No, I did not catch the clap.

Very funny, though.

To sum up, because I'm sure you're dying to know... here is the summation of the things i caught:

sunfish: 4

trout: 0 (the only trout available to be caught were lake trout, and they live quite deep...)

large mouth bass: 2 that counted. several more that were so tiny that when my sister tried to lip them to remove the hook, her thumb could barely fit into its mouth.

small mouth bass: several, but 3 nice ones. including one caught while sitting indian style on the back of my sister's boat. which, if you've ever tried hooking and fighting a nice bass while seated in a fashion where you could feasibly fall in after the fish, you know what a challenge this is.

rock bass: a half dozen or so. spiny little creatures.

toothy creatures: too many! "Dad, can you take this off the hook?" several northern pike and several more pickerel. and sightings of alligator gar and bowfin. i should add that these sightings were promptly followed by anonymous and i promptly removing our lures from the water.

perch: funny story about the perch. i actually took off several, but when i think about the fish sperm on my hands after taking one off, it's possible i had millions of potential perch in/on my hands. (for the record, this was not my fish, it was anonymous' fish that i was removing when it... unloaded.) i haven't been tested, but one assumes that it was not carrying the clap or any other STD that a human could possibly get by um.. handling perch spunk.

clams: 7. i have no idea how i managed to catch so many. they do not sit on the ground. they float. so imagine my surprise when i caught one after another using my various lures. it's a talent, passed on to me by my mother.

sunburn: absolutely! across my nose and face, and a bit on my forearms. most of this has faded, but i am peeling about the nose and cheek.

the desire to have children: this waned in and out. holding baby e when he was asleep on the boat: yes. watching the babies run all over while their parents tried to keep up: no. watching them be fascinated by things like their belly buttons, elbows and a deflated balloon: yes. watching them try to launch themselves downhill: no.

we got back late yesterday and today i returned to work, so naturally, i'm tired and about to head to bed. but fishing, and more importantly, the first all family vacation (mom and dad, sisters with husbands and babies and me and my own husband) was relatively pain free. minus of course, the accidentally hooking suffered by anonymous, the lure to the back of the head j suffered at the hands of my dad, and the lure to the stomach he suffered at the hands of my mom -- but other than that... good times.

Gone Fishing

OK, SJ’s gone for the weekend on a fishing expedition so you’re stuck with me. To fill the long, lonely hours until she returns and graces this blog with entries people will actually comment on, I’ve developed a game. I’m going to list things that SJ could catch this weekend, along with the odds of each. Place your bets by listing your choices in the comments section. No money has to change hands; perhaps we can just do ice cream for the winner (now that’s my kind of game!)

Here we go… Things SJ may catch this weekend:
A trout: 2:1
A bass: 2:1
A sunfish: 2:1
A hook on her sleeve: 6:1
An eel: 15:1
The boat’s propeller: 10:1
A shark: 20:1
An old tire: 25:1
A catfish: 8:1
A cold: 1:1
Your write-in answer: _______________

I should probably tell you that I have no idea how odds work. So it’s going to be tough figuring out who won. Yeah, I took a class called “Ideas in Mathematics” in college. I’ll probably just buy myself an ice cream. But you should too. Isn’t this fun? We’re all winners at FunnyGals!

Livin’ the Dream

As a kid, I thought it would be really cool to be on the radio. In fact, I have a cassette tape somewhere in this house o’ boxes of mine that has me pretending to be a radio DJ. Both sides of the 90-minute tape are filled with music and my witticisms.

While I went to college with the intention of becoming a radio or television newscaster, I got sidetracked into newspaper journalism somewhere along the way (probably because I could relate to the students on the university’s newspaper staff more than the AV geeks who worked in the television studio and the pot-smoking metal heads at the radio station).

While I have loved my career as a newspaper reporter (got a couple of hours? I have stories about covering the police beat that will make you wonder about how some people even make it through the day) and editor, I’ve always had it in the back of my mind that perhaps I should pursue something on the radio.

To sum up the last three years or so, I worked toward that goal and just got a job doing the news on a pretty well-known radio station on the weekends. Perhaps I was distracted by having to get up at 4 a.m. on Saturdays and 5 a.m. on Sundays (yup, this night owl has been seeing early morning from a whole new angle). Or maybe I was too nervous about getting the timing down, hitting the right buttons and trying to sound like I knew what I was doing. Nevertheless, it took two weeks for it to hit me.

Finally, two years after taking a different radio job, eight years after graduating from college, 12 years from going to college to study journalism, 20 years after I made that tape… I’m finally doing what I’ve always wanted to do. And I don’t think it gets much better than that.

Hyper McHyperpants strikes again!

The Pretend Husband has been fighting a cold (and losing) all week, and was completely exhausted last night. So exhausted that he tried to sneak upstairs and go to bed without my knowledge. Perhaps because he anticipated what would happen next.

After noticing he was gone, I tried to tempt him back downstairs with ice cream then finally went up to join him (after the television show I was watching ended because, you know, I have priorities… which are mainly ice cream and television). I’m sorry, but I have to be kept up for a few nights straight (like, say, during a trip to Vegas) for me to even fathom going to bed at 8 p.m.

I guess I could have gone back downstairs and left the PH to a good night’s sleep, but– let’s be honest– that’s just not me. Instead, I started pulling stuff out of boxes (good news, my passport isn’t expired, I found the key to my lockbox and Molly the Peekapoo looks great in a tiara!). I found a list of quotes that my family assembled during holidays together (a favorite was my dad’s comment while helping both teams during a game of Cranium: “I’m the answer slut!”) and the book of quotes the PH and I have been keeping from the beginning of our relationship (most of which may or may not be pretty R-rated, so I’ll spare you the details).

The PH was a good sport about having to listen to the quotes again. And he gets extra points for going along with my pleas to re-enact his proposal after I found the box my ring came in (“No, then you got down on one knee… get down on one knee! Then you said… do you remember what you said? Say it!”)

But he drew the line at the in-depth discussion about what makes people cheat and what kinds of things lead to the demise of marriages. You know, those sort of light discussions that are just perfect for right before bed… especially when you’re under the weather.

I finally let him turn out the light at 10 p.m. after he admitted Molly’s the cutest tiara-wearing dog he’s ever seen. Boy, do I make that guy earn his sleep!

it's a twister, auntie em!

nothing says warm spring days in New England like a tornado.

yes, i said a tornado.

wednesday, as the heat and humidity sank in around southern Connecticut, where i work, we started to hear rumors of threatening skies. threatening skies meaning.... tornadoes. i'm from very hilly new england, where we don't *have* tornadoes. in fact, i don't even know how to spelll it. e, or no e?

no idea.

regardless, everyone was in a tizzy. i admit, i did get nervous when i saw the warning. at the time, we did have a huge pile of granite sitting in the driveway, which, under the wrong circumstances could turn into a pile of dangerous small and possibly lethal projectiles. very scary.

but alas, we managed to get through it with minor wind damage and i heard that there was a bit of a run on canned goods. which always makes me laugh. because really, if the heavens are going to open up and you're going to baraged by fierce winds, is a can of peas really your best option for survival in a tornado? i suppose it would be if it were *really* heavy. it could act as a kind of anchor, really.

Just chillin' with my homies

Now that I've recovered a bit from our crazy trip to Vegas (are there any other kinds of trips when it comes to Vegas?), I thought I'd fill in some of the details.

Following my friend's wedding and dinner, she asked a bunch of us to meet her at one of the clubs in the Wynn, one of the swankiest hotels on the Strip. We got in line and then started talking to the guy in charge of "The List" just in case she had called ahead.

And she had. He told us she had a table reserved and that 10 people could go in with her, but it was a two-bottle minimum and the bottles ran from... get this!... $450-$1,200!!! Perhaps you grew up in somewhere a lot more metropolitan than I did (I still remember when my town got its first stop light), but I actually recoiled when he said this and gasped, "Does the bride know about this?"

The bride did know about this and had made it a part of her wedding festivities. So we skipped the line and headed into probably the most posh place I will ever hang out.

You know who else skipped the line? That celebrity I alluded to and his wife and I guess what was his posse. His name? Ice-T. (And yes, his wife really is that well-endowed.) I actually ran into him (not literally... although that's not such a stretch when you're talking about Gracie McGracefulpants over here!) outside the bathrooms, but we couldn't find him again after I grabbed the bride and my camera to try for a photo. Oh well.

I heard Bo Duke was also at the club that night, but didn't see him (or I did and didn't realize it because I had no idea what he looked like).

We wrapped up our day at about 2 a.m. and headed back to our cut-rate hotel to sleep off the festivities. You know, the average Sunday night for this Funny Gal!

Not to be dramatic, but it was the worst pain EVER

The worst part of our trip to Vegas? (other than trying to explain how I lost so. much. money on penny slots) It was the incredibly painful stabbing pain that felt like being stabbed in the eye (did I mention I felt pain?) when we landed at the airport.

Apparently, filled sinus cavities and a change in altitude or cabin pressure or whatever does not mix well. I had tears in my eyes, I was bashing myself in the forehead and the Pretend Husband thought I was having a seizure from the flopping around I was doing from the pain of it all.

I felt like I had a knife through my eye into my head. I haven’t felt such pain since that time in college I was stabbed in the eye with a knife. Just kidding. That wasn’t a knife, it was a bottle of cheap liquor and too many rounds of drinking games.

Even my dreams are funny

Evidence: The Pretend Husband got up to go to the bathroom this morning. He said when he came back to bed, he found me dead asleep with a huge grin on my face. He said he couldn’t help laughing because I was talking really quietly and then started to giggle. I must have been telling myself jokes.

I will write more when I recover from our fantabulous trip to Vegas this past weekend for a friend’s wedding. To sum it all up: very little sleep, too much alcohol (they give it to you for free while you gamble… bad combination!), WAY too much gambling, tons of food, one celebrity spotting, one afternoon spent at the VIP pool at the Wynn (because we’re cool like that) and did I mention the very little sleep? I’m estimating 29 hours in five nights (that’s an average of just over five hours a night for you non-math majors). I’ll be back once the flashbacks start filling in some of the details for me!

file this one under: are you kidding me?

okay so you know how when you wear a suit to work and you don't usually wear a suit, people automatically assume you're like... interviewing?

well at my workplace, when you wear a dress and heels, instead, the response i get is: did you have a makeover?

really?!

i'm not that dressed up-- just a simple black dress with my typical pointy shoes. barely any makeup. and yet, that's the reaction i get. "wow, sj... you look so .... different. did you get a makeover?"

i realize that this is a compliment, in a way. but it's definitely one of those backhanded "wow - dude, every day you look like such a disaster. good for you making the extra effort today" kinds of comments.

it's true, that most days, i tend to be a little more conservative, and rarely expose my very, very pale cleavage to the light of day (in a tasteful workplace acceptable way). so in fact, i think it's my bright white skin that make everyone look. i'm like a beacon of paleness. i guess it serves me right. if i stood close to shore and if it were foggy, i could probably guide ships to safety.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful...

I think I’m finally over the trauma that was getting my hair and make-up “done” for Lil Sis' wedding last weekend enough to talk about it (that, and perhaps I went out to dinner last night with two very fun couples and tested the story out on them– getting the timing and jokes just right– before putting it out on the Internet. You never know.)

Anyway, it all started when we walked into the salon and Lil Sis was greeted by the owner, ushered to a chair, fawned over by all the employees about how it was her special daaaaay and generally pampered. My stylist came over, looked me over with a critical eye and said, “You’re here for a trim?” “Um no, I’m here for an updo.” She proceeded to tell me my hair was too short for an updo but she’d see what she could do. She also asked me when I last had my hair cut in a snooty manner and kept sighing while trying to get my hair to stay up (it’s not that short). Oh, and my favorite comment was, “I love to do updos. I just start and see what happens. You never know how it’s going to come out.” Because that boded well for how I was going to look for all eternity in my sis’ wedding photos!

It was by far the most painful hairstyling experience I’ve ever had… literally. I don’t think the stylist was pinning up my hair as much as she was jabbing the pins into my scalp to hold the hair up. I kept wincing and at one point had tears in my eyes from the pain of it all. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. The kicker was when she couldn’t get a couple of hairs along my neck to stay in the updo, so she cut them off! In any case, she finished up and the experience was pretty much forgotten after a few minutes with the make-up “artist.”

The make-up artist who was wearing blue eye shadow up to her eyebrows and bright pink lipstick. The artist who smeared bright red lipstick way past my lip line and only cut it back after I pointed out how ridiculous it looked. The same one who wiped it off but– oops!– it had stained my skin a bright pink color. So she added a purple line at the edge of my lips. Picture bright red lips, lined in purple with a not-so-faint pink line surrounding it all. I looked like a clown.

After practically begging her to add some foundation around my mouth, we made our escape (but not before dropping almost $100 for the privilege of being worked on by the “stylist” and the “artist.”) The Pretend Husband’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline when he saw me. I give him a lot of credit because his only comment was, “That’s a very red lipstick.” (I think it was followed by, “Are you going to take some of that off?”)

So I scrubbed off the red, purple and pink and added a more subtle pink to cover the stains. Lil Sis covered up some of purple lipstick they had covered her mouth with. And, judging by the photos I’ve seen so far, the overall effect wasn’t half bad. But I’m seriously considering doing my own hair and make-up for my wedding. It’s sure to be a lot less painful for everyone.

How you can tell I have no children

in the spirit of the recent posting by KAT, here are some things that i've learned (from others pointing it, usually) that gives away the fact that i have no children.

1) my car still smells like a new car.
it's not very new. in fact, it's got 17K miles on it and i bought it in November (brand new. i know. i don't know why i drive that far either to get to work), and it still - faintly to me - smells like a new car. i learned this from a friend who has children... and from another friend who told me that he recently disposed of a taco that he found in his backseat - and could not remember last eating taco bell.

2) i wear a lot of pointy high heels.
this one i heard a few times. i do wear a lot of pointy shoes, and they are difficult to walk in, and if i were to kick something - like a ball (i would never kick a child) -- it would leave a bad mark. in the case of a ball, it may actually pop it.

3) i recently purchased a TMX elmo.
hee hee hee. happy birthday, baby e! (don't worry, anonymous -- i'll bring your motrin)

How hard can this parenting thing be?

So I figure having Molly is great practice for someday being a parent (sooner rather than later if I have my way… and not in at least 10 years if the Pretend Husband gets his way). I mean, I’ve had to get used to not leaving her alone for more than eight hours and I’ve learned to check and make sure she has fresh water before I leave the house. Which I assume is exactly what you have to do with babies (at least until they’re tall enough to reach the sink themselves).

While I’m still not happy about having to get up early everyday, having Molly is good practice for the time when I’ll have to get up with a kid, take them into the backyard to pee and put their breakfast down on the floor of the kitchen (I’m just kidding about that one. They’ll be allowed to sit in my lap and eat off my plate just like Molly does).

And I’m sure kids love to be scratched behind the ears and have a toy thrown across the room for them to fetch. And then every night, we can have the kid jump up on the bed and stretch out between us.

Sounds easy enough to me. All you parents out there, is there anything I’m missing?