Milk's Favorite Cookie

Guess who turned 101 years old last week?

Me?  No! 

Oreo!

Yet another reason to love the Jerz, the Oreo was first sold in Hoboken a century ago.  Today, it is the world's best-selling cookie.  It has 32 million Facebook fans. 

And if you stacked the 450 billion Oreos made since 1912, they would stretch to the moon and back.

Five times.

They say women are more likely to pull an Oreo apart before eating it.  Hmmm... if only there was a robot that separated the cookie and the cream for you.  Oh wait, there is.  Named HERB.

They've come a long way since your lunchbox days. 

When you weren't looking, Oreos multiplied.  Been in the cookie aisle lately?  There are tons of variations on the classic chocolate sandwich cookie with the sweet cream filling. 

But are they better?  I had to put them to the test.

So, I bought 25 different kinds of Oreos (in the name of Important Research) and took over my parents' kitchen in Del Boca Vista. 

Here's how the cookies crumbled...

THE CHOCOLATE COOKIE COMPETITION

THE BEST:
Classic: "Pass the milk!" (mom & dad's fave)
Peanut Butter: "Oreo heaven." (my fave)

THE WORST:
Mint: "I like mint, but not this way." (mom & dad's least fave)
DQ Blizzard: "Tastes like... nothing." (my least fave)

THE OTHERS:
Double Stuf: "So sweet it hurt my teeth."
Chocolate Creme: "Chocolatey or chalky, I can't decide."
Berry: "Interesting."
Triple Double: "Too much cookie, too little creme."

THE GOLDEN COOKIE COMPETITION

THE BEST:
Neopolitan: "Berry good." (mom & dad's fave)
Golden Double: "Tastes like a Vienna Finger." (my fave)

THE WORST:
Heads or Tails: "Chocolate lost this flip." (everybody's least fave)

THE OTHERS:
Golden Chocolate: "Is this one a mistake?"

THE FUDGE CREMES COMPETITION

THE BEST:
Coconut: "I could eat the whole box." (mom & dad's fave)
Peanut Butter: "Tastes like a Tagalong." (my fave)

THE WORST:
Golden: "Was this a yellow one?" (mom's least fave)
Mint: "Not bad if you like mint, which I do not." (dad's least fave)
Coconut: "Yuck." (my least fave)

THE OTHERS:
Regular: "How can you not love an Oreo covered in chocolate?"
Chocolate Creme: "Yep, that's a chocolate!"

THE SPECIALTY CREME COMPETITION

THE BEST:
Gingerbread: "It's festive!" (mom & dad's fave)
Birthday Cake: "I think I like the vanilla-ish-ness." (my fave)

THE WORST:
Halloween: "Is this supposed to have a taste?" (nobody's fave)

THE CAKEY COMPETITION

THE BEST:
Brownie: "I guess I can like this." (mom & dad's fave)
Golden Cakester: "Tastes like a Twinkie... RIP." (my fave)

THE WORST:
Cookie Sticks: "This is a stupid idea." (nobody's fave)

THE OTHERS:
Double Stuf Cakester: "Will be a Devil Dog when it grows up."

BEST IN SHOW

Mom: Coconut Fudge Creme (Classic a close 2nd)

Dad: Classic Oreo

Me: Peanut Butter Oreo (Classic a close 2nd)










So, can you have too much of a good thing?  No.  Even the bad ones were still pretty tasty (except for that weird cookie stick and oily creme dip -- that was gross). 

But it's safe to say the classic Oreo is still the best.  Just don't forget the milk. 

And don't smile -- nobody likes "Oreo Teeth."

poll by twiigs.com

tags: food, jersey, polls, taste tests

If I Ran the Oscars

Were you among the 40+ million people who watched the Academy Awards on Sunday night?

Me too.

First thing's first: I saw some boobs. 

Their names were Seth and MacFarlane. 

Equally disturbing was discovering that the world has officially run out of faces, and he is the identical (15 year younger) twin brother of Peter "Pork Chopshh and Apple Shhauce" Brady. 

Wonder what Tina & Amy are doing next year?  They're delightful.

Anyway, maybe Argo was deserving of Best Picture (even though Les Mis was Les Robbed), but I haven't seen it yet.  In fact, after 85 winners dating back to 1927, I've only seen 34 of them.  And I only liked 12.

Typically, the Academy's idea of a great movie and mine aren't the same.

You too?

Well, if I was handing out 13.5" naked gold men, MY 85 (yes, eighty-five -- just go with it) awards would go to...

9 to 5
Aladdin
Amadeus*
American Beauty*
American Psycho
Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy
Babe
Back to the Future
Better Off Dead
The Big Chill
Big Night
The Breakfast Club
Bridget Jones's Diary
Charade
Chicago*
Circle of Friends
Clue
Cocktail
Coming to America
Coyote Ugly
The Craft
Cruel Intentions
Die Hard
Dirty Dancing
Duets
Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Fight Club
Footloose
Forrest Gump*
Glengarry Glen Ross
The Godfather*
Goodfellas
The Goonies
Gosford Park
The Graduate
Grease
The Great Muppet Caper
Heathers
High Fidelity
The Holiday
The Importance of Being Earnest
The Incredible Shrinking Woman
Just One of the Guys
The Last Boy Scout
Les Miserables
The Lost Boys
Love Actually
Lucas
Memento
Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil
Miracle on 34th Street
The Money Pit
Moonstruck
The Muppet Movie
My Best Friend's Wedding
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Mystic Pizza
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
Office Space
Once Bitten
Pee-wee's Big Adventure
Planes, Trains & Automobiles
Primal Fear
The Princess Bride
The Program
The Quiet Man
Ratatouille
Rocky IV
Saturday Night Fever
Seven
Someone Like You
Reservoir Dogs
The Silence of the Lambs
Sixteen Candles
The Social Network
St. Elmo's Fire
Swingers
Tango & Cash
There's Something About Mary
Titanic*
To Catch a Thief
Tootsie
Uncle Buck
Wall Street
When Harry Met Sally
The Witches of Eastwick
Xanadu
(* = actual winner)


So, did I get it right?  Was it an honor just being nominated? 

List the movies that YOU think the Academy overlooked below...


tags: entertainment

All You Need Is... Cake

You didn't think I was going to say "love," did you? 

Silly.

Black Thursday is almost upon us, and I -- being perpetually dateless on this fine holiday -- thought I'd turn to my old friend.

Cake. 

Cake is better than a date for several reasons... 

First, you can box up your cake, stick it in the fridge and have it later -- folks frown on doing that to a date.  Second, cake doesn't judge you if you decide to eat the whole damn thing in one sitting -- dates definitely do.  Or so I hear.  Third, it's thoughtful when something is written on the face of a cake -- if something's written on the face of your date, he is very likely a serial killer.

In honor of this unholy day of love, I've collected my 14 (ok, 15) favorite cakes.

Eat your heart out:

Hmmm.  I guess "Enjoy Your Chlamydia!" isn't as classy.

Huge YOU?  I'll be the judge of that.

But I don't want to be a mime!  I'm far too chatty and white gloves creep me out.

 Well that's just embarrassing.  Somebody call Hallmark.  They've been spelling it wrong all these years.

When I want something sweet and cuddly to show my love, the first thing I think of is a smiley booger too.

Is it a Sumo wrestler?  An angry baby?  Danny DeVito?  Who can tell.  And for $5.00, who cares? 

Boobs.  Subtle.

Any way you slice it, that's a very tiny amount of love.  Hardly worth writing on a cookie cake, if you ask me.

Reminds me of a note a boy left on my desk in the 4th grade.  I checked "no" too.

That's ok because I'm in love with Yellow Cake.

Oh yes, it's definitely YOU.

By "people" do you by any chance mean "pies"?  Because I'd be ok with that too.



Think they deliver? 

And your money says, "Bye."

This may be the most disturbing thing ever written in icing.

If you like funny cakes as much as I do, visit Cake Wrecks and pray no one ever gives you one of these.

So, what would YOU prefer on V-day, a cake or a date?   Dish it up below...


tags: dating, food, holidays

The Brother Bowl

The Super Bowl is my 3rd most favorite holiday of the year. 

The 1st is my birthday, obvi because of the presents. 

The 2nd is Christmas, again... presents. 

But the big game slides right in at a respectable 3rd, beating out all other stuff-your-face holidays (Thanksgiving, I'm talking to YOU) because it has one critical element at the heart of it all.

Television!

Oh, how I love TV.  And I love snacks.  And I love commercials.  Did I mention I love TV?

With Super Bowl XLVII and Downton Abbey going head-to-head on Sunday night, I’m torn about which way to turn. Kinda like Jack & Jackie Harbaugh.

I’ll prob watch the game and DVR Downton. (As for the Harbaughs… good luck with that.)

I typically spend Super Bowl Sunday with my brother and his family. We dress up in our Giants gear -- even if they're not playing.  The party kicks off around noon and it’s an all day event.

You’ve got to pace yourself.  Bragging rights are on the line -- who made the best chili, who’s winning the football pool, who can eat the most Cheetos at once, who’s taller. (My bro wins that one by a mile.  Seriously, a mile. He is THAT tall.)

This year, they’re in their new hometown outside Chicago. Even if I trash-text instead of trash-talk, and mock their horrible pizza AND the Bears while eating a delicious, NY-style, Italian cold-cut "sangwitch," the game just won’t be the same!

I'll miss them a ton.  Thank God for snacks.

Since the Hot Wing Bandit recently made off with $65K worth of chicken wings, you may be wondering what to feast on come game day.

May I suggest a 100% Dip Super Bowl Party?

Let’s face it, the wings may get all the glory, but the dips are really everyone’s MVP.  Or maybe that’s just me.  Whatever.

Whether you’re rooting for the Ravens, the 49ers, or the Pepto Bismol you will undoubtedly need on Monday morning, here are a dozen dips to indulge in:



Caramelized Onion & Shallot Dip from Bon Appetit
Scoop with: potato chips

Jalapeno Popper Dip from Brown-Eyed Baker
Scoop with: corn chips

Hot Crab Dip from Chow
Scoop with: crackers

Loaded Baked Potato Dip from Closet Cooking
Scoop with: potato chips

Rick Bayless' Guacamole with Bacon from Epicurious
Scoop with: tortilla chips

Guy Fieri's Pepperoni Pizza Dip from Food Network
Scoop with: garlic bread

Spinach Artichoke Dip from Gimme Some Oven
Scoop with: pita chips

Queso Fundito with Chorizo from Gourmet
Scoop with: corn chips

Bacon Scallion Hummus from Just a Taste
Scoop with: pita chips



Mexican Layer Dip from the Pioneer Woman
Scoop with: tortilla chips

Gooey Cheeseburger Dip from Serious Eats
Scoop with: crackers

Hot & Spicy Buffalo Shrimp Dip from Skinnytaste
Scoop with: celery

So is an all-dip Super Bowl party a fumble or a... field goal?  What's YOUR favorite dip?  

Serve it up in the comments below...


tags: entertainment, food, sports

A Jersey Girl Loves Her Nails

If you're a dude, you might want to come back next week. I promise to blog about football and beef jerky and other manly stuff.

Today, I'm talking about one of my most favorite things in all the land.

Nail polish.

Remember when I showed you my medicine cabinet full of deodorant?  Well, that was the tiny one.  THIS is the big one.

A few weeks ago, I planned to write a post on some new polishes I'd gotten myself over the holidays (a present for you, a present for me).  Um, I mean, SANTA brought me 5 pretty new shades from Deborah Lippmann and Ciaté.

That quickly became 12.  Which turned into 17.  (He's magic, you know.)

Which brought on the swift realization that I'm a nail polish addict.  Silly me.  A single blog post couldn't possibly contain my enthusiasm!   So I created a brand new blog: 52 Shades of Nail Polish.

I know, I know -- should I really be starting a new blog when I don't update this one enough?

Well... no.   I shouldn't.  But I'm doing it anyway.

After working for the last 12 years in digital, the last 6 of which have been at a company that publishes the world's best beauty and fashion mags, I've learned a thing or two.

Why not put it to work for me?

I paint my nails all the time.  It's peaceful and indulgent, and I'm from Jersey so it's basically in my DNA.  Now, each week I'm taking a quick pic, posting the shade and a short review. I'll be sharing my favorites and trying new techniques, like velvet manicures, at-home gel manicures, and I might even name my own polish.

The blog is well optimized for search, so hopefully I can grab a tiny slice of the 1.2 million Google searches for nail polish that are done in the US each month (incidentally, a $770 million dollar industry, AND the fastest-growing beauty segment).

I also wanted to do some things with the new blog that I don't want to do here -- like include advertising.  So I joined 2 affiliate programs (LinkShare and Commission Junction) and got approved by Kay Jewelers, Starbucks, Vera Bradley, Dylan's Candy Bar, and 1800-Flowers to display their ads.  I also got rejected by a bunch of companies because I'm too small. 

For now.

Then, I joined Amazon Associates and created a store so I could hand-pick nail polishes I like and offer them for sale on my blog.  And because I couldn't possibly endorse Amazon's beauty vendors without sampling them myself, I ordered 2 sets -- aka 24 glorious bottles -- of full-size China Glaze polish, so I now own more neon than I did in the 80's PLUS their entire Hunger Games collection. 

It was a great price, I couldn't resist.  (See?  I told you!  Addict.)

Now, I haven't gone delusional from the fumes.  As much as I love my lacquer, I don't think the road to early retirement in Tahiti is paved with nail polish.  But if the tiny commissions I might earn from the ads and the store could fund my habit, that would be cool by me.

Plus, it's fun.

I'll keep it going for at least a year, so I can post a full 52 shades.  After that, who knows? 

So have YOU been stockpiling nail polish too, or am I the only one who will have great looking hands in the zombie apocalypse?  Have any favorite shades or brands I need to try? 

Colorful comments are always welcome below...


tags: beauty, work, writing

5 Reasons I Love Downton Abbey



Do you watch Downton Abbey?

If you do, you already know why it's great.

If you don't, get with the program, old chap!  It's snobby and stuffy and more delicious than English muffins with melted butter in every nook and cranny. 

The 3rd season started a few weeks ago and there are only a handful of episodes in each, so I think you should call in sick one day, slap on a fancy hat, and fire them up on Netflix.


No time to spare?  Ok.  Here's what you need to know:

[SPOILERS ABOUND BELOW - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED]

It all starts when the Titanic sinks.  Lost at sea was the heir to Downton Abbey, a massive English castle owned by Lord Robert Grantham.  He lives there with his American wife, Cora, and his three grown daughters: Mary, Edith, and Sybil.  (Would YOU move out?  It's a castle!)  Since he only makes girls, and these are the Dark Ages, none of them can inherit the home that he dumped his wife's entire fortune into keeping afloat.  Bummer.  His elderly mother, the dignified Dowager (aka widow) Countess, lives nearby and pops into every episode to bemoan the invention of electricity and evolution of any kind.  They quickly track down a distant cousin, Matthew Crawley, who works as a lawyer.  Ewww.  They are horrified he has a job.  And a nosy mother.  Begrudgingly he becomes their new heir, and falls in love with their oldest daughter, Mary -- his COUSIN.  Mary wants nothing to do with Creepy Crawley -- until he wants nothing to do with her.  Isn't that always the way?  Then everything goes to hell in a handbasket because World War I begins.  He joins the Army as an officer and this gentleman gets engaged to a sweet girl named Livinia, who nurses him back to health after being paralyzed from the waist down (including the naughty bits).  Thankfully, right before their wedding, he walks again and she dies of consumption, leaving the cousins free to marry and procreate -- even though Mary is damaged goods from an unfortunate incident that involved a Turk dying in bed.  On top of her.  Sister Edith is invisible because she wears a pasty-face and cannot catch a break in the man department.  It's almost as if everyone is conspiring against her (because they are).  And baby Sybil's a rebel because she wears pants AND married the chauffer, Branson, who is a belligerent political activist in his spare time.  Nobody likes him.

While inequality is alive and well in the 1920s, downstairs in the servant's quarters, things are just as dramatic.  Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes run a tight castle.  They tolerate NO funny business, which is unfortunate for Mrs. O'Brien who looks after the lady of the house so well she slid her right into a miscarriage on a well-placed bar of soap.  It was a boy.  That's a secret she'll take to the grave.  Thomas, the footman, is a schemer who got his own hand shot off so he could quit fighting in the war.  He would be a ladies man if he wasn't always hitting on unsuspecting male houseguests.  Mrs. Pattmore, the cook, is going blind and can't tell the salt from the sugar.  Daisy, the kitchen maid, isn't allowed upstairs except to sit vigil for her devoted husband, William, another footman and wounded warrior who she was peer-pressured into marrying on his deathbed.  She's naïve like that.  Anna looks after the girls when she's not busy visiting John Bates, her new husband and fellow servant, in PRISON.  He's a mysterious guy who fought with Lord Grantham in some ancient war that left his leg all janky.  Bates took the fall for a crime his former wife, Vera, committed long ago and he nobly went to jail an innocent man.  Now, he's is doing a life sentence for killing her with poison -- as it turns out, she was a mean man of a woman who had it coming.  She learned of Mary's tryst with the dead Turk and threatened to expose the secret and bring shame to Downton.  Uh oh.  He claims he didn't do it, and Anna believes him, but she's blinded by love.  A recent burst of anger towards his cellmate kinda makes you wonder...

Whew!  All caught up?  Jolly good.

Now, here's 5 reasons I love this show:

The Dowager Countess
Maggie Smith steals every scene she is in.  That's a fact.  She spouts zingers like a fountain in the garden.  On death: "No Englishman would dream of dying in someone else's house." On electricity: "Oh dear, such a glare!"  On swivel chairs: "Good heavens, what am I sitting on?"  On weekends: "What precisely is a week-end?"

Lady Edith
She's the spinster middle sister -- a hunk of baloney sandwiched between two beautiful slices of sourdough.  A turn of the century Jan Brady, if you will.  She even inspired this wide-eyed Tumblr, which made me laugh -- until last week, when my heart broke for her as she was left at the altar.  Now she's my favorite sis.  We spinsters must stick together.

Mr. Bates
This is the most interesting character at Downton, and he's not even home.  Free John Bates!  Can you get better looking in prison?  If so, he has.  I especially like how his hair is all tousled from wrestling with the inmates.  He never had that 'do as a valet.  His love story with Anna is sweet, makes you wonder how he ever got saddled with that old hag, Vera.  Did I mention she had it coming?

Cousin Matthew
Women fall at his feet.  Money falls in his lap.  A castle practically falls on his head.  Who's got it better than this guy?  Nobody.  Good thing he tries to turn down the ladies, the inheritance, and the mansion in favor of his "principles." Matthew's got a moral compass that would make Jesus look like a jerk.  Ugh.  Damn that dashing man!

Downton
Isn't she pretty?  Whether it's the dining room or the drawing room, the ladies' salon or servant's quarters I can't get enough of this castle.  If only Lord Grantham wasn't running her into the ground with his lousy investments, general mismanagement, and blubbering. (PS: This is a real place, called Highclere Castle, and you can marry like a Crawley for a mere $24K.)





So, do YOU love sinking your teeth into the fruitcake that is Downton Abbey on Sunday nights?  Or do you think all the hype is just plain nuts?  Mix it up below...


tags: entertainment

This Is 40

As you may have noticed, I’ve been dragging my size 10 feet on writing the first blog post of 2013.  Why?

I’m in denial.

This is the year I turn 40 and it’s ALL I can think about.  

All.  I.  Can.  THINK.  About.  

It’s no longer “someday” or “eventually,”  it’s THIS YEAR.

Shit just got real.

When I was 20, I knew I’d be amazing at 40.  You would have loved future me (but secretly hated future me).  I was thin and beautiful and a CEO and rich and married to a boyishly-handsome man well over 6’ tall and a mother to two adorable cherubs and we all lived together in a marshmallow castle on the clouds.

Ah, youth.

When I look at my life today – on the brink of this terrifying age -- I feel many emotions about the new year.  Happy is not one of them.  I know what you’re thinking – it beats the alternative!  Age is just a number!  Forty is fabulous! 

Whatever.  I’m turning 40 and I can whine if I want to.

I don’t care about the physical aging part.  I’ve always looked younger than I am.  Most of my hair is still brown (pick a shade, any shade!).  I don’t really have wrinkles.  The few sad lonely eggs I have left in my ovaries that are rotting by the nanosecond certainly gives me pause, but I think what’s REALLY bugging me about facing a new decade is the disastrous state my life is in. 

I’m talking yellow caution tape, hazmat suit, toxic landfill-level disaster area.

My home?  A ridiculously overpriced rental – at this rate, I’ll never own.  Career?  Stuck in middle management – at this rate, I’ll never advance.  Relationship?  Single as single gets – at this rate, I’ll never marry.  Kids?  Negative – at this rate, I’ll never be a mom. 

I can’t even be a proper spinster!  I hate cats.

I’m halfway through life and nowhere near where I’m "supposed" to be.  I must be defective.  Just walk down the street – anybody with a left hand has a wedding ring on it.  Flip on the TV – anyone with a bank account owns a home.  I have a left hand!  AND a bank account (full of cobwebs).

Why can’t I get my act together? 

Is it bad luck?  I don't think so.  It's because I make bad decisions.  

Not "gas station sushi" type bad decisions, but right up there.  What’s worse, there are actual moments I can pinpoint when my life went off the rails.  If only my vision was as good as my hindsight, I’d be on easy street today (and have avoided a very regrettable perm).

I know I need to take the punch out of turning 40.  I need to do more of what makes me happy, and hope the rest falls into place.  I need to start making better decisions.  I've only felt this way once before.  Not shockingly, it was when I was turning 30.  At the time, I thought I needed to make changes in my home, my career, and my relationships -- so I did! 

Now, I’ve got 8 months to work on basically the same things.  Again.  Let’s see how far I can get by August… and if it's not meant to be, there’s nothing a bottle of birthday cake-flavored vodka and a week in bed can’t fix. 

An old lady needs her rest.

So, how have YOU handled milestone birthdays?  By kicking up your heels or by kicking and screaming?

 

tags:  holidays

The Twelve Bad Dates of Christmas

On the first bad date of Christmas,
eHarmony gave to me:
A Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the second bad date of Christmas,
eHarmony gave to me:
Two Tiny Men
and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the third bad date of Christmas,
eHarmony gave to me:
Three Gym Rats
Two Tiny Men
and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the fourth bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the fifth bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the sixth bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Six Creepy Perverts

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the seventh bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Seven Ramen Noodles

Six Creepy Perverts

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the eighth bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Eight Guys a-Flossing

Seven Ramen Noodles

Six Creepy Perverts

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the ninth bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Nine Compost Buckets

Eight Guys a-Flossing

Seven Ramen Noodles

Six Creepy Perverts

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the tenth bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Ten Drunken Lawyers

Nine Compost Buckets

Eight Guys a-Flossing

Seven Ramen Noodles

Six Creepy Perverts

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the eleventh bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Eleven Backwashed Olives

Ten Drunken Lawyers

Nine Compost Buckets

Eight Guys a-Flossing

Seven Ramen Noodles

Six Creepy Perverts

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

On the twelfth bad date of Christmas,

eHarmony gave to me:

Twelve Stamp Collectors

Eleven Backwashed Olives

Ten Drunken Lawyers

Nine Compost Buckets

Eight Guys a-Flossing

Seven Ramen Noodles

Six Creepy Perverts

Five Greasy Riiibs

Four Wrinkled Suits

Three Gym Rats

Two Tiny Men

and a Hockey Fan from New Jersey.

Merry Christmas!!


tags: dating, holidays, music

Enough Is Enough

When a person runs someone over with a car, you don't blame the car, you blame the driver, right?  They were drunk/distracted/texting.  That's because a car isn't intended to be a weapon.  It gets you from Point A to Point B.  It has been misused if it kills someone.

A gun, though?  Yeah, that IS intended to be a weapon. 

Sure, it's used for target practice and skeet shooting.  But ultimately, it's meant to kill an animal/intruder/enemy/attacker.  Oh, and you can pick one up at Walmart or Kmart or any other Mart for as little as a 100 bucks -- along with pork chops and underpants.  Convenient. 

And insane!

You know what's hard to get?  Mental health counseling.  Restraining orders.  Help.

They also say now isn't the time to talk politics. Now is the time to grieve.

I beg to differ.

Of course all our hearts break over the senseless loss of ANY life, but now is EXACTLY the time to talk politics -- before this happens again.  I'm not naïve enough to think that repealing the 2nd Amendment will stop all gun violence.  It will stop law-abiding gun users, criminals will still do whatever they want because guess what?  They're criminals!  

But I do think the 2nd Amendment was written at a time when the "right to bear arms" meant defending yourself with a double-barrel shotgun from poachers stealing your land or grizzlies eating your kids and the nearest sheriff was hours away. 

This is not that time. 

Random gun violence is out of control, and our leaders have done nothing but wring their hands and stick their heads in the sand.  Think about it:  Colombine -- where 21 were wounded and 12 killed -- happened over 13 YEARS ago. What have we learned?  What have we fixed?

Nothing.

• 5 months ago, a man opened fire in a Colorado movie theater showing The Dark Knight -- 58 wounded, 12 killed
• 4 months ago, a man opened fire in a Wisconsin Sikh temple -- 4 wounded, 6 killed
• 3 DAYS AGO, a man opened fire in a crowded Oregon shopping mall -- 1 critically wounded, 2 killed
• And today, a man opened fire in a Connecticut elementary school -- 26 killed, 20 of them kids under the age of 10

Movie theaters?  Temples?  Malls?  Elementary schools?  The world's gone mad.

Massacres have become commonplace.  Enough is enough.

I honestly don't know how to solve this, but something has got to be done.  Quickly.  In 39 years, I have never signed a petition. 

I signed this one today.  Join me?

tags: politics

12

Sure, the apocalypse (as evidenced NOT by the Mayan calendar, but by the lack of Twinkies on my grocery store shelf), Christmas, and the dreaded fiscal cliff are all right around the corner, but I only have my eyes on one date.

12.12.12

A repetitive date like this won't happen again until January 1, 3001 and [um... SPOILER ALERT] none of us will be around to see that. 

So, it's a special day!  And 12 is a special number.  It's everywhere. 

12 months in a year.  12 hours of the day and night.  12 inches in a foot.  12 astrological signs (or is it 13?).  12 days of Christmas.  12 apostles.  12 angry men. 

But more than anything, when I think of the number 12, a funkadelic little ditty from childhood pops to mind. 

Listening to this, I can remember being home from nursery school, in pigtails and Garanimals, sitting in my Jenny chair at my little blue table while munching on a delicious (really?!) cream cheese and grape jelly sandwich. 

And grooving to the sweet, sweet sounds of Sesame Street.  Ah, the 70's.  Enjoy...





What's YOUR favorite 12?  And was today once in a lifetime or just another Wednesday?

Count the ways below...


tags: holidays, music, pop culture