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Have you ever thought about.... ...the fact that when you are leaving a NYC subway during the morning commute and it's pretty packed, as it always is, and you're literally a little sardine, and you're walking up the stairs to the street single file the person in front of you's ass is just INCHES FROM YOUR FACE!!!! Now I can't stop examining the person walking in front me and stopping myself from forming the mental image of my face a mere few inches from their bare naked ass! It's really gross. Think about it.

<-- It could be this guy. Sickening.

Happy subway riding! Posted under I hate the subway rants, I like square butts and I cannot lie


I am the star whisperer (celebrity-wise, not astrologically) <-- This is my coaster at work. Ain't it true?!

I've had some stuff on my mind lately and it's lead me to reinvigorate my blogging efforts, which have been pretty pathetic these past few months. Apologies to whomever you are... (is that a cavernous echo?)

First, there's something twisted about the fact that my mind immediately goes to dark and creepy places with the most mundane shit. I was recently running (okay, power walking) in the park and a recreational worker drove by in a converted golf cart, and then stopped at a wooden storage unit to load up on tools and equipment for the day. Just like when someone holds up those cards with giant stains and blots on them and asks you what's the first thing that comes to mind (I just googled it and they're called Rorschach cards), my immediate thought was, "that's a great place to store a dead body." I know, it's twisted and freakish. Now I'm worried that if my brain were tested for the serial killer trait I would test positive. But upon further thought I realize that the concept of storing a dead body in the wooden storage unit is flawed and would surely put me in big house. What's worse-the initial thought or the analyzing? One, it's a locked unit so unless I picked the lock or broke it somehow I wouldn't be able to get in. Two, it's wood. So if the D.B. (that's what the call it on CSI) were bloody it might seep out and someone might see it and call the po po. Three, the park workers probably go in the storage unit every day or every few days, so they'd likely find it before it even started to smell. Which leads me to point four - it's a high traffic area and would eventually smell. Unless I hid the D.B. in Winter when it was cold and there was less park workers and general patrons of the park around. Which might buy me a bit more time. However, if I were super stealth with DNA and other forensic shit it might not matter if the find it, but every criminal knows it's easier to walk free of a murder rap without a body! Either way you can see why I'm disturbed by my own mind. Scary shit, yo. Note to self: I'm watching waaaaayy too much crime television...

On a final note, I've seen three celebs in as many days. I saw Alec Baldwin on Sunday, riding his bike through Broadway traffic WITHOUT A HELMUT!, Kevin Bacon this morning in Central Park walking his two dogs, and Donald Sutherland this afternoon cruising through SoHo looking like a giant q-tip with his bleachy white hair. When will my streak end?? Stay tuned to find out.

PS - I'm totally expecting the NYPD to come to my door tonight and either a) arrest me for premeditated murder (even though I have yet to identify a target) or b) ask me to consult for them since my mind works like that of a criminal. Posted under alec baldwin isn't a safe bike rider, I'm a wannabe criminal, po po


Random thought of the day Why is a case of wine 12 bottles, a case of whiskey 12 bottles.... but a case of beer is 24? I'm at a loss.

At first I thought it could be related to the alcohol % and volume - i.e. you got equally fucked up from each case of said alcoholic beverage, but that doesn't work when you think it through:

A case of beer will cause you to wake up on your front lawn with a grass stain on your face and bloody knee that you don't know how you got.

A case of wine will put you in the hospital getting your stomach pumped.

A case of whiskey will kill you.

So that theory is out the door.


PS - SassyTwoSocks was referenced by Gawker a few days ago in reference to that psycho who was posting "wanted ads" for women... exciting! On a side note, I found out that my sister-in-law knows this dude, Malik. Creepy. 
Is it just me or is anyone else tired of the gladiator sandal? I can't walk into a shoe store, mainstream or boutique, without being accosted by gladiator sandals. I see them and all I think about is Russell Crowe.

They are a fad that has lasted way too long. I'm sure many of you reading this own a pair and may be offended by my attack on a harmless shoe style. But let me ask you... don't you think they might just be a little ugly? Doesn't it bother you that everyone and their mother and gay brother is wearing them?

Let's review the various options, shall we? 1. Ugly. I can picture this on a homeless hippie who lost his job because he got arrested for smoking maryjane on the town common.

2. Not so bad. I barely consider this a gladiator shoe.

3. Ugly. Reminds me a parachute harness.

4. Meh

5. I just threw up. This wouldn't even look good on Giselle.

6. I just threw up again

7. Orange, really?

8. Doesn't everyone know that ankle straps like this give everyone a cankle?

9. Turquoise isn't so bad, but again with the cankle-making.

10. If I was held at gunpoint and was forced to wear a gladiator sandal, I'd pick this one.

I mean, look at this. I did a search for "gladiator" and the second most popular search is "gladiator sandals" followed by "gladiator shoes." That's a sign right there that we need something new to obsess over. I'm open to some ideas... anyone have a good idea for a new trend to overkill???... Posted under please don't make me vomit on you, the only gladiator I like is Russell Crowe


It sucks to be skinny AND have cankles In the midst of my panic attack about passing out with a apparent bottle of urine in my bag last night, I noticed a girl on the subway who was thin and svelt but had major cankles. And I thought to myself, "that poor, poor girl - to be blessed with the thin gene AND the fat ankle gene must suck." Big time.

You may be thinking, well isn't be thin with cankles better than being fat with cankles. Well, I disagree. At least if you're overweight, there's still somewhat of a curve to your calf/ankle area, versus your entire lower leg being one long stump.

Either way, I suppose cankles suck big time.

Do you think people get lipo on cankles? Just some food for thought on this wonderful, 99 degree Friday... Posted under liposuck me baby, skinny girl cankles


If your'e chewing, you're cheating! Today I started a 48-hour detox cleanse, along with 3 of my co-workers. It's basically Master Cleanse with a fancier name - a drink containing lemon juice with cayenne and maple syrup. I'm not sure why this concoction continues to be favored among the detoxification crowd but my theory is that the combination of sour, spicy and sweet and tricks your mouth into thinking it's actually ingesting something. But if you ask me, it's not working.

I'm a little pissed off at them calling it a "48-hour detox". In reality, the last meal I had was around 8pm Tuesday night, and I'm technically not allowed to eat again until Friday morning, so wouldn't that make it a "60-hour detox"? Why must they undermine me? If it were truly a 48-hour detox I could eat a dinner tonight at 8pm. Douches!

Last night, around the 21 hour mark I was completely looped out - everything was funny. I had more energy than I knew what to do with and all I could do was laugh my ass off at absolutely nothing.

I've literally hit the 36 hour mark since I last ate and delirium is setting in. I never thought I'd find myself so excited to drink my breakfast - because it's better than nothing.

Last night, when I left the office I brought a water bottle with some of the lemonade drink it in and put it in my purse. My biggest fear was passing out on the subway ride home and having some stranger find what appeared to be a bottle of urine in my bag...

This morning on the subway some dumb bitch was stuffing a croissant into her mouth about 12 inches away from my face. I tried to "accidentally" knock her coffee into her lap to no avail...

So here I sit, S-I-P-P-I-N-G my lemonade-y drink and repeatedly telling myself, "mind over matter, mind over matter"...
at 8:55 AM 
Today is my day. So shut it.

In my office, each time it's someone's birthday, we photoshop a picture to include the face of our colleague, let's call him Wolf. Wolf is continually transformed into beautiful woman, famous celebrities, ladies with a bit more "girth", and famous athletes. If only each of us could be so lucky...
 And here is my very own bad birthday photoshop: It's Jersey Shore meets the Backstreet Boys!

God, I love my job. Posted under cute or scary?, wolfman I am a sass. And sometimes I wear two socks. Sometimes one. I'm also a mommy of two cats, a second wife (to Mr.T), a runner who will never look athletic, a smartypants, a new yorker at heart but masshole by birth, a shopaholic, a boring ex-accountant turned internet exec, a foodie, a watcher of too much crappy tv, a cheese addict (probably the reason I'll never look athletic), and a wine snob. Oh, and I wish I had an afro. sassytwosocks [at] gmail [dot] com
