call me

Ever since spring began, I've noticed new love in the air more than ever. Unfortunately, as great as love is, it also comes with a whole set of problems. Enter the battle of proper communication.

As I'm sure the inventor of text messaging thought they had just come up with the best invention since waterproof M80's, they in fact just single handedly changed the dating world as we know it. Phone calls seem to be extinct, as boys think texting is their only way of communicating with us. This peeves me.

Why? Because just as girls don't like to go to the bathroom without a partner, they don't like send a message without it being proof read either. I myself don't like to collaborate, but have been called upon increasingly for double checks. So much in fact that I think the joke 'how many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb' doesn't hold a candle to the sad truth 'how many girls does it take to construct a text message?' It seems the answer is always plural. Now, waiting around for a boy to text me isn't how i want to spend my fertile years, so I request phone time. I haven't been able to come up with a brilliant response, but until I do 'call me' seems to do the trick.

Speaking of brilliant texts, I would like to share the most amazing jewel of a text message I've ever received. It came from an eastern european gentleman, so if you can swing the accent, you will most definitely get double the laugh.



My answer?
"I'd like to be 'onest' with you....its never gonna happen.....

SOS

Have you ever wondered what happens when the rhythm actually gets you? That would be my fantasy reality. Unfortunately for me, digital cameras have captured many moments of me in my captive state.

After a night of ballyhoo with my lady friends, "Where's the camera?" is most certainly the first thought on the brain. This is to ensure I dispose of all evidence of me (painstakingly use this word) dancing.

Life wasn't always like this though. Not so many moon ago, I was a dancer. I've always loved dancing and with choreography, I'm lovely. However, when I go rogue from my training (i.e. freestyling + champagne) its not a pretty sight. My moves of choice usually involve arms spiraling in the air, my hair shaking all around and oh let's not forget how I loooove to make it a sing along. The combo of the three is quite something - and if I may, the fact I can complete without injury, is almost a miracle. Recently I was nicknamed as 'dancy pants maduzia.' In honor of my new found title, here are some classics.....

More amazing than the time I ate my weight at Godfathers Pizza

It was just another night of tomfoolery - that is until I hopped into my car and noticed a napkin laying on my passengers seat? Seriously, did the valet eat in my car?!? After a closer examination I found the valet had not been eating in my car, but boy was he hungry for something, and that something was.........ME? Behold what love at first sight looks like.....

"Hi, I don't know your name, but you are 1,000,000 times beautiful. I want to tell you 1,000 things but I will tell you in 2 words - you are so beautiful. I want invite you for a diner. Please call me give me 1 opportunity. My name is Hector. I am the person that parked your car. Remember me? I know this crazy but I must see you again. Give me a chance you will never regret it. Congradulations for being beautiful."

Ahhhhh Hector, mi amor, as flattering as this all is, how could we ever make it work - How could I trust you? How would I know that you don't leave love napkins in all the girls cars? I can see the jealousy unfolding...... "how was work today papi? Did you congratulate anyone for being 1,000,000 beautiful?!" I just don't think I could bare the heart ache. Alas, true love - doomed before it even began......

the life of a paper princess...

Oh how I LOVE the California weather! After being held captive for a week with a cold, I felt I deserved a little time outdoors. I suppose its time to go back to work now. If all days could be like yesterday...

Only in my Dreams...

You'd be surprised, but growing up without a father can actually be a lot of fun. When I was younger, I got to play games that wouldn't be appropriate if I lived in a two parent household. You know the game 'If I had a million dollars, what would I buy?' Well, I put a lil twist on that and played 'If I could pick my daddy, who would it be?'
Since my family has spent a hefty amount of time purchasing things in warehouses, it should come as no surprise that for the past decade, James Caan has been my favorite daddy of choice. Sharing a lot of the same characteristics as the real men in my family (i.e. erratic temper, love for garlic) he seemed like a perfect match. That is, until recently.
Not too long ago, Theresa and I went to see Chaz Palminteri in his one man show of the Bronx Tale. INCREDIBLE. How he so seamlessly portrayed over 20 characters in the 187th street and Belmont Ave hood in 97 minutes with no bathroom brakes was truly remarkable and one of the best theatrical adventures I have ever attended.
After the show I got to meet Chaz, who I quickly came to find, is just about the coolest man to walk the planet. Sorry Jimmy, you've just been dethroned. I can say, with absolute certainty, that Chaz Palminteri is my ultimate dream dad of choice. We even look like we could be related, don't you think? Well, maybe in another life.....
For the record, I would like to apologize in advance to one person in particular if this game is in any way hurtful. Sorry mamma - you know you're the man...

Sretan Rodjen Dan Baba

Today is my Babas birthday. She would have been 86.
For those of you who didn't have the pleasure of knowing her before she passed, you missed out. Some of my most prized possessions happen to be her broken english post-it notes that I saved. Try and see if you can crack the code on your own first.

Non-refugee spelling: 'Tanja, if Theresa no work today, you girls stop by to take tangerines and cake home. Love, Baba'

Nadam se da si dobro. Nedostajes mi!
Voli te tvoja Tanja

40 days of lent my ass

Now, I'm not trying to complain here, but I was under the impression that lent lasted forty days. ONLY forty days. Nope! Unbenounced to me, forty six days to be exact is the duration of Lent this year. Frustration sets in. Apparently, the 'forty days' represent the time that, according to the Bible, Jesus spent in the dessert before.....bla bla bla let's get back to me now.
You see, I gave up something really important and if I may, a little ambitious this year...... All desserts. Yes, I repeat: ALL DESSERTS! That means no sprinkles cupcakes, no frozen yogurt with captain crunch and blueberry toppings - even my favorite trail mix with white chocolate chips are off limits. Ahahah my taste buds are starting to do the electric slide as we speak.
Why did I give up ALL desserts and not just one? Because my relationship with sweets plays like a bad after school special. First its just an innocent little cookie crumb, then before you know it I'm seven red velvet cupcakes deep and feeling gluttonous as f*#k. I've learned from the past - if I need to give up one, I must stay away from them all.
I was pondering if God would get upset if I took a lil 'time out' since I technically only signed up for forty days? Yeah.....maybe not the best idea. Especially since I'm not exactly the poster child for a model catholic. Not so long ago, while filling out a check for a traffic ticket, I wrote 'tell the officer who gave me this he can eat a d*#k!' in the memo portion. Probably not what Jesus would have done. Also, when there was samples at costco last week, I lied and took two saying one was for my mom. And then I went back a second time. To every stand.
What's a girl to do then? Nothing. I'll just sit here, bide my time and pretend my fruit cup is really a nutella crepe.
So if you happen to see me out and I pass on something sweet, please don't judge. I swear, I'm not that kind of girl - I'm only doing this for Jesus.