Sooooo, I was thinking…

Catholic Priests who are against gay marriage, I know you’re married to god but isn’t He a he? Or, have you finally confirmed that He is a She? Open to discuss… Sincerely, The Spew (But not like pea soup spew or anything crazy like that. I saw that movie and for the record, I totally stand with you on denouncing Satan.)

Ever since I time travelled last week I can’t stop thinking about turkey neck. If you have no idea what it is then you’ve obviously never walked down the health and beauty aisle at Costco. Nothing kills that buzz you get from saving 2 bucks on 12 sticks of deodorant like a multi-million dollar beauty company questioning the integrity of your neck skin. Is turkey neck really that big of a problem…

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Penn Station, don’t be deceived by this immaculate oasis. The real Penn Station is a filthy pit of despair where rats and cockroaches go to die and working schlubs who can’t afford to live in the city waste away, praying for a train that will never come and job that will make it all worth it. (And sometimes they drink beer out of a paper bag.)

So obviously, I immediately thought—Great! I time travelled. Which really pissed me off because Goddamn it! It’s the future and I’m STILL commuting into this shithole every day. Crap! How old am I? I need a mirror. I better not have turkey neck! Thanks, Costco, for calling my attention to that horrific thought.

Then I was like: I wonder if Costco is still around? Surely, as a society, we must have finally made it through that 1000-gallon jar of relish by now. Which probably means we’ve also made it through that 1000 count pack of hotdogs too, because what the hell else are we putting relish on?

Speaking of hotdogs, I wonder what happened to that dude who always begs me for a quarter to get something to eat? I really want to know where the hell this guy is getting anything to eat in New York City for a quarter? I paid $4.50 for a Vitamin Water the other day! Maybe he’s just bad at Math. Poor guy. I get it. I should bring him some relish.

Then…

HOLY SHIT! That’s how we finally polish off all those jars of relish! In the future, we end the hunger crisis with endless supplies of Costco condiments. Because let’s be honest, hamburgers, French fries, onion rings, tater tots… they’re all just vehicles for ketchup. Right?

My next thought was to call Tom… at work. Because that mother f’er better answer! God help him if I’m the one who’s still commuting every day. Then again, if he’s not at work maybe he’s figured a way out of this pathetic commuter life. Maybe I’m just here checking on one of our luxury rental properties and I took the train to trick the “regular” people into thinking that I’m just like them. Fools! Yes, that must be why I’m wearing these shitty Target clothes. Don’t answer. Don’t answer. Don’t answer.

He answered. What a dick. After 20 minutes (and a really confusing conversation about turkey neck and Penn Station renovations) he finally helped me navigate my way back to 2017. As I breathed in the hot stench of ass and dead rodents, I knew I was home. Then I heard someone ask, “Excuse me? Do you have a quarter so I can get something to eat?” I tossed him a ketchup packet instead, because you know, I’ve seen the future.

This isn’t really a blogpost. It’s more of a status update. And, the worst kind of status update. It’s one of those annoying “Look How [Insert Exaggerated Superlative] My Toddler Is” status updates that every new mom shares on social media, usually accompanied by some moderately funny/cute (but rarely interesting) photo of their kid in action. Ug. How annoying are we? But since I haven’t posted…

Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Probably because today was the first time I sat next to this guy on the train. At first I was like: Why does he have bacon just sitting on his lap like that without a plate or a napkin to stop the grease from making that gross wet spot that never dries? People are going to gawk at his crotch all day. Ew. Maybe that’s what he’s going for. I mean I’m gawking at…

This morning I was stuck sitting on a train that didn’t budge for 15 minutes and while I would normally spend that time cursing out the train conductor and questioning all of my life decisions, instead I spent that time staring out the window thinking about dick. So many questions (and thanks to NJ Transit) so much time. Is Dick this artist’s name? If so, I completely understand why he didn’t add…

Alex went to a birthday party yesterday and an incredibly talented balloon artist made her this Elmo. One night in my house with my kids Elmo looks like this: Also known as BrundleElmo. (Only a true horror fan will get that reference. If that’s not you, check out the 1980s re-make of The Fly where you can see Jeff Goldblum slowly transform into a hideous monster after stepping into a teleport…

My 2 year-old Alexandra eats Kraft Macaroni and Cheese every single day of her life. Even if I offer her something else (like peanut butter cups and vodka) she’ll still drag herself across the floor and cry until I produce a plate of macaroni and cheese. She’s like a drunk college kid at 3Am. As much as I hate to discourage her budding appreciation for one of life’s most exquisite dishes,…

What if God is a cod?

I’m a practicing “Bad Catholic.” That means the closest I come to going to mass is shouting, “Holy Shit! Learn how to drive, Jackass!” at the churchgoers who don’t pay attention to traffic signals. I never know when lent is or if it’s capitalized (and even if I did, I would still order pepperoni pizza on Friday nights) and the only time I pray to God is when I’m trying to cram my fat ass into my…

Now your infant can tell the world she’s gonna spew (it’s the considerate thing to do) with the bib that will change your life forever (lies). You’ll be revered for your impeccable taste in bibware (your husband will think it’s stupid). It will teach your baby Cantonese (That’s impossible. No seriously, Cantonese is really, really hard.) It will breastfeed your baby until she’s 12. (If your kid…

Happy 2017!  As you try to remember where you left your bra last night and start trying to redeem yourself by writing resolutions, remember that there’s nothing greater than the feeling of accomplishment. So aim low. Really, really low and 2017 will be your best year yet. If you need some inspiration, here’s a few of mine: Stop dieting and start wearing jeans that are two sizes too big. Someone’s…

What’s wrong with my kids?

I’ve heard rumors that babies are in the best mood when they first wake up in the morning. And that upon hearing a soft, sweet cooing coming from the nursery, the parents of these babies walk in and are greeted with big gummy smiles that say, Good morning adoring Parents! Not my babies. My babies open their eyes and let out an ear piercing screech as if they suddenly realized that they’re chained…

It took me like 30+ years, four years of marriage and two babies but I finally did it! I made Christmas cards.  How exciting.  So what do you think it will take for me to actually send them?  Ok, that’s not entirely true. I did send them to half of the people on my list. The other half is sitting at the bottom of my work bag (along with a beautiful Father’s Day card I bought for Tom when I was…

I Windex’d my magnifying mirror this morning. From now on I will only interact with cataracts and glaucoma patients.  I’m also putting back the layer of dust I removed and adding an extra layer to all of my mirrors. Then I’m overloading the electrical system in my house with high- powered electronics because imagine how hot I’ll look if the lights were in a perpetual state of brownout? And if the…

My Childhood Summed Up Through a Bunch of Weird and Somewhat Offensive Shit I Was Told Before I was 12

****I’m re-blogging this old post in honor of my grandmother who spoke to me through a plate of lasagna in my dream last night.**** This list consists mostly of things that my grandmother or my mother told me. But if you ask my mother she will vehemently deny it and if you ask my grandmother, you’re probably a medium and that’s really awesome, but I bet she’ll still deny it. And if she doesn’t,…

I have two daughters— a 2-year-old and a 5-month-old and although their names are Alexandra (Alex) and Charlotte (Charley) everyone insists on referring to them as “the girls.” While it’s a totally reasonable (and very accurate) description of them, no matter who says it (my mom, my boss, my husband, my priest, the guy who works the deli counter at the Acme) as soon as I hear it, I immediately…