I'd like to see this on the back of a truck

Ok...so this is an idea / joke that Baz, Stefan and I come back to every time we are together. You've seen the stickers....Calvin pssing on a race car number...etc. So we have always "bandied" around what we think would be hilarious things Calvin could be pissing on.

And so without further ado, on behalf of Stefan and Baz, I present...

Calvin Pissing In a Toilet.

Calvin Pissing On Susie

Look for other favorites like Calvin pissing on a cross and John Calvin Pissing on Henry Ford.


Great job Stefan...its so nice to see our dreams come to life.

xoxo, Biz

Guess Who Got Engaged

These guys!

*Warning: super mushy post to follow.

That’s right young lovers, Stefan finally popped the question and totally surprised me! It was really the sweetest thing ever.

So he took me to dinner at Applewood’s, which is this super awesome, seasonal, fresh ingredient restaurant in Brooklyn. We had a really nice dinner but were having weird conversations. At one point I said…”we obviously need to get over whatever problems we are having cause its like you can’t even talk to me! I mean you just started a conversation with ‘the housing market is apparently evening out’ and you say it was a joke, but we actually had a conversation about it.”

He handles all of this really well…still no signs from him that anything is coming. We have a nice meal and some lovely wine and then we get ready for desert and they bring over the menu and I am looking at the desert menu and I am reading the list….

Elizabeth? What’s an Elizabeth? How cute they have an Elizabeth dessert…I wonder what’s in it…it is totally not registering with me…I am looking at Stefan and he is looking at me and all I can think about is…"is there caramel in an Elizabeth?”

Then it clicks and I look at Stefan again and he asks me if I’ll marry him and I say yes…and then we threw up…just kidding. Then we kissed...in public. rrrrrowwww!

Come on...can you get more romantic than having the restaurant make a special menu just for us! It was just so sweet and special and nice and...WAHHHHHH!!!!

The hostess brought us over champagne and we ordered Pecan Pie for desert and we kissed and were all goofy and here are the pictures to prove it.

Behold the ring. The state of my nails proves I had no idea this was coming. It is my Grandmama's ring on my Mama's side and I so excited to have it. It means the world to me and is a very nice tie to my past and my future.

Here is Stefan paying for dinner...just like he's gonna pay for the rest of his life. MWA HA HA....just kidding...i promise we planned that sad and worried face and that it is not indicative of his fears about our future. (gulp)

And here I am...the happiest gal alive. I love Stefan more than anything in the world and I am so excited about our future together. I love you Stefan.

(come on...doesn't that look like the face of a woman who woudl kill for Stefan?)

Stressed?

They say that stress can affect you in many ways. It can make you physically ill. Your body aches. It can stir up the depression that lurks around all of your corners. It can affect your speech and motor skills. And sometimes you don’t feel the effect of it until weeks or months later. You can only hope that when the effects of a previous stress attack do resurge, that you aren’t in the middle of a brand new stress attack.

I have been stressed out. A lot.

I have ways of knowing that I am stressed.

No…heightened emotions, irrational anger, panic attacks and a feeling of impending doom aren’t the signs. Those states appear to be permanent.

Dropping things. That is sign number one. I’ll get a glass of water and will walk to the couch to sit down and one minute the glass is in my hand and the next minute it is on the floor and I am soaking wet.

Telephone? Dropped it.
Remote Control, aka The Clicker? Dropped it.
Keys? Dropped it.
Books? You know it!
Bowl of fruit at work? Oh yeah!

Next comes walking…or the inability to do it well. I have run into a few walls, the corner of doors…you know, you think you are gonna clear the door…casue it’s a door and you have been walking through them all your life…and then BAM, the door is picking a fight with you, shoving you in the shoulder. I trip a little. It’s like I am under attack from a sniper…my feet dodging bullets, but its not as cool as that…it’s more like my feet hate walking.

Losing things. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t lose things. I am very good at not losing things. In the last two weeks I have lost one of every pair of gloves. The good news is that two of the missing pairs fit my right and left hand so I have one very mismatched set.

To me, when I make it into the losing things zone…or the orange zone as I like to call it…I can accept that something is wrong and that I should work to de-stress and pay attention more so I don’t make a really big mistake…

…like locking myself in the basement.

Two days ago I locked myself in the basement. It was Wednesday night. I came home from work, determined to relax. I lit the candles, I ordered some yummy Thai food, I curled up on the couch, and turned on one of my favorites…Law and Order SVU mini marathon on USA. I have two cats. I let them outside because I believe cats should be allowed to express their wild side. I leave the downstairs window cracked open so they can come and go as they please. Around 8:30, Casper…the cat who loves to be outside, wandered in from his nightly prowl. In order to keep him from going back outside while I try to close his window, I shut the door that leads to the basement, and went down to close...well…you know it…the window.

I head back upstairs. Turn the knob and discover the door is locked.

Ok, nobody panic. I’ll just use the phone we keep downstairs. Oh…turns out it is upstairs because I left it upstairs after I last used it.

Hmmmmm…I bet I can pick the lock. I have a tattoo, I should be able to pick a lock.

Apparently my tattoo doesn’t pick locks.

Ok, so Stefan is at a rehearsal a few blocks away. I know he should be home in an hour, but I have cats upstairs with lit candles and a table covered in thai food. Those things equal potential danger!

Hmmm, what else can I do MacGyver?

There is a computer down here. I’ll email somebody.

Here is the email I sent:

Subject Line: Help please.
“have locked myself in the basement. There are candles burning and cats upstairs, along with all phones, and Stefan is at an EL meeting. If one of you gets this in the next 30 minutes...stop laughing...please call Stefan 917-579-xxxx and ask him to come let me out.Then somebody email me back and tell me if you got him.”

Then I waited.

While waiting I thought “hey, I bet there is a website that tells you how to pick a lock.” So I google “how to pick a lock.” Lots of sites, but the locks were way more complicated than mine.

So just to see what would happen, I googled “I have locked myself in the basement.”

Turns out I am not the first person to lock myself in the basement where the only form of communication was a computer. I found several posts of people in my situation on message boards about locks. Hilarious. I found an article on my type of lock and grabbed my screwdriver to give it another try.

It didn’t work and then I got scared that if I pushed any harder at the lock I would break it and then the door would never open again.

So back to my email.

Livia Scott and Jay Dugre were both luckily online…and after laughing…jumped into action and reached Stefan. Stefan got home shortly after and “rescued” me from the basement…which by the way isn’t awful. It’s got a flat screen with cable and is themed like a jungle room. There are worst places to be locked in.

A big thanks to Livia and Jay for helping me out.

My favorite email that I got in response to my cry for help was from Carter Edwards. It simply said: “... I'm not sure what to saythis is maybe my favorite e-mail ever...”

Thank you Carter.

Hmmmm….so it seems that all signs point to stress. It might be time to take up yoga.