Big Girl Underoos

It's my last week as an office prisoner! And next week, I move in with Friendster Guy! Why can't I ever do one crazy thing at a time? Oh well! Off to purge my files!

This is just horrifying. You simply must go the link and click on the parts of this product. The commercial below is bad - "I love when my laundry gets so clean/taking care of my home is a dream, dream, dream!" (I think I just threw up in my mouth a little) but the website promotional material is even worse. Yes, when I was a kid I did have a mini-stove, mini-fridge and various and sundry baby care products (cribs, strollers, etc.) Not that I played with them. I was more of a builder than a caretaker - Legos, Lincoln Logs, blocks, couch cushions... However, the toys I had in the homemaker ilk were inherited from my Aunt. Ergo, these toys were from the actual 50s when, if we are to believe television programming from that time, all women wore aprons (unless they were harlots) and men had a refreshing cocktail placed in their hand upon returning home from work. My niece does own a "kitchen" (several actually - somehow all her grandparents ended up with one. I have e...

*ring, ring* Friendster Guy - Hello? Sassy - Hey! You know what I was thinking? FG - Indian takeout. Sassy - See! THIS is why I love you.

Dear Past Sassy, Thank you very much for thinking ahead and grabbing that blueberry scone from the break room yesterday for me to eat for breakfast today. That was very thoughtful of you...me...us. Current Sassy

Aaaalmost free! Less than two weeks left of my desk job (and steady paycheck. Eek!) If you haven't been to Bent Objects yet, you simply must go. You'll never look at produce or your junk drawer the same way again.

It's official, I am thick in the middle. According to the bridal store where I am ordering a bridesmaid's dress for my brother's wedding, my measurements indicate that: My bust is size 8 My hips are size 8 My waist is size 14! Doh! It's amazing how quickly learning an arbitrary number will send you tumbling into a fit of lowered self-esteem despite being at an all time thinness/fitness level. The #14 totally trumped the fact that I have been able to tighten my belt 2 whole notches. Stupid numbers. I'll get over it though and it'll just make me work that much harder. Entire body size 8 here I come!

If my reaction to the pile awaiting me on my chair this morning is any indication, I don't think I'm going to make it through the next two weeks at work, at least not without being a total bitch. Case in point: In August (August!) I drafted one of many letters and put it on my boss's desk for her to proof/approve. Yesterday, she hands it back to me, says the first sentence is outdated (Duh! "Hope you're enjoying your summer" worked back in AUGUST when you should have read it.) and that she hadn't read the rest because...I don't know. The rest of it was just information we needed to share, nothing "dated" because that was just the letter's preamble before it got down to business. Would it be too much to ask that after 6 weeks, she read the whole thing and let me fix it all at once? No, she wanted me to fix the first sentence and give it back to her again before she read it through. Then she said I should have come into her office, rifled t...

If anyone doubts that cars give off a hell of a lot of nasty emissions, they should try jogging through a business/light industrial park at shift change. Holy crap, I almost asphyxiated yesterday. Blech.

I was innocently standing in the shower this morning when I realized I had the following song in my head. I don't even know any of the words. I was just chanting over and over " September morn...something, something, something...became a brand new day ." Once I realized I had a Neil Diamond ear worm, my brain decided I should go through his whole library in snippets. Like a Time Life Audio Collection commercial - September morn...Sweeet Caroline, bah, bah, bah...They're comin' to America! Today!... I suppose of all the artists I was forced to listen to in car rides growing up, Neil Diamond isn't the worst. It could have been John Denver. Or the Muppets. Or, the muppets and John Denver (Although, I am ashamed to admit, I do own this CD and I love it. Oh yes I do.)

It's time for another installment of "How'd you get referred here?" Site Meter sends me a weekly email where I can see how people found this site. Most weeks it's pretty boring - underoos, underoos, underoos, and things having to do with big girls. This week I had a few more fun ones and I have decided to give them categories (I've added symbols to some so as not to encourage extra pervertial visitation): For longest, most specific search string: "girl tak1ng bathing $uit bottoms off with big b00bs" (I assume she is supposed to have large b00bs, not actually be using them to remove the bottom. Although if it's the latter, and someone finds it, send me a link. That's just something I'd want to see.) For strangest breakfast menu: "Big b00bs with eggs" For best foreign search: "llena de merde" (translation: full of shit) For shortest and sweetest search: "Spice b00bs" And last, but not least, for randomest searc...

You know what puts a girl in a good mood? Waking up in an apartment that has yet to have it's heat turned on despite several nights where it has dropped below 40. I'd be more bitchy about it if I slept there more often. Or if I wasn't moving in 3 weeks (whoohoo!). I've already packed all my books and niknaks. I had thought about packing up some blankets but thank god I didn't. I needed those things last night! Brrrr.... UPDATE: No heat at work either! Seriously? I'm very glad to be going to the gym this afternoon. Even if they didn't have heat, I could generate my own on the treadmill.

Dear Universe, Sorry to bother you again, but nipple hair? WTF? You've got to be kidding me. Sassy

Dear Universe, You can stop reminding me why I quit my job. I have no regrets so feel free to ease up on the office shenanigans. Really, I'm good. Thanks, Sassy Pants P.S. What's with all the pimples?

An update on the chaos mentioned in my last post - I was going to simply challenge my mother to an "Age Purge," i.e. getting rid of one thing for how old you are, but then I decided that part of my mother's problem is my brother, and if I was going to get my brother to do anything I probably needed to get my sister involved so it all spiraled into a purging competition for my whole family. I have offered anyone in my family who purges their age in stuff by Sunday a $5 gift certificate to Friendly's. And whoever purges the most stuff above and beyond their age will get a grand prize - probably some sort of bottle of alcohol (unless my niece wins in which case I have no idea what I'll do yet.) So far, my mom, sister, niece, and Friendster Guy (tentatively) have signed on. If you'd like to join us (no prizes, just a feeling of freedom), here is some inspiration. Fly Lady's Baby steps program (Thanks Anonymous) Expiration dates of common household stuff Clea...

I went to my mother's this weekend. Also there were my sister, her husband, my niece (5), my nephew (3 weeks), their dog, my brother, his fiance, their dog, my mother, my step-father, and their cat. 7 adults, 2 children, and 3 pets. (Needless to say, Friendster Guy was glad he was not there.) This, in and of itself, is not generally a problem. We all get along and are fairly small people so don't take up a lot of room. However. What is also in the house is a mess. A huge, twenty years in the making, mess. With a capital M. Stuff everywhere. Clean Sweep levels of stuff. Exascerbated by the fact that my brother and his fiance were evicted from their apartment and decided to save money before their wedding in April by moving back in with Mom. Their stuff is taking up two rooms (I went home a few weeks ago and literally emptied "my" bedroom closest of all the flotsam and jetsom of my youth in order to make room for them. My sister did as well.) In addition, my grandmothe...

How convenient! An exercise video wherein you get a workout AND learn enough English to hail a cab, beg a mugger not to kill you, get your boss off your back, and get out of paying for a date.

I am cute, no? Look deep into my eyes. You are getting sleepy. Veeery, veery sleepy. You are feeling like you want to do things for me, yes? Maybe you want to get me a nice bottle of milk. Or my favorite toy? Or, perhaps, one meellion dollars?

Dear Universe, Blogosphere, Yoda and David Hasselhoff, Remember a couple weeks ago when I asked you to give me a sign that I should quit and the very next day my boss's boss pulled some lame ass stupid unnecessary shit and made me realize that I could never survive until Thanksgiving. Remember? Yeah, that was cool. Thanks. I don't really have a lot to beseech thee about today but I would like to make a request or two. Mostly, what I'm looking for is the ability to recognize when I too am doing lame ass unnecessary shit (preferrably before anyone else does). I think I'm doing pretty good so far but I tend to get grandiose ideas that are great but unnecessary at the moment. For instance, I'd love to create a newsletter for my clients. Would it be great if I gave them one? Yes. But is it necessary right now when I don't even know what exercises I'm going to do with them? No. Ergo, I need to be stopped before I play with any more Word templates. (By the by, I ...

...makes us want to kill other people. If I survive the next month or two trying to close out one job while gearing up into another, totally unrelated and unfamiliar, second job, it'll be a miracle. I sense a meltdown on the horizon. I also sense a very neglected blog. Sorry about that. Talk amongst yourselves.