MERCI BEAUCOUP

I want to thank everyone I know, for not going to Target tonight. Had you gone, I would have been MORTIFIED. You see, I went to Target, but I looked so damn crappy, it was embarrassing. I SHOULD have at least put on a bra, which I didn't. I also didn't put on any jewelry nor comb my hair nor check my makeup. I basically looked exactly like I did when I was hanging out at home, doing housework and returning phone calls. Yet the urge for heading over to Target hit me. Oh well.

As it happened, I had a return to make at the store. I've been trying to make this return for weeks now, but was just never in the mood. Apparently tonight... the mood struck. Thus, out I went. I zipped over to the mall, made my return and earned a nifty $37.00 in no time flat. I probably should have stopped there.

But, I didn't. Instead, I decided to go on a shopping spree. I know what you're thinking... Huh? in TARGE`?? Uh... I guess so. All I know is, by the time you could say t-shirt and shoe department, I had a basketful of all KINDS of things. I strolled every aisle I fancied and without giving a single hoot, I threw things in my cart, left and right. If I liked it, boom. I bought it. Man, was THAT ever not the likes of an educated consumer. But regardless, I so have to say... I chose great things! All to the tune of $200, I might add. So much for my $37 credit.

And, as if that wasn't enough... when I was at the cashier, it suddenly dawned upon me that I really had not yet eaten a meal today. I was hungry! Boom. I paid my bill and IMMEDIATELY headed over to the hot dog counter. I bought a Kosher hot dog and a child's size diet soda and let me tell you... I loved every bite I ate and every sip I swallowed! Am so telling you... it turned out to be a WONderful evening of entertainment! What made it all the better however, was the fact I didn't run into ONE person I knew. Thank God. Thus, merci for not being at the mall. You have NO idea how much I appreciate it.

NEXT!

I could almost be one of those clerks behind the bakery counter, asking for the next person in line. Really? Why? Well, because now, I'M EXPERIENCED. Get this... the other day was Claudia's surprise birthday party and for the celebration luncheon, I had to pick up and bring two cakes. One, a chocolate, the other, a yellow. As it happened however, I was so busy during the day, that I couldn't get to store until later in the evening. Like, maybe 9:30 or something.

In which case, I was sort of screwed since at that hour, apparently no one is any longer working behind the bakery counter. Translated: there was no one who could write HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAUDIA on the cake, for me. For that matter, there was also no one who could write HAPPY BIRTHDAY LINDA, since my girlfriend, Linda, has a birthday tomorrow and I was bringing a cake for her, also. Anyway, I was kinda in a bind. I did NOT want to have to return the next day when all the bakery ladies were indeed there to do the job... so basically, I had to do the next best thing.

I had to BECOME a bakery lady. First, I went to the freezer to select which two cakes I wanted. No easy, feat, by the way. I'm VERY particular. Regardless.... once I selected the cakes I then went behind the counter, looking for those icing bags they have in a zillion colors, and bingo. In no time flat, I spotted them. Then, I grabbed the colors I wanted, with the baby icing (as opposed to the large floral) decorating tips used for writing. Next thing you know, I'M DECORATING THE CAKE. Well, trying to, anyway. You know how easy it is for the folks behind the counter to whip out a snappy Happy Birthday script lickety split?? Well, guess what? IT AIN'T SO EASY.

I'm so telling you... you should have SEEN my work. Oh wait; you can. It's right up there in the picture. I swear... as you can see, my writing bordered on ridiculous. And trust me... I was doing my best! It looked pretty much the way a kindergartner would have done it, actually. And, now that I think of it, if the kindergartner had an OUNCE of real artistic talent, then boom. Theirs would have been WAY better than mine. In the meantime, I did what I had to do, but I must say, it was just SO damn lame. Which I was sorry to see, since after all, I had to in fact, BRING the cakes to the party the next day! Talk about feeling like an idiot. Okay...so that's the bad news.

The good news, however, is: The two cakes TASTED perfectly delicious. Which of course, is the entire purpose of this endeavor. Crappy as they may have LOOKED... at least they were a pleasure to digest. Granted, my particular standards for quality birthday cakes are pretty low, but I do believe they wound up tasting quite decent and/or acceptable. Believe me... the pounds will pile on just as easily, regardless of WHO did the writing. So... mission accomplished. Another year of Claudia's explicit birthday command... a yellow cake with traditional white buttercream icing!

TUESDAYS WITH GINA

All through my 20s, I had a standing manicure and pedicure appointment with Gina... every Tuesday for my nails; every 6th Tuesday for my nails AND my feet. I even had the same set up during my very early 30s and then guess what. I had a baby. Boom. Goodbye Gina. Nice knowing you. With that very first incision into my belly for the cesarean delivery, any and all luxuries went right out the door. Kinda like, okay you now have a baby; make a choice: return to work and be not too poor... OR... stay at home with my precious little baby and be WAY poor. I chose the latter.

Which is why, one of the first luxuries I gave up, was my weekly manicure appointment. That was over 25 years ago. Way back then, it actually worked out pretty okay, too. I could put the baby to sleep, sit on my family room sofa, grab all my manicure equipment, sip a diet coke, light up a cigarette, watch television AND give myself a manicure, all at the very same time. By the end of NYPD Blues, boom. I had stunning nails. And you know what?? It STILL works out pretty okay. I STILL do my own nails! Sort of just like now... were I not typing, I could be sitting in the family room, nail paraphernalia all spread out, AND watching Dancing With the Stars.

Anyway, the reason I'm telling you all this is because today I went out to lunch after visiting my Dad. I had a delicious tuna melt and when it was time to pay, I got up and walked over to the cashier. The lady in front of me had already paid, and there I was, counting out my dollar bills and bingo. This sweet looking lady turned to me and said: YOU HAVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL NAILS! I MEAN IT... THEY LOOK JUST SO BEAUTIFUL! Wow. Now THAT was a surprising moment. I do? They are? Really?? Gee... thanks!

As it happened, I had done my nails the night before. I do them each week, and normally, I like doing them on either a Monday or Tuesday night. For some reason, that seems to best fit my schedule. Whatever. In the meantime, I am usually faced with a decision each time I give myself a manicure: WHAT COLOR?? This week, however, I chose: NO COLOR. Instead, I went the French Manicure look and frankly, it often looks pretty damn decent by the time I'm finished. Apparently, this lady in front of me thought so, too. Too bad she couldn't see my toes... she'd probably like them too. Bottom line: I'm definitely an accomplished DO IT YOURSELFer.

Another thing I do myself is, color my own hair. Again, it was a matter of setting luxury priorities; thus ever since my 40s, when the first grey hair appeared, I've had to become my own beautician. Granted, I'm not saying it's a proFESSional looking job, but its a less expensive one, regardless. In fact, the only time in recent history I can remember going to a salon for almost anything, was back in January and May of this year... to add these spiffy blond highlights I've been sporting for the past 9 months. Highlighting is NOT something I can do myself. See? Even I know my limits.

On the other hand, if ever you call your stylist or your manicurist, and they tell you: SORRY, SHE'S BOOKED, have no fear. Boom! I'M AVAILABLE. My appointment book is wide open and I'll be HAPPY to help out. Best of all, I'll do it not only charge free, but tip free as well.

DON'T CALL

As I was doing my yoga session today, I was thinking to myself: No need for anyone to bother calling me since I probably won't answer the phone. Nice thought, huh? But I couldn't help it, since I swear to God... I'm up to my ears in the crapola of watching my father deteriorate. It's just so damn sad and today, I felt as if I'm getting closer to the edge.

Hence, I am in a really piss poor mood. Even my housekeeper could see I was not myself. She felt badly because I am seldom depressed, unhappy or blah. Yet today, I sort of am. Claudia and I started our day by speaking to the Hospice nurse who comes to check on Dad each day. Jesus... talk about a disheartening conversation. Anyway, we then spent most of the day over at Dad's house, going through all his financial papers from 2006, so we can send them out to his accountant in Florida. Our work plan basically started out with Claudia very tense, and having no one else to whom she could vent, she sort of took it out on me. Of course, I put my foot down immediately and had to set her straight, so to speak, and then bingo... we were on our way to getting our task at hand completed.

I feel really badly for Claudia. She too, is up to her eyeballs with nerved responsibilities and heart felt emotion over this whole ordeal. Apparently however, I am able to accept what is, a little easier than she, at the moment. We sort of trade off on this bit, by the way. One day I feel like a mess. The next day she feels like a mess. It makes me chuckle right now, thinking of how often we walk by a mirror and say to each other... MAN, DO I LOOK LIKE S^#T. You can pretty much count on the fact that these are not our favorite days.

Regardless, I think we sort of got things in order. We decided whatever papers the accountant doesn't get, he ain't never going to get. There's just so much effort we can put forth right now. Although, don't get me wrong. We do an amazingly thorough job, but today, neither of us had that extra oomph to go that extra mile. We are dealing with major decisions every damn day and are managing Dad's medical needs as well as his legal and financial needs. I swear... Claudia and I are this far from being experienced enough to tackle the running of a high powered major corporation by now. Although, for Dad we consider this a labor of love. For a fancy corporation, we'd have to charge big bucks. Or at the very least, damn good perks.

Anyway, the bottom line of this particular rant of mine is simple: Don't bother calling me. I can't say I'm too interested in speaking to you. I feel like hell and I look like hell. And for all I know, if I speak to you, I might have to GIVE you hell. Oh... and by the way... don't bother leaving a message. I'm not calling you back. Well, not tonight, anyway.

EASY COME, EASY GO

I'm really pissed. Yesterday I wrote an entire entry all about this FABULOUS invention that grocery stores now seem to have whereby you can enter the store and boom! The first display area you see when you walk in, is a HUGE case of freshly made doughnuts! Like who WOULDN'T want to run in and grab some needed household items at the drop of a hat? Even UNneeded items, for that matter. I then proceeded to write all about the NEXT best invention, whereby let's say, you're craving birthday cake, but it's nobody's birthday. So boom, for SURE you can't buy an entire cake. BUT, get this... they now sell single individual slices of ANY kind of cake you could possibly want, birthday or not, which in my book, definitely makes for an even GREATer invention. Forget the miracles of modern medicine. It's this concept of BAKERY FOR ONE that REALLY impresses me.

In the meantime, I wrote and wrote all about these two incredible grocery store offerings. Upon completing the entry, however, something really screwy must have happened for right there, right before my very eyeballs, MAGIC. The entire blog completely disappeared in front of me, right smack into thin air! Gone. Kaput. Never to be seen again. Goodbye forever. Uh... do I even NEED to tell you how ticked off I was?? Trust me... I was too damn aggravated to even TRY to recreate the story. So basically, instead, I just swore like a sailor, logged off and moseyed into the kitchen to see what I could possibly find that would kinda ease my displeasure. I don't remember what I selected, but whatever it was, I'm sure it did the trick. For the time being, anyway.

Or, maybe forever. Because right now, I don't actually give a hoot anymore. I'll just let that particular blog entry stay out there, somewhere in cyberspace, and basically, not give it another moment's thought. That's the good news. The bad news of course is that I NOW have to come up with a whole NEW idea for writing an entry and frankly, I have to be honest... my mind has gone surprisingly BLANK. I can't think of a THING to write about!

Which may not be such a bad thing, after all. I'm sort of in a crappy mood. So it's probably best anyway, that I don't write at all. But, when I do get in a better mood, maybe I'll tell you about HBO'S new series entitled TELL ME YOU LOVE ME. It's SO up my alley. I somehow fell into this program and let me tell you.. it's great. Well, only if you like nudity, explicit sex AND a pretty good story line, that is. If you're prudish and private, don't watch it. Lucky for me, I'm neither. Therefore, if I AM going to write again soon, it surely won't be on Sunday nights at nine o'clock. At THAT time, I'll be busy staring at some pretty decent bodies getting all hot and bothered, doing the deed, and acting out a pretty good script, too. Thank you HBO. I'm apparently your target audience.

YIN VS. YANG

Ever since I moved here, I've always addressed my questions regarding the weather to Barbara. And, for the first year or so, she'd give me pretty good answers. There came a point, however, when I guess either her meteorological skills became weakened OR she merely got fed up with my zillions of questions; thus she finally laid down the law: UH.. GUESS WHAT... I'M NOT A REAL WEATHERMAN. Oops. Really?? She isn't?? Who knew?

Boom. In a flash, my go-to person regarding what the weather will be or why the temps were what they were, or for that matter, how the weather would affect my choice of clothing, etc. etc. was gone. I was on my own. EEKS.

Now that I look back on it all, it sort of makes perfect sense. First of all, just because I consider Barbara the SOURCE OF ALL INFO, doesn't mean she REALLY knows everything. I sort of always thought she did, but in reality, I guess there's just so many post graduate degrees any one person can hold. Secondly, although Barbara and I live in the same city, she lives WAY high up on the mountain, hence, I always tell her SHE'S in Canada, thereby rending HER weather reports far more colder/different than where I live. Lastly... and basically, this is the true yin yang of it all... Barbara sleeps, during the hard winter, with her bedroom door slightly ajar, wearing no bedtime socks AT ALL. That alone should have plainly told me we're on two different playing fields. I need a warm 76 degrees to sleep comfortably. Barbara needs a much colder 62 degrees.

Regardless... sleeping withOUT socks?? Whoa. That's almost unheard of! For me, my feet and/or socks are practically all I ever NEED, to determine the comings and goings of seasons. Case in point: During the summer, I never need to hit the hay wearing night time socks. Nor do I ever need to wear slippers. Particularly after I step out of the shower. But... autumn?? Winter?? I'd NEVER consider going to sleep without my crappy looking socks! Nor would I ever consider taking a shower without putting my slippers RIGHT SMACK NEXT TO THE SHOWER DOOR, waiting for me to step into them immediately after I finish. Why, my poor little tootsies would FREEZE if I didn't. Not only that, I know INSTINCTIVELY that the cooler weather has arrived when, without even thinking, I need to turn on the bathroom's little ceiling heating system just as I'm turning on the shower spigot.

I think about all this now, because the other day Barbara asked me a very interesting question. Based on the fact that I was bitching how all of August was way too hot, the other day I was bitching because I was now way too chilly. At which point, Barbara wanted to know exactly what IS my temperature of choice? If I'm not complaining about one temp, I'm apparently complaining about another. So... as I drove home, I gave concentrated thought to her question and tonight, I do believe, after all this time, I have finally determined my real, live, actual desired temperature. NEWS ALERT: To keep me absolutely comfortable, able to wear all my favorite clothing, while keeping a wide smile on my face... the daytime temperature needs to be... tada... on or about: 74.5 degrees! The evening temp, on the other hand, is allowed to drop to... on or about: 68.5. So THERE. Thanks to Barbara, I now have the answer to her burning question. Which is: approximately a cool 70ish. Whew. Now I have yet ANOTHER solution to what makes me tick. Man, I love it, when all my personal mysteries are solved.

"I CRY A LOT"

So said President Bush, when being interviewed for a new biography written by Robert Draper. I was brushing my teeth at the moment this quote aired on television and as soon as I heard this revelation, my immediate first reaction was: I'll G-damn BET you cry. And well you SHOULD, you lousy S.O.B! I know... nice way for a fellow American to react a statesman. Let alone to THE statesman.

However, the contempt I have for our President is...well... unprecedented. And further, I basically don't feel so hotsy totsy about any American who voted him into office, either. SHAME ON ALL OF YOU. Did you not READ his resume?? By the way, for those who didn't, here's a link to the most recent: George W. Bush's Resume Have you no CLUE how he's destroyed EVERY possible matter that's ever come before him?? Guess what... you voters F-ING DESERVE Georgie for your leader!

On the other hand, I don't. Which is why I'm so pissed at everyone who elected him, as well as at GW, himself. As for his crying... GOOD! May he never have a dry eye ever again. Because, I'll damn well bet LOTS of the families whose sons and daughters have been maimed and/or died in Iraq, haven't had a dry eye in YEARS. In fact... I'll even help Bush out a bit... I'll be HAPPY to supply him with a life time of Kleenex, just so long he promises to KEEP crying. Sobbing, actually. He's killed THOUSANDS of innocent folks via his STUPIDITY, ARROGANCE and EGOCENTRIC CRAPOLA.

Granted... I've had a lousy day. Thus, I am just READY to lunge at the first thing that gets in my way. The funny thing, however, is that regardless of my day... I am ready to pounce on our President ANY day. For someone who is so damn faith based, I'm telling you... this guy is like borderline Satan when it comes to making wise decisions on behalf of the United States. So long Harriet Myers. Nice knowing you Donald Rumsfeld. You're outta here Carl Rove. Bye-bye Tony Snow. (oh... time out...Tony, I liked!) Nevertheless... what a friggin A-hole, Bush is. May he rot in hell.

If you REALLY want to appreciate my stance on Bush, why not treat yourself to a wonderful hour by watching HBO: Bill Maher Special: "The Decider" . Bill minces few words letting you know his take on George, and frankly, I only wished I could have been in the audience. Talk about being right on target! Oh... and by the way...

While you're there on HBO, check out the last 20 minutes of Justin Timberlake's live musical special. (I know... I'm crazy) But... I happened to fall into this show while doing some surfing and while I know absolutely nothing about either Justin or his music, this last song, a sort of fake finale before the second REAL finale, is simply incredible! I have to admit... I loved it! Really. The fans could easily be crying from joy, thanks to this apparently talented kid. Way unlike those who are crying from the well founded hate and disgust, of our own George Bush.

THE MESSAGE

Wow... now HERE was an interesting surprise. I was sitting with my girlfriend earlier today, having a lovely time, gabbing about all sorts of wonderful nonsense. The next thing we know... her cell phone rings and she apparently had just gotten a text message. Yippee... she read the message aloud, I listened, and in no time flat, we knew RIGHT away, the message was not meant for her. It was sent by the husband of a friend of hers and basically, here's what it said:

I'LL TAKE CARE OF THE WINE... COULD USE SOME TLC. HAVE HAD A ROTTEN F-ING DAY.

Our eyes lit up imMEDiately!! HUH?? THE WINE?? WHAT WINE?? NEED TLC?? WHY TELL ME?? As for the rotten day, like WHO CARES?? Oh... I'll tell you who cares, all right. The person for whom the message was REALLY meant!! As in: GIRLFRIEND. As in: GIRLFRIEND ON THE SIDE!! Whoaaaaa... this definitely gave a whole new spin to our nonchalant conversation!!

Can you believe it?? The guy is undercover with his ladyfriend, and unbeknownst to him, both my girlfriend and I are now ONTO him!! This was by far the most interesting inside scoop to come my way in a LONGGG time. I love when this happens. It's fodder for gossip, like, let's say... for... EVER! Amazing, is all I can say.

Okay... so what to do next?? CALL the guy back? THANK him for the blackmailing goods, should we ever need it? TEXT message him back? WHAT??

As it happened, my girlfriend decided to send a reply via texting. We went over and over what the content should be... I of course wanted to include some little caveat whereby we not only tell him of his mistake, but ALSO imply that we KNOW it wasn't meant for her. As in: You better watch your sweet little ass, my cheating little friend. But... she was far more discreet than I. She merely replied that he apparently sent the message to the wrong person, but basically, no big deal.

HOW LONG YOU THINK IT TOOK BEFORE SHE GOT YET ANOTHER TEXT MESSAGE??? Think: minutes!! Yessiree... he got his alert notice alright, and as soon as he could figure out the best way to extricate himself from his faux pas, his next message was... OH, YEAH... THANKS FOR TELLING ME. I MEANT TO SEND IT TO MY FRIEND, XYZ. Yeah, right. As if men tell other men they could use some TLC.

So, basically... there's a moral to the story, somewhere in here. In fact, probably several. The one I like focusing on best, however, is: Never Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth. Meaning, you just never know when, how, why you might be able to turn a perfectly normal day into one INCREDIBLY outrageous one. This guy has NO clue how much I appreciate his mistake. His mistaken message will give me YEARS of great chit chat with everyone I've ever met. Thank you oh so much, Mr. So and So. Talk about one's man's trash being another man's treasure.

CONTINUING EDUCATION

Spending time with Laura is like furthering your college education. Not like the college I attended in late 60s, but more like the college of 2007. I swear to God... it's unbelievable what you can learn from Laura's Continuing Ed Classes.

First case in point: When Laura arrived here this morning, I remembered that I needed an updated photo for this blog, thus asked her if she would quickly snap a picture of me, so I could upload it. NO SOONER HAD I ASKED, than she immediately replied: DO YOU HAVE A LADDER??? Uh... excuse me?? I was asking for a snapshot, not a curtain installation, for heaven sakes. It turns out however, Laura knew exactly about what she was speaking, since she told me she would NEVER take a picture unless someone was shooting her from up above. As in: the the photograph-er has be "feet" above, so as to pose photograph-ee WAY more becomingly. That tidbit alone, is reason enough to enroll.

Next case in point: While Laura and I were driving around the city today, we got onto the subject of cars. First of all, she enlightened me all about her current leasing program vs. my purchasing program. She's got a brand new Audi, I think, while I'm still driving my ten year old car, with 50+ thousand miles on it. True, my car is in excellent condition and has never, ever given me a moment's bit of trouble. But regardless... get this... NOW I learn that unlike my car, the new cars of today don't HAVE cassette tape slots anymore! CD slots, only. Wow. Where have I BEEN?? Which made me immediately think: THEN, WHY EVEN BUY A NEW CAR?? The one I already have, has BOTH features. Not only that, apparently cars no longer come with lighters! WHAT?? When did THAT happen? Do they still come with ashtrays?? Laura rattled off a zillion other changes in cars nowadays, thus rendering the car I'm driving WAY out of date... practically vintage, actually. EEEKS. Consequently, I decided that if I'm gallivanting around the city in what turns out to be a vintage car, then I'll NEVER sell it. Why, with the features I've still got, I'm thinking it just may INcrease in value!

The last case in point: My education about Hookahs. Ever hear of one? It seems it's one of those deals that resembles a bong, from back in the 60's. THAT I know all about. Except Hookahs have lots of inhalation lines and are used by everyone in the Middle East. THAT I know nothing about. Anyway, I've lived here for 5 years... and never have I ever seen this place downtown called the HOOKAH HOUSE. Laura gets here and boom... she spots it almost immediately. Not only that, but she asked that we make a stop there tonight for our evening activity. Ready for this? WE WENT. We checked it out and I'm so telling you... its a hell of an experience. Unfortunately, they do NOT fill the Hookah with the terrific stuff we used when filling our bongs (I asked) but, it's a lot of fun, nonetheless. What they do instead, is... just as in the Middle East... is fill the Hookah with all KINDS of flavored spices/leaves which you do inhale, but has no nicotine, etc. It's sort of like going to a bar, here in the U.S. You sit around with friends, share the Hookah, hang loose and basically spend a few hours kicking back and vegging out. I guess it's the Starbucks of Egypt.

Anyway, in just one mere day, I furthered my education way beyond my greatest expectations. In fact, I HIGHLY recommend you too, take Continuing Ed classes. And, if you're REALLY smart, sign up for the class in which Laura is your instructor. You'll get way more than you bargained for, believe you me. Not only will you learn about body washes and prime sushi ordering, but best of all, you're practically assured an easy A+.