Wednesday, November 30

Garden Statement

So I'm watching The Daily Show last night and there's a piece on the recent New Jersey slogan contest. They do a pretty funny Sopranos parody, interview the acting Governor and, naturally, someone for the counter-point. Much to my surprise, that person just so happened to be MY COUSIN- Deana Mattola! I think the correspondent called her a cutie...

Around here, they run the previous night's show at prime if your cable network programs the same way, check it out tonight.

And no, Mr. Johnson, not the entire state looks like that, I SWEAR!

*Sidenote to the story, Deana and I were friends in highschool and discovered one day that we are cousins (the conversation started, "I was born in Hoboken," "Oh yeah? Me too!"). Her grandmother and my grandfather were first cousins. Does that make us first cousins, twice removed? Or third cousins? I could never figure that shit out...

Tuesday, November 29

News Flash!

My brother is no longer engaged to DogGirl. Although, they are in Italy together....and finishing out the lease they just signed... and not seeing other people...

But she stopped wearing the ring! That's a promising sign, right?

Have I mentioned she got so drunk at my wedding that she passed out before the main course?

I am so seriously

My husband and I took my sister, her two children and her fiance's daughter (from another relationship), Ciara, roller skating this past weekend. My sister and I wobbled around the floor for the "adults only" segment so we could talk.

"Make sure she eats," Ciara's grandmother (who has custody) warned my sister, "She's been throwing her food on the floor."

Ciara, age nine, is babied by her grandmother and aunts because they feel bad about her situation. Ciara's mother is a crackwhore in Miami- no shit. I figured it had something to do with frequent temper tantrums.

"No," my sister responded, "Her mother came up," for her own birthday mind you, "and after not seeing Ciara for two years, the first thing outta her mouth was 'God, you got FAT!'"

Yeah, that's what happens when you actually feed a child -you strung out nob gobbler! And believe you me, the kid is nowhere close to fat. She has some pre-adolescent chunk on her, but nothing teenage hormones won't eventually take care of. But again, the first seven years of the kid's life, she survived on Top Ramen and Wheat Puff cereal while her mother spent child support money on dope. Ciara's metabolism is all outta whack.

People never cease to amaze me.

In my father's retirement community, there is a recreation center with eight pool tables. After Thanksgiving dinner, we headed down there for a few games. Only our family was there, right, and this resident, Richie, comes in with his autistic thirty-seven year old son to watch. My father rolls his eyes. They sit for a few minutes, not saying anything, then leave.

"I hate that guy," my father disclosed the second Richie walked out the door. This struck me as odd since the last time we were there, Richie showed up and my father merely noted he was a jerk and left it at that. Now he elaborated, "I was here with three other guys and Richie played pool with one of his friends. The six of us are the only ones here. Richie decides to step out for a cigarette and says to his friend, fairly loudly, 'Louie, keep an eye on my stuff.' So I step up, 'What exactly do you mean by that?!' And he stutters, doesn't really answer and leaves. Next week, we're all in there again and he has to leave for his AA meeting. He says, 'I'm going to pray for everyone here, except him,' and points to me! So I say, 'Yeah? Fuck you, asshole!'

This guy must be out of his mind. My father works out three hours a day, every day and has numerous trophies for senior body building competitions. And obviously a hot-headed Italian (apple doesn't fall too far from the tree). He can kick the shit out of men half his age, nevermind that geriatric alcoholic prick.

Monday, November 28

I know what you're thinking, "Did she fire six shots or only five?"

You always remember your firsts. Joe Catalano my freshman year. A corn dog at age eight (raised vegetarian until 12). Kool and The Gang at Six Flags Stadium. Escorted into the Ale -n- Wich pub at nineteen.

And yesterday will prove no exception. The in-laws hunt. At my second Thanksgiving table, new family members whispered, then turn to me, "Amber wants to give her new aunt a thrill. You ever shot a gun before?" Naturally, I answered truthfully and it was on! All of them were packin', too...

My brother-in-law and his daughter set up a target and pulled two rifles outta the car- a .44 and 270 with a scope. With the appoximate size of 300 yards away, I hit the buffalo with 50% accuracy (six rounds) and once in the "kill zone." But once is good enough, no? So now I'm like- I shot a rifle, my shoulder is sore a little, the power is a little scary, whatev.

I turn around, and there's my father-in-law standing with his .44 Magnum Revolver, "You wanna try this?"


I'll be damned if that shit didn't make me want to run out and join the fucking NRA yesterday. My estrogen took a back seat right quick.

Now, I'm in this weird funk. It's all I can think about. SO scary and SO exciting. To become a more proficient marksman- you need to own one. The dilemma: I told my husband no guns in the house (before yesterday, obviously).

However, like a young Mike Tyson, dripping in gold, walking down the streets of Brooklyn at 2am, I'd leave the doors unlocked- daring someone to step inside....

Wednesday, November 23


"Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?" is on the radio right now. It's one of the many songs that is RUINED for me. Why, you ask? Because someone put it in a movie at one time, and all I can think about is that damn movie! This in particular, Alexis Arquette in The Wedding Singer. I also can't listen to "Tiny Dancer" without thinking about Kate Hudson's bare breasts...

But that's not what I wanted to write about. I am PSYCHED for King Kong! Love that Peter Jackson guy- he directed a movie with one of my favorite quotes, "I KICK ASS FOR THE LORD!" (no, not that Rings trilogy).

Anyway, I want to take my father to see it because he saw the original. Let me repeat that: He saw the original, when it came out, in the theater. My dad is fuckin old. (But looks awesome- works out three hours a day) He said it scared the shit out of him and he couldn't sleep for a week. Growing up a stone's throw from Manhattan, that's a viable fear for a child. Looking back, the effects are laughable (so is the '76 one, for that matter) but that was cutting edge stuff...

I guess you tend to overlook that sort of thing for nostalgic reasons. That's why I'll always have a soft spot for Clash of the Titans.

Thursday, November 17

Kvetch Time

Uh, what the fuck is up with the spam in my comments?! You losers have nothing better to do than post crap on people's blogs?! How fucking pathetic is that?! Yeah, I understand everyone has to crank out a living somehow, but sell it somewhere else. My readers carry less that $15 in cash.

Speaking of livelihoods, I'm officially disenchanted with my current job. I have done a total of 0 hours work today. My ass is killing me. Their reason for hiring me, the manager was putting in weekend hours, they were so overloaded with work.

Here I am, and suddenly all is quiet on the Eastern front... And being I believe in a day's work for a day's pay, I'm constantly asking co-workers, "Can I help you with something? Anyone need any help?" "No, no," are the inevitable replies (followed by comments hours later, "I'm totally swamped!"). Whatev.

This is a cut-throat comapany- all about the numbers. You have to make a weekly dollar quota- $3000 worth of business per individual. So you know no one's giving up the orders!

It's Thursday, and my spreadsheet has a total of zero dollars and zero cents. So today, I've developed a new philosophy: I'm going to stop looking like a jerk and work on my latest feature-length movie. It involves a bit of research and since I have nothing but time on my hands and the world-wide web at my disposal; why the hell not, m'kay? One of two things will happen, either I'll get laid off or they'll start giving me some work. Either way, I'll get a screenplay out of the deal, and be paid to write it in the interim.

Wednesday, November 16

A Man After My Own Heart

Check out this article. Pajiba does these great little reviews. This one happens to be about Arrested Development (evens mentions how we evolved from monkeys!) and how The Fox Network is run by a bunch of fat-heads who are apparently letting this show fall by the wayside.

It reminds me of that scene in Natural Born Killers, when Robert Downey Jr.'s character is in the control room with his editor, "Repition works, David. Repition works, David. You think those nit-wits out there in zombie land remember anything? It's junkfood for the brain."

Thanks, Middle America, for not knowing a good show if it kicked you in the keister. Although I shouldn't be surprised- you voted for Bush.

Thursday, November 3


My husband watches a lot of football (I pretend to be interested). And he's head over heels about the new couch coinciding with the beginning of the season. His favorite team- Dallas Cowboys. Like most American Boys- his love for the team started with the cheerleaders, and just carried over into adulthood. Naturally, his all-time favorite player is Emmitt Smith. Apparently, he holds some sort of rushing record or something(again, pretending to be interested).

So I figure for our first real Christmas together (last year was spent packing to move), an ideal present would be a Cowboys Jersey #22...(men reading this are already snickering).

Cavalierly the search began, growing increasingly desperate by the day -not so easy to come by. And then I remembered an old standby- EBAY!!! Everthing's on Ebay!

In a week's time, I've been outbid five times (and not cheaply, either, I may add)!! Christ in a Codpiece! You'd think I was bidding on Jake Gyllenhaal's used panties!

With Mercury beginning it's retrograde, the time to act is now.

Yes, I'm into astrology big time. Which Monkey Woman at my job sternly warned our 18 year-old part-timer to, "Stay away from that realm." Interpreting the galaxy's movement is the work of the devil, I tells ya!

An-t-way, I bit the bullet and did a "pay now" for a solid hunny. And I didn't even blink. He'll wear it out.....just like I hope he does me after opening it :D