Tag Archives: humor

So Wrong, It’s Right.

So things in hell are going well, thanks for asking. Selling your house For Sale By Owner during the holidays is super fun and festive.

I especially like it when the tree topper falls off and more lights go out every five g.d. seconds.

2013-tree-lights-out

Ah, Scrooge it. It’s only two days ’til Christmas.

Speaking of tree toppers… Every year, my mom, Babs, decorates a beautiful, live tree and places her beloved star on top.

Not a star star, of course. Don’t be ridiculous.

GOGP_Edward_tree

Edward Cullen.

GOGP_JustinB_Tree

Justin Bieber.

GOGP_Chipmunk_Tree

My blog mascot, a chipmunk (featuring my former blog name).

Babs likes to stay current, as you can see, and was hemming and hawing over this year’s “star.”

“I just don’t know,” she sighed.

“Miley,” my dad replied, turning back to his New York Times and coffee.

Yes. The man who seemingly only put up with this tradition out of a desire to pick his battles, proved himself the fourth wise man of Christmas 2013.

2013-Babs-tree-Miley

2013-Babs-tree-Miley-CU

Well done, Mom & Pop. Well done.

Merry Christmas, Chipmunks!

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I Did It All For The Stickers

Oh, hi blog, it’s me, Jules. You probably didn’t recognize me because I’VE LOST MY F%$&%@ MIND.

Remind me never to buy real estate again. In fact, remind me to never buy anything again, ever. Okay, maybe toothbrushes. Those get really gross after a while.

Trying to sell your house is like having to, every day for, possibly, ever, tell a 6-year-old Santa Claus doesn’t exist. You don’t know how bad it’s going to be, but you know it’s going to be bad.

Especially when you’ve lost your job and are convinced you can do everything yourself.

Case in point: Buying this year’s Christmas tree became a rushed, haggard ‘staging’ opportunity, as opposed to a magical, fragrant event wherein I blast John Denver and the Muppets and drink egg nog rum.

Christmas-tree-2013

Ever try to chop down a tree with a rusty saw and an eye that tells you 10 feet is 7 feet?

Case in point part deux: In the past month, I’ve learned things about my vacuum that, frankly, I think I was better off not knowing.

Three years together, vacuum, and NOW you tell me?

Three years together, vacuum, and NOW you tell me?

In fact, I was so desperate to get out of cleaning the downstairs coat closet, when Babs (my mom) mentioned needing help at the office yesterday, I gleefully volunteered. She works for an allergist, and while I was sure I’d be of no use whatsoever, she was more than willing to perch me in the front window for the day.

Questions I Was Not Able to Answer

  • Can I come in for a flu shot?
  • Can you talk to my primary care doctor about sending over my blood work?
  • What is your fax number?
  • Can I still have peanut and sesame oil?

Question(s) I WAS able to Answer

  • Can my child have a sticker?
Helping-Babs-for-Stickers

And may I recommend My Little Pony?

How often do you replace your toothbrush? When did you find out Santa Claus wasn’t real? Would you like a sticker?

How To Peel An Apple Like A Boss By Babs

apple-peel

Whoamygod. Today is [my mom] Babs’ birthday!

And because Babs is the Mommasita Extraordinaire, she’s giving YOU a gift instead.

Prepare to be amazed. Again.

Any burning questions for Babs? Did your parents perform any wizardry when you were growing up? 

P.S. – You still have one more week to enter my Custom Jack-o-Lantern Giveaway Contest! It’s so easy and fun you’ll think you did something both easy and fun!

Dear Aunt and Uncle: You Didn’t Like That Wall Anyway, Right?

There’s something you should know about me.

I mean, just something I want to warn you about, should we ever vacation together.

I like to do things.

Come back! I like to do things, too!

Come back! I like to do things, too!

I’m not the Energizer bunny or anything, but to me, going on trips is more synonymous with adventure than relaxation. If you take me to the beach, I’m going to try to book one of those wave runner or zip lining excursions. If you take me to the city, I’m going to look up event calendars and comedy clubs.

And if you take me out to dinner after all of this doing of things, I’m going to drink. A lot.

I know everyone says they have great taste and a sense of humor, but seriously. My taste is phenomenal.

I know everyone says they have great taste and a sense of humor, but seriously. My taste is phenomenal.

And after I drink a lot, I might look around and think, “That wall should be blue. I mean, like a really classy, Nautica-looking navy blue.”

And before you know it, I’ll be painting your vacation home.

This is precisely what happened when first Hub, Peppermeister, and I, stayed in my aunt and uncle’s summer house in Long Island last week.

“Are you sure you want to PAINT on your vacation?” Peppermeister asked.

“It’ll be done before you wake up.”

“I don’t know why I asked.”

BEFORE

LongIsland-wall-BEFORE

AFTER

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Booya.

I may have made a few other adjustments…

...bought candles and a of couple K's, painting one to match the new wall...

…Bought candles and a of couple K’s (my aunt and uncle’s names both start with K), painting one to match the new wall…

...and turned some of their trivets into a cool coffee table centerpiece. Oh and let's not forget the pillows, table runner and flowers! TA DA!

…turned some of their trivets into a cool coffee table centerpiece. Oh and let’s not forget the new pillows, table runner and flowers…

...and swapped the gray curtains with a spare bedroom's bright, cheery, gold curtains. TA DA!

…and swapped the gray curtains with a spare bedroom’s bright, cheery, gold curtains. TA DA!

So what do my aunt and uncle think of my impromptu makeover?

Good question.

I haven’t heard from them in days.

What kind of vacationer are you? Less is more or go-go-go? (For more of my Long Island adventures, check out how I almost died!)

Disclaimer: Though my aunt and uncle own it now, this is an old family home, and I checked with my parents before painting. It’s not as funny with the disclaimer, is it? I should’ve just let you think I was a presumptuous asshat. Dammit.

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My Boat Capsized and All I Got Was This Tiny T-Shirt

“I can’t wait to rent a boat in Long Island!” my first husband, Peppermeister, said several times before we headed east last week.

Once again, my aunt and uncle were generously letting us stay in their vacation home for our anniversary. We had fond memories of relaxing bay side, playing mini golf and binge drinking waterfront dining.

The house was just as we’d left it. (BUT NOT FOR LONG! STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO OF MY VACATION ADVENTURES!)

“Let’s scope out this place, The Station,” Peppermeister said. “They serve food and rent boats.”

More importantly, they serve Tröegs on tap.

More importantly, they serve Tröegs on tap.

While recreating one of the menu photos…

LongIsland-TheStation-photo-reenactment

…we noticed an entertaining boat name:

LongIsland-TheStation-Butthead

I swear on snot rockets and turd buckets, this detail becomes important later.

“Do you think that’s the boat they rent?” I asked.

“Nah, that one’s too nice,” Peppermeister replied. “They probably rent those.”

He pointed to the glorified row boats on either side of Butthead. I quickly let go of my mai tai drinking, bow bathing fantasies.

“We’ll come back on Monday – the weather’s supposed to be beautiful.”

And the weather finally WAS beautiful, on Wednesday. The young man preparing our boat barely put down his sandwich to attach the motor. Knowing nothing about boats, I brushed off my first thought: “Is that from a lawn mower?”

At 10:15am, we were finally ready to hit the open seas Shinnecock Bay.

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In between bites, our boat hand, who shall henceforth be referred to as “Boris,” explained where to fish for fluke, and gave us a map with the emergency phone numbers on it.

What's that? This paper looks like it got wet? Huh. Spoiler alert.

What’s that? This paper looks like it got wet? Huh. Spoiler alert!

We didn’t even make it out of the marina before the motor stalled and we drifted into sand. We shoved ourselves off with our one sturdy oar, and Peppermeister got us going again.

The weather was so flawless, I paid little mind to the hiccup.

Wheeee! We must be going 2.3 knots, by now!

Wheeee! We must be going 2.3 knots by now! Surely we’ll never need those life jackets!

We cruised steadily west while Peppermeister grabbed a beer and we tried to pick out our own marina.

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Hey, did you leave the porch light on?

About 45 minutes into our cruise, the motor cut out again.

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When it happened for the third time, we Peppermeister spent 20 minutes trying to start it.

“I’m just going to call the guy to come get us. This is a waste of time.” He fished out his cell phone from the Ziploc bag in his backpack.

Here’s a summary of how that went down:

“Landmarks? …Yes, there are buildings nearby! THERE ARE HOUSES EVERYWHERE!”

“We’re IN THE DUNES. DRIVE by the DUNES.”

“WE’RE DUE SOUTH OF TIANA BAY! DUE SOUTH! We’re IN the DUNES on the OTHER SIDE of the BAY. We’ve DRIFTED SINCE WE HAVE NO ANCHOR AND ONE OAR!”

“Like I said, we’re to the LEFT OF THE BRIDGE. DUE SOUTH OF TIANA BAY. We’re THE ONLY BOAT HERE.”

I tried to help, too.

LongIsland-boat-fail-SOS

One hour and five phone calls later, Boris arrived in none other than…

Butthead!

LongIsland-boat-Butthead-to-the-rescue

He, of course, managed to get our motor going, and told us to follow him back. The motor stalled a minute later, and it took him three minutes to notice we weren’t following. He circled back to tow us.

He tangled up his lines in his motor, and then attached one line to the front of our boat.

“He’s doing it wrong,” Peppermeister muttered. “You’re supposed to tow with two lines.”

We lurched forward, and Boris started swerving Butthead left to right, right to left, while we tipped from side to side in our boat.

LongIsland-boat-towing

I should probably say something.

I leaned forward and backward in the opposite direction of his swerving, trying to keep the boat level.

About halfway to the marina, the water grew increasingly choppy, as did Boris’s driving, and gallons of water sloshed into our boat. We tried bailing it out with our one bucket, a bleach bottle with the bottom cut out.

Peppermeister whistled loudly. Boris, who’d never once looked back to check on us, raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Every time you turn, more water comes in! We’ve been trying to empty it this whole time!” Peppermeister shouted. “Will this boat sink?”

“No,” he replied, and kept driving, staring straight ahead.

Titanic-orchestraThe water rushed past our calves, almost as high as the seats.

Peppermeister whistled again and Boris stood there gawking.

Everything next happened in slow motion.

Peppermeister yelled, “You need to get off!”

With my brain still saying, “This boat’s not actually SINKING,” I grabbed our precious cargo -the backpack- and held it above my head. Suddenly, half the boat was under water. Good call on the Ziploc bags. As it capsized, my left leg got pinned beneath, allowing me to appreciate its sturdiness. Wow. No. I kicked off my flip-flops and paddled away, shouting,

“Here! The backpack! Get it on Butthead! Get it on Butthead!”

Because I’d be DAMNED if I was losing my cell phone and car keys over this little snafu.

Peppermeister threw the backpack at Boris, who let it hit his chest and slide to the floor. I swam for a second or two, watching the contents of the boat drift south (due south! Of Tiana Bay! Towards the dunes! In case you were wondering).

“Don’t worry about the boat! Don’t worry about it! Leave the stuff!” Boris called, finally looking rattled.

“Get a life jacket!” Peppermeister cried, and I grabbed the only one still within reach, passing it to him, confused.

Ooh, the water feels nice. It’s not as hard to swim in a denim jacket as I thought it would be. Bet I could swim back pretty fast. Great exercise.

“Do you need it? Put it on!” Peppermeister said frantically.

I took one look at his face and his next statement answered my unspoken question, “I’m freakin’ out a little.”

“It’s fine,” I replied. “It’s fine. We’re in a bay. You know how to swim.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “You get on first.”

Shouldn’t we get the stuff?

“Don’t worry about the stuff!” Boris called again.

“Go! Use our boat!” Peppermeister urged.

Our overturned boat was creating, I realized, a handy step up onto Butthead. Boris grabbed my arm firmly, “I got you, I got you.”

Man, I always thought that would be impossible, I thought as I tumbled onboard.

Once Peppermeister and I were safely seated, we began our 45-minute slog back to the marina. I didn’t realize why it took so long until much later.

Boris was towing our boat.

Upside down.

LongIsland-boat-fail-overturned-boat

The Station owner was waiting for us on the dock when we returned.

“A ‘small’ problem?” he asked, glancing between Boris and his sodden passengers.

Boris stared at the ground while Peppermeister and I disembarked. Moments later, he handed us a full refund and two t-shirts.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he said.

He walked away, shoulders slumped, and I looked at Peppermeister.

“That. Was. AWESOME.”

LongIsland-TheStation-tshirts

Have you ever had any vacation mishaps?

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Peppermeister Roulette is LIVE! Who Won?

Get ready, Chipmunks.

The epic battle is ON.

Peppermeister-Roulette-2013

Earlier this month, Rachel’s Table and my First Husband, Peppermeister, went head to head to see who could handle his hottest homegrown peppers.

Peppermeister-roulette-picking-peppers-2

All business as they pick their poison.

Click here to see bloggers in pain the battle and help decide who won!

P.S. – If picking a winner’s too tough, feel free to compliment my multi-camera editing skillz instead.

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It Wouldn’t Be A Proper Vacation Without…

What day is it again? Where am I? Who are you? (Just kidding – I’ll never let go, Chipmunks.)

I’ve been living it up vacation style, and just wanted to pop in to let you know that both my liver and I are still alive and kicking.

How do I know I’m doin’ this time off thing right?

For starters, leisurely breakfasts have consisted of no fewer than 3 of the following: Croissants, coffee, champagne, cheese, fresh fruit, and/or BACON.

breakfast

Breakfast-2

I’ve stopped to smell the roses (or whatever the hell these are) on my morning walks.

early-morning-walk-flowers-2013 early-am-walk-shadow-2013There’s been double rainbow ogling.

ferry-rainbow-2013

Stops at the bank when I’ve run out of singles for the strip club.

Jules-single-dollars

Or, you know, the local farm stand.

Jules-farm-stand-2013

I’ve loaded up on all the fresh seafood I can get my claws on.

whole-lobstah-2013 lobstah-salad-2013I’ve done my new Fitbit (pedometer) proud and hit the trails with Uncle Jesse. (Note: Your own vacation success should not ride on this particular activity.)

highlands-hike-sweaty-2013 UncleJesse-highlands-hike-2013

I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen, making things like homemade mid-east feasts.

homemade-mideast-feast-2013

I can still taste the garlic.

And of course, there’s been booze. Lots and lots of booze.

beer-2013

But the real reason I know I’m on vacation? I’ve only turned on my computer once.

The very best part? It’s not over yet! Today First Hub, Peppermeister, and I celebrate our 5th anniversary, and have another week of this to look forward to:

Long-Island-sunset-2012

Ed-Jules-Long-Island-smooch-2012

But just so ya know, it’s not all smooches and sunsets. We like to exchange meaningful gifts, too.

A wolf t-shirt to go with his BB guns.

A cutting-edge wolf t-shirt to go with his BB guns. You’re welcome, Peppermeister.

And his gift to me: Clever methods for stashing booze.

And his gift to me: Clever methods for stashing booze.

Stay tuned next week for the much-anticipated Peppermeister Roulette, where Rachel’s Table and Peppermeister go head to head to see who can handle his hottest homegrown peppers.

Peppermeister-Roulette-2013

What does vacation success look like to you? It wouldn’t be a vacation without _____?

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Gone Drinkin’ (Again)

Drinking-Champagne

It’s that time of year again, Snookums.

When I can’t come up with a damn thing to write about.

Time for a very short blogging hiatus. Now, now. Dry your wee little chipmunk tears. I’ll be back next week!

My money's on Rache.

My money’s on Rache.

Psst: This Friday at the Go Jules Go compound, it’s Peppermeister (Hub #1) vs. Rachel’s Table. That’s right. Those two are finally going head to head in a Spicy Pepper-Off to see who can handle the hottest homegrowns! I’ll have plenty to report next week.

If you want a delicious sampling of what’s in store, check out Rache’s fantastic “Peppermeister Roulette” videos (video one and video two)!

Don’t have too much fun without me. I love you.

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Help! Save The Byronic Birthday Man!

A year and a half ago, I cheekily called a favorite blogger, The Byronic Man, my BFF.

We should all take a moment to reflect on how far my PowerPoint skills have come since this.

We should all pause to reflect on how far my PowerPoint skills have come since this.

I thought it was hilarious. To call a blogging acquaintance -whose real name I’d only learned a month earlier- my Best Friend Forever?

Ha!

Be careful what you wish for, Chipmunks. Since then, The Byronic Man has become not only one of my closest friends, but the people’s choice for Third Husband.

Happy birthday, emoticon-glasses. And, ah, sorry about all of this:

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So what are you waiting for? Quick! Leave links to your favorite meme images and/or birthday well wishes in the comments section below, before we find The Byronic Man opening for Carrot Top!

If you have any trouble posting links in the comments section, feel free to email me your images and I’ll do it for you! Julie.Davidoski@yahoo.com.

To see the first installment of Drunk Girl and Byronic Man, click here.

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GIVEAWAY: Won’t You Be My Codependent Independence Day Friend?

Oh blogging.

How I love you.

Even when your cursor blinks blankly and your Stats page laughs in my face, I come crawling back for more.

Yes. You, much like sweet, sweet, blog giveaway swag, always manage to turn my frowns upside-down.

Speaking of! I’ve been saving a couple of giveaway items for a rainy day, and, well:

I think this qualifies.

I think this qualifies.

So let’s get down to it, shall we?

The Prize

artists-way-giveaway

Clearly I have no use for this book. Thanks, New Jersey weather.

1) Finding Water (part of one of my favorite series, The Artist’s Way) by Julia Cameron.

2) Amazing Fred pens, clever enough to trick anyone into thinking you frequent places like Verdant Fields Nudist Camp or Stuffed With Love Taxidermy.

The Rules

Simply leave a comment describing your unreasonable attachment to any person, pet, place or object. Who or what controls you? That’s right. This Independence Day, we’re celebrating codependency! As usual, I’ll oh-so-subjectively pick a winner based on humor and originality.

If you have any trouble leaving a comment below, feel free to email me: Julie.Davidoski@yahoo.com.

The Deadline

Monday, July 8, 2013, midnight EST. Winner announced Thursday, July 11, 2013, 6am EST.

Can’t wait to read your entries, Chipmunks! Now if you’ll excuse me. Vodka dependency calls.

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