I’ve written before about how downright fuglyass it is here in Jersey. Man, I don’t know how I stand it.

You know what folk say about Jersey. It’s stinky. Smells like burnt Pampers.

You’d think fall would be peeking through, but all we see is industrial smog.

There’s color, but it’s mostly brown. And grey. And dirt. ‘Cause, you know. It’s Jersey.

Hardly anything to look at when you go outside, really.

Man, fall in Jersey. Other states get foliage color and leaf peepers. We don’t have any of that, no sir, no ma’am. You’d hardly know it’s fall.

Even the Japanese maple out front isn’t acknowledging the season. Fall in Jersey? Pah. What’s the point?

It’s just fall. In Jersey. 

Bitchy woman in movie: “You meet and you point out each other’s flaws....”

Sarah: “I don’t like that lady, but do I point out your flaws? Do I make you feel bad?”

Hubby: “You don’t make me feel bad, but if you point out a flaw it needs to be pointed out.”

Sarah: “But I don’t make you feel bad, right?”

Hubby: “No. But can I point out one of your flaws?”

Sarah: “What?”

Hubby (*points at coffee table where I am sitting*) “My wine is over there.”

Sarah: “How is that MY flaw?”

Hubby: “I dunno. I want my wine.”

Sarah (*stands up, notices dirty diaper ON coffee table from when Hubby changed Baba*) :There is a dirty diaper on the coffee table! How about YOUR flaws, huh? YOUR flaws TOTALLY trump MY flaws!”

Hubby: “It’s poop, too!”

1. Carrie Underwood bugs the crap out of me. She sang the national anthem a few minutes ago, and I’d like a word with her stylist: the giant, giant wavy curl? Over it.

2. The National Anthem Yodel should be ILLEGAL. It’s as bothersome to me as when people cut up the American flag and use it to line a jacket (Bono are your ears burning?). I know I sound like a conservative gasbag, but whatever your feelings about the US, the flag was not meant to absorb armpit sweat from world-minded Irishmen.

Further, the national anthem does not feature a one-octave yodeling jump on the word “Free.” Quit showing off. It’s one note. One note. No need to over do it. And for God’s sake, stop with the jazz hands.

3. I have been looking for the faucet from our kitchen renovation in Jersey City. I loved it that much, I wanna use it again. I saw a picture of it on the Home Depot site, but I couldn’t find it for sale. Where did I find it? Faucets.com. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? 

So there’s a minivan in front of me at the gas station, and there’s a decal on the back window of a stick figure mom and dad, and little stick figure teens and two little stick figure little kids. And a dog. And underneath? “The Smith Family.”

Only not smith. A Portuguese family name.

So there’s the last name of the family and a license plate number obviously. If I follow the car I can score a home address. That’s a lot of info to gather - why make it so easy? Between that and Google I could do a lot of mischief if not harm.

Am I the only creepy brain who thinks that’s a bad idea?

I tried to resist, but dammit, that Fergie song about big girls not crying is stuck in my head. Get out get out get out.

Dammit.

Just passed four houses in a row all for sale. That must really suck.

On QVC this afternoon? Some dolls, which are always on QVC for some unknown reason. But the “info” according to my tv? “Dolls: Come And Play With Us.”

No, that’s not creepy.

What’s next, “Guitar Amps: We Go All The Way to 11?”