I am the captain of this ship.

Dear Diary,

This weekend the BHE and I headed to Cape May, NJ for some serious victorian shenanigans. You will note that my photos turned out sepia. I think all the victorian charm just seeps into the air and makes it look that way. Anyway, here are some highlights:

nautical stripe shirt: Ann Taylor, $30
skirt with anchor on it: J. Crew clearance, $20
captain's hat: Cape May-Lewes Ferry gift shop, $6
completely mortifying the BHE by wearing this outfit: PRICELESS



There was a pretty terrifying storm on the ferry, so thank goodness I had a giant plastic cup of cheap chardonnay to calm my nerves...

The place where we stayed was just charming as hell and had no shortage of whimsy.

We went on the ghost tour. Because we are total dorks. But not as dorky as the woman who wore the "Philadelphia Paranormal Research Center" t-shirt on the tour and who kept saying she was sorry she hadn't brought any of her "equipment". This isn't her; this is the woman who ran the tour and her 10 year-old granddaughter, who was wearing inappropriately short shorts. But I didn't take a picture of them, because that would be also inappropriate.

The arcade on the boardwalk, just because.

And finally, me in the captain's hat again, because I really think it's a good look. I took this in the parking lot of the grocery store near our house, right before the BHE insisted that I take it off because "we actually have to see these people again."

Love, Fluffy

illumiNOTi

Dear Diary,
This past weekend the BHE and I were much more social than usual. This means that we left the house MORE THAN ONCE, and not just to pick up more booze, coffee, and/or toilet paper. No, we actually socialized in public several times. There were bars, house guests, outside festivals, boutiques, rock clubs, and bloody mary brunches involved. I did so much arm-touching and ohitssooogoodtoseeyous that my face still hurts. This doesn't sound like a big deal, I know. But for the BHE and me this much activity in a weekend is rare, which has left me wondering just why that is. Because we used to be City B socialites-- Illuminati, if you will. (Ha, I flatter myself). But still. What changed?

- people except for us started having babies and/or moving
- at 32, I feel like life is over and I might as well be 40
- i got too fat for my Parisian night suit
- we got dogs
- we got a house where we can invite friends over and get drunk without having to drive home
- i'm a control freak
- i have a karaoke machine
- and a piano
- and a captian's hat for the BHE

But it was fun, and it reminded me that I am not ready yet to give up public socializing. Being "older and wiser"? That just means that instead of hoping for it, I am amused to get a compliment on my looks. And no matter what stupid outfit or accessory I decide to wear in public, and no matter how many bad jokes I make, I have the BHE to come home with me. (Romantic, no?) Seriously though, that's pretty cool.

Love, Fluffy

THIS is why...

I shouldn't have a camera in my cellphone:



Love, Fluffy

To my precious angels...

Dear my two dogs,

Let's have a little recap of the bad behaviors you exhibited when we took you with us to visit the Witch-Actions, who were gracious enough to let us bring you along (for most likely the first and last time) when we visited them a couple weeks ago. In the span of 24 hours, you:

1. Muscled in on the host dogs' food
2. Stuck your faces in the dishwasher
3. Tried to jump into the lily pond, taking the rocks surrounding it with you
4. Also drank out of the lily pond
5. Charged into the hosts' bedroom unannounced at 7:30 AM
6. Were general pains in the ass
7. Made us apologize for your bad behavior about 900 times.

I would like you to take a cue from Mel's little Monty. Look how he sits so nicely and politely, even when he's in a new and exciting environment. Look, he's not destroying anything, running away from his owner, humping his own face, jumping into fountains... none of that. He is a perfect little gentleman.

So, let's work on being more like Monty, less like Marley. Kthx.

Love, Mom

I, Narcissa

Dear Diary,

I was up much of the night last night worrying about disappointing people. For as snarky, vain, and irreverent as I may be, I am actually a highly sensitive person. I try very hard to be a good friend, a good sister, a good wife, a good aunt, a good daughter, a good co-worker, a good citizen (OK maybe not so much that one) and a good person generally. I like to try and keep everyone happy.

But perhaps this is where I get into trouble. Because keeping everyone happy all the time is really all about having people like you, isn't it? I love attention of most every sort (except the kind from the creepy old security guard at my place of business), I love to be loved, and anyone who has known me for over, hmm, an hour knows that. Flattery will get you everywhere with me. So why do I try so hard to maintain all my relationships (which is hard, because I have scads of people whom I consider close friends and therefore stay in regular communication with), and become so tortured and heartbroken when I feel that I may have failed?

It's because I'm a narcissist. Isn't it.

Anyway, enough about that. Now about THIS: We were watching this special on PBS about Niagara Falls the other night, about how the falls are so romantic and honeymooney and getting-it-on inducing. So is it any coincidence, then, that Viagra rhymes with Niagara? Hmm.

Love, Fluffy

Sexy Grandma Strikes Again

Dear Diary,

I thought that we were safe from the awkward flirting on the Today show, now that Katie Couric is long gone. But sadly, no. Meredith Viera had a cringe-inducing exchange with Clive Owen this morning. First she asked him if he had to wear tights in his new movie, and then she said, "I think you're likable as a person, and as a gentleman..." and practically fell in his lap when she went to shake his hand. It was completely repulsive.

Keep your theraputic hose on, grandma. Poor Clive...

Love, Fluffy

My Better Half

Dear Diary,

Have I mentioned lately how dreamy the BHE is? Look at him here, tossing back that coca-cola like he don't give a fuck.

And check out his tough-guy prison tattoo (why yes, it IS Elvis with batwings.)

Just wanted to show off my hunky husband. And embarrass him a little while I'm at it...

Love, Fluffy