I went to City Hall today...

Sorry, Jen -- I didn't get married at City Hall! Puh-leeze! (I know what your Dirty Domestic Goddess mind was thinking!)

I took a break from my DomestiGal duties today to run down to City Hall and incorporate the parent company of my various businesses.

Now, not to be totally out there, but wouldn't you agree that forming a corporation is a slightly serious endeavor? That's what I thought, as well, until I went to do it.

While setting up my business checking account (not the same person who Domestic Partnered me and The Doctor, unfortunately), my banker told me, "Now, when you go to City Hall to set up your business, make sure you visit the coffee guy. Most people don't know that you can pick up your forms at the coffee shop."

"That's really bizarre," I thought, "Why would I ever go to the coffee shop to pick up business forms?"

Anyway, I took the A train down to Chambers Street, eventually found 60 Center Street, and went through all the various security lines and found my way down to the Business room. I proudly marched myself to the counter, and was ignored by the state employees for a good 5 minutes while they finished dancing around to some mmmm-bop from the 90s.

Finally, this woman comes over to me and asked what I wanted to do. Upon hearing my response, she questioned, "Did you pick up your business formation forms from the coffee shop?"

"Um, what? No, can't I pick up the forms here?"

"No, we don't keep corporation forms here. You have to go back up to the first floor and get your forms from the coffee shop."

I just had to laugh, since this pretty much confirmed that Manhattan is not the epicenter of the world, as everyone thinks it is. So, off I went to the deli guy upstairs, who sold bags of chips, People and InTouch Magazines, and all the documents you need to start a business in NYC.

Sigh.

I think I should have had the deli guy Domestic Partner me and The Doctor, rather than the dude at the bank. It would have been so much more glamorous.

But, moving on from business and back to our bootylicious bottoms.

First of all, a workout can never be *too* hard. After all, no one wants jiggly buns in their wedding dress of dreams, right? I certainly don't want a jiggly butt in my beehive outfit. (I am competing with the Queen Bee, after all).

Amazingly, I have never thrown up after a workout. I did, however, one time make The Doctor get terribly green after I pushed him too hard with his exercises. He now refuses to work out with me and his personal trainer comes over once a week to watch him do push-ups on his knees. Seriously, the last time I came home his trainer was standing in the middle of our living room completely exasperated and The Doctor was working on his computer. His trainer practically had to beg him to come back and do another set of pretty basic sit ups. I was absolutely furious with him!

Working out the brain does not equal working out the body!

Ladies in DomestiGal land... admit it... what do your guys do that drive you up the wall bonkers?

xx,
Big Business Sue