Fat and Skinny are PEOPLE TOO.

I am drunk, and you are not. I just watched this news story in which one twin killed the other, and the newscaster reported their names as "Fat" and "Skinny", and I had to wonder if that was real, and then I laughed but then felt bad because one of them is DEAD but why the hell would they call them "Fat" and "Skinny", let's use real names here, people. Also, the newscasters in the evening are a married couple (on the older side) and I'm just waiting for the one day when the old man newscaster looks over at the old lady newscaster and says, "Damn woman, you look DAMN GOOD right now!". That probably won't ever happen, but it's funny to think about.

I'm DRUNK.

Stupid!

I just wrote an e-mail to someone whose last name is Keller, and I called her HELEN. Her name is not Helen.

Have a great week!

Last night I sat down and made a list of all of the things I need to do between now and Friday night. ("List your work, work your list!") And it ain't pretty, my friends.

I'm hosting my family for Thanksgiving, so last night I made a menu, and a hefty grocery list, and got my happy ass to the grocery store at 10 p.m. Which was the most perfect time in all the world, because the aisles were annoying-human free and I breezed in and out. Then I came home and made mini pumpkin muffins for an office. At midnight, when I was waiting for the last batch of muffins to finish, I thought, "Who the hell am I? With my full pantry, mini muffin scent wafting through the house?" And then I had a rum and coke just to balance out the elements of my world.

I've got a corporate event tomorrow, and another one on Friday. And houseguests from Wednesday night through Monday.

Here's a little recipe that will keep me sane this long week and weekend. I share it because I love you. SO DAMN MUCH.

I like to call it, "Even HOT WINE Is Good, Bitches!":

Serves 12 (but you know I'll be doubling this shit up)

4 oranges
Bottle of whole cloves
1 gallon jug apple cider
3 cinnamon sticks
1 1/2 cups light rum
4 cups red burgundy jug wine

1. The day before you'll serve the wine, or early on the day of your event, stuf the oranges with whole cloves. Just stick them in like little nails. Stick the cloves into the oranges in some kind of pattern, or fit them tightly all over the rind.

2. Two hours before you'll serve the wine, put the oranges on a cookie sheet and bake them in a 350 degree oven for two hours.

3. Meanwhile, measure 2 cups of cider into a small pot. Add the cinnamon sticks. Bring the pot to a boil, uncovered. Turn down the heat and simmer for 5 minutes.

4. Pour the boiled cinnamon-cider into a big pot.

5. Pour in the rum and burgundy. Keep warm while the oranges are baking.

6. Drop the hot oranges in the warm wine. They should sizzle, then continue to add flavor as long as the wine mulls on low heat.

7. Set out cups and a ladel and let guests serve themselves. (If they can get past ME.)

You can also keep the wine warm throughout your party in a crock pot or in a large electric coffee maker.

Plus? It makes your house smell SO DAMN GOOD.

Have a great holiday. I'll see ya on the other side.

Hi.

Weekend goodness included a huge four-OH!* birthday party for my brother, and new office furniture for me! Winners all around.

Busy busy day - I have the world to save, you know. What, you thought you could do it alone?

*We weren't allowed to say forty, we had to say four-OH, with the OH being all orgasmic and shit. This was after many tequila sunrises.

Dork Love

If you haven't stopped by Dorks Don't Rock, you are missing out on the funniest blog out there. EVER.

While his comics are funny, his writing is unbelievably hysterical.

If you want to see what I mean? Read these:

Some days my job makes me want to roar

Wednesday to you, dorks

Brent's porn adventure

Brent's Mom's spaghetti is really, really good

So very funny.

Monday's Daily Brady Pic

Write a caption for the following picture, and I'll MULL IT OVER and determine which makes me laugh the hardest...and use it for Monday's pic. Do it up in the comments.

Kookie.

This morning I woke up and went about my business quietly around the house. About an hour ago, I realized I hadn't spoken outloud yet, and I was wondering if my voice was still all fucked up and scratchy. Did I need to make any phone calls? Not really.

So I sat at my desk and said, "Hello...."

Couldn't tell. What does one say when they want to talk outloud just to check their voice?

I sat there and thought about it. Started feeling stupid.

So, I went to my dog. "Hi, doggie. Hi DOGGIE? HI there, doggie. Cool, I'm good."

I have about thirty people coming over this evening. My cleaning lady's coming this afternoon to help me out, so I am not really stressed out about it, which is amazing. I hardly stress at my events, unless they are in my home. Which as I said, this one is.

You know I hid Flipper like he was Anne Frank or something. I'm all paranoid that way. Like, why would people go through MY DRAWERS in my BEDROOM, not possible. But that wasn't good enough for me. I had to wrap Flipper up and disguise it, and THEN hide it in something to be put into something else.

Obviously, I need help.

Snarkywood

In lieu of an entry, which I can't possibly write because I've got 1400 things to do before my event tonight, I'd like to point you over to the latest episode of Snarkywood:

Laura Ingalls Gets Even Wilder!



I spent about AN HOUR AND A HALF this morning trying to come up with funny comments - for my friends Amy and Martha had already written their brillance and I was a-strugglin'. Those girls are FUNNY! It's tough work to try to pony up!

It's a funny one, go read it.

Garble

The cool thing with having a strained/squeaky voice is that people feel sorry for you. I'm feeling much better, but I still sound sick.

This worked to my advantage this morning in a meeting, in which I was not really in the mood to talk for a long time in front of a large group. I started, but then my voice started to give out. So instead I got a lot of sympathetic looks and "oh poor baby"s. Weee. Of course now I have to write the longest e-mail known to man to try to explain what I was going to be talking about, but at least I don't have thirty-two faces staring at me while I do it.

It also enables me to only have to leave short and sweet voicemails. Which is what people should be doing anyway. I don't know what it is about talking into a voicemail (which feels like a huge blank void), but people tend to go on and on and on and on. Not me, man. I'm all, "This is Me, here's my number, call me back."

Or we could all be like my Mom, who likes to leave very dramatic sounding messages. "Please call me back, I really need to talk to you!" Or her other personal favorite, "I need to tell you something". Really? That's a new one. I guess she thinks I'm not going to call her back, even though I always ALWAYS do. It's like a bribe, I think. "If you don't call me, I won't tell you something."

That probably made no sense, and you probably have to know my Mom to know how annoying that is.

I may have mentioned this before, but my Mom is also really awful on AIM. She doesn't understand that it's basically a conversation...she will write PARAGRAPHS. And ask like nine questions in each one. She doesn't understand, no matter how many times I've told her, that you can ask ONE question at a time. She treats it like e-mail. Also, when she's about to sign off? She SIGNS her instant message. "It's been nice talking to you, Honey. - Mom." That actually cracks my shit up. Like, who have I been talking to all this time? Oh, right, MOM.

When I first set her up with AIM, I forgot to turn the sounds off. So, like two months later I'm walking by her home office and I hear the little "door slam" when I'm passing. I said, "Oh you're on-line." She said, "Yeah, I don't know what that noise is though. And sometimes? There's this really haunting sound - kind of a creak, it's very scary." Haaa, that's when people (her buddies) sign on to AIM. Oh man, I was cracking up thinking she was scared shitless for two months. I love her.

Oodles and oodles of work to be done today. December is my busiest month all year, for obvious reasons, so I've got my work cut out for me.

-New Jan Brady

Rounding the corner

I'm doing better. Not as much hacking. Or scowling.

I was a little social butterfly this weekend, even with my cold. For I am a TROOPER.

Friday afternoon I went BOWLING with some girlfriends. If that doesn't say, "F-U, COLD!", I don't really know what does. Or maybe it says, "You went BOWLING? You really AREN'T feeling better! You're delirious!"

The place went all old school - you remember at the skating rink how they used to turn off all the lights except for like black lights, lasers, and that spin ball thing that would spin those little eye shaped disco lights all over the place? "Slow skate!" Yeah, it was like that. And all the balls glowed in the dark. That was a funny sentence. You could barely see, but it was fun! First game, I got two strikes in a ROW, baby! Uh huh, how do you like me now? On the score computer screen we gave each other ridiculous names. Mine was Hootchie Mama. Which was fun everytime it came up all huge on the screen. I don't think the Mom with the twin four-year-olds in the lane next to us thought it was funny. But it was tamer than Pussie Snuffinstuff. Which I'm still mad I hadn't thought of. Damn Kathryn.

We played two games, and drank beers and sang along to Guns 'n Roses. That's what you do, I guess.

After that we went to a fancy-schmancy dinner. Where two other girlfriends joined us. When we sat down at our table, drinks already in hand thanks to the friendly bartender who liquored us up while we waited, our waiter looked at us and said, "Okay, eight lovely ladies, drinks in hand already...I'm in trouble." Okay, when people say things like that? I don't know if it's cute, or if the dude is trying to placate eight ladies who may be a little on the older side. Hit them with the flattery, knowing they have the wallets to support bigger tips than the twenty-one year olds at the table next to us. Either way, we had a really great time. And nobody fell and couldn't get up.

Saturday I did a little shopping on my lonesome, and then drove out to a friend's housewarming. Which was way further away than I thought it was going to be. Yet fun, nevertheless.

Sunday morning I had brunch with a couple other friends. Eggs florentine, indeed.

Oh, and if you heard trumpets on Saturday? It's because Flipper has arrived. You know what I'm talking about.

Bleah.

I am still sick. I have the cough, the tiredness, and a squeaky voice today. I don't know what's more annoying. No wait, yes I do - the tiredness. I have become Mayor of Nap Town lately. And I ain't getting much work done.

Today some friends and I are going to play hooky in the late afternoon. We are going to order margaritas and talk trash. And watch me cough. And possibly fall asleep. Won't that be fun?

I need to feel better. This cold is BULLSHIT (which I just pronounced in my head as boo-shit). I'd like to wake up some morning soon and actually feel like getting out of bed. Almost two weeks is WAY TOO LONG. Maybe I'm dying?

I'm a boring girl when I'm sick.

Wishes

Yesterday my goddaughter turned four. I had sent her a box of goodies, and while working from the road yesterday I decided to call her to see if she was having a good birthday.

"We had cupcakes at school."

(Her Mom in the background: "Tell her what you wished for when you blew out your candle!")

"Your hair. I don't have it."

HAH! The girl has a real fascination with my hair, which I cannot explain. She loves long hair in general, but ever since she was a baby, whenever I'd hold her she would play with my hair the entire time. Sometimes just stroking it. How cute is that?

It's a rainy day, and fortunately I am in my office all day, working my little heart out.

This post is for "mature audiences".

On Friday evening, I was one of several women attending the craziest thing I have ever been to in my life. I can't tell you what it was actually called, because I don't want a bunch of google hits from it. Although in a couple of minutes I will be using words that will probably generate for me all SORTS of crazy hits. You'll see what I mean.

First off, let me say I had never been to one of these things before. For I am a delicate PROPER woman, as well as a gentle little lamb. Picturing me as a gentle little lamb now? Good.

I sort of knew what I was getting into, when I got the invitation. I was reluctant to go, but then I started receiving several e-mails from other friends who were attending, and I knew if I didn't go I would be forever labeled as The Chicken Shit.

See, this was a gathering in which women would be viewing...all things...sex related.

Do you know how many sex accessories there are in the world? I do, now. A LOT. And honey, there are things for his AND her pleasure. Things you haven't even imagined in your naughtiest of dreams.

Toni and I arrived late, and when we showed up, all the guests were sitting around looking INNOCENT and sipping wine, and listening intently to the sales lady. The hostess pointed the way to the kitchen, where Toni and I immediately poured glasses of wine the size of our heads. And when we came back to the room, and Toni immediately took a seat a safe distance amongst the crowd, I was left to take the last seat available...right next to the sales lady and her table full of sin.

Once I caught my breath and gave Toni the stink eye for making me sit at Hell's Gate, I quickly scanned the table to see that maybe it wasn't so bad after all. There were some interesting looking things on the table, but nothing that I wouldn't actually mind leaving out in plain view in my bedroom. We're talking lotions, books, pretty lingerie, etc.

"Whew," I thought to myself. This just may be a walk in the park after all.

That's when I heard the sales lady say, "So, now it's time to take a short break, and when we come back, I'll bring out the toys."

The TOYS!

"And this will also give you a chance to try the lotion in the bathroom."

I looked puzzled, and the woman next to me (who I didn't know) did too and asked, "which lotion again?"

"The (body part that rhymes with DOLORES) stimulator."

The WHAT?

I looked across the room at Toni, who was pointing at me and laughing. When she and I had gone to the kitchen to get our wine, I had mentioned I needed to use the bathroom, and would wait until there was a break or something.

I mouthed, "I can hold it."

So, during the break, women made a BEE LINE for the restroom. I awkwardly chatted with my friends and we listened to other people tease those that were in the bathroom. "You've been in there a LONG TIME, SANDRA DEE!"

Oh man.

And then? One of my friends, who I would never picture doing this in a million years, came up to me and Toni with a tub of something in her hand.

"You guys missed the NIPPLE MUNCHERS! Here, try this, it's called FIRECRACKER!" and before I could say 'what the fuck do you mean TRY THIS?!', she SMEARED A HUGE GLOB OF IT ON MY LIPS!

"Your lips are going to start tingling in a minute. You won't BELIEVE how long it lasts!"

That's when I turned to Toni and said, "I hate you."

One of my other friends read aloud from a book, and went on to tell us the nutrition factors of semen. Carb-free! High in vitamin B somethingorother.

I turned to Toni again. "This isn't happening. These aren't my friends. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?"

Women were making over exaggerated screaming noises from the bathroom. My lips were FIRECRACKER hot and tingly.

The wine was flowing pretty well by this time. And thank God is all I can say because I'm not too sure I could take what was next sober.

When it was time to sit down again, I made the smart move of stealing some lady's chair in the back of the room. Sorry, Lady!

And out came the toys. Toys that were turned on to FULL POWER and then passed around the room. And you're supposed to hold them and be all matter-of-fact like, "Ohhh...? Interesting. I wouldn't think of NEON as a natural choice."

And then you have to hold it until the person next to you is done fondling the one currently in her hands. And then you look up to see ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS holding them, inspecting them, and testing the speeds. GOOD GOD.

Can I tell you how surreal it is to be sitting next to someone you've only known in a professional setting, and then have to turn to them and say, "So Susie, how's the job? Oh, and this foot long purple thing is called THE JACK RABBIT!"

Or having to tell the sixty-year-old lady sitting in front of you, "Oh, those are cock rings." AND THEN SHOW HER HOW TO SLIP THEM OVER HER FINGERS. Yes, I did this.

Your friend asks you, while you're holding some sort of pronged and BEADED contraption, if your lips are still tingling. Why yes, thanks for asking!

And then the sales lady announces it's time to place orders! How did this work? Well, she would take you into a private room where you could order your E-Z Pass to Hell with complete discretion. One by one, I watched my friends follow the lady into the room.

I wondered to myself, how does one calmly state, "I'll take the Jack Rabbit. Do you take personal checks?"

Oh, man. To be honest? It was incredibly fun. And funny. I haven't laughed so hard and so much in a long time.

And my lips tingled for a good two and a half hours.

Plus, I went home a hundred bucks poorer.

Quandary

I've got something so damn funny to tell you guys about, but I am scared shitless to do so. I need to mull it over a bit and decide if I can do it or not.

This is one of those Comedy vs Die-of-Embarrassment things.

Who will win. WHO WILL WIN?

Why carry flowers when you can carry a BABY?

Toni and I are having way too much fun sending each other pictures of ridiculous dresses. This one made her laugh until there were TEARS:



She laughs, but you know she's calling up friends with babies right now.

You (I'm looking at YOU Liz and Stacey) can laugh at more funny dresses here. The one on the homepage still gets me everytime.

I'm feeling better!

Gorgeous!

E-mail sent to me from Toni:

"I'm really having trouble choosing a color for the bridesmaid dresses. And then I saw THIS baby, and thought - cool, all bases covered and I'll have the hottest bridesmaids in the world. Hope you likey!"



To me, it looks like the lovechild of Big Bird and ALL of the Sesame Street characters. Ho!

Sickie.

Having a cold is the pits. "Really? That's news right there!"

I go from being really hot, to stripping off layers only to be freezing again, immediately.

I sounded like this on the phone this morning with a potential client I've been dying to have call me: "Hi-b, yed dis id Dauren, dank do DOH much fo calding be!"

And followed up with this..."Yed! I can create the best event using (BAHHHCOUGHHHHHCOUUUGHHHHH)...hod on da sec....(BAAAHHHCOOUUUGGHGHHHGHHH)!"

I've resorted to only e-mail and text messaging for today.

I go from having a ten minute window of pure solid energy to dead tired instantly.

Food either sounds gross or I want A LOT right this SECOND.

My attention span goes from following CNN intently to processing thoughts like, "Socks are warm."

Fortunately, Jon Stewart is still dead sexy even when I have a cold. He's thoughtful like that.

You know what day it is.

I seriously rocked the vote this morning. Snot and all. Oh yeah, I GAVE IT to the vote.

While out and about this morning I saw lots of people in high traffic areas waving signs for their favorite presidential candidate. While I love the enthusiasm, I'm wondering how effective they're going to be swaying someone this late in the game. "Well, I watched all the debates, did my extensive research, but you know...those dudes blocking the entrance to Taco Bell?...they made up my mind!"

Last night I was watching an old Dave Chapelle HBO special, which was taped around the time of the last election. He killed me when he came around to talking about how people are so private (mostly) about who they're voting for:

Smith: So I was fucking my wife in the ass the other night and...

Johnson: Hey wait a second, who are you voting for?

Smith: Johnson! How DARE you ask me such a question! That's so...so...private! Now let me get back to telling you about fucking my wife. Please!

Funny stuff.

I'm still sick. Not as bad, but I swear I have the Black Lung! Remember Ben Stiller in Zoolander? "I think I have the Black Lung, Dad. Ka-ka-ka."

It's like that, only non-sexy.

Askew

Instead of treats, I got tricked. For I have caught a cold. And it SUCKS. Snot, snot, snotty snot. My nose is red and raw from the blowing. And the sneezing. MY GOD the sneezing.

My events went well this weekend. However, the highlight of my weekend was yesterday. Toni came over and we made popcorn, sipped champagne (she recently got engaged), and watched a chick flick in the middle of the day.

The best part was at the video store. The guy ringing us up was dressed as Superman. And he looked INCREDIBLY uncomfortable. His fake chest plate was all puffed up and his cape tied like right at his adam's apple, and he was sweating. And his...uh...package...was askew.

I was watching him try to manage the computer without bending his head down, lest he be suffocated and asked, "Are you comfortable in that?"

I heard Toni choke back a laugh.

He said, "No, not really."

When we got outside, Toni REALLY laughed. "I can't believe you asked him that!"

"Why, what's the big deal?"

"Did you SEE his package?"

"YES! But that wasn't what I was referring to! Oh my God, do you think that's what he thought I was referring to???"

"I don't know, but I was pretty sure you were going to add, "Superman, your nuts are squished."

That made me laugh for like three hours.