jumping off diving board**This post is syndicated with The Levison Group and originally appeared in various publications across the U.S.**

It’s summertime and the living’s easy. Well, maybe the living isn’t easy but it’s definitely summertime.

Summer is my favorite time of year and lounging at the pool is one of my favorite pastimes, and not just because there’s a great concession stand. However, I can never escape my legal tendencies, even at the pool, and every year when I go I think about the legalities behind it.

People undoubtedly injure themselves every year at their local swimming hole. From belly flops to slip and falls, the pool most certainly has its fair share of lawsuits.

So why is it that none of us sign a waiver when we’re admitted? Obviously the pool hasn’t hired me as their lawyer because if it did it would require everyone to sign a waiver before accessing the pool.

I’ve thought about what it should include, and here is my proposed waiver.

  • I agree not to run at the pool. I’m not sure why I would run around the pool as it’s all the same body of water and one part isn’t any more exciting than the other.
  • I will throw away my trash from the snack bar so ant farms don’t set up camp around the only available table. I will also agree to give the rest of my pretzel with cheese to the woman who has been eying it since I sat down.
  • I will not stand on the diving board while yelling to my friends about what kind of jump to do. I will collaborate with my friends and come to a decision about the jump before approaching the board.
  • I will not bring water guns to the pool and shoot them at unsuspecting people who didn’t want to get blasted in the face with chlorine water. I’m not sure why I would bring a gun that shoots water to be used while simultaneously standing in water.

kids at pool

  • I will not shove my body into a suit from last season and parade around the pool. I will accept that I have gained a few pounds and buy the next size up.
  • I will not spray sunscreen. I will use the stuff from the bottle because the spray sunscreen is ridiculous. I’m not that lazy.
  • I will not yell at my friends across the pool about stupid stuff.
  • I will read up-to-date magazines so I can share them with other pool goers when I’m done. Everyone deserves to be caught up on the latest celebrity gossip.
  • I will not throw a tantrum like it’s the end of the world when my parents make me leave the pool. I will come back the next day. And the next.
  • I will wear shoes in the restroom, because it’s gross not to
  •  I will ignore the fact that the lifeguards are all 16 years old and weigh 100 pounds and couldn’t even save my left foot if I was drowning.

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  • If I fall asleep at the pool I won’t snore. If I do, I understand if other pool goers move my chair away from them.
  • I will not block the exit ladder in the deep end of the pool. If I’m under 10 years old I shouldn’t be in the deep end anyway.
  • I will not talk loudly on my cell phone while laying out. I realize, however, it’s acceptable to do so only if I discuss juicy gossip on the phone and then let other pool goers in on the details.
  • I will not ask my friends whether that was a good cannon ball. It’s a cannon ball. There’s no skill.

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Maybe this waiver wouldn’t deter these behaviors from happening at the pool, but it would at least give a basis to kick people out for their idiotic behavior. Then again, if people were kicked out for violating these rules, there would be no one but me left at the pool. Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be so bad.

Hey local pool, call me.

The real pool rules

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At the Ritz in West Palm beach

Based on the title of this post, you are probably thinking I’m going to talk about Christina Aguilera’s song “Survivor” in this post.  Unfortunately, that is not the case, although I would encourage you to hum that song while you read.

Seriously.  Hum it.

As some of you may know, I’m struggling with some medical issues.  It’s not something I’ve discussed with many people, nor do I intend to.  Although most of my life is an open book, this is one of the few things I want to keep private, and I appreciate people supporting my wishes.

I’m off work for treatment and although it’s a bit early to tell if it’s working, I am confident it will.

With that said, the point of this post isn’t to talk about me, but to encourage all of you to do a few things .(One of those is obviously to hum Christina Aguilera tunes, but you should already be doing that).

First, I encourage you to know your family health history.  Many medical conditions are either genetic or conditions that run in families.  Because of this it’s important to know the medical histories of your parents, grandparents, etc., if at all possible.

My favorite spa in the world!  The Eau Spa at the Ritz Carlton in West Palm Beach, Florida.  This is my happy place.

My favorite spa in the world! The Eau Spa at the Ritz Carlton in West Palm Beach, Florida. This is my happy place.

Knowing these things can make you more aware of predispositions you may have to things, and ultimately, could save your life.

Second, I encourage you to embrace and appreciate those around you.  Okay, maybe don’t physically embrace them, as the cashier at the checkout might not find your hug quite as endearing as you would like.  You might find your way to an assault charge if you take this advice literally.

Rather, simply appreciate those around you.  Yes, it’s cold and the snow can be a pain, but it’s also beautiful and provides a brightness that is otherwise missing during the winter months.  Yes, work can be difficult but it also provides a paycheck to allow you to live your life.

Not only should you appreciate those little things around you, but appreciate your loved ones as well.  I can say from my recent experiences that my family and close friends have been invaluable to me.  Every now and then stop and take stock of your life and all the amazing people you have in it.

The women's jacuzzi room at the Eau Spa.  The shower changes colors and the lounge chairs are heated stone that contour to your body.

The women’s jacuzzi room at the Eau Spa. The shower changes colors and the lounge chairs are heated stone that contour to your body.

I’ve never been so grateful for my husband as I have been these past few months.  I’ve realized some of the friends I have are the best friends anyone could ever ask for. I’m not sure I would have come to that conclusion until now, and I’m grateful this has made me aware of it.

Although I’m certainly upset with my diagnosis, among other things, it’s shown me  how many amazing people I have in my life.  It’s sad that something had to happen to demonstrate that to me, but I’m glad I’ve had that realization.

I’m hoping to impart that to you.  Don’t wait for something bad to come into your life.  Tell the people who matter how much they mean to you.  They need to know, and you need to realize just how much amazing people can impact your life.

I will get through this time and emerge a stronger woman on the other side.  I’m confident of that, but only because I have such an amazing group of people supporting me.

My father had a brain tumor several years ago.  The doctors weren’t hopeful but operated anyway, as they had nothing to lose.  Fortunately, my father survived and has been cancer-free for 25 years.

I have no idea how my dad fought through that, especially with the added stress of being self-employed and having a wife and children to support.  I also have no idea how my mom made it through that time.  Both of them are stronger than I will ever be.

My feet in one of the reflection pools

My feet in one of the reflection pools

With that said, I know I can do this.  If my parents could get through such a grim diagnosis, I can certainly deal with mine and move forward with my life.  So can you.  So can anyone.

I truly believe the positive attitude they have is part of what led to his successful treatment.  The love and support of others was also a big component as well.

A few years ago, his only sibling was diagnosed with cancer as well.  She also went through successful treatment and is still the amazing woman she was before her diagnosis.

I tell you these stories not only to demonstrate how awesome my family is, but for two reasons.  First, to demonstrate how important knowledge of your family medical history can be.

I'm thankful for the beach.  It's truly where I'm the happiest.

I’m thankful for the beach. It’s truly where I’m the happiest.

Both siblings had a cancer diagnosis, which is certainly telling that it can run in the family.  Sure, this could be a coincidence, but based upon other family history, I suspect it is not.

Second, this story demonstrates the importance of enjoying each moment and cherishing those around you.  We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and all we can do is live for today.  Enjoy every possible moment with your loved ones.

Enjoy your pets, the taste of a good dinner and the fresh air outside.  Soak in every wonderful moment of life, as you never know what the future could bring.

I’m grateful for my husband.  He’s been the most amazing and understanding person and I couldn’t go through this without him.  I’m thankful for my family, who knows and understands what I’m going through, and is always there to support me.

I’m grateful for my friends.  Although only those closest to me know my struggles, I’m overwhelmed with the support they’ve shown.  My dearest friends show support and love everyday, from going with me for frozen yogurt to just sitting with me when I need that.

lisa at beach

Life really is a beach…especially if you’re on one!

I’m grateful for my dogs, as they have been the best snuggle buddies a girl could ever ask for.  I’m grateful for my employer, who has been nothing short of amazing with me taking time off.

I’m also thankful for each of you.  Knowing you enjoy reading what I write is so rewarding.  There’s nothing better than when someone tells me my writing made their day.  If you’ve ever done that, allow me to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Maybe this random post is just to encourage you to enjoy your life, pay attention to those people and things that matter, and forget the rest.  Life is too short to get caught up in trivial things that don’t matter.  It’s not worth your time or your energy.

I’d like to think that when I pass, my eulogy won’t be about how I was a lawyer, worked hard, and made a good life for myself.  I’d like to think it will be about how I lived my life for every moment and how I saw the humor in situations.

I’m taking that advice now, and will move forward with smiles and laughter.  Fortunately, I have amazing people who will help make that happen.  I encourage all of you to do the same.

Now go download Christina Aguilera.

I'm a survivor

ambushed.jpg<<<<<<<I’m re-posting this one, as it happened over Christmas, but it’s one of my all-time favorite stories, and it’s such a funny memory.  I think you will enjoy, assuming you like pubes humor.

If you don’t like humor about pubes, you probably shouldn’t be reading this blog anyway…

ENJOY!>>>>>>>

Beautiful, right?

Beautiful, right?

Yes, I realize that brilliant graphic above and the title of this post isn’t how you spell “ambushed.”  I was trying to give you a hint as to what this blog post would be about, and I wanted to do it creatively, because I’m awesome that way.

Hopefully you can look past the spelling and look to the hilarity of the story.  You should, because the story is amaze-balls.

And before we go any further, how awesome is my drawing for this one?  I did it on Paint and it only took me an hour.  I’m so talented.

Every year, Matt and I go to Mexico to celebrate the Christmas holiday.  By “celebrate” we mean we lay in the sun all day, drink fruity drinks, and occasionally look at each other and say “Oh crap, its Christmas!  I totally forgot!”

We don’t go to Mexico because we don’t like Christmas; we just don’t like cold weather, or obligatory functions, or any kind of holiday that requires purchasing gifts.  (If you have a job and/or a bank account, you can buy yourself a gift.  I’m not waiting in line to get you a gift card to Starbucks.  FYI.)

drinks on the beachThis year was no different and we spent the holidays lounging on the beach, silently passing judgment on people as they walked by. (Sometimes not so silently, depending on the quantity and potency of the cocktails.)

We don’t do this to be mean, but mostly just to entertain ourselves, and because there are some seriously freaky people in this world…or at least in Puerto Vallarta over the holidays.

A few days ago I was scanning my surroundings, just taking in the scenery.  Okay, so what I was really doing was looking around for the waiter on the beach to check on the status of my refill of my Bahama mama drink.

He was nowhere to be found (probably/hopefully because he was making me another drink).  Instead of finding the waiter, I found something far better.

A young woman, probably in her early 20s, was walking up the beach from the water.  She was skinny and wearing a tiny bikini.  As I looked at her, I noticed something on her crotch area.  Immediately, I suspected she somehow got seaweed caught on her leg while she was in the ocean.

Because I’m a super caring person (and because I wanted to check on my drink status), I decided to get up  further investigate.  I figured if she had seaweed on her lady parts, she would probably want to know so she could remove it.  It’s the least I could do.

photo credit: jenny downing via photopin cc

photo credit: jenny downing via photopin cc

Oh god, how I wish it was seaweed on the inner parts of her legs.  If only….

As I approached, I realized it wasn’t seaweed, but rather an explosion of pubic hair coming out of her bikini and crawling down her legs.

I say it was crawling because I swear it was alive and quite mobile.  I saw it swaying in the wind and immediately imagined what it would look like when she was in the water.

The movement of it would most likely be confused by a snorkeling 10 year old as a different kind of seaweed.

It looked like it was busting out of her bikini bottom, as if it was trying to escape the constraints of her tiny cotton suit.  I could almost hear it gasping for air, or at least for a good shampoo and conditioner.

Naturally, I alerted my husband immediately.  I feel like this is one of those obligations a wife has to her husband.

In addition to honoring and cherishing, blah blah blah, I think there’s something in the vows about promising to alert your husband at the sighting of out of control bush at a beach.

photo credit: •●pfaff via photopin cc

photo credit: •●pfaff via photopin cc

If it isn’t in the vows, it should be, because that’s the kind of stuff that can break up a marriage otherwise.  I’m a caring wife that way.

Matt’s reaction was similar to mine.  He was horrified and happy, all at the same time.  We were both completely intrigued and decided to try to get a closer look.  Who was this creature who felt so uninhibited as to display her female whiskers.

Also, we wanted to make sure we took our camera to capture a photo of this remarkable sighting.  After all, I’m a journalist and this was just the kind of investigation you, my readers, depend upon.

I failed.  Just FYI so you don’t get all excited about seeing a photo of an untamed bush, and then you get disappointed when you don’t find it.  Part of you knew I would fail because I’m not really that great of a journalist, and I think posting photos of a stranger’s bush might put my blog into a porn category.

I’m not ready for that kind of traffic yet, so for now, you’re going to have to use your imagination.  Plus, this isn’t that kind of blog.  I try to keep it classy, people.

As we got closer to her, we confirmed what we already knew.  It was an overgrown forest between her legs.

No, it wasn’t a forest, it was a goddamn jungle.  Perhaps she wasn’t capable of trimming or removing it because it was just too strong…like maybe it was the Hulk Hogan of pubic hair.  I wondered if it wore a bandanna and called everyone “brother.”

bush.jpg

Please note the image is an artist rendering.  It’s not an actual photo.

I could only imagine what kind of sheers would be needed to slay that dragon down south.  Perhaps that’s why it was so out of control.  No razor could tame it.

No blade would step up to the task.  What she needed was Arthur from Disney’s beloved “The Sword in the Stone.”  Perhaps he was the only thing strong enough to tame that mane.

*Of note:  Arthur is also known in the movie as “Wart” which poses an interesting question about whether the massive bush was hiding something more serious…like herpes.  It also demonstrates my uncanny knowledge of Disney movies and characters.

Perhaps the only thing that would knock out a mass of hair that size would be a fire.  But then again, if she used that method, she would have a burning bush, and I don’t think that’s what Moses was talking about in the Bible.  However, he was in the dessert sand, so perhaps there’s some truth to this theory…

We approached cautiously, careful not to alarm it. I couldn’t help but say “It looks like she has two dead animals plastered to the sides of her legs.”

I bet two dead animals would smell better than what she’s got going on down there,” was my humble husband’s response.  I suspect he wasn’t wrong.

Blond Boy Crying

We followed her flowing fringe until “Miss Bush” arrived at her destination.  Unfortunately, it was not the salon for a wax.  Rather, she met up with her “friends” who were lounging on chairs on the beach.  The reason I use the term “friends” so loosely is because anyone who lets another person go out in public with pubic hair like that, is no friend at all.

Am-BUSHEDBut her friends got what they deserved, because she began talking to them while continuing to stand…while they continued to lounge in their chairs.  This provided a front row viewing of the lady mustache she was sporting.  (I just made up that term “lady mustache.”  Let’s make that a thing.)

It was obvious by their faces that her friends were aware of the vagina wig.  (There’s another one! “Vagina wig” is pure gold!  I can’t stop with creating these slang terms!)

But funnier than the faces of her friends staring down the barrel of her beard, was the face of the clearly traumatized 14 year old boy standing nearby.  I’m completely serious.

Matt and I had to stifle our laughter at that poor, tortured soul who was horrified and wanted to look away, but couldn’t find the strength to turn away from the lady sideburns.

(That’s it.  I’m going on the road with this act and all the names I’m making up for a woman’s bush.)

I wanted to comfort the poor lass, and tell him not all women’s genitalia looked like the base player from Guns ‘N’ Roses.  (Slash may have been an ugly dude, but he knew how to stroke that guitar.)

I also wanted to give him this month’s edition of Playboy to show him what classy pubic hair look like, but Matt left it on the plane for an uncomfortable stewardess to find.  (He finds this prank hilarious.  He also likes to whip it out in the middle of the flight and make the person next to him extremely uncomfortable.  And I’m talking about whipping out the Playboy magazine, not something else, you perv.)

It was at that point that we decided to go back to our lounge chairs and stop staring at the freak show of frizz.  It was starting to look angry and I swear that thing waved at me as we walked by.

We returned to our lounge chairs stunned and scarred from what we just viewed.  We knew we would never be the same, and for as long as we lived, the Mexico Christmas vacation of 2012 would forever be known to us simply as “Bushapalooza.”  We’re having t-shirts made.

113It’s summer time, which means it’s time to hit the pool instead of hitting the gym.

Yeah right, like I hit the gym the rest of the year.

If did, I probably would enjoy the pool a bit more.  Hence, my theory for how to survive the swimsuit season.  Read about it here.  It’s an awesome idea.  (Duh).

So now that you’re equipped to go to the pool and not feel bad about how you look in a swimming suit (because you read my post), you need a few more staples.

Not stomach staples.  You look great the way you are.  Didn’t you read my swimsuit theory?

Read about the five things you need to take to the pool here.  Yes, I’m making you go to another site.  Deal with it.

You know you’d click just about anywhere to learn about what to take to the pool.  So one more click!

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http://www.inthepowderroom.com/read/me-time/2013-06-a-summer-survival-kit-for-the-pool.html

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Kissing at receptionFor those of you who read my blog regularly, you know that I frequently talk about my husband.  That poor guy puts up with so much of my abuse.  But then again, so do you, my dear reader.

Why do you read this blog again?  No seriously.  Why?  Send me an email and tell me.

Anyway, I know with every one of the posts I write about funny stuff my husband says, you’re wondering “How does she do it? How does she have such a happy marriage?”

I know you’re also wondering when Matt will wise up and realize he can do better and there’s plenty of other women out there who don’t fart like guys.

I’m wondering the same thing.  I’ll just stock up on air freshener until then and hope he doesn’t figure that out.

snapshot of getting marriedSince I regale you with random information that’s not at all useful, I’ve decided to switch it up and make this a useful and informative post.  Yeah, I know.  I’m trying something new and different.  Don’t get used to it.

Without making you wait any longer (mostly because I know you have short attention spans), here are Lisa Newlin’s secrets to a happy marriage.

These tips work for me, and they may work for you too.  But then again, do you really want to take advice from a chick who thinks watching The World’s Strongest Man on a Saturday night is a perfect date night?

Whatever. Just look at the pretty pictures and read it anyway.

close up of getting married 1.  Fear

Your husband should always be at least a little scared of you.  No more than 10% though.  Anything more than that would just make you a bitch.

2.  Compromise

This is done on his part only.  Your compromise is dealing with his wet towel on the floor every day of his existence, so you can’t be expected to compromise on which pizza joint you will patronize for dinner too.

You’re far too important for that.

0753.  Let him know you’re the boss

Can he have a guy’s night watching The Fast and the Furious and playing X-box?  Of course he can (assuming the parents of the 9 year-olds down the street are cool with it too.)

But don’t let him know you’re totally fine with getting him out of the house for a couple of hours.  Build suspense for a while, and he may just try to bribe you.

That leads me to my next point…

walking after wedding4.  Bribe him

To quote Martha Stewart*, “It’s a good thing.”  Granted, she is usually referring to making garden tools out of spaghetti and toilet paper rolls when she says that, but the phrase applies here as well.

Society tries so hard to convince us that bribery is a bad thing, what with all the scandals and whatnot.  However, bribing works.  Just ask the mafia.

*Note:  Don’t quote Martha Stewart when it comes to stock advice.

5.  Hire a cleaning lady (or man)

I’m not picky about the gender.  Either way, hire someone else to clean the house.  Lord knows you don’t want to do it, as you’re too busy bribing him, making him compromise, and letting him know you’re the boss.

Plus, it’s pretty hard to impart fear in someone when you’re elbow-deep in toilet water.

Now go and prosper and be happily married.  You can send your thank you gifts directly to me.  Cash is best.  Or burritos.  If you send cash, I’ll use it to buy burritos.

 

Secrets to happy marriage

(RECIPE AT THE BOTTOM OF OF THIS POST)

Back CameraThis Memorial Day, my friend St. Frick (not his real name), invited us to his house for a pool party.  St. Frick is known for his ability to throw amazing parties (and his ability to shove five profane words into a sentence comprised of only three words.  It’s a talent).

We knew we would be in for a good time and we knew the only logical answer was to tell him we would be there.

We arrived at his place and discovered he and some other friends were already in the pool.  Judging by the various beer cans strewn about, they also appeared to have started the party without us (although I still contend a party doesn’t start until I arrive).

I immediately headed to the pool house to grab some libations and catch up with our friends.  I opened the refrigerator and this is what I saw:

At first I thought they were sliced lemons, which would go nicely with my Grey Goose, but upon closer inspection I realized they weren’t lemons, but Jello shots in a lemon rind.

Is that what it’s called?  A rind?

I was beside myself with joy.

Back CameraI decided to try one of them immediately.  After all, I didn’t want to be rude.  I was his guest and I was raiding his fridge to see what free stuff I could find.

What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t do a Jello shot (or three)?

They were delicious.  I decided to have a few more and bring them poolside for others to enjoy.  They were refreshing and alcohol laden, which are two of my favorite things.

I grabbed a couple more and sat on the edge of the pool.  It was like I was being healthy and eating fruit by the pool…if fruit was made of three parts gelatin and two parts vodka.  (If it was, I would eat a lot more fruit).

What kind of person comes up with this idea?  Obviously an awesome person.  I just didn’t know who would be brilliant enough to come up with this recipe.

Normally, if I’m motivated enough to make Jello, it’s done in a dirty bowl with cracks at the bottom courtesy of the time one of my dogs used it as a chew toy.

Don’t judge.  The bowl still works…just think twice about eating Jello when you come to my house…and watch for dog hair.

Back CameraDo you see these amazing Jello shots?  Look how perfectly sliced they are!

Upon closer inspection, I was amazed to discover there were no slices of skin on them, nor were there bloody lemon peels (or rinds.  Are we calling them rinds?).

Maybe it’s just me, but I’m pretty sure I would slice a finger straight off if I was going to slice up these lemon Jello shots.

Naturally, it would be my husband’s finger I sliced, and not mine.  After all, he would be the one holding the lemons while I sliced them.

After several Jello shots, a girl can’t be expected to hold the lemons steady.

Oh yeah, I may have forgotten to mention that when I make Jello shots I’m usually wasted on several of the shots by the time we get to the slicing portion of the recipe.

But everyone is like that, right?

recycleAs if these delicious gems of goodness weren’t already perfect, I realized there was another plus to them.  They are environmentally friendly!

You know my love of animals and of this beautiful planet (which is made even more beautiful by the presence of Jake Gyllenhaal and Andrew Garfield).

So with this recipe I can load up on liquor without feeling guilty about the environment.

I don’t need to be worried about filling the landfill with little Jello shots cups (mostly because when I eat these I will be too blitzed to think straight).

Actually,I’m probably helping the environment by doing Jello shots this way.  I am using biodegradable material for good use, while also supporting recycling.

I’m so considerate.

This is yet another way to give back to Mother Earth while drinking to excess.  Who knew being an environmentalist would be so fun?

The best lemon jello shotsDoes this mean I can stop shaving my arm pits?

Another bonus to these shots is that neighbors going through my trash (or just looking out their window to see me sprawled out on the lawn), won’t judge me for the large amount of plastic containers strewn about me and my body.

Rather, they will assume my drinking caught up with me and my liver finally gave out.  This makes for a peaceful afternoon nap on the front lawn…the perfect way to spend a Saturday.

What’s that you say?  Your neighbors don’t go through your trash?  Sure.

Whatever.  Keep telling yourself that, but do yourself a favor and go outside some night and see if your Us Weekly magazines are still in your trash can.

My guess is they’re not, as the nosy neighbor down the street wants to keep up with the Kardashians but can’t afford a magazine subscription (or cable…or the internet….those fricking Kardashians are everywhere).

So since I’m totally awesome and you guys are just dying to know how these Jello shots are made, I will tell you.  It’s actually fairly easy.  Here it goes:

RECIPE

1.  Cut several lemons in half. (You can also uses oranges, limes or watermelons)
2.  Scoop out the insides of each half lemon so it’s hollow.  (I suggest dumping the insides of the lemon into a large container of Grey Goose and water.)
3.  Make Jello as per the instructions.  (If you are making this for a party that I will be attending, please multiply the alcohol content by two.  Who am I kidding?  Multiply it by three.)
4.  Pour the liquid Jello into the halves, making sure not to overfill them.
5.  Place the lemon halves in muffin pans to hold them upright.
6.  Place the lemon halves in the refrigerator and allow the Jello to set.
7.  Once the Jello is done,  remove the lemon halves and slice the halves into smaller pieces.

Yes, it’s that easy.  I know.  Can you believe it?

And if you make this recipe, I will require you to bring over the equivalent of three whole lemons of Jello shots.

You didn’t think you were going to get this recipe entirely for free, did you?

311

It’s the holiday weekend, which marks the beginning of summer, or as I like to call it, the beginning of BBQ season.

Summertime is the perfect excuse to always have french onion dip in your fridge, and at least 3 bags of Ruffles potato chips in the cupboard.

Okay, since it’s not 1932 and you don’t have a cupboard, you can keep them in your pantry.

But with all the fun of the summer months also comes the dreadful swim suit debacle.

Questions like “why didn’t I start a diet in January?” or “why do I eat so many carbs?” or “how is 2 Broke Girls still on the air?” regularly float through my head this time of year.

Seriously, who watches that show?

A better way to view theWith the dreaded bathing suit season comes the thought of dieting, hunger, and the inevitable bad mood that follows when you cut off access to this girl’s carbs.

However, this year I have a different point of view to the bathing suit season.

Instead of starving myself and forcing those around me to become alcohol dependent, as that is the only way to deal with me when I’m trying to eat less than 3,000 calories a day, I’ve come up with a new approach.

Isn't this a better site to see on the beach than flabby thighs?

Isn’t this a better site to see on the beach than flabby thighs? (I’m sure she’s reading Immanuel Kant….or maybe it’s just a book with pretty pictures. Where’s Waldo may be over her head.)

I’m not going to focus on how I look in a bathing suit. I’m going to focus on those around me and how they look in said bathing suit.  (Not mine.  They can wear their own suits.)

I realize this doesn’t immediately make sense, but neither does Justin Beiber getting another album.  Bear with me.

I’ve decided that during the summer months when I’m lounging by the pool, I’m only going to surround myself with skinny people with awesome bodies.

Yes, you read that right.

I am willingly going to be the fattest person in my entourage instead of realizing halfway through the day that I’m the lovable fat friend and the only one in the group wearing Spanx and still looking overweight.

Instead, I’m going to embrace it and make a conscious effort to be around only skinny people.

The reason?  No, I’m not a masochist, although for some reason I continue to buy the Greek veggie dip telling myself every time “this time it’s gonna be good.”

Aside from that form of self torture, I’m not really into that.

But I figure if I surround myself with skinny people who look good at the pool, my view for the day will be delightful.

These chicks seem pumped about the idea.

These chicks seem pumped about the idea.

As far as the eye can see I will view attractive, bronzed bodies with minimal cellulite and the ability to walk without their legs rubbing together.

It will be perfection!

After all, I’m not the one who has to stare at flabby arms and a gut filled with Chipotle…that’s my friends who have to do that!  Suckas!!!!

I think this idea is fool proof and it will be effective immediately.

I realize this seems like discrimination, but I like to think of it as a beautification requirement where I am surrounded by “happy little bodies,” which are much like the “happy little trees” Bob Ross used to paint, although hopefully these bodies will have less bush.

Yes, I really just made that joke.  Low brow?  Yes.  Hilarious?  Also yes.

So if I ask you to go to the pool with me this summer, you should take it as a compliment.

Aside from the fact you will have the honor of chilling with me poolside and partaking in my awesome snacks, of which you can only have one, you should also be happy to know that I consider you a hard body who will make me feel better about myself.

And isn’t that really what friendships are all about?

Rental carI recently went to Florida for vacation.  Okay, it wasn’t vacation so much as it was a “If I don’t get out of here I’m going to lose my mind” trip.

I take those pretty regularly, as I’m frequently on the verge of losing my mind.  You should know that if you read this blog.  Actually, if you read this blog, you most likely believe I’ve already lost it.

It’s not an illogical assumption.

IMG_3472

This is the kind of view I need when I work. Not a homeless man peeing on the sidewalk.

Whenever I go to Florida I rent a car.  I don’t need anything flashy, as I like to keep a low profile.  I don’t want to draw attention to myself in my tankini and pale legs.

I usually rent the cheapest car there is, which frequently doesn’t include power windows.  It’s okay.  I need the work out.

This trip was no difference, and I got a sweet ride, complete with automatic windows AND automatic locks.  I was ballin’.

I like to go to the same beach every day.  It’s down a long strip on A1A, which is Beachfront Avenue.  I’m confident the beach I frequent is the area Vanilla Ice sang about in his catchy tune that was completely stolen from David Bowie.

I drove around forever in my rented ride, feeling every bump and pothole in my less-than-luxurious automobile.  I finally located a spot on the street and parallel parked that bad boy.

street with cars

Who could find anything on a street like this?

I’m an amazing parallel parker.  This has nothing to do with the story, but I felt it was relevant.

I pumped approximately $20.00 into the meter, because I knew this particular municipality would give you a ticket if you were even one second over your expired time.

As always, I had a million things running through my head, so I grabbed everything I needed and scurried away to the beach for some relaxation.

Just kidding.  I scurried away to the beach to work, but it felt better than sitting in a stuffy office.

After several hours on the beach, I headed back to the car, excited to use my automatic unlocking device.  One problem:  I had no idea where my car was.

Sure, I could walk up and down and look for it…if I knew what it looked like.  I didn’t.

In all the rush of getting the car and getting to the beach, I completely forgot to pay attention to the type of car I rented.

Things like color, make, size and model were details I suddenly wished I would have noted. It was time for some investigative work.

lisa with key

My only clue…the key to finding my car. Pun intended.

Looking at the keys told me it was a Toyota.  Great.  It’s not like that was one of the most popular cars on the road.  Yeah, that wouldn’t be difficult to find.

So I did what anyone would do in that situation.  I walked up and down the street clicking the unlock button, looking for my rental car and hoping the battery in the clicker was good.

Fortunately, the fine automobile I rented had a charged battery in the clicker, and I was finally able to locate my rental car.  It’s a Toyota Yaris, in case you were wondering.

Make no mistake, that’s something I won’t forget anytime soon.

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I named her Helen.
Isn’t that parallel parking job awesome?

Everybody loves Howard Stern. And by “everybody,” I mean probably about half of the population. The other half wants to chop off what are most likely disgustingly old and sagging balls and shove them down his throat.

Photo from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Howard_Stern

Photo from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Howard_Stern

I don’t really have a preference, although I agree he probably has disgusting balls. I fall somewhere in between wanting to have a beer with the guy (only if he’s buying), and wanting to feed him a scrotum sandwich with an extra dose of women’s rights.

I don’t know how to transition into this next part of the story so I’m just telling you I’m transitioning now, which is probably just making it worse. Follow along.

I’m currenty in South Florida, pretending like I’m a baller and not convincing anyone. I’m a horrible actress and I don’t think asking if they serve “Two-Buck Chuck” wine helped sell my story. (They don’t.) But a hey, girl’s gotta dream.

This afternoon I walked through the enormous lobby of the Ritz Carlton in West Palm Beach. In an effort to look important, (and to hide the fact I was wearing sunglasses from the dollar store), I looked at my iPhone as I briskly walked through the lobby. I wanted people to think I was reading important emails, when what I was really doing was checking to see if Amanda Bynes had any new Twitter updates.

SIDE NOTE: If you are not following her on Twitter, do it now. What’s wrong with you?

I quickly realized I couldn’t read and walk at the same time, so I headed for a comfortable looking couch to rest. I almost reached my safe place when I smacked into what I thought was a wooden mop with a black head.

I looked up, expecting to see the janitor and his cleaning supplies. As I lifted my head from my very important correspondence (tweet) I wondered why a janitor was bringing the cleaning equipment through the main lobby area. Didn’t he know very important people were tweeting in there?

And then I saw who it was.

It was fricking Howard Stern…all 92 pounds of him….

Frickety Frick!

I apologized in my best “I’m totally wealthy and I know who you are and don’t care because I’m really rich” voice. I don’t think he bought it. Or if he did, he wouldn’t have been willing to pay more than the dollar I paid for my sunglasses.

Immediately I cursed myself for not buying the fancy sunglasses at Target for $19.99. Had I known I would bump into America’s raunchiest/funniest radio host, I would have splurged. Once again, my love of bargains screwed me over!

He shuffled away with this wife Beth, who looked adorable in her floppy hat that probably cost more than my mortgage.

They both walked away and I realized that collectively they weighed as much as I did.

You know I’m not a good photo journalist, but you guys push me to be better, so here’s the best I could do without looking like a total freak show chasing him to his room with my iPad.

Isn't Beth adorable?

Isn’t Beth adorable?

 

Howard Stern in the hiz-ouse!

Howard Stern in the hiz-ouse!

Howard and Beth are looking to move to South Florida to avoid taxes in NYC, so says the word on the street (which is really just my Google search.) I don’t know if that’s true, but if they decide to move to Florida, do you think they will be looking for a roommate?

It could be just like “Three’s Company.” I would even be willing to be the super-annoying Janet and Matt could be the always dapper Mr. Roper.

Come and knock on our door, Howard! We’ll be waiting for you!

 

My husband can be a funny guy at times. Granted, most of the time he doesn’t realize he’s being funny, but those are the times he’s at his best. It’s not that he’s funny because of the jokes he tells. I assure you, he is not. Actually, if my husband asks to tell you a joke, punch him in the jeans and run away immediately. Seriously. It’s for your own good.

Despite his inability to master the “knock knock” joke, he has an ability to make me laugh at the most random times. It’s one of the things I love most about him. So because I love you guys so much (and because I don’t have time to write a full blog post tonight because I’m super busy and important), I’ve decided to let you in on some of my husband’s recent statements that made me laugh.

*Please note that none of these statements are ones that made me want to run to the divorce lawyer and take him for his entire collection of old and stained movie posters. (They are stained from water basement from the damage, you perverts!) A blog post about those statements will be saved for another day. Somehow, those statements also manage to make me laugh, which is probably just pathetic.

**Please also note that all of these statements were said innocently by him, and not a single one of them were said ironically or with the intent of getting a laugh from me. I’m sad about that part, but it’s the truth. He was completely genuine in each one of these examples. Every. Single. One.

1. Mr. Obvious

Matt: “I hit my elbow!”

Me: “Where?”

Matt: “On the pointy part!”

Yeah, because I definitely want to know where exactly on your elbowyou hit your elbow. The very use of the word “elbow” tells me exactly where you hurt yourself. I want to know what object caused you pain, mostly so I can ensure that object is in the way the next time you tell me my purse should go “in the purse spot.”

2. Mathematician

Me (while standing in the pool on vacation): “How much of this pool is pure urine?”

Matt (while also standing in the pool): “I don’t know, but I’ve contributed to it.”

At least he’s honest. And who am I kidding? I contributed to it too.

3. Ghetto Superstar

Matt: “Soledad O’Brien is my home girl.”

 

I feel like I don’t even need to explain this one. She clearly is his home girl, and I’m totally cool with that. Of course, it would have been more appropriate if he was watching her on TV at the time, or if there was some reference to her anywhere at the time he made this declaration. Yes, that would have been appropriate, yet that wasn’t the case.

4. Loverboy

Me (standing in the ocean hugging him): “I love you.”

Matt: “I’m peeing right now.”

See, people?! This is another reason I don’t fricking hug people! The one time I venture out and try to hug someone, they pee on me and an hour of disinfecting my body begins.

5. Motivational Speaker

Matt: “Do you want to go on a walk?”

Me: “Yeah, let’s go.”

Matt: “I don’t want to.”

Wow. This guy really knows how to make a girl happy. I’m thinking I will use this tactic the next time he wants to engage in sexy time.

6. Comedian

Matt: “I’m a funny guy, you dick!”

The word “dick” was strongly emphasized. When he strongly belted out this statement, I can assure you, I thought it was hilarious. So maybe that makes him the dick.

7. Food extraordinaire

Matt: “That thing I order here is awesome!”

Me: “What is it?”

Matt: “I don’t remember.”

Well, I guess we will just order two of those.

8. Schoolboy

Matt: “Did I ever tell you my elementary school principal looked like Kurt Russell in a wig?”

Perhaps this is true. I’m not sure, but for the sake of his principal, I hope it isn’t, as Kurt Russell does not-a-pretty-girl-make. But what was most humorous (and disturbing) about this statement, was that he made it as he was drifting off to sleep. After this observation, I immediately threw away our copy of Overboard, which sucks, because that movie rocks. (It was her money all along people!!!!!  Who saw that coming?)

9. Judge and Jury

Matt (while laying on the beach in Mexico): “Not to be a snob, but is that woman using a god….damned….flip phone?”

Speechless….

10. Fashionista

Me: “You look creepy in that skull cap.”

Matt: “It’s not a skull cap, it’s a knit cap.”

Me: “What’s the difference?”

Matt: “I don’t know.”

And there you have it; a list of unintentionally funny things my husband said recently. I could go on and on and post several more quotes from him, but it’s getting late and I need to use my flip phone to order something amazing for him for dinner.

Funny things my husband said on vacation