Friday, August 20, 2010


I had the misfortune of being seated next to a date. The young lady on the date was beautiful and elegant. She was a Parisian babe with shy mannerisms and aggressive sex appeal. She was escorted by her photo shopped date who was clearly not ONLY a disappointment to her but to all of humanity. Clearly, he was out of his league with this French fox darned in white jeans (which is a daring feat for any woman to pull off). I was having dinner with a friend of mine that night and she was running late, so naturally I became deeply involved in this couple's date. I over heard they met on He was VERY excited with the match but she seemed VERY confused! My friend eventually arrived. We ordered dinner and we caught up. My attention was diverted from the date during dinner. After dinner my friend excused herself to go to the rest room. Once again i tuned in. I became refocused on this awkward date. The man probably in his early 30's looked like he was still a virgin. After consuming a 1/2 glass of chardonnay, he was confident enough to summons up his alter ego, who was apparently Sid Vicious. He started bragging about his experience with drugs. He started interrogating 'Snow White' on her drug resume. She confessed she never tried drugs. He suddenly got a surge of confidence, passed judgement on the girl for never experimenting with heroin and continued to press on with his line of bullshit!! I have been around the block, and can spot a nerd conjuring up stories he probably googled or saw on intervention. Shortly after, my friend returned from the bathroom and we decided to skip desert and just get the check. In the interim his date excuses herself to the bathroom. It took us about a half an hour to get our check. His date was STILL in the bathroom. Eventually we paid the check, got up to go and as we were leaving, I bent down and whispered in his ear, "she's been in the bathroom a long time. You better go check on her, she could be shooting up."

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


I'm a little bit of a crisis addict ever since the clock struck 40....THREE years ago! Now I'm completely PANICKING! Still don't know IF I want to have a kid. I think I do....but then I have nightmares that I left my baby in a drawer for DAYS completely unattended! OR I'll have very confusing dreams that my infant magically transforms into a puppy and lastly into a cat. I'm guessing because cats are the least dependant and easiest to manage for me. I've always been wary of having children for many reasons that are extremely plausible to me and my mother. Recently, I've been ambivalent because it's ALL about CHOICE and CHANGE and i feel as if my CHOICE will become defunct and CHANGE (having a baby at this point in my life) may cause suicide. Not only my suicide, but my husbands and a few others that shall remain anonymous. Anyway, I can easily think of reasons not to have children and ALWAYS struggle with logical reasons TO have children. Here are 10 reasons i feel are legit reasons to reconsider this baby craving.

1. There is a genetic component to insanity
2. My mother's legs look like a road map...DON'T wand varicose veins
3. I'm self loathing enough ....DON'T NEED CLONES!!!
4. Don't want to wear my daughters hand me downs ( assuming I have a daughter)
5. Don't want to be facebook friends with my kids
6. Don't want to be older than the principal
7. If I end up hating my husband...don't want a constant reminder of him (supposing it's a boy)
8. Don't want to become addicted to breast feeding as a form of losing weight
9. How does postpartum and menopause mix?
10. I've been second my whole life and I'm not sure I'm ready to be third...or LAST for that matter!!!

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Autism speaks...PMS SCREAMS!!!!!!!!!

Not in the mood at ALL today! Let me just start by saying that I HATE EVERYONE TODAY!!!!! Our house has been under construction for the past 4 months which feels more like a F-IN YEAR!!!! And although Andre (our Russian live-in construction dude) is lovely, I'm loosing it!!! My husband is "WILD HOGGING" it in "FLAHRIDAH" with his "mid-aged" buddies, and I'm stuck at home with a Russian and 7 Mexican guys. Granted, I feel like Snow White because they all come up to my vagina; but I'm a little tired of Russian talk radio and Mexican music. In addition, our next door neighbors just rented their basement out to a Russian guy who has no boundaries!!! He's already parking right in front of our house and has blocked our mailbox in. I'm ready to ring his doorbell with Andre (also my translator), and tell him to finger himself!!!!! I remember I parked in front of my neighbors house ONCE for 10 min and her half dead husband was aggressively ringing our doorbell and demanding we relocate. I don't want to start an ALL OUT war over a parking space. After all, I really do like them. However, on days like this not even a cute puppy is safe. Only kidding PITA!! I should be so lucky that my blog pisses them off and becomes the talk of the town! Aside of ALL that, I just saw a movie on LMN (need to stop watching that channel). It really makes you paranoid! Husbands cheating with best friends and babysitter. Or just pain poisoning their spouses. Anyway, today I saw "LOVE LETTERS" (very clever title). Patty Duke (always Patty Hearst to me), plays a 50 year old that "accidentally" gets pregnant by her ever older husband. And they 'struggle' at first, but soon come to realize that it's the greatest thing that's ever happened to them! At 43 I found this to be very 'hopeful', just in case...then I noticed that the guy playing their 30 year old son, was a really good friend of mine, Max Martini. We used to bartend together and now he's a successful actor. So I felt 'hopeful' about possibly having a child at 50 and deflated about the fact that Max has moved on to be a successful actor. Especially, because I just picked up a bar shift. After ALL that I go to the gym on Staten Island. Which is like walking into a 'straight' gay bar. And after SUFFERING through a work out, because I'm desperately trying to maintain a youthful body. I drive home only to be stopped two feet away from my driveway. Apparently, there was a loose wire and Verizon was blocking off the entire street to put up the line. The cars are piling up behind me. I'm pissed! And I can see the Verizon guy doesn't give ONE SHIT that we are all annoyed! He is passive aggressive because he HATES his job more than he HATES his wife, and that's A LOT OF HATE!!! Now I'm vein popping mad and I decide to abandon my car up the block and walk home. I walk to my house only to see the Russian is parked in front of our driveway again!!!!!! Now I'm fuming! I squeeze in between his car and our mailbox to grab the mail and walk into the house only to be further annoyed with Andre who has boobie trapped the house even more than before. Walking in the house is like tip-toeing in a mine field. Anyway, I'm playing limbo with tape that's blocking off rooms, cement drying, wires hanging, and wet paint. I haven't seen Zimba (our cat), for days! I check to see if her food is dwindling so I'm assuming she's still alive and hiding in the wreckage. Unless, of course the Mexicans are eating it. Anyway, I finally walk into our bedroom (my safe place), to place the mail on the bed and I notice that my husband has a check from google ADsense. I'm the one who inspired his blog! And it all started from my best friend who insisted I start a blog. Anyway, long story short he's already make more money that me, AGAIN!!! Further more, I can't yell about it to him because he's reliving his youth on his motorcycle run or as I refer to it as a "crisis-run!" In any event I realize that the anger I'm feeling is PMS. And I think to myself, look on the bright least you're still getting it!!!!

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Sometimes you feel like a nut...sometimes you ARE!!!!

"Normal," the literal definition is: conforming with or constituting an accepted standard, model or pattern; especially, corresponding to the median or average of a large group in type, appearance, achievement, FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, etc.; natural; standard; regular. As time progresses, so does our knowledge of "abnormal," which is incidentally the "new normal." She's "kooky." He's OVERLY cautious. She's highly psychic. She's a conspiracy theorist. He's a genius. She's eccentric. He's flamboyant. He's VERY opinionated. He's SO charismatic. She's EXTRA organized. He's anal. She's VERY blunt. He doesn't have a 'filter.' She doesn't have boundaries. He's moody. She's an airhead. He's controlling. He has a temper. She's NEEDY. He's down in the dumps AGAIN! He's self absorbed. He's anti social. She's a loner. He's unemotional. She's TOO emotional. She's hyper. She's a vegetable. She gets panic attacks, etc.

Back in the day we considered these among many others qualities, interesting character traits, or idiosyncrasies of certain individuals. A "uniqueness" all their own. Clearly, this "uniqueness" has become pandemic! Therefore, we had to explore the nature of this behavior, and although all the descriptions above remain the same...the titles are different. In fact, if translated today they would sound something like this: She's histrionic. He's paranoid. She's schizophrenic. He's a paranoid schizophrenic. He has multiple personality disorder. He's OCD. She has turrets. She's bipolar. She has A.D.D. He's psychotic. She's a depressive. He's a sociopath. He's a manic depressive. She's manic. He has A.D.H.D., etc. I like to postulate...Are we ALL mentally disturbed to some degree? Or are we incredibly interesting? Is the cup half empty? Or is it half full? The more we come up with a label and a solution, the more we accept our fate...WE ARE ALL NUTS!!!!!

Saturday, April 10, 2010

PORN damns my beaver!

I can't think of anything that dries up every orifice in my body quicker than porn! Two naked, superficial, sweaty, self loathing people trying to 'sell sex.' I don't need an implanted woman and a self absorbed closeted "bundle of sticks" to get me in the mood. What ever happened to subtlety? That's what makes this lioness roar. LOOK we're fuc#ing! I said LOOK! Now I'm taking it from behind. Now I'm sucking his 'hairy nose.' Now I'm faking an orgasm. Damn I'm good! Hope it was good for you too! I'd rather suffer thru a Jackie Collin's novel or watch Wild Kingdom on Nat Geo. That would motivate my 'beaver' to get to work more than the incentive of two people who most likely HATE SEX because it's a JOB!!!

Thursday, April 8, 2010

What doesn't kill you...only makes you MORE JADED!!!!!

Astoria Kaufman Studios scouted the next 'child star' when I attended P.S. 166. They came to my 6th grade class scrutinized each of us with their "expert eyes" and upon examining every child....CHOSE my best friend.
It didn't kill me....

When I was fatally in love with Spiro, (Greek boy from the hood) he was conflicted with the tormenting job of choosing between me and my best friend Josephine, and he chose HER.
It didn't kill me...

When I desperately wanted to excel and took an exam to attend Stuyvesant Jr High, (a school for gifted children), despite shoving a Palm Sunday crucifix down my shirt as a good luck charm, I FAILED.
It didn't kill me...

When my boyfriend who I thought would be my future husband, cheated on me with a girl I thought I had a better chance with...
It didn't kill me...

When ALL my friends in comedy have superseded me with their soaring careers...
It didn't kill me....

It DIDN'T however, make me stronger either.
It DID however make me bitter and cynical.

So, in my opinion. What doesn't kill you, DOESN'T make you stronger.
What doesn't kill you ONLY makes you MORE JADED!!!

SPINSTER: The new Independant Woman!

Yes! It's hard to believe that just 20 years ago, me and so many of my "gal pals" would be considered "old maids." The daughters of many worried parents who secretly wished their daughters were lesbians rather than the alternative. The girls that were last to be picked on a team. Or even worse, the girls that were benched during a game. At least being "gay" meant they were "happy" and had an excuse for not wedding "Prince Charming," and bearing his litter of heirs. Well, thank God for the great equalizer! Woman's equality ( and we have a long road to go) comes with a price. And I'm not so sure that's a bad thing. Women are no longer expected to get married and have children. They can date endlessly until their vagina's fall off and freeze their eggs (among numerous other procedures), to put the bun in the oven 'on hold.' That doesn't mean the bun is 86'ed, it's just a ball of dough in the fridge waiting to be baked.

Yes! Today's spinster has that kind of pull. Today's spinster is hotter than yesterday's cheerleader. Today's spinster doesn't need to get married, because she doesn't need a husband. She doesn't feel incomplete without children, because she remembers how miserable her parents were! AND if we're going to learn from our parents mistakes...getting married and having children should TOP the list!!! Instead of repeating history, today's spinster CHANGES history. Today's spinster is busy, busy, busy! She is hot, and soaring upwards! So chin up Mom's and Dad's! Don't worry about your daughters! If they're not hibernating with a bear, they're violently stroking their cats at night. But either way, they're HAPPY!!!

Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Tomorrow is my beloved father's birthday. I thought an honorable way to pay homage to this man I referred to as 'dad,' would be to write about him in his memory. Yianni, as his mother named him, was born appropriately on April fools day. Not because he was a fool by any means! Simply because by nature he was a very trusting soul. He actually believed in people and trusted they were truthful. Disheveled in his appearance, Yianni was sloppy and unkempt. He had unpredictable mannerisms and weird affectations that were positively alien to those who witnessed them. He was completely uncoordinated and clumsy in his speech. His sentences seemed cryptic and each word was so grossly mispronounced, we quite literally had to decipher each word as if we were playing a never ending game of scrabble.

He was the image of a man one may choose to edit out of their consciousness. He looked beaten and exhausted. His hair was clumped up on the top of his head like a birds nest. He looked as if he had just narrrowly escaped death...very skillfully, yet again! He was, if truth be known, on a very vacuous level an embarrassment to me most of my teenage life. He wasn't going to make the cover of GQ or win any awards any time soon. In fact, he was clinically deaf, sporting an antiquated hearing aid that stuck out of the side of his head like a fetus, AND he was legally blind. He wore these thick glasses resembling headlights. Driving with him was always a near death experience and no wonder! What we essentially had in control of our vehicle was "the Pinball Wizard.' He was a real estate broker and his legacy emulated that of "Death of A Salesman." In short, this man seemingly struggled effortlessly. He was the father of an autistic child before autism could speak. At a prehistoric time when autism was mislabelled 'retarded.' He was under paid, under laid, and painfully DEVALUED! Despite it all, this man woke up every morning @ 7am for 50 years and went to work. He came home every night @ 7pm with a smile and a story. He was a great storyteller. He told 'big fish' tales that had us engaged and wondering if my father believed the fictitious stories he told. He did not drink and he NEVER laid a hand on us. That was Despina's (my mom) department. He was as gentle as a lamb, EXCEPT during football, baseball and basketball season. A fervent lover of sports, he would often scream or holler at the TV during ALL games as if he was the coach from the couch. He would get so heated, that it would set off his hearing aid into a deafening pitch which immediately provoked and aggravated my brother into a banging fit. An autistic child's favorite pastime!

Yes, Yianni was in arguably as imperfect as they come. Yianni was the best kept secret. He may have left the world unnoticed by most....but to me he is the very reason I breathe, impart love and lend laughter into the world through my chosen path as a Comic. In essence, he really is a part of me that lives on. He was my inspiration, my mentor, my determination and my beloved father. I love you Dad. Rest in peace.

Your loving daughter,


Monday, March 29, 2010

You know we're in a recession when......

I want to go to church to pray about the economy, but I can't afford the COVER CHARGE! Recently, I felt the need to become more spiritual and reconnect with my Greek Orthodox roots. Being inquisitive most of my life I explored several different paths that would make my ancestors cringe. Orthodox being the literal definition of 'true opinion' and Greek being the literal voice of my mother threatening us every Sunday morning right before church: ' you hev unteeel I count tew 3 tew get out from bed and get readee for-eh church!!!!' So, as you can see the combination lead to a path of rebellion. Or as some may refer to as: A path to perdition. In any event for whatever reasons, (and there are always reasons), I felt the desire to reconnect with my faith. Being a comic is not exactly a spiritual path. Laughter is the greatest thing in the world, but content is scrutinized constantly...or at the very least 'unholy' by many standards. I woke up Sunday very early which is a very difficult thing for me to do, because I'm out doing comedy on Saturday nights until at least 1am and by the time I drive home its as late as 2am sometimes. Anyhoo, diligent to pursue my reawakened spiritual path I got up (reluctantly, and reminded myself it was for a good cause), got showered and dressed for church. Its been a while since I've been to church so a very superstitious part of me felt as if the minute I stepped into church, I would hear the harrowing voice of God scolding me with dialogue from the exorcist. "GET OUT!' When I got there I walked over to the candle station and bought or 'donated' a couple of bucks for the candle, (which seemed reasonable...after all, wax doesn't grow on trees), then I walked to one of the pews in the back and sat myself down in the isle seat (prefer it on airplanes and in church). I was desperate for some prudence. I was all ears when the priest proceeded to give the liturgy. Immediately right in the middle of his sermon my eye was pulled to the bottom of his garment or very ornate robe. I was fixated on his feet. He was wearing these cowboy boots just as ornate as his robe. they had silver custom made tips and silver backs, complete with spurs. This is not a hyperbole. I looked around to see if anyone else noticed it? How could they not???? I mean his feet were fully exposed for that very purpose. He was showing off his ostentatious boots and he was unapologetic! Well, over stated boots are not really my thing at church. Basically, they distracted me and I couldn't focus on the sermon. I have A.D.D., A.D.H.D, O.C.D, nuff said! He lost me! I wanted to say: 'Father know your demographic,' this isn't a gay bar or a rodeo. I like your duds, but you lost me!' Believe me I love to show off the twins but how distracting would that be at church? I also would love to wear spandex and purple lipsick to court, but again it's just a little inappropriate for that setting. Just as I was starting to refocus I noticed they were passing a basket around. I reached into my pocket and donated a couple of bucks. Fifteen minutes later.... right in the middle of the sermon they pass another basket around. I donate another couple of bucks. 20 minutes after that....they pass yet ANOTHER basket around and I COMPLETELY IGNORE IT!!! I can feel myself getting angry! How many times are they going to pass that basket around? Between his boots and the baskets I was so dizzy, I needed a drink and couldn't wait for communion. Before we could even get to that point they announced that they are going to be collecting more money. Only this time they wanted each person individually to walk to the front and donate money. I was thankful I was in the isle seat because I was plotting my escape. I was tapped!! The well was empty! I had lint in my pockets! In short, I was broke!!! Now they were individually calling upon trustees of the church who have donated superfluously to the church. And they started somewhat applauding or praising their generosity. This became a sermon of money!! And I left feeling ANGRY!!! Better than the poor schmuck who might leave feeling guilty. I have through out my life been confronted with this very same problem in other faiths, in other churches, other religions, other spiritual forums. WHY does it always come down to the mighty dollar? I'm by no means adverse to donations and have held numerous benefits throughout the years as a comic and entertainer to help those less fortunate or in need. I believe there are good churches, good priests, good pastors, Rabi's, monks, nuns, PEOPLE! But it deflates me just a little every time I run into this GREED!! And cant help thinking....'is it really going to the poor? or is it going into the priests bank account?' That being said if home is where you hang up your hat....then enlightenment surely comes from within. All you have to do is maintain an open heart and mind.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

infomercials are making BILLIONS! Why am I POOR??!!

At first, these intrusive 'short film' commercials were played for the insomniac with an overactive brain which left them wide awake. To my chagrin, I am one of those people. I flip through the channels aimlessly looking for a 'quick fix' or any form of inspiration at 2am. An inkling of 'false hope' that will satisfy me or get me through the night. After the economy took a DIVE, these infomercials bombarded prime time tv. They are on 24/7 selling their inane inventions for $5, $10, $20. Whatever it takes to rack up the numbers in sales! Naturally, I was annoyed at first! These F-in commercials should only be on when I'm drunk. What in Sally's name is going on here? Amazingly enough, the time change had an opposite effect on me. During late night these commercials seemed to inspire me. At prime time they did nothing but enrage me! Who the hell is buying this mass production of SHITE??!!!!

It started with the invention of Snuggies. What f#$king STONER or DRUNKARD came up with that idea? Have you ever stumbled out of a bar and put your coat on backwards? Or someone Else's coat on backwards. I have MANY friends that could be considered 'genius' by the simple act of stupidity, confusion or intoxication. Likewise, ever stumble into your bathroom in the middle of the night slightly disorientated? And realize your robe is on backwards? INSTANT BILLIONAIRE!!! Only difference b/w us and them...COMMITMENT!! Yes, they were committed to their ideas as ridiculous as they are!

Recently, I saw the MOST laughable, ridiculous, F-ed up invention I HAVE EVER SEEN!!! And, my personal favorite. Especially because I am a fitness instructor and personal trainer for the past 15-20 years. The 'Shake Weight!' A weight that you frantically, (pardon my french) 'jerk off' in effort to work out your triceps. I would be VERY disappointed if the 'master mind' behind this invention wasn't a woman! After all, this is what MOST, if not ALL women try to achieve while giving a 'handjob' by killing two birds with one stone. Please their man AND improve their triceps. It's the ONLY thing I can think of when I see a woman with well defined triceps...behind that woman there's a VERY HAPPY MAN!!!! So it is true behind that well adjusted man, there is a STRONG WOMAN!!! Again, only difference b/w us and that 'genius' is commitment at ANY COST!!!!

We have also become inundated with penis enlargements! We are obsessed with intrepid penis's. Really ladies? I have a very small vagina. In fact, I call her 'vaganita.' A very elegant and fragile name. If I see something that can physically rip me in half, at some point that becomes 'purely decorative' (that's exactly why I married an Irish man). I can twist it into animals shapes or place it over the mantel or EVEN throw it on the couch as another 'useless' pillow, BUT I'm not doing Lamaze to get the F'er in OR having a suzerain to get it back out again!!!

The one commercial that is by far played the MOST, is EXTENZ. What malevolent scientist came up with that invention or name for that matter?? We can pretty much guess how the name was conceived. He tried his pill to see if it works and he said: "This EXTENZ my dick!" Vuala! instant billionaire! And the commercials are SO unstoppably GAY!!! (not homosexual gay, HS gay). 'Making love is wonderful again....and the size? Well, that can be fun too!' 'Tearing up a twat...well that can be fun too!' The women on the commercial seem 'stepfordized' to anything going on around them. 'I like riding a horse...and the size? That can be fun too!!!!" I want to invent a rebuttal pill to extenz and I'll call it: "WE'RE ONLY HUMAN DAMMIT!"

So class what have we learned here today? Every 'genius' idea is spawned by drugs!! So, drugs are not bad! Not committing to your ideas while you're on drugs? A CRIME!!!!!!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

GREYHOUND: Deliverance on Wheels!

I had the unfortunate experience of traveling on Greyhound from Boston - NYC. I SWORE I would NEVER subject myself to the atrocities of Greyhound traveling EVER AGAIN! Like most promises i make to myself...i broke this one wide open. I get to the bus station and make my way to buy a ticket. I'm the only one in line except for the person in front of me. It seems the guy buying a ticket and the ticket seller ( a very chatty lady..diarrhea of the mouth infact..) have A LOT to talk about! SO much to talk about that i missed the next bus and had to wait for the 11:30am bus which was an hour away. In Boston's South Station that feels more like an eternity. So naturally, now im F'IN pissed! Bitch! And when i get up to the counter and say 'hello' she suddenly has 'lock jaw' and can't speak! Anyway, after purchasing my ticket i walked to my gate. I was in gate 3. The Gate line was already 1/2 full with 'better safe than sorry' ( and i do stress SORRY!) people eagerly 'marking their territory' lest they get stuck with an 'undesirable' seat which in my opinion emcompasses the whole bus. There they were an HOUR before departure as if it were black Friday or they were waiting on line for an American Idol audition! I was just jealous that i wasn't as comitted to the cause of finding an ideal seat! I refused to stand in line for that long, especially because i LOVE to wear 9" heels!

Approxiamately 1/2 an hour prior to departure I made an executive decision to join the 'group' out of fear that i may get stuck near the Greyhound bathroom, (which deserves it's own blog). I walked over to the line now 3/4's full and immediately was annoyed by the 'cheaters' in front who kept leaving their designated spots to go to McDonald or to buy coffee or to go to the bathroom several times...HOLD IT IN like the rest of us!!! The first and second person on line had formed an alliance. They took turns leaving 20 minutes at a time watching each other's stuff. I referred to them as the 'front line mafia.' I was fuming because ANYONE can have f_ _ _ ing someone watching their stuff and go for a massage! The point is you must 'suffer' for the privelege of being at the head of the line! Being first means you get to 'pick' the seat of your choice. And on Greyhound that is a HUGE perk!!! Exhausted already, I was wondering where the 'F-bomb' bus was??!! Finally is saw the abomination rolling into the gate. The bus driver got out of the bus looking exhausted, disheveled and in need of another 'meeting' before he starts hitting the crack pipe on our little road trip. Let's just say i NEVER feel entirley safe!!

I started to observe that the people in line were getting restless and antsy. Not in a 'i can't wait to get on the bus!' way but in an anxious way. As if, they were concerned that some last minute passenger with BIG BRASS one's may dethrone their front line status by cutting in front of the line. Everyone was on the defensive, especially the front-liners who had the most to lose. Well, true to their fear...I noticed an elderly man hobbling over with a cane and a enormous sense of entitlement. He was carrying a shopping bag with an exposed ticket laying on top. He was also talking to himself. He walked directly to the girl who was first on line and nonchalantly asked her to move her bags. He then proceeded to cut in front of her without any protest from her. She seemed caught off guard and didn't know how to react to this mans aggression. The second woman in line became VERY unnerved! She was a Jamaican woman and was NOT HAVING IT!!! She confronted the 'weak link' in front of her. "Why you let him cut in front of you girl?" The girl felt deeply ashamed and looked blankly at the Jamaican woman without a response. A few seconds later she redeemed herself and asked the man if he had a priority boarding pass? He responded 'yes.' Which i knew was a lie, and moments later he was exposed when the bus driver announced priority seating and he didn't budge!! The Jamaican woman glared at him. I tried to calm her down by explaining to her that (at the risk of sound indelicate), the man was NUTS!!!!! She looked at me and informed me that he was on a cell phone and quite sane. I tended to disagree, but who knows?!!

Upon entering the bus he courteously gestured for the girl in front to go first. He then tried to make his way behind her, but the Jamaican woman WASN'T HAVING IT!!!! He managed to squeeze in right after her cutting off a greasy little college student, who probably felt like he fulfilled his humanitarian requirement for the day. By the time I got on the bus I was sure i would be stuck near the 'shit stall.' To my surprise and delight the front seat was unoccupied. I was thrilled!! Because that was my preferential seat!!! I get car sick and am always in danger of vomiting all over the joint. Granted the bus already smelled like vomit mixed in with the faint smell of ass, but i didn't want to add to the stench! I couldn't believe how lucky I was ( born on the 13th..not a lucky number for me. Lucky for Johnny Cash if he says so....) I plopped my bags down to prevent anyone else from sitting next to me. I wanted to be alone! SCREW EVERYONE!!!! Anyway, just as i was about to sit down i noticed a foul odor. I smelled my arm pits to make sure it wasn't me. And it wasn't....i looked back and what did I see? The elderly man NOT on a cell phone BUT talking to himself. I WAS RIGHT!!!! I looked for the Jamaican woman so I could throw it in her face but she was ALL the way in the back sitting right near the 'shit stall' what was she thinking? In front for that? Clearly, she must had a weak bladder!!! Turns out he was schizophrenic and i had to listen to this mad man rave about the government and Barack Obama being the 'real' racist and there's going to be an investigation and something about Dukakis and JUST as I was about to turn around and tell him to SHUT THE "F" UP!!! he said a word 'pythonistic' and then on his own volition, explained it meant 'snake-like.' Like 'a snake in the grass.' I knew pythonistic meant 'snake like,' but i never heard it used before. It may not even be a word, but i could still use it! Anyhoo, long story short...I LIKED IT!!! I bailed on telling him to shut up, because I learned something. The bus driver was NOT HAVING IT!!! He was black and couldn't tolerate his vomit any longer!! Can't say I blamed him!!! HE was not only sick in the mind but had sick opinions! He ignored the bus driver after being told to shut up. It took a skinny white woman who looked like a librarian to shut him up! It reminded me of the scene from "Tommy Boy," when Tommy Boy was on his sail boat fighting with those punks and it took the girl to scare the crap out of them!

After he shut up it was awesome! I started looking around and observed other drivers on the road. I was disgusted to see that 90% of people LOVE to pick their noses while driving!! 85% of these people LOVE or feel compelled to actually eat it!!! Sick world!! My Greyhound excursion finally came to an end 'on time' no less. As soon as i exited the bus I VOWED NEVER TO GO GREYHOUND AGAIN!!! If I MUST take the bus i'm going FUNG WAH! Asians are clean and those buses go 90 miles an hour not to's only $20!!! NUFF SAID!!!

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Looking Good! FEELING GOOD!!!!!!

I was a fitness instructor at Lucille Roberts for the past 20 years. I am also a personal trainer and I work primarily with women and obese men who find the gym daunting. I know what a 'challenge' weight can pose. I also fight genetics every step of the way. (Don't let the cartoon profile fool you)! I come from a hefty gene pool of Greeks who LOVE to eat! Anyhoo, i hate to brag but i can literally gain 10 lbs in a week! M0st of my teenage life i was obsessed about weight. I grew up in the 80's with 'role models' like Farrah Fawcett, (God rest her soul), Suzanne Summers, Christie Brinkley, etc. Basically blonde skeletons with breasts who catapulted me into the throes of anorexia and bulimia. I was a very awkward looking teenager. Exotic before 'exotic' was a compliment....basically i looked like a foreigner from a distant land known as 'unf@@@able!' And yes, this made me feel inadequate and inferior! Determined to change my genetic path i chose a career in fitness. I've seen the transformation exercise can manifest on our bodies! Further more and more importantly I've seen the miracle exercise can perform on our minds!!!!

Most women are prone to depression due to hormonal imbalances. I've worked with many women who were severely depressed and were given an ultimatum by their Dr's. Its either medication to combat this funk OR exercise! I've seen the most amazing changes in my clients emotional state after they started exercising regularly. It is a fact that serotonin uplifts our moods. Better circulation (which is critical for mood enhancement), better flexibility (which prevents blockage in the body), and better body image which gives us confidence. I have worked with women who have reduced their meds significantly and other clients who have weaned themselves off their meds completely. C'mon ladies! Let's put those pharmaceutical companies out of business! Sadness is a natural don't need Prozac to 'repress' it. Erase it with jumpin' jacks instead. Want to quit smoking? Screw wellbutrin! What better way to combat the weight gain accompanied with quitting smoking, than getting on a treadmill? Granted some people need to be on medication...I am a firm believer that most of us DON'T!!!

We've become a 'Valley Of The Dolls' society and have shamelessly been 'stepfordized' to the truth! We're LAZY and looking for a quick 'fix.' Yes we are junkies and the pharmaceutical companies are LEGAL PUSHERS!!! We need to take back control of our choices, bodies and MINDS!!! Exercising regularly 3-5 times a week can prevent the blues, mood swings and cravings! Ask yourself this: "if ALL these pills are suppose to make us happy or make us quit something...why do they ALWAYS end with: 'May cause suicide' as a possible side effect? Don't you want to be around to enjoy your 'new life?' SAY 'NO' TO DRUGS!!!!

Friday, February 26, 2010

Curling. Really?

By now ALL of us know what 'Curling' is. Before the Olympics I can safely say that 'most' of us were clueless to this sport. I'm Greek and as a 'Greek' there is a certain level of pride that i take in the Olympics. Many professional athletes struggle their entire lives to achieve the honor of being in the Olympics. They run 24hrs a day, povolt 24hrs a day, swim 24hrs a day, ski 24hrs a day, snowboard 24 hrs a day...etc. I think you get the point. Astonishingly enough i NEVER thought drinking 24hrs a day could also get you into the Olympics! Even the name 'Curling' has 'drinkin' innuendo. I imagine it was conceived in such a manner: "Hey! i got it! (as he's curling a pint to his lips...) we'll call it 'curling!' "That's brilliant lad! You're a fargin' genius!" These athletes look like they never got off a bar stool and somehow after a 'drunken' moment of genius and 'wet brain' storming figured out how to make their mastery of shuffle board ( a bar room game) into an Olympic sport. And by the Gods...THEY DID! As a Greek i'm ashamed. As an underachiever I'm inspired! THANK YOU CURLING! there is hope for me after all!

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Botox: Tears Of A Clown?

When i first saw a wrinkle on my forehead i rushed to a dermatologist/ plastic surgeon and BEGGED for a dermabrasion. He looked at me like i was prehistoric for being so dated and uninformed. As far as i knew dermabrasion was a great way to decrease wrinkles and soften lines, but still he gave me a look that suggested i was looking for a miracle. Immediately the good doctor suffered a schizophrenic episode where both areas of expertise within him became split personalities and seemed to disagree on the proper procedure that should be administered. I could tell that Dr Jekyll (the dermatologist part of him) thought dermabrasion was sensible, affordable and less harmful. However, the ever so persistent Mr Hyde (the plastic surgeon part of him) thought it unwise! A waste of money and time! In fact, he was quite adamant about his refusal to give me a dermabrasion. I knew at that moment the outcome of the two personalities...Dr Jekyll would perish and in full control remained the ever so opinionated and pushy Mr Hyde. He was determined to show Dr Jekyll (the pussy dermatologist) who 'the real' doctor was. And he looked at me sternly and said "BOTOX!" "You want to get rid of those wrinkles?" "BOTOX!"

Immediately i wanted to run out! Instead i just sat there in utter paralysis and mindlessly agreed it was a fine choice! In fact, why stop there? Cut the whole f@#king head off ( a sure way to discard of wrinkles) and give me a boob job to replace my head. Problem solved! And I'll sign the permission slip so we can hurry things along. He proceeded to explain to me that these deep creases and grooves (which i don't have! I don't have f'in grooves)! Were due to years of expression...and can ONLY be eliminated with "BOTOX!" It was just the beginning of the botox craze. So i didn't know much about it except Nicole Kidman was obviously quite fond of it, (seeing how she had frozen her forehead into another lifetime) and Joan Rivers, despite a drooping eyelid mishap...was still a firm believer in botox. I'm a hypochondriac so immediately i started to panic and become clammy! Because I'm an even BIGGER pussy than I am a hypochondriac. So i knew no matter what the ramifications of botox were...i would certainly go through with it! My Dr. looked like he'd been 'juicing' his face for years! He was a junky and a pusher. Always jabbing himself with needles to the face. He even asked me if i thought he could use a little more. I told him he could make a dead guy jealous! He took it as a compliment.....we moved on.

After assuring me that it was safer than vitamin C. He walked out of the office and his nurse came in on cue holding a brochure which she handed to me. I read it thoroughly, giving myself palpitations and panic attacks. Could cause blindness...blah, blah, blah,....possible loss of facial muscles permanently, blah, blah, blah and what the heck! while we're being 'honest,' DEATH!!!! Well color me pink! I'm either really afraid to say 'NO' or I'm the vainest bitch on the planet. And for my sake i really hoped i was the vainest bitch on the planet! Anyhoo, after being literally scared shit less and i do believe i soiled myself just a little that day. I signed the dotted line which pretty much summed up that they were not responsible for any and ALL of the things that could go wrong, BUT the dummy who read this doesn't think we should be either! AND still wants to go through with it. My hands were trembling! I managed to shakily sign my name on the dotted line and prayed that i didn't end up looking like i had a partial stroke for the rest of my life because i couldn't get over an 'expression' wrinkle on my forehead. Part of me was cruel and had no pity for my stupidity and thought i deserved to look like i had Bell's palsy! The nurse then collected my form and numbed my forehead. The doctor walked in and looked like 'pure evil 'to me. But i willingly jutted out my head begging to be jabbed. I'll never forget the first needle...i was thinking, nothing an eye patch can't fix. So long as the other half looks 20!

After he was done he handed me an ice bag and a set of 'rules.' No exercising, no bending over and NO SHOE SHOPPING! I took it to the furthest extreme...NO BREATHING!!! i was not only going to look 'dead' in a week, i had to 'play dead' for the next few hours so i wouldn't end up looking like my face was partially paralyzed. No moving, no eating, no looking both ways when I'm crossing the street... NOTHING! I remember being at the mercy of NYC cab drivers. A very 'unsafe' place to be. I prayed to God that if i didn't look like a monster when all is said and done...i would NEVER get another cosmetic procedure again as long as i shall live! I heard God yawning because he heard this song and dance when i got my lips done and looked like Mick Jagger for a week.

A week later....i looked like i had a face lift! Raised eyebrows and high cheek bones...and not a wrinkle in sight! I looked airbrushed. I could now finally understand why Nicole Kidman couldn't quit even when she was pregnant. Although, her doctor begged her to stop because they still didn't know the effect it could have on her unborn baby. I thought, when it's born, if it looks like a still born but after you slap it you still hear a's fine! Now I'm more or less addicted to my doctor and the procedure. Despite of the novel sized release forms with even more severe possible side effects. I continue to put the gun to my head, spin the barrel and pull the trigger. And EVERY TIME I make an 'empty' promise to God, I'm back 6 months later to visit the 'undertaker' to get 'embalmed.' Now botox has become SO popular they even have commercials for it. And the hook of the commercial is: 'freedom of expression.' More like: 'freedom FROM expression!' I think 'feeling' is overrated. At least now, I look as numb as i feel. I'm not living a lie. And I'm true to myself! THANK YOU MR HYDE!!!

"I Was Just Going To Call You!" True Or False?

How many times have we heard: "I was just going to call you!" Really? Well then, why didn't you? Why am i ALWAYS calling you? "I was just reaching for the phone...and YOU called ME!" "It's like I'm psychic or something!" I'm not saying being in sync doesn't exist on occasion. I'm just exposing the person who ALWAYS claims they were going to call you, just as you call them. And then they have the 'balls of fire' to claim they're 'psychic.' And somehow i always seem to call that person first. And why should they call me first? They're in tune with the universe and could 'feel' the call. Therefore, they sit back and wait for me to call. It may be one sided, but apparently, we are SO connected that only one of us has to do all the work. And because my third eye is blind...I'll ALWAYS deliver the call and 'you' with your great insight will ALWAYS see it coming! I'm so lucky to have YOU as my friend!!

texting....the master of disguise!

it's astonishing to me how dependent i have become on texting! I'm someone who a decade ago was so befuddled by technology, i couldn't even turn on my own vibrator. Let alone a computer! Fear of technology left me vulnerable, exposed and judged! In fact, I was vehemently opposed to texting. I found it impersonal, evasive, rude and anti-social. I was a victim of intimacy, voice and inflections. Recently i lost my texting capabilities (thank you blackberry storm...good name, because its CHAOS)! Anyhoo, i couldn't receive or send any text messages and i nearly LOST MY MIND!!! I realized what a blessing texting really is! It is the ubiquitous 'master of disguise' i could be texting someone "I FEEL GRRRRRRRREAT!" followed by a series of !!!!!!!!!!! and XOXOXOXO's and simultaneously be thinking...where the F@#CK is my gun?!!!!! WHERE IS IT????!!!!! i KNOW its loaded and around here somewhere! See? NO vulnerability, exposure OR judgement! Just a very enthusiastic, high energy, loving, positive, STABLE person. I LOVE TEXTING!!!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Skinny Jeans...the BIG LIE!

Still clinging on and deluding people. The 'skinny jean' continues to LIE! Everywhere i look people are shamelessly squeezed into their size 2 skinny jeans....knowing deep down inside, they are really a size 8. And what better way to accessorize the 'skinny jean' other than a pair of UGGS (gag reflex to the aesthetic of the boot and Australian abbreviation for the world UGLY) AND a Russian hat! After all, 'cankles' and a 'fat head' really make your thighs look anorexic! Hats off to the skinny jean! Denial is SO much better than the real thing! I've almost reached my skinny jean goal...size ZERO! I've ALWAYS aspired to be a zero and its finally going to happen! Who says dreams can't come true?

ADVICE: Teenagers!!! Have the balls to be different! If you really want to look like EVERYONE else.....JOIN THE MILITARY!