Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

30 November 2011

The Saga Continues....

Dan's alarm went off at  7:00.  Per usual, he punched the snooze button in the face and hunkered back down for 7 more minutes of uninterrupted bliss.  

Except it didn't happen that way.

He settled in comfortably and pressed his backside against me.  At that exact moment, Maisy (the pug extraordinaire) scrambled out from under the covers where she was sleeping, stepped on my face, used my forehead as a launch pad and shot her stocky little body towards the bedroom window, barking like an idiot.

I started to swear at her but stopped, harkening to a faint sound in the distance that grew louder and louder as it came closer and closer.

"gobblegobblegobblegobble gobblegobblegobblegobble gobblegobblegobblegobble gobblegobblegobblegobble..."

Dan sat up.

I sat up.

Javi cowered like a girl under the covers.

Dan:  "What the fuck?"

Me:  "Holy Mother of God!  It sounds like a herd of turkeys is about to fly into our house!"

I jumped out of bed and ran to the window to look outside and what to my wondering eye did appear but a HUGE flock of geese flying so low and so close to our apartment that it looked as if they were getting ready to land.

It was truly an Alfred Hitchcock moment.

Except with geese.

Dan:  "Seriously, Dani?"

Me:  "Yes!  Oh my God!  Look how low they're flying!"

Dan:  "Seriously, Dani?"

Me:  "Yes!  Seriously!  Come look!"




Me:  "Turkeys, geese, whatever.  They sound like turkeys!"

Dan:  "Except they're not, Dani.  They are not turkeys.  And they never will be."

Me:  "Okay fine, geese.  God."

Dan:  "I thought you were supposed to be really smart."


Why do I keep doing that??  I swear to all that is holy I never mistook a goose for a turkey in California.  

I swear those assholes are gobbling just to make me look stupid.  


I'm pretty sure they're doing it on purpose.


Gobble gobble, bitch.

29 November 2011

A brief synopsis of my recent life...

Me, sick with the most horrific virus known to mankind for the past week:

Except I'm not a dude...

Me on Thanksgiving:

Again, still me... just not a dude.

Me, two days after Thanksgiving, rallying like a trooper and showing up at the Thanksgiving Dinner Do-Over (because I was too sick on the actual day):

I came for the turkey, got distracted by the wine...

Me, suffering a massive relapse about 20 minutes after my last glass of wine and for the past three days:

Still not a dude.

23 November 2011

Love Letter From My Dogs

Dear Snow-Bitch,

When you got up this morning and started squealing and dancing and taking pictures out the window because it was "snowing" we thought something amazing was going on.  We danced around with you, light of heart, happy of bark, envisioning Pupperoni and Pig Ears falling from the Heavens.  Visions of Denta Bones and treats from the table danced in our innocent little heads.

When you announced, in that perky "this is going to be the most fun you've ever had, ever!" voice of yours, "Who wants to go for a walk!!" we got soooo excited, twirling in circles and jumping up and down.

Little did we know that this....

"WTF is this "snow" of which you speak?  Does it taste like chicken?"

Would equal this:


"I hate humans..."

Always remember and never forget...

You have to sleep sometime.


Javi and Maisy

22 November 2011

Homonyms Confuse Me Two (To? Too?)

Goddamn dandelions...

Dan and I were watching something on Discovery last night and a preview for this show came on.  

Dan: *glancing at the tv then looking back down at his laptop*  "Why would that show be on Discovery?"

Me:  "I dunno... why shouldn't it be?"  (I kind of copped a 'tude because I imagine myself to be more liberal than he is, even though neither one of us "partake" in the doobage.)

Dan:  "Who would watch a show about weeds?"



Me:  "Weeds?"

Dan:  "Shouldn't that be on Home and Garden channel or whatever it's called?"



Me:  "Huh?"

Dan:  *laughing at his own wit*  "What do they do, have weed-pulling contests?  See who grows the best crab grass?"

Me:  "Honey... it's about the medical marijuana industry."


Me:  *snort*

Dan: *turning bright red*

Me:  *dying*

Dan's Vision:

Coming soon on Discovery... Weed Wars.

21 November 2011

California Brain

I have finally figured out what a large part of my problem is: 

I figured it out while I was browsing through the Big M this morning, looking for green salsa.

I have *insert music that signals impending doom*...

California Brain.

Below you will find a scientifically accurate rendition of the Female Brain.  


Upon careful study and consideration, it has been determined that the Female Brain WEST is significantly different from the Female Brain EAST.  (Or North and South.  But those aren't my problems right now.  You all need to figure out your own shit.)

While all the sums of the whole remain the same (ie: Shoes, Shiny things, Diamonds, I Told You So Gland), the gray matter surrounding all of that varies greatly from Coast to Coast.

My Moment of Truth happened when I looked outside this morning and saw that the sun was shining and there was no wind.

"Oh goody!" I said to myself.  "It's a beautiful day!"

I put on jeans, a t-shirt with a long sleeved top underneath, and my supahhhhh cute cowboy boots.  I grabbed my purse and my keys and went bee-bopping on out the door.  

At that precise second I was slapped in the face with a wall of Bitter Cold.

"What the FUCK?" I asked myself.

I started my car, cranked on the heated seats, and watched my breath freeze in mid-air.  I drove to the store, shivering, and noticed that the temperature, according to my dashboard, was 29 degrees.

How is that even possible?

Sunny + No Wind = Warm.

It is written.

I went into the store and was perusing the "ethnic foods" aisle (which consists of refried beans, canned chilis, and some really sad tortillas and "Taco Kits" (an abomination that should be illegal) looking for green salsa, green taco sauce, anything... just be GREEN, dammit... 

And that's when it occurred to me.

I have California Brain.

Certain things are a given:

1.  Green salsa will be found in every grocery store in every town up and down the West Coast.

Esta bueno...

2.  No one buys a freaking "Taco Kit."  We just make tacos, for God's own sweet sake.

3.  If it's sunny out and there's no wind, it is not going to be 29 Goddamned degrees.  

Crescent City, California... Where my heart...and brain... are.

4.  No one needs 46374895575 different varieties of pickled pork products.  No one.

WTF is a "pork tidbit"???

Hog Callin' Time at The Big M...

5.  If you ask someone to pick you up a jar of pickled potatoes, they will not be able to find them, anywhere.  Because they don't exist on the West Coast.  (I'm pretty sure there's a very good reason for that.)

6.  This is a state:

7.  This is a dot on the map:

8.  California winter wear:

9.  New York winter wear:

I don't get it...

19 November 2011

My Saturday, In Pictures


"Dani I'm SICKKKK...."

"That's right, you bastard... cough one more time.  Make. My. Day."

18 November 2011

Oh, it's ON.

I regret to inform you all that my big, sexy husband has gone from this:

Be still my heart...

"You wanna piece of me?  
(Note to self:  Blonde?  Wasn't a good idea.)

"YEAHHH!  I'm a MAN, baby!"

To this:

"Dani, I'm SICK..."

"Dani, I'm SICK..."

"Dani, I'm SICK..."

in five short days.

As previously described here, Dan came down with a cold over the weekend.   It's gotten more tragic by the day.  

Then, yesterday, I came down with his cold.

*cue theme from Jaws*

Dan morphed from pathetic weinie to Drama Queen.

This means he has had to out sick me.

Our evening has gone like this:

Me:  *coughcoughsnifffle*


Me:  *coughcough*  *aaa-CH*  (I always cut my sneezes off.  People say I have "mouse sneezes" because it's more of a squeak than a sneeze.)


Doors rattle, windows shatter, avalanches bury Alpine villages, moose and elk grazing in distant pastures look towards the east, scientists and seismologists watch a fault line develop in the Village of NoFuckingWhere, NY as Dan out-sneezes everybody, everywhere, EVER.

Me:  *snifflesnifflecough*

Dan:  *hacking up a fucking lung*

Me:  "Seriously?"

Dan:  *coughcoughCOUGH* "What?"

Me:  "I get it.  You're sick."  *cough*

Dan:  *COUGHCOUGHCOUGH* "What are you talking about?"

Sorry you're feeling like such a pussy.

Looky here what I got!

I'd like to thank the Academy...
Vesta Vayne, Blogger and Cocktail Mixer extraordinaire, chose me as one of the recipients of this prestigious award.  (It's prestigious mostly because I was chosen for it and also, because I've never gotten a blogging award before.)  Vesta blogs at the Cowardly Feminist and also recently became a published author.  Her book, Human Resources, Martinis, and Other Bad Things is, of course, FABULOUS.  You should buy it for the book description alone:  "Delores does bad things." 


Also?  Vesta created a cocktail and named it after me.  SUCK IT, Shirley Temple... Let me present the Dani-Tini!


Part of the rules of being a recipient of this award is that I need to pass it along to five other deserving and amazing bloggers.  

I have chosen:

First and foremost, the Amazing Mandi at  Everything Ertel.  She's irreverent, crafty, creative, funny, and I'm pretty sure my existence on this earth is largely to act as a "What Not To Do" for Future Mandi.  We live parallel lives, only mine is 20+ years in the future.  

Next, you have simply GOT to read this blog: GWEENBRICK.  I don't know if he reads my blog or not but that doesn't matter (even though I think we should totally be BFF) because his blog is freaking brilliant.  Gweenbrick, if you check in here and see this, please accept your award because you are a rock star in the Blogosphere.  

Next in line is the witty and fabulous Lil Tirade.  She's smart, funny, swears a lot, and buys cheap-ass wine.  How can you not love someone like that?  Plus, she didn't ban me from her blog while she was having issues with a moth infestation even after I regaled her with horror stories of my youth when my parents had to tent our house due to the same type of moth invasion.  It was horrifying, but she came out victorious.  

And of course Jo and her Bright Yellow Balloon... Her blog is truly a definition of "versatile."  She's funny, clever, sentimental, honest, warm and everything you could possibly want in a good friend.  When I read her blog I can imagine sitting in her kitchen drinking coffee and talking about everything from our periods to our children.  

Keeping it down to five is truly difficult... I never cease to be amazed, inspired, and left breathless with laughter by soooo many blogs.  But I need to give a shout-out to Front Desk Ninja.  Any person who can title a blog posting "Dear Sniveling Crackwhore" is a hero in my book.  The fact that she can face down pimps and hos in the wee hours of the night and then make me laugh my ass off about it in the bright light of day is freaking AWESOME.  That's right, girl... Mothafucker you're AWESOME!  

Actually, you all are.

And now I'm supposed to share five things that you may or may not know about me.  (This was hard, due to the fact that I over-share and pretty much tell everyone everything.  I had to dig deep into The Vault for this part.)

1.  I have one sister named Andrea.  She is two years older than I am and even though we fought like cats and dogs when we were kids, we are incredibly close and I would trust her with my life.  

2.  I play the piano and the flute.  Relatively well, actually.

3.  I was accepted into the American Academy of Dramatic Arts when I was a senior in high school but turned it down because moving to New York and beginning a career as a stage actress would have cut into my summer vacation.  I know, right?  In how many languages can one say "stupid, stupid girl".  

4.  When I was a teen-ager I was constantly told I looked like Valerie Bertinelli.  While at Disney Land when I was 16 or 17, a group of teen-age boys approached me and practically wet themselves, thinking I was her.  I did not correct them and gave them all an autograph.  Sometimes I google "Valerie Bertinelli's autograph" to see if anyone is selling it on eBay because I want to see if it's actually mine.  

Valerie Bertinelli

5.  And finally, I have nine tattoos.  I got my first one 25 years ago in Laguna Beach, two months after my oldest son was born.  My ex-husband had gone in to get one and while I waited with him, I decided I wanted one, too.  He flinched and panted and said things like, "You won't be able to handle the pain..."  Considering that two months previously I had spent five days in hard labor, I decided to take my chances.  I got a parrot tattooed on my ankle.  Afterwards I informed my Marine hubby that "compared to giving birth, it was like being tickled."  What a wuss.  

Thank you, Vesta!!!!  xoxoxoxo

17 November 2011

Saggy Boobs Are Totally The New Black

*Author's note:  I'd like to apologize in advance... this blog kind of got away from me so I just went with it.  This blog contains images that may be disturbing to some viewers.  Viewer discretion is advised.  No boobs or belly buttons were harmed in the writing of this blog.  Remember... I WARNED YOU.

I had to run to the store super early this morning because I was, of all things, out of coffee. 

I know, right??!!

I was going to make Dan go get me some last night, but he is still sick and whiny and his cold has "moved" into his chest (I'm trying super hard not to think about those disgusting little green blobs on the Mucinex commercial, because they make me want to hurl, but now, of course, that's all I think about when someone mentions that  their "cold is moving" into their chest.  Thank you for that visual, People of Mucinex.  Thank you so freaking much.)

"Which way to Dan's chest?"

So anyway, I didn't feel like going either (Top Model was on... I needed to prepare for my evening with Tyra and give myself a pep talk in case Angelea made it through yet another elimination... Really, Tyra?  Like that Ghetto Whore is going to be the face of Italian Vogue?!  GET RID OF HER!!!!!!!).  

So yeah, I had more important things to do.  Which means I had to be out and about in the wee early hours because mama ain't starting her day without coffee, yo.

Morning arrived way before I was ready for it and the knowledge that I had to crawl out of my warm, comfy bed made my caffeine addiction seem almost... cruel.  Curse thee, caffeine, and your soul nourishing, life enhancing properties!!  Course thee and your kind!

I waffled with the idea of taking a shower, making myself presentable, and then running to the store.

I decided I didn't give a rat's ass at that hour of the day who saw me, what I was wearing, and how my armpits smelled.  I wanted coffee ASAP.

I rolled out of bed, put on a sweatshirt and jeans, shoved my ugliest pair of UGGs on my feet, stuck a hat on my head, and shuffled out the door.

That's right, people...

I didn't bother with any *cough* supportive undergarments.

I went to the Big M... 


"Where's the fucking coffee, bitches?"

And I didn't care.

If it's good enough for Meg Ryan, it's good enough for me.  (And in my defense, I had on a hat so my hair didn't look like... that.  Which means I'm better than you, Meg Ryan.  Suck on it!)

"Uncombed hair?  Check.  No make-up?  Check.  Saggy tits?  Check, check, and check!"

I think I'm becoming something of a trend-setter.  People all over the world are saying, "If DANI can go braless in public, why can't I?"  


"Come on, everybody!!  Let's burn our bras and follow Dani!"  

"Quick!!  She went that way!!"

"Wait, Dani!!  Wait for me!!"

"Do you know Dani?  This was her idea."

"Dani rocks."

"Hold on, Dani.... I'm coming...  I just need to put some pants on..."

"Heeeeeeeere's JOHNNYYY!  Heh heh... Thanks to Dani, I now get more chicks than guys withOUT boobs!"

"I'm not just a member of Dani's fan club, I'm also the president."
Sorry, Michael Kors... I know I stole your thunder by coming out with the saggy boobs before you could rock the Topless Protruding Belly Button.  Better luck next year.

"Curse you and your sagging tits!  CURSE YOU!!"