Is There Something You Want To Tell Me Sub Conscious?

Okay, so this morning as I was stirring in that not-asleep-but-not-quite-awake state, when my sub conscious blurted out "I have no more dreams." 

???? 

What the Hell does that even mean? 

Is my mind telling me there is nothing left in my vault to create imaginary tales whilst I slumber... or is it something more concrete and depressing like "Your life is over. You suck. You have used up all your allotment of life's dreams and now must suffer the rest of your life toiling in the mire of an existence you have eked out thus far, no mater how deadly dull and unsatisfying it may be. You lose, sucker! HA HA HA"

It's almost like she's PMS-ing.

I have to admit it disturbs me a little. I like my little nightly twisted fairy tales. Plus surely this can't be it for my life. There's got to be something towards which to aspire. 

Why are you so angry with me Sub Conscious? You know I love you. You're the source of all my inspiration. Oh well. She'll come around once the cocktails start flowing. 

I Love My Goofball Family

or proof that I come by my wackness honestly

(I realize the events of the day might get lost in translation, but... what the Hell. Sue me.)

Okay, so Easter is one of the holidays where my entire family gets together at my Mom, Big Mar's house. There are three of us sisters who live here in the Burgh, my brother lives in New Paltz, NY and my oldest sister travels from New Jersey. This year our two nieces were MIA--one at NC State, the other studying in Japan--but the nephews were in attendance.

Last Saturday night we all gathered at the family homestead, and let's just say... the festivities started in earnest.

So my sister, Weez and I decided to crack open the alcohol early--namely Limoncello. Okay... I decided to crack open the alcohol early, but she partook of her own free will, I swear! For those unfamiliar, Limoncello is an Italian liqueur comprised of lemons steeped in vodka for, like two weeks, then blended with a mixture of equal parts water and sugar, then frozen to a thick lemony, kick-ass, goodness which will make you very, VERY happy.

The guys were drinking beers, we were drinking Limoncello, the conversation was lively, the jokes were off-color, the snacks were abundant...

Snacking was good, but we needed real food. We decided to order grub from a terrific BBQ place down the street.

Have you ever tried to place a food order in a room full of inebriated Italians? No easy task. Plus, I don't know why, but I could NOT stop making lewd comments and gestures...you know, like I was at work with my equally lewd buds. I blame you, demon Cello. Je accuse!

We started debating how many "racks" we wanted. (Yeah...you probably know where this is going.) Having no self control, I motioned towards my and my sisters' decolletage and blurted "how about three" to which my brother, Buddy just about blew beer out of his nose.

Next up...pulled pork.

OMG! Apparently my brother has issues with the very idea of pulled pork. He launches into this whole hilarious tirade about how you can't trust where the "pork pullers" hands have been, how he knows the dude doesn't wash his hands in the john, how there are no paper towels so he wipes them on his grimy shorts, how his cigarette ash precariously dangles over the meat... yadda yadda yadda. All the while I'm making with the rude hand-job gesture. See, I told you I couldn't stop myself. Again, I blame you, Limoncello! Je accuse, infinity.

Anywho, Weez finally places our order for 2800 pounds of chow, and we charge up the forklift to get it all. Meanwhile, we all get busy clearing the table, cleaning up and getting ready for dinner when the phone rings. Weez, being closest to the phone, answers.

"Hello? Yes, we placed an order for pulled pork."

(pause...looks at me, perplexed)

"You.. you want to know if we want YOU to pull the pork.. or if WE want to do it... ourselves... ??

(she turns to her hubby, David--again with the puzzled look)

"David.... do we want them to pull the pork or do we want to do it ourselves?"

Okay... at this point, I'm heading up the cellar stairs laughing! my! ass! off! AND about to wet myself. I'm totally Lizzing. Tears are running down my cheeks. Is this dude serious? Really?

"Uh... I think, you should do it?"

pause

"Oh! You guys SUCK!!" Slam! goes the phone.

Okay, honestly I don't remember what she said, because I was too busy doubled over, howling and trying not to ruin my pants.

Next thing I know, my brother and bro-in-law crawl back into the house roaring with laughter, tearing up. They had just punked my Sis. Beautiful!! That is the first time I have ever seen any of them there boys laugh so hard they were crying. Seriously. 

Half hour later, Weez and I drag my brother out of his comfy chair to go get the grub, camera in hand because, you know, we aren't obnoxious enough and he wants to document the pork boys. We have to wait...natch, so we start taking pictures of stuff like us molesting the concrete pig sitting out front, the alleged "pork-pullers" hands through the window (kinda freaking them out in the process) and the greatest souvenir t-shirts EVER which say, and I quote "We think of you when we pull our pork".

Right-hand to God! HaHaHaHaHa!! 

I know what some"Buddy" is getting for his birthday. 

Easter Candy Nobody Wants To Get
or it's been a tough week so some 12-year-old humor is in order

Okay, so everyone has their favorite Easter candy. Some folks like the traditional big ole, 5 pound, waxy chocolate bunny which you needed a meat clever to chop up into remotely edible pieces...and even then there was always some random bit of its body laying around four months after Easter collecting dust and turning that ever-so-appetizing shade of dusty white...only to be unceremoniously tossed into the trash alongside yesterday's banana peel and this mornings coffee grounds. Buh-bye Bunny. Thanks for stopping by.

Others have more refined tastes along the lines of Betsy Ann truffles, Godiva samplers and Sarris chocolate covered pretzels. All very tasty choices. Me? I needz my Reese's Peanut Butter Egg. Not that imitation crap...the REAL, honest-to-goodness, one-of-a-kind Reese's Peanut Butter Egg. Not to be a snob or anything, but the PB Egg is vastly superior to regular PB cups. It has the absolutely perfect ratio of twice as much peanut butter as chocolate. And when it's at room temperature and melty to the touch....Mmmmmmmm. Wait...I need a moment..

Aaaaand, I'm back.

What about Peeps? you may ask. And you may.

Don't get me started about the Peeps. I don't dig the Peeps. The thought of Peeps makes my teeth hurt, my mouth water (not in a good way) and my body want to convulse (again...not in a good way). Bleeech! Never could stand them. They do, however, blow up really cool when microwaved...so there's that going for them.

Of all the candies thrown around this time of year, I think everyone can agree that jelly beans rock, especially the tiny fruit pectin ones known as Jelly Bellys. That said, my 12-year-old friends and I have come up with a list of rejected jelly bean flavors. Enjoy. Happy Easter.

Bacon Strip, Tub Scum, Fecal Spore, Vinegar Douche, Snail Trax, Beer Loaf, Toe Jam, Schtickel of Schmegma, Oily Discharge, Man Yogurt, Festering Boil, Asparagus Tinkle, Head Cheese, Monkey Spunk, Belly Button Lint and finally Does This Look Infected To You?

So what's in your basket?

It's Been a Hard Week...

Three Pittsburgh Police Officers were systmatically gunned down responding to a domestic call. The assailant was heavily armed, wearing a flak jacket and waiting for them. Yesterday the city paid tribute to these fallen heroes who gave their life in the line of duty.

May they rest in peace....

Bonus Wednesday Post: Rhett Miller's New Song!!

That's right! The King-of-all-my-things has a new CD due out June 9th and his handlers were nice enough to post one of the new tunes "I Need to Know Where I Stand" on his MySpace page:

http://www.myspace.com/rhettmiller

Check it out. It's really good...and that's not just me being a huge, biased, fanatical fan. Geo thinks it's really good, too...and you know he has to suffer my obsession, so it must be good. Seriously. Listen to it now. It's groovy.

In Which I Attempt To Do Some House Cleaning Of Unposted Drafts 

Okay, so I was looking through my list of posts and noticed some unpublished bits. Some of them are crap and will just be left to die on the vine, so to speak. But some of them I'm going to give a second chance, because quite honestly I haven't had many inspired thoughts about which to blog lately. That, and... I'm kinda lazy. However, this topic still grinds my gears... so here goes

New and Improved?

Okay, so what is up with the "Followers" block on our blogs? I suspect it's Senor Blogface's attempt to improve and update the function of stalking your followers more efficiently blah blah blah. Whatever.

It's annoying right?

Unlike the old "Follower" format where one simple click gave access to your new reader's stats (age, place of origin, stripper name...), this new piece of crap makes you jump through hoops to get to the profile which can be accessed ONLY if your new BFF has a blog. How is this an improvement? Nobody asked me if I wanted it to change.

Speaking of annoying, can we please stop this daylight savings thing already! Back in the dark ages DST was a way for the farmers to squeak out one more hour of daylight by which to sow and reap their crops. I get that. But nowadays we have this little thing known as ELECTRICITY which helps folks to see in the dark. According to this site the extra hour of light in the evenings because of daylight savings time effectively curbs violent crimes. So why not keep DST all year round and stop dicking with my head.

**Yeah, this last paragraph is a little dated because I'm over the whole daylight-savings-time-jet-lag at the moment, but the idea of it still ticks me off. I'll be grousing again in the Fall. 

PSSSST...Don't Tell Anyone, But 

I'm having an affair...

with my SHEETS!

I'm not kidding. Every morning I wake up with the same thought--I LOVE my sheets. They're long, blonde, deep pocketed, silky smooth to the touch and Egyptian. Seriously. Between the comfy cozy pillow top mattress and these marvelous 300 count silky cotton wonders, I can barely pry myself away to start the day. Every morning in that dreamy state of slumber just prior to waking, I find myself rubbing my feet back and forth against the luscious fibers like a cricket. Only I'm not chirping...I'm purring. 

They make me purr. 

How sick is that? Really. That ain't right. Or maybe me telling you this is the "ain't right" part. I don't know. I can't help it. I'm a tactile person AND I'm Italian, so there's that whole touchy-feeling nationality thing going on. Anywho, that's my story and I'm sticking with it, dammit.

Seriously, do yourself a huge solid and buy a set of these dreamy 300 count Egyptian cotton sheets TODAY. You'll thank me later.