I've Got About A Half A Billion Mega Million Reasons To Play The Lottery Today

"If the rich are unhappy, it's their own fault."-Lenin.

Have a great weekend and good luck bloggers!

The Epilogue

Now that I've had some time to reflect on this tale and go back in time, I thought I'd wrap things up with the "where are they now" part of the story. Upon closer reflection, I realized that out of the 7 other people in this story, I no longer have a relationship with 5 of them.

K and J, my dear college friends, are still my dear friends. K and I went to undergrad together and we always had each other's backs. That night just solidified it. He caught the garter at my first wedding, and we spent a lot of time hanging out in college. We've seen the years come and go and through those years, done some crazy, fun things. His wife J, has always been my friend, but more recently she has become part of my inner circle. K and J are my peeps and I hope I never have to go through life without their friendship.

L and A, my dear local friends, are a little more complicated. Both Russian Americans, we became acquainted when our children went to the same Montessori school when they were little. Land A were never at a loss for money, ever. They were the kind of people that didn't hear the word "no" a lot and if they did, they didn't like it. We somehow became pretty close; probably because I established my boundaries early on and I think they respected that. We experienced a lot together. L and A's marriage disintegrated at precisely the same time that mine did, and talk about crazy? L and I experienced some crazy shit at the hands of our Ex Asses during the first few years. Let's just say that BOTH our boys were never really on the up and up. For all the madness, I always had a soft spot for A (and not in a sexual way) Around me, he was kind of a gentle giant. I got to know his soft side; the father who adored his children, the intelligent side (he was a successful man and had a inventor deep within his soul) and he even showed me his extensive gun collection. It was the first time I had ever seen a real gun up close, much less an AK-47, and they scared the hell out of me.

A was found dead by his girlfriend in 2007 at his summer home on Cape Cod. Police said it was a suicide, but we have our doubts, and that's all I'm going to say about that. L decided in July 2010, just before my wedding, that she no longer wanted to be my friend. We were at the Foxwoods Casino in CT celebrating my bachelorette party with several of my friends and family members. I spent the last hours of our time there with L and another friend in their hotel room, ordering room service and giggling till 3am. The next day she decided to text me to tell me that she wouldn't be coming to my wedding "after the way I had treated her that night". I was floored.. Something tells me that the date of my wedding was too inconvenient for her scheduled trip to Moscow, so she must have decided to pick a fight with me, get out of the wedding, then work it out when she came back. Her plan had one fatal flaw; she picked the wrong girl to do that to. Forgiveness is not my strong suit. What I realize now is that she did me a big favor.

Which brings me to C and T, ah yes, my neighbors who we had become very close to who were at the crux of that fateful night. C and T were always pompous. I live in a very monied community, so pompous people are a dime a dozen, and one is only interested in the next if they think you have more money than them. I suspect that is what C and T saw in us. They wanted to impress us with their summer home, their country club, their charity events, their fancy parties and gain access to my inner circle. Thing was, I liked them. They were fun and hip and they had kids the same ages as my kids. We live right down the street from one another, and we spent some time together, good times, but I never rally saw their true colors until that night.

The day after the debacle of the Ex Asses birthday, C came to my house in tears. She apologized profusely and blamed the alcohol (I hate that) and begged me to forgive her telling me she "loved me and hoped that this wouldn't effect our friendship". I don't remember exactly what I said to her, but I forgave her even though I would never forget. I never saw C nor T again, socially. Occasionally, I will see her or him drive by. I always wave and they do too. I heard they are now on to these other, ludicrously rich people in the neighborhood. Good luck to those people cuz they are going to need it. I even heard that my down on his luck, criminal, bad karma Ex Ass has been seen hanging out with them recently, which does not surprise me at all.

Which brings me to my Ex Ass. Oh My, where do I begin?That's a story for a best selling memoir and while it was happening to me, I kept repeating it like a mantra. I will tell you that the story will be written someday soon. It is one heck of a story, too. I like to think of myself as intelligent and smart; someone who has heart and compassion, but all that was called into question in 2005 when he decided he could no longer keep up the charade. It's a lesson in what happens when you believe in love only to find out that what you thought was love was really just lies. And what happens when your carefully constructed house of cards comes tumbling down.

This Phoenix rose, rest assured, and I lived to tell the story.

Part III:The Eye Of The Tiger

This is the third and final installment of the Daily Dandy trilogy entitled "Why I will never discuss politics in mixed company." As has been previously stated, all of the events described in Part I HERE, Part II HERE, and Part III today, are factual events, and I have the police reports to prove it. If you missed any of the trilogy, scroll down to the beginning and get caught up, or click on the links above. You'll need the background for what lies ahead.

"Oh no she didn't," was my first thought. "Ok, maybe I just hallucinated," was my second. Did she really just? Truth is, she did, and the instant my brain recognized her words, my foot spiked the perfect pivot and spun me around to her direction in a flash. Why is it that when evil strikes, its always preceded by a smile? Because when I walked over to Little Miss Jean Jacket, the exorcist I had hours earlier expunged, was now present and flashing a big, wide-ass toothy grin.

"Oh, you said that cuz you think we're old," I quipped sarcastically . "You're hilarious," my blood now coming to a steady, rapid boil. I then got myself good and close to her and I went there. Yup, I went where no man should ever go, and I'm not proud of it. But the Italian/Irish Catholic girl, born and raised in Beantown, not very different from the ones I've shown you in those "Boston girl" videos, reared her racist head and she spoke these fatal words:

"Listen doll, why don't you go back to Thailand or wherever it is you belong and back under the rock from where you came."

She jumped down from the stone wall and stood in front of me and said, "Really?"
My face now so close to hers, I could smell the brand of vodka she had been drinking. (Stoli) Stone faced and calm I replied, "Really..."
For the record, I think what I said was more to sting her quickly, and I admit, it was below the belt, but I don't want/like to think of myself as a racist. Anyway you look at it, what I said was wrong and it set into motion the next set of crazy events.

Little Miss Jean Jacket, clearly insulted, stepped back and sent her tightly clenched fist flying right at my vulnerable left cheek, fast. I got lucky and managed to pull back just far enough to dodge her punch, but as I was pulling back, my left hand grabbed a firm hold on the t-shirt she was wearing under the jean jacket. All is fair in love and war, because as I was dodging her punch, I pulled back further and further, taking her t-shirt with me; ripping it right off her body. I don't remember much else, because at that moment I sort of felt like I held the coveted brass ring in my hand.

I think my Ex-Ass grabbed me and pulled me away and I then saw the guys getting into the melee; both hers and ours. I saw A take a swing at what he thought was Little Miss Jean Jacket's guy, but he ended up hitting Little Miss square in the face, and A is a 6'3, big Russian dude. At this point, the rest of the group had broken the whole thing up and we each went in our separate directions. The six of us quickly continued down Boylston Street, even more incredulous than before at what had just taken place. We could not believe our luck because all night it was consistently bad. Was there a full moon tonite, we wondered? I now couldn't wait for the evening to end and to get the hell out of there and go home. No one was laughing any longer, in fact, I believe we all were in different degrees of shock.

We turned the corner onto Dalton Street and got about half way down, just in front of the multi level parking garage where our cars were parked. All of a sudden from out of nowhere, about 6 screaming Asian youths came running and screaming around the corner. It was like a bad production of West Side Story, and the Jets were clearly gunning straight for us. One of the guys yelled, "Get inside, NOW!!" which was meant for us girls because we were standing just in front of the glass doors to the entrance of the parking garage. J, L and I ran inside the glass doors and watched helplessly as the guys literally fought off the youths in the street. Needless to say there was a hell of a lot of screaming going on.

Now we were in the middle of a raucous street brawl! It turned out, that there were about 5 of them, but those three "f*cking forty year olds" were kicking some serious ass! They were each in the middle of the street, brawling and punching and I saw my Ex Ass punching one in the face and kicking another that was down on the ground.(which I later found out is a felony because in MA the foot is considered a dangerous weapon) J ran out to the middle of the street where her husband K was now on top of an Asian youth, pounding the shit out of him. She was trying to pull him off of the kid, and we then tried to pull her off of him. Quickly, the Jets started to retreat and soon, they all hobbled away, except for the one Ex Ass had kicked in the head. He was still down on the ground.

We ran for the door and took the stairs to the floor where the cars were. So we thought. There was blood and screaming and craziness still going on between us, and for the next few minutes we walked around lost. There was no logic or sanity amongst us at this point. We then heard the sirens. And the thing with the sirens was that they were suddenly getting louder and louder. I can only speak for myself, but I know that my pulse was near triple time it's flutter capacity, so panic was not far off. By some miracle, we arrived at our cars parked side by side and I watched A take a gun (none of us knew he had) out of his holster and stash it in his trunk. (incredibly, he never once pulled that weapon during the events of the evening) We stood together and debated our next move.

We were cognizant enough to realize that the police would be waiting for us down below and because there was no escape, we decided to walk down the stairs and confront our reality. Sure enough, when we got downstairs the flashing red lights were blinding. There were 3 cop cars and one ambulance, blocking the front of the garage and I saw Little Miss, standing in front of the ambulance, in her jean jacket and bra (completely visible) with an ice pack on her face. A few members of the Jets were sitting on the back of the open ambulance, ice packs in hand and bloody bandages, but the one that had been kicked by Ex-Ass was lying on a stretcher.

The police were waiting for us and two cops came directly for us, intent on keeping us a safe distance from our enemy. "You wanna tell us your version what happened here?" the cop said. All of us, now stone cold sober because adrenaline and fighting will do that to you, looked at each other and the Ex-Ass began to talk.( he was always the best liar) I then heard the cop say that this was a racially motivated incident and that the Jets were going to press assault charges on the guys and that Little Miss wanted to press charges on me.. We went forth with the, "she struck first" thing and for the next hour there was a lot of back and forth between the cops that were talking with the Jets and the cops that were talking with us. Finally, they let the Jets go, they then took the kid on the stretcher away in the ambulance and they let us go. They told us they would be contacting us tomorrow about the charges.

Who the hell knows what time it was when I reached my home, but I was never more happy to see my house than that night.

That fateful night.

What we all decided later was that all of that craziness would have NEVER transpired, had the scene with C&T in the restaurant not happened.

We never heard a word about the charges, nor heard from the cops again.

And that, my friends, is why I will NEVER discuss politics in mixed company.

Part II: Me Love You Long Time

This is Part II of a three part Daily Dandy trilogy entitled "Why I will never
discuss politics in mixed company." As I stated before, the following events are
both true and unbelievable. The further you get into the story, the harder it
will be to believe but trust me, it all happened. You don't want to miss this
one, so to read Part I, scroll town to yesterday or go HERE.

I stood alone at the picnic table, red faced and fuming, as everyone watched T&C slink out of the silent restaurant in shame. Once they were gone, all eyes turned to us, or me rather, as I had just pushed the exorcist that had momentarily invaded my body back down into submission. The volume quickly returned to the restaurant, and I sat down to ponder what the hell had just happened. I think some one of us even said, "What the hell just happened? "but I can't be sure because the adrenaline that was pumping furiously through my veins was drowning out any sounds from inside my head. All I could hear was the steady pace of my quickened pulse.

I was still shaking and so was everyone else. God love him, A grabbed the check immediately and paid it without asking questions and we got the hell outta there as soon as possible. It was spring time in Boston, which meant it was a gorgeous night, but after the events that just took place, no one was ready to go home. We decided to walk up Dalton Street to Boylston Street where there were lots of bars to choose from to try and salvage the evening. While walking, we passed by lots of watering holes until we decided on Abe and Louies, an old gentleman's kind of steak house, complete with dark oak tables and floors and red velvet upholstery seating. The bar at Abe and Louis was, and still is notorious.

We got a table and immediately the hard liquor stated flowing. Now six of us, we could talk of nothing else but the events that had taken place with T&C. Had that really just happened? We did a shot. Did they both just act that way? We did another shot. Did I just act that way in public? We did still more shots. What the heck was that? Shot after shot, the conversation kept trying to make sense out of what had happened. Several hours and several shots later, it didn't matter because we had successfully numbed any of those bad feelings from our bodies. When it was time to rise to go home, we as a group, were now comfortably blurry and grateful to have survived the night.

Little did we know we hadn't seen the half of it.

We leisurely strolled out into the mild evening, the burden clearly lifted and with a new spring in our step. As we walked back to Dalton street, where our cars were parked in the multi level garage next to The Summer Shack, we might have even been laughing; dare I say it, we were clearly enjoying ourselves. We were walking in twos on the sidewalk, and we soon passed the Rattlesnake Bar, another famous Boston watering hole with a much younger crowd. Outside the Rattlesnake sitting up on a stone wall, was a young Asian girl and her guy. They were dressed casually; she in a jean skirt, t-shirt and jean jacket and he in flip flops and ripped jeans.

They were talking really close, almost kissing and to tell you the truth, I hardly noticed them, but J did and she playfully said, as we walked by, "oh go ahead, kiss him." Little Miss Jean jacket didn't find this to be playful or funny at all because she yelled out as we passed by, "Fu*k you! Mind your own business." She then added. "What are you, like fu*kin' forty?"

It was as if the record of the sound track of my life had just audibly screeched to a halt. Her words hit me like some long painted nails down a chalkboard and I stopped dead in my tracks. Any other night, I might have quipped a snarky remark and kept going, but not this night. She picked the wrong night to mess with this group and more specifically me, because I was ready for her.

I'm not proud of what happened next. I'm not even going to try to reason that tensions were already high, so I'll just take responsibility for my actions and tell you that what happened next had to be seen to be believed.

Part 3 Tomorrow: When You're A Jet, You're A Jet All The Way.

Why I Will Never Discuss Politics In Mixed Company: Part 1

Today I'm going to tell you a story.

This story is so legendary that I'm thinking it's going to take three blog posts to complete. The subject matter so unbelievable, that I know you'll be coming back for more over the next few days. What I'm about to tell you is 100 percent true. I may color an outfit or an expletive or not remember the exact words that were used, but the facts are the facts, both true and unbelievable. I couldn't make this shit up.

This story begins 8 years ago in May 2004, back when I was married to an asshole. It was said asshole's birthday, and being the Queen of the birthday celebration that I am, I decided to mark the occasion with a proper celebration. EX-ASS's birthday falls in May and I planned a dinner out with some of our closest friends. I decided to go to a new place in Boston called Kings, which is a bowling alley with a nightclub type atmosphere. You can get drinks while you bowl and listen to music under disco balls and black lights. At the time it was waaaay cool and very busy, so the plan was to have dinner first, directly above at Jasper White's Summer Shack-a great seafood restaurant, then go down to bowl.

I had invited 3 other couples: We will call them:
K&J, very dear college friends:
L&A, very dear local friends and
C&T some new friends with whom we had become VERY close with, who lived in our neighborhood.

I invited all three couples to my home before heading into Boston for margarita's and chips and dip. It was a spectacular warm spring evening and needless to say there were a lot more margarita's going on than chips and dip. I might have even had a heavy hand with the tequila because by the time we got to the Summer Shack, we were all having a grand old time and feeling GREAT. Let me just set the scene: The Summer Shack is one of those celebrity chef restaurants with great food, but the Summer Shack has a casual, beach like atmosphere. The tables are picnic tables with table cloths and benches. Mini tin buckets are on the table tops so you can discard lobster shells and crab legs and bibs are a pre-requisite. The dress code is flip flops, t-shirts and shorts.

We, on the other hand, are all dressed to the nines. My friend L, of L&A, is a Russian and NEVER is dressed down. Casual is a dirty word in her vocabulary. Her winter boots are Christian Louboutin 7inch heels, and that night she was wearing skin tight leather from head to toe. We sat down to eat; girls on one side of the picnic benches and boys across from their spouses on the other side and immediately ordered more margarita's.

The good times were flowing. We were laughing and talking and just when you thought things couldn't get any better, someone brought up the P word. POLITICS. This was right around the time of the Iraq prisoner abuse scandal, and what transpired next is true. Whether you agree with me or not is irrelevant to the story and not something I choose to debate at this time.

These are just the facts:
I was sitting in between J and C, with L on the other side of C. J says something about the Iraq prisoner scandal like:

"You know, we don't really know what motivated the Americans to abuse those Iraqi soldiers," she said. "They could have said things about killing and torturing other American soldiers that possibly provoked the abuse."
To which C responds,"Are you kidding me? What are you a FUC*ING moron?"

The table goes silent.

Now remember, I'm sitting in between the two ladies, on one side of a picnic bench. These ladies don't know each other, having just met for the first time this evening. I could hardly believe what I just heard. As hostess, I calmly say to C, seated on my left.

"Whoa, whoa..no need to name call here, C. Calm down. We are just having a discussion and I believe J is entitled to her opinion."

To which C responds, "What? Are you a FUC*ING moron too."

I think the blood drained form my face as I then looked over at C's husband who launches into a whole, "don't tell me you are a Bush supporter, because if you are than you are a FUC*ING MORON too." J is speechless, and I let this sit for a brief moment, because I think I was in shock, when I see L, looking like a Russian Lolita, get up and walk over to T to ask him to not make a scene and ruin the night. I am now sitting between K and J and K is spewing forth all this bullshit about what a moron J is for saying what she said with her finger pointing in J's direction.

To say I was SHOCKED would be an understatement. With my face contorted into an angry expression I did not recognize, I launch into a tirade on C about how this is a free country and J is entitled to her opinion and who the hell does she think she is. Out of the corner of my eye I see T and L fighting and I hear him say, "you're a FUCKING MORON too. You're all MORONS." And with a wave of his hand he says, "Now get the fu*k outta my face."

Not a good move. At. All.

I snapped. And, like my big brother, I never snap unless provoked but get me there and it ain't going to be pretty.

Just as the table is about to erupt into some kind of ugly, fist-a-cuffs bar brawl, I stand up, completely red faced with steam coming from my ears, and I slam both of my hands down onto the table as hard as I could. The entire restaurant is now silent and all eyes are on me.

I look over at T an C and with my entire body shaking with anger and my mouth scrunched into an evil scowl I say:

"I WANT YOU TO LEAVE." I then added so that there was to be no confusion, at all. "AND I WANT YOU TO LEAVE NOOOOW!"

Not another word was spoken. No one moved, except for T&C who quietly got up from the table and left the restaurant in complete silenced shame with everyone watching.

My heart was racing and everyone was in shock. Including everyone in the restaurant.

Part II tomorrow: Just the tip of the iceberg.

The Real F-Bomb

Karma always comes back to haunt you...cuz she's a real bitch. Like most bitches, karma tends to be real bad if you haven't been nice and karma is not loving Kimmy K these days. In LA, promoting her FOURTH fragrance at a launch party last night, (just what the world needs, another Kim Kardashian fragrance) Kim Kardashian experienced the wrath of bad karma.

With the whole world watching, someone dropped an F-Bomb on Kim.... quite literally.

I'm sorry, but payback's a bitch. Evidently a young woman dropped a flour bomb on Kim's big red carpet moment.

One of Kimmy's peeps ran after the perp and detained her until police could arrive at the scene. The woman was held but Kim did not press charges.

Word has it Kim went up to her room, changed clothes, brushed the flour out of her hair and returned back to the event a mere 10 minutes later where the crowd cheered her.

I had to laugh.

You think Kris Humphries is connected to the crime?
Have a good weekend bloggers! Try to steer clear of all F-Bombs!

Three Strikes And You're OUT!

They say the third time's a charm but sitting here today at my computer screen, wincing in pain at the slightest of movements on my left side, remind me that there is nothing charming about Tuesday night's tumble down the front stairs. Yeah, I fell down the stairs, yet again. And it wasn't a small fall. No, this one was a loud ker-thunk, ker-thunk, ker-thunk, kinda tumble that made everyone in my household appear all at once. The fact that it left me gasping for my breath notwithstanding, it took me a good 10 minutes to finally catch my breath and gain my composure enough to laugh at myself.

WTF? Am I a klutz? I wouldn't say that is generally the case. No, I trip here and there, just as much as the next guy. Forever fashion obsessed, I wear the most ridiculously high heeled shoes on a regular basis, yet I never have mishaps or falls. But I can pin point three monumental falls, down entire flights of stairs, in my life time and I was wearing either no shoes or flat shoes each time. Let's see if we can make a case for clumsiness:

THE EXHIBITS:

1. Fall 1 was at my first bachelorette party back in 1992. I was at one of Boston's most notorious night clubs; Zanzibar, with a large group of my girl friends. I know EXACTLY what I was wearing. It was late August and I was wearing a white linen, color block pant suit (quite chic, I might add. It was part of my trousseau) with simple white flats. I may or may not have been completely wasted because of the shots that people were buying for "the bride". At the entrance of the club there was a grand staircase, probably about 3 or 4 regular flights high that we had started to descend for our exit. I don't really remember what the hell happened or how it happened, but I took the entire decent on my ass, from top to bottom. The fact that I had twice the legal limit of alcohol in my bloodstream was more than likely my saving grace. The girls collected me in a pile at the bottom of the stairs and we continued to laugh, whole heatedly, for the remainder of the night. The laughter that ensued may have just been my fondest memory of the evening. I believe I still had bruises on my back on the day of my wedding. (In retrospect it was a sign of things to come, for sure)

2. Fall 2 I shared right here with you on The Daily Dandy. Fall 2 was no laughing matter, in fact Fall 2 included an ambulance ride to the hospital and a serious concussion. Read Part One here and Part Two here . Fall 2 was on a short stack of 4 stairs and I was wearing a pair of Ugg slippers at the time. It was early morning and some deadly black ice had covered my front stairs. That fall was a wake up call for me, to be aware of my footing and my surroundings at all times. It could have happened to anyone in that situation.

3. Fall 3. Tuesday night. I was upstairs with Frick, after dinner, just shooting the breeze. I left her room and went to go downstairs. I was wearing a pair of FAB True Religion bell bottomed jeans, that I wear with a kick ass pair of wedge heels. I had taken the heels off when I got home, so I think I might have tripped over the bell bottoms that were now too long, without my shoes. I did not hit my head at all. This time my ribs or my lungs took the brunt of the fall, and I toppled down directly on my side. I scared the beJesus out my family because I was gasping for air when they came running. After I composed myself, we had a good laugh, but yesterday was a big day at my store and I couldn't afford to be hurt. So I Spanxed myself up, like a brace almost, and plunged ahead all hopped up on Advil. Today I think I'll call the doctor cuz right now I don't feel any better, and maybe I might feel a little worse. I might have pushed it a bit yesterday...but it was worth it.

So you tell me bloggers...klutz or not?

I'm Taking A Spa Day

Sorry bloggers! Today is a big day at The Candy Bar.

We're giving fabulous spa facials with skin specialists from the BKamins company and I'm pampering my clients with goodies, free gifts and more.

Wish me luck! I'll take lots of pictures.

For Colby

A middle-aged guy is out to dinner with his wife to celebrate her fortieth birthday.

He says, “So what would you like, Julie? A Jaguar? A sable coat? A diamond necklace?”

She says, “Bernie, I want a divorce.”

He says, “I wasn’t planning on spending that much.”


birthdayjokes.com

The Critical Thinker

Frack had another academic A-HA moment at our kitchen table yesterday, and I love it when that happens. See, I got an email on Wednesday from one of Frack's teachers that-let's just say-didn't make me want to shout up and down the street with pride. Having said that, Frack took it like a man and paid his penance. Yesterday was a gorgeous day and since Frack was home, I told him that I needed two solid hours of homework from him after he was done helping out around the house.

Frack was pissed. He was moaning and groaning and I think he might have even punched a wall on his way upstairs to retrieve his backpack. (oh no you didnnnt!!) When he came down stairs, we spread everything out on the kitchen table and I decided to help him study for a Biology test he had today. There was a hell of a lot of huffing and sighing, eye rolling, and 'tude flowing from the young man at the table, so I confronted him.Frack expressed his belief that Biology was "stupid" and you guessed it, "unnecessary for his future."

"I'm never going to use this in real life, mom." he complained. "It's a colossal waste of my time."

Probably, I think we've all thought this exact same thought when we might have been Frack's age. I'll guess I even said those exact same words to my beleaguered parents at some point in my adolescence. But the Gods of Academia must have been smiling down on me at that very moment because I unleashed this sage-like monologue about how academics is really about teaching critical thinking strategies. Since Frack will not be pursuing a career in medicine or science, (so he says) Biology, I opined, is a specific means to an end to train his mind to approach a subject, any subject, using critical thinking techniques.

I was brilliant and I was eloquent. I don't know what came over me. I used my own experience with politics. While I don't really claim to jump up and down when Bill O'Reilly is on TV, (My Liberal Guy watches political news programs often) I told Frack that I listen, because it's my responsibility to make informed decisions about what happen to our country. Frack was uncharacteristically riveted. It was just one of those teaching moments with my children that made me grateful for the opportunities that I received as a kid and took advantage of. After I was done imparting my wisdom, I left the house to do some errands. I told Frack I would return later and quiz him on his "Cell Transport and Cell Structure" studies.

When I came back, some 4 hours later, there was a different kid sitting at the kitchen counter. He was brilliant and eloquent. He was explaining methods of cellular transport to me like he was a Rhodes Scholar applying for a Biology grant, and he was DELIGHTING in his own knowledge. After Frack aced everything we had dinner and sat to relax. My Guy later showed us a pro-Obama YouTube video touting his achievements during his time in office. Frack, in his newly minted sponge-like desire for information, loved it. He started asking questions about politics, political parties and political ideologies. Never one to discuss politics in mixed company, I gently reminded Frack that what he had just seen was produced and released by our President, a President who is running for re-election in this election year.

A robust political debate ensued between My Guy and I and Frack soaked up every bit of it. He got a great education about all sides of the politics of an election and such. And just when I thought that My Guy had the advantage with Frack, Frack looked and me and said,

"Don't worry mom. I can use critical thinking to make my own decisions about partisan politics."

I freakin' love that kid....

Hi I'm Jackie's Packie. We Sell Ciggies and Beer

St. Patrick's day is a big deal in this city. Boston, home of the liberal, Irish Catholic political hack, the St. Patrick's day breakfast in South Boston is legendary. It's an opportunity for partisan politics to poke fun; a roast, so to speak, for political allies and foes.

The city also hosts one of the biggest St Patrick's Day parades in the country in the heart of Irish Catholic Boston, SOUTHIE. Growing up, it was a rite of passage, attending the parade. For me it was always exactly for what it was meant to be for-getting completely hammered and checking out cute Southie boys. A true celebratory "wearin' of the green".

I post his today in honor of that Boston tradition. It's my favorite installment of the Housewives franchise, The Real Housewives of South Boston. While this one is not as funny as the first one, (in fact it's kind of crass) I can't quite say that this one is too far off the mark. While I did not grow up in South Boston, I knew plenty of people who did and I'll venture to guess that after seeing this, they wouldn't own up to spending a few St Paddy's day parade day's this way.

Happy St. Paddy's Bloggers! Keep your Irish up!

Sucking It All In

That's right, she's a billionaire.

I'm sure most people have no idea who Sara Blakely is. I certainly didn't until Sunday, but I know her product.

I know her product oh so well, as it has become a staple; a must have, a do or die fashion element in any smartly dressed woman's wardrobe. Men, ask your ladies because they know what we are talking about. Sara Blakely can count on women all over the world knowing what we are talking about-all the way to the bank.

Sara Blakely created Spanx.

At 41 years old, she is the youngest woman and self made billionaire to ever make the prestigious list. Sara Blakely did something so simple, so brilliant that I couldn't believe that there was one person behind the idea. She re-created the girdle. She modernized a device from our great-gtrandmother's era that was villified and lothed for it's torture.

Sara Blakely changed all of that. She gave us a new name, "shapers" and make them seamless with her own two hands, then patented them with a patent book she bought at Barnes and Noble. Her first account was Nieman Marcus and soon a star was born. Today the Spanx empire boasts hundreds of styles of undergarments like: Booty Booster, The Bra-llelujah, Slim-Cognito, Skinny Britches and Trust your Thinstincts.

Women all over the globe wouldn't dare to get dressed without them. Red Carpet event atendee's have even confessed to "doubling up" on Spanx, and Hollywood regularly includes Spanx products in it's various swag bag events. I, myself will admit that I cannot live without my one, coveted Spanx favorite: The Bra-llelujiah. This garment changed my life, and honestly I will not be without it. It's comfort alone is the sole reason I choose to spend $62.00 on a bra. I have almost every color imaginable and I plan on never facing a day without my Bra-llelujiah.

Herin lies the key to Sara's sucess. She tapped into something that was taboo, forbidden and shameful and she made it modern, chic, comfortable and necessary. She made sucking in our sins a shared ritual for millions of women and in the process she made millions. Or more like billions,

Selling girldles. Who would have ever thought it possible?

Where Is Jimmy Bastard When You Need Him?

*read in a Scotish accent*

Why do Scottish men wear kilts?


Because the sheep can hear a zipper a mile away.

I Care

I will have to admit to not knowing who Joseph Kony was until this morning.
I will also admit that after watching the YouTube sensation "KONY 2012" I want to know more.
You see, Frack, my boy, will be travelling over to Uganda with World Challenge in June on an educational expedition for a month. While there, he will meet and work with Ugandan people recovering from Joseph Kony's wake and he will help them to build schools and meet challenges. He will learn, first hand, about the struggles and triumphs these people face daily and he will be part of the re-building process, albeit a small one.

The good news is that Kony is no longer in Ugnda. Kony and his LRA have not been in Uganda for years and they are now at peace in most areas. Another parent of one of the kids going to Uganda with Frack sent me this link, and I ask you to watch it, when you have some time. While this movie is inspirational, it is not without controversy. There are those who don't agree with the message behind KONY 2012. Shelly Wright is one of them. In her blog Wright's Room, she wrote a piece about the film and what she calls "Slacktivisim". Read it for yourself after you watch the mini movie.

Each one of these devoted and determined people have a valid point and each one of these devoted and determined people are fighting for children. The maker of this movie and Shelly Wright, both motivated by their desire to make a difference.

All I know is that I am soon sending my baby over there to see for himself.
And I care.

Hipsters In Love

Sorry, no time today bloggah's. So I thought I'd share with you further proof that My Tommy and I were destined for each other....

This is My Tommy, courtside at the Celtics/Lakers game yesterday in LA.

And this is me at The Candy Bar last month:

Just call us hipsters in love.....

What The?

Hey bloggers! It's Friday and over here at The Daily Dandy that usually means a fun and frivolous send off to the weekend. Not today.

Today I am turning the tables and taking a completely serious tone with the topic. I read about this and I'm shocked at how modern technology has turned something as innocent and pure as cinnamon into a what could be a lethal substance.

I'm talking about the viral craze called the "Cinnamon Challenge". Crazy? For sure.

The Cinnamon Challenge is dangerous and absurd. Defined as a "dare game", the participant's challenge is to swallow 1 teaspoon of pure cinnamon without water and without inhaling or vomiting for one minute. The result is a viral world of Youtube video posts with people coughing out enormous bursts of brown smoke. In some cases the coughing is so severe, the participant has extreme difficulty catching their breath. And asthmatics? Forget about it.

I found this little tidbit while trolling the interwebs:

"To understand the potency of cinnamon, ponder this: Cinnamaldehyde, the organic compound that gives the spice its distinctive flavor, is used as a pesticide and fungicide. It’s strong enough to kill little things, for heaven’s sake. The EPA warns of acute dermal toxicity; acute oral toxicity; eye irritation; dermal irritation and dermal sensitization. Granted, this is just a component of cinnamon used in concentration, but still, this demure seasoning clearly has a wicked side."


Judge for yourself this Jackass prank that seems to be sweeping our youth. By posting this I am in no way endorsoing this challenge. You gotta see this to believe it because it's really sad.

Have a great weekend bloggers. Try not to huff anything.

You Give Me Fever...

Right now, I'm cuckoo for color.




It all started with something I wore this week.

Now I can't get enough.

It's like a bight ray of sunshine in the dead of winter.

Like the crocus, popping up through the snow.

I die for it...

It's a fashionista's dream because right about now we are starving for color.

It takes me back a few decades when I was young and carefree....
and Madonna was at the top of the charts.

I like this one the best cuz this is me. This is how I still roll, decades later.

I've got the fever.

Three Words Wednesday

Cut. It. Out.

Now visit my poll on the sidebar, then give me your three words.

Crack is Wack Part II

I have to admit that since Whitney's death I have been reading everything and anything that pops up about the tragic and troubled diva. I didn't even know that I cared that much, but apparently I do. What's even more tragic is that I'm about to admit that I have recently been watching YouTube episodes of Bravo's now defunct reality show, "Being Bobby Brown". It's like research and I just need to get a glimpse into what went on in their lives so that I can make sense of the train wreck of it all.

And you do get a glimpse of it, if not all of it on that show. So when Yesterday's news came out about Bobby Brown being homeless, broke and living out of his car, it just didn't sit well with me.

Ok, so Bobby Brown was broke and homeless after Whitney kicked his broke-ass outta her house and went to rehab to clean up her act. Why is this big news? We didn't just go to school to eat lunch cuz we all know where the $$ came from. The fact is that Whitney's fortune, at one time estimated to be $240 million, was dwindling. (cuz $240 mil can buy you a lot of rock for a real long time)Which means that Whitney cut him loose to try and save her sinking ship.

I am not saying that Bobby was the degenerate drug addict in the relationship or that Whitney's life was ruined because of his influence on her drug use. On the contrary, I fully believe that Whitney was the real addict here and that Brown was a man who did what he always did to get by. He smoked, he snorted, he ingested, he drank, he ate and he did it all on his wife's dime. It was Whitney who had the real love affair with the pipe. We may never know what the whole truth is and who says we need to.

But the fact that Brown's money troubles and homelessness after his divorce are big news today puzzle me. We already knew this, and if you live in Boston like I do, its no surprise. In the past decade, Brown has been sentenced to jail for non support of his children who live here at least twice and he was always in the news for being in court to answer deadbeat dad charges. Bobby and the Massachusetts court system are like peas and carrots, so why the sudden, "woe is me" PR. What's his motive?

While Whitney isn't around anymore to tell him to, "kiss my ass!" and refute the crap he will undoubtedly be spewing, I'm betting the business man in Brown ain't no fool. He sees $$$ all over this because of people just like me. We have absolutely no right to know the truth, yet we have the deepest desire to know the truth and we comprise a market that will spend money on it. Sad but true.

I'm thinking that Bobby Brown's homeless days are over, and I think he has his deceased x-wife to thank for a big part of that. I'm also hoping he cleans his act up and does something good beside impregnating women and then leaving them broke and penniless. But that might be too much to ask for a guy who just does what he does to get by. I also pray that his daughter, Bobbi Christina gets the help she needs to clean up her act too. According to Bobby Brown he was her primary caretaker.

Is there a pattern here?

LINsane In The Membrane

You shoulda heard all the hoopla. All weekend long it was all most TV, radio and newspapers could talk about. Jeremy Lin was returning to Boston, home of Harvard, where he began his basketball ascension to greatness. You couldn't miss it. Heck, I even got caught up in it all. Who doesn't love a great Cinderella story like Jeremy Lin's?

Boston Herald Sports scribe Ron Borges put Linsanity into perspective for me with his Sun morning Page 8 article in the Boston Herald. Borges wife, a Taiwanese American, and her family, including his 5 year old son, described how Jeremy Lin and his recent NBA success has "rekindled and old flame". Suddenly, yesterday's game was more about Lin and less about the Celtics.

What's even more amazing is that in a place like the Boston Garden, where Celtic greats like Bird, Cousy and Bill Russell were worshiped and glorified, and where 17 World Championship banners hang in the rafters, and where it's storied parquet floor has played host to some of basketballs greatest rivalries and where Celtic fans bleed a proud and deep green, the crowd was cheering a hometown cheer when ever Jeremy Lin touched the ball in the opening minutes of the game.

Now that there is some powerful Linsanity!

Let's not forget that this guy has been Lin-sane for only about a month now, and has revitalized a New York Knicks team that was literally flat lined. Dead. In the time since his Feb 2012 emergence that made him a household name, he has led the Knicks to winning streaks, major media coverage, and been on the cover of Sports Illustrated twice. To say that Lin controls the flow of their game is an understatement.

But Jeremy Lin is not invincible, and his play as of late has been humbling. Yesterday was no different. But hard core Lin fan's don't care. Even the big guy himself, the POTUS, Barry Obama who sat down with Bill Simmons, aka ESPN's The Sports Guy, last week. When asked about Lin, Mr. President claimed to have been in on Linsanity long before all of us. Arne Duncan, his secretary of education, was captain of the Harvard basketball team, who told POTUS that Jeremy Lin was one to watch.
"So I've been on the Jeremy Lin bandwagon for a while...I can't take credit for (Linsanity). but I'm just saying I was there early." Obama said.

WOW. The leader of the free world claiming to be a big fan.... Now that's some serious Linsanity.



Simmons entire interview is available on his website Grantland.com

Ewwwww.

Dang! Like overnight I became sick. This is a different kind of sick than I have been in a while. I woke up yesterday with a migraine and fought it off all day. Around 3pm I started to feel a bit better, and after dinner I went to Frick's high school play. As I was sitting there I could feel myself getting feverish .I came home and went right to bed. I had a rough, sleepless night, fighting off bouts of nausea.


At the moment, I feel like I have been hit with a Mack truck and I feel very weak. I can't seem to get out of bed.

Anyway, I hope I get better fast. I got plans for the weekend.

I hope you have a great weekend bloggers! Stay healthy.

Dreamy Davey Jones

Aw crap, we lost another one that made me wistfully sad to see 'em go. I felt that way when I heard about Davey.

I used to worship The Monkees. I watched that show faithfully everyday on Channel 56. I remember it was wedged somewhere between the Banana Splits and the Brady Bunch and I never missed it. Mike, Mickey, Peter and Davey were the dreamy foursome that captured the hearts and the imaginations of generations of kids. What's funny is that I was just born when the Monkees TV show originally aired and was just 2 when it ended. Thanks to the magic of syndication, a whole new generation of kids like me were able to watch and enjoy The Monkees.

And Davey? He was my favorite. He had those teen heartthrob looks and a killer smile all wrapped up in a pint size package with an adorable British accent. I had more that a few pictures of Davey on my bedroom wall. The Monkees will always hold the best of memories for me.

The group was criticized for being a band formed around a TV show and for not having the chops of a group that had been together for years. What did they know? 45 years later their music still stands and plays on major radio stations around the country and when Diane Sawyer reads your obituary on World News Tonite, I guess you can say you did something right.

At 66, Davey was taken much too young, but somewhere up in heaven today there are a few more Daydream Believers than there were yesterday.