If I Ever Get Married …

(and that’s a biiigg IF)

THIS is how I want Mr. Pie to see me.

To look right past the baggy sweats.

And the scary fro in the morning and the few extra pounds and the frazzly crazy OCDin’ mess I can be.

To see that inner goddess I KNOW is there. Somewhere.

THIS is what I’m holding out for.

I don’t think that’s asking for too much, do you?

Thanks to Mama’s Losin’ It for this little blind date with Trace.

Blind Date with Trace.

Someone smells a reality show …

Facebook Shmacebook

About six months ago, I built myself a little Facebook page. I’m not exactly sure I remember why.

Wait. Yes I do. I was stalking someone. Well, not really. But kinda. Nothing creepy or bad … let’s just say it was a distant relative.

I digress.

The whole thing was against my better judgment. And now I know why.

It’s irritating.

I have totally random people coming out of the woodwork wanting to be my friend. (And in turn, gaining access to my page.) Names I don’t recognize. Friends of friends of friends. People I never really knew in ‘real’ life. Usually, they’re people who attended the same high school. Occasionally, they are people with whom I share some kind of work connection.

For instance, last week I received the following Friend Request.

I know you through [work]. I am Pooperdude.

Actually, Pooperdude, I’m not sure we’ve ever really met. I do know you’re quite the entrepreneur, with that dog poop removal service of yours. But, no, I don’t think I actually know you.

And then, once I’ve accepted someone as my friend — which I inevitably always do, because I’d feel like a ginormous, bitchy a-hole if I declined (unless they’re a total stranger, which, to me is just … weird.) — the real maintenance begins.

Here is a list of things people currently want from me.

Jealous much?

Seriously. Who has time for this? Am I the only one who doesn’t get it?

I shouldn’t complain. It’s good to be loved. Plus, it’s a little ‘pot calling the kettle black’-ish, what with this blogging addiction of mine. I suppose instead of spending my nights writing posts, I could be sending my Facebook “friends” virtual hams or something.

Maybe I’m just anti-social. I don’t think so. Maybe I’m just … 40.

Poop and Pee Pee, Sittin’ in a Tree …

MP is sitting on the potty.

“Mommy, the poop is a ‘he’ and the pee is a ‘she.'”

(gruuunt)

“They’re getting married.”

Yup.

And now you know why I’m not married.

Balls.

I forgot to include my check when I sent off my taxes April 15. Now what? Does this mean I won’t be getting my economic stimulus check this week?

Day five of the pasties, and I just found out they’re made with a HYUGE amount of LARD. I KNEW it. Anything that tasty can’t be good for you.

That’s all.

The Poll, The Poll!

Look! Look! Up there — in the right hand corner!

You have no idea how proud of myself I am! After nearly going insane, I was able to backdoor the completely jacked-up WordPress system and figure out a way to make my very own poll! Yippee!

So here’s the deal … you take the poll, then leave a comment on the poll site, telling me what SITC character you’re like (make sure to leave your URL), and I’ll randomly pick a few people to transform through the magic of Photoshop. My gift to you. Just think of the fabulous screen saver it’ll make! (Personally, I’m diggin’ myself with long Carrie hair …)

Don’t worry if you already took it yesterday — go ahead and do it again! I’ll leave the button up all month, and then display the results, along with the new blogalicious cast, May 30.

I’m so excited, I think I peed a little.

I’m even thinking I’ll give it a shot with a new and different cast each month!

Yeah, I know. I so need to get out more.

Sex in the City Countdown!

Ms. Single Mama alerted me to the news that the Sex in the City movie is coming out MAY 30!

Color me HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY!

The trailer gives a lot away, but after doing a little research, I’ve learned a small detail you may or may not have heard about. Someone dies. What?!? My money’s on Big. (Which, sadly, would be eerily similar to my life …)

I’ve wanted to try out a poll widget and thought this would be as good a topic as any to give her a test run. I REALLY wanted to place it over in the sidebar to run all month, but am quickly finding out WordPress sucks widgety eggs.

So, after HOURS of hair-pulling, I’ve learned that for the time being, all I can do is incorporate a lame link:

Yippee! The Sex in the City movie opens MAY 30! What character is most like you?
( surveys)

In the meantime, just in case the poll DOESN’T work, which is entirely possible, leave a comment as well so we can all revel in the return of the ladies!

If you need a character refresher, you can check out HBO’s cast page. And since I’m all about equal opportunity, I included some of the SITC men in the poll, if you happen to not be a member of the fairer sex. (Or, if you are a member of the fairer sex, but identify more with one of the dudes.)

What character most closely resembles you? If you were a character from Sex in the City, which one would you be?

(In case you missed the link the first time, here it is again. C’mon, take the poll. Everyone’s doing it …)

Yippee! The Sex in the City movie opens MAY 30! What character is most like you?
( surveys)

As for me, I’d have to say Carrie (Ahem. Hellooo, she IS the star.), with a little Samantha for good measure.

I’m fairly certain they don’t enjoy the GPs as much as I do though …

Apparently I’m a Figment …

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 0 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

A Lesson in Judgment

Before yesterday, I never would’ve considered myself a judgmental person. Anyone who knows me, knows I am anything but. At least I always thought so.

I stand corrected.

A few posts ago I wrote I was being sent to the armpit of the state for a two day conference. I spent yesterday, last night and today in this town, and am now humbly eating my words.

Unfortunately, because all those freak shows out there searching on ‘wet granny panties’ and ‘hot mommies’ have made me paranoid, I’ve never divulged my state of origin.

And dammit, that pisses me off.

Because I’d love to tell you about this town. Its amazing history, architecture and origin of its blue-collar culture are something I’ve never taken much time to learn. And it’s a shame, because, in a city that appears run-down to most, beats a heart filled with colorful and rich memories. Memories of speakeasies, working class Irish immigrants, and brothels that, at one point in time, made up the largest red-light district in the U.S.

It’s a mining town. A hard-drinking town. And a town filled with honest, hard-working, down-to-earth people. After decades of seeing only part of the picture, in one short day, my perspective has changed. I can appreciate it for what it is.

A place where history lives through its architecture.

Home to one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen.

Home of the pasty, a traditional Cornish lunch eaten by local miners every day, thousands of feet under the earth.

Three words. De.Lish.Us.

I bought 24 of these yummy victuals — pastry crust filled with meat and potatoes — and brought them home to freeze.

Image borrowed from these guys.

Whatever you do, just don’t pronounce it “pay-stee.”

Image borrowed from these guys.

It’s ‘paaa-sty.’ Rhymes with ‘nasty.’

(Irony. It’s a beautiful thing.)

So, my apologies, Town-That-Shall-Remain-Unnamed. You’ll be glad to know, tonight when I walked through my door, I brought with me a valuable lesson — I’m not as non-judgmental as I’d like to think. I can do better. And, as hard as it is to leave MP overnight, I’m glad I made the trip.

The enlightenment is worth more than a crappy t-shirt any day.

Now, before I log off, I feel I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the top-notch entertainment the city has to offer.

Well, three outta four ain’t bad.

My Best Nancy Drew Impression

First off, thank you Doogs for all your sweet bday wishes! The day was nice and low key, culminating in 75-minute deep tissue massage at 3:00, my favorite cold-weather dinner — Grammy’s pot roast — and a spectacular pink cake proudly decorated by MP.

Tuesday night I DID go out for a few glasses of bubbly with some co-works. It was a dual celebration as Co-work QB and I share the same day. What are the odds?

We had a little food.

We had a little drink.

And were having a most excellent time.

And then Creepy came to dinner.

Creepy sat down behind QB, and, after ordering a glass of wine, produced a small notebook. He then began to write. ‘Take notes’ might be more accurate.

Creepy appeared to be writing down our every word. I think it’s safe to say, we are Very Interesting People (VIPs).

Attempting to alert QB proved fruitless — Creepy wouldn’t take his eyes off us for more than a second. I meanwhile (being the responsible 40-year-old I am), begin taking photos, in the event there was a future need for evidence … all the while, trying to nonchalantly appear as though I was taking QB’s photo.

I think he bought it.

QB certainly did.

About this time, she figured out what was going on.

And I started to get a little concerned. I finally got a good view of the notebook, however. I also got a good look at his face. Turns out he looked suspiciously like the actor Christopher Meloni.

In a psycho killer kind of way.

So, Creepy goes to the bathroom. We peek at the notebook.

And, with the entire bar watching — who, by now, have all seen Creepy and his creepiness — I lean over and take a hurried, worried photo.

In my haste, I forget to focus.

Thus, bringing to an end my short lived Pinkerton career.

Feels Just Like Yesterday

How fast it all goes.

Happy 40th to me …

 Mommypie circa 1988