Pure Comedy

This blog is way overdue. So overdue, in fact, that I had to look back and make sure that I didn't write this already.

Farting. To me its pure comedy. I am a "laugher," and its easy to make me laugh, but when it comes to farting I crack up every single time. I laugh at fart stories, I laugh when others fart, I laugh when I fart, and I definitely laugh when Sweetpea farts. It cracks me up! I even laugh when I think about a farting incident that happened months ago. It never gets old. Case in point:

Last Christmas season, two of our favorite friends, Justine and Greg had their yearly tree trimming party. Its always a lovely get together and we were trimming the tree going through all of the pretty ornaments. We were all gathered around the tree, it was really normal and nice of all of us. Then one of their guests (the guilty shall remain nameless) says, "Shhhh everyone, did you hear that?" Then he farts. Loud. On Purpose. Of course I busted out laughing. And wasn't the only one. It was a great laugh. 15 minutes after the incident I turned to Janina and said, "I am still laughing about the fart." It was true. I was still laughing on the inside. In fact, I am still laughing about it 6 months later.

Farting is funny for a number of reasons. First off it makes a noise. Noises are funny. And fart noises are usually a surprise. Second, they stink. Now maybe the stink is a reason why farts may not be funny at all, but its quite the opposite. The gross stink creates a reaction that is funny. People make faces. People leave the room. People sometimes even get mad. Third, people "jazz" up there farts is various ways that makes the noise and the stink even funnier. Some people put a little leg lift into it. Some people do a fart fist punch or a fart crank. Some people throw up some finger guns. And of course there is the classic, "Pull my finger." And the main reason why farting is funny is because it's taboo. We aren't supposed to fart in front of people. So its either an accident or its an intentional dirty act. Either way it makes me laugh.

Fart stories are awesome. Many of you have shared your own stories with me, and you know how much they make me laugh. You can even re-tell a story to me that I have heard multiple times before and I will still crack up. For example, the following story has been told over and over again for the past 4 years, it never gets old. I believe Myfanwi told this story originally:

While on a crowded subway, a stink moved throughout the car. A poised gay man sat next to a large woman, and gave her the eye like she was guilty of dropping the bomb. The woman promptly turned to him and said, "You better don't! I saw you lean!"

Its a classic story that never gets old. "You better don't!" How freaking great is that!?

Here's the interactive part about this blog. Since we can all use more laugher in our lives I would like you all to post below with your own fart stories. You could be the farter, or you could have witnessed the fart, either way its funny, so post it! I know you all have stories, and I am sure I have heard some of them already, but even if they are repeats I will still laugh. Pass this along to friends and have them post their fart tales.

Farting = Pure Comedy

Personal Hell

I am not a very religious person. I have my beliefs, and such, but in general I am not the type of person that goes around referencing my religion. One of the things that do acknowledge is my belief in a "heaven" and a "hell." And in my daily routine I look at certain situations and I think, "If I am a good person this will be my heaven." or "If I am a miserable person this will be my hell."

Today I experienced one of my own personal "hells": Costco in Brooklyn. If I am a miserable nasty bitch I will spend eternity in the Costco on 3rd Avenue in Brooklyn. I will spend my afterlife dealing with rude ass people who NEED to bring their entire extended families to Costco. I will have to be in the presence of people who are buying gallons of grape juice, tube socks, folding chairs, and mega jars of peanut butter fighting over a pizza bagel sample while ramming into me with their overpacked carts. Now don't get me wrong, I realize that Costco has a purpose, but the one in Brooklyn needs to go.

If you dare to go there on a weekend you will drive around looking for a spot, and eventually have to settle for the "overflow" lot where you will have the pleasure of parking next to their "shopping cart graveyard" and walking by a gross strip club before you have to walk around the entire warehouse to the front entrance. Then you will have to fight for a shopping cart. You literally have to stalk someone for their shopping cart, wait until they are finished unloading and fight off other people for your god damn shopping cart! Once inside you have to witness the gluttony that is the American pasttime. People buying processed food, junk food, large screen televisions, and 4 of everything they need and don't need. Looking at people's carts is enough to make a person never want to eat again. And then there are the children. People bring all of their kids with them to Costco. All of them. They let these rugrats push the shopping carts, they let them run wild. Who told them that Costco is a playground? Who????? Leave the village at home people! Leave them at home!

Now I do feel that there are some good deals to be had. I buy the following at Costco: Advil, Tampons, Ziploc bags, and Dishwasher Tablets. If we are entertaining I may go there to pick up a few things. And I might buy one of the big things of laundry detergent if I have the room for it. In my opinion most of the things they sell there are ridiculous. You can buy 5 things of dental floss. I am sure it is a "good deal" but how long would it take to use that much floss? Its madness.

For the record I do not pay for my own membership at Costco. My Mother supplies me with her additional card. My Mom still insists on going there, even though it is only her and my Dad at home. She buys the mega bag of baby spinach, and then she tries to pawn it off on me. I appreciate the free spinach, but I have no idea why she buys it.

So yes, if I continue to yell at people in my head to get off of the elevator faster, my personal hell would be to spend eternity in Costco on 3rd Ave. God help me.

The Dreaded

You know how I feel about food. I eat food. I talk about food. I cook food. I blog food. I heart food. Not in an obsessive way. In a loving way. I appreciate food. Its a source of much happiness.

I am here today to blog about the most dreaded part about food. It makes me unhealthy. Due to this side effect, I must "diet." Not to get skinny (although being "less fat," since I will never be skinny, is a nice bonus). But to stay healthy. Genetics dealt me a raw hand when it comes to the chemistry inside of me. Heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure. It sucks my butt. (and makes it big.)

So here I am, on day 4 of my "new leaf." (Leaf = lifestyle and lettuce.) I am not on a particular diet, and I am not torturing myself, aka starvation. But I am taking into count everything I put in my mouth. I write it all down to keep me honest. Its not an easy task. I am also making better choices, trying to cook more at home, and I am skipping the afternoon sweet/salty cravings. And GODDAMN its hard.

Food is just so much fun. Fun=Food. Food=Fun.

My ties to food and happiness run deep. Recently while hanging out with my 1st nanny, Joyce and her baby, I notice Joyce giving the baby a cookie when she was crying. I said to Joyce, "Did you do that to me? Cause I am having issues now." Yes. Cookies stop me from crying. Maybe not actual tears, but figuritive tears. Ask anyone who has delayed me eating about "Hungry Alaina" and they will confirm what a bitch I am when hungry. Derek is a pro at this. As Derek says, "I give you something to eat, and watch the transformation." That funny thin husband of mine, who I love. My Dad is guilty of planting my love of food in me at a young age. When I was a little girl my Dad worked nights bartending. He used to pick me and my brother up from school. Everyday, and I mean EVERYDAY, I got a chocolate on a stick and my brother got a Matchbox car. And guess what? My skinny brother LOVES cars and I love chocolate. Nice.

Now I would rather be how I am, then be one of yous people who are afraid of food. You know who you are! You look at it. You smell it. You touch it with your dirty fingers. You might even eat it. But after you do, you sit there and worry about what that cookie is going to do to your delicate figure. You freak out about a little indulgence here and there. Life is too short.

Oh well. Such is life. As Derek says, "you don't get dealt all of the cards." I have a kick ass husband, a cool dog, my family rocks, I have a good job, a nice apartment, and the best friends a girl can ask for. Sometimes I think life is too good, and that there is "boogie man" around the corner waiting to ruin it all. Then I remember, "oh yeah----- still fat." All is right in the world.

Restaurant week is coming up (7/10-7/14 & 7/17-7/21)...... Who wants to get happy with me???

(This weekend Jana & Vinny's BBQ is going to be a source of happiness. I am making california rolls! They are the only people who I can honestly say out do Derek and I in the food department when it comes to hosting a party. Outstanding.)

Almost the Coolest Thing!

As Derek and I were driving home from our weekend in the Catskills, we noticed a mini-van with the vanity plate, "BROOKLYN." We were blown away. I mean of all of the cars, on all of the highways, we happen to be driving behind the car that was able to secure "BROOKLYN" for a vanity plate. How freaking cool is that.

We folllowed the mini-van for a decent amount of time. The entire time we were totally impressed by the "BROOKLYN" license plate. And you know that Derek, the unofficial King of Brooklyn, was even a bit jealous.

Then the other shoe dropped. As we went to pass the mini-van I noticed the license plate was actually, "BRODKLYN." The "D" totally looked like an "O" from 20 feet away. The mini-van gets kudos for a clever solution. But it totally wasn't as cool as "BROOKLYN" would have been.

(This weekend has been filled with interesting vanity plates. We met a guy names Big Paulie, who had "BIGPAULIE" for a license plate on his white towncar, with blue roof.)