While we're on the subject...

After my last entry, my siblings and I reminisced about our past Halloween costumes. My brother only remembers being a hobo and our father (not at the same time [although, when we talked about it, he wore a pair of blue workman’s pants and the filthy plaid jacket my dad would wear when working on the car, so I’m thinking my brother used the same materials, just tried to be creative by calling them different costumes]). My sister remembers being an 80’s chick, but it was the 80’s, so that wasn’t very creative. So, we pretty much suck at Halloween.

But, as a family, we are good at drinking (which is mostly why none of us can remember our costumes), and that made me think of Halloween last year, or as we now refer to it in my home, "The Drunken Debacle". And now I will share the story so you can all read my shame.

I like to fix people up. Well, sort of. I like to fix people up when it works well. If it doesn’t… I had nothing to do with it. And don’t bring it up to me. Ever. Again.

Anyway, my girlfriend was going through a divorce and feeling pretty low, so I thought a great date would cheer her up. I had the perfect guy. He’s a friend I’ve had forever, always up for meeting new people, always fun to be around. I figured he’d be perfect for her first time "out there" in 15 years.

So, I put together a happy hour at the local wine bar the day before Halloween. I think I’ve mentioned this wine bar before – they sell a wine that doesn’t give me hangovers? Right. Anyway, my co-workers, my brother, his girlfriend and my girl and guy friend all got together after work for a few drinks.

My brother, God love him, thought that ordering bottles of wine would be cheaper than buying by the glass. That, of course, is true, but you run the risk of the never-ending glass of wine. I normally know the number of glasses of wine I can handle, but since there was never an empty glass (due to my brother [God love him] filling my glass), I couldn’t keep track. I just figured I was a slow drinker that night. Or, most likely, I was drunk and didn't care. The wine was going down fiiiine.

My girlfriend and guy friend were seated (I’d like to think strategically, but I’m just not that good) together, with me across the table from them. I got the ball rolling, telling them each a little about the other. But, the more I drank, the more I liked the idea of them together. Man, they were cute. Did I say the following:

A) “You guys are so cute!”

B) “You have dark hair, he has dark hair! So cute!”

C)“You are tall, he is tall! So! CUTE!”

D) All of the above

If you answered D, you’d be correct.  

Gaah, I’m an idiot.

After a while, for whatever reason, we decided to go somewhere else. I always find this to be a mistake. Example? My sister’s bachelorette party 10+ years ago. We were having a grand ol’ time at our favorite neighborhood bar. My sister was appropriately attired in various penis bride-to-be paraphernalia and dancing on top of our table. But, I decided our favorite jukebox didn’t have enough rap/hip-hop music (a doy), so I wanted to go to another bar close by that offered dancing. What a mistake. We got there and everyone started to sober up. It got so bad, my sister tried walking home. So, yeah. Leaving a bar where you’re already having fun is a bad idea.

Same happened here. In those short minutes it took to drive to the next bar, I got extremely tired. I don’t even remember who picked the place or why. Since it was Halloween weekend, this bar was having a costume party. Not really fun for someone who was a) way drunk and b) didn’t have a costume. I spent my time at this bar drinking loads of water. Or, I wish I had been that smart. This part of the night was pretty hazy. Here’s what I remember of the 10 minutes we were at this bar.

1. I peed for a very long time as soon as we got there (in the bathroom [which, at this point, I considered an accomplishment] [I also picked the right icon on the door for "girls", another major accomplishment]).
2. In the time I was in the bathroom, I lost most of my party.
3. My girlfriend’s estranged husband showed up at the bar and took her home. Don’t know how he got there, don’t know when she had a chance to tell him where we were.
4. If I remember correctly (which I don't), my guy friend got my girlfriend's number before she left.
5. My guy friend was stuck having to drive my drunkass home – a half hour or longer out of his way.

The next day was spent... not in a good place (I'll spare you the details). My sainted husband took the boys away for the day so I could suffer in silence recuperate in peace. I felt like death warmed over twice (like twice baked potatoes) and couldn’t handle caring for myself, much less little people. The most I accomplished that day was watching 8 hours of MTV while sprawled out on the couch. And the only reason I watched that much MTV was because I couldn't muster the strength to find the remote control.

Luckily, I felt like a new person just in time for trick-or-treating.

Happy Halloween!

My favorite Halloween

Halloween is my third favorite holiday (Thanksgiving and Christmas are #1 and 2, respectively, [like you care]). I really looked forward to this Day of Free Candy every year as a child. Not the dressing up so much as the caaaaaaandy. As a lifetime member of Chocoholics Anonymous, you can imagine my pure happiness at the mere idea of getting my grubby little hands on those delicious mini Snickers and 3 Musketeers bars just by walking door to door in my neighborhood (good gravy, that was a long sentence). Why was this only a once a year thing?

Now that I'm an adult (boo), I can buy snack-sized candy bars whenever I want, but somehow, it's just not the same. I never have to look through my bag of candy for razor blades or crack cocaine (seriously, I grew up in a quiet Midwestern neighborhood, was that really necessary?).

Sigh.

Anyway, my 6-year-old is now in Kindergarten. Yesterday, the principal sent a note home with the kids, educating parents about "appropriate costumes" for the school's Halloween parade/party. Apparently, costumes that might scare the crap out of other children are a no-no. Speaking as someone who couldn't sleep for a week after watching "Thriller", I'm on board with that rule. Additionally, masks or anything that would inhibit children from seeing and/or breathing are also not acceptable.

Does she think we are idiots?

But, it made me think of my various costumes over the years. I'll admit, my mother wasn't one of those creative types. Love her, but she wasn't like my friends' moms who spent hours painstakingly sewing together coordinating outfits for their children. I have a terrible memory, so I'm sure I'm wrong about this and I'll get in trouble later, but I only remember being 3 things for Halloween:

• a gypsy (every year until I was 11 - and every year until I was 11, I would wake up the next morning with swollen eyes from the crack whore-amount of makeup [note: I don't know if crack whores wear a lot of make-up. Maybe I should say 80's-rock-band amount])
• a hippie (as a tween - and I put that outfit together myself [tie-dyed shirt and jeans - done!])
• a blue Crayola crayon

This was, by far, my favorite costume. And, I'm sure, my mother's biggest nightmare, as she spent hours painstakingly sewing together this costume to coordinate with my BFF, a red Crayola crayon.

Oh. Hey! My mom was awesome!

While my mother slaved over the sewing machine, my BFF and I made our gigantic crayon box out of yellow poster board, which we stood inside and held up with shoulder straps. Man, my BFF was we were creative! I was sure we were going to win for best costume in our school parade. But then little Timmy Trafficlight (note: not his real name) won for his costume as... a traffic light. Complete with working lights and everything. I mean, come ON! That kid didn't make that costume himself. He should have had points deducted. We used poster board! We made our mothers stay up late sewing! The contest was rigged. I'm pretty sure Timmy's too-involved parent paid off the... principal? Who was the idiot judge anyway?

Nevertheless, that was a pretty fun Halloween. I got to trick-or-treat with my BFF, attached as we were to our homemade crayon box. Our pillowcases were full of tasty treats. And, thankfully, no razor blades.

While we're on the subject of pillowcases full of candy... even now, I am baffled how my brothers were able to still have Halloween candy at Christmas. What was wrong with them anyway?!

Put a little Krazy Glue on it

So, the other day, I was cutting an apple for my 6-year-old. I had gotten the apple cut in half, was working on quartering it, when I decided to slice my thumb along with the apple. Which, of course, resulted in frenzied bleeding. I had never cut myself that badly before. Sure, I've nicked myself plenty while cutting vegetables. I'm particularly dangerous with a peeler. But this was a gusher. I was slightly worried I'd have to get stitches.

I paced around the room, applying pressure to the wound with a paper towel. I consulted my inner MacGyver, trying to figure out how I could fashion a tourniquet with one good hand and some Silly Bandz. I put my SIL on alert. If I had to drive myself to the ER, I needed her to take the boys as the husband was out of town. Eventually, I got the bleeding under control and had to tell my son I was very sorry, but he wasn't getting an apple that day.

The next morning, as I was emptying the dishwasher, my hand grazed the same knife, cutting the middle finger on my other hand.

Son of a...

Is it me or the knife? I mean, I know we're not supposed to put these knives in the dishwasher, but it can't possibly be mad at me for that, could it? I would think the knife would enjoy a little steam bath.

Stupid knife.  I mean, gooooood little knife.  Please don't hurt me.

So, over the past 3 days, my thumb has been bleeding on and off. And Band-Aids suck. They a) don't stay on if you get it the tiniest bit wet and b) don't stay on if you keep it dry (I'm pretty sure Johnson & Johnson won't be calling me to work for them anytime soon). I've gone through an entire box of Band-Aids, trying to keep the wound under control. Yesterday, I bled all over a top I was thinking about buying bought at the store.

And then, today, a miracle happened. My co-worker taught me the wonders of Krazy Glue. As I am not schooled in the history of Krazy Glue, he informed me that it was invented during WWII to bond body tissue. So, he glued my wound shut. His wife, a doctor, is not happy that he performed surgery on me, but I'm hoping she'll give me a shot of antibiotics for my future infection.

I've lost all feeling where the wound is, but at least I'm not going to bleed to death.

Ode to a toothbrush

So, the husband was at a dental convention this past weekend. When he goes away, he almost always brings back gifts for the boys and me. This trip was no exception. In addition to a refrigerator magnet and a sweatshirt, he brought me home a new toothbrush.

I know what you're thinking. A toothbrush? Who gets excited over a toothbrush? But, this isn't just any ordinary toothbrush you get from your dentist's office after a routine teeth cleaning. This is a Philips Sonicare FlexCare Plus with UV Sanitizer. I mean, a toothbrush that has 7 words in its name has to be impressive, right?

So, yes. I was excited. I used the toothbrush for the first time yesterday. It was such an experience, I had to wax poetic about it.

And you all get to enjoy my poem. About my new toothbrush.  You're welcome.

O, Sonicare FlexCare Plus,
You brush my teeth with no fuss.
With your 5 brushing modes,
You work a boatload
To clean every tooth within me us.

And after the 2 minutes are up,
I put you back into your cup.
(Well, it's not actually a cup,
but it's all I could find
To rhyme in a bind
And, by the way, this is why I'm a poetic schlup.)

But the best part of this brush
Is the sanitizing flush.
You put the toothbrush away
Into its holding tray.
Hit the button and see
The 99% germ-killing spree
Which will keep bacteria and viruses far away from me.

I hope.

Think Philips will hire me in their Marketing department?

I still want my MTV

So, I am part of the MTV generation. Sort of. I remember a life without MTV. We actually didn't get cable until I was in the 8th grade, so I went years without it. But, I knew of cable. My friends all had cable. I slept over my friends' houses so I could watch cable.  I saw Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video at my cousins' house and couldn't sleep for a week (those yellow eyes at the end of the video coupled with Vincent Price's laugh? Scared the crap out of me).

Once my family joined the 21st century and got cable (and call waiting at the same time - it was like Christmas!), I balanced my time between watching MTV and watching MTV while on the phone with my friends. I was one of those people who spent hours video taping her favorite music videos. Yeeaaahhh. I know.

Then MTV changed. They stopped with the all music, all the time and started producing reality programming. Nowadays, you're lucky if you see a music video. Not that all the shows are bad. I was an immediate fan of The Real World. Oh, how I loved when people stopped being polite and started getting real. Those first seasons were awesomely entertaining not to mention trying to raise social consciousness, before the roommates became ridiculous caricatures of themselves.

But, my love of The Real World had to end. Either I got too old or the roommates got too dumb, I'm not sure. Probably both. Plus, I couldn't stand those ungrateful bitches living in decked out houses in great cities, getting drunk and basically making fools of themselves. And, by the way, living in their own garbage. Ever heard of washing a dish? Aren't they at all embarrassed that their parents might be watching?

Yeah, that statement right there just proved I have gotten too old for this show.

I will, however, still allow a little Real World/Road Rules Challenge in my life. When I know it's on anyway. Because, sad to say, the people I remember, and loved or hated dearly, are still doing these ridiculous challenges. I mean, Beth from LA? She has to be eligible for Social Security by now. Since I haven't seen her lately, I can only assume she has broken her hip and can't compete. She's actually from a neighboring town and used to hang out at a bar where my sister worked, waiting for people to recognize her. Yeah, whatever. She was easily one of the most annoying characters in Real World history. I mean, that birthmark alone. Yeesh.

Gaah, I just looked her up online and learned a few things:

• The birthmark is gone.
• Someone actually married her.
• She has a child!

Okay, I'm sure she's a lovely person in real life. Don't email me.

Come to think of it, most of the cast members from Ohio were utter disappointments. While my sister and I agree that Texas is #1 for the sheer quantity of reality show contestants, I'm pretty sure Ohio is #1 for the dumbest. Mike from Parma? Sigh.

And so, another season of The Challenge (it's no longer RW/RR as no one cares) is upon us. Holy good gravy, this is the 20th season, too. They're in Prague this time, embarrassing their parents and the United States yet again. Oh, and throwing random Prague citizens down stairs.

Of course.

But, I have to admit The Challenge still a guilty pleasure of mine. I feel like I know some of these contestants and am happy when I get to see them a) win a challenge or b) get drunk and start a fight or c) get drunk and hook up with their teammates. Plus, there's something about watching these idiots in the (way way way) off chance they'll actually win $250,000. I watch, hoping this money will save them from their mounds of credit card bills, which they've no doubt acquired from taking too many head shots for failed acting auditions or fixing botched boob jobs (ever heard of getting a real job?).

And if they don't win? Well, at least they got to go to Prague, hook up with teammates (opposite sex or not), and get into fights with each other while I enjoy every delicious minute of it.

Snarky is as snarky does

So, this past weekend, my husband and I went to the opera with our only favorite opera dates. As always, a wonderful time was had by all. A lovely dinner with sparkling conversation, followed by an evening of beautiful music, what could be better?

I, however, did not enjoy this opera in the same sense as the last. While I still enjoyed dressing up and the culture and shit, my snarky self just couldn't hold it in this time.

We saw The Pearl Fishers, a French opera. I took French from 7th grade through college. I should've been able to translate the entire opera, right? Wrong. Good thing they had subtitles. Anyway, the story is a love triangle. Two friends, or, amis (heh), are in love with the same woman. One, a handsome, fit baritone. The other? A fat, feminine tenor. Guess which one she loved? Idiot. (Me? Snarky.)

Needless to say, 5 minutes into the opera is pretty much when the snark started. I took one look at the fat man, whose outfit didn't quite fit and thought, "Oh, come ON. That's not even realistic." Plus, all the men had really long hair and most of them (except the fat one, which I appreciated) were shirtless. I didn't realize France was full of long-haired shirtless men. Who knew?

Anyway, back to the story... the woman happens to be some sort of mystical creature. With her song, she can ward off evil spirits. The baritone, the leader of the island (with a nice chest), asks her to keep watch over their island. She cannot take off her mask or have any friends, boyfriends, lovers, or husbands, only sing. And, for all her hard work, they're going to give her a pearl.

Well, that would certainly work for me. (Snark.)

Act II began in the woman's bedroom. We watched as the maids made up her "bed." It was, in fact, a rock. With a sheet. I leaned over to my cousin-in-law and whispered, "So, protect our island, don't have any fun, and we'll give you a pearl and a nice ROCK to sleep on." And then I got the giggles.

The giggles is a terrible affliction that runs in my family. My mom, sister and I happen to get the giggles in the most inappropriate situations. Basically, any time we're supposed to be quiet. It happens in church, at weddings. At funerals. It's terrible. There was one wedding we got the giggles so badly, we had to leave the church. And then we were laughing so hard outside the church, someone had to ask us to leave. There was also the time, in church, when my sister had to leave while everyone else was sitting down. People thought she was crying and that something terrible had happened to her husband. She had a dozen people come up to her after church to find out if she was okay.

So, the giggles are bad. And I got them during Act II. I would calm down a little and wouldn't look at my cousin-in-law for fear they would start up again. I could hear her, though, which would start me all over again. Or I would look at the rock and start up again. I was afraid I was going to have to leave the scene of the crime. But, finally, the scene ended, the rock was taken away and I calmed down.

In Act III, the baritone felt bad for sentencing his tenor friend and the tenor's girlfriend to death. The girlfriend came to the baritone to ask for mercy, and he got angry all over again. But then he realized that she was someone who had saved him from something (I don't know, it was in French), so he decided he would save them. How does he save them, you ask? He burns down his village, so the angry villagers will leave the two prisoners alone, and then he sets them free. When the villagers find out what has happened, they kill their leader.

Okay, he's the leader, right? He was the one who originally told the villagers to leave the two alone (because he loved his friend). He's also the one who told the villagers to kill them (when he realized his "friend" stole his "girlfriend"). Couldn't he then tell the villagers (again) to leave the two alone? He's the leader. He had asked, in Act I, if the villagers agreed to do as he says. They all agreed. So, what was the problem here?

If it were me, I would've just told them all, "Hey, that thing about killing those people? Forget I mentioned it. Go about your business." And everyone would've lived happily ever after. Well, except for the baritone, who was womanless. But, with that chest, he would've picked up a new woman in a second.

See? Snarky. Can't even enjoy the opera for the tragedy.

But, the music was beautiful, especially the harmonizing duets. The tenor, while unattractive, had a gorgeous voice. I could look past his vest creeping up, exposing his belly. He kept tugging at it, which now makes me feel bad for making fun of the outfit. He was probably thinking, "I have a great voice, I'm too good for this stupid outfit they put me in."

Gah, there's that snark again.

To be (a Titas) or not to be (a Titas) -- that is the question.

So, there’s nothing like a day with the ladies. It’s even better when those ladies are family members, which is with whom I spent my Saturday.

I come from a big family. My dad is one of seven. Almost all of my aunts and uncles had 3 or more children. There are 23 of us first cousins. Twenty-three people (not including my aunts and uncles) that you have to meet, learn (and remember) their names, learn (and remember) their spouses’ names (there are 16 of them), and learn (and remember) their children’s names (27 of them – if I’m counting right [even I get them confused]).

Presently, if you were to meet my family as a whole, you’d be meeting about 75 people. And that's just on my dad's side. For a holiday meal, it’s a lot of pressure. In my day, you didn’t bring a significant other to a meal unless you were serious. And either your date can hack it, or he can’t. And we've been through many who can't.

And if he can’t? He’ll be missing out. For all of the chaos (and the Peters) my family possesses, the wonderful memories that result from Thanksgivings and Christmases, Titas Golf Outings, and the like wouldn't be traded for anything.

Anyway, my cousin-in-law noticed we don’t really know the new women entering our family. The men in our family have golf outings and manly events in order to bond, but the women never get together to do anything. And, when we get together for holidays and parties, we’re constantly chasing after the (27) children and never have time to drink our wine and gab.

So, she decided to put together an event for the ladies, which included manicures/pedicures, dinner and a Shakespeare play in the park (she made me describe it as that - I was just going to say "outdoor play," but we sound much classier this way). We invited the aunts, the cousins, and the girlfriends we knew the names of (sorry to any we missed).

We had a good turnout. Manicures and pedicures galore. We lost some cousins after that, but gained some others for dinner, including the girlfriend of one of my younger cousins. She? Is awesome. For one, she doesn’t know any of us from Adam Eve. The one person she did know (her boyfriend's brother's wife - follow that okay?) had to cancel at the last minute.

But, she came anyway. And held her own. We have some pretty strong personalities in my family. Yet, she was able to engage herself in the conversations and, when the check came and my aunt (read: strong personality) suggested we divide the check equally, she said, “Um, I only brought cash” and “I only had a salad."

This, my friends, was great. She was right, and, in the end, it was decided that we'd pay for her. Woo! Sticking up for yourself! A great way to get your meal paid for you! (Take notes, dear reader.)

Once dinner was over, a few of us decided to go out for one more drink (and to screw the play, apparently). And the awesome girlfriend came with us. When she had a perfectly reasonable excuse to run for the hills, she didn’t take it. I’m telling you, if my cousin doesn’t marry her, I will... er, I mean, I will make my brother marry her. Or I'll adopt her. Or something.

The group of us out for drinks consisted of 2 cousins-in-law, my sister-in-law, the awesome girlfriend and... me. The only blood relation. We spent time regaling the awesome girlfriend with stories of the family. My one cousin-in-law shared that she wasn't allowed to come to a family function until she and my cousin, Peter (of course), were engaged (and they had been dating since the 8th grade). Her first family function happened to be Christmas. And we sang. A lot.

My sister-in-law admitted that we are intimidating. I agreed. We have our own Yahoo group and Facebook page. When I was young, I was afraid to come into the party because of the sheer number of people to say hello to - and I am related to all of these people!

My husband's family consists of 8 people. Total. When he came to his first family function, he didn't know where to look first. So, I get it. The awesome girlfriend told us that my cousin doesn't even know how we're all related and didn't really give her much of a warning when she was first brought around the extended family. Nice.

She's still awesome, though, and I'll be happy to call her a sister- cousin-in-law when the time comes. And if she gets nervous, there's always alcohol aplenty.

Some favorite lines from the evening:

• My aunt to her daughter-in-law, who ordered a salad AND an entree: “Oh (cousin-in-law), you’re going to be full.” My cousin-in-law is an adult... I'm pretty sure.
• Soon-to-be (come hell or high water) cousin-in-law, upon discovering she might have to shell out $45 for a salad and a taste of sheep cheese: “But I already paid for my wine.”
• Me to another cousin-in-law, while driving past my grandmother’s old house (NOTE: This house holds wonderful memories for us all [as well as 100 bedrooms] and my cousin-in-law would like to buy the house if it ever comes on the market): “Yeah, but it’s not in such a great neighborhood.” Cousin-in-law: “Uh, this is my neighborhood.”

Sidenote: (Cousin-in-law I offended), if you’re reading this, I still contend that your neighborhood is nicer than Mociute’s. You live across the street from a park, for goodness’ sakes. Oh, and I’m sorry.

And, T? Thanks for thinking that was the funniest part of the evening. You kind of suck.

A good night had by all, even if it was, partly, at my (and my family's) expense.