Thursday, May 14, 2009

bacon anyone?!


Okay - this picture is really small. It says "Baconnaise...Everything should taste like Bacon." I found it on the web the other day - it's an ad for Baconnaise. Have you heard of this stuff? It is mayonnaise that tastes like bacon. Holy Mackerel...I'm not sure what to think, although - it is supposedly better for you than mayo.

Anyways. The main reason I thought this was hilarious is because I came across it only minutes I was talking to my brother about our Mother's undying LOVE for bacon.

mmmmm.....bacon.......(I'm feeling a little Homer Simpson - ish again.)

Friday, April 24, 2009

check out my Etsy stuff

So - I just signed up to use this site where I can sell all of my art junk. You should check it out, and then tell all of your friends.

www.chococatania.etsy.com

So far, I mostly have artwork on there, but I'll be adding more stuff to the site, so please check it out often. Also, be sure to check out other artists. This is a really great site, and it has great deals on original artwork and other fun handmade things - so you won't find any of these things at your local wal-mart/target any time soon. Anyways. I hope you enjoy the site, and I hope you decide to support artists!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Lawn Furniture

Living here in AZ has been pretty amazing lately. As you know, I've posted a bit about this. However, this post is dedicated to the most hard-core lawn furniture I've ever seen.

First of all, you need to know, my father taught me to have an undying love of lawn furniture. I'm not sure how it all started, but I know that when he moved to Hingham, his consumption and display of lawn furniture went up exponentially. I think that it was done in some kind of rebellion to the money and uppity-ness that he was experiencing in his expensive, upper-middle-class New England Town. His form of rebellion: lawn furniture.

Anyway. I've never lived anywhere that needed any "rebellious" lawn furniture. In fact, usually I could find "lawn furniture" (IE - an old pick up truck on parking blocks) fairly frequently.

Now, I'm living in a place that makes Hingham look like a Trailer Park community. Here, most people drive cars worth more than double the average American Income. The small/poor houses are only $650,000 and 3300 square feet. It seems like everyone here is a rich person that moved here from New York to golf year round. Which brings me to the boldest display of Lawn Furniture I've ever witnessed.



Yes - you have this right. In the middle of town is a house that has taken out any form of shrubbery (well, except that little bush behind the horse), and has, instead, opted for two life-size horses - including a bucking stallion. (I'm wondering - where's the cowboy?...If I owned this house and this exceptional lawn furniture, then I'm sure I'd spend at least a quarter of my day sitting on the horse that has roped the mustang.)...Is anyone else excited by this? I mean, there are TWO LIFE SIZE HORSES IN THE FRONT YARD.

Lest anyone thinks that this is where the zealous lawn decorator ended, let me show you what is in the other half of his yard.



Do you see what that is - An eagle in mid-flight. Well, not just mid-flight, but it is catching prey.

I'm not sure that I could improve perfection, but I'm thinking that this home-owner might want to consider a life-size buffalo to top it all off.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Feeling Romantical

So, the other day I was making dinner, and instead of listening to NPR (boring...why do I do that so much???), I decided to listen to some music.

I wasn't sure what I was in the mood to listen to, but then I saw a good old classic: The Shins - Chutes too Narrow. I remembered how much I love the song "Kissing the Lipless."


Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones




Okay...so here's the romantical part. I started to reminisce about this song (which may have happened because I had a baby 3 weeks ago, and my hormones are causing me to do all sorts of crazy things).

So, I was reminiscing - remembering the time when I still lived in PA. It was winter (January), and my "cyber-crush" on Pete had just begun. Anyways. My car was all covered in salt from the roads, so I came home from work, picked up the girls, got some dinner from Burger King, and then spent an hour and a half waiting in line at the car wash: eating and listening to "Kissing the Lipless" over and over again.

It was one of those memories that is simultaneously happy and melancholy. (I was so frustrated at the time - the cyber-crush had just begun, and I was so upset that the whole situation seemed so impossible...). I realize now that I have no idea what the song "Kissing the Lipless" is even about, but the sound of it just seemed so perfect at the time. Especially the ending. That is my favorite part - the guitar at the end (at around 2:47)...oh man...

Oh, and the great part - the cyber-crush (obviously) ended up panning out (thank you Hasselhoff). And in April of that year, I was with Pete, in Phoenix, watching the Shins played this exact song.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Oh My Gosh

So, the other day, I wrote a blog about me and pregnancy. This is a follow-up...








I ran into my neighbor today. I was getting into the car, and he had me roll down my window for a little chat. I really didn't mind. The following exchange occured:

Yonkers Neighbor: How are you feeling?
me: Great, You?
Yonkers Neighbor: Um, your...Pete, Doug, Paul...(searching)
Me:Pete.
Yonkers Neighbor:Yeah, so...I talked with him the other day. He tells me that you're expecting, congratulations.
Me: Thanks.

The conversation was nice enough until I realized that he learned I was pregnant from PETE and not from the two times that he and I had met and chatted about our favored sports teams or where to get a good pizza.

I've got to have this baby soon, stop with the hoagies and pizzas, and start running again.

Monday, February 9, 2009

No More Donuts or Fetuses




So, lately the question of my life is, "Wow...When are you due? How are you feeling." And usually, I answer, "Like Homer Simpson."
I was pretty proud of this answer. I was especially proud when I was at Trader Joe's, and one of the employees said, "Hey mom, We'll open a line for you." Then he said, "Wait, you're expecting, right?"
I answered, "Are you talking about this?" (while patting/rubbing my belly) and I continued, "No...this is just beer and pretzels."
He laughed.


Anyways...I was feeling pretty witty and funny until something distressing happened. The other day a new guy from New York moved into our apartment complex. He got a good look at me and asked, "Where you from?" I answered, "Philly." and he then continued, "Do you know any good pizza places or delis around here?"


We had a rather lengthy conversation about food, and I started to notice the striking physical similarity we had - except for he had a mustache.


So - now I guess i'ts time to lay off the donuts.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Nosliw Theory

As many of you know, I have recently moved to Arizona. When I first moved here, I was living in *Asem. I came to Asem from Philadelphia, and with that move, I thought that I had left behind all of my memories of thugs, gangsters, and Mafia excitement, but I was so wrong.



For the most part Asem is made up of RV retirement communities - like the one pictured at the left. Asem, AZ is innocent enough. Well, that's what I thought for about three or four months until I started to figure out the truth.

Okay...Enough introduction and set-up. Here's the Nosliw Theory - When someone from the Mafia works with the FBI (or similar), usually, they set them up in the witness protection program. I've never really considered where these Sammy-the-Bull types end up. I guess I figured the government just sent them off to places like Indiana. Anyways. The truth is - When a Mafia informant receives witness protection, they are given the new name of *Nosliw, they are told that they are living in Asem, Arizona, and that they are Mormon.

I know that this sounds like a hard to bullet to take, but here's my proof.

When I moved to Asem, and I started attending church, I was noticing something very interesting. There were two families in the ward with the name *Nosliw, and there was something about both families that just caused me to pause and ponder, yet I could not make the connection.


First we have *Brother (We'll call him "Paulie") Nosliw. (Imagine a dude who looks a lot like Richard Castellano - on the right). Paulie is a hefty man. Every week, he wears sunglasses into church. He wears a white shirt, no tie, black sweater, and black suit - with black velcro-ish shoes. I'm not sure that anyone has ever seen him say more than "How ya doin'?" His wife wears a purple mumu every week. She has jet black hair that is about shoulder length and curled at the ends. She doesn't look like much, but she makes the best red sauce and meatballs in the entire world. Oh, and Brother Nosliw drives a cement truck.




We also have Brother Nosliw (let's call him "Tony"). He is the more debonair type. He is a shorter man, and he's quite thin. Every week he looks sharper than he did the week before. He wears three-piece, pin-stripe suits. And he's so charming. His wife - although, like him, getting on in years, is beautiful. What is the secret of these Italian women? You wonder (instinctively you know she's Italian even though her last name doesn't indicate her lineage as such). Tony's hair is always hair-sprayed and blown-dry to perfection. He has an emerald pinkie ring. He talks a lot, but not too much, He's funny, but not too charming, and he's wise, but not too academic.


At first, there seems to be little in common between the two, and I never really made the connection - until one afternoon in Choir practice. As you may have guessed, Brother "Tony" Nosliw attends choir. He has a beautiful baritone voice, and attends choir weekly. He's always punctual and keeps the chorister on task.


One week, the chorister was lamenting that we didn't have enough participation from the rest of the congregation. She urged those of us who were in attendance to please encourage others to come to choir, too. She even offered to make brownies. "Tell them I'll bribe them with treats!" she implored.


Without skipping a beat, Brother Nosliw injected, "No, Tell them that if they don't come, I'll break their knees." I turned around, excitedly, and he was just going through his choir papers and songs - nonchalantly.


That's when it all hit me, Paulie Nosliw: ex-mafia - the brawn - the muscle. Tony Nosliw: ex-mafia - the brain - the boss. That's when I realized they, after informing the FBI of a competing family, were told, "Ok...We'll protect you - you're moving to Asem, AZ, your new names are Paul and Anita (or Anthony and Carmela) Nosliw, and you're Mormon. That's when I realized: Arizona is what happens to the rats.


Someone joked, "Yeah, tell them the Mormon Mafia will get them if they don't come." He just said, "We gonna start singing now, or what?"


It was probably the best day of my life.



*Names and locations have been changed to protect the innocent.