Lord, Beer Me Strength

Esther has a flat tire.

She was waiting for me outside of my apartment -- completely dejected and flat. Kinda like Katie Holmes' post-nuptial personality. Damn her (Esther, not Katie Holmes).

Josephine never would have pulled this crap.



For the uninitiated, Josephine was my old car and the love of my life. She was a 1998 Mitsubishi Mirage two-door coupe and I loved her. I knew all of her quirks and noises, she was amazing when it came to gas (180 miles on a quarter tank - highway) and she loved driving with the windows down and the music loud.

I named her after Ride On Josephine, a rollicking George Thorogood number and then realized that there were a litany of great songs that were applicable to her (Josephine by The Wallflowers, Oh Josephine by The Black Crowes).

When I drove up to PA, Paps sold her (to a horrible woman who put WalMart rims on her!!!) and I inherited his car -- a 2004 Honda Accord also known as Esther.

I named her Esther because she's the same color as a varicose vein and because she handles and feels like a little old lady/Madonna's most annoying incarnation.

I don't think I have a donut. I know I don't have a jack.

That girl's been nothing but trouble. I want my baby back.

Lord, Beer Me Strength.

I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.

New hair. It's pretty sweet.

Also, I could totally devour some huevos rancheros and a tall frosty mojito right about now. Anyone wanna hit up Honey's with me?

It's Friday afternoon and I'm stuck at work for the next hour-and-a-half, so I'm doing what any girl would do -- stealing from the fabulous Miss Drea.

Maybe I should actually start writing that novel I've been putting off for the past six years. Start planning my wedding. Note to self -- buy a wedding planning book and call the Hard Rock Hotel ASAP.

I love the smell of Boss by Hugo Boss even though it reminds me of my dickbag ex. I also love the smell inside Barnes and Noble and am currently trying to figure out a way to replicate it in my home. So far, I have a zero percent success rate.

People would say that I’m incredibly perky. Imagine Cass Van Rye toned down like, 80%. That's me.

I don’t understand why Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh and Michael Savage aren't held to the same standards as Don Imus. I mean, they're all hate-mongers.

When I wake up in the morning I know Ron Livingston won't be waiting for me with a grande decaf, skinny vanilla latte...but that doesn't mean that I stop hoping for it.

I lost the guitar pick Art Alexakis gave me when I moved from Florida to PA. I'm still kinda bummed about that.

Life is full of great music, movies, food, drink, places and people. And I want to experience as much of it as I possibly can.

My past has been both incredibly sheltered and a wonderful learning experience.

I get annoyed when I'm suckered into arguing about politics or religion.

Parties need at least one Justin Timberlake track, one Earth, Wind and Fire Track and one classic rock anthem like Don't Stop Believin' by Journey to make a memorable night.

I wish to find a sweet bargain at the mall tonight. Hopefully in the shape of a cute new summer dress.

Dogs are ridiculously cute. Especially if they happen to be Boston Terriers like Smashy or Jack Russell mixes like Phoebe.

Cats need to be more like Binx with big personalities and a penchant for playing in the sink.

Tomorrow is Avery's first birthday. I can't believe she's one already.

I have low tolerance for needles. Seriously. I immediately revert into weepy, terrified toddler when confronted with the prospect of an innoculation.

I’m totally terrified of never owning my own home one day. I know, I know. Totally stupid fear, but I really want my own house someday.

I wonder why studios keep paying those two buttholes to keep churning out crap like Disaster Movie and Meet The Spartans.

Never in my life have I gone streaking in the quad.

High school was nothing like the picture John Hughes painted.

When I’m nervous, I jabber like a complete idiot.

One time at a family gathering my sister and I passed a laptop back and forth to convey snarky messages without getting in trouble.

Take my advice and learn to accept what you have. Then learn to love it. If you hate everything, you're only hurting yourself (I'm keeping Drea's answer here because it's awesome and great advice)

Making my bed is a rarity but I'll probably make more of an effort when I get a matching comforter cover.

I'm almost always singing something in my head. Right now, it's Danny Elfman's Batman score.

I’m addicted to Lost, my Google Reader, Coke Zero/Diet Coke and Wawa.

I want a decent job and a cute little house in Los Angeles. Oh and the Lucky Medium Hobo bag in brown...or at least, a pretty good knock-off.

It's Friday. It's hot. I'm tired. Give this girl a cocktail ASAP.

At least my knockoff says 'Pradi.' Yours says 'Prado!'

So yesterday, I fell in love with this bag.

The Lucky Medium Slouchy Hobo Bag.

It's gorgeous and my homegirl Nancy Botwin sports one just like it.

Best of all, it's big enough to fit my keys, phone, wallet, lip balm (I'm in love with this product and highly recommend you pick some up. Your chapped lips will thank you), a copy of whatever I'm currently reading, my notebook, my keycard and work badge, sunglasses, eyeglasses, pens, gum and digital camera.

Unfortunately, that $158 price tag? Yeah -- not gonna happen. There's this thing I like to do that just won't allow for a $158 purse expenditure. It's called eating.

So, here's my plea -- help me find a very similar knock off that won't break the bank.

I've looked around and can't find anything close. I mean, you'd think Forever 21 -- fine purveyor of knock-offs -- would have an acceptable substitute, but no dice.

Thanks for your help, guys!

Ramble on. Now's the time. The time is now...

+ I've had Sabra Price Is Right stuck in my head all day. Does anyone remember this SNL sketch? It was from the 1991 season and featured Tom Hanks as a Middle-Eastern Bob Barker. Hilarious. If you don't believe me, check it out for yourself:



+ The last time I ate Indian food in PA was a miserable experience. I mean, I may as well have ordered a bowl of failure topped with defeat sprinkles. Almost a year later, I decided to give it another shot and lucked out. I hit up India Garden in West Chester and ordered a classic -- mutter paneer. It was perfect -- not too spicy, they didn't cheap out on the paneer and even the rice was good (as a general rule, I hate rice. It's bland and boring. I realize as an Asian this is akin to treason, but dude seriously? Rice = lame). India Garden -- Generic name, far from generic food. If you're ever in Dub C, check it out.

+ I saw the coolest graffiti I saw on the way back from the mall -- "Harvey Dent, Take Back Gotham!" Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to take a picture of it (handling a digital camera while driving = inevitable death), but I'll try to next time.

+ My new earrings rock. A lot.

+ You know what else rocks? My new hair. I have bangs for the first time ever. They are super cute.

+ Want. Want. Want. Nancy Botwin has one and she's my homegirl. Well, at least she was when she was rockin' the suburbs. Now...well, we'll have to see where she goes.

+ Pauline's Tumblr is pretty awesome. You should check it out.

The world won't wait, so I better shake

To celebrate our anniversary, Dan and I are planning on spending the weekend in New York City.

Having never been to NYC, I'm ridiculously excited and can't wait. Only, I've got no idea what to do when we get there.

I'd like to have one of those great Nora Ephron-y nights where Dan and I just wander around the city until sunrise.


(Photo courtesy of Urban75.com)

But I get the feeling that:

A) Knowing my brilliant sense of direction, I'd probably end up in some shady neighborhood being chased by the C.H.U.D.s.
B) This idea would work until about 4:00 a.m. when I would get incredibly sleepy and end up passing out in the street and being hauled off by one of New York's finest.

So, this is where you come in. I need suggestions -- places to eat and places to see.

I hear The Met's pretty cool, I definitely want to check out 55 Central Park West (we're nerds. Do I really need to keep reiterating this?) and I'm a big advocate of eating really well (Ray's Pizza -- delicious or overrated? Oh and if anyone could recommend good Indian, Middle Eastern and Tapas places, that would be awesome!

So -- suggestions, recommendations?

Thanks guys!

Technology bests me again...

Dan's been on an X-Files kick lately. He's watching all the episodes in the 'mytharc' (the story arc of the show's mythology. Yes, I am currently researching how much it costs to get 'Nerd' tattooed on my forehead) so we can watch the first movie so we can see the second movie. Movies are serious business at Casa Walsh (Casa Walsh is just a placeholder until I actually come up with a name for our place).

[SIDEBAR: Name my apartment! I used to live in Lush Manor -- a glorious HUD-approved apartment complete with black mold and two of the best damn roommates a girl could ever ask for. Now, I live in a pretty sweet apartment with a huge TV, a Wii and the cutest roommate/fiance a girl could ask for. So, any suggestions?]

I've been watching too in a half-assed sort of way, but it's this half-assery that gets me in trouble. Well, that coupled with my on-going battle with technology and complete inability to separate real life from fiction.

Case in point: Last Night.

I woke up at around 2:00 a.m. because I noticed there were flashes of light emanating from the living room. In a sleep-addled state, I stumbled to the living room to investigate.

The Wii's disc drive was glowing bright blue 'causing the light show.

So, what's the first thing I think of? No, it's not to unplug the Wii or check the power button. The first thing I think of is:

"Aliens are using our Wii to communicate! What if this is like Poltergeist? What if I get sucked into some otherworldly alien vortex dimension?"

This is my first response, ladies and gentlemen. Completely devoid of logic. I skip right over sane rationality and crash land at ludicrous.

This morning, I woke up and noticed the Wii's disc drive was still bright blue.

Jaime: Honey! There's something wrong with the Wii.
Dan: What is it?
Jaime: The disc drive is glowing blue.
Dan: Take the disc out.

The glowing stops.

Right.

So, to recap:

Technology: 46764318976436516413545677

Jaime: 0

Looting and polluting is not the way!

I came into the office today to find a 5" thick pile of paper waiting to be copied at my desk. Do you know how much five inches of paper is? It's a lot. I took 5" and turned it into 10" (that's what she said). So, between the small chunk of the Amazon I killed today and all the Hair Insurance I use, I'm pretty sure I'm on Al Gore's hit list.

Speaking of the environment, you know what needs to make a resurgence? Captain Planet. That show was awesome and with everyone being so much more environmentally friendly nowadays, he could easily make a triumphant return.



McGillis and I had a pretty interesting conversation about the show once. Everyone had a cool power except Ma-Ti. Wheeler could shoot fireballs, Kwame could create earthquakes, Linka could summon tornadoes (Oh, Linka. The Cold War thawed everywhere except in your icy heart), Gi could control entire bodies of water and Ma-Ti got the short end of the stick. He was saddled with the power of 'heart' which allowed him to feel and convey emotions. So, basically his power was being emo. Nice. Oh and he gets a monkey too. Great. As McGillis so succinctly put it, "I would have kicked Gaia in the box for giving me a power like that!"

Anyway, Captain Planet? Totally awesome and needs to make a comeback....providing they Rastafy him by 10% (+10 and a cookie to whoever gets that).

Google Reader and Google Docs just became my new BFFE. Not only can I blog from the office but I can also catch up on other people's blogs! It's amazing! Oh and if you haven't already, check out Starting Over @ 24. He's been keeping me entertained all day while I've been copying, stapling and restapling. SO@24 reminds me of Mikey from Swingers...but cooler and more video-game savvy (I'm sure he gets that comparison all the time) and that rocks because when I think about Mikey, I start thinking about Rob (played by the charming Ron Livingston) and from there, my productivity takes a nose-dive and my imagination goes into overdrive.



Oh, Mr. Livingston. I'd double-down on you any day. Too far? Too far.

And lastly, here's some stuff I've been digging lately:

• The new release by Augustana - Can't Love, Can't Hurt. Check out I Still Ain't Over You and Sweet and Low.
• Aussie's Hair Insurance. It works really well.
• Taco Bell's Fruitista Freeze. Strawberries, mangoes and a name that sounds like a fabulous South American dictator. What's not to like?
• Wawa. Made-to-order sandwiches and yummy iced tea? What's not to like?
  
  

Dirty South comes to Philthadelphia

Man, I miss these guys.

It's a warm, sunny day and I'm stuck at my desk until 5:00. So, I'm emptying out my brain like it was my purse:

+ I went 'down da shore' for the first time in my life. Apparently, this is somewhat of a summer tradition if you live in the mid-Atlantic states. Thankfully, it was less like MTV's True Life: I'm a Jersey Shore Girl and more like a pretty chill Memorial Day Weekend. I learned that a good 90% of food at the shore is fried within an inch of its life and if you eat it, your stomach will stage a violent coup. I also learned that pretty much every shop on the boardwalk sells exactly the same merchandise and that the sun harbors a serious grudge against me. I have a forehead the size of a movie screen (regular, not IMAX) and UV rays gun for it after it like Dina Lohan scrambling for her fifteen minutes.

+ Why is Lisa in the final four in Top Chef? She's a mediocre cook and I'm so over her defensive attitude and paranoia. Homegirl messed up rice twice so I'm thinking she needs to pack her knives and GTFO.

+ Speaking of things that need to GTFO, someone needs to forward that memo to the cold I have. I feel like I've been kicked in the head by a menopausal rhino. On the plus side, though? I can totally relate to Denis Leary's love of NyQuil (Google it, kids).

+ I have the same vision as Pam Beesley (20/400) and the same bra size as Rachel Green (you can figure that one out for yourself). I know this because Wikipedia and I are BFFE.

+ I saw the Sex and the City movie opening night and it was an experience unlike any other.

The audience was 90% women. The other 10%? The world's most disconsolate men, men who were way better groomed than I ever will be and one very confused child who was obviously just there for the popcorn (sidebar: $17 for popcorn and two Diet Cokes?! If you're going to rob me blind, at least have the decency to wear a ski mask and corner me in a dark alley). Of this 90%, a good 30% of these women actually dressed up for the screening. Now, being incomparably dorky, I've attended numerous screenings where people dress up like their favorite characters. I've encountered Jedis, Indys and more than a few superheroes but never have I ever witnessed a gaggle of women in cocktail dresses, heels and full make-up at the movies. I have to admit though, it was pretty fabulous. Cocktail dresses should be acceptable attire everywhere. Ditto flip flops (any movement on that yet?).

Speaking of the audience, in addition to unsolicited advice and "sassy" affirmations, I was also subject to raucous whooping whenever all four ladies met on screen, when Carrie wore her famous opening credits tutu dress and when the audience caught a glimpse of her sizable shoe collections (although, I have to admit that I felt a hard jolt of envy when I saw her Louboutins. What? They're delicious).I'm all for interaction to a certain degree (laughter, a gasp during a shocking moment, a sniffle during a particularly tender and touching scene), but come on! This isn't Rocky Horror.

As for the movie itself -- If you're a die-hard fan, you'll probably love it.

If you're a dude who's never seen the show and couldn't tell a Manolo from a pashmina, you'll hate it.

If you're someone who kinda dug the show, appreciated the clothes and watched to catch a glimpse of Ron Livingston (i.e.: me), you'll find it a little long and the kind of movie that requires some serious suspension of disbelief (There's no way Carrie could ever afford her swanky NYC digs or designer labels on a columnist's salary and in all honesty, the characters have become self-parodying charactures of who they were on the show).

But, if you take it for what it is (cinematic cotton candy clothed in coutour), it's a pretty sweet way to spend an evening.