A rant about things i stick in my mouth.

On my way to the subway this morning, I got into a heated conversation about office food and beverage perks.
I actually have none, because the coffee in my office is the color of a really atrocious doodie and tastes like one, too.
But GET THIS.
A certain roommate of 37-55 Woodside gets FREE vitamin water, FREE fancy iced teas and... ugh, this makes me want to kill myself...
FREE GUACAMOLE!!!!

Am I worthless? Do my taste buds not matter?

I hate my life, except for i'm listening to Kelly Clarkson right now which is mildly inspirational because I bet that at one time or another she sat in a crappy cubicle just like mine and drank stinky coffee and had to use public bathrooms and make small talk with those jappy bitches at the 25 cent M&M machine. That's right! We don't even get free M&Ms!!!!

Today is kind of exciting, though because I will be attending my first official work Pot Luck fiesta lunch.
Now, you would think my obsession with the Food Network would mean i'm the next fucking Paula Dean. WROOOONG.

I wanted to dig deep into my recipe box for this one, but turns out i don't have one. So i thought hard about all of the items I know how to make that taste moderately yummy.

Brownies? No doubt I will digest them all before I even get to work.
Tuna Salad? That is just weeeeeeird. Plus, the mercury. Eh.
Cereal?
Microwavable chicken fingers??
Rolled up deli meats?!?!?!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

And that's when it came to me. One time, many a month ago, I made a fab guacamole for my 'hoorah my weird roommates are leaving for a week' party and it went over really well with the 8 drunken guests.

So i hit up my fruit man on the corner, but apparently... the Hass avocados are not in season right now!!!! Now, if you know anything about avocados, which i didn't until yesterday, I guess there are 2 kinds.

'Cado #1 is Hass and they are small and dark and creamy.


'Cado dos is FLORIDIAN. It's very large and breast-shaped and lighter green and FYI makes one shitty ass guacamole!!!!



Well, the tit-avocados are apparently in season according to the fruit man, so i bought a couple of those, a jar of the cheapest salsa i could find, and some lemon and garlic powder.

I got home. I peeled. I mashed. I salsad.

It looked like a dog got into my White Castle Crave Case and then puked it up into my disposable Tupperware.

Maybe it tastes good, I thought.

Nah. It tasted almost as raunchy as the office-poop-coffee so I discarded that bitch and had to buy some chips and pre-made guac this morning. Ugh. You try to save a buck and instead spend 10 more. The story of my life. If only my office had the free mother fucking guacamole, this never would've happened.

I'm done talking about this Pot Luck now because it starts in 15 minutes and I have some other exciting news.

I AM GOING TO THE RACHEL RAY SHOW!!!!!

YESSSSSSS, now i can say my life is complete!!!!

One night I was hanging out with this man who i would only hang out with because he bought me expensive sushi rolls on a regular basis. Anyway, we're watching Rachel and he has this creepy ass Rachel Ray fetish which i thought was nast because her boobs always looks so awkward in her tops and you know she is such a fluctuater and all, but he really wanted to stick it in her.
So i went online and we were like sweet, let's get on the Rachel Ray ticket waiting list.
AND FINALLY MY DAY HAS COME! Thank god I used my e-mail address!!!!!
Sarah and I will be attending September 12th... the first day of Rosh Hashanah. AMEN!!!

There is also a hilarious dress code which bans sequins, the color white, ugly track suits and promotes the wear of 'gem-tones'. Personally, I was thinking about wearing my YUM-O tee shirt, though. No rules about Rach-Ray apparal. Yeah, i actually have one. I was Rach for Halloween. Errr...maybe i'm the one with the fetish. Anywaaaaaaay.

I'm off to the Pot Luck now. Wish me luck.

Part 2... I hope you still care!

God, sorry. My liiiiiife.
i have no excuses this time. i've been lazy and sitting on couches and eating very questionable chinese food in massive quantities. Luckily, i attended happy hour tonight which has given me a medium sized buzz... just enough for a blog! hooooooorah...

NOW... where was i?

First of all... FIRST OF ALL
i have to tell you this

When you get off of the plane and enter the airport you must buy a $10 tourist card!!!
At first, i'm all "Ooooo tourist card. Maybe that's for discounts!"

No, no, no. that's not it. you buy the tourist card. and then 4 steps later, you hand in to a man. And then he lets you into the country.

no tour buses! no complimentary flan! Just entry... entry into a world of pork aaaaand... pork.

Our luggage actually arrived with our flight which was miraculous and off we went in a very mysterious taxi cab to the Ocean Bavaro Resort & Spa.

We arrived before check-in, and were welcomed to a buffet lunch. I wasn't all that hungry due to my airport hotdog, but mama be likin' the all-inclusive so we found ourselves face to face with a mighty skanky buffet... the same shit we'd be eating for the next 4 days.

I must say, they had some good broccoli. some good... umm.. cheese slices.


Ryan liked the weird beefy soup and the spagetti...look!


ew. gross. i'm having flashbacks.

BUT, in case you were wondering, i enjoyed a 'rhea-free week! I'd been very afraid for my intestines and butthole since the pad thai mishap a few months ago, but all was well in ye' old dominican republic. I even lost 20 pounds!!

gotchaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

After our gross meal, we probably did it. Sorry, the details are blurred. It's been like 3 weeks and I just had a few drinks but i'm guessing that's right. blah blah blah...

here comes the good stuff....

Day 2-
We lay by the pool. it's nice. it's hot. i'm tanning. i look sexy, yada .. yada.. yada...

There's this super gay activity board and Ryan is verrrry excited about his 10:30 archery.

I am very excited about my 11:00 massage in the cabana next to the pool.

So, we part ways. I'm getting massaged and it is heavenly and fucking cheap and my massage lady Maria is in love with me, i think. i'm getting rubbed, i love it and it's over at 11:30.

I mozy over to the pool area. No Ryan.
So I lay, I take a dip in the pool. I watch the old fat ladies do their water aerobics. I pick a wedgie. I drink a diet coke.

No Ryan.
Hmmmm.... think, jess. think.
Did he run off with a dominican lady?
Did he fall asleep somewhere?
Is he taking full advantage of our all-inclusive buffet?

Ahhhhh i know. He's in the internet cafe doing his fantasy baseball!!
hmmmm, no. not there either.

So i jump in the pool. float around. get out.
AND THEN HE'S RUNNING TOWARDS ME. with a tiny mush of a dominican man running behind him.

"Jess! Jess!"

right now i am thinking: Ryan won the archery competition and we will get a room upgrade and a free vacation and a million dollars!

"Jess!! MY HAND!!!!"

"I shot an arrow through my hand!"

That's right. Impossible, you thought? No, actually... possible!

Arrow through the hand. Arrrrroooooow throuuuuughhh theeeeeee haaaand.

We went to the hospital which was a nice experience and i even got to pee there which was cute because now i can say i've peed in a hospital in the dominican republic. He got some stitches and painkillers and a few "it's okay, it's okay, your hand is fine"

The rest of vacation was a mix of "ouuuuuch my hand", "mmmm that feels good" and "ewwww more pork!"

We had a mighty hellish flight home, which almost turned into no flight home. I made a poor decision and ate a Quizno's cobb salad on our connection flight and it gave me so much 'rhea i thought i might just die on American Airlines. Ryan had hand surgery last week to repair the nerve damage and has not left his couch in days. He even gets to wear a gigantic foam contraption at all times. hooooorah !?

Whatev. it was fun, though. seriously, it was.

American Airlines Can Suck My Brazilian. Part 1 of my trip to the Dominican Republic.

I know, I know. Where have I been? I suddenly remove all of my vag-hair and then that's it! I disappear without a word!

Shockingly enough, i was TOO busy this week at work to blog!! UNHEARD OF!
I accumulated 8 billion indecipherable emails while on my romantic getaway and finally, FINALLY it's friday, i'm mildly hungover and i've got 3 types of cheese under my belt. So, now i'm ready to tell you a tale.

Come with me back to last monday night. I arrive at the Jaslow residence around 9pm, sat in a pot-smoke-filled room while turning into a biatchy remote-hogging girlfriend, making all of the men in the room watch the latest episodes of top chef and confessions of a matchmaker (um, love it!!)

The alarm is set for 4:45am. That shit is whack, I say. But, our flight to the Dominican Republic departs at 7.

"Delta International!" Ryan proclaims to our driver
"Ooooooooh Delta!" I squealed. "I'm soo happy it's not Continental because of those skanky ass burgers I had on my flight to Vegas. They stunk up the plane like a White Castle!"

The check-in line is long and full of many Dominican-Republicans with huge suitcases stuffed with instant rice, toilet paper, large carnival stuffed animals, live gorillas, etc. We were the only white people! It was fun! DUNDUNDUN... until we got up to the counter.

"Confirmation Number?" asks bitch-mo-fo-ass-check-in-lady
"Ummmmmm" Ryan takes out papers from his man-bag. "Oh, these are just for travel insurance"

ME: "Why do you not have the flight info?!"

"Ok, well can i have your names?" -check-in-hooker

We give names.

"You're not on this flight!"

ME: KFSDGHSDKLGHSDKLGHSLGHSLKGHKGH !!!!!

Ryan: calls Expedia.
Ryan: looks at me weirdly
Ryan: might shit his pants
Ryan: "IT'S AMERICAN AIRLINES!!!"

It's 6am, i'm fungry, i need coffee, i have a giant suitcase that has wheels but honestly doesn't make it much easier cause those wheels are bullshit, and we need to find the AIR-TRAM and ride that shit to gate 8 or 9.

So we're hustling, man on the air-tram says gate 8, so we run run run to gate 8. AND THEN THEY TELL OUR ASSES TO GO TO GATE 9!

SO, we approach check-in at 6:07am.
AND YOU KNOW WHAT?

"It's too late. You need to check in an hour prior to departure"

FUCK YOU, SLUT.

So we wait stand-by and it's REALLY fun!!!!!
NOTTTTTTT.
it sucked a fat one, but luckily we were the last standbyers allowed on the flight. Hoorah!
Ryan is happy because now he knows he won't be denied my unbelievably hot, amazing sex.
I am happy because i'm hungry and mama be hopin' for some yummy plane-brunch type items.

No such luck. Mo-fuckers make you pay like $12 for a 3 Muskateers Bar and basically a ham & cheese hoagie was the equivalent of my utility bill!

Anyway, we arrive in San Juan safe and sound. Except for the fact that San Juan isn't our destination. So WE WAIT STAND-BY AGAIN!!!
Ryan looks all freaky and upset and his leg is doing that bounce around shit and while he's doing that i get up and buy a hot dog. Mainly because its $2 and also because it's funny to eat hot dogs in the littlest, ghettoist airport i have ever been to. Oh yeah, and there was no Au Bon Pain.

So, they're boarding our flight and the lady is like
"Jaslow? We may have 1 seat, but we might have 2. So get on this weird bus thing and they will drive you to the smallest, shittiest plane on planet earth and maybe you can go to the Dominican Republic!"

We get on the bus. We get on the plane. There are 2 seats. No one speaks English. I have to pee, but i'm afraid if i stand up the whole plane will come crashing to the ground, plus i dont even think there is a toilet facility! The flight attendant is sitting in this tiny chair in the front of the plane and laughing and saying crazy shit in Spanish and the plane is making these loud, grinding noises and they gave me some passport-control paper to fill in EXCEPT ITS ALL IN SPANISH and i didn't take Spanish in high school i took Italian!!! and Ryan is sitting 10 seats back and he definitely took Spanish in high school and I bet they are serving him Paella and shit back there cause all i'm getting is a nasty stench and that same loud noise and i might just die and so I ask the boy next to me how long he thinks it takes to get there and he doesn't answer because i think he does not speak english or he hates jews or he might throw up!!!!!

We're in the air for 30 minutes. And then we land. And then we hope and pray our luggage has arrived cause you know that shit was sitting stand-by, too.

Okay this the THE END OF PART 1 because work is basically over in 5 minutes and my ass isn't staying late for you sluts!!

STAY TUNED!