Underrated

Things that are underrated time and time again:
1) Pockets. Think of this next time you have a tissue you want to hang on to, or a phone number you want ot save.
2) Down comforters. You could wear nothing under one and still feel hot.
3) Umbrellas. They keep you dry. Who knew!
4) Whiteout. We all make mistakes. White out covers them. The best thing to do to a mistake. Cover them up and pretend they never happened. It's the American way.
5) Costco roasted chicken. Easy. Cheap. Tasty. Great to make sandwiches and soup. I give it 4 1/2 stars (minus the half because the juices have dripped out onto my shoes before. not so cool or yummy).
6) Rutgers football. They are 5 and 2 people! Do I smell a Bowl?? Oh wait, that's just my cup o' soup.
7) Dry erase boards. Not just for your dorm room anymore. Use them to harass your significant other or to yell at him for not being your biatch.
8) Alcohol-free lip balm. Listen to me on this one! Boycott Chapstick and all of those fruity smelly Bonnie Bell. Their primary ingredients are alcohol which dries out your lips, causing you to want to use more and more chapstick. It's a vicious cycle that compels you to buy chapstick and use it ALL THE TIME! You should be applying several times throughout the course of the day. By several I mean five or six, not two dozen. So adhere to my advice and use vaseline, Burt's bees or anything organcic or all natural.
That's all I got.

Shout out to the cousins!

A shout out to the family (from the mom's side). Stavros, Nikita, Riana, Chris, Andri, Mars, Min, Cass, Me, Vanessa, Loulla, Ari. I love it when we're all together- noone can get a word in edge-wise and we're all laughing and talking and yelling and eating, always eating. Good times.

SENSE: Part TWO (installment #6)

Sense: Part II I write. Most often it goes unread, only a lucky few get to skim. This is a piece I've been working on for some time now--not sure if it will be a short story or much longer. I suppose it could be categorized as adolescent lit. It's a work in progress. Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome. Working title- Sense Installment # 6 (continued from September 18th )


My mind starts creating detailed scenarios that include shaved pussies and boob jobs. I wonder if he is circumcised and know that I’ll never know, but she will. I get angry and upset, begin to pace, getting ready to leave and walk away, but I don’t. I stay there transfixed like part of the architecture. Stand guard. It’s ten minutes passed now and I feel like a jerk. I think about yelling at her when and if she ever gets out. She knows I like him. I won’t yell at him because he can do no wrong. I play with my cross, my ponytail, my tie, anything that hangs.
The door swings open suddenly and I don’t have a chance to say anything. They are smiling, she is buttoning her shirt, the badge on her pocket seems crooked, but it can’t be, it’s sewn on. He runs his fingers through his thick black hair and looks at her,
“That was fun. We’ll do it again.”
She grins and nods once. A yes.
“Let’s go,” she says grabbing my arm, winking at him. I am confused and ready to tell. My insides are pails of pudding.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“Whadja think I was a wimp like you. He’s a good kisser too, you should try it someday.”
I look at her tits. They look like they had just been fucked. I want to ask her if she saw his penis, but I don’t. I don’t really want to know.
“He’s a good kisser?” I ask.
“Yeah, real soft lips. Uses too much tongue for me, but you might like it. You like tongue?”
My shoulders shrug, “U-ohno.”
“Well, now you know. My review is four stars. I’d do him if you didn’t like him so damn much.” She pats my backside just before she swipes her backpack off the floor.
Am I supposed to thank her now? I wonder, then look at her shirt. It’s unevenly buttoned. She follows my eyes and looks down.
“Whoops,” she begins unbuttoning as we walk through the halls. She let him fuck her boobs.

Adventures in the Lenox Outlet

I was at the Lenox outlet today in Cranbury when I realized just how old I've become. Granted it is raining out and it a Sunday, but who spends their time at these outlets? Old women and their fifty year old daughters and the men they drag with them. There was a pile of cheap polyester suits filing into the store and the lingering smell of 'White Linen' followed closely behind. I was there for a purpose you see. The mother-in-law promised to buy me some every day plates; the ones you use, not the ones that sit in a box until you are ready to have your first Thanksgiving dinner for the family. Dansk, Pfalsgraft, etc.We were there for something practical and useful. I got a kick out of the quintessential Jersey shore whore, parading around in her matching velour jump suit, thong visible through her pants, air brushed nails flaring through the air announcing, "Oh my gawd! Can you believe these freakin' prices? Thair sooper! I am stockin' up for Christmas. Ma, look at this one. How beautiful is that?" Her beefy cop husband trailing behind wheeling the cart, rubbing his face, wondering whether or not he should have shaved, but seemingly enjoying his time surrounded by plates and vases and dust collectors. My mind rushed into a thousand different directions, trying not to panic from the overcrowded store. I let the sister-in-law maneuver the cart and I walked straight towards the area that had the least amount of people- right in front of the cutting boards. I spent a few minutes there, catching my breath and trying to regain a normal heartbeat and get the stenc of old lady perfume out of my nose. The search was on however and I was ushered towards a set of Dansk plates arranged with stripes; the name of the design ( I know you're dyeing to know)- Orange Splash. The design was colorful and the depth of the soup bowl was acceptable; even the handle of the mugs fit all four of my fingers. Still, I felt as though I was settling. The orange, I wasn't nuts about. It reminded me of sherbert. Which isn't bad, but I envisioned eating steak or spaghetti off of that plate and decided against it. Onward we went, the pursuit for the perfect plate pattern and design continued. Along the way I became fascinated by the excitement in women's eyes when they picked up a 2nd quality vase marked down 20%. They'd turn to their girlfriends and show it off, the find of the century, then quickly place it into their carts, carefully, like a carton of eggs. Two ladies wheeled around strollers and I thought, how precious, they brought their grandkids. In the Christmas ornament aisle, bursting with "Baby's First Christmas 2003" trinkets and generic Lenox colored snowflakes, I peeked into the blue stroller only to see two puppies drooling on a rubber toy. I made eye contact with my sister-in-law and we both gave each other "the smirk". The one you give a person you know, when you want to say, "What the hell?!" The lady pushing the carriage smiled at us, thinking we were giving the "oh how cute they are" grin. Pressing on, we encountered the expected group of Asian tourists that somehow managed to find the factory store even though they are probably only here for a short vacation. Then there was the newlywed couple- girl, her mom and her fresh new husband, the grandma with her family, the grandson trying to entertain his grandma's needs by holding up different chochkeys asking if this one would do. In the end, there were no plates that suited my liking and the departure left me plateless. Yet my plate of experience felt full at the end of our outing. One more to add to the main course of blog.