My Jersey Valentine

February 14th gives me acid reflux.

You can’t avoid it, even if you try, mainly because Hallmark’s bought every other commercial, declaring it the day we say, “I love us.” Or else it’s Kay Jewelers, the Leo Diamond, and marriage proposals in Chinese, Spanish, AND English. Every kiss may begin with Kay but every commercial ends with me throwing up a little in my mouth.

As you know, I’ve recently (reluctantly) reentered the dating scene. Virtually at least. And I can confirm that there’s no shortage of freaks waiting to meet me. The more things change, the more they stay the same. But since I’m waaay out of practice, I’ve decided it would be prudent to take a few lessons from people who have had FAR more experience with the opposite sex than I have.

I’m speaking, of course, of the cast from The Jersey Shore.

I snuggled up on my couch yesterday and read both Here’s the Situation: A Guide to Creeping on Chicks, Avoiding Grenades, and Getting in Your GTL on the Jersey Shore AND The Rules According to JWoww: Shore-Tested Secrets on Landing a Mint Guy, Staying Fresh to Death, and Kicking the Competition to the Curb. To call this a Master Class would be an understatement. I even took notes! 

Consider it my valentine to you.

Absorbing the dating advice in these ghost-written treasures took ALL my brain power. So to fuel my studies, I also ate a box of the most scrumptious mini cupcakes on Earth and watched Valentine’s Day and I Hate Valentine’s Day. I like to cover an issue from all angles.

I would also like to learn to “crush it 24/7.”

So single friends, we’re about to get schooled from 2 individuals who know a LOT about VDay (and also, perhaps, VD)…

ON PHYSICAL ASSETS
Sitch: “Milky white abs make chicks want to puke. Slicked up abdominals encourage the ladies to slip and slide.”
JWoww: “You can’t go wrong with cleavage.”

ON HAIR
Sitch: “Don’t be going to Supercuts. You want a barber who’s craft is cutting hair. It’s his art. He needs to wake up each morning thinking about cutting hair the same way I’m thinking about hitting the gym -- with passion.”
JWoww: “Humidity will make you poodle up.”

ON PERSONAL GROOMING
Sitch: “At a minimum, you’re going to want to shave your chest and six-pack. I trim, but don’t fully shave, my armpits."
JWoww: “An acrylic French mani is a must. No chips or smudges; your fingers should be flawless. Until you bust one scratching some bitch’s eyes out.”

ON CLOTHING
Sitch: “If you’re having difficulty deciding whether or not to purchase a particular garment, there is one sure-fire method left at your disposal. Put the magnetic security tag gently to your ear. If you can hear the faint, distant thumping of bumping club music, buy it.”
JWoww: “If I had to label my personal style, I would say it’s 'Sexy Sophisticated.' Some critics have dubbed it, 'Stripper Chic' -- and I can live with that.”

ON ACCESSORIES
Sitch: “Some cutting edge shirts today include a necklace integrated into the garment itself. If you think this means you don’t have to wear a separate, standalone necklace, you couldn’t be more wrong."
JWoww: “Never leave home without a change of panties. They could come in handy.”

ON PICKUP LINES
Sitch: “So many bros get all hung up on pickup lines, as if it really matters what you say to a girl. If you’ve chosen your target correctly, the first thing you say to her is merely a formality.”
JWoww: “Here’s a no-pressure opener that will get the conversation going: 'Hi.' (Basically, that’s about all a guy needs to hear to get his attention.)”

ON MS/MR WRONG
Sitch: “Nine out of ten times, the grenade is a grenade because she’s ugly and fat.”
JWoww: “Learn to spot a man-whore a mile away. This is a necessity. It will save you time, energy, and aggravation.”

ON DATING
Sitch: “If you roll up to a place out of the blue, having never been there before and having done zero recon, that’s the moment your date will know you’re a clown. Maybe you’ve been to the Olive Garden in Tom’s River, but does that mean you can trust the Olive Garden in Eatontown will be just as classy? Do you know for a fact that the chicken scampi will be succulent and the breadsticks unlimited at this strange new Olive Garden? No, dude, you don’t.”
JWoww: “If he’s interested, he is interested enough to ensure you eat well and get home safely in a cab. No cheap bastard makes a good boyfriend. And if he doesn’t know what a florist is, dump him.”

ON ROMANCE
Sitch: “When you bring a chick from the club back to your shore house, things should progress quickly from there. It’s the Jacuzzi, and then up to your private quarters for some pounding out. After you’ve done your work, you need your rest.”
JWoww: “Reheated pasta never tastes the same. When you serve it as leftovers on Tuesday, it just aint as good. The same goes for relationships. All that’s gonna come from getting back with an ex is heartburn.”

ON THE MORNING AFTER
Sitch: “I need to be aware at all times of the whereabouts of possessions like my cell, wallet, and jewelry. Believe it or not, some girls steal things as a memento of our experience together, as if smooshing wasn’t enough.”
JWoww: “It is a hard-and-fast rule that a Guido will never wife-up a one-nighter.”

A FINAL WORD ON BECOMING MS RIGHT
Sitch: “Once you get beyond the riff-raff at the club (ie: grenade launchers, zoo creatures, hypnotic hyenas, trash bags, etc), girls break down into five categories, from sleeper to keeper:

• Fifth class: purely physical attraction with little to no emotional attachments
• Fourth class: not cute enough to take her places where she’ll be seen, so watch movies on her couch
• Third class: good-looking on the wrong side of gorgeous, take her out but spend your time in the dark
• Second class: a girl you invite to dinner, giving her the full benefit of your GTL rituals
• First class: beautiful, smart, classy, and cooks a mean chicken cutlet -- this is no chick, this is a lady”

So there you have it, sage advice straight from the experts. Makes me proud to call Jersey home. And thankful I can, in fact, cook a mean chicken cutlet. Maybe there’s hope, after all.

You know, all this knowledge is exhilarating!

I feel like I want to conquer new subjects -- like getting my finances in order! I wonder if MC Hammer’s written an investment manual?


tags: dating, holidays, jersey

Can You Hear Me Now?

They say good things come to those who wait.

So, I waited. And waited, and waited, and waaaaiiiiiittted. Then the glorious day came: 02/03/11.

(think Steve Jobs reads my blog?)

Not one to mess around with something so critically important, I'm unashamed to admit that I set my alarm so I could wake up exactly at 3am last Thursday to be one of the first to purchase a Verizon iPhone. It also happened to be my half birthday, and since my full birthday was such crap, this was a happy coincidence.

I didn’t even hit snooze!

Of course, you’d expect nothing less from a #1 fan. And apparently, I wasn’t alone. It’s estimated that over 500K existing Verizon customers purchased the iPhone 4 in the first 17 hours it was available. They had to shut it down because of excessive demand. It’s already the most successful Verizon launch ever -- and it’s not even available in stores. Yet.

Well, I’m thrilled to report that at long last… the Eagle. Has. Landed. Wooohoooo!

It’s like Christmas all over again. But a zillion times better. And I have to say, the whole process couldn’t have gone smoother (more smoothly? Eh, whatever.). I’m totally impressed by the site they set up to handle orders. I logged right on, it recognized me and my pitiful Razr, AND it automatically had my $50 credit listed.

If you listened closely, you could hear a siren go off at VZW headquarters when they saw I finally redeemed it. I’ve been out of contract for YEARS.

Then, I tracked that package like Linda Church tracks a storm.

The National Weather Service has got nothing on me. Origin scan in West Chester, PA! Pack your patience, it just departed Philly!! Arrived in Saddle Brook, NJ!!! Don’t forget the umbrella -- it’s out for delivery from Long Island City!!!!

My doorman signed for it at 5:35 last night. Heaven. And when I got my hot little hands on it after work, all I had to do was sync it with iTunes to activate. No annoying calls to a toll-free number, or worse, having to visit the store to do it in-person. It even came fully charged! Within minutes, I was up and running.

Even the Jetsons never thought of anything this cool. And they could fly.

Oh, the future is now, my friends.

If I could only figure out how to blog from it, I would have. Instead, I sent what I thought was an email (but turns out was actually a text message) to my brother and sister-in-law. I feel like the cavemen must have felt when they discovered fire.

Ahhhh, pretty! But don’t get crazy or you’ll burn your eyebrows off.

I can’t wait to discover everything this new phone can do. As you know, my old cell phone and my iPod were the last remaining connections to my relationship. On the phone were almost a thousand text messages he sent me over the course of our year together, dozens of photos he took, and 2 of his phone numbers. I didn’t have the heart to delete them, mainly because I didn’t have the stomach to go through them. Too much to re-live.

On the iPod were hundreds of songs -- our Infinite Playlist. I used to listen to those songs each day and think of us and our future. Since we broke up, every time one crept into the mix, I couldn’t skip to the next song fast enough. It was like a horrible game of Name That Tune. “I can start bawling in six notes, George.”

I wonder if there’s an app for that?

Anyway, what I love most about this new phone is it’s really a new beginning. I have now checked everything off my list. All ties are cut. I guess it’s taken me this long to finally say goodbye… by saying hello.

So, cheers to new beginnings. And btw there IS an app for that.

What else should I download? Is Angry Birds worth the hype? Enlighten me below.


tags: pop culture, shopping

Let Them Eat Jelly Beans

Today marks the 100th birthday of Ronald Reagan, The Great Communicator. Whether you like him or not, he proved one thing that has benefitted Democrats and Republicans alike…

The #1 requirement to win the US Presidency is personality.

And a great speechwriter.

Even now, I view of our 40th President with child-like nostalgia. I was just 7 years old when he took office in January 1981. It was Oakland vs Philly in Super Bowl XV (Oakland won). Pac-Man fever was sweeping the nation. We were all glued to Dallas and the lives of the Ewings. Raiders of the Lost Ark was tops in the box office. Reading Cujo kept folks up at night. Everyone wished she was Jesse’s Girl. And MTV was born.

The milestones of this presidency are burned in my memory too. I clearly recall coming home from elementary school to find out he’d been shot. I got scared seeing my mother's reaction to the news -- surely she was reminded of JFK. And I remember laughing, years later, when I’d read his first words upon entering the emergency room after nearly being assassinated were, “I hope you’re all Republicans.”

Not bad for a guy 2 months into the job with a bullet lodged near his heart.

I remember laughing during his debate with Mondale, where he promised with a wink, not to “exploit for political purposes, my opponent’s youth and inexperience.” And I wasn't alone, obviously.  He later was re-elected with a record 525 electoral votes, winning every state but Mondale's homestate of Minnesota (and DC). A landslide victory by any count, not plagued by W's hanging chads or ridiculous questions of Obama's US citizenship.

I still can’t read the speech he gave after the Challenger exploded without choking up when they “slip the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God.” Peggy Noonan, you wreck me.

You are dead inside (or maybe a Communist) if you didn’t swell with American pride when he stood in West Berlin insisting, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” Whether you believe it was political strategy and defense missiles or Levis and rock and roll that brought about the collapse of the Soviet Union, we were all saved from the biggest threat of the latter half of the 20th century: nuclear extinction. And it happened without the US firing a single shot.

Freedom is that powerful.

But I remember feeling confused in the wake of Iran-Contra. When asked why he denied trading arms for hostages, he somberly testified, “My heart and my best intentions still tell me that’s true, but the facts and the evidence tell me it is not.” It’s sad to see a President in that position -- whether it was Nixon with Watergate or Clinton and the definition of “is.” These moments remind you that the President is human.

When he stepped out of the spotlight, officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, on the “journey that will lead me into the sunset of my life,” I was reminded of the devastating effect the disease had on my own family. Ever the optimist, even then he believed, “for America there will always be a bright dawn ahead.”

Ten years later as he left the “shining city on a hill,” I felt like we lost a connection to a simpler time. Even though looking back, I'm not sure how I feel about the politics of it all.

He once said you could tell a lot about a person’s character by how they ate jelly beans. His favorite was licorice. So, in honor of the '80s, I’ll be at my brother's house tonight watching Super Bowl XLV in my Phil Simms shirt while popping Jelly Bellies (except for the popcorn-flavored ones – they’re gross).


tags: politics, pop culture

Oh, Just Pull the Trigger Already!

So… I said back in November that it was time to start dating again. And it probably was!

But I didn’t.

It’s the holidays, I thought. Let’s get through that first. Then I was down in Del Boca Vista for a couple of weeks visiting the ‘rents. Too busy playing shuffleboard and eating dinner at 4:30 to meet anyone not eligible for Social Security. And then work got crazy. So I didn't make the time. Then the drain in my tub clogged. I couldn’t possibly start dating with my world in such chaos.

I’m just delaying the inevitable. Procrastinating. Wasting time. You know it, I know it too.

It’s like when you put off making a dentist appointment, which incidentally, I also need to do because I don’t want my teeth to rot inside my head. Similarly, I also do not want to die alone with 14 cats gnawing at my remains. I don’t like cats at all! Especially when they are nibbling my face off.

So, to avoid this grisly fate, I reactivated my profile on Eharmony. Closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. I freshened up a few photos. I updated a few phrases. I dusted off my requirements. And I shelled out $240 to join for a year (yep – you read that right – aren’t you glad you don’t have to do this anymore?).

I chose this site over Match – for now – because it’s like dipping my pinky toe back into the dating pool. There’s a whole communication process you have to go through first that seems less intimidating to me than jumping right into meeting a total stranger for drinks. We all remember how that goes. 

I’m not quite ready for that. Yet.

You might be surprised to hear that I'm giving online dating another chance. But at my advanced age, there are few options for meeting new people. Plus, I still do believe the process can work! I just met the wrong guy. And I suppose, he met the wrong girl. It’s astonishing to me, looking back at how much I put up with. So regardless of the guy I date next -- or the guy after that, or the guy after THAT -- my own personal mission is not to compromise what’s important.

To get as good as I give.

I still believe I can find that guy who will be my best friend. Who will have my back, as I have his. Who will adore me -- quirks and all. Who I can trust will say what he means, and mean what he says. And who I can call before I fall asleep and he’ll know it’s me -- not from the caller ID, but by the sound of my voice.

He’s out there, I think. I hope! And if he’s not... don’t anybody let me buy a cat.


tags: dating

Hello Dolly

Ahem. Is this thing still on?

I know. I’ve neglected this blog -- and the other one -- and YOU. Let's blame work. It’s been a little crazy lately.

Good crazy. And crazy crazy.

I’ve recently been given a few new websites to work on. Of course, I’ve still got the wedding planning site (something old), but now I’ve inherited a food site (something new), which is totally up my alley.

Plus, I’m channeling my days working for the Gnome by taking on a travel site (something borrowed), and they've given me a fashion site too (something blue), just for good measure.  Hope they don't catch on that my fashion sense is just a step past Amish.

Anyway, if I could only clone myself, I’d be all set.

Luckily, I met with a company last week that lets you do just that. And you don’t even have to be a sheep! In fact, it’s preferable if you aren’t.

I should warn you, this is not for the faint of heart.

First, you have to remove all your makeup and take a photo with your hair pulled back off your face. Yikes. Next, you upload the pic and zoom in on each of your facial features to help them understand where everything is. This is when you discover that the left and right sides of your face are not symmetrical.  Or maybe that's just me. But then, the worst is behind you and you can try on hairstyles and makeup until even YOU don’t recognize your own head anymore. Wheeee.

It’s totally fun, and it’s FAR better than actually doing any of these things to yourself permanently.

I don't know about you, but I haven’t had very good luck experimenting over the years. Like the time in the 8th grade when my hair overdosed on Sun-In and I wound up looking like Ronald McDonald’s little sister. With braces. Or the time in the 10th grade that my hairdresser, Conrad, was high on cocaine (true story) and left my perm solution in so long that my hair had the texture of a poodle dipped in honey. Or even the time during my senior year in college when I chopped my hair so short, I could have been mistaken for the guy on the Dutch Boy paint can.

In my experience, beauty can get pretty ugly.

But thanks to the magic of the internet, we can experiment without doing lasting damage -- to our hair, or our psyche.

So, I now know I look awful as a blonde in the Reese Witherspoon (middle left) and as a redhead in the Ashlee Simpson (top right). I see I have a giant forehead in the Victoria Beckham (bottom left). I could be recruited by the Ice Capades in the Christina Applegate (middle right). And I’d probably need to buy some clothes made of hemp to pull off the Jen Aniston (bottom right).

I have to say, though, I kind of liked the Lea Michele (main image).

I even dig the reverse roots that make the ends of our hair a different color than the rest. And while I never load up on the eye makeup like you see here, it makes me believe I could do a smoky eye and not look like a total tramp.

Or a tranny. 

I might even take this look for a spin on a date! Maybe I should practice first on a trip to Gristedes, the grocery store with mini-bar prices…

Anyway, check it out if you get a chance. And if you don’t like your new look, you can just delete it instead of locking yourself in the bathroom, like I did after the Salon Perm Massacre of 1989.

Care to share a hair nightmare?  Do it below.
 

tags: beauty, work

The Land of Make Believe

Let me get this straight: I’m now a tasty crab instead of King of the Jungle?

What’s next? Am I adopted too?

I don’t even know the characteristics of Cancer, because I’m too self-absorbed to find out (a classic Leo trait).

I refuse to let myself get worked up about this new zodiac sign, Ophiuchus. As far as I’m concerned, it does not exist. The gods have NOT spoken. Especially since nobody knows how to pronounce this new word.

The reasons to ignore the existence of the mysterious 13th sign are obvious.

First off, the guy who dropped this astronomical bomb last week, is named Kunkle. That just seems made up to me. Parke Kunkle can pry a Leo horoscope reading from my cold, dead hand (being dramatic is Leo's domain too). Second, someone needs to fire the astrological naming committee because this new sign sounds like a disease -- “Oh, he’s got the Ophiuchus again, don’t let him use your Chapstick.” Third, this is not new news. Apparently, this sign has ALWAYS been jammed in there, if you followed Eastern astrology.

But we don’t.

Now, if you told me the almighty Oprah, an Aquarius, has grown so awesomely powerful that she’s created her own zodiac sign, I would believe that more. But back in reality, we’ve got 12 months, and 12 signs. Period. I was a Leo yesterday, I am a Leo today, and I will be a Leo tomorrow (loyalty, incidentally, is right in Leo's wheelhouse).

It reminds me of a few years back when they announced Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore. Sorry. You can’t just demote a planet. Didn’t they know the saying? My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Nine… nothings? Um, nooo… it’s Nine Pizzas! You know it, I know it, and every 9th grader in Earth Science knows it too.

I wish people would realize that there’s a difference between an invention/discovery and flat-out make believe.

For example, if someone made a bag of chips with a flat bottom that could also double as a bowl for easy snacking? Now, THAT would be an invention, and a damn good one (if you're listening, Frito Lay, please ditch the noisy Sun Chips bag for this gem).

But changing well-established facts? That’s just a waste of time.

And while we’re on the topic, can the fashion industry please chill out too?

Skinny jeans are a known entity.  They are pants made of denim that are tight-fitting. But jeggings are the wannabes of the pants family.  They are jeans with tons of stretchy lycra baked in so people, like me, who are too fat for skinny jeans can still squeeze into the party. And Pajama Jeans are not jeans at all -- they are jean-colored sweatpants and a total abomination.

Let’s also agree that ankle boots are simply shoes that cover your whole foot and ankle. They are not called "shooties," a cutesy name derived from combining shoes and booties. Or "bootines" (I don't think anyone knows what two words were combined for this one). And don't get me started on the Snuggie, which is nothing but a flimsy backwards robe.

In general, let’s quit making shit up.

But don’t let me be the boss of you (like the Leo that I am). Do you disagree? Or see anything missing? Add it below!


tags: pop culture, shopping

Fun & Games

Did you know 1/11/11 was the 40th anniversary of the card game Uno?

No? Me neither.

But if I’m to believe a couple of guys dressed up as a Wild Card and a Blue #4 who were standing outside Grand Central this morning, it’s true.

Who said one is the loneliest number? I love this game!

I have the BEST childhood memories of playing Uno with my little brother and our grandma. I can remember spending summers at her house in Jersey, sitting in the dining room with its giant wooden chairs.

She was Italian, so every game began with a meal to keep up our strength.  She would buy Entenmann’s lemon pie for me and blueberry crumb for my brother. We’d eat a big ol’ hunk, then we’d break out the cards and play Uno for hours in tournaments that lasted until school started in the fall.

Skip! Reverse! Draw 4! SUCH fun.

Now before you get all, “Awwww,” on me, you should probably know one thing: I cheated my ass off.

(don’t worry, it has since grown back with a vengeance)

You should also know I'm not a dishonest person.  I didn’t initially set out to cheat. In fact, up until my brother was about 5 or 6 years old, I used to just naturally win every single game we played, given our 5 year age difference. But something awful happened when he started the 2nd grade. He got smarter!

So, I turned to a life of crime…

He'd ask all wide-eyed and innocent, “Wanna play Monopoly, Jenny?” Well, sure! And while he turned his back to see what hijinks Gobo was up to down in Fraggle Rock, I’d swap little green houses for big red hotels. And my $50 bills magically became $500s before he could say, “Do not pass Go.”

“Feeling like Scrabble?” Oh yeah! I think I even convinced him that we were supposed to pick eachother’s letters. He never questioned it, even with round after round of letters like XPQZKJY.

“How about a game of Life?” Ab-so-lutely! My little pink and blue peg people multiplied quicker than a wet Gremlin, just so I could collect more cash presents.

“Anyone for Battleship?” This was too EASY! Maybe we played it wrong, but we could never see eachother’s boards, so if F8 was called, suddenly my submarine just scooted across the ocean. Nobody’s sinking MY battleship!

But Uno? Ah, that one really made me flex my phony muscles. It was the ultimate cheating challenge. No board.  No tiny pieces to manipulate.  No paper money to steal.  The real key with Uno was that I always volunteered to shuffle.

Never trust the shuffler.

As the cards made shuffling sounds, I’d quickly slide the good ones onto my lap with my pinky and then pepper them back into the deck so they would come up every 3rd card.  When I dealt, starting on my left, I'd be flush with picture cards and they'd have nothing but numbers. I was like a budding Penn & Teller with my sleight of hand.

Keep in mind, I was like, 12 at the time. But the fun and games came to a SCREECHING halt one day when we were playing Life and my brother caught me with my hand in the money pot. Hoo boy. That was not my finest hour. 

But I think it was a growing experience for us both. He came to realize he could kick my cheating ass, in more ways than one (or uno, if you prefer). And I came to realize that nobody likes a cheater.

Lesson learned!

I don’t cheat at games anymore.  Mainly because they all watch me like a hawk.  I'm pretty positive that the minute my brother reads this blog post, he's going to fire off an email to me (he maaay still be a little bitter). But I do hope he will also remember the fun times we had as kids playing games like Uno.

I can't wait to eat pie and play games with his kids too. And I promise NOT to teach them how to play "Aunt Jenny Style."

What was YOUR favorite game to play (or to cheat)?  Confess below...


tags: family, jersey, pop culture

Dear Steve Jobs,

There’s a lot going on in the world these days. 100,000 fish just dropped dead in Arkansas. Australia is under water. Snowmageddon paralyzed the whole eastern seaboard last week. Brad Womack is back as the Bachelor.

But I’m laser-focused on one thing: Verizon getting the iPhone.

I check the news daily and I read discussion boards I don’t really even understand, desperately searching for kernels of information, rumors, whispers, and other assorted propaganda. I’ve asked sweet baby Jesus. I’ve asked Santa Claus. And now I’m asking you…

When are you releasing a Verzon iPhone?

I know you handed over the iPad. It's not enough. I need the phone. Just give me a date! We all know it’s coming! But WHEN?? I can’t wait much longer.

Do you SEE the ridiculous junk I’m still carrying in the hopes that my dream phone is right around the corner? It might as well be a tin can and a string.

I bought my Motorola Razr like 6 YEARS ago because I saw it on Entourage and thought it was cool. Even Johnny Drama has moved on by now! And don’t even get me started on my iPod. It belongs in a museum at this point. Plus the battery dies whenever it’s cold outside.

Like now.


It’s not right to make me suffer this way!

Verizon telemarketers don’t even bother to call me anymore to upgrade. Even THEY think I am a lost cause and they have horribly low standards. I see their flashy commercials, but I am not tempted. Incredible?  Ha!  I say Droid Schmoid. I’m holding out for the iPhone. And only YOU can make that happen.

I long for the day that I can download useless apps. I vow to cherish every swipe of my shiny new iTunes library. And I will honor my awesome video chat capabilities by putting on lip gloss before every single call I make.  That's a promise.

I will, in fact, marry my Verizon iPhone.

You know, the Consumer Electronics Expo starts on Thursday. Might that be a convenient time for you to steal the spotlight with this exciting news? I hear Verizon’s CEO is a keynote speaker. I’m sure he’d share the mic with you. Maybe give him a call. From your iPhone.

Otherwise, I think your birthday is coming up. Please, please, please take pity and give yourself the gift of ME. And roughly 90MM other Verizon Wireless customers.

But mostly, me.

iThank you for your time,
Your #1 Verizon iPhone Fan

 
tags: pop culture, shopping

Adios 2010

I am soooo ready to kiss 2010 goodbye.

Mwah.

What was supposed to be my best year ever turned out to be total crap. Dumped?  Check.  Homeless?  Yup.  Poorer?  You betcha!  2011’s got to be better, right?

(gulp... right?!)

Here are the important steps I'll be taking tonight to ensure that it is…

Watching Andy Cohen on Bravo
I cannot handle ringing in New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with pre-recorded musical guests and plastic Ryan Seacrest. And I'm sorry but watching Dick Clark struggle to speak brings me down. So I’m switching things up this year with Bravo and the irresistible Andy Cohen. He's not lighting a tired old ball -- he's dropping a blonde wig.  Plus, it's cable, so there's a good chance he will be counting down to midnight as he should be. Tipsy.

Eating 12 Grapes at Midnight
Following a tradition that started in Spain over 100 years ago, I am going to eat 1 grape for each tick of the clock so I can have good luck every month of the year. By the last stroke of midnight, I will have eaten 12. I wonder if it applies to anything eaten 12 at a time? Like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups? Ham sandwiches?  I’m guessing no. But either way, it’s a good thing I have no one to kiss. My mouth will be too busy eating my future.

Reading My 2011 Horoscope
It seems that my life (and yours!) should unclench in the New Year.  Thanks to Jupiter, Uranus, the Moon, Venus, Pisces and a purple unicorn at the end of a rainbow, we’ll all get relief from our romantic worries. Then the Sun, Saturn, Mars, Capricorn, and the two-timing Moon and Venus get in on the action so our money problems ease up too. It’s comforting to know the trust issues and debt that I acquired as parting gifts in 2010 won’t stick around.

Wearing Bright Undies
Some people slip into sequined dresses, others sport tuxedos. Me? I’ll do like they do in South America and slap on some brightly colored underpants. Most popular is red to attract love, or yellow for prosperity. Maybe I'll wear both. Do you think size matters? If so, count me in for a scuba suit.


I think I’ll stop short of plucking all my eyelashes out and making a wish on each one. But I’m pretty much game for anything else.

Got any other crazy suggestions for good luck? Add them below!


tags: entertainment, food, holidays

On the Roadi

I recently discovered I've only visited 16 states. 

And I'm not talking a stopover in O'Hare on the way to LAX.  I'm counting states where I've spent at least one night. 

They are: Arizona, California, Connecticut, Florida, Illinois, Massachusetts, Missouri, Nevada, my beloved New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Texas, Vermont, Virginia, and Washington DC.

That's 16 states (17 if you count DC) in 37 years.  That's kinda lame, no? 

I thought so too.  Which is why I was psyched when my good friend Jodi came up with a brilliant idea to visit all 50 states!  Not all at once, obviously.  We still have jobs.  And lives (well, at least SHE does).  But once or twice a year, we'll visit someplace new in search of adventure. 

This will keep us busy well into old age... just in time to let our wrinkly bikini bodies loose on all the Caribbean Islands.  Thank God for cruise ships, or we'd have to live to be 120.

Anyway, fate will decide the state we visit next, and YOU can follow along on our new blog, On the Roadi with Jen & Jodi.

We'll even be tweeting from the road(i) so we can instantly share the thrill of finding the world's largest frying pan (in Rose Hill, NC), or feel like giants in Tiny World (in Shippensburg, PA), or show our contribution to the Gum Wall (in Seattle, WA), which would be a fitting pit-stop considering how we first became friends nearly 20 years ago.

We're picking our first destination out of a hat on 1/1/11 from Fairfield, CT, where it all began.  I hope you come along for the ride!

So, how many states have YOU visited?  And have any cool tips on places to see and things to do?  Tell me below!


tags: travel, writing