Friday, September 30, 2011


Okay…now it’s an effing game with you.

You hover around bugging the shit out of me

When I finally start paying attention to you…you disappear.

When I least expect it…there you are again.

You have a weird attraction to me.

Even when I can’t see you I know you are nearby.

But I want nothing to do with you.

I wave you off.

But you strike a pose as if threatening me.

Oddly enough that gives me some relief.

Hoping it may help bring an end to your sick game.

But as soon I get close again, close enough to whack you.

You are up and off, once more.

Son of bitch.

I see the mischievousness in your gross and unblinking eyes.

Quit touching my hand and stay off my computer you creepy little thing.

I see you for what you are.

I can only imagine the parasitic diseases you must carry.

Go ahead keep distracting me...

keep irritating me...

because sooner or later

I will win this game you started.

You creepy...



Thursday, September 8, 2011

I HAVE A VISION…well, I have a television.

I thought now that I have some extra time I’d get caught up on important things… like TV.

What I discovered was shocking!  Television, especially daytime TV, sucks!

I think the network executives know this because they seem to be trying to spice things up by giving shows violent names like Storage Wars, Karaoke Battles, BeatBox Battles, Towing wars, and my favorite the Cupcake wars. (What can be better than violence and baked goods?)

If creatures from other planets got a glimpse of our current TV shows they would have to assume that we are an incredibly petty race considering the things we seem to be battling over.

The food network is one of the worst. Do the executives there really believe that men are that stupid? Do they think that giving baking shows brutal sounding names is is going to fool men into watching a couple gay guys and some fat broads whipping up a batch of cupcakes?

While baking shows are given violent names, game shows are just becoming more violent. I remember when people use to sit in chairs, answer questions, and a buzzer was used to indicate wrong answers. Now, contestants are thrown off catapults and buildings. They are thrown into water and pelted with objects. There is even a show that gives contestants an electric shock for answering wrong. What has happened? 

Groucho Marx’s “You Bet your life” would have a whole new meaning in today’s world.

I also can’t stand the excessive narcissism of reality shows. The Fanny Pack (aka the Kardashians) are the worst with their inordinate greed and gluttony. Even the commercials for the show are benign. There was actually one commercial that showed the Kardashians at the dentist and said “find out which Kardasian has a cavity”. (I bet millions were shaking with excitement for that riveting episode.)

I find it hard to believe that anyone cares which one has a cavity, or which one pees on herself, or which on farted in public. Seriously, if you are waiting on the edge of your seat to find out which Kardasian had a public butt malfunction, you need to get a life even more than I do.

We live in a weird society.

There's also a bizarre show called “I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant”. In almost every episode a woman is in a bathroom in pain. She thinks she has a bad case of constipation, but ends up with a baby in the toilet. I really just think they should rename the show “OMG…Look What I Just Crapped Out!”

Another popular reality show that bugs me is the one with the plastic women. Their facial skin is pull so tight that they look like reconstructed burn victims. They have fake boobs, fake hair, fake nails, and fake tans. What is it called? What else…The Real Housewives. (Plah-leeze…)  A real housewife would be in sweats, a stained t-shirt, yelling at her kids while burning some Hamburger Helper on the stove.


Sunday, September 4, 2011

My "Been There...Done That...and Hell No" Bucket list

Recently I have been reviewing the whole “bucket list” subject again. It hasn’t been that easy to come up with items for my list (as noted in my Aug 13th blog), which I think surprised me a bit. I started asking around to see what other people had on their list.  It was an interesting exercise.  I actually found that (although inadvertently) I have already experienced many items on the bucket lists of others.


When asked what should be on a bucket list, a few people said “Make a difference or change in someone’s life”. It wasn’t until I was reviewing my notes when I realized that this statement needs some clarification. For instance, being fired from your job or being run over by a steam roller would make a difference and change in your life. Hell, for that matter, just by being born we changed someone’s life. (Our parents) We may have even taken away the privilege of being an only child from our sibling. So, I think technically we can all check that one off our list!

One person told me that he would like to finish all the miscellaneous things he started. At first I thought that sounded like a good goal, until I looked at the newly opened gallon of Tequila that I just bought from Costco. Perhaps that goal should be defined more clearly or that could kill me.

Someone had mentioned packing bags and taking off on a trip without an itinerary. Yep, done that! Not on purpose though. It was one of those trips where my husband and I thought the other had made arrangements. We slept in our car one night and spent the rest of the time in a lovely motel 6 with stains on the carpet and mold in the shower. I know…it sounds romantic… but really it wasn’t. I would never do that again. But at least I have another item in the “check” column.

Fly a plane: I not only flew a plane, but I owned it and built it. Impressive, huh? Granted it was made of balsa wood and was only 12 inches long. Plus, it only lasted about 3 flights. It was destroyed when it took a nose dive into the street and was run over by a Sparklett’s water truck. The horror has stuck with me and now I only fly paper.

Fly first class: Is that even an option anymore? Does sitting in the front row on a SouthWest flight count?

Visit the Eiffel Tower: I saw the one in Las Vegas…so who needs to see the real one? Right? (At least that’s what my husband keeps telling me.)

Build a pond: One of my friends said building a pond in their backyard was on their bucket list. I haven’t myself built a pond, but my son did in a field behind our house. So I guess you can say I aided and abetted in the creation. My son and his friend were either trying to build a pool or escape to the other side of the world. They got about 3 feet deep (which was impressive) and lost interest. It became a pond after the first rain. When it dried out, my son put a board over the top of it (in case they wanted to continue on their voyage to the center of the earth). What he ended up creating, was a den for one of our local coyotes. We discovered this in the spring when we had a bunch coyote pups running around. It did help us lower the rabbit population for a while. But we eventually had to evict them. So… Bucket list regarding a back yard pond – check. Aiding in the building of a habitat for wild life - check

Swim with sharks: I actually did this many years ago, but only by circumstance. I was participating in an organized group swim that went out and around the pier in Santa Cruz. Unbeknownst to us the restaurants on said pier were throwing out discarded fish parts. So in effect, they were chumming the waters. Several sharks were spotted within feet of us. You never saw a group of casual swimmers race so fast to shore. (I think some were even hydroplaning.) So, I can check “swim with sharks” off my list.

Wrestle a bear: While I have never actually wrestled a bear, I did go nose to nose with one. While in college I went backpacking with a group of friends. One morning I woke up to someone with really bad breath breathing on me. When I opened my eyes I found I was face to face with a bear standing over me and smelling my breath. I must have had the most horrendous morning breath to cause a bear to come out of the woods to investigate. Fortunately for me, he was just a yearling and was as afraid of me as I was of him. Like a scene out of a movie we both took off screaming in opposite directions. So, while I can’t say I wrestled a bear, I can say I scared a bear…but then again that may be a humiliating thing to admit.

Live in a foreign country for at least 6 months: Does living in East LA count? (Lived there for 2 years)

I will admit that there are items that others have put on their bucket lists that I have no desire to do. For instance:

Bungee jumping: I get a headache just bending over. I can only imagine that my head might explode if I hang for any length of time upside down by my ankles. Besides, I had a paper route as a kid and I had more rubber bands break on me then I care to think about.

Snorkel: I don’t really have a desire to snorkel. Unless that means to snore and chuckle at the same time which my husband has accused me of doing at times.

Run with the Bulls: I have no real desire to do this, unless it’s with Kurt Thomas or one of the other Chicago Bulls. (Although I’d prefer to walk)

Yoga retreat…One of my friends suggested this one, but I would prefer a yogurt treat (especially frozen yogurt).  I would go along with a retreat if that means a second helping.

So, there you have it. It’s not really a bucket list. In fact I still need to work on that. This would be more of a “been there, done that, and hell no” list.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Fairy Tales and Reality Shows Have a Lot In Common

Yesterday I was in the library and one of the librarians was reading Jack and the Bean Stock to a group of kids. I remembered it as a kid, so I stopped to listen. 

I find that as an Adult I realized that I have a completely different view of this story. I have to ask… what is the moral?

Here is my interpretation of the story of Jack and The BeanStock:   This kid, Jack, is too lazy to walk his cow all the way to town, so he sells her to the first guy he meets who has nothing but a fist full of beans. So, right off the bat we know this kid is probably the result of some sort of inbreeding.

Then, fortunately for him the seeds grow into an enormous bean stock which he climbs and finds a house where a giant lives. This giant has a goose that lays golden eggs. Jack steals this goose. The goose holler’s which alerts the Giant (so obviously the goose didn’t want to go with Jack). The Giant chases Jack, but as soon as Jack gets to the ground he chops the bean stock down, thus causing the Giant to fall (committing manslaughter).  The story ends there with Jack and his mom (which obviously is a story in itself) living happily ever after on the riches of the golden eggs the goose is now forced to lay for them whenever they choose.

So, as an adult I’m hearing that this Jack fellow is lazy, is a thief and killer. Yet, he and his mother live happily ever after? How is it this okay?

What is the message here? That giants are bad people? Unless you are an A’s fan, I don’t see how that generalization can be made.

It made me realize how wrong all those stories were that I grew up with, yet somehow they do relate to today's society.  For example:  

~The woman who lived in a shoe with so many children she didn’t what to do….slut?...or Octomom?
(Of course we also have Kate plus 8 and Angelina Jolie as well) 

~Goldilocks committed a break-in and should be considered a thief.  However, she is painted as victim, because she was scared by some bears.  (Lindsay Lohan?  The stars of Pretty Wild?)

~Three Men in a Tub?  It sounds like a porno in the making. (Today we have the Kardashians and Paris Hilton who are only famous because of a sex tape.)

I think I'm starting to understand the meaning of these old fairy tales.  I think the true message of these stories is that the world is effed up!


Saturday, August 13, 2011

My Bucket List

I started to write my life plan and got bored. Not surprising…it hasn’t been a ball of excitement so far. But I did review my strengths (limited) and weakness (too many to mention).

My biggest weakness seems to be a lack of talent. While, I can make a mean margarita, successfully operate a DVR, and actually fold a map. I have to ask myself… is that enough?

In the kitchen I am a whiz as long as the food is precooked and frozen. I'm not bad at baking, unfortunately however, when the nation switches completely over to fluorescent bulbs my Easy Bake Oven will be out of commission and then I’ll be screwed.

I do succeed in self-pity, whining, and bitching. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen those listed under any job descriptions.

So instead of a "life plan", I have decided to work on my bucket list. In writing this list I realized that I am really not into the hard-core I-might-die-from-this shit. It's actually nothing too extraordinary, but I'm sure it's different now than it would have been 20 years ago. Anyway, this is what I came up with:

#1. I like to laugh and I've always admired comedians. I have an appreciation for people who can make others laugh; come up with brilliant ideas; and complain and bitch in a way that makes it funny. I would like to learn to do that and take on the world by making them laugh.
     ~~Bucket list Item #1… learn to do standup.
(I am actually doing this! I have been attending workshops and have a performance scheduled for the 24th.)

#2. I’ve always wanted to finish a book. ~~Bucket List #2…read a book all the way through.

#3. I’ve also wanted to write a book and now with some of these free on-line publishing programs it’ll be easier to self-publish. Plus, I can make it as long or short as I like! So watch for my 10 page cook book to be published soon. It will be called “Yes…it is food…so shut up and eat it."
    ~~Bucket List #3 …write and publish a book…any book.

#4.  I need to come up with more to put on my bucket list.
   ~~ Bucket List #4  finish bucket list.  (I think that's a bit like using your third wish to wish for more wishes.)

So there it is...short and sweet and still a little boring...just like me. :-]  


Saturday, August 6, 2011

What's up Doc?

My husband has been a little worried about me with reason. He has banned me from the evening news. Every time I watch it I feel like I need a drink and shower afterwards. Things seem so bleak.

My husband encouraged me to see my doctor. The truth is that I already had an appointment for my regular checkup (which was scheduled before I lost my job). I didn’t tell Bruce this because he likes to believe that I actually listen to him once in a while.

Last week I had my doctor’s appointment (it was amazing that I could get an appointment so soon…wink wink). She shares her office with several other doctors so the waiting room is fairly large. Probably double the size of a normal waiting room. Most the people there look kind of sick which made me feel a little guilty about being there while I was perfectly healthy. It also made me realize how gross those old magazines must be. There must be years of germs just hanging on to them waiting for someone like me to pick them up without care or trepidation. It didn’t really matter though, because I wasn’t that interested in reading about Fly Fishing or Nascar. The only People magazine available was from 5 years ago and yet it was still Angelina on the cover.

I finally got called in, got weighed, had my ears checked, my temperature taken, and my blood pressure taken. Everything my poor dog goes through at the vet…only they failed to check my teeth. Then I wait…and wait…and wait. Until I am no longer a patient I am an inpatient. HaHa…of course I’m sure my doctor has never heard that one. Right?

I remind myself that I don’t have anywhere else to go. So, I decide to lie down on the nice uncomfortable bed they supply in every room. Of course just as I start to drift off to sleep the doctor comes in.

She knocks on the door as she enters. What is the point of that? Even if I was in a compromising situation the knock/enter would not be sufficient to uncompromised the situation. But…I digress.

After giving me a rundown of my blood work and the standard “watch your cholesterol” speech, she asked me how things were going. She seemed to genuinely care.

But then she turned on me and reminded me that I was aging. She started to go on about “women your age”. Really you just lump us all together like that? She said a lot of women (my age) start to feel lost like they have no purpose in life anymore. How dare she! I don’t care that she was right, I was still pissed. She said that maybe I needed to take up a hobby. Then she went on to say “what a lot of women your age do is find a new identity. It seems to make them happy. Perhaps you should consider finding a new identity.” Really?

So I found a new identity...I took hers. Then I bought some shoes, a matching purse and a jet pack. (Not really, although it crossed my mind for an instant.)


Friday, August 5, 2011

A New Turning Point

I have recently joined the ranks of the unemployed. I guess no one is going to be too surprised. I got the pink slip which says I’m out of a job...but it does remind me to get my breast examined.

It was interesting how it was handled. They brought me into an office and said “We have had to make some hard decisions and we have decided to let you go.” It was a weird way of putting it. However, the fact that they were “letting me go” did confirm my suspicions that they were indeed holding me hostage.

The first few days of unemployment were rather relaxing. I slept in...or rather I tried to sleep in, but my dog was too excited about me being home. She probably thought she was helping when she forced her cold wet nose on my bare thigh while I was still asleep. Let’s face it, once you sit up and scream there is no going back to sleep. So that has become my morning alarm clock and ritual. It consists of me being rudely awakened, getting up and heading for the bathroom while my dog, Lucy does her little “I win!” dance. Damn dog!

I have been contemplating my next steps. I find it difficult to get excited about anything, especially the idea of getting another job. I don’t know if I’m a lousy employee, or if I’ve had a series of crappy employers, or if all workplaces are joyless and oppressive. Most of the people I know are unhappy with their work environment which worries me even more.

I never had a job I hated; I’ve just worked in places where employees were not exactly appreciated. For the most part, with this past group of managers, their admiration for their employees went without saying...seriously never mentioned.

I know that life often brings changes. There are those that have tried to make me feel better by saying things like “when one door closes…another door opens”. For me…it is my refrigerator freezer door where I reach for my two psychotherapists Ben and Jerry (and Cherry Garcia)... and then the world is good again.


Wednesday, June 1, 2011

It Can't be a Mid-life Crisis...Can It?!

I decided to spend this past weekend writing my life plan, which is an odd thing to do when you are already in midlife. I guess it’s like realizing half way through dinner that perhaps you should have followed a better recipe…or if I were to be honest... any recipe.

It may be weird to compare life to a meal, but apparently that’s how my brain works as I believe most things can somehow be relatable to food. For instance, my current career situation can be compared to the unidentifiable freezer-burned meat that was shoved to the back of the freezer god-knows-when, and it is now at that point when I must decide to either cook it or throw it away. (That is, if it can still be establish as "food". Much like I’m not sure that I can categorize my job as a “career”.)

Anyway, as mentioned, I spent the weekend trying to figure out my life... career…and whatever the hell the strange creature is that seems to appear in my mirror every morning. I realized this weekend that my body (under the cloak of darkness) has been morphing. It seems to be making every attempt to aggravate and bewilder me and it's driving me crazy. Oh Crap! I guess it is happening...I AM experiencing a midlife crisis.(I wonder if this means I have an excuse to buy a sports car.)

I suppose my life plan should include accepting my shape-shifting body, because frankly on my budget, acceptance is all I can afford. This will require embracing my new randomly forming fat pockets. (That is “fat” pockets, not “hot pockets”…this is NOT one of those food analogies.) I will have to learn to adapt to gravity trying to relocate my breasts, and accept the wrinkled looking road map that is starting to appear on my face.

However,in all fairness, I am also learning new things. I have come to understand what is meant by "back fat". I have also learned that ears and noses do NOT stop growing..which adds one more delightful dimension to the “allure” of growing older.

What is a little harder to accept is the Presbyopia (the syndrome which means if you were alive when Elvis Presley was still alive, then you probably need reading glasses). I’m near-sited so I can read fine, but this causes me to forget my glasses, so I am constantly roaming around the world half blind

So, it turn's out that growing older is really just a slow transformation into an amalgamation of Yoda and Mr. Magoo!

I guess I need to include that in my life plan as well.


Sunday, May 15, 2011

My inner pest

We all have an inner voice. Some have a little voice that whispers to them. Mine is a screamer. My inner voice yells at me all the time and it has a tendency to sound like a cross between Sam Kinison and Lucy (of the Charlie Brown cartoons). Sometimes it drowns me out as I’m speaking by giving me such sound advice as “Shut up!”; ”Stop talking!”; “Arrggghh” (that's Lucy); ”What are you wearing?”; “What’s up with your hair?!”; “Crap!” and of course a lot of cussing which I won’t repeat. I have no idea where this inner voice came from… or even when it made its first appearance, but it constantly keeps me on my toes.

Some people say you should follow your inner voice. But I'm fairly certain that my inner voice is not to be followed. I’m not crazy. I don’t have any demons lurking in my psyche. But my inner voice is not one of the wisest of voices. In fact, for the most part when it’s not criticizing me, it’s usually humoring me with interesting but stupid thoughts. The other day it informed me that Bugs Bunny is really a jack rabbit and perhaps should not be trusted. A paranoid jokester...that's my inner voice.


Monday, May 9, 2011

My Inner Pessimism

The list of things I can’t do gets longer every day. There are the obvious ones, like I can’t fly or be a super model. (I’m under 6 feet tall, I eat, and I’ve got human arms and legs...which explains the modeling part... not the flying part.) And there are frustrating things like not having the time or money to travel.

I suppose that I could take the high road and cheerfully describe exotic trips to my kitchen, my treks to the garage, my safari trips through the weeds of the back yard, and I could describe in great detail past archeological digs through the rooms of my kids. But I have decided instead to sulk because I'm lazy and it's easier.

As I age I am starting to have a deep appreciation for the philosophy of the pessimist. For example, let’s say you believe the glass IS half full… is it going to get any fuller? NO, and in all honesty, it will eventually just evaporate. However, if you believe it is half empty you may put some effort into replenishing it. See? The same can be said about the lemonade scenario. An optimist will attempt to make lemonade out of life's lemons. But when a pessimist is handed lemons they are more likely to start looking for the tequila and salt...which I now prefer over lemonade.

Okay, one more attempt to explain my new found pessimism... with a joke. Here goes: Today my optimism turned to pessimism when I spilt my “half-full” glass of wine and it stained the’s just that now I wish it had been half empty.

I'm just saying...


Thursday, May 5, 2011

OMG Yellow?! (true story)

This post is really to give warning to be careful when allowing men to pick colors.

I now believe that my husband, while not necessarily color blind, does wear color blinders. I discovered this when he decided to repaint our house a few years ago. After a visit to Disneyland he decided that he really (really) liked the color of Mickey’s house. (A cute bright yellow and green)

Please make a note…never base a house color on a CARTOON.

What I didn’t realize is that he meant that he was going to paint the house EXACTLY like Mickeys. He went out and got the brightest yellow he could find. He called it “friendly” yellow…our neighbors refered to it as “OH MY GOD THAT'S A BRIGHT" yellow. Yeah, he painted our house OMG yellow. I made a joke about the astronauts seeing it from space, but that didn’t deter him…he said it made him smile. I, on the other hand felt the glare of the neighbors…and heard the whispers of “see…I told you…” and “Oh my god you weren't kidding”.

One evening we were having dinner with some friends and friends of friends who happened to be police officers and one happened to be a helicopter pilot. When we mentioned where we lived he asked us if we knew about the bright yellow house. My husband happily exclaimed that it was ours. I tried to pretend that I didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout no yellow house. (You got nothing on us coppers!) The officer responded with “No shit?”

“Why?” I asked him.

He laughed and told us that they use it for reference… you know… a landmark of sorts...a beacon. (A beacon!? Our house was a beacon for air traffic!!!)

“That’s it!” I shouted ”We are painting that house!”

The next day I went out and got a much softer shade of yellow. As I was painting the front of the house several neighbors came by to thank me. One elderly lady from the neighborhood actually stopped her car in the middle of the road, got out, walked up to me, and asked me if I was painting over the existing "cheerful looking yellow" as she put it. I hesitated for a second thinking that she might be disappointed. I eventually told her yes, and was prepared to explain the whole story. But, as soon as I said “yes” she shouted “Hallelujah! Bless you child” and went on her way.

I'm not sure I will ever quite understand the deep religious reactions people have toward yellow. I do know that if you are ever put in charge of painting a church you may want to consider yellow.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

My Body is a Temple…okay, maybe the Temple of Doom

My doctor is always telling me to take better care of myself and get more exercise. I told him that I do exercise certain parts of my body. In making my point, I showed him just how strong my middle finger was. He didn’t seem to appreciate it much; in fact he threw me out of his office.

It’s not like I’m completely out of shape, I do get exercise. I do chin ups…I lift my chin UP when I’m drinking, especially to get that last bit of my nutritional health drink that some call "wine". Seriously though, it could be worse. I have a friend whose diet plan is to smoke like a fiend and considers coughing part of her daily exercise routine.

Besides, I have seen just how big pants can get. I think giant pants are awesome! I actually got a pair and carry them around with me. I like to hold them up when anyone gives me a condescending look. For some reason it works well as a criticism deterrent. However, most people misunderstand the point. They assume that I once fit into these super-sized pants, when in fact, I’m showing them the grand goal I have set for myself!