sassy two socks

Have you ever thought about....

2011-03-23T16:33:00.002-04:00

...the fact that when you are leaving a NYC subway during the morning commute and it's pretty packed, as it always is, and you're literally a little sardine, and you're walking up the stairs to the street single file the person in front of you's ass is just INCHES FROM YOUR FACE!!!! Now I can't stop examining the person walking in front me and stopping myself from forming the mental image of my face a mere few inches from their bare naked ass! It's really gross. Think about it.

<-- It could be this guy. Sickening.

Happy subway riding!

I am the star whisperer (celebrity-wise, not astrologically)

2011-03-22T12:58:00.010-04:00

<-- This is my coaster at work. Ain't it true?!

I've had some stuff on my mind lately and it's lead me to reinvigorate my blogging efforts, which have been pretty pathetic these past few months. Apologies to whomever you are... (is that a cavernous echo?)

First, there's something twisted about the fact that my mind immediately goes to dark and creepy places with the most mundane shit. I was recently running (okay, power walking) in the park and a recreational worker drove by in a converted golf cart, and then stopped at a wooden storage unit to load up on tools and equipment for the day. Just like when someone holds up those cards with giant stains and blots on them and asks you what's the first thing that comes to mind (I just googled it and they're called Rorschach cards), my immediate thought was, "that's a great place to store a dead body." I know, it's twisted and freakish. Now I'm worried that if my brain were tested for the serial killer trait I would test positive. But upon further thought I realize that the concept of storing a dead body in the wooden storage unit is flawed and would surely put me in big house. What's worse-the initial thought or the analyzing? One, it's a locked unit so unless I picked the lock or broke it somehow I wouldn't be able to get in. Two, it's wood. So if the D.B. (that's what the call it on CSI) were bloody it might seep out and someone might see it and call the po po. Three, the park workers probably go in the storage unit every day or every few days, so they'd likely find it before it even started to smell. Which leads me to point four - it's a high traffic area and would eventually smell. Unless I hid the D.B. in Winter when it was cold and there was less park workers and general patrons of the park around. Which might buy me a bit more time. However, if I were super stealth with DNA and other forensic shit it might not matter if the find it, but every criminal knows it's easier to walk free of a murder rap without a body! Either way you can see why I'm disturbed by my own mind. Scary shit, yo. Note to self: I'm watching waaaaayy too much crime television...

On a final note, I've seen three celebs in as many days. I saw Alec Baldwin on Sunday, riding his bike through Broadway traffic WITHOUT A HELMUT!, Kevin Bacon this morning in Central Park walking his two dogs, and Donald Sutherland this afternoon cruising through SoHo looking like a giant q-tip with his bleachy white hair. When will my streak end?? Stay tuned to find out.

PS - I'm totally expecting the NYPD to come to my door tonight and either a) arrest me for premeditated murder (even though I have yet to identify a target) or b) ask me to consult for them since my mind works like that of a criminal.

Random thought of the day

2010-10-28T11:12:00.003-04:00

Why is a case of wine 12 bottles, a case of whiskey 12 bottles.... but a case of beer is 24? I'm at a loss.

At first I thought it could be related to the alcohol % and volume - i.e. you got equally fucked up from each case of said alcoholic beverage, but that doesn't work when you think it through:

A case of beer will cause you to wake up on your front lawn with a grass stain on your face and bloody knee that you don't know how you got.

A case of wine will put you in the hospital getting your stomach pumped.

A case of whiskey will kill you.

So that theory is out the door.

What's your theory?

PS - SassyTwoSocks was referenced by Gawker a few days ago in reference to that psycho who was posting "wanted ads" for women... exciting! On a side note, I found out that my sister-in-law knows this dude, Malik. Creepy.

Is it just me or is anyone else tired of the gladiator sandal?

2010-07-10T10:00:00.000-04:00

I can't walk into a shoe store, mainstream or boutique, without being accosted by gladiator sandals. I see them and all I think about is Russell Crowe.

They are a fad that has lasted way too long. I'm sure many of you reading this own a pair and may be offended by my attack on a harmless shoe style. But let me ask you... don't you think they might just be a little ugly? Doesn't it bother you that everyone and their mother and gay brother is wearing them?

Let's review the various options, shall we?

1. Ugly. I can picture this on a homeless hippie who lost his job because he got arrested for smoking maryjane on the town common.

2. Not so bad. I barely consider this a gladiator shoe.

3. Ugly. Reminds me a parachute harness.

4. Meh

5. I just threw up. This wouldn't even look good on Giselle.

6. I just threw up again

7. Orange, really?

8. Doesn't everyone know that ankle straps like this give everyone a cankle?

9. Turquoise isn't so bad, but again with the cankle-making.

10. If I was held at gunpoint and was forced to wear a gladiator sandal, I'd pick this one.

I mean, look at this. I did a search for "gladiator" and the second most popular search is "gladiator sandals" followed by "gladiator shoes."

That's a sign right there that we need something new to obsess over. I'm open to some ideas... anyone have a good idea for a new trend to overkill???...

It sucks to be skinny AND have cankles

2010-07-09T00:00:00.000-04:00

In the midst of my panic attack about passing out with a apparent bottle of urine in my bag last night, I noticed a girl on the subway who was thin and svelt but had major cankles. And I thought to myself, "that poor, poor girl - to be blessed with the thin gene AND the fat ankle gene must suck." Big time.

You may be thinking, well isn't be thin with cankles better than being fat with cankles. Well, I disagree. At least if you're overweight, there's still somewhat of a curve to your calf/ankle area, versus your entire lower leg being one long stump.

Either way, I suppose cankles suck big time.

Do you think people get lipo on cankles? Just some food for thought on this wonderful, 99 degree Friday...

If your'e chewing, you're cheating!

2010-07-08T08:55:00.000-04:00

Today I started a 48-hour detox cleanse, along with 3 of my co-workers. It's basically Master Cleanse with a fancier name - a drink containing lemon juice with cayenne and maple syrup. I'm not sure why this concoction continues to be favored among the detoxification crowd but my theory is that the combination of sour, spicy and sweet and tricks your mouth into thinking it's actually ingesting something. But if you ask me, it's not working.

I'm a little pissed off at them calling it a "48-hour detox". In reality, the last meal I had was around 8pm Tuesday night, and I'm technically not allowed to eat again until Friday morning, so wouldn't that make it a "60-hour detox"? Why must they undermine me? If it were truly a 48-hour detox I could eat a dinner tonight at 8pm. Douches!

Last night, around the 21 hour mark I was completely looped out - everything was funny. I had more energy than I knew what to do with and all I could do was laugh my ass off at absolutely nothing.

I've literally hit the 36 hour mark since I last ate and delirium is setting in. I never thought I'd find myself so excited to drink my breakfast - because it's better than nothing.

Last night, when I left the office I brought a water bottle with some of the lemonade drink it in and put it in my purse. My biggest fear was passing out on the subway ride home and having some stranger find what appeared to be a bottle of urine in my bag...

This morning on the subway some dumb bitch was stuffing a croissant into her mouth about 12 inches away from my face. I tried to "accidentally" knock her coffee into her lap to no avail...

So here I sit, S-I-P-P-I-N-G my lemonade-y drink and repeatedly telling myself, "mind over matter, mind over matter"...

Today is my day. So shut it.

2010-03-15T13:22:00.004-04:00

In my office, each time it's someone's birthday, we photoshop a picture to include the face of our colleague, let's call him Wolf. Wolf is continually transformed into beautiful woman, famous celebrities, ladies with a bit more "girth", and famous athletes. If only each of us could be so lucky...

Here are a few examples:

And here is my very own bad birthday photoshop:

It's Jersey Shore meets the Backstreet Boys!

God, I love my job.

For what it's worth

2010-03-12T12:01:00.000-05:00

I would say my crush on Dexter is more comparable to my imaginable love affair with Anthony Bourdain than my brief crush on Bradley Cooper (which wazs ruined when he left Jennifer Aniston for Rene Zellweger - who does that? Ew.)

But then I saw this pic and I reconsidered and think I might have been a bit tough on him...

Morale of the story: don't exercise drunk and don't let the "stomach fat of life" get you down

2010-03-11T08:57:00.002-05:00

Feel free to make this your desktop background. It's mine until Summer starts.

There's nothing worse then getting back into a gym routine. You show up at the gym the first few times and feel pasty, saggy and ill equip to be mounting giant machines for long periods of time. Slowly, you'll gain confidence. But for now, it's all about hating every person with a nice set of abs and trying to secretly squeeze Crisco into their protein shake to make yourself feel better.

You start out by doing the easy stuff - like the elliptical/level 1 or the bike that is basically a video game to distract you from the fact that you're actually working out. You may try to run on the treadmill but find the exertion to interfere with your watching of Millionaire Matchmaker, which always seems to be on the gym televisions. (I heart you, Patty). So you either walk, or make your way over to the stair machine*footnote 1, which I also refer to as "my version of Hell", thinking it's better than running and risking a major treadmill fall. Fortunately, I'm not drunk when I go to the gym like that guy.

****side rant****
First of all, all you woman who put makeup on at the gym BEFORE you work out can bite me. I hate you all. Second, I'm trying out this potential new gym, and when did they start staffing live DJ's? If I wanted to go to a dance club I'd be shaking my booty at the nearest gay bar. Third, I've discovered that group exercise classes with my co-workers are ideal because my competitive spirit makes me want to crush every single one of them like a little ant.
***side rant ended***

This week, I was highly distressed when taking a class called Fluidity (which I happen to be in the infomercial for, no joke, when I was a few years younger, more agile and pretty buff, if I say so myself). I was doing a stretch where you sit on the floor, stretch one leg out and pull the other one in, while you lift your arms over your outstretched leg and lean over, getting a nice stretch in your lower back and hamstring. While I did this, I realized that I wanted to stretch even further down and out, but I couldn't! My stomach rolls were in the way. They were *physically* prohibiting me from going any further even though my muscles wanted me to!! How devastating a revelation is that?!

Regardless, my foray back into the fitness world has been a bit of a culture shock.

Here's a quiz for you (the answer is provided at the end of this post):

Due to the past few months of rigorous activity that I refer to as "watching Dexter on the couch for 5 hours straight" what of the following has occurred:

a) less focus at work
b) fewer come-ons from random strangers with wandering eyes
c) more nacho consumption (extra sour cream, please!)
d) flabbiness
e) I'm a bitch and it's a trick question
f) All of the above

footnote 1 I don't mean a Stairmaster - the pedals that just go up and down - I'm talking about the machine that is actually a set of 4 or 5 steps that rotate. Do you know how many people I've seen fall off this machine? Too many. (well, there's no such thing as *too many* because I live to see people fall, but you catch my drift). Whomever built this torturous piece of machinery should be crushed with it, slowly and painfully.

On a side note, on a scale of 1 to 10, how sad is it that the season premier of Gossip Girl is the highlight of my week?

answer to pop quiz: (f) It's shameful, really.

You know you're a bad parent if...

2010-03-10T09:52:00.000-05:00

You not only make your kid watch a maze that turns into a scary death face... but video tape him while he frantically punches the television and runs around sobbing...

Click HERE because the stupid embed code has been disabled.

There are like hundreds of these videos of parents torturing their children... even I'm not that cruel.

And just because I can (AND because you're an adult)...

You know you're watching too much crime scene tv if...

2010-03-09T09:47:00.000-05:00

- You write down or photograph the badge number of every cab you take just in case your body is found dead, so the police can trace it back to the killer.

- When the food delivery guy comes to your apartment while you're alone, you turn up the tv and talk to someone who isn't there to make him think there is someone else in the house (therefore preventing him from attacking you).

- Keep a machete under your mattress to ward off intruders (AND think you can actually use it effectively).

- Dream in the first person that you were in an episode of CSI: New York and you're being chased by a man in a clown mask with a chainsaw.

- Cross the street needlessly just to avoid a man that looks a little like Dexter the serial murdering blood spatter analyst.

- Hold your keys in your hand with the pointy end out thinking that you would stand a chance against an attacker with just a puny piece of scrap metal.

- You are convinced that the guy at the dry cleaner is in the mafia and is laundering money using the bags that carry your dirty clothes in and out of the shop. Your evidence: the $20 bill you found in your pant pocket.

- You keep your hair cut short, despite that fact that your guy prefers the Pam Andersen "just sexed up" look, so that no one can grab you from behind.

- You worry that someday the police will think you committed a crime because they found a random strand of hair or hangnail at a crime scene and consider it evidence against you. When in reality your hair just sheds a lot, you have dry cuticles, and you're a girl about town!

- You make your man sleep closer to the bedroom door so that if an intruder breaks in and tries to kill you both he'll get killed first so you have a chance of escaping.

I tried to take some pictures of me looking paranoid and scared, but this is all I got. So have a good laugh.

PS - the pictures of proof positive that I need some Botox, but Mr. T gets very upset when I bring it up. He's paranoid that I'm going to look like Meg Ryan or something. Ugh, my life is so hard sometimes...

Cape Cod meets Soho with a bit of Sass (meaning me) thrown in...

2010-03-08T14:31:00.004-05:00

That is how a colleague described this bag:

If you ever wanted to know what I would look like if I were embodied in a material item, it would be this Fatal Travel Tote by Treesje. (PS - my birthday is next week and I'm taking donations!)

I was having a conversation with Mr. T and his dad (the FIL) yesterday and the FIL brought up Munchausen's syndrome. I was nearly certain that this refers to when a mother tries to get attention by projecting illness on her child (like external hypochondria). The FIL was saying that it is actually the same as hypochondria but in the extreme. We went back and forth about what it really was until Mr. T looked it up on his iPhone. The actually definition (per some fancy medical institution) is:

Munchausen syndrome is a type of factitious disorder, or mental illness, in which a person repeatedly acts as if he or she has a physical or mental disorder when, in truth, they have caused the symptoms.

I realized at that point that 1) I was wrong, and 2) that my ENTIRE basis for thinking I knew what it was came from an Eminem song. My parents always said I should be a lawyer because I can argue anything to death, even stuff I know nothing about...

I think I've been putting a lot of pressure on myself lately to write thoughtful and witty blog entries, rather than just write whatever is on my mind each day (which tends to inherently be random and ridiculous). So I'm vowing to post every day for the next 30-days regardless of my mental state or lack of creativity. Ideas welcome...

Ask me how I wove Rob Zombie, David Caruso and Justin Timberlake into this post [cause I have no effing idea]

2010-02-25T13:19:00.010-05:00

I walked into the gym Monday morning and the lady behind the counter said, "Long time no see, stranger!" That'll make a girl feel good.

Going to gym made me remember what it's like to be human again. To have a life and a routine that doesn't include working from sun-up to CSI: Miami (god, I love that show).

(Side note: Did you know that Rob Zombie is directing next week's episode?)

Lately, I live and breath work, which could be worse because I love my job, my colleagues and my company. BUT when I wake up at 3am remembering things I forgot to do and have to write them down on a post-it next to my bed, it becomes pathetic...

Mr. T has been great with my insane schedule. And even more so, with my recent attempts at achieving some level of normalcy. He's single-handedly been running our household, as I'm pretty much perpetually in one of three states: 1) at work, 2) in transit, or 3) on the couch watching Dexter. If I had to pick a fourth state, it'd be "drunk".

(I'm saving the subject of Dexter for a later blog post... YES! it's that important.)

I've happily included a pic of Justin Timberlake on a motorcycle as an example of abnormality, if only to make myself feel better. I like the guy, don't get me wrong, but any former boy-bander would look wrong with rolled up cuffs, a backpack, and a helmet.

Lastly, I was accosted by a crazy lady in the subway two weeks ago. Literally, I was shoved and a bag I was holding went flying out of my arms and almost went over the platform and onto the tracks. I begun yelling vulgarities at her, as an involuntary response, and soon realize that if she's crazy enough to shove me and then resume her blank staring at the wall, I probably want to watch myself before I get murdered or worse...

If I was David Caruso, I would now say something vague and painfully serious, like "... and we're not going to let that happen..." and then the loud screaming of The Who would kick in.

There's no better way to say I love you [didn't I use that blog title before?]

2010-01-22T18:47:00.004-05:00

I came across this vulva portrait necklace in Cosmo magazine (!), as if it was completely normal... there was no mention of the fact that it's disturbing. Just the mere concept gave me a chill. I can't even bring myself to include a picture of the damn things here.

Please note the fact that "Each piece is an original, one of a kind hand sculpted image of its owner to remind her that regardless of what the world and the people in it may tell her: she is beautiful."

The fact that someone might actually have this made, let alone send pictures of their own vajayjay, is just mind boggling to me. Cause you know there's some skeevy old perv on the other end of that purchase just waiting for unsuspecting feminists or clueless boyfriends/girlfriends to send along a picture of a big VAJ! thinking that someone might actually think that this is a gift of some kind...

I mean I'm all for a woman feeling powerful and beautiful, but can't you just go buy a pair of nice shoes on sale or put on some sexy underwear?

Seriously. Ick.

More on this later.... it's Friday at 7:13PM and it's officially the weekend (or some semblance of what I call "weekends" these days)...

Tim Burton and I may be soulmates

2009-12-10T15:27:00.004-05:00

I've always been into very macabre artistry, like Edward Gorey and Tim Burton. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because everyone has a dark side that wants to get out? Or perhaps not, and I'm just messed up?

It's funny because I can't even throw a gum wrapper on the ground for fear of bad karma, but I delight in reading Edward Gorey's Gashlycrumb Tinies, about a class of schoolchildren dying in various ways.

I recently visited the MoMa where there is an extensive Tim Burton exhibit, ranging from movie costumes (Edward Scissorhands, Beetlegeuse, among others), to sketchbook drawings, to paintings and sculptures. It was amazing and I feel like I need to go again just to take it all in. I have fallen in love with the miniseries Stain Boy of his. It's sick and twisted, and yet cute at the same time. Is that possible?

Here's a little viewing of Stain Boy for you:

There are many more of these if you fall in love like I did... just head to YouTube.

Feel free to comment and tell me how fucked up I am. I won't take it personally... promise.

O.M.G. Seriously?

2009-12-02T17:57:00.000-05:00

A great way to start my day...

2009-11-17T09:17:00.005-05:00

Don't ask me why this prompted me to post for the first time in a month. Cause I have no answer for you...

Let me set the stage for this morning's traumatic event.

This morning I woke up exhausted. Couldn't sleep. No idea why. About once a week, I sleep like shit cause my mind is reeling and nothing I do (read, watch tv, count backwards) seems to help. So I wake up, after falling asleep at 3 or 4am) super groggy and tired. As usual, the cats are eager for breakfast and are mewing up a storm.

I realize I'm a complete a-hole. I was supposed to work from home today because I have a mid-day doctor appointment, but I left my laptop at work the night before. So I have two options: 1) Get showered and dressed, go into work for an hour or two, then leave the office early for the doctor's appointment and afterward work from home for the afternoon, or 2) Put on my giant sunglasses and gym clothes, and trudge to the office before anyone else gets there, snag the laptop and make it home in time for my early phone meeting. I choose option 2.

I'm in my already worn, nasty gym clothes and sunglasses that cover half my face, walking to Starbucks. Because there's no way I can face the day, tired and heading to the OBGYN (fun times), without caffeine. I get my fix and an eye roll from the cashier and I'm headed to the subway station. It's 7:15 in the morning, early, but still enough people around for it not to be entirely deserted. I'm groggily strolling along, sipping my iced tea, annoyed that I have to go into the office, WHEN.................

A FREAKING DEAD BIRD HITS THE PAVEMENT A MERE FOOT FROM MY HEAD!!!!!!

At least I think (or hope) he's dead before he hits the ground...

He falls hard and fast, with a thud and a slight crunch. I say, "OH FUCK" out loud and just stand there for what felt like 30 seconds but was probably 1. I turn around and a woman is about 10 feet behind me but is looking at her phone and hasn't seen the poultry falling from the sky.

It's not a large bird, just your average small bird, but I'm amazed at how hard it lands. His wings aren't splayed, his feet aren't mangled, he's just in a tight little bundle, like a chicken nugget, or how I would imagine him sitting on a branch, scoping out the lady birds. I look up, expecting to see the tree that it fell out of. But all I see is 30 stories of stark cement buildings. No foliage of any kind. Where could this little guy have come from??? (I don't know why I assume it's a boy, but I just do...)

I quickly come to the conclusion that either a) god is punishing me and is raining dead animals down on me, b) the swine flu has migrated to birds, or c) the bird flew into a window, knocked himself out (poor guy), and fell to his death, nearly taking me out with him.

I'm still freaking out at the fact that this *THING* with a sharp beak and mini-dagger-claws fell from the sky with the downward speed of a rocket and nearly landed on me. I don't care if he hit my head, my arm or my Starbucks, I literally don't know what I would have done if he made contact with me. I guess there's a chance that I could have been knocked out. Which probably would have been for the best, because honestly, I think I would completely lose my shit. Flailing around. Screaming. Shaking the dead birdiness off of me. Jeeeesus.

I'm definitely a bit traumatized by my run in with death this morning. Regardless of the fact that it was probably Darwin's theory of evolution at work.

R.I.P. Little Birdie.

If you think YOU got too drunk...

2009-10-16T13:52:00.001-04:00

Watch this guy...

Worst Shopping Run Ever - Watch more Funny Videos

All the single ladies! You're prayers are answered!

2009-10-03T10:31:00.000-04:00

Parkour! done wrong

2009-10-02T10:27:00.001-04:00

I nearly pissed myself when I saw this.

Do any of you know the movie House of 1,000 Corposes, directed by Rob Zombie? It was his first movie (and unfortunately, his worst) and the kid who played Fishboy was Dwight! Who knew that Rob Zombie discovered Dwight...

Where's Sassy???

2009-10-01T17:00:00.008-04:00

Honestly, I have no idea.

Mr. T says I don't *write* anything on my blog anymore. That I merely post obscene pictures and cat videos. To that I say, eff off. You try and work a bazillion hours a week, keep your fat ass in shape, be a wife, a good cat-mommy, AND blog about cool shit!!!!

Ok, it *IS* possible. I think.

So the real question is: Where *IS* Sassy??? (I'm picturing Where's Waldo? from when I was a kid).

So the answer is... I'm trying to find some sense of balance in my life and not doing a great job at it. My work life is insane, though I do love my job and coworkers, almost to the point of a cult-ish obsession, (so I can't complain too much there). I am struggling to get exercise in, which I need more for my sanity and destressing then for vanity reasons (even though my ass is a *titch* larger these days). Why is it so hard to find balance?

I feel like I need a bit of zen in my life right now. Some cool cucumbers on my eyes. A soft breeze on my face. A deep foot rub. And some new clothes (cause doesn't a new outfit always make you feel better?) Maybe I'll buy one of those miniature zen gardens for my office... you know, the little black box with the stones and rake. I never quite got those things... the only fun part was drawing perverted symbols in the sand and seeing if your co-workers would notice (which they usually didn't.... losers.)

So now you know. I'm pretty much in shambles. Ok, well that's a bit of an exaggeration. But you know where I'm headed with this. I could use some advice for finding time to do all the things you need *AND* want to do in your life.

Yours truly,
Forever Sassy

As a Masshole and Red Sox fan, this could be the best thing I've seen in months

2009-09-25T09:25:00.001-04:00

MA Men from Joey McIntyre

Why you shouldn't eat too much garlic...

2009-09-20T12:36:00.000-04:00

Keep fucking that chicken!

2009-09-19T10:32:00.000-04:00

New York newscaster on live tv...

Why I love cats... because the make no sense...

2009-09-18T10:22:00.000-04:00