Archive for February, 2009

Death to Snuggie

During a quick stop at Walgreens this weekend, I waited patiently in the car for my husband to run in and buy some cold medicines.

When he returned, he came back with more than just nasal spray and cough drops.

Into my lap landed this:

My reaction: WTF is this?! Oh hells naw, you did NOT just buy me a SNUGGIE! Get that thing away from me and take it back RIGHT NOW! That’s the…

Hubby: It’s not for you. It’s for my mom. Her birthday is next week.

Me: Oh, okay then. It’s perfect.

I don’t know why, but I am morally against the snuggie. My husband (aka, the person who knows me best) thinks that this is the one item I should be all over. I’m constantly cold and love curling up on the couch with my giant blue fleece blanket. I’ll wrap it around myself and wear it like a toga as I walk to and from the kitchen for refills of hot chocolate. In theory, I am the perfect snuggie candidate.


I do not like the snuggie. In fact, just mere mention of the word “snuggie” makes me rather…angry. Like punch a koala angry (thank you, CareerBuilder). Some might even say…stabby. Yes, the snuggie makes me stabby. It’s a strange phenomena really. Someone should conduct a study on my psyche. Though I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. How does a monk’s fleece cloak evoke so much emotion? I don’t know. I just know there aren’t enough koalas around when I need them.

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Beautiful Barcelona

I had every intention of going to the gym tonight, but I woke up early this morning around 3 a.m. with a sore throat so painful that there was no spot in my throat that did not ache. So also? My inner ears hurt too. That’s what pain does. When it runs out of room in one place in your body, it spreads to the next available space. Suffice it to say, I have caught the cold that seems to be making its way across the country.

So instead of the gym, I opted for the opposite: a little comfort food from Steak ‘n Shake and a date with my couch. My couch wanted to watch some typical dude movie with guns and cars and extravagant (read: completely unrealistic) fight scenes and lesbian action. I wanted to watch Friends re-runs. We compromised and watched “Vicky Cristina Barcelona.” How is this compromise? Well, Vicky and Cristina are best friends spending their summer in Barcelona and there’s some hot lesbian action. So there ya go.

Anyway, the movie took place, per the obvious title, in Barcelona. And for those of you who read this blog back in the fall, you’ll remember this post about my brief time there since it was our port of departure for our Mediterranean cruise. As I watched the movie, I saw so many places I recognized. They even show a clip of the random people in the streets dancing with their giant sparklers. At the time, we had wondered if it was some sort of special holiday to warrant such festivities and fireworks, but apparently this is just how they celebrate Saturday nights during the summer. And I think that’s pretty rad.

So the movie made me more than a little reminiscent of my new favorite city (recently replacing my previous favorite city: New York) so I booted up the laptop to review my old posts. It didn’t take me long to remember that, hey, I forgot to tell you guys about the rest of our trip. I told you about Barcelona, Malta, and Naples, but I never did tell you about Rome, Florence or Nice. That’s half the trip right there! So I’m going to get on that. Right after I get over this cold and look at some pictures of Barcelona.

This is what they do. I shit you not.

The nightlife is amazing. Like Miami, but a bit…slower. More my speed.


This one is bigger because it’s actually mine.  La Rambla is the equivalent to Chicago’s Michigan Ave.

If you care to share, tell me about your favorite city and why it’s your favorite.

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Dear Punxsutawney Phil,

You’re an asshole. I think this whole “seeing  your shadow” bit is a crock. And on top of that, you only work for about 10 seconds one day a  year. Maybe I’m just jealous, but you’re still an asshole.


The leader of the Coalition Against Fat, Lazy Groundhogs (CAFLG).


Dear Skinny People at the Gym,

If you don’t have butt dimples or are smaller than a size 4, get the hell off the treadmill and go eat a cheeseburger. You’re making the rest of us out-of-shape people look bad and honestly, my competitive side can’t take it anymore. Maybe you haven’t noticed me trying to out run you both in speed and distance when we’re on the treadmill next to each other, but I bet you noticed me that time I may have went a little too fast and in an attempt to slow back down, knocked my iPhone off and sent it flying a good 10 feet behind me. Better it than me I guess. But I’m still blaming you and your skinny ass for my inappropriate behavior. This wouldn’t have happened had I been competing with someone a little more…fleshy.

Now get the hell out.


Someone with the metabolism of a sloth


Dear lady in the elevator,

Look, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but no one is going to notice that cute Kate Spade bag of yours when just one whiff of your breath can knock a girl unconscious. Maybe you should spend a little less money on accessories and a little more with your dental hygienist. Just sayin’.


Girl who was nearly knocked unconscious in the elevator

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Ah ha!

After 6 months, I finally figured out how to do a header. It’s amateur work, I know, but whatever. I like it. And yes, that is a photo of my wedding cake. The most delicious cake I have ever tasted.

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Celebs and Twitter

Just before the weekend commenced, a big hullabaloo was happening on Twitter when word about Ashton Kutcher (@aplusk) and Demi Moore’s (@mrskutcher) Twitter feeds started spreading like wildfire. I checked out Ashton’s page and noticed that the night before, he got into a little tiff with Perez Hilton (@perezhilton)  over Perez’s constant insults of Ashton’s step-kids. I silently cheered Ashton on. Since I started following them just a few days ago, their followers have grown by the thousands. I just thought it was pretty cool that even certain celebs are tech-savvy. It somehow made me feel less geeky.

On Sunday, as hubby and I drove around running errands before the Super Bowl, I checked Twitter from my iPhone and saw some updates from Demi. I started to think: If all the major celebs were active Twitter users, it would put the tabloids out of business. Think about it. Wouldn’t you rather hear what a celeb is doing first-hand rather than read some paparazzi account of what they were doing accompanied by some shitty photograph where they have their hand in front of their face?  I know I would. Of course I would still buy magazines like People for the interviews, the red carpet photos, and commentary on the best/worst dressed, etc. But the stalker photos? I could do without those.

So Ashton and Demi, get all your other famous friends on Twitter and let’s start a movement. If you can get Brangelina on Twitter, I will personally pledge to never buy another tabloid magazine again.

Other, non-A-list celebs on Twitter are probably noticing a slight boost in their suffering careers. Or at least keeping their names out there (yeah, I’m looking at you @freddurst and @mchammer). Some of my own personal faves: @elijahwood (my teen crush) and @davejmatthews. Now if only John Stamos would sign-up…

If you’re on Twitter and want to see a list of more celebs using Twitter, check out this article. Oh yeah, and you can find me at http://twitter.com/missliz27. Tweet ya later!

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