I will admit that while I have always wanted to go to Italy I never really took the time to learn that much about it. Pretty much the only thing that I knew for sure what that it looked like a ladies boot. So I did some research and looked at some pictures and was impressed with this gorgeous countryside that I saw.
Our first full day was in a city called San Giamano. It is famous because it still has it's complete wall around it a hundred per cent in tact. the plan was to do some light shopping (there is amazing linen store there) and then climb to the top of the city as the panoramic view from Tuscany is spectacular. After an amazing lunch with several bottles of wine I was ready to attack this city. We climbed and climbed and with each view being more breathtaking then the next. When we finally reached the top I looked at the view and saw another town in the far distance that we were going to and then another. That is when it hit me like a load of unwashed socks...
Italy is a country that is hills and mountains
The cities were built thousands of years ago...into these mountains, when there was no technology. I was going to have to climb to the top of everything that I wanted to see...
SON OF A BITCH!
Ths was validated the next day while in Florence. We were scheduled to tour the Duomo in the center of Florence which once again offered an amazing view. I looked up, saw where I was going, realized there was no lift that was going to get my out of shape behind up there. Getting to the top required climbing up a little less then five hundred stairs that are made of stone. Five hundred stairs that are made of stone, that go up through little hallways that were made for little bitty feet. If you are claustrophobic you will pretty much be dead by the tenth step and if you are even slightly over weight you are simply going to get stuck and die in the stairwells. As I was ascending I thought of the clergy that did this EVERYDAY of their lives and realized that they had to have legs like Tina Turner and an ass tighter then Robert Pattinson's. Oh, and there is no turning around once you start the ascent. It is all or nothing.
I came down exhilarated that I had done it without suffering a mild heart attack and I vowed never would I do this again.
Until the next day, when I repeated the exact same climb with fewer steps at the Duomo in Siena. The only difference was that there were fewer steps and about halfway up when you thought you were actually at the top there was this smug bitch in a beret who cheerfully told you that you only had 117 more steps to climb. Oh, and once you got to the top you only had ten minutes to enjoy the view. Needless to say we stayed up there about thrity minutes, just for spite.
My vacation of climbing to the top of everything reached its peak though when I went to tour the Boboli gardens. It had been explained to me that they were created by one of the de Medici wives who wanted the most gorgeous gardens in the world so I decided we needed to go see them. Kinda sounded like Bellingrath Gardens at Christmas to me! I walked to the Medici Palace entered the gardens and thought we would take a nice leisurely stroll around them. Until I saw that they were terraced gardens and that you had to climb to the top of them. My first inclination was to run like my ass was on fire but then I saw Jeff take his first weary step up them and decided to follow.
I spent my vacation climbing to the top of everything in Italy and I wouldn't change it for the world and I got to great feelings. The first was obvious. I got to see places and things that most never get to see. The second was that when I return to Italy with folks who have never been I can tell them "you have to climb to the top of the Duomo. It's the most amazing view." I can then sit back and grin while I sip on a cocktail as they wearily enter the building!
Made a wrong turn once or twice...Welcome to my silly life
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
My Own Melrose Place
So it has been a while since I have posted and it is because I just didn't find anything that was quite interesting to say. Sure, in the month I have been away from this blog a lot has happened. The political world keeps getting turned upside down, hurricanes have struck, someone named Drew Peterson (not to be confused with Scott Peterson, as I did) was convicted of killing his third wife and most importantly Kris Kardashian got herself another boob job.
the fact that I only know about the last one of these sometimes worries me. Jeff tells me all the time that if it doesn't happen at 2901 Grant Street, I really don't seem to have a use for it. Unfortunately for myself I have found this to be somewhat true. Only because GREAT things happen at 2901 Grant Street. In fact, it could be my break out bestseller....if I would ever write a break out best seller....
Our across the parking neighbor and Jeff apparently have waged all out war against each other and I must say that I am taking a fair bit of delight in watching this play out. I have no idea our neighbors background but I truly think that she is Hilly Holbrook from "The Help" who has moved to our complex because she still has quite gotten over eating that sh*t pie. She complained about everything and I mean everything that happened in Unit 601 until finally he lost every bit of southern grace and charm he was raised with and told both her and the board of directors that if she uttered one more word in our direction he was suing her for everything that she had. As this equates to a 1993 powder blue Bonneville, and invalid husband, and the most wretched cat on the planet I don't think we would be winning end if we won said lawsuit. Anyway, this was enough to have Hilly (or Miss Hilly as I have had Chloee start calling her...to her face) slink inside her courtyard, or dumpster area, pool, or clubhouse every time we see her.
Recently we also had a complex resident pass away after she fell down a flight of steps and broke her neck. While I don't find the death of anyone humorous, the way the members of our complex reacted to it was priceless. Everywhere I looked there were people who were tearlessly crying into perfectly ironed handkerchiefs all trying to catch a glimpseof the tragedy which has befallen complex 1703. All you could hear were quiet whispers and all you could see was the mournful shaking of heads. Chloee and I hugged everyone and told them how sorry we were, letting them know if there was anything we could do to let us know...then we got our towels and went to the pool. The next day of course her parking space was happily occupied by her neighbor because it was, after all, closer to her house.
My newest neighbor though is the one who gives me the greatest since that I truly do live in my own Melrose Place. She is a doll of a woman who frequently comes over to borrow cups of vodka. Not sugar, not milk, not cream...vodka. Said vodka is usually poured into a styrofoam cup containing a little melted ice with a straw and off she goes. Recently separated from her husband she also has stored (and by stored I mean hidden) many things in my own Unit and even hid her Mercedes from her soon to be ex-husband as a bargaining chip to get her divorce taken care of quicker. She freely walks on my courtyard and taps on the glass before entering to get her vodka, lament about her day, and then sway back home. This would normally get on my nerves, but I find it to be comic relief to an otherwise work filled day. Until two o'clock comes and she is screaming on her cell phone on her court yard, throwing up, and sobbing. We woke up a few Sundays ago and the entire front end was ripped off her Tahoe. When I asked her what was wrong she said it involved "a light pole and bad decisions." Common sense dictated that I not take the conversation any further.
The reason I can talk about all of this is because I, or course, was the cause of our biggest tragedy when I burned the top floor of my complex down. That's right. Nothing says re-sizing like a fire and when you can pretty much end up sweeping the contents of your life into a plastic bag you are pretty humble. It has been nicknamed "the Incident at 601", which I actually kinda sorta really like.
This is simply the tip of what goes in My Own Melrose Place. Some buildings are quiet, some are not. Some residents are amazing and I can tell you that based on the way some act they are going to straight to hell when all is said and done....You know, if anyone knows how to forward my life to the "E" Network, I would be happy to let them follow me around with a camera for a couple of weeks....you know, to show those Kardashians and that damned "Honey Boo Boo" what a true unscripted reality series is!
the fact that I only know about the last one of these sometimes worries me. Jeff tells me all the time that if it doesn't happen at 2901 Grant Street, I really don't seem to have a use for it. Unfortunately for myself I have found this to be somewhat true. Only because GREAT things happen at 2901 Grant Street. In fact, it could be my break out bestseller....if I would ever write a break out best seller....
Our across the parking neighbor and Jeff apparently have waged all out war against each other and I must say that I am taking a fair bit of delight in watching this play out. I have no idea our neighbors background but I truly think that she is Hilly Holbrook from "The Help" who has moved to our complex because she still has quite gotten over eating that sh*t pie. She complained about everything and I mean everything that happened in Unit 601 until finally he lost every bit of southern grace and charm he was raised with and told both her and the board of directors that if she uttered one more word in our direction he was suing her for everything that she had. As this equates to a 1993 powder blue Bonneville, and invalid husband, and the most wretched cat on the planet I don't think we would be winning end if we won said lawsuit. Anyway, this was enough to have Hilly (or Miss Hilly as I have had Chloee start calling her...to her face) slink inside her courtyard, or dumpster area, pool, or clubhouse every time we see her.
Recently we also had a complex resident pass away after she fell down a flight of steps and broke her neck. While I don't find the death of anyone humorous, the way the members of our complex reacted to it was priceless. Everywhere I looked there were people who were tearlessly crying into perfectly ironed handkerchiefs all trying to catch a glimpseof the tragedy which has befallen complex 1703. All you could hear were quiet whispers and all you could see was the mournful shaking of heads. Chloee and I hugged everyone and told them how sorry we were, letting them know if there was anything we could do to let us know...then we got our towels and went to the pool. The next day of course her parking space was happily occupied by her neighbor because it was, after all, closer to her house.
My newest neighbor though is the one who gives me the greatest since that I truly do live in my own Melrose Place. She is a doll of a woman who frequently comes over to borrow cups of vodka. Not sugar, not milk, not cream...vodka. Said vodka is usually poured into a styrofoam cup containing a little melted ice with a straw and off she goes. Recently separated from her husband she also has stored (and by stored I mean hidden) many things in my own Unit and even hid her Mercedes from her soon to be ex-husband as a bargaining chip to get her divorce taken care of quicker. She freely walks on my courtyard and taps on the glass before entering to get her vodka, lament about her day, and then sway back home. This would normally get on my nerves, but I find it to be comic relief to an otherwise work filled day. Until two o'clock comes and she is screaming on her cell phone on her court yard, throwing up, and sobbing. We woke up a few Sundays ago and the entire front end was ripped off her Tahoe. When I asked her what was wrong she said it involved "a light pole and bad decisions." Common sense dictated that I not take the conversation any further.
The reason I can talk about all of this is because I, or course, was the cause of our biggest tragedy when I burned the top floor of my complex down. That's right. Nothing says re-sizing like a fire and when you can pretty much end up sweeping the contents of your life into a plastic bag you are pretty humble. It has been nicknamed "the Incident at 601", which I actually kinda sorta really like.
This is simply the tip of what goes in My Own Melrose Place. Some buildings are quiet, some are not. Some residents are amazing and I can tell you that based on the way some act they are going to straight to hell when all is said and done....You know, if anyone knows how to forward my life to the "E" Network, I would be happy to let them follow me around with a camera for a couple of weeks....you know, to show those Kardashians and that damned "Honey Boo Boo" what a true unscripted reality series is!
Monday, July 9, 2012
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU...
As most everyone who knows me knows, I will be 41 next month. When I was younger I started a 30 day countdown until my birthday so everyone would be aware of the number of shopping days there were until said birthday happened. These days, while I could care less about how old I am, I also would much prefer a nice dinner with my friends somewhere the night of my birthday. Seriously, gifts are not important to me.
I wish that the first year of my forties would have listened to me when I told everyone this. Apparently it took it upon itself to get me a few things. I wish it would have also given me the receipts for these things as I would gladly like to return them.
I have had insomnia ever since I can remember so not going to sleep is nothing new for me. However, I was relatively surprised when after I took a sleep study to find out that I have sleep apnea. Oh and not only do I have sleep apnea, I have one of the most severe cases noted in a person my age. I always have been an over achiever. When I told this to Jeff I was met with a nod and an "I told you so" face, which I will admit that I readily deserved. Now when I go to bed I take a sleeping pill and put on a mask with a hose running from it that attaches to a machine on my night stand which constantly circulates air to help me breathe AND matches absolutely nothing my bedroom. I have never seen a Storm Trooper from "Star Wars" sleep, but if I were a betting man I would think that it would look a lot like me.
Glasses are something else that I have had since I was about thirteen or fourteen years old and I will admit that I am a glasses man. If I put on a pair of contact lenses it is for one purpose only...to change my eye color to match what I am wearing. Glasses however give about 99% of the world the look that they know what is going on. They are especially good props for meetings where you feel like you have to make the impression that you are really smart. (I also use my college class ring as a similar prop). Last week I went to LensCrafters to get my new glasses, all ready to hear the familiar "your prescription is enough to be annoying" speech from the doctor. Not so much. I was told after my exam that I needed bifocals. Certainly there has to be a mistake I said when she reminded me that I was about to be 41 and that this was a natural progression to aging. My own natural progression was to tell her a thing or two about herself that she could change, like her blue eye shadow, but I just took my prescription to the attendant, picked out a pair of ridiculously overpriced Prada frames that I thought benefited an old, blind mine and headed to happy hour to work all of this out.
Now I know that these gifts are meant to help me. One of the main ways you can tell someone is alive is when they are breathing and reading can be quite difficult when your vision always looks like that you went swimming with your eyes open in an over chlorinated swimming pool. I am interested in seeing what gifts my forty first birthday produces. I am already ignoring people so I will know what it is like when I really can't hear them!
I wish that the first year of my forties would have listened to me when I told everyone this. Apparently it took it upon itself to get me a few things. I wish it would have also given me the receipts for these things as I would gladly like to return them.
I have had insomnia ever since I can remember so not going to sleep is nothing new for me. However, I was relatively surprised when after I took a sleep study to find out that I have sleep apnea. Oh and not only do I have sleep apnea, I have one of the most severe cases noted in a person my age. I always have been an over achiever. When I told this to Jeff I was met with a nod and an "I told you so" face, which I will admit that I readily deserved. Now when I go to bed I take a sleeping pill and put on a mask with a hose running from it that attaches to a machine on my night stand which constantly circulates air to help me breathe AND matches absolutely nothing my bedroom. I have never seen a Storm Trooper from "Star Wars" sleep, but if I were a betting man I would think that it would look a lot like me.
Glasses are something else that I have had since I was about thirteen or fourteen years old and I will admit that I am a glasses man. If I put on a pair of contact lenses it is for one purpose only...to change my eye color to match what I am wearing. Glasses however give about 99% of the world the look that they know what is going on. They are especially good props for meetings where you feel like you have to make the impression that you are really smart. (I also use my college class ring as a similar prop). Last week I went to LensCrafters to get my new glasses, all ready to hear the familiar "your prescription is enough to be annoying" speech from the doctor. Not so much. I was told after my exam that I needed bifocals. Certainly there has to be a mistake I said when she reminded me that I was about to be 41 and that this was a natural progression to aging. My own natural progression was to tell her a thing or two about herself that she could change, like her blue eye shadow, but I just took my prescription to the attendant, picked out a pair of ridiculously overpriced Prada frames that I thought benefited an old, blind mine and headed to happy hour to work all of this out.
Now I know that these gifts are meant to help me. One of the main ways you can tell someone is alive is when they are breathing and reading can be quite difficult when your vision always looks like that you went swimming with your eyes open in an over chlorinated swimming pool. I am interested in seeing what gifts my forty first birthday produces. I am already ignoring people so I will know what it is like when I really can't hear them!
Thursday, June 21, 2012
I'M SO EXCITED, I'M SO EXCITED...I'M SO...SCARED!
Well, in reference to my upcoming forty first birthday I am neither excited nor am I scared. You see, I have never been one that got anxious about a birthday nor did have I ever dreaded one. Okay, I will readily admit that I turned 25 with a little bit of trepidation but it was only because I was not yet safely installed in my New York City apartment that I was going to buy after Oprah reviewed my very first breakout novel that was going to make me more famous then Brett Easton Ellis was after writing Less Than Zero. Even last year when people we going around with big, goofy smiles saying "someone's going to be forty soon!" or "guess who's going to be forty soon?" I wasn't bothered. Yes, I showed them all up by turning forty in Manhattan with one of my best friends but I didn't do it because I thought I had a point to prove. Well, maybe I did.
My point here however is that birthdays or my age in general don't bother me. Or they didn't until two very recent events that made me long for the days when I sold hermit crabs in Gulf Shores and my biggest worry was how quickly I could get to the Flora-Bama after I got off work.
A friend of mine who is two years younger then me has two daughters who somehow managed to get hold of her wallet. Her oldes daughter came running up to her with a look of shock on her face and pointed to her drivers license and asked "Mom! Were you really born in the 1900's?"
I almost choked on my vodka and sprite. I remember being in school and when the word "hundreds" was added to anything it meant that thing was old. No two ways about it. It was old. Never before had a gauged my age to anything. I wasn't alive when Kennedy was killed, when the first man walked on the moon, or when Hurricane Camille made landfall and I considered all of these things benchmarks to my age.
Until it hit me that all of these things happened in the 1900's. The century I was born in. The 100 years in which I was born in that are now over.
Well, I somehow managed to pull myself together from this and went on about life fully aware that my birth century was gone but that I was still very young in body and even younger in heart.
Until this happened.
My Mardi Gras organization had come up with the theme of "The Golden Age of Television" as a theme and we were all picking what our individual thing was going to be. When "Saved By The Bell" was picked I was more excited then I should have been. I men I remember when the show was called "Good Morning, Miss Bliss" for Gods sake. As I was making note of this someone next to me whispered "I've never heard of that show. When did it come on?" After explaining the show to her and recounting the years that it came on her response was, and not out of malice, "Oh, I think my Mom watched that when I was a baby." The look on my face had to have been the exact same one that I gave my mother when I begged her to buy me the cassette of "Private Dancer" by this awesome new singer named Tina Turner.
I almost threw up.
I remember AC Slaters first day of school, Principal Belding, Zach taking Kelly to their own prom, and of course Jessie Spano's infamous caffeine pill addiction were she lamented that she was so excited and yet so scared! Caffeine pills!?!
I still don't mind my birthdays and I still don't care how old I am, after all, the alternative could be much worse. However it is a little unsettling to think that the century you were born in is over and the parents of a friend of yours watched one of your favorite shows on television the same time you did. I'm just waiting for someone to ask me if I have seen that new great show called "Dallas" that just started.
My point here however is that birthdays or my age in general don't bother me. Or they didn't until two very recent events that made me long for the days when I sold hermit crabs in Gulf Shores and my biggest worry was how quickly I could get to the Flora-Bama after I got off work.
A friend of mine who is two years younger then me has two daughters who somehow managed to get hold of her wallet. Her oldes daughter came running up to her with a look of shock on her face and pointed to her drivers license and asked "Mom! Were you really born in the 1900's?"
I almost choked on my vodka and sprite. I remember being in school and when the word "hundreds" was added to anything it meant that thing was old. No two ways about it. It was old. Never before had a gauged my age to anything. I wasn't alive when Kennedy was killed, when the first man walked on the moon, or when Hurricane Camille made landfall and I considered all of these things benchmarks to my age.
Until it hit me that all of these things happened in the 1900's. The century I was born in. The 100 years in which I was born in that are now over.
Well, I somehow managed to pull myself together from this and went on about life fully aware that my birth century was gone but that I was still very young in body and even younger in heart.
Until this happened.
My Mardi Gras organization had come up with the theme of "The Golden Age of Television" as a theme and we were all picking what our individual thing was going to be. When "Saved By The Bell" was picked I was more excited then I should have been. I men I remember when the show was called "Good Morning, Miss Bliss" for Gods sake. As I was making note of this someone next to me whispered "I've never heard of that show. When did it come on?" After explaining the show to her and recounting the years that it came on her response was, and not out of malice, "Oh, I think my Mom watched that when I was a baby." The look on my face had to have been the exact same one that I gave my mother when I begged her to buy me the cassette of "Private Dancer" by this awesome new singer named Tina Turner.
I almost threw up.
I remember AC Slaters first day of school, Principal Belding, Zach taking Kelly to their own prom, and of course Jessie Spano's infamous caffeine pill addiction were she lamented that she was so excited and yet so scared! Caffeine pills!?!
I still don't mind my birthdays and I still don't care how old I am, after all, the alternative could be much worse. However it is a little unsettling to think that the century you were born in is over and the parents of a friend of yours watched one of your favorite shows on television the same time you did. I'm just waiting for someone to ask me if I have seen that new great show called "Dallas" that just started.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
I'M A PEOPLE PERSON!!!!
I have recently been sitting in on interviews at work. I rarely have to do this and I am very glad. It's not that I mind interviews, nor do I mind sitting in on them. However, there are a few things that can make me turn off to whatever else you have to say in an interview and start singing show tunes to myself in my head...
When I ask you to describe yourself to me I don't want to hear that you are organized as that is something that you can't prove to me. I have never opened your junk drawer nor seen how your closet is arranged so when you tell me you are organized to a fault I am either going to hear "I am obsessive compulsive" or "I am lying". Also, don't ever tell me how organized you are while fishing through a purse the size of a number three washtub for your drivers license when I tell you I need to make a copy of it.
Not to offend anyone's sense of religion, but when I ask you what your greatest achievement is the answer is not your love of the Lord and his ability to pull you through. I have no doubt of your love or your belief in a higher conviction but that answer is not going to tell me anything about how you are going to perform as an employee.
Gum chewing is no no and one that is going to irritate me to distraction.
When I ask you what your greatest weakness is your answer, under no circumstance, is "I don't think I have one." Here is hint, if you tell me you don't have a weakness, I automatically assume that you have two weaknesses. You are arrogant and you are conceited. The flip side of this is that I also don't want to hear "I tend to procrastinate (I am not going to procrastinate in not hiring you) not do I want to hear something like "I tend to fall in love to easily" If your answer sounds like it came from a fortune cookie I am not interested.
Most when asked to describe yourself there is no such thing as a "people person". If I had a nickle every time I heard, "I love people!" or "I am a people person" I wouldn't be interviewing you because I wouldn't have to work. The very fact that you are alive makes you a people person because you are a person who is part of the people. The funny thing about the phrase "people person" is that, whenever I ask someone to tell me what that means they say "I am good with people. Okay.
Interviews were meant to highlight your strengths and be honest about your weaknesses. You aren't accepting an Academy Award for best actor in a mini-series so I expect you to be yourself. You know, a highly organized, gum chewing, God fearing people person...
When I ask you to describe yourself to me I don't want to hear that you are organized as that is something that you can't prove to me. I have never opened your junk drawer nor seen how your closet is arranged so when you tell me you are organized to a fault I am either going to hear "I am obsessive compulsive" or "I am lying". Also, don't ever tell me how organized you are while fishing through a purse the size of a number three washtub for your drivers license when I tell you I need to make a copy of it.
Not to offend anyone's sense of religion, but when I ask you what your greatest achievement is the answer is not your love of the Lord and his ability to pull you through. I have no doubt of your love or your belief in a higher conviction but that answer is not going to tell me anything about how you are going to perform as an employee.
Gum chewing is no no and one that is going to irritate me to distraction.
When I ask you what your greatest weakness is your answer, under no circumstance, is "I don't think I have one." Here is hint, if you tell me you don't have a weakness, I automatically assume that you have two weaknesses. You are arrogant and you are conceited. The flip side of this is that I also don't want to hear "I tend to procrastinate (I am not going to procrastinate in not hiring you) not do I want to hear something like "I tend to fall in love to easily" If your answer sounds like it came from a fortune cookie I am not interested.
Most when asked to describe yourself there is no such thing as a "people person". If I had a nickle every time I heard, "I love people!" or "I am a people person" I wouldn't be interviewing you because I wouldn't have to work. The very fact that you are alive makes you a people person because you are a person who is part of the people. The funny thing about the phrase "people person" is that, whenever I ask someone to tell me what that means they say "I am good with people. Okay.
Interviews were meant to highlight your strengths and be honest about your weaknesses. You aren't accepting an Academy Award for best actor in a mini-series so I expect you to be yourself. You know, a highly organized, gum chewing, God fearing people person...
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Hmmmmmm
I have prided myself on being a relatively smart man. I did well in school, I am a relatively good conversationalist and even though I am opinionated I do have an open mind. I have posted before though that there are some things in the world that I just don't understand:
1. Politics in general - I have never quite understood them so I don't discuss them., much the same way that I don't really talk about religion. I'm Catholic, and honestly it doesn't bother me that you're not.
2. El Nino or LaNina: I don't know who these Latino siblings are or where they came from but their power to control my weather from wherever their homeland is amazes me.
3. Kony2012 I am sure this is political, hence my complete and utter confusion on it.
4. The inner workings of a microwave over. The fact that after my house burned there were still uncooked potatoes in it, yet putting them in a metal box for four minutes and they are BLOWS MY MIND. I don't know why we aren't currently all glowing in the dark. I just don't trust something that gets that hot that quickly with no visible means of fire.
5. Fax machines. There is no way to even attempt to explain this to me because I am never going to get it.
6. The Olsen Twins. If I am being honest, I am not sure if I don't understand them or if my blinding hate of them is what is keeping me from embracing both their fashion and action brilliance
7. Polyester. I don't even think I need to expound on this.
That aside, I'd like to revisit number one on this list because I think that in today's world people hide behind politics and religion in order to hammer a point home and usually it is a point that they do not have any understanding on. I have found, as have most people, that if you are against interracial marriage you probably are not in one. If you are against gay marriage, my bet is that you are straight and if you fell that a same sex couple shouldn't adopt or raise a child together then you probably had heterosexual parents.
See, here is how I think the world should work, and it may be simple but it works for me - If you are against interracial marriage, marry within your own race. If you are against gay marriage, I would strongly you not marry a gay person. If you don't want your child raised by a same sex couple then refer to not marrying someone of your own sex.
As I see it none of these problems are about politics or religion. They are issues of love an commitment. Which are things that we are all entitled to...and no higher being, whether it be political or spiritual should care about that!
1. Politics in general - I have never quite understood them so I don't discuss them., much the same way that I don't really talk about religion. I'm Catholic, and honestly it doesn't bother me that you're not.
2. El Nino or LaNina: I don't know who these Latino siblings are or where they came from but their power to control my weather from wherever their homeland is amazes me.
3. Kony2012 I am sure this is political, hence my complete and utter confusion on it.
4. The inner workings of a microwave over. The fact that after my house burned there were still uncooked potatoes in it, yet putting them in a metal box for four minutes and they are BLOWS MY MIND. I don't know why we aren't currently all glowing in the dark. I just don't trust something that gets that hot that quickly with no visible means of fire.
5. Fax machines. There is no way to even attempt to explain this to me because I am never going to get it.
6. The Olsen Twins. If I am being honest, I am not sure if I don't understand them or if my blinding hate of them is what is keeping me from embracing both their fashion and action brilliance
7. Polyester. I don't even think I need to expound on this.
That aside, I'd like to revisit number one on this list because I think that in today's world people hide behind politics and religion in order to hammer a point home and usually it is a point that they do not have any understanding on. I have found, as have most people, that if you are against interracial marriage you probably are not in one. If you are against gay marriage, my bet is that you are straight and if you fell that a same sex couple shouldn't adopt or raise a child together then you probably had heterosexual parents.
See, here is how I think the world should work, and it may be simple but it works for me - If you are against interracial marriage, marry within your own race. If you are against gay marriage, I would strongly you not marry a gay person. If you don't want your child raised by a same sex couple then refer to not marrying someone of your own sex.
As I see it none of these problems are about politics or religion. They are issues of love an commitment. Which are things that we are all entitled to...and no higher being, whether it be political or spiritual should care about that!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Apparently Eight Isn't Enough....
It is no secret that I have a disdain for a lot of reality television and don't quite understand the appeal of it. No, I am not speaking of the Kartrashians...it is pretty clear that their meteoric rise to super star status both bewilders and pisses me off at the same time. No, the things I don't understand are far more simple. They include:
1. How the real housewives are called housewives when most of them are divorced. To be a wife you either need a husband or another wife.
2. Theresa Caputo on "Long Island Medium" can not talk to the dead. Period. End of discussion
3. On "Say Yes to the Dress" if you are not marrying me I don't give a damn what your dress looks like. Who am I kidding? If you are marrying me you wont be wearing a dress.
4. As I have mentioned before, if you are on "Extreme Couponers" and you are buying things like cat food and diapers when you don't have a cat or a baby you need help I can't give you.
5. The Duggars
While these things and others I have not mentioned do not generally cause me the same amount of heartburn as my sisters Kourtnee, Kim and Khloe do, there is someone out there who does. She has yet to have her own "reality" series but she has been making the rounds ever since she did what can only be described as the most ridiculous thing in the world. My disdain for her runs far deeper then it does for the Kartrashians.
She is Octomom.
There really are no words in any language that I think are quite strong enough for her but the first one that pops in my head is "stupid." I remember thinking when she first popped out that she was going to have her hands full with eight bundles of joy then I heard that she already had six waiting for her when she got out of the hospital and that she had not conceived ANY of them naturally. She was in financial straits before she got pregnant with her octuplets. Now, I have never been a mother but a lot of my friends are and I think that any mother worth her salt will tell you there is nothing more precious then the time they spend with their children. This time is cut dramatically short though when you have fourteen of them with eight being exactly the same age. Now I have a brother who is seven and half years younger then me and together we ran our poor mother to death. If she would have had TWELVE others between us I am certain that she probably would have started giving some of us away because there was no way she could have ever kept up with us,much less fed us.
Which brings me to my next set of issues with her. According to news reports she is living in squalor, her kids are wearing clothes belonging to the opposite sex, she is about to lose her house, she has filed for bankruptcy and she is about to resort to doing porn. WHAT. THE. HELL. I understand people fall on hard times and I understand that you do whatever you need to do to take care of them. However, had you not been so foolish as to bring these helpless children into the world with no other help you would not be in this situation...not to mention that I can't think of anyone on the planet that wants to see this beast do any kind of porn.
So, Ocotmom, this is what I want to happen. I want you to open your eyes, realize you can not care for these children and let them be put with people who will love and support them. Do not keep crawling your skanky ass on "Entertainment Tonight" trying to get a reality television deal because apparently the only show you are qualified to be on is HOARDERS.
1. How the real housewives are called housewives when most of them are divorced. To be a wife you either need a husband or another wife.
2. Theresa Caputo on "Long Island Medium" can not talk to the dead. Period. End of discussion
3. On "Say Yes to the Dress" if you are not marrying me I don't give a damn what your dress looks like. Who am I kidding? If you are marrying me you wont be wearing a dress.
4. As I have mentioned before, if you are on "Extreme Couponers" and you are buying things like cat food and diapers when you don't have a cat or a baby you need help I can't give you.
5. The Duggars
While these things and others I have not mentioned do not generally cause me the same amount of heartburn as my sisters Kourtnee, Kim and Khloe do, there is someone out there who does. She has yet to have her own "reality" series but she has been making the rounds ever since she did what can only be described as the most ridiculous thing in the world. My disdain for her runs far deeper then it does for the Kartrashians.
She is Octomom.
There really are no words in any language that I think are quite strong enough for her but the first one that pops in my head is "stupid." I remember thinking when she first popped out that she was going to have her hands full with eight bundles of joy then I heard that she already had six waiting for her when she got out of the hospital and that she had not conceived ANY of them naturally. She was in financial straits before she got pregnant with her octuplets. Now, I have never been a mother but a lot of my friends are and I think that any mother worth her salt will tell you there is nothing more precious then the time they spend with their children. This time is cut dramatically short though when you have fourteen of them with eight being exactly the same age. Now I have a brother who is seven and half years younger then me and together we ran our poor mother to death. If she would have had TWELVE others between us I am certain that she probably would have started giving some of us away because there was no way she could have ever kept up with us,much less fed us.
Which brings me to my next set of issues with her. According to news reports she is living in squalor, her kids are wearing clothes belonging to the opposite sex, she is about to lose her house, she has filed for bankruptcy and she is about to resort to doing porn. WHAT. THE. HELL. I understand people fall on hard times and I understand that you do whatever you need to do to take care of them. However, had you not been so foolish as to bring these helpless children into the world with no other help you would not be in this situation...not to mention that I can't think of anyone on the planet that wants to see this beast do any kind of porn.
So, Ocotmom, this is what I want to happen. I want you to open your eyes, realize you can not care for these children and let them be put with people who will love and support them. Do not keep crawling your skanky ass on "Entertainment Tonight" trying to get a reality television deal because apparently the only show you are qualified to be on is HOARDERS.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Dear Travis,
So I have been hearing recently about this exercise where you actually sit down and write a letter to your younger self and you give him or her advice about the life that you are going to face. I initially thought this was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard because my younger self had already lived my life so who was I really giving advice to and why would my younger self even want to take advice from me when my life was nothing but one big hot mess? Then I thought about it a little more and figured out that everyone, including me and my former self, could benefit from my advice so why not....
Dear Travis,
I am writing this to you on the cusp of my 41st birthday. I have no idea how old you are right now in the time/space continuum in which you live but I hope that, at whatever age you are when you read this, it gives you some insight into what your life will be like.
First, you have AMAZING parents. Wherever you are right now you probably don't believe me. You think your mother is to loud and that your father always agrees with her but they love you like no one else does and they are the most supportive people in the world. Eventually you will see them age and realize how lucky you are that you have had them in your life for as long as you have. Their only fault is that they will do TOO good of a job raising you and when you do go out on your own you will realize that clothes don't wash themselves, condiments don't grow in the pantry, and even though it falls freely from the sky, your water will be turned off if you refuse to pay the bill.
Thanks to your late summer birthday you will be younger then everyone in all your classes and your maturity level wont really even out with your classmates until high school. This will be a struggle for you well into college when you will realize that your academic ability far exceeds your social skills. You wont really come into your own til your mid twenties when your body and mind finally catch up with one another.
The filter between your mind and mouth will fail you on numerous occasions and you your words will hurt those closest to you. While you wont realize it when it happens this will teach you, as an adult, the power of an honest apology. You will learn that the pain from words last s far longer then the sting of slap.
You will eventually appreciate your younger brother. Yes, he is annoying now, and yes you think everyone likes him more then you do, but he ends up being a great guy that marries the perfect girl and has a handsome son. You'll talk every week and look forward to holiday visits after he moves away from Mobile.
You'll meet great friends who enjoy weekly dinners. You'll take amazing trips far out of Alabama and you'll get to do things that right now you've only read about. You aren't moving to New York, even though right now you know it is totally in your future and you can go ahead and take the Oscar acceptance speech that you have folded i your wallet out and store it someplace safe. I'm not saying you'll never use it, but the place you have reserved for the statue in your curio is still empty.
You have accepted that you will be single for the rest of your life and that you wont have any children, but the month after you turn 26 that will all change and the older you get the more Easter eggs you will dye, the more uniforms you will buy and the more stockings you will see on your mantle at Christmas.
You will go through hard times. You'll face down enemies and endure the betrayal of false friends. You will think that this kind of thing is only happening to you but you will grow to realize that it happens to everyone.
Eventually you will read about this exercise and you'll think it is crazy. You'll look at your own life with a pen and paper in front of you trying to detail all of the things that you would change if you could go back and do it over again and you'll be surprised when, after serious contemplation, that paper is blank.
You wouldn't go back and relive it, but you also wouldn't change it. All of the good, bad and ugly is what led you to this place in your life, which apparently is right where you want to be.
So, wherever you are, enjoy these next years. Trust me, it's one hell of a ride.
Love,
You
Dear Travis,
I am writing this to you on the cusp of my 41st birthday. I have no idea how old you are right now in the time/space continuum in which you live but I hope that, at whatever age you are when you read this, it gives you some insight into what your life will be like.
First, you have AMAZING parents. Wherever you are right now you probably don't believe me. You think your mother is to loud and that your father always agrees with her but they love you like no one else does and they are the most supportive people in the world. Eventually you will see them age and realize how lucky you are that you have had them in your life for as long as you have. Their only fault is that they will do TOO good of a job raising you and when you do go out on your own you will realize that clothes don't wash themselves, condiments don't grow in the pantry, and even though it falls freely from the sky, your water will be turned off if you refuse to pay the bill.
Thanks to your late summer birthday you will be younger then everyone in all your classes and your maturity level wont really even out with your classmates until high school. This will be a struggle for you well into college when you will realize that your academic ability far exceeds your social skills. You wont really come into your own til your mid twenties when your body and mind finally catch up with one another.
The filter between your mind and mouth will fail you on numerous occasions and you your words will hurt those closest to you. While you wont realize it when it happens this will teach you, as an adult, the power of an honest apology. You will learn that the pain from words last s far longer then the sting of slap.
You will eventually appreciate your younger brother. Yes, he is annoying now, and yes you think everyone likes him more then you do, but he ends up being a great guy that marries the perfect girl and has a handsome son. You'll talk every week and look forward to holiday visits after he moves away from Mobile.
You'll meet great friends who enjoy weekly dinners. You'll take amazing trips far out of Alabama and you'll get to do things that right now you've only read about. You aren't moving to New York, even though right now you know it is totally in your future and you can go ahead and take the Oscar acceptance speech that you have folded i your wallet out and store it someplace safe. I'm not saying you'll never use it, but the place you have reserved for the statue in your curio is still empty.
You have accepted that you will be single for the rest of your life and that you wont have any children, but the month after you turn 26 that will all change and the older you get the more Easter eggs you will dye, the more uniforms you will buy and the more stockings you will see on your mantle at Christmas.
You will go through hard times. You'll face down enemies and endure the betrayal of false friends. You will think that this kind of thing is only happening to you but you will grow to realize that it happens to everyone.
Eventually you will read about this exercise and you'll think it is crazy. You'll look at your own life with a pen and paper in front of you trying to detail all of the things that you would change if you could go back and do it over again and you'll be surprised when, after serious contemplation, that paper is blank.
You wouldn't go back and relive it, but you also wouldn't change it. All of the good, bad and ugly is what led you to this place in your life, which apparently is right where you want to be.
So, wherever you are, enjoy these next years. Trust me, it's one hell of a ride.
Love,
You
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Honey Boo Boo Child
Something settled over Mobile yesterday. Something worse then the floods, the locusts, acid rain or even polyester.
I'm talking about "Toddlers and Tiaras"
I was minding my own business yesterday when suddenly I got a migraine so bad, blinding even, that I knew exactly what Obi Won Kinobi was speaking of when he said there was a disturbance in the Force. After some research I had found the the team of "Toddlers and Tiaras" was in Mobile.
Now if you aren't familiar with this show, and I really can't how you wouldn't be, let me briefly explain it to you. Mothers pimp their daughters out for trophies, crowns, and cash. That is the plain and simple of it. Imagine, if you will, the Kartrashians as infants.
Now, I know that all parents think their infant, toddler, and even pre-teen and teenage child is gorgeous. Even with greasy hair, braces, and ill fitting hand me downs. It takes a special parent though to weave fake bangs in their kids hair, give them a spray tan insert artificial bridges in their teeth and send them waltzing down a runway for the hope of being " Little Miss Insert Witty Category Title Here". It seems to me that would be a childhood like none other. They flash mega-watt fake smiles, toss their over colored hair, wave with hands that have fake nails, in hopes of being crowned. Because that is exactly what happens in everyday life. Hell, that isn't even how it is in Snow White.
I will admit, I have watched "Toddlers and Tiaras", only because about a month ago, one of them went viral when she called the world Honey Boo Boo Child and that a dollar made her "hollar" I thought to myself, who would do that to their daughter? When they showed her extreme couponing Jabba the Hutt stand in mother I understood. This "woman" began explaining the pageant circuit and what it was teaching her daughter...then, on national television, she burped. Thank God pageants are teaching her something because this bad permed horror story certainly wasn't.
I thought I had seen enough of this to last me a lifetime until self described beauty queen Alaina began speaking of her special juice that was going to help her win and that she could feel it "kickin' in" Now we all know the only thing that someone uses the phrase kicking in to describe are drugs of some kind and when I saw this beast turn up a bottle of Mountain Dew that had been mixed with Red Bull I almost called the department of Human Services myself. At this point though she was so annoying I was praying that someone would give her a package of pop-rocks on the thought that her insides would literally explode right in front of our very eyes because the only thing she had learned was how to be a money hungry, fame seeking, caffeine guzzling bitch...maybe she is a Kartrashian after all.
I understand that kids need hobbies. I get that. Hobby-less kids end up sitting in dark room building bombs while their unsuspecting parents never once look in on them. I also get that while there are "stage parents" in every sport or activity that a child will be involved in. We have all seen dads coaching from sidelines and mothers simulating a cheer routine in the hopes that their kids would get to experience the thrill of victory instead of the agony of defeat. That's okay. What isn't okay is clipping in fake hair, applying makeup with a trowel, and giving botox to a child that hardly knows their ABC's...
Unless of course your name is Kris and your children are Kourtney, Kim and Khloe...
I'm talking about "Toddlers and Tiaras"
I was minding my own business yesterday when suddenly I got a migraine so bad, blinding even, that I knew exactly what Obi Won Kinobi was speaking of when he said there was a disturbance in the Force. After some research I had found the the team of "Toddlers and Tiaras" was in Mobile.
Now if you aren't familiar with this show, and I really can't how you wouldn't be, let me briefly explain it to you. Mothers pimp their daughters out for trophies, crowns, and cash. That is the plain and simple of it. Imagine, if you will, the Kartrashians as infants.
Now, I know that all parents think their infant, toddler, and even pre-teen and teenage child is gorgeous. Even with greasy hair, braces, and ill fitting hand me downs. It takes a special parent though to weave fake bangs in their kids hair, give them a spray tan insert artificial bridges in their teeth and send them waltzing down a runway for the hope of being " Little Miss Insert Witty Category Title Here". It seems to me that would be a childhood like none other. They flash mega-watt fake smiles, toss their over colored hair, wave with hands that have fake nails, in hopes of being crowned. Because that is exactly what happens in everyday life. Hell, that isn't even how it is in Snow White.
I will admit, I have watched "Toddlers and Tiaras", only because about a month ago, one of them went viral when she called the world Honey Boo Boo Child and that a dollar made her "hollar" I thought to myself, who would do that to their daughter? When they showed her extreme couponing Jabba the Hutt stand in mother I understood. This "woman" began explaining the pageant circuit and what it was teaching her daughter...then, on national television, she burped. Thank God pageants are teaching her something because this bad permed horror story certainly wasn't.
I thought I had seen enough of this to last me a lifetime until self described beauty queen Alaina began speaking of her special juice that was going to help her win and that she could feel it "kickin' in" Now we all know the only thing that someone uses the phrase kicking in to describe are drugs of some kind and when I saw this beast turn up a bottle of Mountain Dew that had been mixed with Red Bull I almost called the department of Human Services myself. At this point though she was so annoying I was praying that someone would give her a package of pop-rocks on the thought that her insides would literally explode right in front of our very eyes because the only thing she had learned was how to be a money hungry, fame seeking, caffeine guzzling bitch...maybe she is a Kartrashian after all.
I understand that kids need hobbies. I get that. Hobby-less kids end up sitting in dark room building bombs while their unsuspecting parents never once look in on them. I also get that while there are "stage parents" in every sport or activity that a child will be involved in. We have all seen dads coaching from sidelines and mothers simulating a cheer routine in the hopes that their kids would get to experience the thrill of victory instead of the agony of defeat. That's okay. What isn't okay is clipping in fake hair, applying makeup with a trowel, and giving botox to a child that hardly knows their ABC's...
Unless of course your name is Kris and your children are Kourtney, Kim and Khloe...
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Georgia on My Mind
There are things in our lives that shape us into being the person that we are today. I have been fortunate that I have gotten to travel the world. I have seen how others live and I have a strong understanding of just how lucky I am. However there is one thing that has shaped me more then just about anything else. It's with me everywhere I go and I can always turn to it whenever I need answers from on high.
I am talking about "Designing Women".
Set in the South this show about the Sugarbaker sisters and their business associates looks, from the outside, like a bit of mindless drivel. However, upon deeper inspection this bit of television genius can give us a peek into the people that, I think, we all should be. Okay, so it isn't as deep as Schindler's List, I'll give you that, but here are some examples on how a show, known to be situation comedy actually handled things that we all have been through in our lives. Now I know that life aint perfect and that, in times of peril we all shouldn't flock to the fictional Sugarbaker sisters for our answers (That what "That Facts of Life" is for) but who among us hasn't been in one of these situations.
I remember being young and loving Designing Women and, at the same time, being terribly overweight. One evening I saw the title "They Shoot Fat Women, Don't They?" and I thought to myself, certainly my favorite show isn't going to skewer the overweight. Well, I was shocked as it did just the opposite. Gorgeous and shallow Suzanne found herself on the receiving end of the ridicule that she had dosed out all of her life. When she was just going to pack it all in and "get thin and then get even" she met a child whose entire family had been killed by starvation. This led her to give a speech that I dare anyone to tell me is right up there with Gettysburg Address about her weight gain and how it had affected her shedding a different light on the fat joke.
Reminding us that we are all guilty of secrets that we don't want others to know and that we shouldn't pass judgement was one of Julia's specialties. In an episode where a long time client passes judgement on a friend dying of AIDS Julia straightens her back, pulls her shoulders tight, holds her head up high and exclaims, as she is forcibly escorting this narrow minded bitch out of her business that "If God were handing out sexually transmitted diseases as a punishment for sinning, YOU'D be at the free clinic all the time!" Hysterical? Yes! Applause worthy? Of course. Insightful? You better believe it. Who among us hasn't aired someone's dirty laundry knowing that we had loads of it right in our own washrooms that could make the world think differently about us if it ever got out.
And who couldn't watch this show and not laugh out loud at the sibling rivalry between the ever proper Julia and the many times married Suzanne. Having a younger brother that is the polar opposite of me made this television show hit even closer to home then most did. I remember thinking, about Chris, that there was no way we were related. He with his outgoing personality and devil may care attitude was a stark contrast to my pulled a little to tight, kiss my ass mentality and it drove me crazy....that is until I realized what really happened the night the lights went out in Georgia. After hearing a beauty pageant queen make fun of her sister for something that Julia herself has made fun of all of her life, she, well she pretty much goes crazy and reminds this woman of just how important her sister is to her. I mean lets face it, do we really think that twelve thousand people lept to their feet for sixteen and one half minutes of uniterupted thunderous ovation as flames illuminated Suzannes tear stained face. Hell no we don't. People, Suzanne isn't real, and there as no fire baton! However, this episode, one of the benchmarks of television history if you ask me shows what every single sibling is guilty of. I can trash talk my brother all I want because he is mine. You, on the other hand....
Now in all honesty do I want to sit Sutton down in front of eight years of Designing Women and have him learn his values from that. Hell no. The Sugarbaker house is actually in Arkansas, Charleene is really from New York, and the last two years of the show sucked. They own a design firm but never work and every vacation they take (from the mountains to the beach to Graceland) is an experiment in terror. They never agree on anything and find themselves in the most outrageous situations that they somehow manage to neatly wrap up in 23 minutes which is nothing like real life at all.
They are however a perfect example of how life's little lessons are everywhere. These four women tackled everything from racism to sexism. Heart attacks to menopause. American History to sex education. Marriage, divorce, death and domestic violence. And they did it all when television was meant to be an escape from our world, not a peek into it.
I rarely watch television anymore. I would like to say it is because I don't believe in mindlessly wasting my time looking at a device mounted to my wall, but the truth of the matter is I don't have time to waste. When I do watch it I see that scripted reality shows and perfectly planned spontaneous fights have taken over.
So I will happily watch Designing Women re-runs over the Real Housewives of Atlanta any day. I learn so much more from them anyway.
I am talking about "Designing Women".
Set in the South this show about the Sugarbaker sisters and their business associates looks, from the outside, like a bit of mindless drivel. However, upon deeper inspection this bit of television genius can give us a peek into the people that, I think, we all should be. Okay, so it isn't as deep as Schindler's List, I'll give you that, but here are some examples on how a show, known to be situation comedy actually handled things that we all have been through in our lives. Now I know that life aint perfect and that, in times of peril we all shouldn't flock to the fictional Sugarbaker sisters for our answers (That what "That Facts of Life" is for) but who among us hasn't been in one of these situations.
I remember being young and loving Designing Women and, at the same time, being terribly overweight. One evening I saw the title "They Shoot Fat Women, Don't They?" and I thought to myself, certainly my favorite show isn't going to skewer the overweight. Well, I was shocked as it did just the opposite. Gorgeous and shallow Suzanne found herself on the receiving end of the ridicule that she had dosed out all of her life. When she was just going to pack it all in and "get thin and then get even" she met a child whose entire family had been killed by starvation. This led her to give a speech that I dare anyone to tell me is right up there with Gettysburg Address about her weight gain and how it had affected her shedding a different light on the fat joke.
Reminding us that we are all guilty of secrets that we don't want others to know and that we shouldn't pass judgement was one of Julia's specialties. In an episode where a long time client passes judgement on a friend dying of AIDS Julia straightens her back, pulls her shoulders tight, holds her head up high and exclaims, as she is forcibly escorting this narrow minded bitch out of her business that "If God were handing out sexually transmitted diseases as a punishment for sinning, YOU'D be at the free clinic all the time!" Hysterical? Yes! Applause worthy? Of course. Insightful? You better believe it. Who among us hasn't aired someone's dirty laundry knowing that we had loads of it right in our own washrooms that could make the world think differently about us if it ever got out.
And who couldn't watch this show and not laugh out loud at the sibling rivalry between the ever proper Julia and the many times married Suzanne. Having a younger brother that is the polar opposite of me made this television show hit even closer to home then most did. I remember thinking, about Chris, that there was no way we were related. He with his outgoing personality and devil may care attitude was a stark contrast to my pulled a little to tight, kiss my ass mentality and it drove me crazy....that is until I realized what really happened the night the lights went out in Georgia. After hearing a beauty pageant queen make fun of her sister for something that Julia herself has made fun of all of her life, she, well she pretty much goes crazy and reminds this woman of just how important her sister is to her. I mean lets face it, do we really think that twelve thousand people lept to their feet for sixteen and one half minutes of uniterupted thunderous ovation as flames illuminated Suzannes tear stained face. Hell no we don't. People, Suzanne isn't real, and there as no fire baton! However, this episode, one of the benchmarks of television history if you ask me shows what every single sibling is guilty of. I can trash talk my brother all I want because he is mine. You, on the other hand....
Now in all honesty do I want to sit Sutton down in front of eight years of Designing Women and have him learn his values from that. Hell no. The Sugarbaker house is actually in Arkansas, Charleene is really from New York, and the last two years of the show sucked. They own a design firm but never work and every vacation they take (from the mountains to the beach to Graceland) is an experiment in terror. They never agree on anything and find themselves in the most outrageous situations that they somehow manage to neatly wrap up in 23 minutes which is nothing like real life at all.
They are however a perfect example of how life's little lessons are everywhere. These four women tackled everything from racism to sexism. Heart attacks to menopause. American History to sex education. Marriage, divorce, death and domestic violence. And they did it all when television was meant to be an escape from our world, not a peek into it.
I rarely watch television anymore. I would like to say it is because I don't believe in mindlessly wasting my time looking at a device mounted to my wall, but the truth of the matter is I don't have time to waste. When I do watch it I see that scripted reality shows and perfectly planned spontaneous fights have taken over.
So I will happily watch Designing Women re-runs over the Real Housewives of Atlanta any day. I learn so much more from them anyway.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Under Pressure....
There is something in my life that is progressively causing me more and more pressure in my life. It isn't unexpected bills, my job or my personal life.
I am talking about migraines.
I started getting migraines after my 37th birthday. There were these horrible headaches that caused me to take a pause in my life and I couldn't explain them. So I went to WebMD, which should be illegal mind you because of all the self diagnosing you can do to yourself on it. That very day I had diagnosed myself with sickle cell anemia, dutch elm disease and a brain tumor. But not just any brain tumor. My head aches were so bad that I knew that my brain was completely encapsulated and that there would be risky surgeries involved. Someone would post it on facebook, it would get noticed by Matt Lauer and my plight would become a national news story. Susan Lucci would play my mother in the Lifetime Made for TV Movie and I would write a book afterwards (provided I wasn't called to Glory) and then make the talk show junket spouting off the ways that my life had changed for the better. Hell, I probably would even become vegan.
I went to the neurologist who did one round of blood work and popped out with this migraine diagnosis.
Migraines?!? Are you freaking kidding me. I thought to myself as I stared at this doctor across the exam room. I didn't know who this yahoo was but at that moment I was sure he was full of sh*t. I scanned the room quickly looking for a degree that was written in dull crayon but couldn't find one, anywhere.
Now, I am one of those people who trusts doctors. Three of my dearest friends are doctors, good ones, and when they tell me something I believe them, but there was something about this one that really made me want to knock his smug look into the middle of next week. Knowing that was not a good idea, I decided to ask a few questions.
"I don't understand how I have migraines," I said. "I've never had a migraine before."
"Obviously you have," he answered. Now, if you know me well you know that he might as well have told me to F-off because directing sarcasm AT me does not leave one in my good graces. However, I figured I needed the knowledge he had so I continued.
"What causes them?" I asked.
"I have no way of telling you what causes them. They are triggered by different things in different people."
At that moment, as the pressure started to build and the pain crept around my left eye I realized that blatant arrogance was one of the triggers of mine. When he told me that I would have to have one triggered to find out what triggered it I decided it was time to leave. First, I had never heard the word "trigger" used so much and second, I thought it was in mine, and Mobile Infirmary Securities best interest if I just evacuated as quickly as I could.
Now, I am lucky in the regard that mine are not bad, but when I do get one I need a cold, dark, completely silent room. Don't ask how I am, if I need anything, or even tell me that the house is on fire and I need to leave because there is a good chance you are going to be hit by the first thing I can grab and throw at you. Consider yourself warned.
I have found my "triggers" are pretty common. Strong perfume or cologne, some kinds of shampoo and laundry detergent can trigger mine. A fluorescent light bulb that is about to go out can trigger one and the smell of the ENTIRE Kirklands store in Bel Air Mall can pretty much hospitalize me.
Oh, and talking to stupid people doesn't help them either.
So, I happily avoid all of the above. After all, life is far to short to be spent in a dark, cold, silent room....
I am talking about migraines.
I started getting migraines after my 37th birthday. There were these horrible headaches that caused me to take a pause in my life and I couldn't explain them. So I went to WebMD, which should be illegal mind you because of all the self diagnosing you can do to yourself on it. That very day I had diagnosed myself with sickle cell anemia, dutch elm disease and a brain tumor. But not just any brain tumor. My head aches were so bad that I knew that my brain was completely encapsulated and that there would be risky surgeries involved. Someone would post it on facebook, it would get noticed by Matt Lauer and my plight would become a national news story. Susan Lucci would play my mother in the Lifetime Made for TV Movie and I would write a book afterwards (provided I wasn't called to Glory) and then make the talk show junket spouting off the ways that my life had changed for the better. Hell, I probably would even become vegan.
I went to the neurologist who did one round of blood work and popped out with this migraine diagnosis.
Migraines?!? Are you freaking kidding me. I thought to myself as I stared at this doctor across the exam room. I didn't know who this yahoo was but at that moment I was sure he was full of sh*t. I scanned the room quickly looking for a degree that was written in dull crayon but couldn't find one, anywhere.
Now, I am one of those people who trusts doctors. Three of my dearest friends are doctors, good ones, and when they tell me something I believe them, but there was something about this one that really made me want to knock his smug look into the middle of next week. Knowing that was not a good idea, I decided to ask a few questions.
"I don't understand how I have migraines," I said. "I've never had a migraine before."
"Obviously you have," he answered. Now, if you know me well you know that he might as well have told me to F-off because directing sarcasm AT me does not leave one in my good graces. However, I figured I needed the knowledge he had so I continued.
"What causes them?" I asked.
"I have no way of telling you what causes them. They are triggered by different things in different people."
At that moment, as the pressure started to build and the pain crept around my left eye I realized that blatant arrogance was one of the triggers of mine. When he told me that I would have to have one triggered to find out what triggered it I decided it was time to leave. First, I had never heard the word "trigger" used so much and second, I thought it was in mine, and Mobile Infirmary Securities best interest if I just evacuated as quickly as I could.
Now, I am lucky in the regard that mine are not bad, but when I do get one I need a cold, dark, completely silent room. Don't ask how I am, if I need anything, or even tell me that the house is on fire and I need to leave because there is a good chance you are going to be hit by the first thing I can grab and throw at you. Consider yourself warned.
I have found my "triggers" are pretty common. Strong perfume or cologne, some kinds of shampoo and laundry detergent can trigger mine. A fluorescent light bulb that is about to go out can trigger one and the smell of the ENTIRE Kirklands store in Bel Air Mall can pretty much hospitalize me.
Oh, and talking to stupid people doesn't help them either.
So, I happily avoid all of the above. After all, life is far to short to be spent in a dark, cold, silent room....
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Magic Mirror on the Wall...
A strange phenomenon is starting to happen to me. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I get a glimpse of someone, be it ever so brief, and that someone isn't me. Who could this stunning creature looking back at me be, you may ask. Jake Gyllenhal? Channing Tatum? George Clooney? All very , very good guesses, but no, none of them are right.
I am talking about my mother.
Now this shouldn't come as a surprise to me. I've heard all my life "you look just like your mother" or "you can certainly tell she's your mother." I never understood this one because, if you know my mother, it wouldn't matter what she looked like because she has ALWAYS acted like my mother. What I wasn't prepared for was, at the age of forty to start acting like her.
Our uncanny looks aside I have to say I have always been my mothers child. We have the same hair trigger temper, disgust with stupidity, speaking voices that could be lowered just an octave or two, and, allegedly, the same ability to silence a room with one withering look. That is not what I am talking about. Let me give you a glimpse into how I am slowly turning from a self described "International party Boy" (I know, I like the ring of it too) into a middle aged grandparent.
1. Pickling: I never knew what this meant and until recently I wasn't truly one hundred percent on board with the fact that pickles were actually cucumbers. In all actuality I didn't care. My pickles came from a jar with the word "Vlassic" clearly printed on the label. Why the hell would I learn how to do this because I have never seen the shelves of the Winn Dixie out of them. Well, not only have I learned to pickle I am enjoying it. Who knew? My next venture is going to be green beans. I mean they aren't going to pickle themselves for my brunch time Bloody Mary.
2. Conservative instead of sporty: recently you could catch me at any number of red lights in the tri-state area with the top of my Miata down, CD player wailing the latest whatever, newest pair of sunglasses on headed for destinations unknown. Hell one time Jeff and I went to the Bahamas with just a few days notice and my oldest friend Lisa and myself once spent new years in three states with just our pajamas! The world was my oyster! Well, that oyster has apparently been shucked cause if it don't happen in midtown I don't give a damn about it and you can almost be certain that if I RSVP'd yes to it that it was simply to not hurt the invitation senders feelings. The Miata is gone, replaced with a very nondescript little economy car that barely gets me noticed...okay so its a Mercedes, it's black with a sunroof and I love it, but it has four doors so there...
3. Style and Comfort: One thing I learned from my mother is "there is no reason to ever look bad in public" This is one of the reasons that I am currently wrestling with the desire to maybe try on a pair of Crocs because I know she just wouldn't have it, or would she. While I will readily admit that my mother ALWAYS looks amazing, and I am not just saying that, he heels have gotten a little shorter, her Mardi Gras gowns are put away for good, and she is just as comfortable in a pair of cotton slacks as she is a silk suit. Hell, maybe I'll try those Crocs on.....nah, probably not.
4. Bedtime: 10:30 on a school nite no questions asked. This means that my ambien is happily ingested by 10:00.
There are other ways I am changing, much like she changed when Sutton came into our world. It doesn't bother me if Chloee is in my bedroom rolling a $500.00 crystal vase on the carpet or playing with my Rolex in the tub because it is making her happy. In the big scheme of things, it really is no big deal
So I guess I am okay with this new reflection that I am seeing.
After all, it was modeled after the best :)
I am talking about my mother.
Now this shouldn't come as a surprise to me. I've heard all my life "you look just like your mother" or "you can certainly tell she's your mother." I never understood this one because, if you know my mother, it wouldn't matter what she looked like because she has ALWAYS acted like my mother. What I wasn't prepared for was, at the age of forty to start acting like her.
Our uncanny looks aside I have to say I have always been my mothers child. We have the same hair trigger temper, disgust with stupidity, speaking voices that could be lowered just an octave or two, and, allegedly, the same ability to silence a room with one withering look. That is not what I am talking about. Let me give you a glimpse into how I am slowly turning from a self described "International party Boy" (I know, I like the ring of it too) into a middle aged grandparent.
1. Pickling: I never knew what this meant and until recently I wasn't truly one hundred percent on board with the fact that pickles were actually cucumbers. In all actuality I didn't care. My pickles came from a jar with the word "Vlassic" clearly printed on the label. Why the hell would I learn how to do this because I have never seen the shelves of the Winn Dixie out of them. Well, not only have I learned to pickle I am enjoying it. Who knew? My next venture is going to be green beans. I mean they aren't going to pickle themselves for my brunch time Bloody Mary.
2. Conservative instead of sporty: recently you could catch me at any number of red lights in the tri-state area with the top of my Miata down, CD player wailing the latest whatever, newest pair of sunglasses on headed for destinations unknown. Hell one time Jeff and I went to the Bahamas with just a few days notice and my oldest friend Lisa and myself once spent new years in three states with just our pajamas! The world was my oyster! Well, that oyster has apparently been shucked cause if it don't happen in midtown I don't give a damn about it and you can almost be certain that if I RSVP'd yes to it that it was simply to not hurt the invitation senders feelings. The Miata is gone, replaced with a very nondescript little economy car that barely gets me noticed...okay so its a Mercedes, it's black with a sunroof and I love it, but it has four doors so there...
3. Style and Comfort: One thing I learned from my mother is "there is no reason to ever look bad in public" This is one of the reasons that I am currently wrestling with the desire to maybe try on a pair of Crocs because I know she just wouldn't have it, or would she. While I will readily admit that my mother ALWAYS looks amazing, and I am not just saying that, he heels have gotten a little shorter, her Mardi Gras gowns are put away for good, and she is just as comfortable in a pair of cotton slacks as she is a silk suit. Hell, maybe I'll try those Crocs on.....nah, probably not.
4. Bedtime: 10:30 on a school nite no questions asked. This means that my ambien is happily ingested by 10:00.
There are other ways I am changing, much like she changed when Sutton came into our world. It doesn't bother me if Chloee is in my bedroom rolling a $500.00 crystal vase on the carpet or playing with my Rolex in the tub because it is making her happy. In the big scheme of things, it really is no big deal
So I guess I am okay with this new reflection that I am seeing.
After all, it was modeled after the best :)
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Terror in the aisles
There is a terror creeping around the United States and it's being delivered to just about everyone's home everyday. I'm not talking about the political propaganda that is on our television that is only going to get worse before it gets better. I'm not talking about the fact that the United States government may be able to force someone to have insurance. I am not talking about the mere existence of Michelle Bachmann or Sarah Palin.
I am talking about Extreme Couponers...
I posted a while back about this people and how they literally terrify me. They are right below the moms on "Toddlers and Tiaras" (and you know who you are Honey Boo Boo Child) Now, before coupon clippers get up in arms and start telling me how much money I can save by using coupons there are some things that you need to know. I don't care if you use coupons. I am not going to. I don't think I am better then anyone but I am not going to take the time out of my day to clip, file, and store away coupons and then turn around and plan my meals around what is in my coupon binder and then haul said binder to my local shopping establishment and then have to search for said food. It's just not in me and I don't have the patience to do it.
So I am not talking about your daily coupon user...I was watching The Learning Channel and this show "Extreme Couponing" came on and I thought to myself there is no way in hell this is real. Of course I tuned in. I was so not expecting what I saw. People were dancing across my television screen happily showing rooms that they kept coupon circulars in that were waiting to be clipped and meticulously placed in large, segmented binders before hopping in minivans and heading for the store to make the coupon magic happen. And boy do they...I have never seen something like this...these people buy all of these things in the hopes that their entire purchase will be for nothing...and I am talking about entire bins and displays of sh*t. If their total is over 27 cents they go into a complete fit, demand to see a manager and keep the people behind them who are only trying to buy enough groceries to make a Ceasar salad furious...
Then they bring this stash home, usually to a specially built bunker or room that is designated strictly for their couponing rewards. No, call me crazy, but does one need over 5000 rubes of toothpaste? How many teeth are you expecting to brush, Sugar. Eventually we get old and get replacement teeth that sit right in a nice glass on the back of your toilet. Do you need 700 cases of assorted size diapers when you are childless and grandchild-less? What about the shelves and shelves of Fancy Feast that you have accumulated but still haven't found the time to buy a cat?
Here is the deal...I don't mind saving money. I'm actually all for it to be honest. I do have an issue with this organized hoarding of sorts. You can't tell me that buying your local Food Circus out of cat food because it is going to be (gasp) FREE by the time your coupon is run is normal IF YOU DON'T OWN A CAT. If you don't have a baby you don't need any diapers. No pool means you don't need pool chemicals and lets face it, there is no need in having 600 bottles of laundry detergent. (Especially scented laundry detergent...remember if the Zombie apocalypse comes, they have a INCREDIBLE sense of smell).
In many ways I feel for these people...waiting for their latest circulars, clipping them, binding them, shopping with them, having whole rooms added to their homes for a stash of goods that can't be used in a hundred lifetimes. Think of everything else they could be doing with this time and energy and patience. I'm not saying don't try and conserve, but next time you think "I can get 20 servings for cat food for 1 penny a serving and then I have a buy one get one free coupon for them" that you may be better served coloring with your child, visiting your parents, or buying those items and donating them an animal shelter. Splashing your face across TLC only makes you a target for people who have time on their lunch hour to blog about you! :)
I am talking about Extreme Couponers...
I posted a while back about this people and how they literally terrify me. They are right below the moms on "Toddlers and Tiaras" (and you know who you are Honey Boo Boo Child) Now, before coupon clippers get up in arms and start telling me how much money I can save by using coupons there are some things that you need to know. I don't care if you use coupons. I am not going to. I don't think I am better then anyone but I am not going to take the time out of my day to clip, file, and store away coupons and then turn around and plan my meals around what is in my coupon binder and then haul said binder to my local shopping establishment and then have to search for said food. It's just not in me and I don't have the patience to do it.
So I am not talking about your daily coupon user...I was watching The Learning Channel and this show "Extreme Couponing" came on and I thought to myself there is no way in hell this is real. Of course I tuned in. I was so not expecting what I saw. People were dancing across my television screen happily showing rooms that they kept coupon circulars in that were waiting to be clipped and meticulously placed in large, segmented binders before hopping in minivans and heading for the store to make the coupon magic happen. And boy do they...I have never seen something like this...these people buy all of these things in the hopes that their entire purchase will be for nothing...and I am talking about entire bins and displays of sh*t. If their total is over 27 cents they go into a complete fit, demand to see a manager and keep the people behind them who are only trying to buy enough groceries to make a Ceasar salad furious...
Then they bring this stash home, usually to a specially built bunker or room that is designated strictly for their couponing rewards. No, call me crazy, but does one need over 5000 rubes of toothpaste? How many teeth are you expecting to brush, Sugar. Eventually we get old and get replacement teeth that sit right in a nice glass on the back of your toilet. Do you need 700 cases of assorted size diapers when you are childless and grandchild-less? What about the shelves and shelves of Fancy Feast that you have accumulated but still haven't found the time to buy a cat?
Here is the deal...I don't mind saving money. I'm actually all for it to be honest. I do have an issue with this organized hoarding of sorts. You can't tell me that buying your local Food Circus out of cat food because it is going to be (gasp) FREE by the time your coupon is run is normal IF YOU DON'T OWN A CAT. If you don't have a baby you don't need any diapers. No pool means you don't need pool chemicals and lets face it, there is no need in having 600 bottles of laundry detergent. (Especially scented laundry detergent...remember if the Zombie apocalypse comes, they have a INCREDIBLE sense of smell).
In many ways I feel for these people...waiting for their latest circulars, clipping them, binding them, shopping with them, having whole rooms added to their homes for a stash of goods that can't be used in a hundred lifetimes. Think of everything else they could be doing with this time and energy and patience. I'm not saying don't try and conserve, but next time you think "I can get 20 servings for cat food for 1 penny a serving and then I have a buy one get one free coupon for them" that you may be better served coloring with your child, visiting your parents, or buying those items and donating them an animal shelter. Splashing your face across TLC only makes you a target for people who have time on their lunch hour to blog about you! :)
Monday, March 26, 2012
Paging Dr. Evans, Dr. Marlena Evans...
I have always taken for granted that I wouldn't actually live to see something that was a predominate part of my youth go into what can only be described as extinction. After all, I am only forty and in the big scheme of things I have not been around that long. However, I find that there is something that I grew up with, something that helped me be the person I am today that the youth of tomorrow will not have.
I am of course talking about the soap opera.
You can't tell me that people would rather Keep Up With the Kartrashians then watch a good old fashioned soap opera that is far more believable then their lives are. When I was younger my days were filled. I started them in Salem, quickly jumped to Bay City and finished the day out in Santa Barbara. Looking back, no wonder I was fat. Once my ass was planted on that sofa to the familiar beginning of Days Of Our Lives I wasn't about to get up until the final credits of Santa Barbara rolled. I don't care what was happening. They are now being replaced with all these round table type talk shows that I have a hard time following. I am listening to "The View",or am I viewing "The Talk"? Why do I care that Regis has left Kelly and why in the name of everything holy is that douche Dr. Phil still on the air?
With a soap opera you don't get all the run around that you get with other broadcast television and I like that. I the land of soaps you can count that if someone is pregnant her husband is not the father. If a couple that loves each other more then the very air they breathe get engaged, a marriage is not going to happen. If someone dies they are going to come back about a year later after extensive contract re-negotiation. An explosion has been known to change someones hair color, eye color, height, weight, and even nationality. Oh and finally, you can rest assured that whatever the plot line calls for Dr. Marlena Evans will end up kidnapped or with amnesia, or both.
Long suffering Marlena has seen the death of her twin sister (who had kidnapped her), countless kidnappings, amnesia more times then anyone can count, possession from the devil, she was surrogate when she was in a coma, She has been in multiple plane crashes, fires, floods, hurricanes and other natural disasters. She has been buried alive, endured the kidnapping of her children and even once thought she was a serial killer, all the while remaining the top psychiatrist on staff of Salem University Hospital....she is also one of my heroes.
See, I think a good old fashioned soap opera (not to be confused with a bona fide drama) gives you the break from reality that you often need to make it through life. Work sucks? Hey, your not pregnant with your half alien brother in laws child that you conceived on a space ship in Heaven. They are little glimpses into the lives that NO ONE (not even those Kartrashians) could even dream of having, and that is what makes them wonderful. So give me Dr. Evans over Dr. Oz any day. She may not be real, but sometimes the break from reality she prescribes is just what the doctor ordered.
I am of course talking about the soap opera.
You can't tell me that people would rather Keep Up With the Kartrashians then watch a good old fashioned soap opera that is far more believable then their lives are. When I was younger my days were filled. I started them in Salem, quickly jumped to Bay City and finished the day out in Santa Barbara. Looking back, no wonder I was fat. Once my ass was planted on that sofa to the familiar beginning of Days Of Our Lives I wasn't about to get up until the final credits of Santa Barbara rolled. I don't care what was happening. They are now being replaced with all these round table type talk shows that I have a hard time following. I am listening to "The View",or am I viewing "The Talk"? Why do I care that Regis has left Kelly and why in the name of everything holy is that douche Dr. Phil still on the air?
With a soap opera you don't get all the run around that you get with other broadcast television and I like that. I the land of soaps you can count that if someone is pregnant her husband is not the father. If a couple that loves each other more then the very air they breathe get engaged, a marriage is not going to happen. If someone dies they are going to come back about a year later after extensive contract re-negotiation. An explosion has been known to change someones hair color, eye color, height, weight, and even nationality. Oh and finally, you can rest assured that whatever the plot line calls for Dr. Marlena Evans will end up kidnapped or with amnesia, or both.
Long suffering Marlena has seen the death of her twin sister (who had kidnapped her), countless kidnappings, amnesia more times then anyone can count, possession from the devil, she was surrogate when she was in a coma, She has been in multiple plane crashes, fires, floods, hurricanes and other natural disasters. She has been buried alive, endured the kidnapping of her children and even once thought she was a serial killer, all the while remaining the top psychiatrist on staff of Salem University Hospital....she is also one of my heroes.
See, I think a good old fashioned soap opera (not to be confused with a bona fide drama) gives you the break from reality that you often need to make it through life. Work sucks? Hey, your not pregnant with your half alien brother in laws child that you conceived on a space ship in Heaven. They are little glimpses into the lives that NO ONE (not even those Kartrashians) could even dream of having, and that is what makes them wonderful. So give me Dr. Evans over Dr. Oz any day. She may not be real, but sometimes the break from reality she prescribes is just what the doctor ordered.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Be on the lookout
I am missing something very near to me. I am missing something that I find it difficult to face the day without. I have prayed exhaustively to find it. I have searched everywhere hoping to find it...
Happiness, you may ask. No. Love, you may be wondering. No. Inner peace that comes from knowing that you have somehow positively changed the world? No, that doesn't concern me a bit.
It's my sunglasses.
See, ever since I have been about eighteen years old I have had a fetish with sunglasses. I love them, I spend money (lots of money) for them. I cherish them and in many ways love them as a mother dog loves her newborn pups. Then I lose them.
I got my first pair of "expensive" sunglasses right after I started college. It was a pair of black RayBan Wayfarers that I promptly proceeded to leave on top of a drink cooler in the University of South Alabama bookstore about three months later. This began my downward spiral into the addiction of buying and losing expensive sunglasses.
Honestly, if I knew how much money I had spent on sunglasses over the last twenty two years I would probably throw up my left lung. What makes it even worse is that I never have ANY idea where they may be. I just wake up one day and go to put them on a realize, SH*T, I did it again. When Jeff asks me where I last remember having them my answer is simple...ON MY FACE., where do you think I last remember having them? Geez...
So here's the thing that drives me crazy about this. I am generally a put together person and I do take care of my things especially my expensive things. I have had my Rolex for twenty five years and for twenty five years I have known exactly where it is. My ring has been safely wrapped around my finger for over fifteen years and I have never walked off and left Sutton or Chloee sitting on top of a vending machine. However, countless RayBans, Gucci, Armani, Maui Jim and Costa del Mar sunglasses later I found myself happily handing my credit card to some unknown cashier for a new pair of black Wayfarers...I got in the car, slipped them on, and I could hear my eyes silently tell me "oh thank you..."
It has since rained everyday since I bought them. Somewhere the Sunglasses Gods are laughing at me...again.
Happiness, you may ask. No. Love, you may be wondering. No. Inner peace that comes from knowing that you have somehow positively changed the world? No, that doesn't concern me a bit.
It's my sunglasses.
See, ever since I have been about eighteen years old I have had a fetish with sunglasses. I love them, I spend money (lots of money) for them. I cherish them and in many ways love them as a mother dog loves her newborn pups. Then I lose them.
I got my first pair of "expensive" sunglasses right after I started college. It was a pair of black RayBan Wayfarers that I promptly proceeded to leave on top of a drink cooler in the University of South Alabama bookstore about three months later. This began my downward spiral into the addiction of buying and losing expensive sunglasses.
Honestly, if I knew how much money I had spent on sunglasses over the last twenty two years I would probably throw up my left lung. What makes it even worse is that I never have ANY idea where they may be. I just wake up one day and go to put them on a realize, SH*T, I did it again. When Jeff asks me where I last remember having them my answer is simple...ON MY FACE., where do you think I last remember having them? Geez...
So here's the thing that drives me crazy about this. I am generally a put together person and I do take care of my things especially my expensive things. I have had my Rolex for twenty five years and for twenty five years I have known exactly where it is. My ring has been safely wrapped around my finger for over fifteen years and I have never walked off and left Sutton or Chloee sitting on top of a vending machine. However, countless RayBans, Gucci, Armani, Maui Jim and Costa del Mar sunglasses later I found myself happily handing my credit card to some unknown cashier for a new pair of black Wayfarers...I got in the car, slipped them on, and I could hear my eyes silently tell me "oh thank you..."
It has since rained everyday since I bought them. Somewhere the Sunglasses Gods are laughing at me...again.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Real World??
When I was young I had three main goals and I am totally serious about this:
1. I wanted to be involved in a multi-story arc on either Days of Our Lives or As the World Turns. In these stories I would play the long lost twins of either Marlena Evans or Lily Snyder. The fact that Lily is actually only two years older then me was inconsequential.
2. I wanted to be the author of an "Oprah Book Club Selection"
3. I wanted to be the breakout star of "The Real World - Mobile"
Obviously none of these ever happened.
This brings me to what I feel is my biggest pet peeve on television today. Is it violence? No. Gratuitous sex? Nope, never had a problem with that.
It is the Kardashians.
If you know me well you know that while I detest this Armenian family that simply wont go away, I apparently am on of the people who is 'keeping up" with them, which I guess is a good thing because they are not going away anytime soon, or ever. They are everywhere. They are endorsing credit cards, clothing lines, nail polish (Kim's is "Follow Me on Glitter"), tennis shoes, diet pills and even writing books. Books?!? This alone shocks me because I didn't think Harper and Row accepted manuscripts written in crayon but apparently they do. Hell, I wish my biggest problem in life was the world thinking that my behind had implants in them.
I guess it just goes to show the differences in how people are raised. My mom encouraged me to get good grades. Their mom encouraged them to get professional athlete husbands. I made the honor role. Kim made a sex tape. They call their mom "Kris". If I ever called my mom "Pat" to her face I would actively be looking for a new set of teeth...
Lets get real about this real world that we are watching on television. You shouldn't have a "momager" you should have a mother. You shouldn't televise your fairytale knowing its going to end 73 days later. You don't flaunt a twenty karat diamond ring by running you perfectly fake nails through your expertly styled weave while you family acts shocked and surprised around a dinner setting that would make Martha Stewart jealous...(I mean, is there anyone who thinks that Kim didn't buy that ring herself...or better yet is there anyone who thinks that ring is real)
So, I keep up with the Kardtrashians. Their infection on society of their "real" world reminds me how happy I am to live in mine!!!
1. I wanted to be involved in a multi-story arc on either Days of Our Lives or As the World Turns. In these stories I would play the long lost twins of either Marlena Evans or Lily Snyder. The fact that Lily is actually only two years older then me was inconsequential.
2. I wanted to be the author of an "Oprah Book Club Selection"
3. I wanted to be the breakout star of "The Real World - Mobile"
Obviously none of these ever happened.
This brings me to what I feel is my biggest pet peeve on television today. Is it violence? No. Gratuitous sex? Nope, never had a problem with that.
It is the Kardashians.
If you know me well you know that while I detest this Armenian family that simply wont go away, I apparently am on of the people who is 'keeping up" with them, which I guess is a good thing because they are not going away anytime soon, or ever. They are everywhere. They are endorsing credit cards, clothing lines, nail polish (Kim's is "Follow Me on Glitter"), tennis shoes, diet pills and even writing books. Books?!? This alone shocks me because I didn't think Harper and Row accepted manuscripts written in crayon but apparently they do. Hell, I wish my biggest problem in life was the world thinking that my behind had implants in them.
I guess it just goes to show the differences in how people are raised. My mom encouraged me to get good grades. Their mom encouraged them to get professional athlete husbands. I made the honor role. Kim made a sex tape. They call their mom "Kris". If I ever called my mom "Pat" to her face I would actively be looking for a new set of teeth...
Lets get real about this real world that we are watching on television. You shouldn't have a "momager" you should have a mother. You shouldn't televise your fairytale knowing its going to end 73 days later. You don't flaunt a twenty karat diamond ring by running you perfectly fake nails through your expertly styled weave while you family acts shocked and surprised around a dinner setting that would make Martha Stewart jealous...(I mean, is there anyone who thinks that Kim didn't buy that ring herself...or better yet is there anyone who thinks that ring is real)
So, I keep up with the Kardtrashians. Their infection on society of their "real" world reminds me how happy I am to live in mine!!!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Welcome to me!
"Made a wrong turn once or twice, dug my way out, blood and fire. Bad decisions, that's alright. Welcome to my silly life..."
I while ago I posted this to facebook with the tag that even though I had never met Pink in public that she must have done a Google search on me to come up with this line. By the time I was 40 I had been held at gun point in my own home, sued by a crazy one legged aunt that now resdies comfortably in whatever world happens to be playing in her mind, oh, and burned the entire second story off of my condominium. Since no one was hurt I made the comment that I was simply downsizing.
So here are some things that you need to know about me. I have a great job that I pay attention to but in my private life, if it doesn't happen on the pages of People Magazine, there is a good chance I am not going to know about it. I didn't know who Amanda Knox was til she came home and was relieved to see after exhaustive research that she was not mentioned in the "Style" or "Chatter" section of said magazine. I don't talk about politics or religion mostly because I understand niether of them and my head is already cluttered with useless things like ABBA song lyrics as it is. I detest Angelina Jolie, am baffled the rise to fame of the Olsen twins, and, for some odd reason, now find myself keeping tabs on the movements of one Bobbi Kristina Houston Brown. I am allergic to caffeine, I think that if evil had a taste it would be "english peas" and try as I might, just can't be a fan of Katy Perry. I feel that facebook status' should not be a constant and continual update on your honor roll, cheerleading, boyscouting, gymnatics doing child (unless I have personally met and approved of them) and I certainly don't want to see one where you constantly lament on how the world has treated you so unkindly...did you miss where I burned my house down? Chin up, life aint fair. If I ask you how you are doing I want your response to be "fine, and you", and if you give me anything but that response I have probably completely ignored it.
Oh...and I like vodka, a lot..a whole lot..and not that cheap swill that still has tiny bits of potato floating around in it...
So that is me. Follow at your own risk and don't be prepared to learn anything!
I while ago I posted this to facebook with the tag that even though I had never met Pink in public that she must have done a Google search on me to come up with this line. By the time I was 40 I had been held at gun point in my own home, sued by a crazy one legged aunt that now resdies comfortably in whatever world happens to be playing in her mind, oh, and burned the entire second story off of my condominium. Since no one was hurt I made the comment that I was simply downsizing.
So here are some things that you need to know about me. I have a great job that I pay attention to but in my private life, if it doesn't happen on the pages of People Magazine, there is a good chance I am not going to know about it. I didn't know who Amanda Knox was til she came home and was relieved to see after exhaustive research that she was not mentioned in the "Style" or "Chatter" section of said magazine. I don't talk about politics or religion mostly because I understand niether of them and my head is already cluttered with useless things like ABBA song lyrics as it is. I detest Angelina Jolie, am baffled the rise to fame of the Olsen twins, and, for some odd reason, now find myself keeping tabs on the movements of one Bobbi Kristina Houston Brown. I am allergic to caffeine, I think that if evil had a taste it would be "english peas" and try as I might, just can't be a fan of Katy Perry. I feel that facebook status' should not be a constant and continual update on your honor roll, cheerleading, boyscouting, gymnatics doing child (unless I have personally met and approved of them) and I certainly don't want to see one where you constantly lament on how the world has treated you so unkindly...did you miss where I burned my house down? Chin up, life aint fair. If I ask you how you are doing I want your response to be "fine, and you", and if you give me anything but that response I have probably completely ignored it.
Oh...and I like vodka, a lot..a whole lot..and not that cheap swill that still has tiny bits of potato floating around in it...
So that is me. Follow at your own risk and don't be prepared to learn anything!
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