($8,999.95)
-- A Cupcake Car ($25,000.00)
-- The World’s Largest TV ($149,000.00)

So… I think that’s about it. Until next year.

Merry Christmas & enjoy the cookies (homemade, just for you!),
Jenny

The Rachel

So I’m down in Del Boca Vista for the holidays visiting my parents, which is great. Except for one thing: I miss my fiancé something awful.

Spending two weeks in the retirement community to end all retirement communities is certainly relaxing (which I need), but it also means I’ve got lots of time on my hands. And a lot of time to miss him. So I’ve been trying to keep busy. Shopping. Cooking. Eating. Decorating. Watching movies. Going swimming. Driving around the neighborhood. Getting my hair cut.

Yep. You heard me right. Getting my hair cut. In Florida. At a retirement community.

Brave? Nah!

I’ve been thinking about getting it chopped for a while. Admittedly, it was overgrown, shaggy, shapeless, lifeless and all-around unflattering. You know, when the split ends are 5 shades lighter than the roots? Pretty. I needed an intervention. But in my defense, I attribute my hair-don’t to the fact that my hairstyle doesn’t require much maintenance. Actually, I'm lying. I don’t even have a hairstyle. I just have hair. And LOTS of it (being from Jersey and all).

My mom and I thought it would be fun to go get our hair done together. So we cheated on her normal salon -- Root 466 -- and made an appointment at a new one closer to my parents’ house. It was called Dimensions, which doesn’t really sound like a salon to me -- frankly, it sounds more like a rehab facility or a special ed program.

But we went with it and got appointments with a stylist named Josephine and the ambiguously-gendered Chris. Going in, I was 95% sure that guy or girl, I was choosing Chris. The name Josephine made me think of a chain-smoking, bourbon-drinking old broad with a hairy chin.

Well, a goateed, gap-toothed man in an embroidered black and white bowling shirt approached us. In the most friendly southern drawl I've ever heard, he said, “Well hey there, gals! My name's Chris!” I immediately turned to my mother and whispered, “I’m rolling the dice with Josephine.”

Call me a snob, I don’t care.

Next, in walks Josephine. And she didn’t have any hairs on her chin at all! She looked normal. Roughly my age. And in the first few minutes, she told me she was from Long Island. Now we’re talking! I decided to be bold and take my hair by the roots: I’m here for a cut, let’s get a CUT!

"Long layers!" I declared, and off we went.

After my scalp took a beating in the shampoo chair and she liberally applied detangler to my mangy locks, Josephine went to town. And by went to town, I mean that by the end, there was more hair on the floor than there was on my head. Seriously. She had to sweep 3 separate times. You know like when Edward Scissorhands is at work and his eyes glaze over and stuff is flying everywhere? Yeah. It was like that.

After almost an hour of snipping and moussing and drying and curling and straightening and spraying (and praying) and balming, she was done. I spun around towards the mirror, not knowing what to expect.

Now, I wasn’t particularly nervous, mind you. My philosophy -- ever since a truly horrendous perm I once got back in the 10th grade -- is that it’s just hair. It grows back.

Anyway, I took a look at the front and the back with that little hand-held mirror thingy. And I actually liked it! Huh?!? Go Josephine!! There was just this one thing. This nagging thought...

I’ve seen this look before.

Anyway, my mom came over and her hair was exactly the same as when we walked into Dimensions. Seems she got an un-cut from Chris (who incidentally was from Arkansas -- is that considered the South? -- I dunno).

We went over to pay and the bill was $64. Naturally, I assumed that was for each of us.

Nope.

It was for BOTH of us! $64 for TWO haircuts. Plus my mom had a $10 gift card from some promotion they did a YEAR AGO. And they honored it! So that’s $54 for two haircuts. Or… $27 PER HAIRCUT. My brain exploded thinking about the cheapness of it all. I don’t even think you can get ONE eyebrow waxed in NYC for $27. Unbelievable! Like a Christmas miracle.

So I literally skip out of the salon, after spending mere pocket change on a haircut I'm loving more and more each minute. I feel 5 lbs lighter. Then it dawns on me, where I’ve seen it before.

It’s The Rachel.

Freaking Josephine from Long Island gave me a 15-year-old haircut! Awesome. I thought about getting annoyed, but for $27, really, who gives a crap?

I just hope my fiancé likes it. And if not… it grows back.

Joy to the World

I have been a blogger slacker. I know this. You know this. We all know this. Mea culpa.

As a peace offering, I come bearing good news. Actually... scratch that. This is super-terrific-happy-HUGE-totally awesome-fantastically wonderful-can’t even believe this is happening-somebody PLEASE PINCH ME news.

I am engaged!

I KNOW!!! News this good bears repeating: I. Am. Engaged. WOOOOO HOOOOOOOOO!!!! You may think it’s kinda sudden, but I say, when you know, you know. And, believe me, we know.

You know?

Of course you do! You faithfully followed my online dating disasters. You cheered when I officially took myself off the market because I met a truly wonderful man. And now, I believe it is only fitting to share how this perfect engagement happened.

Facebook may have known it first, but YOU’LL know it best…

We’d been talking about getting engaged for a while. I knew it was looming. Hell, I even picked out the ring! I kind of assumed it would happen over a weekend, either before or after the holidays.

So, my parents recently came up from Florida -- 5 whole days (and nights) in my 550 sqft deluxe apartment in the sky, and we had a great time! But since my boyfriend and I didn't have very much time together that weekend, I suggested that I visit him in CT on Monday, after my mom and dad were safely back in the Sunshine State.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll just see you on Wednesday.”

“Fine,” I said, and hung up the phone. Disappointed.

Shortly after, I received a text saying he’d reconsidered. Turns out, I was right! I really should come up for a visit on Monday night.

I paused momentarily on the fact that I was right. (That’s always lovely to hear.) And then I made plans to come visit, all the while thinking this was MY idea...

Fast forward to Monday after work. I caught the 5:28 out of Grand Central and arrived in Stamford around 6:15. He picked me up at the train station, as per usual, and let me know he’d ordered us pepperoni pizzas from a local place we love, Colony. Yum.

We grabbed the pizzas and drove back to his condo. When we walked in the door, I saw his halls were all decked out for Christmas. His tree was framed in the picture window. Amidst the twinkle lights, about a hundred different ornaments hung from the branches -- ranging from Jimmy Buffett margaritas to Dolphins helmets to Montauk lighthouses -- each one with a special significance. The house smelled of the holidays, a mix of cranberry and evergreen. And three little stockings hung from the windowsill.

One for him. One for his 7 year old daughter. And one for me. (Awwww!)

It felt like a normal night, with a dash of holiday cheer. We chatted and enjoyed our pizza. We watched two episodes of The Office. And I told him the most long-winded, never-ending saga about a good friend’s horrible date (remind me to tell you about it sometime -- it’s a doozy!).

I must have blathered on for thirty minutes straight. At least.

Around 8pm, I flipped on the TV Guide menu to see that Santa Claus Is Coming to Town was on ABC. We were totally in the mood for a Christmas cartoon, but not that one. So he dug into his extensive DVD collection and popped in ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. You know the one -- with the mice? And the broken clock? Love it.

Anyway, just before he hit play, he disappeared. I didn’t think much of it. When he came back into the living room, I saw a flash of orange in his hand. “Score,” I thought. “A Reese’s peanut butter cup!”

Um… it wasn’t a peanut butter cup.

He approached me as I was sitting on the couch, by the light of the Christmas tree, and dropped to one knee. The orange flash was actually a ring box. And inside was the most beautiful ring I’ve ever worn. And the most precious gift I’ve ever received.

The ring has three stones -- one to represent him, his daughter, and me -- with a sparkly deep blue sapphire in the center, which just happens to be the birthstone for September (the month he was born).

I was SO stunned I may have blacked out for a minute. (Is that what I THINK it is? Is this happening?? Did he fall off the couch, or is he really on one knee? OMG, it IS happening!!!) At first, this inner dialogue prevented me from hearing the lovely words coming from my boyfriend’s -- now fiancé’s -- mouth. But once I snapped out of shock, I said yes. Yes. YEESSSS!

And I’m pretty sure I thanked him about fifty times.

That’s when the waterworks started. Now, I don’t consider myself a big crier, but these were tears of joy. When I went to hug him and pulled away, a giant streak of my black/brown mascara went across his cheek like he had just been accosted by Tammy Faye Bakker. It wasn’t pretty.

But it was perfect. Perfectly romantic. Perfectly us.

So that’s the story. And before you ask, we have NO idea about a wedding date yet, but it will be sooner than later. We’re thinking this summer, maybe?

Because as much as I love being his fiancée, I truly can’t wait to become his wife.

xoxo

I Love New York (Sorta)

Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while. I’m still adjusting to the end of daylight savings time.

Yesterday, I got in a taxi and the driver wasn't talking on the phone, or driving as though we were the getaway car in a bank robbery. In fact, he was a good driver, and I didn't get car sick AT ALL.

How refreshing!

It’s moments like that when I think I love New York. Or maybe, it’s more accurate to say I’ve LEARNED to love it. But it wasn’t easy! To me, the city is an acquired taste, like stout or stinky cheese.

I was born in the Bronx and lived there for almost 6 years as a kid, but I really grew up in Jersey, and I went to college in Connecticut but came back to The Apple to work, and I've spent my whole career here.  These are the things I’ve learned NOT to do in the City, which has made my time living here as an adult (16 months and counting) much more enjoyable.

Consider it a public service...

Don’t… Eat Street Meat
Don’t get me wrong, I love junk food (Bloomy does too!). But consuming anything known as a “dirty water dog” is a no-no in my book. Nevermind the stale pretzels, giant clumps of crusty peanuts, and drippy gyros (since when is meat gray?). I don’t care how famished you are, either keep walking, or invest in a stomach pump.

Don’t… Eat at a Chain Restaurant
Look, I like a Fridays, or a California Pizza Kitchen, or a Chevys just as much as the next guy. But there are a bazillion amazing eateries in the Big Apple. So why would anyone EVER eat at the Olive Garden in the middle of Times Square? Everything costs 3x more here than it does in your hometown, and it is probably one of the least authentic NY eating experiences you can have. For the true flavor of the city, you’re better off with street meat -- that’s saying a lot!

Don’t… Eat at The View (that spinning restaurant atop the Marriott Marquis)
Maybe they think you’ll be so distracted by the skyline (look, it’s a tall building, oh WAIT… it’s… ANOTHER tall building!) you won’t notice your $50 rubber chicken. Talk about a tourist trap. Oh, and the same kinda goes for the bedazzled spectacle (eyesore?) that is Tavern on the Green. Well, maybe just go one time, but try to hit up a holiday buffet, so that you can really get your money’s worth by eating your weight in chicken fingers. But hurry, they're closing fast!

Don’t… Wait on Line at a Restaurant
I like to EAT in restaurants, not stand in them. So if I haven’t made reservations, I don’t go. Simple as that. NY is too big, and there are too many eateries (many of which serve the exact same things) to justify waiting on line for a table. Period.

Don’t… Bother with the Empire State Building
Speaking of waiting in lines, if that's your idea of a good time, then go here. There are 5 different lines you’ll need to wait on to get to the top, then you’ll stand on a skinny balcony and look around for 5 minutes, then wait on a few more lines to get back down to civilization. Save yourself 2 hours, stand really close to your TV, and watch the end of Sleepless in Seattle instead.

Don’t… Shop at Century 21
For more years than I care to admit, when I heard people refer to this discount shopping destination, I thought they were talking about the real estate company. You know the one. With the gold jackets. Well, finally, I put 2+2 together, and went. Personally, I’d rather not elbow my way through an angry crowd of aggressive tourists/bargain hunters just to purchase a picked over, wrinkled, semi-defective designer blouse with a weird buckle on the side. Even if it is $15.99. So, thanks, but no thanks.

Don’t… Shop at Any Store Claiming to Be “Going Out of Business”
Whether it’s electronics or shoes or cornflakes, merchandise in New York City is already marked up super high. So the “sale” price likely just gets you even with the full price at a store in your hometown. Skip it.

Don’t… Take a Pedi-Cab Anywhere
Unless you want a sweaty teenager to take your wallet for a ride (or you like darting in and out of oncoming traffic like your own personal game of Frogger), skip this death wish disguised as public transportation. On a related note, skip the horse-drawn carriage rides in Central Park. The old horses will make you sad, and the dirty looks you get from real New Yorkers will make you want to crawl underneath the public blanket they supply for your “comfort” (but never wash). Wrong on all counts.

Don’t… Keep a Car in the City
I miss my car. I miss my car. I MISS MY CAR. But a car in the city is a luxury you want no part of. When I commuted in, I was paying $510/month for a garage. Um, hellooo? Street parking is no treat either -- who can figure out those signs? And don’t even get me started on the damage to your bumpers, doors, side mirrors, tires, etc. So plan to ditch the wheels unless you enjoy turning your car into a clunker.

And Finally, Don’t… Take the Subway
Forget that the subway is an underground haven for perverts. Nevermind that every platform stinks like hot garbage. Disregard the giant rats that scurry beneath the tracks. Excuse the fact that the voices over the loudspeakers make Charlie Brown's teacher sound articulate. Avert your eyes from the advertisements when you are actually ON the train (assuming it wasn’t cancelled, delayed, or re-routed), because you do not want to read the colorful commentary provided by fellow straphangers. And don’t even THINK about the cootie colonies that thrive on the poles you are supposed to hold on to for “safety.” Actually… don’t forget ANY of these things -- they are precisely why the best way to get around NYC is on your own two feet.

So, am I allergic to NYC, or have I just written the 10 Commandments for City Life? Tell me what YOU think below!

Creepy Commercials

As you know, I just cleared out my DVR.

When I’m watching TV, like most people, I zip right through the commercials. (Even though I kinda love them.) But there are 2 that stop me in my tracks, mainly because they creep me OUT.

The first is for Tabasco and it involves singing pepperonis. Have you seen this? It is the stuff of nightmares! Now I can’t even LOOK at a pizza without expecting it to burst out in barbershop quartet-esque song. Let alone EAT one. Thanks, jerky Tabasco!




The second is for DirectTV and it involves an updated scene from Tommy Boy with David Spade and Chris Farley, who just so happens to be dead. And this isn’t the first time they used someone who died tragically in a commercial (hello little girl from Poltergeist). Super classy!




What do YOU think? Watch the commercials above, and then vote below:

poll by twiigs.com

Spooky Getups to Skip

Does anyone dress up for Halloween anymore?

I don’t know. I probably haven’t in 10 years. At least. In fact, I wasn’t even in town for it last year!

But THIS year, it falls on a Saturday. So just in case you are headed to a party, or a parade, or you still go Trick-or-Treating (at your advanced age), here are some costumes you’ll probably want to avoid:

#1 - Don’t Be: Edward Cullen & Bella Swan
Do Be: Under-exposed, but equally blood-thirsty, Bill Compton & Sookie Stackhouse

#2 - Don’t Be: Bernie Madoff
Do Be: Suze Orman, who I hear also has a teeny weenie

#3 - Don’t Be: Betty & Don Draper
Do Be: Peggy Olson & Duck (don’t forget the post-sex cigarettes!)

#4 - Don’t Be: Billy Mays & a bucket of OxyClean
Do Be: Vince & a life-sized Slap Chop
(Incidentally, Mays’ SON is hosting this contest. I say, “Boo!”)

#5 - Don’t Be: Falcon “Balloon Boy” Heene and his crazy dad
Do Be: Max and any of the Wild Things who want to eat him

#6 - Don’t Be: Kanye West & Taylor Swift
Do Be: Bronson “Balki” Pinchot who recently started picking on Tom Cruise

#7 - Don’t Be: Kate Gosselin, mom of the year
Do Be: The table-flipping Real Housewife of NJ, Teresa Giudice

#8 - Don’t Be: Lady Gaga
Do Be: Amy Winehouse & her "fantastic" new boobs (bonus points for adding her creepy dad)

#9 - Don’t Be: Michael Jackson
Do Be: Weird Al, it’s about time for a comeback and Eat It was classic

#10 - Don’t Be: A Philly cheese steak or a New York cheesecake
Do Be: The last issue of Gourmet magazine, RIP

# 11 - Don’t Be: Sarah Palin
Do Be: Franken-Biden, just paint yourself green and scare the kids

#12 - Don’t Be: Saw, the jigsaw killer
Do Be: Pennywise, the killer clown from It

# 13 - Don’t Be: The Twitter bluebird
Do Be: The Fail Whale


So there you have it! Add your own Do's and Don'ts below...

I’ll accept 20% of all ghoulish prizes (cash and otherwise) that you might win as a result of skipping mainstream pop culture costumes in favor of slightly more creative gear.

And while we’re on the topic of Halloween... did anyone see the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin promo that ABC was running this week? Or was it just a nightmare? I can't find it online, but I can say with confidence that The Peanuts and Rap go together like chocolate and feet.

Word.