Merry Christmas! I'm Getting Fat

Ok, so I'm not getting fat by American standards. I'm probably not even near average for good ol' USA. But I'm slowly and steadily gaining weight, even if I'm the only one that notices.

September

December

Of course, eventually someone is bound to notice. And that someone is Daddy.

Yesterday morning, during Christmas breakfast...

Daddy: Wow, you're really eating a lot, Jilly. You finished your omelette and now you're eating two pieces of French toast? Daddy's never seen you eat like this.

I pause, thinking maybe I shouldn't eat all this.

Jilly: It's not... that much.

Mommy: You'd be surprised. She can eat more than you'd think and stay that small.

Daddy: What do you think? Now that you're married, you can eat as much as you want?

This was met by an "Ohhhhhhh" from the rest of the family, the type usually reserved for "yo mama" jokes on the playground. Daddy quickly laughed it off, assured me he was kidding, and kissed me one too many times on the cheek.

Daddy, we're not friends. When I can curse in front of you, you can make jokes.

Am I The Only One That Still Loves Friendly's?

This ode* to Friendly’s has to do with another story (I swear I’ll get to it), but it turns out I have a lot to say about Friendly’s on its own.

In case you don’t live in the suburbs of the Northeast U.S., Friendly’s is a sit-down diner-esque restaurant chain, that is slightly fancier than Denny’s but less fancy than Ruby Tuesday’s.
...And if you don’t live in the U.S. at all, I’ve made nothing clearer for you - although, side note, we went to a Ruby Tuesday’s in India so that’s apparently universal.

Friendly’s is famous for their ice cream, especially:

The Wattamelon Roll

 sherbet with chocolate chips - you’d think they’d clash but they don’t

And, most of all, the Cone Head sundae.

order it with Black Raspberry (purple!) ice cream

When I was a kid, the Cone Head was the thing. And, it needs to be said, Friendly’s leadership! If you ever stumble on this:

DON’T THINK NOBODY NOTICED THAT YOU TOOK THE EXTRA REESE’S PIECES OUT OF THE BOTTOM OF THE CONE HEAD.

There used to be bonus Reese’s Pieces in the bottom of the sundae and the menu description even said “with a surprise at the bottom” but they stealthily removed that about 15 years ago and I will NEVER forget. Hope you're enjoying all those Reese’s Pieces savings, corporate fat cats. Actually, the company has been struggling in recent years despite improvements made over the last decade, but I digress...

Friendly’s has been a weirdly big part of my life, starting with my childhood. Here’s a preview of my to-be-self-published memoir, titled...

Ice Cream Cone Dreams: My Life in Terms of Friendly’s

When I was a kid, there was a Friendly’s right by our house,which Amy and I used to walk to with our parents. Now that I’m living there again, I’m sad it’s no longer around, and sometimes fantasize about buying the building from Aboff’s and convincing Friendly’s to reopen because the building is still vaguely Friendly’s-shaped.

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My friends and I also used to spend a lot of time at Friendly's in high school. You know, just eating fatty foods, annoying waiters, writing songs and plays, typical trouble-making teenage stuff. The cool kids hanging out at Mill Dam probably had nothing on us.

Many years later, Tom and I bonded over how we both still love Friendly’s and ended up going there on our third date. (Hot!) 

I’m guessing the future includes our taking our kids to Friendly's, and my begging the server to hide some Reese’s Pieces at the bottom of my hypothetical daughter’s sundae until she gets old enough to demand one of their new-fangled sundaes like the Monster Mash or Vol-Cone-O or whatever.

And after that? A Black Raspberry ice cream IV drip in my nursing home? All I know is that my love affair with Friendly’s won’t die until one of us (the restaurant or I) does.

*Disclaimer: I’m fully aware that I should be ashamed of my love for Friendly’s.

Why Are We Still Sending Christmas Cards?

You know what sucks about being a grown up in December? Christmas cards.

In 2012, there are countless reasons not to send Christmas cards. For example, the internet exists. The phone exists. Well, those are pretty much the only two reasons, but do we really need more?

Is it the invention of the internet, or did this chore always suck? I remember my mom dutifully writing cards (usually containing a photo of Amy and me in red dresses) and she seemed fine with it. But how did she have time with two kids and work and going to school? Hmm, given that, I should just stop complaining right now... but I won't.

What about my grandparents' generation? Was sending Christmas cards no biggie because people were just sending letters all the time anyway? (Or was that my great grandparents' generation?)

Given my relative disdain for the process, you might wonder why I'm bothering. Well...

• I already bought Christmas cards on sale after Christmas last year;
• They are pretty and sparkly;
• I sometimes fantasize about being one of those together people that remembers birthdays and sends Christmas cards (oh well).

I gave it a try, anyway. Tonight is my last night writing cards and tomorrow I'm sending out whatever we have done. So if you get a card from Tom and me, you're either very special (grandparents), very lucky (random), or alphabetically superior (sorry, L-thru-Z).

Given that you're probably not one of those people, here's my Christmas Card to you, lovers and friends:

...and don't bother asking about our wedding thank yous. You'll get yours probably on day 364.

Ms. PC's Baggage

By now, you know I'm a sitcom fan, but when it comes to the game show genre, nothing can compete with Baggage.

First introduced to my eyes and ears on The Soup, Baggage (hosted by Jerry Springer so you know it's good) seems like your typical dating show on the surface: sleezy, prematurely balding men get to be picky about which way-too-hot-for-them plastic Barbie they feel like going out with.
(I don't mean to oversimplify. The picking goes both ways and I'm sure the guys are too hot for the girls sometimes, but you get the gist.)

Regardless, relative looks don't matter much on the show because it all comes down to their weird, creepy baggage.

(email readers, click on the link to the blog to see the video)

My sister and I have often tried to think of what our baggage would be. These people are so crazy that it's tough to think of anything that would remotely be considered for the show.
But in light of my last post, I thought I would do all my worst cleanliness-related baggage.

Ms. PC's Baggage
(In order of embarrassment-level)

Round 1 (the personal item): I sometimes stare at dust for days or weeks before I get around to actually cleaning it. I only vacuumed up the dust bunnies at our old apartment after I saw little tiny bugs (don't worry, I checked, not bedbugs).

Round 2 (the carry on): I am afraid to clean a lot of my dad's house, including the drawers and cabinet under the bathroom sink. I opened one of the drawers, saw a dead moth in there, and just closed it back up again.

Round 3 (the checked luggage): I don't like to shower. This will come as a shock to none of my close friends. I shower, of course, because society demands it, but I don't like it. I could explain this further but, for now, I'll just say... I have my reasons.

So there you have it. Don't leave me hanging, lovers and friends. Feel free to confess your best (worst) baggage in the comments.

Top 5 Reasons to Love The Old Train

As Alice pointed out, I haven't complained about the LIRR in a while. Well, ok, if the readers demand it...

Background: the LIRR got pretty nice new trains about 10 years ago but every once in a while, you get stuck with an old one, which feature such lovely amenities as....


1. Every seat held together with duct tape.

2. The stylish "wood" paneling.

3. The Seal of the State of New York wallpaper.

4. The short seat on the end. Enjoy your nap.

5. Not pictured: the lights and heat turning off every time there's a gap in the third rail (which is often).


I guess it makes me grateful for my regular train. How about you, lovers and friends, what's your public transportation like? I bet you're riding in style.

Bullseye

Important update: Just found out that Target has pretty much everything Pier 1 has.

Remember that decal I wanted that was going to make me super sophisticated?

Boom.

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And Pier 1's signature product?

"Vase Filler"

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It's like they didn't get the memo that they're called decorative spheres. Fools.

6 Things You Forgot About Using The Phone In The 90s

Apologies for not getting my posts out this week but I get a hurricane pass. Daddy got power back yesterday but now the Internet is out. Also went to the library today but their wifi was out too. So I'm typing this on my phone and hoping to upload it in a rare moment of 3G coverage.

So much to talk about. For example...
Crazy gas lines + traffic lights out = full-tilt jungle madness

[Imagine your own Mean Girls gif here. I really can't from my phone.]

Computer edit: try this one.

But my family was very fortunate that we didn't have flooding and none of our persons or property were lost. Daddy's power was out for 4 days and Mommy's has been out for 5 and counting, but we're making the most of it. We've been drinking wine and playing board games at Mommy's every night.

My point is that I have nothing to complain about. However, I am now going to educate you on a little something we call "landlines."

actual phone

We are lucky Mommy kept her old landline from before they got Fios, or we wouldn't even have service. Plus her old corded phone that she dug out of somewhere. And when you can't charge your cell (and then the cell towers go down) it's nice to have a landline. But here are some things you may have forgotten about old school landlines.

1. No caller ID. The phone rings and you have no idea if it's a loved one, a telemarketer, or your stalker. You just pick it up.

1a. Besides not knowing who it is, you also don't know who it's for. At one point we had up to 7 people hunkered down at Mommy's. So you just answer it like "hello?" and then the caller has to, like, say who they are and why they're calling.
Except sometimes they don't. Because they're not used to 90s phones either. So they're just like "Helllloooo having fun???" and you're like "um what?" and eventually figure out it's Aunt Kath's sister in Colorado.

2. Everyone shares one phone. So, if you want to call someone, but someone else is using the phone? You have to... wait.

3. The phone is connected to the wall. So, you can't really walk places. Even if everyone decides to start having a conversation and/or turn up the News Radio 88 right next to you.

4. If you hang up but don't really hang up right... you might hear "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again..." and if you don't hear that you'll almost definitely hear some super loud beeping.

5. Sometimes, after dialing, you might hear... "All circuits are busy. Please try your call again later." or this weird thing called a busy signal. This has actually been happening kind of a lot.

6. There's no browser on your landline. With no internet, you dial 4-1-1 and tell a recording the name of the person or business whose number you need. You are charged extra for this service because they know you must be desperate.

Seriously not complaining. I actually think its funny to relive my childhood. Makes me grateful for the device on which I wrote this entire post. Oh, and now that I'm done, I found out the internet started working again. But since it's 2am, this is what you're getting.

Feel free to share your most cherished inconveniences of the 90s.

Jay Z Speaks

I never really gave an update on the amazing Jay Z concert I saw a couple weeks ago at the Barclay's Center. Here's the short version.

Tom and I took the drunk train in. Since the LIRR is always awesome, our train from Huntington was late to Jamaica so our transfer left without us. While waiting for the next train, I bought a Grolsch, which opened with the sound of a champagne cork popping and all the drunks around us cheered. Tom was drinking coffee like a nerd.

paper bag = class

The concert was, as I tweeted, a religious experience.

Then Tom and I luckily just made the 11:55 train. But when we got to Jamaica we realized that there wasn't a train to Huntington for over an hour so obviously I fell asleep while waiting for it.

Blah blah, another LIRR story. Really, I just wanted to pass on some advice from Jay Z. 

He referenced the media having reported his owning only a small percentage of the Nets and gave some words of wisdom ending with...

"Don't let anyone diminish your accomplishments."

Church! Then he launched into "99 Problems" which, in case you forgot, is awesome.

Got any wise words from a random source?

Becoming Bridge & Tunnel

Let me start by saying that the drunk train as immortalized by How I Met Your Mother's episode "The Drunk Train" is completely a thing.

HIMYM reps NYC (even if it's filmed in LA)

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I try not to go into the city on the weekends. Let's face it: at a certain point, even going into Manhattan from Brooklyn became a chore. But a couple times recently, I had the occasion to take the drunk train.

The most recent time was this past weekend. Rachel and I decided to be young and give in to excitedly jump on our friend Rae's invitation to go dancing.

Oh and since the LIRR is awesome, when we got to Huntington Station, we found out there were no trains from Huntington and had to take a shuttle to Hicksville. We rolled with it but the old man on the bus with us was pissed.

kind of like this... or something

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Usually I'd go for beer but, this time, my trank (train-drank) was 5 Hour Energy, which just barely lasted until we got home about 5 hours and 15 minutes later. I blame my work/commuting schedule for conditioning me to get tired early, therefore making me drink harmful caffeinated beverages when I should be drinking alcohol.

We met Rae at Culture Club. This is where I crossed the line into Bridge & Tunnel.

For those of you that aren't from here, Bridge & Tunnel (B&T) is a term we snobby New Yorkers use to refer to those overdressed drunks who are bussed (train'd) in on the weekends from such God forsaken places as New Jersey or (heaven forbid!) Long Island. B&T bars are the last place you want to be seen. And I'm pretty sure Culture Club is B&T Mecca.

Culture Club

So, why did I go? 
Was it the $25 cover? (No, I'm not joking.)
Was it the $13 drinks? (Includes a plastic souvenir cup.)
Was it the crowd? (A unique mix of bachelorette parties, middle-aged women, and a few creepy guys trying their odds with either of the above.)

The truth is: I secretly think Culture Club is fun. Bombshell.

sorry

But... ok?? 

Evidence:
1- The 80s room is akin to singing into your hairbrush with your girlfriends at a sleepover. 
2- The 90s-00s room lets me relive my high school and college dance party days. 
3- Plus, thanks to the high female-male ratio, I can mostly avoid the creeps. Except for those that came with my friends (*ahem* Rae).

That said, it bears repeating... $25 cover. Therefore, never again. Never. Um, maybe just except for a bachelorette party or something but that's it, I swear.

Ladybugs and Omens

When my parents first moved into their house in Huntington, Mommy found ladybugs everywhere, and she felt like it was her mother's spirit looking after her.

an especially ugly ladybug gif

Ladybugs have always been a special symbol of good luck in my family. There was a ladybug on my leg the day my team won the xAct (xTREME Accounting) local case competition at Binghamton (full on nerd in the house - TF3 forever!) And other than that... I can't remember a specific time when ladybugs have really brought luck but I've always liked them and I got a ladybug tattoo on my hip on my 21st birthday and no you can't see it.

On Sunday, Tom and I returned to this house, which is now Daddy's house. And we were greeted by a different insect...

Bees.

Now, in Tom's family, bees are considered bad luck. Well, it's not so much a family superstition as Tom just doesn't like them because he was stung multiple times as a kid and, really, who needs a bunch of bees around?

When Tom and Daddy went to move our mattress, there was one on the mattress cover, which seemed to be injured. Daddy vacuumed him up. Later, I found one on the bathroom window, which Daddy shooed out. Then there was a dead one on one of Daddy's several keyboards.

Finally, we found the source: the nest in our bedroom window. 

Bees.

Daddy said he'll knock it down but he didn't say when. Then he said "This house just seems to attract bees." Bees.

As we were leaving, a bee landed on our windshield. We then went to the park to enjoy the weather for a few minutes...

And as soon as we sat down, three bees landed on our bench.

Bees.

If my mom took the ladybugs as a sign that she was supposed to be here, what are the bees trying to tell me?

Bee Afraid!

Tonight will be our first night staying at Daddy's.

Pier What-the-F

I'm blogging about Pier 1. This is my life now.

Last Sunday, I actually had a whole day to just relax and maybe even get some writing done. So, of course, I got bored.

Tom wouldn't go to the library with me because he was out of clean clothes. (Should I do something about that? Eh, he'll figure it out.)

Finally, I just needed to go somewhere. And there's a Pier 1 right here so...

Three natural reactions to Pier 1:

1. Some people have too much time and/or money and/or space on their hands.

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According to Pier 1's website, these are called decorative spheres. So it's like a whole thing.

No offense to anyone that might love decorative spheres and think they're the best thing ever, but my mom doesn't even own any of these and she has different couch pillows for different seasons.

2. I can't wait to have a house, or a home office, or just a room.

super cute wall applique that will make my future home office extra girly

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you can't tell but this clock is super giant and I want it

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3. Uck, that is bleak.

There's a lot of stationery and cocktail napkins with "funny" sayings on them.

must exit suburbs immediately!!!

credit and full catalog for your ordering pleasure

My big haul:

for the girl with too little time and/or money and/or space

Pocket nail files! 48 cents, y'all! Maybe the smallest purchase in Pier 1 history.

And in conclusion:

Pier 1 embodies everything that is good and bad about the suburbs. And I lovate them for that (excellent new word stolen from saradraws).

Daddyism #1

Rabbit Rabbit.

"It seems like everyone wants money from you these days."

Tom, Daddy, and I are walking from Daddy's to the Mediterranean Snack Bar.

Daddy: You know, it seems like everyone wants money from you these days.

Me: Are you talking abou those kids having a car wash?

Daddy: Well, yeah. Not just there. Everywhere. Like the supermarket. There's always someone outside asking for money for charity. I'm at the point where if I see that, I'll go to a different supermarket.

Me: Seriously?

Daddy: Yeah, and Wendy's. I go there and get two 5 piece spicy chicken nuggets, which costs $2.18, and then they want a dollar for charity.

Me: Uh huh.

(There is no point arguing a Daddyism.)

Walking 4 Love

Enough complaining about commuting! For now. Despite what you may have heard (or read here) I am determined to deal with commuting better than I did when I was 22 (story for another time, perhaps). 

On Saturday I did something really cool: The Jana Piccola Walk 4Love.

pink and blue everything!

I had heard of the walk but never thought to sign up. My friend Greg told me that it was a mini HHS reunion. This did not particularly entice me. Plus I wanted to have one free weekend after all the moving and non-wacky chaos.

Greg then tried to guilt me into going but nobody can guilt me but me. Which is exactly what happened when I read this story about Jana. So I signed up and roped my friends Jenny and Erin into going as well.

you can tell we're really serious about this race

The event started at Mill Dam, which is a place that the cool kids would often mention in high school and I never knew if they were referring to Mill Dam Park or Mill Dam Road or if there was an actual dam somewhere... And I never knew why they were hanging out at whichever one of those Mill Dams they were at, except presumably to drink and smoke, and I still don't know to this day. Any former cool kids reading this, feel free to enlighten me.

There were around 600ish? people there, which seemed like a lot for this little event...

...but luckily or unluckily, the high school reunioning was kept to a minimum.

And then there were some middle aged women dancing to Gangnam Style for some reason...

Then the "race" started. Greg, his girlfriend Kristin, Erin, Jenny and I set off on a leisurely walk around the Southdown area of Huntington.

Huntington is, like, seriously beautiful sometimes

Greg had originally said that he would be embarrassed to walk, rather than run, because last year he finished the 5k in 24 minutes. (And wordsmith that he is, he managed to phrase it in a way that Kristin thought he was embarrassed to walk with her.) But, hobbled by a toe injury, he was forced to walk anyway. And I was on a stroll....

About halfway through the walk, there were kids set up outside their houses handing out water and granola bars (aw). A little while later, we got cheerleaded. I found it cute; Greg felt patronized.

go free spirits! get there when you get there!

Don't be too impressed but we managed to walk 3 miles in under an hour, which is just slower than the average person not in a race walks on a hot day going uphill.

did it!

Finally, the sweet, sweet finish line...

And the results...

at the last second, I sprinted ahead yelling "I beat Greg! I beat Greg!"

Jenny and Erin got out of being timed because they signed up on the day of. Cheaters.

Afterwards, we hung around for the medal ceremony (yes, there were medals) and then went out to lunch and cupcakes.

Sunny day walks and cupcakes? Maybe I like living in the suburbs.