Saturday Sayin's

Sweat, Manners and The Stinkeye

The Zadge hit the gym tonight in an effort to sweat out the gelatinous muffin top drama and stress of the past week at the Top Secret Day Job.  She thought she would have a good hard workout that would leave her relaxed and primed for the weekend.

Too bad the annoying dipshit next to her on the elliptical machine didn't have the same plan.

See, The Zadge was happily sweating away on the elliptical with her headphones plugged into the TV, trying to Keep Up With the bad plastic surgery had by The Kardashians, when some little twit got on the elliptical next to The Zadge...yapping away on her cellphone.

Now, the Zadge's gym is a fairly swanky place that doesn't come cheap.  And there is a "no cellphone" policy in the gym.  For obvious reasons - so you are not paying good money to work out next to some dipshit yapping away to her dipshit friend about their dipshit weekend plans.

The Zadge first tried to turn up the volume on her TV to drown out the dipshitisms.  No luck.  Dipshits apparently think everyone is interested in hearing their inane conversation.

Then the Zadge tried The Stinkeye. Many of you know that The Zadge is quite accomplished at delivering The Stinkeye and rarely fails to bring the target of The Stinkeye to their knees.  But the Dipshit, apparently sensing the sheer power of the Zadge Stinkeye, would only give an occasional sideway glance to the Zadge as she continued to yap away.

The Zadge sweated and fumed for another 15 minutes while the twit prattled on.  Then one of the gym's personal trainers walked up to the weight machine in front of the row of ellipticals and The Zadge thought, "Oh, you are so busted now, Dipshit Twit."  But Dipshit Twit cleverly turned her body so the trainer couldn't see her phone and stopped talking.  The trainer didn't even look up.

Now The Zadge was pissed.  She tried to channel the yogic breathing her teacher always talks about and silently hummed "Om."   Yeah, that lasted 15 seconds.  She tried a second and then a third attempt at The Stinkeye, to no avail.  She whispered under her breath, "Twit, if you are able to yap on your phone for 30 minutes, you aren't working out hard enough." 

After 30 minutes of listening to the TwitYap, The Zadge had had enough.  She stepped off the elliptical, walked up to the front desk, and asked for the manager.  She told the manager that some twit had been twittering away on her cellphone for 30 straight minutes.  The manager was apologetic and said she would "take care of it."

The Zadge calmly walked back to her elliptical machine and resumed her workout next to the Dipshit Twit.  A few moments later, the manager appeared and told the Dipshit Twit that there were no cellphones allowed in the gym.  Dipshit, rather than actually hang up the damn phone, decided that she just had to keep talking to her fellow dipshit and got off the elliptical.

As Dipshit Twit started to walk away, she stopped and turned to The Zadge and said, "You could have said something to me!"  The Zadge responded, "I shouldn't have to tell you Dipshit Twit.  What, were you raised by wolves?"

Ok, so she really didn't say the Dipshit Twit part or the raised by wolves part.  But she did say the rest and finally find the peace in her workout that she was looking for!

Blowing Off Steam

Things at the Top Secret Day Job are exploding, Harry decided in the middle of the night to lay a big pile of runny poo on the rug formerly worth $6,000, construction is still going on in Old Vicky, and Charlie Sheen is naked and losing his mind.

What's a Zadge to do?

She's heading out with her San Francisco BFF, who is in town for just one night, to blow off some steam.  And she will not be naked and destroying a hotel room while a terrified prostitute hides in the bathroom.

At least we hope not.

Monday Musings

1. Honey Crisp apples are better than chocolate.
2. The Zadge wonders if there is anyone in the country who is actually influenced to change their vote from the gazibillion ranting political ads running non-stop on TV.
3. What if money was banned from all political campaigns, everyone had to vote based on a series of debates and all that saved money was spent to pay down our debt?
4. How is Ann Curry still employed?
5. Is 46 the magic age when you open a People/US Weekly/Star magazine at the nail salon and don't know who the f*#k any of the people in the magazine are?
6. Match.com is working out really well for The Zadge.  If you consider one date, with a recovering alcoholic political ranter, and 50 winks from mustached serial killers, over the course of 5 months successful.
7. One of The Zadge's biggest driving pet peeves: people who think they need to swing the car right before they turn left.  It's an axle people - it's not like a dog on a leash!
8. Brett Favre has now admitted to sending his skanky, sexually harassing voice mails to the boob-enhanced Jets girl he didn't know, but denies that he then sent - from the very same phone - the lovely photos of him spanking his monkey.  Riiiighht.
9. We discussed yoga etiquette as it pertains to persistent farting - what about the girl next to you who picks her toes through class? Working on her Toe Chakra?
10. Finally, the drop dead gorgeous Halle Berry has a new boyfriend and he's one of The Zadge's old boyfriend's - Oliver Martinez!

Olivier and The Zadge were hot and heavy when his breakout movie Unfaithful with Diane Lane and Richard Gere came out.  The Zadge loved practicing her french kissing with Olivier.  But Daniel Craig came along and The Zadge had to let Olivier go.  She's glad that Halle has picked him up now.  Oh, and The Zadge also has the boots that Halle is wearing, but in brown.  Gosh, we have so much in common.

Saturday Sayin's

I know it's shocking, but every once in a while, The Zadge just doesn't have anything to say.

Hot Friday Night

Is the Bathroom finished?!

Yes.

And no.

Remember when I told you that the plumber had to order a special piece to raise the shower head high enough so our Amazonian heroine could shower properly? Well, Babe the Builder called this afternoon to say that the part was in, the shower head was installed and the bathroom was finally ready for The Zadge's first shower. She sounded tentative.  She ended her message with, "Uh, let me know what you think."

The Zadge got home and ran upstairs to check out her long-awaited new bathroom. She was actually on the phone with Babe when she opened the bathroom door and saw the shower head. Dead silence. "Oh my god, it's really funny looking," I told Babe. Babe replied, "I know. I wasn't expecting it to look like that. In fact, I started laughing when I saw it."

So, Babe is hard at work exploring other options for the Amazon's shower head problem, but in the meantime, The Zadge took her first shower in her new bathroom tonight and she is thrilled.

Shall we?

Ah, but first, how about a look again at the heinous old bathroom:

Yuck. Yuck. Double yuck.

But ta-da!  The new bathroom with the funny shower head thing-a-ma-bobby:

The Zadge loves pedestal sinks, so she bought the same Kohler Memoirs one that she put in her D.C. house when she renovated that bathroom.  Oh, and The Zadge hates clogged toilets, so she bought the Toto Promenade with Super Human Flushing capacity:

The medicine cabinet and light fixtures (including one you can't see in this photo in the ceiling) are from Restoration Hardware:

I wiped all the blood off of the Tar-Jay cabinet I built myself last week:

Still need a window treatment.  I feel a fabric frenzy coming on:

I love, love, love my tile.  The tile in the shower is Ming Green Marble subway tiles from Ann Sacks:

And the tile on the floor is a Thassos Marble/Ming Green Dot basketweave:

Oh! And the floor is heated!

The Zadge got an extra long tub from Kohler because, well, she's extra long.  And a built in nook for all those damn products that Lorenza accused her of using:

All of the faucets, shower head, and towel racks are uber-expensive Satin Nickel Kohler fixtures that The Zadge could never afford, except that her Beloved Babe gave them to her gratis. Thanks Babe!

I've already planned out my first extra long bubble bath in the extra long tub for tomorrow night, complete with a couple of magazines, a couple of candles and an extra big vodka tonic!

One of the downsides of being an Amazon

Here's a picture of The Zadge's gorgeous new bathroom:

Oh, wait - those are her gorgeous dogs, not her gorgeous bathroom.  Because said bathroom is still not finished!

But it will be tomorrow!  See, because The Zadge is one tall glass of water (if you don't believe me, check out Friday Night Laughs), Babe the Builder had to order a special part to make the shower head higher so that The Zadge won't hit her noggin on the showerhead (and, ahem, any tall men who may be using please Baby Jesus of Bethlehem her shower in the future).

So tune in tomorrow for -- keep your fingers crossed -- the Big Bathroom Reveal.

Hot Saturday Night Date

The Zadge spent Saturday night with two of her favorite cuties.

Oh no, I'm not talking about The Hazz and PugMama (also known as She Who Refuses To Be Photographed).  They were at Old Vicky too, and I like them a whole lot, but they're not the ones who made my night.

No, I'm talking about these two cutie-patooties, The Baby Hazzes:

How cute are these little munchkins?  And how much cuter were they when we went on a secret  "hunt" for Tulip the Cat, pulling out a flashlight to search under all the beds in the house?

And what does it say about The Zadge that she'd rather spend her Saturday night with hairy critters and cute things under 3 feet tall who like to crawl under beds,  than out looking for a man?

Oh, and by "hairy critters" I mean Jackson, Harry and Tulip not The Hazz and PugMama.

Saturday Sayin's

Friday Night Laughs

Today I was planning to post The Big Bathroom Reveal photos.  But I'm not.  Because apparently the new bathroom will never, ever be finished.

Unable to use her main bathroom for going on seven weeks now, and having yet another shit-tay day at the Top Secret Day Job, The Zadge needs a stiff drink some laughs.  And she figures you do too.  So she's pulled out some shots of the Young Zadge that she hopes will make you smile.

Check out poor Moomskers trying to corral the already "exuberant" three-year old Zadge:



Doesn't Moomskers look all Mad Men-ish?!  And here's the young Zadge and her even younger Sis cooling off.  Just like a lab puppy, one look at those feet and you could tell she was gonna be a tall one:


This was probably first or second grade.  Not sure why the young Zadge's hair looks red but perhaps it's because she hadn't yet learned about professional highlights:


Here's the young Zadge on her sixth birthday with her first bicycle.  Notice that her incredible growth spurt was going full throttle and she can fit an almost-adult-sized bike:


Here's our eight-year old heroine at her First Communion:



Little did she know then that that would be her only walk down a church aisle wearing all white!

A few months later, young Zadge got all hip and cut her hair into a shag:

She's had hair issues ever since.

Ok, moving on the really embarrassing photos.  Here's our ridiculously tall sixth grader, sporting the Dorothy Hamill haircut of the day, some heinous plastic glasses and a hive-inducing 100% polyester uniform:


Oh, and some really pointy elbows and linguine legs.

But here's the winner of the day.  Drumroll please.  Here is our fashion icon on the first day of Sixth Grade, with her two younger siblings.  Note that at this point, the Zadge was only a half inch shy of her current almost 5' 10" and that there is only a year between her and little Sis:


Really, does this one even need any commentary?

Shit happens.

As I watched each miner getting pulled out of the Chilean hole-in-the-ground they've called home for the last 70 days, and saw them rejoice and embrace their loved ones, I teared up and no doubt had the same thought we've all had after watching such a moving scene.

Where did they poop?!

Speaking of poop, these are the running shoes The Zadge was wearing tonight when she took her angel and devil dogs for their evening walk:

Do you see the large clump of dog shit stuck to the bottom of The Zadge's left shoe?

Well, she didn't and proceeded to walk into her house, unleash the dogs, stroll through her living room, dining room, on into the kitchen, putz around there for a while, before walking back through all the aforementioned rooms, up the stairs and into her bedroom -- bedroom folks! -- where she went to undress for her post-workout shower, and it wasn't until then that she discovered the clump of dog shit on her shoe.

I imagine I won't be getting many requests to visit Old Vicky anytime soon.

Monday Musings

1.   The Zadge would really like to enjoy the Monday Night Football game she is watching between the Vikings and the Jets but she can't get the disturbing image of Brett Favre's slightly odd-looking penis that looks like it's wearing an itty bitty skull cap out of her mind.

2.    If you don't know why The Zadge is talking about a famous quarterback's wanger, you need to read more news.  Or watch this  - but not at work!

3.    The Zadge would like to extend her thanks to Chris Columbus for almost discovering America.  His near miss gave her a day off today. Grazie.

4.    The Zadge spent her day off shopping.  The Zadge hates shopping, but desperately needed new work out clothes, a couple of tops and a $500 Silver Fox fur vest.  Ok, so I didn't buy the fur vest.  But I thought about it long and hard.  Then I imagined the PETA bunch throwing red paint on me, and we all know red isn't my color, so I decided against it.

5.    But speaking of red, I did spot a pretty pair of red suede pumps that I briefly considered trying on - until I turned them over to see how much they cost and saw that they were called "The Palin."  I did an air-puke and put them down.

6.    And can someone please tell retail workers to baby jesus of bethlehem STOP asking me at every turn, "Hi.  Can I help you?  Are you looking for something in particular?"  Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm looking for all of you overly friendly, smiley, eager salespeople to leave me the fuck alone.

7.    The Zadge cut her shopping trip short because being in a mall gives her hives so that she could go home and deal with this:

This, my friends, is a mere 479 pieces that go together to make an armoire for The Zadge's new bathroom.  Rather than shell out lots of cabbage to a skilled carpenter to make a bathroom storage cabinet, The Zadge hit a local, very high-end boutique called "Le Tar-Jhay" where she bought a do-it-yourself number.

Two hours and some blood later (yes, blood), The Zadge built herself this little number:


8.  I thought I'd be able to show you the finished armoire in the finished bathroom, but alas, the big reveal will have to wait a few days as plumbers apparently only work one day every two weeks.

9.   What's the proper etiquette when you are in a crowded yoga class and the woman on the mat a mere one inch in front of you farts through the whole class? When she's tooting away in Up Dog, you are are definitely not "breathing in.

10.    And finally, after a day of shopping, blood, yogic farts and famous weird wangers, how nice is the first fire of the season?

Saturday Sayin's

Watch what you wish for

Do you remember The Zadge's cleaning lady who left The Zadge's belongings in wacky places? And The Zadge couldn't ask her where she put the [fill in the blank] because the only Spanish that The Zadge knows is "Hola Tequila"?

Well, she moved back to Guatemala so The Zadge had to find a new cleaner. The Hazz and Pugmama both use the same woman and both recommended her. Plus, she spoke English, which The Zadge thought would be a plus.

Yeah, if you like to understand your cleaning woman as she insults you.

Like yesterday morning, when Lorenza arrived at Old Vicky and said, "Every Thursday when I come and look at your house, I can't believe I was here just a week ago!"

Uh, excuse me? Are you calling me a pig? Have you noticed that the house is a damn construction zone, and that I have three critters dropping hair and dirt all over the place? And if my house was clean, why would I need your English-speaking ass?

Then she peeked into the almost-finished new bathroom. "Oh, it's beautiful. But will you have enough room for your stuff. [She pauses briefly here.] Ms. Zadge you really have a lot of stuff. Me, I just use a little eyeliner and that's it."

Hey, back off Lorenza - natural beauty doesn't come cheap, pain-free or naturally.

And then, as I was walking out the door to go to work, I heard her say under her breath, "These dogs are so spoiled."

So she speaks English and perhaps the truth, but I think I prefer the weekly hunt for my things!

Cattin' around

I don't want to be catty, but guess which hussy slipped out of the house last night and didn't come home until this morning?

Oh, the walk of shame this morning.   

A girl's gotta sleep off a night like that:

When I tried to ask her about it today, all she had to say was.......

Yowzzaaa!

Facebook: The Old Boyfriend Edition, Part II

When we last left our intrepid Facebooker, she had just managed to shake off Stalker Ex accurately affectionately known as "The Blowfish."  As I sat down to pen Part II of the edition, I realized there's a theme with my Facebook stalkers.  And apparently, it involves girth.

Most recently, I was "friended" on Facebook by an old boyfriend named Jack.  Short for "John."  That's an important fact.  Remember it for the reading comprehension quiz I'll be handing out at the end.

The Zadge refers to Jack as "The Golf Pro" because, well, he is one. The Zadge is so clever with her nicknames.  The Zadge's family, however, refers to him as "The Load."

See, The Zadge dated The Load for a now-mind boggling three years in her late 20s/early 30s.  I say "now" because if I were to go on one date with The Load today, there would not be a second, let alone 1000 more days together.

On the surface, The Load seemed like a promising match for the young Zadge.  He was tall (well, tall enough at 6 feet), uber-athletic, had gone to Stanford (no, The Zadge did not date Tiger Woods), had a creative streak, and was very sweet and affectionate with the young Zadge.  Oh, and he got her a really good set of golf clubs.

And boy did he love her cooking!  So much so that he gained 30 pounds during the time we were together.  Here's that girth thing again!  You should have seen him at Moomskers' holiday dinners:  he'd have several helpings, a couple of beers, then he'd actually excuse himself and go up to one of Moomskers' spare rooms and take a nap!

I know, I know, you're saying to yourself, "Goddamn, that Zadge is one superficial bee-otch.  The guy gains a few pounds and she decides to slander him all over the interwebs."  Well, slow down sally, there's a few things I've yet to mention about The Load.

Like the porn addiction.

And the alcoholism.

Oh, yeah, and how about the time, a few days before we were scheduled to leave on vacation to Bermuda, he stayed out all night because he was picking up some hussy in a bar, and then has to go to Bermuda by himself because The Zadge dumps his load-ass and then four months later he is marrying said hussy because he got her pregnant? 

Now do you think I'm justified?

So that was 15 years ago, and basically, The Zadge has never given The Load another thought ever.  So a few months ago, I got a friend request from said cheating-drinking-golfing-porning ex.  Did I learn from The Blowfish?  Apparently not, since I clicked "Accept" before I had time to think.  Frankly, I just wanted to see how big he'd gotten.

Within minutes, I received a Facebook message from The Load, thanking me for accepting his request, profusely apologizing for "the way I treated you,"  telling me his marriage was ending (BIG SURPRISE there) and saying he wanted to talk to me.  And then he commented, "I love that you named your dog Jackson."

I checked out his page - saw that he had two teenaged boys (one of whom was presumably conceived while he was dating me!) and that he was no bigger than the last time I'd seen him -- and promptly forgot about him all over again.

The occasional message would pop up in my inbox over the next few months, saying things like, "You look great!"  I ignored them all.

Then I got this message from him last week:  "I'd really like to talk to you.....Jackson."

Are you f*#king kidding me, Loado?! You think I named my beloved angel after YOU?!  Are you still drunk?  Do you know that on that odd occasion when someone calls the Shone "Jack," I immediately correct them and say, no, it's Jackson?!

That was it.  I promptly hit the "Unfriend" button.  It's one thing to cheat on me.  It's a whole different ball of wax when you try to sully the name of my beloved angel!

Ba-Bye Loado!

Saturday Sayin's

Facebook: The Old Boyfriend Edition, Part I

In light of today's premiere of "The Social Network," the movie about the rich-as-shit dweeb who stole started Facebook, The Zadge thought she'd share her own Facebook story.

It's called "The Old Boyfriend Stalking Network."

You know how we've all heard about those women who reconnect with their long-lost loves on Facebook and end up marrying them after all these years?  Yeah, that's not this story.

Shortly after The Zadge joined Facebook, she received a friend request from a guy she dated 15 years ago.  In the Zadge's nickname world, his name was The Model.  Because he was 6'2", gorgeous, had abs of steel and actually had been a model in New York before The Zadge started dating him in D.C.  The Model and The Zadge dated on and off for several years but never really went anywhere because The Model was not all that into commitment at the time.  She eventually lost track of him, and moved on to date numerous other non-model commitment phobes.

Flash forward 15 years.  The Zadge gets a friend request from The Model.  Curiosity overwhelms her and she accepts.  His profile picture is two adorable blond children.  Ok, so he apparently overcame that commitment problem.  She pages through his Facebook page: he is married, lives in South Carolina and has two little kids. No pictures of him, no info about his job.

A few minutes after she accepts his request, The Zadge receives a Facebook message from The Model, "I have to talk to you . Call me."

Hmmmm, The Zadge's curiosity is killing her.   She remembers his abs and she picks up the phone.   Then she and The Model proceed to have a 90 minute phone conversation, in which he reveals that a) he is morbidly unhappy in his marriage and that his wife is an unmedicated Bipolar nut case, and b) he has been pining away for The Zadge, wants to move to Colorado to be with her, and even confesses his love for her.

Say wha???????

Ok, I admit, at this point, I began to cue the sappy music and started imagining that I was finally going to have some big romantic finale to my life of singledom.  And it happened that the Top Secret Day Job required me to be in South Carolina in just a few months.  So The Model and I decided that we would meet up for dinner when I was out there.  I ended the call by saying, "Hey, send me some photos of yourself."

He did send the photos.  I happened to be back in D.C. staying at my BFF's house when said photos arrived by e-mail.  BFF was kind of excited by the whole Old Boyfriend Resurfacing Story too, so she joined me at the laptop to open the photos.  As BFF and I sat at her kitchen table, I clicked on the link to open the photos.

There was dead silence.  Then a gasp by me, and a guffaw from BFF before she shouted, "Oh my god, he's fat!"

I couldn't believe what I saw.  The Model was almost unrecognizable.  He looked bloated and puffy and not like a guy who ever sported a six pack, let alone modeled for Ralph Lauren.

The Model had become The Blowfish.

BFF recovered and said, "Well, maybe he's on some sort of medication that makes him look like that."

Ok, ok, The Zadge is shallow, but not that shallow.  She was still willing to meet him.  After all, she could force him into a gym and only feed him 300 calorie meals for a year.

But The Zadge's trip to South Carolina was still two months away.  Which meant that The Blowfish started calling The Zadge, at work, several times a week bemoaning his life, which by the way, included no job!  Apparently, The Blowfish had owned a restaurant that went out of business.

Perhaps because he ate all of the customers' food?

As the time for The Zadge's trip to South Carolina neared, The Blowfish's calls started to get needier and more sappy.  The Zadge's desire for The Blowfish was diminishing with every new complaint about his sad, unemployed life as a stay-at-home dad.

The Zadge arrived in South Carolina for her work trip, which required her to be in a conference room with a hundred other people from 8:30 a.m. until 5.  With her phone turned off.  So when she stepped out of the conference in the late afternoon to hit the ladies' room, she discovered FIVE voicemails from The Blowfish, each one in an increasingly needy, hurt tone, accusing The Zadge of "pulling away from him."

That was it.  The Zadge had to dropkick The Blowfish.  Which she did by e-mail, because she just couldn't bear to hear his whiny neediness one more time.

And then she promptly unfriended him on Facebook. 

You would think that she would have learned her lesson, right, about accepting friend requests from exes?  Not so much.  Stay tuned for "Facebook: The Old Boyfriend Edition, Part II."