Thanksgiving Recap

December 1, 2008

Hello again, everyone! I've officially returned from my Thanksgiving getaway, and holy crappers, it was so much fun.

Ladies and gentlemen, I absolutely cannot get over this picture of myself. Generally speaking I'm the most non-photogenic human being on the face of the planet. I can do my hair, spruce my makeup, lose twenty pounds, and look like an all around sex-kitten in the mirror--but then some dope will snap a candid, show it to me on that little camera screen, and I have to fight the urge to faint.

I'm like,"Dude! Why'd you take a picture of a chunky girl with bird poo smeared all over her cheek?!"

And the photographer's all, "Ummmm.....that's you."

But this shot, my friends, is the exception to the rule. I should consider posing next to the ass end of a dead bird more often--it seems to make me look cute by default:

***

Here I am at my ten year reunion, which I should add, was the most fun I've had in--let's see--ten years?!?! I love these people.

LOVE THESE PEOPLE.

Despite the beer bottle in the foreground and the facial expression that clearly says I AM A DOG AND WILL PLAYFULLY RIP A HOLE IN THE BACK OF YOUR PANTS, I was stone cold sober:

I didn't get any one's permission to post their picture on my website, but hello?! when have I ever given two poops about boundaries and respect?

Starting from the left, we have the lovely Tali (Ivy-leaguer, two master's degrees, sexy, successful, and fun--as hard as I try, I just can't hate her...), me, Melissa (who told me the truth about Santa in first grade--can't hate her either...), Cindy, Mary-Kate (New York artist with the hottest set of hooters I've ever had the privilege of accidentally touching), and the ravishingly beautiful Nancy.

***

This is Jon. Jon with approximately twenty-two bottles of beer pumping through his veins. I've never seen him in this kind of a condition, and I'm honestly debating whether or not I should call his mother--she would be so disappointed.

Sometime around midnight, Jon offered to take me to a Red Sox game, free of charge, and buy me dinner in Boston--he even sealed the deal with a pinky swear. I love it when my most successful friends extend expensive, drunken promises--really ups my own standard of living, ya know?

When I told Jared, he was like, "You're going on a date with Jon? I'm not sure how I feel about that..." So I said, "Jon's wife will be probably free that night, maybe you can take her on a date?" It worked--now Jared's totally fine with it.

***

This is Troy. Back in sixth grade, when I was a complete ho, I kissed him on the bus on the way home from our field trip to the Bronx Zoo. I can't remember why I decided to do it--it was either a dare, or the fact that I couldn't resist his chiseled little 90-pound body--I really can't remember. Either way, the band teacher found out and threatened to call our parents.

As far as I know, Dr. Hopko hasn't contacted them yet--but every now and again, the thought of that call keeps me awake at night. My father would kill me. Still.

I hope everyone had a Thanksgiving that was half as good as mine!

Happy Friggin' Holidays, Dr. Lawson

November 25, 2008

Do you ever find yourself wrestling with the deep and difficult things? Thoughts like, "Well that's funny, I really don't remember marrying a five-foot-ten-inch turd six years ago...."?

No?

Well I do.

Let's take today for example. Early this morning, I graciously offered to run James up and down the state of Maine, in a freezing downpour, to buy Christmas decorations for Jared's office. Jared's office you see, is on Main Street. And this Saturday, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the city has organized a Christmas party--which, I should mention, will occur right in front of his practice.

To really plop a cherry on the free publicity we'll be offering free ten-minute massages, cookies, candy, drinks, blah, blah, blah. So obviously, the office could use some Christmas decor and cheer.

For the sake of the story, let's just go ahead and cut to three o'clock this afternoon.

I parallel park in front of Jared's space, load my arms with three fuzzy white penguins, three 36" electric candles, three 48" stockings for the store front window, one three-year-old boy, (are you following?), two-hundred-and-fifty twinkle lights, thirty-six feet of faux-pine garland, a trash bag full of roll-out snow, and a Seasons Greetings doormat.

I teeter into Jared's office, anxious to create my winter wonderland, and do you know what the man--oh, wait, excuse me--the five-foot-ten-inch turd has the nerve to say to me?! Wait for it...

I only want the doormat. The rest of the stuff is way too tacky.

I'm sorry, Dr. Lawson, come again?

Fine, I'll keep the penguins. No one will notice those.

Seriously, I'm not getting this.

This stuff is not appropriate for a health care practice.

Well I'm sorry, would you rather that I string some lights onto an enormous, plastic model of a vajango? Would that be more "medical" for you?

So, do you know what I did? Really folks, take a stab at my reaction.

Wait for it...

I took all of the "tacky crap" home and put it ALL OVER our house, inside and out--because seriously, why place an elegant candle on your window sill when you can duct tape a three-foot ginormous candle in it's place instead?

Why not bless this house with a thirty foot roll of faux snow?

And really, why shouldn't James have a stocking that's taller than he is? Why shouldn't our dog have enough usable stocking space to receive forty pounds of biscuits? Why shouldn't I be able to fit my entire grocery order into a large, festive holiday stocking? And why shouldn't Jared....oh....err...forget it, I only bought three. I guess my husband will have to make due with his eight ounce stocking for a few more years. Tough economy, ya know?

WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH A BATTERY OPERATED SNOW GLOBE THAT HAPPENS TO BE THE SAME SIZE OF MY HEAD?!?!

WHAT?!

...and here's a random, sideways video of James posing as a ghost in front of the snowy candle scene.

Thanksgiving and Ten Year Reunions

November 25, 2008

I'm going out of town tomorrow, and I probably won't be blogging for a couple of days. It's not like I'll be away from the internet or anything, I'll just be too busy playing hula-hoop on my sister's Wii.

For those who are interested, the tentative schedule looks something like this (stalkers, please take note):

Wednesday Morning: Pick my nephew up in Boston. Allow him to consume McNuggets and orange soda against my sister's will.

Wednesday: Play Wii. Don't give the children a turn. Don't share with the elderly either.

Thursday: Run a 5k turkey trot. Wonder "Why in the hell do I run?" the entire time. Go home and ingest 4,000-6,000 calories with no guilt, because du-uh, I run.

Thursday Night: Write DORK across my cousin's head in heavy-duty permanent marker (it's an annual tradition). Get a serious talking-to from my aunt.

Friday: Practice lines like, "Oh, you're an attorney, too? We've got a lot of those, huh?" and "I'm sure Yale medical school is challenging at times." and "Actually, I think an online master's degree is quite legitimate."

Friday Night: Attend my 10-year high school reunion. Show off my new twenty pounds. When asked about my life, flash the hotty-hot picture of Jared that I posted in the upper right hand corner of this post. Be sure to flash it very quickly.

In honor of my upcoming reunion, I've also tweaked my vocabulary a bit. For example:

• The word Chiropractor (my husband's profession) has been amended to sound more like the word Physician.
• The phrase horribly misbehaved three-year-old (my son's profession) has a new pronunciation. It now sounds very similar to the phrase child actor.
• And of course, the number Less than $30,000 annually, has been subjected to a multiplier. When I say it now, it comes out more like More than $250,000 per year.

And finally, in the spirit of the upcoming holiday--and this very list laden post--I'd like to mention what I'm thankful for this year.

1. I'm thankful for the upcoming Christmas season and all of the new Santa-related threats that I'm able to use on my child. Dude...they totally work.

2. I'm grateful for people who throw their backs out, and then, in their moment of despair, notice our new, eye-catching advertisement in the yellow pages. Ta-da!

3. I guess I only have two.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

All Hail the Holy Hottness

November 21, 2008

I'm straight and everything, but holy smokes, Beyonce is ridiculously hot. Mark my words friends, if I live to be 100 years old I will still stand amazed at that woman's unadulterated foxiness.

We're just about the same age, me and Beyonce. And whenever I see her, and think about that, I'm just like: Damn. I shouldn't have quit dance class. And it wouldn't have hurt if my mother had been a bit more creative in the naming department either.

I don't watch a whole lot of television, so I just saw this for the first time today. After that clip ended I sat at my kitchen table with my mouth hanging open, cheerio juice dribbling down my chin, my cereal spoon hanging limply in my fist, muttering the words, "Damn boy. You really shoulda put a ring on it..."

I'd give that video a serious PG-13 rating, so I certainly wouldn't watch it at work, or at your Grandma's house, or with six year old boys around--it'll get their wheels turning that much sooner.

And now that I think about it, you probably shouldn't watch it in front of your wife either. Trust me, it'll just cause her to think about what it would look like if she packed herself into that leotard--so she'll probably end up crying for a day or two.

If you do watch the clip, please make note of that spanky thing she does from minute 2:41 to minute 2:44. Sure it's only three seconds, but it's a powerful three seconds. It might just change your life for the better. I personally, have been practicing that maneuver all morning long. I'd like to have it perfected in time for our church talent show later this year.

I guess it's official...I have a girl crush on Beyonce Knowles. It's not any worse than my husband's man crush on Jason Varitek, I suppose.

And you? C'mon and spill it. If you're a boy, name your man crush. If you're a lady, name your girl crush. And if you're dating Beyonce, then please, for the love of heaven and earth, go put a ring on it. NOW!

I Think I'll Stick with Blogging

November 19, 2008
So. I recorded my very first podcast last night with these three guys.

The whole thing seemed to turn into a forty-five minute, highly offensive laugh-fest. It was also very confusing. One of the guys had a distinctive upper-Midwest kind of drawl (you know, when they say "bage" instead of "bag?"), but I couldn't tell Vanilla apart from RazZ if four of my fingers depended on it. Like I said--very, very confusing.

Throughout the entire podcast, all three of the men seemed to defer to the good old fashioned 'ladies first' mentality. This did not work well....

1) RazZ would pose a question.

2) A short, awkward silence would follow.

3) Amy would answer the question in three words or less.

4) A long, awkward silence would follow.

--Repeat--

I think they were all waiting for me to get to the joke. Welp, sorry boys, that was the joke.

Ouch.

Since last night, I've tried again and again to run the conversation through my head--you know, to figure out how just much humiliation I should prepare for--but my goodness, it's all a blur. I can only remember the following: calling some guy an "a$$ licker," saying I wanted to make out with a lady who peed her pants on purpose, something about growing boobs at age 13, and so on and so forth.

There was also some talk of camels? And doing some impromptu stretches on the office copier?

Good heavens.

After the podcast was finished, Nitmost and Vanilla both hung up--leaving me in a somewhat awkward conversation with RazZ (Don't you just love these screen names? Very super-heroesque.). He was like, "Well Amy, that was fun. Do you want to do it again sometime?"

I think I blushed a little, like I was being asked out on a second date--you know, instead of a podcast where I'm coerced to talk about 'that time I decided to poop behind a bush.'

I said "Yes."

Apparently, this podcast will be available for free on iTunes--which, by the way, puts me on equal footing with people like Justin Timberlake and Kenny Chesney.

I'll screen it first, and if it's any good, I'll tell you how to find it. But if I'm crazy lame, and it has the potential to make me lose my street credit as a funny girl, then you'll have to forget about the whole darn thing.

And in the mean time, I think I'll stick to writing.