Come Home a Hero!*

I'll be back next week, most likely, in the mean time, Happy Holidays from this bizarre Christmas display I saw in a public restroom:

*SHOUT OUT TO HEB!

My Latest Financial Plan.

So that Mr. A, he's a frugal sort.  I'm er, not.  I love my fancy car and my fancy hotels and my Whole Foods and my Kerastase shampoo.  Mr. A loves the Best Western, lives on food he stole from his firm's happy hour platters and breakfasts, and uses Pert Plus.  (He does have a fancy car though, dammit!)

I know a lot of people who have the $50 rule in place- as in, they alert their spouse to any purchase over $50.  Mr. A and I don't have that practice.  But let's face it.  When you love Marc Jacobs and J. Crew as much as I do, you are probably making a few ill advised and above $50 purchases.  So I'm going extreme.  I'm just going to start telling Mr. A about anything I buy that isn't food or gas.  Time to grow up and all that.  I hope that I can really follow through with this plan.  And even if I don't, hopefully, it will at least give me some pause about some dumb purchases.

And now, in the spirit of uh, growing up, I present to you my first purchase which I made under this new Shopping Alert System, courtesy of Forever 21:

I know what you are thinking, but:

A.  It cost $10.80

B.  I defy you to look at this shirt for more than 30 seconds and not suddenly understand why you need it and must order it RIGHTTHISSECOND.

C.  What the fuck ever, liar.  YOU TOTALLY GET IT. 

D.  CELEBRATING MAZEL TOV BIRD.

So, as you might have guessed, Mr. A was summarily impressed, in both the plan and the purchase.

And speaking of saving money, Mr. A sometimes saves a little too much money.  In the form of:

Yes, in spite of HUNDREDS UPON HUNDREDS of lectures that the only paper allowed in this house is Charmin Ultra Soft or Cottonelle (Cotonelle now preferred due to Dirty Ass Bears marketing plan).  But after running to the store tonight, what does he come home with?*

Store brand t.p.  UNACCEPTABLE.  And what gets me is that HE KNOWS THIS.  And chooses not to follow the rules.  YOU ARE ALREADY AT THE STORE.  And like have 50 extra cents to throw around.  WHY NOT JUST DO WHAT I LIKE HERE?

So what is your toilet paper?  What is that one thing  he just won't do?

*It is to be noted that Mr. A totally picked up take out food for me this evening and even volunteered to do such.  But still. . .

I'm In New Jersey Trick.

Um, are you watching Jersey Shore?

Bobby Bottleservice - Jersey Shore Audition Tape - watch more funny videos

If not, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?

And now a random collection of photos from my iPhone.

First, this, which is somewhat related to Jersey Shore as I could see one of those morons driving this thing, which was AN ACTUAL CAR AND NOT A FERRARA PAN PROMOTIONAL VEHICLE:

Mr. A made this at Jason's Deli.  He was very proud:

I saw these Valentino shoes at Nordstrom and I have dreams, nay fantasies, about them:

You know what sucks?  Having yummy Vietnamese leftovers and having this happen when you reach for them:

I named this photo "Vietnamese Tragedy" because I am in no way overdramatic.

And lastly, I LOVE my Snuggie, but there is one issue- when you are standing while wearing, it is totally open in the back.  I've found a solution.

So yeah, this is what I'm up to these days.

The Weirdest Thing To Ever Happen. EVER.

So, I've mentioned several times on here that I do not blog about work, anything associated with work, anyone I see at work.  WORK.  OFF LIMITS!  But something so incredibly insane happened at work, that is entirely unrelated to work, that I cannot help but share.  So here goes. . .

I share an office with another person.  Our "office" is actually two rooms, but the doors between the rooms are always open, so it is in essence one big room.  The door from the hallway to the shared office, however, is always closed.  Our office is a very high traffic zone, with people coming in and out all day to access filing cabinets and such.  Because of this, I have acquired quite an ability to tune out people coming in and out all day long.  While this is certainly an excellent adaption at work, it becomes something of an issue in my personal life when I realized I have been thinking silently to myself for 20 minutes while someone is talking to me.

But I digress.

So on Monday, I am sitting merrily at my desk, preparing something for trial, there is another person in the office besides my office mate, chattering away about nothing of consequence and I am doing my very best to pretend to look interested when I am in fact not.  Suddenly, my tuning out mechanism is turned off by a rather jarring noise at the door.  The door is quite literally VIBRATING.  The handle is shaking as though there were an earthquake and the entire door looks like it is about to fall right off its hinges.  I think to myself "That's it!  Today's the day someone finally goes crazy in this building.  I'm done for!"  But instead of an armed man at the door, a person who does not work for my firm comes bounding in to chat about something.  He says nothing about the ruckus that occurred immediately prior to his entrance, so I assume he has nothing to do with it.

Until he leaves and comes back in again, entrance yet again precipitated by the earthquake in the door frame.

"What the hell?  Clearly, you have something to do with that."  I say.

"Do you really want to know what I did to cause that?"

"Obviously."

"Well, what I do is, first, I lick my palm," he says and DEMONSTRATES BY ACTUALLY LICKING HIS HAND, as I gag. 

"And then, I moisten my ass."

Office mate and I stare in ABJECT HORROR.  He rubs his now "moist" palm across his bottom.  LITERALLY.

"And then, I move my ass along the door."

And just like that, EARTHQUAKE.  VIBRATIONS!

Jaws.  Dropping.

We have no response.

He chuckles.  And then leaves, just as quickly as he came.

Office mate and I look at each other.  And burst into laughter.  And continue our work.  Because this?  Just another day at the office.

"Did that just happen?" she says.

"Is this really where I work?" I say. 

It is.  And I love my job.

Happy Birthday, Mr. A!

Happy Birthday, Mr. A!  You are my most favorite person, my best friend and I love you more than monkeys!

In Which Mr. A is Compared to a Serial Killer.

Scene:  Friday night.  Mr. A calls, leaving the firm holiday cocktail reception, which is held at a fancy restaurant. 

Mr. A:  So, something strange just happened.

Slynnro:  Yes?

Mr. A:  So I was leaving the restaurant and I asked the hostess what was the best way to get to the parking garage.  She told me to go through the kitchen, which was a little strange, but whatever.

Slynnro:  Okay.

Mr. A:  So I'm walking into the kitchen and I'm carrying the Christmas cactus I won at the dinner (???) and a waiter approaches me and says "You look like, eh....Leon!"  So I'm all what?  And he's like "You know, Leon, the film?"

Slynnro:  Because obviously you do not look like a dude named Leon.

Mr. A:  Yes.  So he says, "Sure, you like just like the main guy in the film. He is like a serial killer who wears a long coat! And he carries a plant!”  So this dude grabs a busboy by the elbow and points me out to him and they both agree I definitely look like a Leon.  The second busboy declares, "I see it. It is the jeans!”

Slynnro:  Don't they know, we've already dubbed that coat The Gentleman's Coat?

Mr. A:  They do not know.  And they will not care, for in their minds, I will always be. . . . LEON!

I'm Giving Away a $200 Gift Card. 'Nuff Said.

Head on over to the Review Blog for your chance to win a $200 (!!!) gift card from LOFT!

In Which I am IRRITATED.

As I made mention of yesterday on the fashion blog, I have had a pretty hectic two weeks, and this week isn't any better.  On top of all of my work responsibilities, I have meetings 3 nights this week, two birthday parties, two ornament exchanges, a dinner party and another get together.  Lots of these things are fun things this week, but last week?  Just kind of sucked.  All week I was under the weather, taking half days off on Thursday and Friday, a total lack of sleep due to late night vomiting, and getting behind at work.  Saturday, a day full of actitivites which forced me to get up at 7 am, and not get home until 2 am.  Mercifully, on Sunday, I was able to recover a bit and I quite literally stayed in bed all day.

I don't write about my work, and I don't write about all of the mundane things that take up my time, and I don't feel the need to justify long lapses between posts because I don't feel like I am doing anything most of you aren't dealing with, and well, the bottom line is I don't owe anyone any posts.  I assume as readers you know all of that.

And then I get a comment like this in my inbox:

I love your blog but I'm going to stop checking it soon if you don't post stuff.  Funny stories! Product reviews!  Hope things are ok, though, and that you're just blog-blocked.

Well, you know what I say to that?  Good riddance.  Stop reading then! I very much love and enjoy your feedback and comments and emails and questions.  But I don't really write this site so that you will keep checking it.  I get so much from all of you, and I hope you get something out of reading this site.  But sometimes?  I don't have the time.  The time to spend writing all the posts that occur to me to write.  I don't always have time to read everyone's blog that I would like to.  I don't always have time to comment on the posts that I do read.  And I know most all of you know that, because you have those days, or weeks, or months where you can't always participate like you would like.  But I doubt any of you, and I know I most certainly do not, expect to receive a comment THREATENING TO STOP READING YOUR BLOG BECAUSE YOUR POSTING FREQUENCY IS NOT TO SOMEONE ELSE'S LIKING. 

Because guess what? 

THAT MAKES YOU A JERK  And it's not somehow made better by saying that you are hoping that I just have blog block.  Because maybe that should have occurred to you before you left this comment.  And maybe it could have occurred to you that I have other things going on in my life that I don't write about here or on Twitter.  And maybe it should occur to you that people have jobs and lives and real life situations that sometimes prevent them from posting. 

Honestly.

So let's turn this irritation into a funny comments section, and do tell me, what is the most ridiculous comment or email you have ever received as a result of blogging?  I could really use some goodies today!