Felice Compleanos a Santiago!

or Little Jimmy McParkway turns 30!?!

Okay, so today one of my favorite people and KD co-hort in craziness turns the big 3-Ooooooh!

30. I remember 30. When I turned 30 my boss started asking my opinion about work-related issues and I remember thinking, "What the eff are you asking me for? I'm just a kid, for Pete's sake." I still feel that way, but now I'm far from being a kid, so I kinda have to actually KNOW stuff. Crap...

Anywho, you know how Golden Retrievers are irresistibly exuberant, lovable and can't judge the size of their paws? That's Jimmy. He's our adorable Golden Retriever, especially the paw part. His feet are ginormous, and he's always tripping or knocking into something during the show.

Here's a video reenactment of one such incident.

HaHaHaHaHa!! OMG! That thing makes me "Liz" every time.

Jimmy MacP is a ton o' fun to work with. He's completely irreverent, extremely witty and a huge proponent of the whole "That's What She Said" thang. You would not believe the mileage we got out of his report on an accident at the corner of Dick and Pflurg Street. I mean, come on! That one was a gift from the Traffic Gods. Who could resist that? Seriously. Even he cracked up on the air.

Plus he doesn't mind dancing with us dinosaur dames.

OMG! I just realized the ticker in that photo reads "seven companies receiving aid from us.." No wonder the economy is tanking. But I digress...

There are so many hilarious things that happen during our grueling three hour morning show, most of the it stems from his corner of the studio. And then there's the between-show antics...

Jimmy penned that one "Absolute Ball Room". HaHa! Yeah. I miss him when he's on vacation. It's just too damn quiet, you know?

So here's to you, my zany playmate, my cohort in crime, my Hoola Hoop hombre. May you stay forever young. Luckily, I don't think that will be a problem for you.

XOXOXOXO and a big, fat smoochero!!

Now blow out the damn candles, and cut the freaking cake already.

Random Girlie Happenings

or Yeti gets a waxing... you've been warned

Girl Talk, Part One:

Okay, so last week I started to get that old I-don't-feel-so-comfortable-in-my-peepee-region sensation. You girls know what feeling I'm talking about. The one where you have the urge to tinkle a little too often and when you start it kinda burns a little and ultimately your pee hole opening feels like it's the size of a dime and flapping in the breeze.

Yep. You're in UTI Country.

That would make an awesome sweatshirt logo, no. NOT!!

For those lucky bastards who are unfamiliar, UTI stands for urinary tract infection and it's hideous!! Besides having the urge to pee every 10 minutes, you just cannot stop squirming in your seat because absolutely no position is comfortable! Grrrrrrr!!

Sometimes my gal pals and I refer to this as an IRS, or "itchy red snapper". But that term is usually reserved for an issue in a different girlie-girl region, and fodder for a hole different post. I said "hole". That should give you a location clue.

Anywho, I thought I caught it early enough to combat this prickly invader by chugging gallons of cranberry juice and other fluids. But alas, the Emperor E-Coli would not be dethroned without the aid of my regal relative, Auntie Biotic.

So I trudge my irritated ass to the nearest Medi-Fast clinic. Forty-five minutes later I emerge armed with not one, but two drugs to oust this interloper. (P.S.: I can't say enough good things about these clinics. They are AWESOME! Clean, quick AND they fill most prescriptions on site.)

One of the prescribed pills turned my urine completely nuclear. I am not kidding. It was blaze orange. Blaze Freaking Orange!! What's that crap made from? Uranium yellow cake?!? Seriously. It startled me every time I got up from the loo. It was so vivid I actually contemplated taking a picture of it, but then that seemed a little too gross, even for me.

I know! Imagine that. Hard to believe coming from me, right? Who knew I actually had a "too-gross-to-share" line to cross.

I'm happy to say I'm feeling better now. The one-two punch of meds showed that Mother the pavement. My stream is still florescent yellow, but at least it's back to yellow.

Girl Talk, Part Deux:

Okay, so let me just say this: I am a big baby when it comes to pain. A walloping wimp. A complete candy-ass.

That said, a couple of months ago I decided to venture further into the land of crazy-shit-women-do-to-disguise-their-inner-yeti and have my armpits waxed.

Yes. Hot wax. On my armpits. Joy.

I thought I'd give this a go because, as you know I am a Sasquatch, and honestly I'm tired of looking like (to coin a former colleague's phrase) I have Buckwheat in a headlock.

I'll wait a while for that visual to sink in...

So I go to my grooming girl, Ang. God love her. The horrors she has seen... Anywho, she leans me back, loads me wee armpit up with warm, chocolate wax, rubs the linen strip over the wax, warns me again about the inevitable pain to come and with one quick move...

RIIIIIP!!

*GASP*

*blink blink*

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

I could not stop laughing. What the Hell? Don't get me wrong. It was painful. Shit YEAH it was make-your-eyes-water, Good-Lord-is-that-blood-splatter? painful, but I could NOT stop laughing. I think I scared her. She probably thought I snapped a twig or something. But seriously, all I could think of was this scene from 40 Year Old Virgin:

I've had two more waxings since. I have to admit, the post-rip stinging kinda feels ... invigorating. Wait... what? I know. Weird, right? I'm sorta scaring myself now. But my skin stays so smooth for so long. It's kind of addicting, especially for a furry femme who goes through razors like Paris Hilton goes through men.

But rest assured. I will NOT be getting my "Betty Ready" any time soon. Those chicks are freaks.

I Need An Old Priest And A New Priest

or mixing it up with Mephistopheles

Okay, so on my way back from the odyssey that is grocery shopping, I pulled into the gas station to fuel up because I was basically driving on fumes and borrowed time. The store in which I shop has this discount fuel perks thing going on where you save so much off a gallon of gasoline with every $10 you spend on food, non-perishables, Phillipino house boys...

Anywho, my afternoon visit netted me a whopping $.62 off each gallon, and I was primed to cash in on that baby. So I pull up to the pump, open the gas cap and turn to punch the numbers from my card into the pump in order to get my discount...only the prompt read "swipe payment card or fuel discount card".

I don't have a discount card with a magnetic strip. Instead I have one of those ubiquitous key fob tabs with a UPC code. However I have to punch the numbers in because none of the genius station owners bothered to install a UPC reader on their pumps. Which leads to the question, what the hell am I supposed to do now to cash in on my discount?

Then I noticed a small square box with the word "yes" next to it at the bottom of the screen. Okay. I'll bite. What could it hurt, right? I tapped the yes box. Up pops a prompt reading "swipe your discount card". So I start typing the numbers from the back of my key fob and hit enter.

"authorizing"

I wait... and wait... and wait.

Finally the screen spits out the phrase, "InvalidentryYoumustreenternumberorconsu..."

What the ef? It didn't even finish its own thought. So, thinking I punched in an incorrect number, I try again. Same result. Nada. So I try one more time because clearly, I am a slow learner. This time I get:

"Invalid entry, Loser! Did I ask you to punch in the numbers? NO! I asked you to swipe your damn card, Monkey Girl!"

Hey! Hey! Hey! There's no need to get snarky with me. Fine! I'll just swipe my credit card and only buy a few gallons of gas. I'll show you.

So I swipe my credit card and lo and behold, up pops the prompt "would you like to use your fuel perks, hmmmm? yes or no"

Hellz yeah! But just as I was reaching to hit the "you bet your ass" button, the screen cleared leaving me with a "Psyche! Too late! Choose your octane & get moving, lard ass."

That's when I started to suspect this particular pump was possessed. Beelzebub was slumming at the Sunoco and dicking with me.

Thinking I was onto this demon's evil game, I cleared the screen, swiped my card and waited--finger poised ready to strike the "yes" option with break-neck speed.

Swipe...prompt...pounce!

AHA!! I've got you this time, you son of a biscuit eating bulldog!

"HaHaHa!! Don't make me laugh! I can't believe you fell for that AGAIN!? This is just too easy. You really are dumber than a box of hammers, aren't you? Get a move on, asshat. Pump your stupid gas and get out of here. I grow tired of your slow-witted nature."

Shut up! You are so mean. Gaaaaawd! Did you not eat lunch, or what?

Feeling like a total loser, I pump my 3 gallons and replace the nozzle. Then in its sweetest Southern drawl Lucifer's screen asks:

"Would you like a receipt? Yes or No"

*Sigh*

I paused, thinking "Pfft! Like I should believe a word you say." But, of course being the complete stoopid jerk I am, I bit once again. There were printing sounds emanating from the machine. Seemed hopeful. Then out spits this receipt:

That's right... Blank. Completely blank. Oh give me a freaking break! Of course! That is just perfect! Seriously?

Evil laughter echoed around me. I had been pwned once again by the Spawn of Satan inhabiting the gas pump. It was so absurd, even I had to laugh.

You won this round, you Devil in douche bag.

And There Is No Joy In Blitzburgh

or an all-too-soon farewell to a hockey season and beloved arena

Okay, so last night was the seventh game in the second round of the Stanley Cup finals. Being the higher ranked hockey club, the Pens had the so-called home ice advantage. Generally, that's a huge plus, providing priceless momentum for a team.

Last night...not so much.

My beloved Boys of Winter, lead by the quintessential White Knight that is young Sidney Crosby, fell to the Montreal Canadiens by a crushing score of 5-2. It was a hard-fought contest. Our lads battled back with every fiber of their being, but alas...it was not in the cards for them to prevail. So closes another chapter in the Penguin franchise...

And with a long linger at center ice, sticks raised in recognition and appreciation to the fans for their never-ending love and support, the Pens said a teary goodbye and closed the door to their silver-domed home for the last time.

Ironically the Pens ended their tenure at the Igloo the same way it began decades ago... dropping one to the Habs. Poetic don't ya think? Yeah. Sometimes poetry stings a little.

What will happen to this unique retractable-roofed residence is still anyone's guess. All that's for certain is next year the Penguins will be the proud owners of a brand-spanking new, state-of-the-art facility built a stone's throw from the grand dame... close enough to mockingly shake its shiny, nubile TaTas at the old gal.

Bitch.

I know. It's just a building, but it is so cool. The roof OPENED revealing this treat, for Pete's sake!

It makes me sad to see it relegated to the scrap heap. Besides, it's 50. I'm 50. I think I'm taking it personally. We both have a lot of life left in us, dammit!!?!

Au Revoir, Civic Arena (yes. I prefer to use its maiden name). It's been a fun run. You have served us well and your grooviness will forever be in our hearts.

In the words of James Cromwell, "That'll do, Pig."

Come Again?

or apparently I'm being chased by dingos. for realz.

Okay, so five nights a week I head up to bed hours before Geo, because, you know I had the misguided notion long ago that I just had to work in television for a living, which as you also know is a 24/7 bidnez and I drew the not-so-short straw to toil at the hours-before-the-butt-crack-of-dawn shift of 4:15am. Ergo I even have to go to sleep before the tiny tots in the neighborhood are forced to slumber, which is kinda humiliating because those tykes taunt me, mockingly shake their pacifiers and diapered bottoms at me and call me a pussy.

Them toddlers are mean SOBs, y'all.

Anywho, I have been known to snore a bit, chuckle and occasionally utter a non-sequitor or two when Geo finally crawls beneath the sheets. Once I looked him square in the eye and said matter of factly, "but you have green beans coming out of your nose." HaHa!

Forthwith is last night's comatose conversation:

Me: (mumble mumble chuckle)....the dogs

Geo: Which dogs?

Me: The ones with the legal wallpaper in their hands...

Soooo...yeah. Apparently my subconscious is being chased by dingos with a penchant for redecorating poorly.

At least I'm not as off color as this British Sleep Talking Man. Next to this guy, I'm a nun.

In Which Time Flies Faster Than I Can Process

Today my niece Regi graduates from college. She has crammed an unfathomable amount of studies into the past four years. She's been living at a sort of hyper speed for the last three trips around the sun, splitting her attentions between several varied departments of study. In the end she has earned a Bachelor's of the Arts and Bachelor's of Philosophy along with a handful of certificates in Japanese/Japanese studies. Whew!

I could not be more proud of her.

Not so long ago, when Reg was 10 months old her mother (my sister) had to go out of town for work. Geo and I got to watch this smiling bundle of absolute heaven for three days. One night while I was feeding her her nightly bottle, she looked up at me with her enormous deep blue eyes, gave me a big ole toothless smile and let fly with a huge, full-on belly laugh. You know the one I'm talking about, it emanates from a cherub's adorable little toes and rocks her entire tiny baby body with pure unmitigated joy. It's completely irresistible! We spurred each other on, laughing about nothing for about 20 minutes until tears were flowing from both of our eyes.

And that's when I fell completely in love with her.

Seriously. Look at that smile. How could that face not melt your heart and make you want to shower her with love and kisses and ponies?

These are some of my favorite pictures of her as a tot. They make me laugh out loud and warm me to the bone.

I don't think I could care for her more if she was my own kid. She was always a happy child, full of life, laughter and elan. She has maintained these qualities throughout her young adult life. We bonded that evening, and she has been a constant ray of sunshine in my world from that day forth.

Now she's all grown up and starting her life's journey. Sure she doesn't know exactly what she's going to do, but she's smart--really smart and courageous and willing to take a chance to follow her dream--whatever that turns out to be. She'll figure it out. I believe Regi can achieve anything she sets her mind to. I have no doubt she will succeed beautifully.

So one chapter ends, turning the page for the next. This is a bittersweet day for me. Reg is young, beautiful, hopeful, unafraid and unattached. She can cast her net wide and spread her wings to freely explore the numerous opportunities this crazy blue planet holds for her. I'm excited for the little girl who stole my heart, but sad for us. She'll be moving to Japan in July to teach English with the chance to apply for a business position that will make her stay long term. When she leaves this time... she'll be gone for good. We likely won't see her again for a very, very long time. Thank God for skype, right? At least we'll get to see her vibrant face over the interweb.

*sniffle*

So here's to you Reg. Go forth and knock the socks off of this effing world! Remember: be safe, be smart, be kind, be brave, be happy, be true to yourself... and wear sunscreen. And most importantly, don't forget you are loved and always, ALWAYS have a home to return to even if it's just to recharge between adventures.

I love you with every fiber of my beating heart. Miss you already...