Tag Archives: humor

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?


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:

Slide01 Slide02 Slide03 Slide04 Slide05
























Slide30 Slide31













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.


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


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.


Scenes From A Swimless Summer

Having a pool sounds great, doesn’t it? Especially this time of year, when it’s nearing 90-degrees Fahrenheit (and 1,000% humidity) in New Jersey.


Hub #1, Peppermeister, and I were thrilled when we purchased our first home in 2010 – there was an in-ground pool in the backyard! We knew nothing about pools, and weren’t sure what lay beneath the forest green tarp, but hoped it was salvageable. We scraped together our last hopes, dreams, blood, sweat and pennies to open the pool that summer. We assumed things would get easier after that.

Here’s a brief recount of the last month.



JULES: We need to do all of the shrubbery trimming BEFORE we take off the pool cover this year.




JULES: I just dumped another $100 of shock in, and emptied the vacuum 12 times, but it’s not going to get clean if we can’t keep the filter running.

PEPPERMEISTER: I’ll replace the <blah blah whosiwhatsit widget gauge thingamajig blah blah>. For the third time.



PEPPERMEISTER: Filter still not working. I called Pool Company #1.



PEPPERMEISTER: Did Pool Company #2 come? You made sure to ask them what they did this time, right?

JULES: Yes, they think we need to replace the handle thingy? And you need to call Hector.




PEPPERMEISTER: So it turns out all of those problems with the filter were because…we needed a new filter.




JULES: I got the backwash to work, but can’t get the filter back on.

PEPPERMEISTER: Where did you put the DE powder?

JULES: In the skimmer basket by the pump.

PEPPERMEISTER: That’s not where it’s supposed to go.

JULES: But I watched three YouTube videos! THREE!

PEPPERMEISTER (dialing Pool Company #2): Yeah… uh-huh…okay… yeah… we’ll try that. (adjusts black knobby thing by one of the pipes) Well, now it’s working. But clearly it wasn’t a problem with the filter.

JULES: You’ll have to show me how to do that.




CLERK: Can I help you?

JULES: Yes… I need alkaline.

CLERK: How low is it?

JULES: Umm… 6.8?

CLERK: That would be your PH, not your alkaline.

JULES: Oh right, right, of course! The alkaline is like a greenish-yellow on the test strip. Maybe more like a baby puke.

CLERK: How many gallons is your pool?

JULES: Does 50,000 sound like WAY too much?

CLERK: Well just how big is your pool?

JULES: Pool-sized?

CLERK: You probably have 20,000. You’re going to need to balance the alkalinity first, then the pH. You’ll need 1 lb of this for every 10,000 gallons.

JULES (to self): Well played, math and science. Well played.

CLERK: You’re gonna wanna add half this bag, then wait an hour, then the other half, wait an hour. Then add half of the second bag, wait an hour, then the other half, wait an hour. Keep the filter running the whole time. Tomorrow morning, test the water, then add half of this pH.  So you won’t be swimming today.




JULES: I tested the water. The alkaline is baby puke color again.

PEPPERMEISTER: I think I’m done with the pool.


What are your summer peeves and/or pay-offs?


“I Do”-Wop

When my BFF, Jenn, asked how things were going in Plural Marriage-ville, she was surprised by my answer.

Here’s a taste of why.
























Have you ever been in a band, or wish you had been? Any groupies out there?

P.S. – Special thanks to Jenn, and to those of you who suggested The Hubs form a band. Less special thanks to Hubs 1 through 3. Now cut that sh*t out.


6 Things You Need To Know Before Taking Up Hiking

Alternate titles: R.I.P. Big Toenail; I Can’t Feel My Butt; Who Needs Heel Skin, Anyway?

I logged 17 miles in hiking this weekend, Chipmunks. (And I saw you! Yes. I saw my first chipmunk since December!)

Local hiking splendor.

Local hiking splendor.

You’re probably wondering who I am and what I’ve done to Jules. I have a confession. When I’m not drinking and Googling bacon recipes, I like to go outside and get my sweat nature on. I can’t stand running, and cyclists make me think devil thoughts, but give me a dirt path, some shady trees and a mountain view payoff, and I’m there faster than you can say, “Does this trail mix have chocolate chips? Because that’s really the only kind worth buying.”

Mt. Monadnock, 2005.

Mt. Monadnock, 2005.

It’s been a while since I’ve hit the hardcore trails , but in order to combat the three B’s (boredom, bumming and broke-itude) that have slammed me lately, I decided to get my Timberland mojo back. I’ve been tackling the relatively tame local trails over the past couple of months, and had planned on spending the summer working up to trails like the steep ‘Stairway to Heaven’ in northern New Jersey, with the ultimate goal of hitting Mt. Monadnock in New Hampshire this fall.


The stubborn Taurus in me had other plans. “Did the 6+ mile loop again today,” I told my first husband, Peppermeister, on Saturday. “Doing 10 tomorrow.”


Then I picked this trail:

Hike-2-map Hike-3-description

Then I drove an hour there. I was ready and rarin’ to go.

Hike-4-stache-potty Hike-5-Tammany-trailhead

6 Things You Need to Know Before Taking Up Hiking

1. Just because a sign seems to promise bears, this does not mean you’ll finally carry out that long awaited convo with the Shakespearean meme bear.



2. Hiking Guide Books ‘under’ embellish.


3. By mile 7, you will not look like someone from an LL Bean catalog. Even though everyone else you encounter, inevitably, won’t have broken a sweat.

Hike-8-exhausted Hike-9-handsome-Uncle-Jesse

4. In New Jersey, you can run, but you can’t hide. From cicadas.


5. Some Most times, you’ll see some cool ass shiz.




6. You will have every right to come home and do nothing but act superior, drink champagne and eat all of it. Just… all of it.


Is there a sport / activity you think is borderline insane, but you love it anyway? Or one that, no matter what, you’d never be caught dead doing?


Still Blonde Over Here.

I thought glasses made you look smarter...

I thought glasses made you look smarter…

I’ve never really understood dumb blonde jokes.

Hey! Why are you laughing?

Okay, fine. There was that time I played a trivia game with friends and thought Interpol was only the name of a band, not the International Criminal Police Organization.

Oh, Julie? You've heard of it?

Oh, Julie? You’ve heard of it?

And that time I got Joshua Jackson’s autograph and told him how to spell Julie.

And that time I brought a baby shower gift to a wedding shower.

Who wouldn't hire me?

Who wouldn’t hire me?

And maybe something similar happened this week.

You might recall I recently started a new position at my company (Big Pharma, Inc.), developing training. I’m pretty sure my dog, Uncle Jesse, got me the job – he was part of the Sudoku lesson I had to put together during the intense interview process.

My new group is creative, fun and hilarious. I’m finally among colleagues who appreciate my memes!


This team of 13 celebrates everything. On my first day in the new office, it was No Diet Monday, and my manager brought cheesecake for breakfast. She decorated my new cubicle, too. “I think I’m gonna like it here,” I thought.

For the past two weeks, they’ve been trying to plan a surprise birthday party for two of the women in the group. A difficult task, since people work from home a lot.

The first Monday, I made cookies. The birthday girls didn’t show. This Monday, I made tortilla roll-ups, and one woman didn’t show.cubicle-welcome

“Well, as long as Laura comes in, we’ll still have the party,” everyone kept saying.

Later that morning, I popped my head next door to say hi to my cool, spirited cubicle neighbor. We’d only spoken a couple of times, but had bonded right away.

“Hi! Have you ever seen Finding Nemo?” she had blurted when she’d first shook my hand.

I had blinked back my surprise and laughed, dying to know where this conversation would go. She had had a point, eventually.

That Monday morning, I repeated the refrain of the day, “As long as Laura shows up, we’re still having the birthday party!”

She smiled and said, “Okay!” and we started talking about wine. Because of course.

At noon, we all hid in a nearby conference room and set up the food. In walked my cubicle neighbor, and everyone clapped and sang “Happy Birthday.”

I sang along merrily.

“Do you know what you said to me this morning?” the birthday girl asked loudly. I was sure she was going to regale the group with some amusing tidbit I’d dropped, letting all of my new coworkers see how charming and funny I could be, even unawares.

“No,” I replied, grinning.

“You said, ‘As long as Laura shows up, we’ll still have the party’! I thought you didn’t know who I was!”

Yes. That’s right. I told Laura we’d still have the party as long as Laura showed up. Then I sang “Happy Birthday” to Laura, forgetting I’d talked to Laura at all.


I distracted my colleagues with stories of Uncle Jesse and the beautiful chickens down the road. Later that day, Laura sent a thank you e-mail to everyone. I replied with this:

Dear Whoever You Are:



Uncle Jesse’s caretaker

Any embarrassing work stories to share? Blonde moments?


Dogs Are Better Than Babies. So Trade Yours, Don.

Today things get ugly. As ugly as your babies. I kid, I kid.

Grab your boxing gloves, Chipmunks, because Don, of don of all trades, and I are going head-to-head over:

Dogs vs. Babies


We each get up to ten points to make our case. Don may be a father, lawyer and cop, but totally lets me boss him around little does this man-of-allegedly-every-occupation know, I have experience in blog debates. Many moons ago, Third Husband proposed we discuss the merits (or lack thereof) of Glee, and I think we can all agree that after taking a slushie to the face, I emerged the clear victor.

Sweet, sweet, cherry-flavored victory.

Sweet, sweet, cherry-flavored victory.

I’m a little scared to read Don’s opposing argument, though. Not because I’m worried about valid points, god no, but because he’s a shamelessly verbose, terrible person with zero filter; there’s no telling where he’ll take this. He’s already cursed and posted fake sonogram pictures on my Facebook wall, sending both my mother and mother-in-law into a frenzy:

Don's caption? "Awesome...SOOOOOO excited for you guys!!"

Don’s caption? “Awesome…SOOOOOO excited for you guys!!”

So, Don. As much as I like to play dirty, get your mind out of the gutter and grab the leash (that one’s just killing you, isn’t it?). By the time you’re through reading this, you’ll be ready to trade your ten thousand sticky offspring for a downy-soft ‘doodle.

Why Dogs Doodles Are Better Than Babies

1. They sleep a lot.

Like, a lot a lot. Soooo much.

Like, a lot a lot. Soooo much.

2. They’re not smart enough for college (can you spell S-A-V-I-N-G-S?).


3. They don’t bug you when you’re hungover sick.

I'll be here. If you need me. Remote's by your pillow.

I’ll be here. If you need me. Remote’s by your pillow.

4. They understand Full House quotes at 10 weeks old.

5. You get to pick the cartoons / car music.

None of this creepy sh*t.

None of this creepy sh*t.

6. No back talk.

Though they may judge you with their incredibly soulful eyes.

Just incredibly telling soulful gazes.

7. Chick / Hunk magnet.

We are a HUGE hit with the neighborhood AARF AARP, crowd.

HUGE hit with the neighborhood AARF, I mean, AARP crowd.

8. As long as you feed them regularly, they don’t judge your alcohol dependency.

Okay maybe a little.

I think he’s just hungry.

9. You get to pick their halloween costumes. Indefinitely.

Hakuna matata, dog owners. DYFS is just for humans.

Hakuna matata, dog owners. DYFS is just for humans.

10. You don’t have to deal with other dogs’ parents if you don’t want to.

Although everyone knows 'dog people' are a superior breed.

Although everyone knows ‘dog people’ are a superior breed.

Note how I kept this nice and short, for your reading pleasure. Because I care about you, and respect your time, Debate Decision-makers. Unlike some people.

I look forward to hearing how right I am. (In case you missed it, here’s the link to Don’s inferior opposing argument.)

Did I miss any reasons why dogs are better than rug rats?


The First and Last Thing You Should Do Today

I am tickled right down to my wee little paws today, Chipmunks.

I’m the Featured Blogger over at She’s A Maineiac!


Things You Will Experience If You Read My ‘Firsts and Lasts’ Interview on She’s A Maineiac

  • Me in costume
  • An Uncle Jesse jack-o-lantern
  • A positive example of molestation
  • An overwhelming sense of self-worth at my expense mirth

So what are you waiting for?! Click here to check it out!

P.S. – You look soooooooooo cute today. Did you do something different with your stripes?


THIS is America’s Funniest Home Video.

Several years ago, there was a brief period of time when Peppermeister (Husband Numero Uno) and I would get sloshed and watch America’s Funniest Home Video reruns. In our defense, we were kids during its pre-YouTube heyday, and Bob Saget’s goofy mug and painfully corny jokes still make us feel warm and fuzzy.

For years -YEARS- following this, we’ve been quoting one particular video that we thought might, in fact, be: America’s FUNNIEST Home Video.

We were never able to find the clip.

Until now.

I love you, Peppermeister.

ENJOY, Chipmunks! (I’ve built this up way too much, haven’t I?)

Do you have any favorite viral (or should-be-viral) videos?

Houston, We Have So Many Problems: A Very Texas Wedding

Two months ago, my best friend, Jenn, said, “Everyone is going to [our friend] Cami’s wedding in Houston in April, but I don’t know if I can do it. I hate flying, and I don’t want to leave the dog, and [my husband] Pete won’t dance with me.”

Jenn and I like to pretend this is from our wedding. To each other.

Jenn and Jules (pic from our Secret Wedding)

I took a quick inventory of my life: I hadn’t flown anywhere in four years. My future career was uncertain. I was restless as hell. I liked to dance.

“I’ll go with you,” I blurted. After all, I knew the bride and everyone going.

Jenn’s face lit up, and within the hour, she’d booked our flight. This past Friday morning, I rose at 4:45 and picked up Jenn.

“You don’t trust me to get to your parents’ house on time [since your mom is bringing us to the airport]?” she asked.

“Absolutely not. Don’t argue with me,” I replied, recalling the previous weekend, when Jenn was supposed to come over for lunch, and slept until 1pm.

To Jenn’s credit, she was all ready to go when I arrived, and in a stroke of genius, had booked us aisle seats across from each other. We strained our necks, but got the ab workout of a lifetime, each trying to out-joke the other during the 3 1/2-hour flight.

“You were those people?” our friend Mary later asked.

Yes. Yes, we were.

“We’re just a couple of classy broads,” Jenn said, stowing her ancient cell phone before take-off.

“You put the ass in class,” I replied affectionately.

“I just don’t understand people who have no sense of humor,” I said some time later. “My only problem is I think everything is funny.”

“Your only problem?” Jenn fired back.

Jenn wound up rebooking our hotel so we could stay where Cami (the bride) had scheduled a shuttle to the wedding venue, never mind that Jenn still had to pay for the first hotel because it was nonrefundable.

“We don’t know anything about a shuttle to the wedding,” the front desk told us when we arrived.

Jenn called Cami and found out that the shuttle “never materialized.”


We decided to worry about our ride later. We still had 3 hours to spare, and we were on a mission: hair dye (for Jenn) and vodka (for me both of us).

Gettin' 'er done at Walgreens.

Gettin’ ‘er done at Walgreens.

“There’s a Walgreens and a liquor store within walking distance – 2 blocks,” the front desk assured us.

We found the Walgreens, but walked at least a mile, stopping people to ask where the liquor store was. Our boots were not made for “walking distance” in Texas, but the weather was beautiful.

“I just saw a cop in a cowboy hat, but I’m still starting to think we belong in Houston,” I told Jenn. “We’ve already gotten hit on by three different men.”

“And you don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that we’re asking for liquor at 2 o’clock in the afternoon on a work day?” she replied.

"Now hold it right there, young whippersnapper, you're in vi-o-lation of Code 147: The Texas Ten Gallon. Where on god's green earth is your hat?"

“Now hold it right there, young whippersnapper, you’re in vi-o-lation of Code 147: The Texas Ten Gallon. Where on god’s green earth is your hat?”

By the time we got back to the hotel, we had little time to pre-game. Our friends, who were staying in a different hotel and had rented a car, generously offered to pick us up. Now we had even less time to get ready.

Hang on! Almost ready!

Hang on! Almost ready!

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was Cami and her soon-to-be-husband. She was holding an iPod.

“I just need you to dock this before the wedding, and play the ‘Processional’ playlist,” she told Jenn.

“O-okay…” Jenn replied, wet hair dripping on ivory shoulders.

“Then you play the ‘Ceremony’ playlist, then the ‘Recessional’ playlist.”

Jenn’s eyes widened, but she just nodded, paying close attention.

“And then the ‘Reception’ playlist,” Cami said, clicking through each one on the little silver rectangle in her hand. “I tried to make it as idiot-proof as possible.”

As soon as they left, we raced to finish getting ready. When our friends picked us up, they were nervous about being late, but in good spirits.

“[Our other friend] Dave just found out he’s the Maid of Honor!” they giggled.

“I just found out I’m the f*cking DJ!” Jenn retorted.

We arrived at the wedding venue early, as luck would have it. It was a Greek restaurant, obviously.

Because when I think Houston, I think...baklava.

Because when I think Houston, I think…baklava.

The wedding coordinator frantically informed us that she was technologically challenged, and pointed to a CD player with no CDs.

“That’s not going to work with this,” Jenn replied, holding the iPod.

“Well we just got a new TV, maybe we can put music on that?” the wedding coordinator said breathlessly, her voice a fascinating mix of Southern and Greek accents.

When I attempted to turn on the TV, it was immediately apparent that the cable wasn’t hooked up. “Maybe if you point the remote here,” the wedding coordinator said, gesturing towards the closet where the CD player sat. I knew I’d never, ever come up with an appropriate response, so I said nothing and glanced back to see if the bar was open yet.

Here’s what happened when we asked the wedding coordinator to take our picture at the end of the night:

We found out one of Cami’s friends was coming by with the iPod speaker and tried to relax, even though the wedding was in mere minutes.

Or it should have been.


The wedding party was two hours late. No reason. Texas time, I guess. My inner Project Manager hyperventilated into a brown paper bag, while my alter ego, Drunk Girl, just… well, you know.

In case you were wondering – the iPod speaker still hadn’t arrived.

“Can you tell everyone to hum the wedding march?” the blushing bride asked Jenn, just before the ceremony started.

"Yee-haw! I am worth the wait, cowboy!"

“Yee-haw! I am worth the wait, cowboy!”

I should probably stop there.

After all that, did we have fun? You be the judge:

“My mom just had to pay a $1,300 overage on the bar bill,” said Cami at the end of the night.

And they lived drunkenly happily ever after.

And they lived drunkenly happily ever after.

P.S. – The speaker finally arrived:


Do you have any wedding snafu stories?