sometimes

i have the urge to throw eggs out of the window at loud people/tourists/asshole-y jerks on the street below.

also, i've often fantasized about carrying a carton of eggs in my bag and chucking them at people who drive like a-holes.

do you feel me on this?

planning nostromo's fate

This is a picture of a conference room during preparations for another major pitch my agency is about to begin. Tell me that doesn’t look like an evil corporation in the not-too-distant-future planning world domination.

Not to mention the fact that 3 of the 5 people in this picture have British accents.

So you know if a bloodthirsty alien gets on board the spaceship, they’ll demand the alien be brought back to earth for study, considering Sigourney Weaver and the rest of her crew expendable.

What? Nobody remembers Alien?

that's some spicy giardia

Admittedly, we let Franny rule the roost a little too soon after saving her grubby life from those rubes in Westchester. (Ok they were nice people...I digress).

We were just so excited about our pre-potty trained dog that we relinquished control of the cable remotes and the good spot on the couch after about 2 weeks. Trust me, we tried to crate train her. We just didn't have the backbone to deal with her desperate cries for freedom. And she didn’t make us regret it for almost two months.

Then she had a little pee accident. Eh, no biggie.

Then another.

Then one or two more.

Then, WHAMMO!

She got slammed with giardia.

Now just when you think to yourself, “Giardia? Is that some delicious Italian antipasto? Is that a condiment you spread on your Polish sausage? Is it spicy? I love spicy food!”

Let me assure you, it is none of those.

In scientific terms, giardia is an anaerobic flagellated protozoan parasite. In layman’s terms, it’s a diarrhea party in our apartment.

Not only is poor Fran sick as a….a….well, a dog, she’s been ostracized by the entire canine community. Apparently giardia is shockingly, horrifically, flesh-eatingly contagious. Which means no dog park (which is where she contracted the disease in the first place, I might add), and no doggie day care. It also means everything she’s ever touched in her 10 months of existence had to be sterilized with a toothbrush.

And it means (cue high pitched violins) that we can get it.

Actually, as long as we lay off the makeout sessions for a week or two, that’s pretty unlikely. Sadly though, the poor mutt has to stay inside all day long in our 600 square foot isolation unit. We’ve been running her in the mornings to try to wear her out, and she gets hour-long walks at lunch, but still…

Anyway, I’d like to throw in a little plug here. If your dog is planning on contracting giardia any time soon, I’d suggest picking up a Flor rug. They’re super cool little modular rugs that fit together in squares, so you can clean them separately when things get…messy. Unfortunately Franny has been picking ours off one by one like a game of diarrhea breakout, so it’s time to select some new squares.

Something tells me we won’t be picking canary yellow and white next time.

letter from the editors

This blog is meant to accomplish 2 things:

1. Remind us of things we did while living in New York.
2. Tell jokes.

Not necessarily in that order. Sometimes I'm guilty of a colorful retelling of events that I find funny. I admit it. If at any point I or we offend anyone reading the blog, we sincerely apologize.

In the immortal words of every comedian who's ever lived...

They're just jokes, folks.

the perfect* saturday night =

my best canine galpal + a bottle o' wine + one of my top 5 favorite movies



*the only thing that would make it better is if K was here

eat me

Holy crap. So much going on. A lot of it taking place on the work front, but things are too unsettled to discuss yet. Exciting stuff to be covered in future posts, for sure.

Anyway, this is a little late, but I can’t go one post further without telling you about our first ever lobster boil on the fourth of July.

Let me begin by saying that this was a serious ordeal; caterers, air castle, cotton candy machine, snow cone maker, and a buffet the length of a football field. The party was being held at Kurt’s brother Eric’s place up in Milton, NY, and he was not, shall we say, making love around.

The next thing I should mention is that there were a lot of kids there. I mean, a lot of kids. Which meant there was…

You guessed it.

A clown.

The weird thing about clowns is that they’re actually people, as it turns out. They wake up in their underpants, surrounded by empty bourbon bottles, wipe the cigarette ashes out of their hair, and apply clown makeup in the jagged wedge of mirror resting on a gas station toilet. Then they clear their throats and practice saying “hi kids” in a falsetto voice, before heading off to entertain children.

I’d include one of the pictures I took of the clown in this post, but I fear he’ll google himself, see it, hunt me down, chop me up, and bury me under the floorboards. So you’ll just have to trust me that he was equal parts entertaining and terrifying.

The next thing of note is the way the lobsters were prepared by the caterers. Let me add, by the way, that I’m using the term “caterer” a little loosely. If you’re picturing a mustachioed Frenchman in a tall chef hat, you’re close. Replace the Frenchman with an ex-roadie for the Marshall Tucker Band on probation for a jet ski DUI, and you’re getting closer.

The lobster preparations began with a solemn ceremony, during which the caterers stacked the lobsters in comical positions and supplied funny voices on their behalf.

“Eat me, eat me!”
“I love to gang bang!”
“I’m a stupid lobster. Mah mah mah.”

When the preparations ended, the caterers began the process of ripping the live lobsters in half, one by one, which, in the words of one of the caterers, “is how you do it. I saw it on TV.”

Basically, they throw all the lobsters into a big pot, boil them until their shell has gone from dark brown to bright red, and ring the dinner bell. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was gonna be able to consume these creatures after just having watched their violent dismemberment. Luckily, that’s why they make beer. I had two lobsters and a large pile of macaroni and cheese.

Then came the cookies. Then the brownies. Then cotton candy. Then a snow cone. Then more beer.

Then I looked around at all the families surrounding me, and had a sudden revelation about parenthood.

Nobody’s even trying to suck in their guts.

Sign me up.

Floating Around in My Head

1. Poultry - I have another chicken commercial shoot coming up in August right when Christine will be popping out Baby Liker. I would SOOOO rather be in Chicago sniffing and caressing my newborn "nephew" than catering to a bunch of crochety clients - one of whom sadly resembles Dick Cheney in mind, body and spirit.

2. Asia - The Mister and I recently booked tickets to Hong Kong at the end of October. During that trip we're going to make our way to Cambodia to see Angkor Wat (google it, you'll be blown away) and a couple of spots in Vietnam. We are so incredibly excited to go and see/experience something totally foreign to us. But not excited to fly 16 hours in coach or leave Fran for two weeks. Oh well.

3. Goldman Sachs - Kevin has been trying to get me to care about those a-holes for awhile now. About a month ago he read an article in Rolling Stone about what a bunch of greedy jerks they are. I finally read it today after hearing that they posted a $3.5 Billion profit. To say I'm filled with rage is an understatement. Goodbye America, hello Canada!

4. Gay Marriage - Love is love is love is love. Can we please move into the 21st century?

5. Ray Ban Wayfarers. I would like it if everyone could please stop wearing these sunglasses. JFK is the only guy who can pull them off. Not even Tom Cruise.


Thank you and Goodnight!