I was kind of lost in my own thoughts...as I was driving to work the other morning...I kind of tune out sometimes when I'm driving...my thoughts focus on 2 things...the road in front of me & whatever happens to be running around in my noggin.

I must have been so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't see the flashing lights race up behind me. I pulled over cluelessly. A very young looking, apple pie faced officer walked up to my window & asked me the stupid question that they always seem to ask..."Do you know why I stopped you?" Several things came to mind...did he see the huge L on my head? Was he having a rotten day & wanted to share the wealth? Did he have a painful wedgie inching up the crack of his bum & needed a justifiable excuse to get out of his patrol car to fix it?

My answer to him was silence...so he rambled on about how going 51 MPH in a 35 zone was unholy & wrong...blah, blah, blah...whatever.

He went back to his batcar & I sat there like a tremendous goober & played with my radio.

He startled me totally & completely by coming back in a jiffy. He actually apologized for making me jump out of my paler than yours skin.

Want to know what he ended up giving me a ticket for?

He gave me a summons for having a hangy thing...hanging from my rear view mirror. He told me that it was a break...& I believed him...I'm also never taking that damn hangy thing down.

Someone suggested somehow using my garden in this week's HNT. I still have these great Zinnias blooming all over the place...so I picked one...took a deep breath...set my trusty timer...& shoved it at the camera.

I've been viewing so many great black & white HNT's...so I decided to try one myself.

Happy HNT.

I was born a poor white child in L.A. in 1975.

I went to vocational school to become a massage therapist.

I had my first child when I was still kind of a child...& told some guy that he was the father (but honestly, how can I be responsible for knowing such things...I had a very active sex life back then...so sue me).

My best friend in the whole wide world introduced me to my dream guy.

We met & immediately went to his hotel room...maybe he took me to dinner first, I don't remember...but really...does it matter?

He looked married...but he told me he was single & that was enough for this simple girl.
(If you can't trust a cute stranger on the prowl...then who can you trust?!)

I took him to Christmas parties & continued to have unprotected sex with him.
(Hey, it's my thing...what can I tell you?)

My cute stranger went off on his travels...but called me often.

One day, my cop buddy (I never slept with him...so he must be gay) told me that my cute stranger had a missing pregnant wife.

I was pissed, I was trying not to sleep with any more married men (the wife gets all the good gifts...that's what mama says anyway).

I worked with the cops to nail the lying bastard (married?! How dare he!).

A feminist lawyer glommed onto me for dear life (that bitch is BOSSY...shit).

I wrote a book (yeah right).

My dear sweet (MARRIED!!! The bastard) stranger ended up getting the death penalty for lying to me...I mean for killing his very pregnant wife in cold blood.

All of this stress was no good for my back...
So I went to see a chiropractor.
He cracked me good.
& now we have a baby son together (he wants a paternity test...but my lawyer will not allow it).

Who am I?

...& why should you care?

Doesn't this outfit make you wonder where this plastic hoochie mama is headed?

The head thing...looks sort of flapperish to me (pearls dripping from your head...I'd have never come up with that).

The bright pink sequined top looks like a male figure skater could pull that off quite nicely...can't you just see (insert a male skater's name here...'cuz I'm at a loss)...whatever his name is...doing an awesome sitspin in this top?

The skirt? I'll give her a pass on the flimsy skirt because I see them everywhere...recently I saw a gaggle of teenie boppers wearing them with cowboy boots...they looked cute...but I'd save the boots till it drops below 80 friggin degrees...but that's just me.

The belt...you likee? Does it look a bit heavyweightchampionoftheworld to you?

I'm not totally sure...but I think those 2 for $5.00 plastic shoes on the table would just be the perfect compliment for this smashing outfit.

On Saturday, we went to The Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy. We literally ate ourselves down the street (How?...I ask you...how? could that not be fun?).




Sal's been making the zeppoles nonstop for days...he takes the dough from one oversized bowl & plops it into the deep fryer...then throws some powdered sugar in a brown paper bag, slings the dough into the bag...shakes it & holy mother of God...are these things to die to...but you have to eat them hot, right from the bag, standing on Mulberry Street.



Pin a dollar (or more...'cuz you know The Catholic Church will always gladly take more) to San Gennero himself & the patron saint of Naples will bless you.



Sometimes...in a crowd like this...I begin to feel...untall.



The stuffed artichokes were pure heaven.



It's a sin to leave without having a cannoli...or two.



As we left, we walked through China town. The boys in blue were gearing up for the last night of the feast. I was thinking...yep...a perfect way to end my trip.

I saw this ad on bus stop recently. Is it just me or does it look like...
he's trying to saving her skinny not existent ass from drowning?

Yeah, I could see something kind of romantic about that...sure...why not...but...um...she already looks dead...so...what's the fucking point?

Happy first day of Fall...

& Happy HNT.

Now...if you haven't pissed me off...(& let me just say...that most of you haven't ever even come close to making me want to paddle you...I could digress about this...but I won't do it...this time...I won't)...

As I was saying (before I rudely interrupted myself)...if you haven't done anything to incur my displeasure...then feel free to take this pic. for what it's worth...'cuz I truly think it's funny.



Sorta sums up my warped view of my own personality...all homey & sweet...with hidden edge.

"The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination."

~ Albert Einstein

My understanding & sense...seem to be taking a vacation today...too bad my body went to work.

My weekend was spent hosting my 2 nieces. We had a sleepover...as they called it. It was my older sis's anniversary & she went away for the weekend. We had great girly fun...painting nails every color under the rainbow, doing hair & makeup, trying on every shoe in my closet. Every hour...on the hour...they'd look at me with the...what stupendous thing are we going to do now?...look.

Being a good hostess to kids is so different from being a good hostess to adults. At times it was like hosting a fun filled party & at other times it was like hosting foreign exchange students from an exotic faraway land.

Now before some of the parents out there get all condescending & judgemental on my ass (come on...you know you want to)...think about how you'd react to a 5 year old child, throwing a screaming, crying fit in your kitchen asking for OAK with her eggs. Keep in mind, that the child is not your child, you know & love her...but you may miss a few of the nuances that living with her day to day make apparent.

The whole...oak...thing had me thrown. Hubby was at the stove playing chef & I must have been playing harried waitress. The 5 year old screaming continued. I held out a plate to Hubby so that he could put eggs on a piece of toast...he started to put the eggs on the side of the toast (not a big deal...but the screaming made me tense)...I told him to put it ON THE TOAST...he must not have liked my tone...because he wapped my arm with the greasy spatula! WTF?...I had little time to react...but I clearly remember thinking that I was just going to go right ahead & spear him with the giant serving fork that I had in my hand. I saw myself do it, I saw the blood & heard him scream...but I'm actually a wuss...so instead of puncturing him with the fork...I wapped him right back with it...butter splashed all over the sleeve of his blue t-shirt. How fucking mature could we get?!

We finally figured out that the 5 year old wanted YOLK with her scrambled eggs...& by scrambled...she meant fried. Halleluia!

Have you ever unknowingly placed your fears about yourself onto someone else? As we sat in our kitchen, Hubby & I...papers all over the table...he was getting ready for an important interview & I was helping him sort through his research on the company. I started throwing things out there to him about not being passive in the interview, showing excitement & taking initiative.

Hubby looked at me with an expression on his face (you know the one), the one that makes you shut up immediately. He said, "Have a little faith in me."

It hit me like a ton of bricks aimed directly at my head... was I projecting my doubts about myself onto him?...& simply put...is that what marriage is...having faith in someone else?

OK...so I could barely get out of bed this morning...I did get up, run a brush through my hair, set the self timer & climb back into bed...I mean really...how lame do I have to be to miss Half-Nekkid Thursday?

All I wanted to do last night was...pick up some Chinese food on my way home & collapse on my couch. I ended up working late & I felt like someone had taken a bat to my head. Ever feel like it’s too much effort for your neck to actually hold up your head? That’s what I felt like. I could truly feel the nerves on both sides on my neck straining under the weight of what felt like my enormous lead filled balloon float of a head. I also had a river of stress traveling in a straight line from my ass to forever...directly up my spine. Let me just say...anyone who enjoys pain...is honestly a special kind of a fucked up idiot...you know...those people out there who misguidedly believe some shit about pain being closely linked to pleasure...so they go off & do foolish things like pierce their nipples...because...why the hell just enjoy the wonderful sensitive & sensual nature of such sweet spots...oh no...that would be too simple...they have to place a cold hard thing through them & experience pain...& I just don’t understand it...can anyone explain this to me?

OK, I lost my focus there for a sec. I was on my way home & every fiber of my being was calling for lo mein...so, I called Mr. Barry (because not only is he the owner of my favorite neighborhood Chinese restaurant...he’s also a lo mein god). I gave him my order & he asked me (as he always does) for my phone number. I racked my throbbing brain & came up with absolutely nothing. Did my number start with an 8...or was it a 3? Crap...what am I...in third grade...what was my number?! How can you forget something as basic as this? My over busy motherfucker of a day had knocked the info clear out of my cabeza. Mr. Barry...god that he is...understood my dilemma & gave me an order number of 89...which I was not about to forget.

I pulled my car into the restaurant’s lot...got out, dragged my tired ass up the stairs & through the door. I smiled at Mr. Barry & shouted...89! I also told him that I had brain damage. He smiled back at me...I’m sure he would have smiled back at me if I’d have said that I had just brutally killed his mother using my bare hands & a wok...his English just isn’t that good.

I drove home with the goodies & ate with solitary glee...I saved my leftovers for Hubby so he could have a late night snack after his night on the town with the boys...yeah...I know...ain’t I a peach?

I took this shot yesterday at yankee stadium.

The place was buzzing with policemen & fireman. I think they must have gotten in for free if they wore their uniforms. Security was tight. (The woman on the line to get in ahead of me had to open up her sandwich & show them there was nothing suspicious between the slices.)

Tim Wakefield pitched a complete game & struck out 12...but it wasn't quite enough to beat the yanks...this time. Wakefield matched the big ugly unit...almost pitch for pitch...it was a tense game...it all ended with a 1-0 score.

We baked in the sun in our killer 2nd row seats right behind 3rd base. Today, I'm slightly sunburned & tired...but it was worth it.

It used to be a lovely view.
This was taken on September 13, 2001.

I went out with an old friend last night. Why do some of the friends that you make while your still a teenager, turn out to stay closest to your heart?

Last time I got together with PD we did lunch, this time it was drinks & dinner. We met at a bar...he was already there...I was running late (no surprise there)...I wasn't THAT rude about it...I called to tell him I was going to be late.

PD: Oh, your going to be late? (the whole eye rolling vibe came right through the phone & hit me in the head).

Me: Yes, sorry...my deadlines got changes & blah.blah,blah...

PD: That's ok...I'll just have a drink at the bar.

Me: No, it's not ok...& I really am sorry...

PD: You're right, you inconsiderate little twit...

Me: That's better, see you soon...

PD is so cool, our conversation last night had to do with Zen, methodology. spiritualism & masturbation...not necessarily one thing relating to another. I know with some certainty that a conversation like this would never have ever happened with Hubby (we'd have lost him on methodology...he'd get that glazed over look).

It's nice to have people who'll indulge your slightly odd...or unique...(yeah...that sounds better) parts of your personality...& you can do the same for them.

PD usually send me a nice e-mail after we've gotten together, here's what he sent me today:

I had a wonderful time seeing you again. It always
goes by too fast. Let's get together again soon.

p.s. Don't know name for our group, but some themes from
the marketing literature (He thought we should start a masturbation
group...or something...odd...I know...told ya):

- Get in touch with yourself
- Learning to love yourself
- Get a hold of yourself
- Get a handle on it
- What grabs you
- Sensuality training
- Manual introspection
- Spelunking for pleasure
- Hands across a l*bia

I bought this top years ago in a funky shop that sold incense & beads (among other things) in the beautiful town of Sugar Loaf, NY. The once bright colors are now fading & the ties never seem to stay tied...but I can't get myself to part with it.

Happy HNT!

What to do...
What to do...
As I sit here at my desk
I find myself starving & lazy
I ate a big ol' hunk of chocolate cake last night
Now, all I deserve is the warm Slimfast shake in my bag
Try as I might
I'm just not getting warm & tingly in all the right places
Thinking about the shake...

Happy...Day after Labor Day. I hope everyone had a wonderful...well deserved holiday weekend. The guests I invited over for a BBQ on Saturday redeemed themselves totally & completely. They showed up at my door bearing chocolate cake...& not just any chocolate cake...this was a 4 layer baby from a bakery near their house. As they entered my house, they handed me the cake & my arms almost gave out under the weight of the sucker. The aroma of chocolate kept me going though out the day...that & the vanilla vodka shots I slugged down before their arrival (thanks for the suggestions, guys...I love you all!).

I just found out that dear ol' Hubby invited people to our house for a
BBQ tomorrow. To be fair...he asked me earlier in the week if I wanted
to have some people over this weekend. I said I was game (did I think
to question who...some people actually were?...um...no).

As it turns out...the some people in question is Hubby's friend Dan
from work. The package deal is...Dan, his wife Mary & their 2 little
girls. He also invited another couple who we know very well. They know Dan &
Mary too. They'll be the buffer couple in this little scenario. Why,
you ask, why...is there a need for a buffer couple? As an answer, I'll
offer you this:

A couple of months ago...we get invited to Dan & Mary's house for
dinner. I'd never met either of them & thought...well, isn't that
nice...I'll make a cake & we will happily go. We arrive at their doorstep, Hubby
graciously introduces me to Dan, we chat & get the home & gardens tour.
Lovely...I say as I'm whisked from room to room. We head downstairs &
Dan introduces us to his wife Mary. Hellos are exchanged, then the
doorbell rings. The same buffer couple (they'll be at our house tomorrow)
shows up & needs a tour. That leaves Hubby & I standing in the kitchen
with Mary. Mary is a blur of energy as she moves around the kitchen
fussing with food. I look at Hubby, he looks at me. Finally I say, Mary, can
I help you? She says...no. That was it...just...no. I look back at
Hubby, he looks back at me...& there we stand...feeling like two
idiots...just friggin standing there.

We head over to the family room that's open from the kitchen...Sponge
Bob is on...but their kids are outside. We awkwardly sit on the couch &
watch Sponge Bob laugh about farts...what choice did we have? It felt
like hours...HOURS...I tell you...until Dan & the other couple FINALLY
came back downstairs & broke the tension.

I have to tell you...I'm a much better hostess than that...if I see
someone begin to wither away & almost die in my house...I spring into
action & do whatever it takes to make them feel all fuzzy & warm
inside...because...damn it...it's my party...& you're gonna have fun...even if it
kills you (that's the only form of acceptable dying allowed at my
house).

I'll let you know how it goes...

Here I am...coming at you with some mighty serious bed head.

I always wanted curly hair...but...as the story goes...my mother gave me a haircut when I was a little girl...she cut every last curl off...& they never really came back.

I don't have straight hair...but then again...it's not exactly curly...I'm going with...surly.

Happy HNT!