tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50167553346623407832011-11-27T19:31:57.106-05:00I'm not a mommy, so this ain't a mommy blog. I'm not super-talented, so this ain't a blog about that, either. However, I can pee into a cup without getting any on me. How many people can say that?Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.comBlogger611100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-67394240537385410352009-10-27T10:46:00.006-04:002009-10-27T12:50:30.973-04:00

You can find my new blog (same great flavor, snazzy new layout) at www.dirtyhooker.org. It's a work in progress.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-49489367668793280132009-10-22T11:54:00.001-04:002009-10-26T16:18:21.302-04:00

At a friend's house the other day, I learned that children in a school in New Jersey aren't allowed to carry backpacks from class to class anymore, presumably because they're hauling weapons of mass destruction to history class. I know I would.When I was in high school, I had a bag that could hold about 4,000 pounds of crap. I carried all my morning books in that bag so I wouldn't have to trudge

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-32107600013439287482009-10-21T14:25:00.007-04:002009-10-21T14:58:44.552-04:00

You know what's sad? A little boy falling out of a helium balloon and going splat against the Colorado landscape. You know what's not sad? A helium balloon taking off by itself while a little boy hides in an attic.Move along, people! There's nothing to see here!I'm a cold-hearted bastard, though. When Devon told me there was a boy trapped in a balloon and they didn't know how to get him down, my

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-3188921061962018282009-10-19T22:19:00.001-04:002009-10-19T22:19:43.950-04:00

And by rich, I mean breathtakingly poor.Today, I discovered that the ads on my site have earned me 0.06 cents.Whoever you pity clickers are, thank you. All I ask is that when I'm a hobo, please don't let Devon kill me.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-62374947164401427662009-10-15T20:47:00.006-04:002009-10-15T20:57:59.418-04:00

My sister and I took Dad to the urologist today for a blood test to see how well his cancer meds are working, and I discovered the rich fantasy life my Dad has. He told his doctor all about the parties with girls, and how he drinks beer all day when he's not eating cake.The dude does eat a ton of cake, but I'm pretty sure the rest was bullshit.Dad may need to get shots that will chemically

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-48042880132972476272009-10-13T11:35:00.000-04:002009-10-13T11:39:41.126-04:00

I don't normally plug products, but this is So. Fucking. Awesome that I had to give it a shout-out.I mean, I wouldn't buy one, because I don't live in a dorm, but this makes me wish I did so I could decorate my room with giant condom wrappers. But then, if I did live in a dorm, I probably wouldn't have 50 bucks to spend on a pillow. For 50 bucks, this pillow would have to make me pizza and

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-2770055053048777732009-10-09T10:38:00.002-04:002009-10-09T10:42:29.349-04:00

I was really stoked about the 48 roles of toilet paper in my closet that I bought off of Amazon. Their Subscribe and Save system lets me have ridiculous amounts of toilet paper delivered to my apartment every six months, no shipping costs. I even used a gift certificate, so I spent $17 on 48 rolls of toilet paper.When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about becoming an astronaut, but this was way

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-82201683564067760812009-10-07T00:11:00.000-04:002009-10-07T12:10:53.172-04:00

I have a cold.I know, this is not unprecedented in human history. It isn't even a bad cold, at least not yet. But my throat is sore and my nose is runny.A more together woman would have brought tissues on the train, or maybe a nice lace hanky with her monogram in the corner, but I am not one of those women. So I spent the ride sniffling intermittently, which seemed better than letting the snot

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-65671025653507820962009-10-05T21:40:00.000-04:002009-10-05T21:41:12.908-04:00

It's been said before that Romeo and Juliet would have resolved much more happily had T-Mobile been around in Shakespeare's time. Juliet could have sent her beloved a text: "Hey, Romeo, luv u 4evah, don't kill urself." And Romeo could have replied: "U wanna hook up? C U in the crypt."It would have been awesome, and the Montagues and Capulets could have had a good, long laugh about their little

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-55448446691983540022009-09-28T16:08:00.011-04:002009-09-28T16:18:35.606-04:00

Having my dad sleep over our apartment is a weird experience -- partly because we don't have a bed set up for him yet, so I end up sleeping with dad and Devon takes the couch.Dad wakes up, like, every hour on the hour to take a leak. Seriously. His bladder must be the size of a shot glass. I'm so happy I declined the prostate option at conception.Every hour or so, Dad ambles out of bed and looks

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-38748617751332566622009-09-25T18:20:00.008-04:002009-09-25T18:29:24.300-04:00

Pet peeve of the day: Massage-therapy ads that promise to relax my soul.Leave my soul alone. If you are touching my soul, you are standing way too close. Back up before I bite you.This has been a public-service announcement from someone who wants you to back your shit away from her soul slowly and with your hands in the air.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-20062307219576491562009-09-20T22:16:00.010-04:002009-09-21T13:47:52.840-04:00

If anyone wants one, there's a kitty carrier lined with cat shit on my balcony, free just for you.I'd been planning to take the Fatass with me since before Mom died, but our moving plans derailed that temporarily. Didn't want three animals freaking out about the new place at once.So this weekend, I finally brought the Fatass home.It took a little coaxing with the end of a rolling pin to get her

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-37196665760269169122009-09-15T23:05:00.004-04:002009-09-15T23:20:57.048-04:00

Posted inside the Teriyaki Boy on 9th Ave. and 57th Street. It's like people WANT me to blog about them.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-50401526537531525372009-09-10T14:16:00.005-04:002009-09-10T14:38:16.459-04:00

I had to watch the presidential address, because, as a liberal, feminist, socialist, communist, fascist, Nazi, politically confused elitist, when my Messiah speaks, I listen. Also, because if I didn't, my entire office would be talking about it today, and I would be outed as the clueless plebe who blew the night watching the "Cake Boss" marathon.I was rewarded with Joe Wilson of South Carolina

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-66255498689609829092009-09-07T22:56:00.004-04:002009-09-07T23:54:11.145-04:00

Somewhere, in the mess of boxes I carted to our new apartment, I have a 5-pound container of Maxwell House coffee.I never wanted a 5-pound container of Maxwell House coffee.When I moved into my apartment in Dyker Heights right after my divorce, Mom took me to BJs and bought me enough food to feed a circus of nomadic acrobats. Of that stash, I still have the coffee and the restaurant-size box of

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-85255559846981614212009-09-03T18:14:00.006-04:002009-09-03T19:16:56.244-04:00

With the help of some wine and a bit of a mean streak, Devon and I have decided to quit our jobs to sell Rapture insurance.Yes, if you are certain you are going to be taken by our good Lord Jesus Christ at the end times, you can shield the selfish, lazy heathens in your family from poverty and starvation with our help. Your life insurance won't do Jack, since you won't be dead. You'll need

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-64985776971231688982009-08-31T13:32:00.006-04:002009-08-31T14:17:43.475-04:00

My new apartment comes with its very own 4-year-old girl. I wish I'd known that before I signed the lease.As we were unpacking our boxes yesterday, Fitz made herself a new friend. The kind who never leaves. The kind who wants to play with our swords. She and her mom finally left, for the second time, and Devon laughed when I put the chain on. Can't be too safe. A 4-year-old is notoriously hard

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-18073179785857084432009-08-28T12:04:00.003-04:002009-08-28T12:14:20.328-04:00

I took my dad to to the urologist yesterday to find out why his PSA level is so high, and he screamed like I've never heard a dude scream before.When we were done and waiting for the cab, Dad said: "He stuck a finger up my ass. It reminds me of the Army. Every once in awhile, they stick a finger up your ass. Every once in awhile."Dad's PSA level is 87, and his doctor says they're not going to do

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-33097357831762122332009-08-25T19:05:00.002-04:002009-08-25T19:08:03.977-04:00

These ads sure do uglify my blog. It's like a Yo Momma joke gone horribly awry. I promise, I will attempt to ease the ugly as I figure out what the hell I'm doing.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-18342187703699095832009-08-25T11:00:00.005-04:002009-08-25T11:16:47.986-04:00

Today begins my epic quest to stop biting my nails. Mavala STOP promises to break a three-decades-old coping mechanism with the power of really foul-tasting nail polish.Problem is, I'm pretty sure biting my nails was the only thing keeping me from killing you all.Devon has hinted that my hands are disgusting creatures of the night that should be hidden for the sake of human decency. Or maybe I

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-14657132894842472662009-08-18T20:10:00.001-04:002009-08-18T20:10:34.116-04:00

That was the conclusion I came to during my mother's wake. Her pale, dead body in her bed didn't creep my shit out the way her heavily made-up body did in a pretty party dress.Roman Catholics are fucked up.Also, when people say, "She looks so good," they are full of shit. She doesn't look good. She looks dead. She would look better in her kitchen making pancakes or inappropriately grabbing

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-75571379179145763762009-08-10T21:51:00.008-04:002009-08-10T22:27:06.923-04:00

Mom died last night at about 6:10 p.m. Devon and I were there when she took her last breath. The nurse and doctor confirmed it, but today, I still have this crazy fear that I shouldn't have let them do the autopsy, because what if she's still alive in there? What a nightmare, waking up during the middle of your own dissection.I have the crazy.I'd never been present for someone's last moment

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-30422138078082072572009-08-07T20:28:00.000-04:002009-08-07T20:28:39.691-04:00

I'm going to live in a cave. My cave will be equipped with electricity and plumping and things for Devon to do, because I want him in my cave. Everyone else can visit my dark, dank hole in the earth, except for people who suck. I have a list of people who suck, and those people will be pitched into the pit of fire, where they will keep my s'mores fire burning strong and bright. If you are reading

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-52379635401202528152009-07-25T20:56:00.005-04:002009-07-25T21:10:43.058-04:00

I made the Most Awesome Mac and Cheese in the World, and Dad. Devon and I were sitting around the table talking about nonsense when I was struck with brilliance: When I grow out of the noob zone in my crocheting, I'm going to open an Etsy store called the Dirty Hooker. It'll sell crocheted goods and other crafts, and it'll be totally awesome because hooker refers to both prostitution and crochet

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-49669173516334356452009-07-21T17:46:00.002-04:002009-07-21T17:54:59.934-04:00

I was calling around for some price quotes on 24/7 home care for mom, for if and when she comes home, and I had this conversation with the receptionist.Receptionist: So, what is her medical condition?Me: She is terminally ill.Receptionist: What?Me: Terminally ill.Receptionist: Does that mean she's gonna die soon?Me: Yes.Receptionist: Oh. Sorry.I can't be irritated. I'm still laughing too hard.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-14157018293965388002009-07-19T23:46:00.004-04:002009-07-20T00:04:53.423-04:00

So I'm sitting here at 11:47 p.m., eating Devon's tamales, which took about a thousand days to make because he made them from real Aztecs that he slaughtered in 1395, using his time machine made of used Prius parts and paper clips. I'm sitting here eating my tamales and wondering at the awesomeness that is today. No death threats. No bitching. No major health issues blew up in my face, and nobody

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-38216747923315671772009-07-15T10:49:00.002-04:002009-07-15T10:56:20.967-04:00

And busting up the neighbor's car.Dad snuck out of the house and smashed into the car in front of him trying to get out of his spot. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to have to deal with this until I had a 17-year-old kid, but my dad's a rebel and he's never ever been any good.We have definitely taken his keys now. And at least he crashed right in front of the house instead of three blocks away,

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-71974924723018055612009-07-13T13:04:00.003-04:002009-07-13T13:21:35.506-04:00

I'm fine with killing hobos. Someone's gotta do it. But even I have my limits, and those limits are at forcing people into PCP-induced homicidal rages.This is Devon's great plan in life in case the whole computer thing turns out to be a fad. It'll take him about 10 years to develop the biochemical background necessary to turn normal, mild-mannered citizens of earth into flesh-eating machines of

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-3457809695277813782009-06-29T10:33:00.002-04:002009-06-29T10:41:10.999-04:00

Devon and I are moving in September (because we were bored and didn't have enough to do), and this morning we were envisioning a conversation with the movers.Mover: How did you get dat king-size bed up here?Us: We folded it.Mover: How am I supposed to get it out?Us: Voodoo fucking magic. We don't care.Mover: Voodoo fuckin' magic dis, voodoo fuckin' magic dat. I can't believe dis shit.If anyone

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-23337482890349846312009-06-25T21:44:00.004-04:002009-06-25T22:18:55.452-04:00

Sometimes, life is a huge fucking disappointment. Like today, at the hospital, when I was waiting for mom to get out of surgery and decided to ingest calories for the sake of nourishment. The cafeteria tempted me with peanut-butter-and-jelly lolly pops. I thought to myself, "Self, this is the most amazing thing you have ever seen. You must make it your own."So I bought it. Turns out the only

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-32238150631000374072009-06-24T09:38:00.003-04:002009-06-24T09:48:56.261-04:00

A dirty, filthy lie that should never kiss its mother with that mouth. One day, when I am old and gray and relaying stories of my life to a trite soundtrack and spreading my arms wide at the edge of a boat, I will tell my granddaughter of the era when a whole city was duped into believing in the infrastructure fairy. What a bunch of suckers we were, back in the day.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-15794477051285104352009-06-12T22:23:00.003-04:002009-06-12T22:25:40.801-04:00

Oh Fitz, how I hateyou when you pee on the floor.You do it always.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-72313538999417917292009-05-19T16:36:00.005-04:002009-05-19T16:47:09.170-04:00

I stepped on a dead mouse at Austin's Cafe in Manhattan yesterday. I think I did a pretty good job of staying calm, at least on the outside. As I type this, I try not to think about how squishy its dead little body felt beneath my boot as I sat down for lunch with a friend. The conversation went something like this:Me: Is that what I think it is?Saul: No, it's just trash.Me: I really don't think

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-41095190302000439032009-05-12T15:37:00.000-04:002009-05-12T15:37:00.580-04:00

I lied. That puddle of pee is totally mine.I gave my mother plenty of warning that I was coming to visit, but she and dad are a combined 1,000 years old, so they were still out grocery shopping in the time it took me to get from Woodside to Howard Beach by bus.I tried to wait. For about three minutes. Then I decided to pee in the backyard.I climbed over the fence and the large air conditioning

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-3467911591267661862009-05-05T18:21:00.006-04:002009-05-05T18:36:43.660-04:00

I didn't even know what this was until I saw that someone had hit my blog searching for it. I still don't know what this is. Urban Dictionary says a cooch ball is "When your vaginal area has been been so torn up, it is swolen and appears as a ball between the legs." Then it gives an example."Matt: Damn taylor, you must be a slut!Taylor: Why do you say that?Matt: You have a huge cooch ball"Putting

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-69043458361263088682009-05-04T10:51:00.000-04:002009-05-04T10:51:09.385-04:00

I'm that chick who didn't get a cell phone until she was 24 because she didn't see any real use for it. I mean, why would I need a phone for when I'm out of the house? There are pay phones, and no one wants to talk to me anyway. And then text messaging changed my world. I could pass notes to the other kids while I was in class -- I mean, at work -- and never have to talk to people over the phone

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-74173121011878217552009-05-01T14:47:00.002-04:002009-05-01T14:52:37.179-04:00

I bought the WoW expansion pack Burning Crusade so I could up my skinning.Increasingly disturbed by the thought of skinning dead things and not getting any points for it, I paid $30 so I could rip digital skin from digital bodies.If anyone needs me, I'll be in my time-out corner contemplating my life.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-11791490039710894912009-04-14T21:48:00.002-04:002009-04-14T22:00:47.032-04:00

Yeah, I said it: Fuck pirates. Pirates used to be cool, and now those Somali bastards had to go and harsh on my wow. I want peg legs and eye patches and foul-mouthed parrots, not this death and destruction and real-life shit. Johnny Depp would never pull this crap. He'd swing from a vine looking all hot and stuff. That's what pirate-osity should be about. Pirates have no personal pride these

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-20930723475601637122009-03-20T11:38:00.005-04:002009-03-20T12:17:32.143-04:00

After Vista choked long and hard on Lord of the Rings Online, I decided to go with WoW. I mean, 10 million geeks can't be wrong, right? The level-10 Night Elf hunter I built during my trial period was fun. You've gotta love a chick in tight leather with thighs big enough to crush tanks like Dixie cups. At the end of my trial period, I was ready to pay for the privilege of spending many happy

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-85025245262987509882009-03-11T20:59:00.008-04:002009-03-11T21:54:53.244-04:00

But I know where you can find one, if you'd like to drive to Kensington, Md., and fish it out of a Dumpster.Devon and I drove down to DC to see Misty, his friend who was visiting from Colorado. She was a little nauseated after spending an hour in the car looking for a section of town that we never found because it probably got sucked into the Hellmouth. Devon thought a helping of homemade ginger

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-49838967999716209682009-02-27T14:22:00.004-05:002009-02-27T15:26:30.088-05:00

This is a test of the emergency comments system. This is only a test. One of you (you know who you are!) noted that she couldn't leave comments, so I'm asking that, if you have a moment, leave a message to this post (or another) so I can see whether it's a Blogspot problem or something else. If you've left a message and it hasn't posted, please let me know.So tell me about you day. Write angsty

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-65437200206652212562009-02-25T20:03:00.005-05:002009-02-25T20:19:06.564-05:00

With my 31st birthday a little over a week away, I've decided to try to arrest the march of time by getting myself a gym membership. Today, I bask in new-gym euphoria. I'm going to go five days a week! I'm going to do yoga and take belly-dancing classes! I'm going to learn kickboxing! I'm going to look svelte and strong and totally fucking awesome by June! Right after I finish this beer!I had to

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-87464675045462146512009-02-19T19:35:00.000-05:002009-02-19T19:37:44.264-05:00

I'm pleased to report that Fitz is still not dead.After an hour of barking her tiny head off, she finally got to see the vet, who put her under, cleaned her gums and pulled four teeth. Despite what all the cool kids told her, eating cat shit is NOT good for oral hygiene. Just say no, Fitz.She was barking so much that I had to take her outside. A large dog left a large-dog crap right in front of

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-63529003944657404302009-02-11T20:52:00.007-05:002009-02-11T21:21:48.057-05:00

So I was doing a little random Google-stalking of people I've lost contact with, and I noticed that an old foster sister of mine could have been on Facebook. I say could have been because I haven't seen her in 20 years, and I imagine she's changed since she was 4. The Facebook pic was of a young woman holding a toddler who looked exactly like she did at that age, leading me to believe 1) She

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-51084034897366555632009-02-05T21:14:00.006-05:002009-02-05T21:45:51.392-05:00

I'm such an Obama fangirl that it's getting embarrassing.The angel of journalistic balance is on my right shoulder, whispering sweet words of fairness and impartiality, while the devil of partisan whoring is on my left shoulder, telling me Obama is So. Freakin'. Awesome. I even had a dream last night that he invited me to join his meetings for a whole day. As Nancy Pelosi prattled on about

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-67651762009132486822009-02-03T21:00:00.004-05:002009-02-03T21:08:06.160-05:00

Don't die like this guy. Really, all your friends will laugh at you. You will not pass go. You will not collect $200. St. Peter will shun you. The virgins will all have headaches. I promise.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-57657025113158923632009-01-28T19:15:00.000-05:002009-01-28T19:12:13.296-05:00

Somebody smack me the next time I read comments posted on CNN. I did it today, and something inside me broke like Mickey Rooney in "Boys Town." Look, Wayne -- yes, I'm talking to you -- the fact that a scientific study indicates that people have a herd mentality even when the herd is dumb does not prove that evolution is wrong. I don't even know how you made that leap, but your shit's all

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-14888105477964519052009-01-20T19:23:00.006-05:002009-01-20T19:38:51.899-05:00

This morning, as we were getting ready for work, Devon noted that it would be nice to have a president who doesn't suck. I replied that, at the very least, it would be nice to have a president who isn't a war criminal.Lots can and will happen over the next four years, and Obama might turn out to suck and be a war criminal, but for now, we get to start over. We've engendered a little goodwill from

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-67690509562414426842009-01-16T16:40:00.000-05:002009-01-16T16:57:19.068-05:00

I know: Two posts in as many days is insanity. But this is an important service announcement, and the world needs to know.I want this in the sense that I'm looking at it right now, and as soon as I move on to something else, I will stop wanting it. But seriously, don't fuck with these ovaries. They've seen shit you can only imagine.

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-84696120395945605562009-01-15T22:16:00.003-05:002009-01-15T22:20:51.327-05:00

Warning: If you're offended by blog posts about cooch, turn back now. This one has a whole lotta vagina.In anticipation of No More Bush Day, I decided to go to the gynecologist and get my gear checked out. Truthfully, I would have done this anyway, because it's good to get your gear checked out. But the fact that my appointment fell a few days before the Big Event was still pretty neat.I waited

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-90903161165653203022009-01-12T15:27:00.000-05:002009-01-12T15:28:04.234-05:00

So I've been trying to figure out where I fall on the Data/Capri-Sun Intelligence Scale (with Data being super-smart and Capri-Sun being drinkable with a tiny straw).*When I hang out with Devon and his friends and they talk about tech stuff, I feel like I have neurological damage. One time, when John, Devon and I were at a bar in Jersey, my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I drooled a

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-13108404176831621732009-01-05T20:18:00.002-05:002009-01-05T21:01:40.421-05:00

The magic kind, not the 1/8 ounce kind, although they could have a metric fuckton of cocaine and I would never know, so I guess I shouldn't make declarative statements like that.I got back from my trip to Italy, and I should want to blog about that, but I find myself fascinated by the ads Facebook has targeted to my demographic. Facebook thinks I'm an underpaid, 30-something New Yorker who loves

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-59765808819362493952008-12-19T21:35:00.007-05:002008-12-19T21:55:42.991-05:00

We did the yearly Secret Santa gift exchange, which goes off pretty much the same way every year: I organize it, everybody waits until three minutes before gift time to run out and get a Starbucks gift card, one dude forgets, and we all wander away shaking our heads. Then I vow to myself to never organize this crap again.I got a large bag of holiday M&Ms, a jar of black-currant jelly and a wooden

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-16940488973744378442008-12-14T19:01:00.017-05:002008-12-15T13:26:00.300-05:00

I can post about this now because a few days have passed and Fitz is totally fine and not dead.I had the day off on Friday and went over to Mr. Kiwi, where I bought, among other things, a gigantic brownie that I planned to share with Devon and a friend later that night. I came downstairs from folding the laundry to find half a brownie and a very guilty-looking 7-pound dog.I don't know what I

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-43228681989019064022008-12-10T18:49:00.012-05:002008-12-10T19:46:46.433-05:00

With the newspaper industry spiraling into a vegetative state, I've been considering my career options. I'm seriously regretting that philosophy minor now, as awesome as arguing semantics for a whole semester was. English has been a surprisingly versatile degree, but getting married really screwed me over. Note to any young women reading this blog: Never follow your deadbeat husband up and down

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-78891887832070035282008-12-08T10:16:00.002-05:002008-12-08T10:38:59.802-05:00

Children's birthday parties are fascinating places to watch human behavior at its most petty and brutal. My friend's 5-year-old daughter's party was tame in comparison to some I've seen -- until we got to musical chairs.Musical chairs is a psychology experiment, conducted largely on the under-10 crowd, designed to separate the victims from the psychopaths. The point of the "game" is for a bunch

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-41448744010070012942008-12-02T17:19:00.014-05:002008-12-03T15:35:42.725-05:00

And I'm OK with that. It's important to support each other's goals. I just wish he'd be open about it. It's difficult to build a foundation of trust when one person won't 'fess up about where he hides the bodies. He keeps insisting he's not a serial killer, but he probably just thinks I'll be mad if I find out.We blew our way through season 1 of "Dexter," and he spent a lot of time waxing poetic

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-18427115821366518552008-12-01T17:58:00.006-05:002008-12-01T18:43:01.379-05:00

That's the only reason I can think of why they felt the need to confiscate my Bath & Body Works Japanese Cherry Blossom moisturizer and shower gel. These pleasantly scented $8.50 threats to national security made it through LaGuardia, but the folks at Denver International Asshats are obviously on top of their game. Last time it was my lavender-scented shaving gel. Interestingly enough, Devon made

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-2894816231013820042008-11-26T18:33:00.008-05:002009-01-20T19:41:14.073-05:00

So far, I've received two e-mails from Citibank assuring me that my accounts are FDIC insured.How comforting.Clearly, I need to find a new bank, but with the rate they're failing, I'm not even sure where to go. During the Depression, my grandparents kept their savings in the Bank of Old Mattresses, and that seems like a better idea every day. Especially if pirates snatch my savings. A Somali

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-40640258731668305052008-11-25T10:53:00.006-05:002008-11-25T14:21:42.150-05:00

Devon and I were watching an absolutely wretched episode of "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine" last night that sparked a debate about holosuites as sex toys.In that ep where Odo and Kira finally hook up after wasting most of the episode listening to lounge music in the holosuite, I wondered what freaky things people would do in there if Trek were more like real life -- or even more like "South Park."

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016755334662340783.post-69590584093674832722008-11-21T14:00:00.004-05:002009-01-20T19:40:49.420-05:00

When I Googled "pirates," I expected to get lots of baseball crap. But the Pittsburgh Pirates ended up being only the fourth hit down, preceded by Wikipedia entries on piracy and the video game "Pirates!" In first place was something relevant to my search -- a National Post article on pirates in Somalia. All of the Johnny Depp jokes have been made on Fark already, so I won't bother, but I don't

Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01143086822094447697noreply@blogger.com0