Chicken and Waffles

I flew home from Buffalo last night and while on the plane, I had to listen to the woman behind me talk about chicken and waffles.  That's right.  90 minutes of chicken and waffles.  Butter, syrup, a side of mashed potatoes, collard greens and an icy glass of orange pop.  I think it's fair to make the following assessment:  she doesn't watch Top Chef Masters.


I have been on the road since April of 2009 I would like to share some helpful hints for all you travelers out there.

1.)  Going through security at every airport in the US, one must take their shoes off.  No exceptions.  This is directed to the dumb bitch at the Buffalo Airport complaining of having her feet touch the "actual floor of the gross, dirty airport."  Really?  Maybe her head was up her own ass when 9/11 hit.

2.)  "Carry-on" bags does not equal 80 ton duffle bag fit for a 45 day stay in Morocco.
  So when the flight attendant asks you to check your 198 lb bag, don't get pissed.

3.)  A 2 hour flight is not the ideal time to try out your newest perfume.


4.)  When in a new airport (one you're not familiar with) try to walk, loiter, meander along the sides of the walkways.  Standing and staring into space in the middle of a busy corridor will get you punched.


5.)  If you happen to be sitting next to someone with their eyes closed, hands gently placed in lap, book turned over (not being read) and the shade pulled down, chances are they are sleeping.  Since this person is more than likely sleeping, tapping them on the shoulder to ask where they're from is inappropriate.

In the tailpipe

I'm off work today.... good ole Good Friday.  I love Jesus.  In celebration of the rising of JC, I've committed to the couch, sweatpants swaddling my lower torso and a hoodie embracing the top half, enjoying the ID channel (jam packed with awesome mystery shows, reruns of Dateline and psychics solving crimes). 

In order to prepare for my day posted up in the TV room, I dropped the unruly pooch off at doggy day care, purchased some much needed nail polish remover and the newest spring shade of fuschia and there ya go.  To make matters that much awesomer, I learned yesterday that our neighbors across the street FOSTER PUPPIES FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY. 

(backtrack to Monday morning)  My eyes weren't working correctly that morning.  Could it be true?  Did I just see two 6-week-old puppies jumping about on the lawn across the way?  No way.  They're too cute and way too smooshie looking.  Could it be overfed squirrels?  I needed caffeine and a slap in the face.  Flash forward to last night-- my eyes were right.  As the day is long dagnabbit, there were puppies.  TWO OF THEM.  I couldn't hold back a moment longer.  The front door was the only thing standing between me and a small gaggle of fatty peanut butter smooshies.

Every 7 weeks the family across the street gets a new load of puppies.  Fostered until old enough for adoption, the puppies are then put into permanent homes where they can grow into lovely pets.  What a kick ass job.  I can't wait to tell Kasia; she has been asking for a new sister for a month now.



I also wanted to mention that I never post up on the couch.  The past year I have been tormented by severe anxiety and struggle daily with being able to relax, sit still, lounge, do nothing, etc.  Since it's suppose to rain all day, I figured now would be a great time to do nothing.  No cleaning, organizing closets, scouring the bathtub, cooking a pot of soup.  Ziltch.  It's only 10:23 AM and already I feel like a lazy sack of crap.  I need to remind myself that there are several episodes of "True Blood: Season 2, Disc 4" to be viewed.  Stay focused Mofo.

Lafayette Coney, extra mustard please

Well, well.......  The Detroit Red Wings.  It's funny how Chicago fans yell out "Dee-Troit Sucks!" at hockey games (when they're not even playing Detroit).  It's funnier how the Blackhawks can't seem to pull through the first round as efficiently as the ole Wings.  I'm laughing so hard; I'm looking at my Red Wings jersey hanging up on my cubicle wall and literally, rolling on the ground in a fit of hysterics.  In fact, my laughter is leading me straight to a website to order a new Wings jersey that reads "Suck It Hawks" on the back.

Taco Town

Piggy-backing on Carrie's blog post for today, I am going to use this little space to vent.

I never dreamed about the day I was going to get married; the long white dress, the flowers, the sprays of blush and bashful, a polka band, etc.  When Chris and I got engaged I simply thought, "Cool.  I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend.  High five."  NOTHING in that stream of consciousness was connected to the words flower, guest room block, DJ or deposit.

I don't subscribe to the thought of weddings = family reunion OR invite all the people you are related to.  Fun weddings are gatherings of great friends, kick ass music and tasty nourishment.  There have been conflicting thoughts about who should be invited to our wedding-- I want the guest list on the smaller side, while others can't seem to see value in that.  My biggest fear is having a room FULL of guests (that I have to talk to/greet, etc) and not getting to enjoy the music, etc.

While exploring the topic of family, I want to shed light on a simple fact.  Just because someone is related to you (by blood) DOES NOT mean that you must have a relationship with them.  In normal life, when people say rude and disrespectful things about you and/or your immediate family, you write them off.  Life is too short to put up with negative words thrown at you/trash talk, etc.  A level of respect should be upheld when referring to extended family; when those three things are no longer in the mix, the relationship is over, related or not.

With that being said, why should I be expected to invite extended family members that are rude and disrespectful?  If I weren't related to them, sure as shit they wouldn't be invited.  Just something to think about.......

Cheerio breath

I cherish weekend mornings because I know there isn't a need for hustling into the shower, getting dressed..... the AM rush to work.  This past Sunday, I was awoken by the ever-so-slight grazing of certain dog's very soft right ear over my nose....  without opening my eyes, I figured it could've been a spider or Kasia.  Fortunately, it was Wonder Woman herself, all smiles and ready to hit up the dog park. 

For those readers out there that participate in your local dog park, I hope you can relate with what I am about to share. 

There are ALWAYS dogs/dog owners at the dog park that are stupid.  At the Greene Valley dog park, the Stupid Award goes to the two Australian shepherds that constantly start shit and their owners:

1.)  Never bring dog treats to a dog park.  The dogs can smell the treats through any pocket and start to act nuts for the food.  (the shepherd owners do this every time)
2.)  If your dog(s) constantly get in the middle of other dogs playing, start to bite and nip, pull them away.  (the shepherd owners don't do this)
3.)  If your dog(s) have a history of biting or being aggressive, don't bring them around other dogs.  (the shepherd owners do this)
4.)  If your dog gets aggressive when there is a tennis ball/toy being thrown around, take them to another area of the park.  (shepherd owners don't do this)

I have said my peace.  This message is to you Mr. and Mrs. Northface puff jackets and matching trail shoes with Starbucks in hand:  Don't take your stupid, mean and annoying dogs to the park anymore.  They have nipped at Kasia several times while you stand and watch.  The fact that your stupid dogs don't know how to behave among other animals is a problem-- either start disciplining your canines, or go elsewhere.  If you continue to turn the other way when problems occur, you will get a talking to followed by my foot in your ass.  I have no problem telling you "what's up."  Thank you.

I also want to mention that Kasia's best friend is a Shiba mix puppy named Spencer.  Spencer and Kasia play awesome together; mostly grappling and sniffing butts.  Their wrestling moves combined would make any WWF wrestler jealous.

No More Yanky with my Wanky

Just when you think your Thursday night is going to be the pits, someone will throw out the phrase "Royal China Buffet" and turn your whole world around.


Nearing week's end with no groceries in the fridge for a well balanced dinner, Chris and I opted to eat out.  Trying to adhere to my healthy eating during the week, I was throwing out ideas for restaurants (places that I knew served salads and healthier options).  For some odd reason we both settled on Chinese food.  There you have it:  The Royal China all-u-can-eat Buffet.

For $15.00/person, one can gorge themselves with fried everything and top it off with some soft serve ice cream.  Fortunately for me, they RCB also serves sushi; vegetarian, non-scary sushi. 

With a plate brimming with sesame chicken, fried soft-shell crab and long duck dong, Chris was in Heaven.  Three plates later, stomach no likey.

After dinner, we rounded out the evening with a little walk down to the Salvation Army.  The color of the day was yellow, so I was hoping to find some yellow leg warmers or perhaps a pleather fanny pack.  No such luck however, I did find 135 pairs of square-toed stacked boots (circa 1997) and several crewneck sweaters reading "John's Bachelor Party 1992."  Oh.... lets not forget the pair of Z. Cavaricci acid-washed jeans for $3.00.