Adventures in Freelance Insanity

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E-mail and Fluffernutters

Okay, I know Ive mentioned that I am internet-challanged, so today I looked to see if maybe there was a solution to this "My email to you keeps coming back to me" that everyone is complaining about. Luckily, diaryland is set up for momos like me and when I clicked on "email" there were 2 buttons "on" and "Off" - the Off button was clicked, so I clicked "On". I hoping that will solve the problem.
In my defense (and I know I really need one), it WAS working at some point and I never TOUCHED IT (you cant prove a thing) so maybe it's something I have to keep doing. Or something.
But thanks to everyone who let me know it wasnt working. I actually tried to fix it - and succeeded (hopefully). Its a friggin 4th of July miracle!

Fluffernutters:
2 pieces of wonder bread
Fluff
Peanut Butter (must be Jiff or Skippy)

Spread PB on one slice, Fluff on the other, slap pieces together gently and then cut in half and eat.

Please note that imitation Wonder Bread can be spotted thusly - the fingerprints of the person who made the sandwich should be permenetly indented in the bread well enough to do a 12 point match. If the fingerprint isnt this clear, it's not Wonder Bread.

I was also told by a Philly guy that his mom always put Bosco on top of their fluffernutters but I say 1) Some people always gotta take it too far and 2) he might want to investigate my suspicion that his mom was probably having an affair with his dentist.

Now, Who got the Hooch?

12:42 p.m. - 2005-07-01
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Can't Wait!

Okay, so normally Id be a lot more firm about getting what I want this weekend and despite my hatred of large crowds I would be over in Philly at Live 8.
The Fourth of July is my favorite holiday/day of the whole damn year. Picnics, fireworks, fresh strawberries, corn on the cob, barbques - its the absolute best.
And I secretly still believe that, as my dad used to tell me, all the fireworks are for me.
My ideal fourth is a barbeque with all my friends and family follwed by being eaten alive by mosquitos as I watch fireworks in some field somewhere.
And yet, I havnt gotten that 4th for years and years.
One great year I spent the fourth wandering around Olde City where everyone was drinking on the street and smoking dope discretly and very silent as we watched fireworks light up the sky.
Last year was pretty good - J and I watched fireworks then went home and drank and got so busy that I left my pocketbook outside all night.
When I awoke of course, my wonderful waterproof leather satchel was filled to the brim with water. Cell phones dont float. Nor does my dayrunner. Or my pocket vibrator. All of which I had to replace.
In case you're wondering, yes, the sex was really that good. Note to self: you dont need a pocketbook this 4th - just some cash and a license.
This year I really want to go over to Philly to watch the fireworks either from Olde City or Penns Landing but they are doing it on Saturday night, same night as Live 8, when the city expects 1,000,000 visitors.
Yeah, I have ankles the size of melons, a surly disposition caused by a three pound ball of fun who kicks my bladder constantly and the energy of frozen cod, so Im thinking that trying to manouver my way through the city by myself in search of fireworks is a bad bad idea.
So Im gonna go to the bookstore today and get 10 or 15 books, buy some corn and the ingredients for strawberry shortcake and cage an invite from some friends for burgers.
I intend to do absolutly nothing. At all. I have forbidden everyone from mentioning my birthday this year, as I have this dread superstition that if I celebrate my birthday while Im pregnant my son will somehow be harmed.
Humor the pregnant woman, people. I can wait until September for the hallmarks.
That doesnt mean that all the fireworks arnt for me though.
So Im gonna eat and read and watch some fireworks, though not the Philly kind, and I thank you for all being great friends and hope y'all have a wonderful, glorious 4th, even if you're from London or Belgium or non-fourth-celebrating countries.
Although, English people, seriously, when you look at us today arnt you kind of glad you dont have to claim us?
Smooches Hooches!!!

12:06 p.m. - 2005-07-01
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A Big Big Mistake

My friend ran into babysitter trouble on Monday so I agreed to leave right after work and spend the afternoon with her two boys, 6 & 5. Have I mentioned that I absolutly adore them despite the fact that they never seem to recall who I am. I usually bring Terror along and of course he is the coolest thing in the universe to these boys. So instead of being their aunt, I am Terror's mom.
I made the mistake of going alone this time.
I got there at 130 and by 230 found myself staring longingly at the vodka bottle.
I called J.

Me: We've made a big big mistake.
J: What?
Me: We cant have a baby.
J: Oh. I think it's too late.
Me: It's not too late. Take it back.
J: Why? What did they do?
Me: How do you feel about being a single dad?
J: (Laughing) What are they DOING?

So I told him about the last conversation. Im being nice here, as they did not stop talking to me from the time I walked in. But here's the last 5 minute excerpt.

Q: Put your hands up.
Me: They are up.
Q: Higher.
F: I think we should kill her.
Q: Dont shoot yet!
F: We know what you did.
Q: Put your hands up.
Me: This is as high as they go.
Q: Why isn't Terror here?
Me: He is busy today.
Q: Doing what?
Me: He's at his dads.
Q: Why didnt he come here instead?
Me: Cause he had to go to his dad's.
Q: Why?
Me: Cause that's where he lives in the summer?
Q: Who took him there?
Me: Me.
Q: Why didnt you bring him here instead?
Me: I took him there before I knew I was coming here.
Q: Is that because you got a divorce?
Me: Yes.
Q: Why did you get a divroce?
Me: Uh....
Q: My mom and dad would never get a divorce.
Me: Good.
Q: But you did. That's why you're under arrest. Put your hands up.
F: I think we should shoot her.

I am way way WAY too old for this. Shoot me, please.

9:53 a.m. - 2005-06-29
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A Shameful Secret

Okay, now where I live in Jersey, our general area was long-considered a bedroom community for Phila. Sounds sexy, doesn't it?
What it really means is that many of us were split from our extended families as children and brought into the NJ suburbs but we remain slightly cooler than our peers cause we from the block yo.
That's right, Yo is ours. And dont you forget it.
I remain faithful to all the Phila customs and mores - Ive sampled from both Ginos and Pats, hung out on South Street when it was still cool, visit Olde City to see weird shows (many of which are performed right on the street at no charge), seen every lousy tourist attraction and House of Someone I Dont Care About, skated along Fairmont Park, drove the Zoo-kill (my record is 18 minutes from the BFB to Valley Forge - beat that with a stick, yo). I understand that cereal was meant to be eaten between 11PM and 3AM (unless you are orthodox in which case it's midnight-2am), and fluffer-nutters rule.

Now last night as I lay (lie? linger? lounge?) I murmured to J "I could really go for some Fluff."

"Fluff", says he "What is that?"

"Dont" I groaned, covering my head "because if you're going to tell me you never had fluff I will be forced to go to the supermarket tomorrow and get some straight away. And I dont want to, because then I will eat it all. So please take it back. Tell me you've heard of the marshmellow goodness that is Fluff."

"No." Because he secretly hates me.

As I pondered his shameful confession I realized in horror what this meant. "You mean, you live this close to Philly and you've never had a fluffer-nutter?" Id like to cry.

Who raised him, wolves?

So today I must get the ingredients for a fluffer-nutter and introduce him to the taste sensation that his obviously abusive parents denied him.

For those of you who are dead or not from Philly or both, a fluffer-nutter is a Fluff and peanut butter sandwich on Wonder Bread.

Now there might be some who will try to pass off some kind of Strohmans or, heaven forfend, grain-type bread with the peanut butter and fluff but this JUST WONT DO.

A Fluffer-nutter must have NO NUTRITIONAL VALUE WHATSOEVER. It must, in fact, have negative nutritional value.

It must send the weak and infirm into a diabetic coma even if they dont have diabetes.

It must have so many useless calories that the body simply shuts down in fear of even attempting to process this culinary delight.

In short, it's what made us Philly People win, several years in a row I might add, the Fattest City in America Award.

Put that in your fluffer nutter and eat it.

8:41 a.m. - 2005-06-27
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