WHOOOOHOOO! I am so proud to announce my best friend’s spin-off blog to Naked Thanks: Naked Fan Mail. Julie (or Julia if you didn’t know her since she was in braces and a back-brace for scoliosis like I have), is baring her soul via a 365-day letter writing campaign (like Karin and me), but as you’ll see, her letters are a little more Hollywood…
ENJOY and check her out! The web address is super catchy: www.nakedfanmail.com (Doesn’t the word NAKED make everything easier to remember?!)
I think I was spoiled at a young age by being best friends with Julie. She’s hilarious. She’s been in many of my posts — I thank her for things like joining me on a quest to stalk all the hot boys in Erie, PA with a platter of insanely decorated Christmas cookies and entertaining the troops with her filthy jokes overseas. However, she makes cameos in tons of my notes — because it seems like every crazy plan I’ve ever had (like sealing the pores of my armpits shut or curing my wrinkles by consuming massive amounts of flax oil), she’s been in on.
As a child, I don’t even think Julie meant to be funny, but in doing things like wearing gigantic Sally Jesse Raphael red glasses that she was constantly getting bubble gum stuck all over and telling the director of our sailing camp to “go f*ck” himself — she’s always been one of the most hilarious people I know.
In fact, since having her as my best friend, I literally can’t stomach being friends with people who are not funny. If a person doesn’t have a sense of humor, then, um, well, it’s almost like I categorize them with social misfits and serial killers. The chances of me pursuing a friendship with an individual who can’t make me laugh is akin to me attempting to wax my bikini line with just a pair of tweezers: never in a million years. (Again, another reason why I’m so grateful to have met such friendly and FUNNY people here in Delaware! Like the girl who recently left Depends on my door!!)
Anywho. I’m pleased to announce Julie is starting a spin-off blog to Naked Thanks, called Naked Fan Mail. Like Karin and I have done for the past year, Julie will be “baring her soul” but she’ll be doing it through good natured celebrity fanaticism rather than thank you notes (so very fitting for her status as a LA-resident). Plus, as a stand-up comedian, I’m sure she’ll keep us all in stitches with her witty observations on Hollywood and pop culture.
Happy to pass the naked baton to you, Jul!!! Readers: stay tuned for the link on Wednesday!
Julie's been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We bonded as young children over the fact that both our mothers cut our hair with butter knives and dressed us like boys. I'm honored she's doing a spin-off to Naked Thanks!
The morning after complaining at my book club about how I pee 100 times per day as a pregnant woman, I went out on my front porch to find a pretty little package waiting for me on the stoop. When I opened it up, lovingly wrapped in pink tissue paper, were several pairs of Depends with a note from a girlfriend explaining how I should give ‘em a try for the tail end of my pregnancy. I laughed out loud. Then I thought: Wow. That’s what friends are for. Who else would deliver me adult diapers like some sort of Bladder Fairy Kris Kringle?
Moving to Delaware has been great. It’s like that little song my mom taught me as a kid, “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold.” I miss my friends back in DC, however, I’ve still seen them a bunch and we talk daily. It’s the same thing for my girlfriends in other cities — yeah, I don’t see them as much as I want, but I still appreciate their randoms filthy text messages saying stuff like, “Happy Mole Day, Beeotch!” Out of sight is definitely not out of mind and it just makes getting together with them all the better.
Even for my friend, Katie, that is no longer here, I am still grateful. Maybe it’s my crazy pregnancy psyche that won’t turn off, but she’s been coming to visit me so much in my dreams that it makes me wonder if she’s really just circling around me in another dimension, close enough to enter my mind but invisible to my eye.
I am so grateful for all these wonderful, hysterical girlfriends — those I’ve known since birth and those I’ve known for two months.
To all the girls I call friend: Thanks for the laughs and support!
My favorite holiday is here! Halloween! Happy Haunting everyone!!!
So last night we had our debut Delaware party in the form of the first Annual Pfarr Halloween Bash by the Bay. Of course, despite the fact I haven’t a hint of a hangover (thanks, pregnancy!), it was a success. Even though I missed downing a spooky cocktail or two, at least I had my stash of Hershey’s Halloween candy to scarf down to keep me in the party mood.
Not to brag or anything, but I PERSONALLY know a man who used to develop Hershey’s candy. As in — the actual food chemistry behind the world-famous confections. Yeah, we’re tight. He’s my best friend’s mom’s step-dad, who we all affectionately know as “Doc Chocolate.” Basically, Doc Choc’s cooler than Bono. I mean, could Bono whip you up a from-scratch chocolate cake that would make even the Virgin Mary week for joy with his eyes closed? Um, I think not.
So on this high holy day of candy consumption, here’s to the Hershey’s Corporation and its food scientists! Without you, Halloween would just be a bunch of lame treats like apples with razor blades, pennies, and stale pretzel sticks.
Can you tell I've eaten about 200 "Fun Size" Hershey bars? I've blown up like a blimp and my eyes can barely open. Oh well, it's Halloween!
Like mother, like son. This one will keep Hershey in business for a long, long time.
Seriously, I know I said it in yesterday’s post, but Karin TRULY picked a winner with her sprinkle present to me. She granted our family the gift of Wahoo, the giant inflatable blue dog by Marky Sparky toys.
I’m not kidding when I say Wahoo has changed my entire perspective on pets. Before he joined the family, Grey and I had considered possibly getting a puppy for Ollie so that he didn’t feel so left out when the new baby arrives in November, but now, well, now we’re leaning toward just letting him play with the large rubber air puppy instead. Hey, he probably won’t even know the difference!
The best thing about Wahoo is that he requires no housebreaking or grooming. He won’t take a dump on the couch or shed hair all over the floor. Ollie can pounce on his back and bite his nose with no threat of retaliation or worms. Plus, no need to kennel him when we go on vacation. In fact, if he starts to annoy us we’ll just deflate him and stuff him in a closet. No pesky trips to the vet to put him down. OR, for that matter, annoying barking, howling, or rubbing his ass on the carpet like dogs are so fond of doing. He’s the best companion since the pet rock. Whoohoo, Wahoo!
AMAZING!
Let this post be an open invitation for anyone who wants to come visit us at the beach. We’d love to host you — whoever you may be! (Unless of course we really don’t know you, then that would just be weird.)
Anywho, Grey and I had a pretty non-eventful holiday weekend planned until my friend Kris called me yesterday morning and said that her and her husband Craig had decided to come visit last minute. All of a sudden our weekend went from yardwork and errands and maybe some beach time — to an instant party when the two of them and their little girl, Emmeline, showed up. Or, as much of a “party” as two pregnant chicks (Kris is 9 months along), their husbands, and two toddlers can have. We stayed up past 11:45pm — that has to count for something anyway. And who knows — we always have Sunday night to get nutty. You never know what sort of insanity an intense game of Catch Phrase or Pictionary may take you!
So please — come on visitors! We miss our DC friends and we promise we won’t put you to work on our home improvement projects — even though we somehow roped our last two sets of houseguests into doing stuff like laying sod and planting shrubs, but hey, you’ll earn your keep and get a tan!
Kris and Craig and Grey and I -- in our pre-baby days when white wine and Yuengling fueled every get-together we had.
I know there are many downfalls to Facebook (it’s a time sponge, it hurts kids ability to actually speak to each other, people sometimes use it for creepy reasons, etc), but I honestly think the good outweighs the bad. I love it for two main reasons: the stalking and the birthdays.
First of all, it’s so much fun to peer into other people’s lives through their wall posts and pictures. It’s great that you can go years without having contact with a person and then friend them on FB and instantly know how many kids they have, where they work, and how their hairline or waistline is fairing. Amazing.
The second reason, is that it makes you feel so darn great on your birthday. The fact that the FB powers-that-be post your date of birth allows everyone and their brother to come out of the woodwork to send you birthday greetings on your big day (those of them that aren’t trying to steal your social security number and identity, anyway). I think that’s pretty neat. Yesterday, on my birthday, I heard from tons of Penn Staters, Washingtonians, Erieites — and even a few former students. It was fantastic! I felt so loved!! And popular! It was like an instant self esteem boost, which, when you’re turning a year older and look like you’ve swallowed a basketball, is much needed. Thanks, FB, but also all the friends that sent me the lovely birthday greetings. You made my day!
Thanks also to my two favorite crazy boys for making it a perfect birthday! (I love this totally insane cake cutting shot. Can we ever have a normal family pic?) Also, please ignore the "It's a Boy!" on the cake...pure speculation at this point!!
The thing I miss most about living in Virginia is my friends. Since my Delta Delta Delta days at Penn State, I hadn’t had such a tight knit group of girls with whom I could talk about absolutely anything. In fact, it always seemed like our book club was the place where we had the most hilarious conversations, so it makes me sad I’m missing out on that tonight while all my NoVa friends yuck it up.
When we started the club five years ago, no one had kids. The funny part about this was that when it was a pre-baby book club, all we talked about was labor and delivery. I’d say 99% of our book club conversations revolved around what we heard about women pooping on the table during labor. Ironic, because none of us even had babies — so what did we know?
The truth is, once you’ve actually given birth (or at least in my case), you could care less if you poop on the table or not. In fact, during my last labor, I could have taken a shit on Grey’s head and I wouldn’t have cared. Indeed, I could have dumped on an entire room of people and not batted an eye, but I digress…
The point is, I always knew we could talk about anything during book club and I’m very grateful to have been a member for so long! And who knows, next month I’m going to a new club here at the beach, so maybe it’ll be the same way. I have a theory that if you give women from any state in the country a few glasses of wine and some appetizers they’ll all wind up talking about third nipples, poop during labor, and celebrity gossip. It’s in our blood!
Here's a pic we snapped at BC a few years ago. No clue why we all rubbing our nipples. I think we were making some sort of reference to Pride and Prejudice or Grapes of Wrath? This is a very intellectual crowd, as you can tell.
Today was my last day of work at Washington Life. It’s amazing to think that it’s been just shy of two years and today I put all my stuff in boxes and gave Kelly my emergency flashlight and stash of odd perfume. I will be starting a new job on Wednesday, which I’m thrilled about, but it is tough to say goodbye to the people who you spend more time with than your own family. Kelly and Ali are my work family (and probably legal spouses considering how close we sit) and I am going to miss them terribly.
I don’t know who in the journalism world declared it fine for everyone to sit on each other. Have you ever seen the newsroom of a major paper? You’re lucky enough to get a cubicle and even then, your neighbor is just a piece of plexiglass away. Well, Kelly, Ali and I were short a few pieces of plexiglass. We really should have just shared a chair and worked from one communal brain.
And that’s just part of the reason why I’m going to miss them so much. Today Ali told me that I should watch Jersey Shore to stay relevant and so that people don’t think I’m old. I grimaced at her when she said it, but it was probably some pretty good advice. I have been wondering why everyone is so intrigued by that pudgy girl in booty shorts who tans herself the color of a Halloween pumpkin.
Kelly is always reminding me to be a good human and loves to solve every single problem in the office. She probably sits around and rewires the place after work, that tech savvy gal, but when she’s there during the day, she really works her butt off.
The three of us started a fake sorority together. It’s called KAK (clever I know), and our symbol is the dove. We have bonded over bread binges, nights where we actually slept at the office, and bad theme parties. When I go out of town or to a meeting, Kel and Ali like to print enormous embarrassing pictures from my past and hide them in my drawers. The little dears. WIll anyone publicly humiliate me in such an adorable way at my next gig? I don’t know. But I do know that it has been amazing working with Kelly and Ali over the years and I know I will see them all the time. That’s why god invented happy hour after all.
Ali was my intern for a year before she joined the squad and I was so lucky to have her! She is one of the only people on earth who can read my "I'm doing an interview" handwriting.
While I love airplanes and flying, nothing in the world compares to train travel. The longest train ride I ever took in my life was from Beijing to Ulan Bataar Mongolia. It was about 24 hours through China and Outer Mongolia and I loved every single second of it.
Mary-Alice, who I traveled with across half the world, and I had our own cabin and spent half the trip with our heads out the window, half naked, airing out our souls. That is until night fell and the train would randomly stop in the middle of nowhere. Then we prayed that our souls be saved.
At about two in the morning, in the middle of Mongolia the train just stopped and dumped out the passengers for two hours as they changed the wheels. The tracks in Mongolia and China are different so all the wheels of the train had to be changed and it takes a while. Let me tell you, there is no place that feels like the middle of nowhere like Outer Mongolia at 2 a.m.
I thought that was going to be my favorite memory of the trek, but I was wrong. Just before the Chinese officials boarded the train to check our visas and our cabins, our Mongolian train conductor came to Mary-Alice and I and asked if he could hide some produce in our berth. We of course said yes as Mongolia does not have much farmable land and who were we to deny innocent people of food. So we stuffed our entire room full of produce and kept our mouths shut.
When the border patrol came in, we all but glued our butts to our beds to keep them from finding the contraband tomatoes. Could we be thrown in jail for aiding and abiding the transportation of vegetables across national borders?
I’ll never know because no one was the wiser. When Mary-Al and I finally arrived in Ulan Bataar and headed for the platform, our conductor called for us and threw us a tomato as a thank you. And yes, I kept the thing until it was basically ketchup.
Mary-Al and me with our wonderful train conductor. This is what my eyebrows look like when I let them go. Now you understand...
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