I thought peer pressure was in my past but here I am, a 36 year old chick (albeit a cool chick), being pressured into trying icky things.

You know how sometimes your spouse/significant other/pet pig tells you to try something new and you're all like "hmmmm I don't know. That sounds icky." and their rebuttal is "come on! You'll never know unless you try it!" and then you hesitate and he sees you weakening and so he uses the "if you loved me you'd try it!" and since you really want to please him because that is your number one goal in this here life, you try this new thing against your better judgement and then you're left spitting, with an awful taste in your mouth??

That's exactly what happened to me the other day when HE, torturer of wife (I was gonna say 'torturer of wiVES' but he only tortures me -and not the good kind of torture either- so I had to go with the singular) conned me into trying butterscotch pudding!

I know what your thinking.

You're asking yourselves how us two middle agers could be eating pudding since pudding is for babies and old people with no teeth. Well, pudding is yummy and if I try hard enough, I'm sure I could find reasons why it's good for you too. But not butterscotch because it tastes like it came from the devil's loins. I know, ewww! The color should have been an indicator of the nauseating moments to come. 

(I haven't changed many diapers but for some reason I'm having a flashback!)

Give me the old fashioned vanilla-chocolate swirl in a crystal wine glass* and I'm a happy girl.

*vanilla-chocolate swirl will also taste good in a regular cup/glass but I like to eat it in style. It's less fattening that way*. Tell your friends.

*If I'm wrong about it being less fattening, it's okay because maybe I'll get to meet this guy so he could SHAPE ME UP!

(It's like he's calling my name.)

Jessie Pavelka from Lifetime's DietTribe.

The Ugly Truth. What an appropriate title.

The hubs and I went to see The Ugly Truth. The only way I would recommend this movie is if I had the leading role and they were giving me a diamond iPhone. And maybe not even then.

I was very disappointed because I really wanted to like this movie. Instead I sat in my seat, fidgeting until it was my turn to hold the yummy nachos.

I don’t do movie critiques well, I leave that to the awesome Suzy, but I just want to point out what my pet peeves were.

Katherine Heigl comes off as shrill and overcaffeinated/over-actor instead of what they were going for which I'm assuming was a hopeless, likable, workaholic. Gerard Butler, whom I love but now I’m having second thoughts of adding to “My List”, makes weird facial expressions and I believe it’s because he’s trying to wrap his lips around American English. He winds up looking like Vincent Donofrio after his body was invaded by that weird roach-like alien in Men in Black.

Back to Heigl. I’m not a director nor do I want to pretend to know what it involves to be one BUT! I wish he would have told her that she didn’t need to keep smiling like a fool when she was doing a seductive dance with GB. She is a gorgeous woman but her open mouth profile reminded me of those clowns in fairs where you have to squirt the water in them to fill up a balloon or the Joker. Her chin disappears and she’s all teeth.

I know, scary!

All in all the acting was horrible. Don’t go see this movie. Save yourself the 8-10 bucks (16-20 if you have a nacho buddy) and go watch a toilet flushing instead. (sans nachos)

You know that question parents ask their kids "If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?" How many of you said yes? I jumped off a high mountain, does that count?

So the other day I went to say 'hi' to NCS on her blog and she was all bragging about her skiing abilities. I misquote "I'm awesome at skiing because I have awesome balancing skills and great hair, don't even try to be better at skiing than me because you will FAIL."

I told her my goal was to be the worst, laziest skier on the planet so the joke was on her. Then I told her I'd tell my skiing story after I ate my spider pie.

Here it is ladies and gents, the sordid, embarrassingly sad, details:

Back when I was a cool and happenin' disco (as Brian and jean knee say)(that's what they call clubs) chick, my friend Brenda thought it was a good idea to introduce me to the magical wonderland that is Skiing or as I refer to it "why in the hell would you want to freeze your ass off when there is a perfectly good lodge with hot guys and booze right over there?"

Being from California, skiing was just not something I ever thought about doing. She encouraged me by saying "you'll be fine, it's just a matter of balance!" uh I'd like to state for the record that, yes, my balance was good enough to keep me upright and helped in my learning to walk days but I never attempted to walk on slippery surfaces with butter-knives attached to my tootsies.

But hey! I was about 21-22 so I thought I was immortal why not try skiing?? Sonny Bono hadn't died yet so I had no idea how dangerous it could be.

We went to the local sports store and loaded up on cute outfits, warm socks, a ski jacket (just made sense to buy an expensive jacket for a first time adventure) and a polar bear. How did I pay for all that on my Chicken Joint salary? I had just gotten a new credit card in the mail and I had to pay for all that crap in the years to come. Bastards.

My dear friend Brenda and her friend Leslutty decided to teach me on the "bunny slope". Listen, if that fuckin thing was a bunny slope, my butt is really the same size it was in high school. That was an Elephant slope as far as I was concerned.

These were their instructions to me. AND I AM NOT KIDDING.

Brenda:

If you want to go left, you go like this [moves body to the left] if you want to go right you go like this [moves body to the right] and if you want to stop you go like this [extends arms, digs weird pole things into snow and crosses her skis].

Leslutty:

Yeah. Totally. [exhales a cloud of toxic smoke in my direction. Bitch.]

Me:

Oh, okay. What can go wrong with those easy instructions?

Lets stop right there and examine that statement m'mkay?

Just because instructions are easy, doesn't mean:

A) they are right

B) they should be followed

C) you won't need hip/face/back replacement surgery when you're done

and the hidden

D) you shouldn't have your fuckin head examined for having friends who want to kill you. In public! In front of children!

So I peer down the Elephant slope and Brenda says "ready? Go!" and because I always do as I'm told… down I went.

Now you will hear my inner thoughts because I remember exactly what I was thinking as if it were yesterday.

"Cool! Man, I must be doing about 30 miles an hour! Yeah! I am so balanced and look how straight I'm going with the proper knee bendyness! Wow looks like I'm headed for those pine trees! Uh, what did she say if I wanted to stop? Oh yeah. Cross skis. … How do I cross my skis they are just not cooperating. Where's the brake lever?? Ummm danger Will Robinson?? Danger. DANGER!!! OH HOLY FUCKIN SHIT! HOW DO I STOP??"

My friend Brenda, who is an excellent skier and I hate her, appeared alongside of me yelling stuff which I interpreted as "keep going you're doing great!" but in reality was "why the fuck aren't you stopping?".

So, I did the thing that I do best. I took matters into my own hands and threw my body backwards. So that I may fall and therefore stopping me from hurting the beautiful pine trees.

Now, I'm not sure if you are familiar with physics and I have to admit to only learning what I needed to to graduate and then replacing those things with images of Brad Pitt, but when you are going at a high velocity and you decide to throw your body on the slippery ground, this means you will be dragged around like a rag doll until:

A) You hit a big boulder

B) Hit a big tree

C) Hit another skier

D) run out of ground and just plummet off the face of the earth

but really it was

E) My ass was just too heavy to be dragged any further.

When I finally came to a stop, and was able to detach my legs from my ears, I dusted myself off. Stared at the long way I had gone and said to my friend Brenda "yeah, that was fun but you know what's more fun? Shooting rockets out of nose! How about I wait for you guys in the BAR WHILE TAKING SHOTS OF TEQUILA TO MAKE ME FORGET lodge?"

Now, you'd think the story would end there, right?

People, you would be so wrong.

Brenda:

Okay but why don't you go up the ski lift with us and then just come back down the lift?

Well hell! What a great idea!! I can have a nice view of the tops of the pine trees and watch people going down the mountain!!! Brilliant!

So we get on the ski lift, "ooh, pretty" "ahh peaceful" the next thing I know, I feel the chair jerk, see my "friends" on the slopes and then the lift completely stops.

In case you hadn't caught on by now, a person that goes up the ski lift must EXIT the ski lift at the TOP. There are no "ifs ands or buts" about it. Those are the rules. Would you like to know where my skis were? Why sitting right next to me of course! Why would they be on my feet if I'm not going to ski anymore! Silly rabbit!

To my horror, amidst cries of "what the hell are you doing? jump!" from the people in the chairs behind me, out of the little control shed comes this gorgeous, and do I mean drop-dead-knock-out-we-should-give-his-mother-a-standing-ovation-for-producing-such-a-mouth-watering-man, muscular guy in just a sweater and jeans who asks me to throw my skis on the ground and jump into his arms. Because I'm about 7 feet off the ground.

I hesitate since I don't want to be the one responsible for squishing the life out of this magnificent creature. He extends his arms and says "I'll catch you" ::dreamy sigh:: so I jump. Talk about trusting someone with your life. Talk about being a modern day Hercules. Talk about how red my face must have been!

He caught me, gently put me down, grabbed my skis, asked me if I was okay, left me with the mountain police (2 guys about my age) and then went back into his sparkly castle. ::dreamy sigh #2::

The mountain police were okay to look at but they were no match for the guy who held me in his arms. No match.

Anyway, there were only 3 ways off that mountain. You skied down it, out of the fuckin question. You rolled down it, I obviously didn't have a good rolling chance, maybe now but not back then. You WALKED down it. In ginormous ski boots. With drifts up to my waist.

Oh yeah, I forgot to talk about the ski boots. I am 5'2 and at that time was a way smaller size than I am now. Not telling you what size I am now since it's really none of your business and has no relevance to this story. The boots were up to my knees (rented thank god because I would have beat myself if I had bought a pair) and I felt like I was hauling around giant iron beams.

As I was being escorted down the side of the mountain, my two body guards were telling me I should get new friends. That was the best idea I'd heard all day. They also asked me where I lived, did I have a boyfriend and all that other stuff but you don't need to hear about that.

I waited for my "friends" in the lodge and had already made quick friends with the bartender and a few other people by the time they came inside, I also had a lot less brain cells IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. Did I mention it was night skiing?

There you have it NCS. Next time you are swooshing down the mountain, think of me having a Kahlua and cream mmmmm while sitting in front of a nice warm fireplace. Minus the hot guys. Now I only have one hot guy. You know, in my memories. ;o) (kidding babe, you know I meant you)

P.S.

Don't forget about coming over for our Sunday Comics "Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love..." completely illustrated by Andy.

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