YEARS' END

Boy am I ever glad to be kissing 2009 goodbye. I have to kinda say: this past year just wasn't my all time favorite, by any stretch of the imagination. Of course the collapse of the economy didn't help. Nor my disappointment in the government enhancing the insurance, financial and drug companies INSTEAD OF US CITIZENS. Nor did my finding out I have some crappy ass eye disease but hey... wtf. That's old news by now. Actually, I was pretty much on a happy roll right up until May, I'd say. Uh... no wonder. It's my birthday month. Regardless... ever since then... I'm thinking that maybe the remaining months of the year were basically on the sucky side. It seems as if I had been dealing with one up and then one down right smack after another; and no matter how hard I tried, I just never got to that Big Bang europhoric place, whereby I'm constantly on Cloud Nine. You know... the place that keeps making me tap dance all over the house so much of the time. Which, I gotta admit is where I love to be, most of all. So... let me see here... the highlights of the year. Let's see if there were any. Okay.... so in no particular order: 1. Yippee. My kid was here for several visits back home. That's always a good thing. 2. Had my face lasered to remove old lady spots. CERTAINLY a good thing. 3. Saw Michael Jackson's THIS IS IT which was by far, up in the Top Five. 4. Found out I was club worthy, thus was accepted to my local country club. DEFINITELY A GOOD THING. 5. Had 5 very welcomed guests here, during the week of Thanksgiving. Was even better than I had hoped. 6. Reconnected with 3 of my college suite mates, which has been fabulous, if I say so myself. Don't even ASK how many emails are flying back and forth between us! For months, already! 7. A friend told me there is something called WOMEN'S PORN, which I've gotta think has great potential. Thank GOD FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL came out, since that was about the only film I can think of that showed male frontal nudity. And...by the way... thank you so VERY much, Jason Segel, for FINALLY granting all of us ladies an exceptional shot. 8. Only one person went onto my HATE FOREVER list... so that's a plus, right? 9. And oh yeah... pretty much all my clothes from January still fit me in December. Now THERE'S an accomplishment! 10. AND FINALLY... I've found a place about an hour away that serves REAL, AUTHENTIC, honest to goodness hot pastrami sandwiches on rye! Oh man.... was I ever in my glory!! So boom. Maybe I wasn't on Cloud Nine ALL year, but still, all in all... I DID have a few things to smile about, after all. Yippee. On the other hand, I'm sticking with my original thought: am thrilled 2009 is almost kaput. Now... all I have to worry about is whether or not the entire world is going to cave in 2012. What??? Too early to worry?? Never. HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

GIVING THANKS

So I'm pretty much near the end of my recent mission: to finish the entire left overs of the Pumpkin Pie I served for Thanksgiving. A HUGE pie, too, I might add. I've done a pretty good job at it, I must admit.

No wonder. It's delicious!! Given that in addition to the pumpkin pie, there was also a stunning, fancy schmancy lemon cake and a delicious pecan pie, there was plenty of leftover desserts. YIPPEE! Definitely up my alley. I froze the other two, but couldn't bring myself to freeze the pumpkin guy since it IS one of my all time favorites.

Actually, the entire meal was damn good. Better yet was the company I had. For five days, Linda's family was here. WHAT A TREAT! Elliot, Lauren and Shawn decided to take their first family vacation since Linda's death last year and I was THE CHOSEN DESTINATION! Who could ask for more?? Plus, my son... the delight of my life... was here, so all in all, I had the best company ever. In fact, it was my son and Lauren who actually made the pecan pie and for a first time effort?? THEY PASSED WITH FLYING COLORS. Oh yeah... the two of them also made a gingerbread house from a kit I had bought. You can see their finished product in the picture up above. Don't ask.

I of course always make the traditional turkey on Thanksgiving. I just never eat it. I MUCH prefer all the trimmings. I NEVER serve stuffing, veggie casseroles, cranberries, sweet potatoes, etc. unless it's for a holiday, so when Thanksgiving comes around, I'm ready to dig in. Besides... where the hell is the TASTE in turkey, anyway? I don't even eat sliced turkey breast sandwiches. Give me hot pastrami ANY day. Further... turkey never seems to fit into my High Carb diet, that I love so much. Pastrami?? A zillion calories. Turkey?? Practically zero.

Oh yeah... get this. After dinner we all watched an apropos movie later that night. Sitting down?? FOOD, INC. Can you believe it??? Just what one should watch after eating fowl. You should SEE what what these huge companies do to supply our stores! Oh my God... don't EVER eat anything but food from animals raised in free range, grass fed environments. Uh... luckily my turkey was in fact, free range, no antibiotics, etc. Man... this movie was something else, alright.

Actually, so was my holiday. Even withOUT getting up at 4:00 a.m. to do the Black Friday bit. Soooo not my style. I would never consider getting up at that hour. Unless of course, it's to make one of my many nightly runs to the bathroom.

HARRY POTTER

Get a load of this picture. It' me with my new HP look. Have a wand handy?? So far, this new look has been received with rave reviews. Too bad I can't see so hotsi-totsi out of them, however. They're like the lenses from hell, here. It always takes about three visits to the optometrist to get my prescription exactly right. This time it only took two. The lenses on the other hand, have so far, taken three visits and guess what? They're still not hunkee doree. I've been testing them all week to see if they'll work. I'm going with: CHECK PRESCRIPTION ONCE MORE. My final answer. I can't figure out if the distance part of the lens is correct or not. I'm almost thinking that maybe my former pair were better off. To become more exact, when in the car with others, I've been doing a sort of test. We drive along, we spot a street sign and then each of us tells at what point they can actually read the name on the street sign. EVERYone can read it way before I can! Like I practically need to be on TOP of the street sign before I can see what the hell the name of the street is! So not good for travel in a faraway city. Basically, I'm totally screwed and I know it. Am not thrilled about it, either. I can't remember whether or not I've mentioned in older entries, that I've got some crappy ass eye disease developing. Swollen retinas and retinal edema is the layman's description. The medical description is beyond pronunciation, trust me. It makes me sick to even think about it. Anyway, for the past week, my eyes have been watering and I'm sorta scared. I have no clue what's going on... thus ANOTHER trip now to the optometrist is now in order. I should almost set up a cot while I'm there. Shit... I kinda like the use of my eyeballs and sure will be upset when they're no longer serving me. Regardless, I LOVED reading the first four editions of the Harry Potter series way back when. Although, believe me... I never for a minute thought I'd be sporting Harry Potter lookalike glasses one day. This is something an old lady should even be doing??? Anyway, I never went beyond reading the first four volumes, given I pretty much got the entire picture by then. Harry's a wizard. Everyone else is a Muggle. His parents were killed by Lord Voldemont. The aunt and uncle were mean idiots. Harry goes to a school for wizards. Becomes the savior of the school. Etc. Etc. Bingo. End of story. I've even caught a couple of the films on HBO by mere default, given nothing else worth watching was on. Yeah... I know. A major loser for a woman my age, to be viewing this deal.

For now, however... I'm kinda liking my Harry Potter glasses. And, as long as no one uses the curse: CONJUNCTIVITIS!!! on me, I'll be pretty happy. Which by the way... for all you Muggles out there... is the command Harry gives should he want to damage an opponent's eyesight. Lucky for him, I'm already damaged.

That was IT, alright!!!

Man... I can't wait until tomorrow night. I've invited 10 of my friends to be my guests to see THIS IS IT and trust me... it will be FABULOUS. How do I know?? Because get this... I'VE ALREADY SEEN IT!! I swear... I walked out of the theater last weekend, and was so damn pumped that I just KNEW I had to treat my friends to the same experience. I loved it!! In fact, just now I got email from my college roommate and an earlier email from my high school sweetheart, telling me THEY'RE ON THEIR WAY. Uh... not together, needless to say. I LOVE when folks take my advice about checking out something great. Besides... would I EVER lead anybody astray? Absolutely not! Okay... first of all... you do not have to be a Michael Jackson fan to be sucked right into this documentary. Although believe me... it doesn't hurt. You DO have be wild for music, dance, behind the scenes production and/or creation, astounding rehearsals and sheer wonderment at just HOW does one create the most phenomenal rock concert featuring THE most iconic musical genius in the history of the world. Want to know how it's done?? GO SEE THIS MOVIE! You'll learn. By the way... there was no way this man looked like he was ready to die 10 days later! But that's another story altogether. I was sitting in the theater, not only astounded at the creative juices that were flowing, but naturally, as soon as I heard the first three notes of a song... boom! I knew which one it was, and I was humming right smack along! Oh yeah... I was also munching right along on my mandatory popcorn. I wouldn't even THINK of sitting through a movie without popcorn and a Diet Coke. Which reminds me... the drink and popcorn alone, cost more than the price of my ticket. What the hell is with THAT?? Regardless... Want to spend an amazing couple of hours?? GO! WATCH! ENJOY! You'll thank me later. Or, at least you SHOULD, anyway. It's just too bad that my brother isn't here for me to be able to make him go. He might balk at first, but believe me... by the time he'd walk out, he'd be as entertained as I was. At least he SHOULD, anyway. I love and miss you, Bob. Everyday of my life.

VEGETARIANS

So, I’m sort of beginning to see why people are heavy into being a vegetarian. DO YOU SEE these peppers?? Can you BELIEVE it? I myself was stunned there was such a vegetable, but believe you me… if I ever find them at my local grocer, I am SO buying these. Kinda gives a whole new meaning to: eat up, everyone!!

I can’t even remember where I first saw these, but I can tell you this… one look and I was hooked. These interesting little items are aptly named PENIS and/or PETER PEPPERS. EEEKS. According to some farmers, they can even grow to 18 inches long. Oh Lordy… don’t even go there. And… some consider these too hot to actually eat. Now THERE'S a surprise. Supposedly they are akin to the Tabasco and Jalapeño peppers, but have about 10 times the heat.

Want to learn more about these hotties? (consider this an educational entry, if you’d like) Simply go to: http://www.chickenup.com/Peter_Peppers/body_peter_peppers.htm You’ll get all the info you’ll possibly need. You can even order the seeds for your own veggie garden should you be so inclined.

While others are either cooking with these peppers, or perhaps making a salad let’s say, I think that instead… I’ll use for them for favors at my next dinner party! I mean it… I can’t WAIT for everyone to be seated at their place setting and go wild with laughter. Naturally, I’ll then have to go into my own little rendition of: PETER PIPER PICKED A PECK OF PICKLED PEPPERS… Need I say more?

SONNY DAYS

Much to my enjoyment, I spent a wonderful weekend with my son last weekend. He was home for three days. It’s taken me five days to recuperate but, that’s a whole different story altogether.

I’ve gotta tell ya… this kid makes me laugh like no tomorrow. I’m basically getting for free, for what I believe Lorne Michaels would pay millions. Which is too bad, given I would LOVE to grab some of those millions.

Case in point: as were driving along on Saturday, all of a sudden my son breaks into this type of muffled lisp kinda speech that just knocked me out. I don’t even remember hearing it before. It’s a crazy type of speech pattern, that is just shy of sounding like a person who may be verbally challenged. Of course, I’m laughing right off the bat. So, after he’s talking to me in this way for a bit, it hits me… OMG… you have SO got to become a teacher, using this crazy ass linguistic type of expertise, to go teach a class in: ENGLISH AS A SECOND LANGUAGE. I chose: teaching English to French students. We laughed HYSTERICALLY at the concept.

Next thing I know, my son automatically slips into his professor sort of mode and begins to actually teach a pretend class. Including how the students will repeat what it is, he is saying. IT WAS HILARIOUS. The two of us were laughing up a storm. Plus… his content, in addition to the speech impediment, was not to be believed. He created the PERFECT syllabus at a moments notice. Anyway, after he regales me for a while with this outstanding comical routine, I next suggest to him… OMG… YOU ALSO need to now become a Disc Jockey!!

It was crazy. He IMMEDIATELY begins to do a Casey Kasem type of deal, doing the Top 40 Countdown or something. SOOOO funny. Of course, the speech is understandable to the listener… but barely. I was simply rolling on the floor. We then began to think of all the scenarios in which PERFECT command of the auditory language was mandatory and boom! Those are the scenes he needs to do for Lorne.

It’s too bad that I’m the only one who gets to be thrilled by my kid’s performances. Well, other than my Mother and brother, who’s favorite character of his was RAMON… the interior decorator. Or was he a hair stylist?? I can’t even remember. On the other hand… be SURE to never fall in love with a character my son creates… it will be the last time he’ll ever do it. Damnit. OH… DO THE ONE WHERE… bingo. You’ll plead and plead to no avail.

Which is a shame. For, my son is by far the funniest guy I know. He needs to become a Vince Vaughan or something. THEN… not only will he become happy and famous, but then I will become RICH and famous. Now THAT’S hilarious.

NO NET, NO LIFE

I swear to God… I made a discovery yesterday. You know the saying…a day without orange juice is like a day without sunshine? Well get this… I’m in a deal whereby a day without the INTERNET is like a day without uh… life!!

I mean it. I can’t beLIEVE how hooked into the internet my life has become. Hasn’t EVERYones? Case in point: I came home from the eye specialist yesterday to Google my new eye disease. Don’t ask. It’s ridiculous. Something called… sitting down??Retinal Telangiectanasia. It’s not good, trust me.

Regardless, I came home and hopped right smack onto the net. After reading email however, I decided: wait… let me take a break first, before I read about my life flashing right smack in front of me. Literally. Anyway, I go to make some ice box wafer logs and when I get BACK to the computer, I see I no longer have access to the internet. Gone. Kaput. No connection whatsoever. HUH?? What the hell happened in 20 minutes?? Without my even being there?? God only knows.

So… I do, what else? I call the BellSouth people and tell them GET ME BACK ON! IMMEDIATELY, TOO! Yeah, I know. I begin to freak out a bit. Then I have like a major melt down. AM I NUTS?? Well, it seems… apparently.

Anyway, the bottom line is: the DSL guy couldn’t come out until this morning. What did I dooo all afternoon and evening without internet access? WANT TO SHOOT MYSELF, that’s what!

It was so weird. Thank GOD the President delivered his speech last night. That took up a couple of hours. And, thank God I had the last few pages of the book I’m reading, to finish. Oh yeah… thank God I also had plenty of crap in the house on which to snack.

By the time I showered, did some chores, etc. it was time for bed. But trust me… there was a disconnect inside me like you wouldn’t believe. No web. No email. No Facebook. No blog. Not to mention no news, stocks, celebrity crap, etc. NOTHING. Talk about addicted, huh?

Luckily, I’m glad to say I’M BACK ONLINE. Man… you have NO idea how happy I am to return to the Super Informational Highway. It was like torture not having the net at my fingertips 24/7. Talk about not knowing what you have until you have it no more!! 

CAN YOU SEE ME NOW?

Oh man… this so can’t be good. In a few minutes I’m headed out to the eye doctor. Not the one I was SUPPOSED to be going to, but instead, to a specialist. HUH?

Turns out my optometrist called to say… uh, sorry. Don’t come into see me. You have to go to a retina specialist, instead. I DO??? Yikes. I soooo smell trouble here. Apparently my retina is swollen… as in: WTF DOES THAT MEAN?? I’m doomed? I’m going blind? Even more importantly, I need eye surgery??

OMG… say it ain’t so. As much as I hate surgery, even MORE… I hate surgery when I can’t even close my eyes! I’m basically a freakin’ mess before I even leave the house.

I can’t even imagine what could be coming down the pike, here. Nor what the doctor is even going to tell me. Actually, he can cut right to the chase, leaving out all the details, if he wants. Just tell me this: 1.) is it going to hurt? 2.) am I going to able to see? 3.) am I going to be able to see FOR EVER? and once again 4.) is it going to hurt?? Having these questions in mind, I’m kinda checking out the clock as I sit here, so I can figure out exactly when would be the perfect time for me to down some meds before I even leave the house. I don’t mind telling you… I’m scared s^#*less. Consequently, I’m also a nervous wreck.

No wonder. Without working eyeballs, how will I ever be able to put on my make up to look like a million bucks? How will be I be able to watch hilarious movies? How will be I able to check out my entire wardrobe and see what nifty little outfit to wear for the day? How will I be able to do ANYthing?? Let alone how will I sew, do my nails, check out great looking hunks of men, drive my car or write this blog, even? This entire deal is like MAJOR CRAPOLA.

So, off I go to see what the hell is going on. I’m also off to go grab an Ativan. Talk about HERE GOES NOTHING. Oh yeah… Here’s looking at you, kid. 

LABOR DAY

You know… today’s holiday kinda got me thinking about how I’m probably the only expectant mother I know who actually never went... INTO labor. It was kinda weird now that I think about it.

And, it was one the parts of pregnancy that sort of freaked me out, too. Case in point: there’s pain involved. Lots of pain. Which I guess is why God decided to spare me. THANK YOU, GOD. Man... have YOU ever got me pegged! He/she apparently knew that I so don’t like pain. Especially pain like THAT.

Consequently, since I never went into labor, all I know is that my baby kept GROWING AND GROWING. Uh… right smack inside me. At a certain point, the baby gets to a size whereby they're supposed to grow OUTSIDE of you. Uh, in my case however, it just wasn’t happening. Which is why, as the doctor kept monitoring the size of the baby, he decided EEEKS. This kid is not even going to FIT anymore. Let alone… he was going on 3 weeks late. Enter: caesarian section.

So there I was… having never been a patient in a hospital before, never having had a baby before, and CERTAINLY never having had a surgical procedure before… boom. I’m getting ready to have all three, lickety split. All without ever having had so much as one labor pain. None. Wanna know why?

Because the baby never dropped. Wanna know why he never dropped? Get this… OMG… the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck THREE TIMES!! No WONDER he couldn’t get outta there. No WONDER I looked like I was delivering triplets. NO WONDER I was becoming the hugest pregnant woman on earth. Seriously. It was crazy.

Okay… so basically, I was trading off the pain of being in labor for the pain of recovering from surgery. And, actually… to this day… I’d still opt for the surgical pain. Trust me… I’ve seen enough movies to know women SCREAM IN HORROR during some of their labor pains. At least, after surgery you get all kinds of nifty meds to help you survive it; plus you get excellent empathy.

You should SEE the compassionate care you get from nurses while you’re recuperating from not only abdominal surgery, but also from a zillion stitches stretching all along your bikini line. I was treated like a major queen! FINALLY, I might add. Of course I was also never going to wear a bikini either before or after delivering my son so what’s the downside?

In the meantime, I basically had a non-labor labor. So up my alley. Therefore two things: 1.) kudos to all you hard working people out there. Believe me… you deserve far more than a mere day. A week should set it about right and 2.) hats off to all you brave mothers who actually know what REAL hard labor is all about. You deserve more than a week.... you deserve a medal!

CROWNING GLORY

See this wall hook?? I love it. No wonder. I designed it! Well, sort of. I went to a flea market recently and found this huge hook, along with five other smaller ones. ALL CROWNS. So regal and SO up my alley! I brought them home, tickled pink, knowing this was 1.) going to be a perfect project for me and 2.) a great way to actually get to hang up my winter wear.

Only one problem. The hooks are made of a very lightweight metal and were all scratched and crappy looking... not particularly attractive at all. AND painted black. Bingo. Right off the bat, I envisioned them dripping in gold. With diamond and pearls, no less. Maybe rubies too, if the mood struck. Okay... so the real jewels are sorta out of the question. Damnit.

BUT… I pretended. I painted all the crowns gold, did the embellishing with faux diamonds and other faux gems and lo and behold... I now have some pretty snappy looking wall hooks happening here. I love them!

The fact that they're crowns are perfect for me. I am a definite enthusiast for the British Monarchy and would go nuts to live and/or work in a palace. Put me on ARE YOU SMARTER THAN A 5TH GRADER... and whammo. I can kick their sweet little tushes ANY day in the Monarchy dept. Note that I didn't say Jeopardy; although I bet I could hold my own with that, too. Well, maybe. Besides, I HAVE read every biography known to man about all monarchs from Victoria til today.

Anyway, I’m kinda pleased with the outcome of my wall hooks. I would even MORE pleased if only they were REAL.

ENTRANCE EXAM

Will I or won't I... that's the question of the day. Get this... as we speak, my "sponsors" are filling out forms, in the hopes I'll be accepted for a country club membership. Can you imagine? THEY MIGHT REJECT ME!! Oh man... will I ever feel like an idiot. The THEY in all this, by the way, are the Board Members of the club, as well as the Membership Committee. To even GET to that point, you have to have three current members willing to sponsor and/or vouch for you. Uh oh. Oh yeah... I'm going strictly for the Social Membership, only. As in: dining room/party facilities. I don't play golf. I don't play tennis. And, God knows... I can't use the pool area, given that would require my wearing a bathing suit. SO never going to happen. BUT... I eat like a pro!

In the meantime... thank God I've never been arrested. Thank God I have pristine credit. Thank God they don't read this blog! EEEKS. That alone could do me in, right off the bat. I have to have my entire application in by Monday. I guess I'll be interviewed sometime before October and maybe by November, I'll be judged good enough to join all the others who've already passed the entrance exam to this place. Yikes. I almost feel like I'm going out for Rush Week. What I'm really freaked out about, other than the fancy schmancy folks who will vote on either my acceptance or rejection, is the interview process. OMG... left to my own accord, God only KNOWS what sort of replies may come out my mouth. Kinda like: HAVE YOU EVER INHALED?? To which I'd say... MEEEEE?? COME ON, NOW. SURELY YOU JEST. Afterall... sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. If you catch my drift. On the other hand, forget about my replies. What the hell could their QUESTIONS be, anyway?? I can't even imagine, but trust me.... I'll brush up on my Cliff Notes, but good. HI, MARY? THIS IS LINDA. OKAY, SO WHAT EXACTLY IS GOING TO BE ON THE INTERVIEW TEST? Oh man... this is sooooo like high school sororities. Which I might add, I got into 1-2-3. So, I guess I better cross my fingers and see if I'm allowed in. Lucky for me, I'm thinking the economy sucks so horribly right now, I'll bet the applications are WAY down. If not, I wonder if they have casting couches.

THE NUMBER 40

Okay... so it rained for 40 days and 40 nights while Noah was on his Ark. Also... there are basically 40 days of Lent. Plus, the Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. And, naturally, my all time favorite... catching 40 winks is basically a perfectly timed nap. BUT... NOW?? Now, the number 40 has taken on a completely NEW meaning ...

As in: after 40 years since college... I HAVE RECONNECTED WITH MY TWO FAVORITE SUITE MATES FROM OUR COLLEGE DORM! Whoa... so never saw THAT coming. It went down like this:

I woke up one day recently, went to my computer and boom. There's a message from Facebook, telling me that Ann is wondering if I'm the same Linda from USF... who shared a suite with her and Susie. BINGO WINGO. Next thing you know, the three of us are going NUTS catching up on the last 40 years of our lives! Uh... no easy feat, I might add. TALK ABOUT EMAILS FLYING BACK AND FORTH! Can you believe it?? After ALLLL these years, I get to hook up with Ann and Susie once again. OMG... what a major event this has been for me! You can't even iMAGine all the gossip we have had to share! It's simply incredible.

I heard names of boys we all loved and lost and names of dorm girls I would NEVER have recalled if you paid me a zillion dollars! I saw pictures of us way back then that show NOT ONE WRINKLE, NOT ONE GRAY HAIR NOR ANY SPEC OF AGING, WHATSOEVER. I got to read letters that Ann kept from all three of us that no one in their mind would have EVER saved all this time. I mean, it's like we have pages and pages documenting our lives in the good ole days of college and trust me... they are definitely incredible!

Oh yeah... Ann has lived literally allll over the world having INCREDIBLE adventures. Susie has worked with folks dealing with mental challenges and more recently, been pretty much hooked into hanging with and managing some pretty nifty musicians. Me??? Uh... oh, well... gee... I taught school, raised my family and socialized with friends. Boom. That's it. Oh man.. talk about being on the opposite end of the spectrum!

Anyway, matters not. For I am so telling you, this entire reconnection experience is right smack UP MY ALLEY. You think we gossiped way back THEN? You can't beLIEVE how much we've gossiped in the past three weeks! And better yet... after 40 years,the gossip is SO much juicier!! I'm a sucker for it all.

By the way... I've reached a pretty profound conclusion, in case you're interested. Just as when Ann, Susie and I were in college, life still comes down to the ONE AND ONLY THING that drives our feminine engines: MEN! Can't live with them, but certainly can't live without them.

Between the three of us, we must have easily rattled off names of 50 men who not only rocked our world, but certainly shaped our world. Some things just never change. We are STILL trying to figure out exactly what makes men tick. And, although we may not have nailed it completely... you can be SURE we are now, far and away much wiser. Why DO we woman fantasize about "what could have been", anyway??? You almost have to ask yourself "will we EVER learn"? Well, actually, now that I think of it... the three of us HAVE learned. Kinda. Granted, the lessons haven't always been easy, but give us a challenge? Whammo... we'll come out on top, every time.

All I can say is YIPPEE. Am sooo thrilled to have Ann and Susie back in my life once again. I am wild for the laughs we've shared in the past three weeks. I'm crazy for the reminiscing we've done in the past three weeks. And as much as I loved my two college suite mates THEN...I love them more even now, thanks to these past three weeks. Oh yeah... I'm also exhausted. 40 years into 21 short days?? Now THERE'S a challenge if ever there was.

SET YOUR CLOCK

I so can't believe this. Apparently I should be thinking about getting a paper route, considering I need to be up at 4:00 a.m, anyway. Kinda like killing two birds with one stone. Get this...

I have a very specific TV schedule in the mornings. It keeps me company while playing in the background as I get up, put on make up, get dressed, make my bed, return phone calls, whatever. It's not my FAVORITE TV schedule, but via a process of elimination, I weeded out the absolutely WILL NOT WATCH shows from the OKAY, IF I HAVE NO CHOICE shows. Thrown into the mix are a couple of BINGO, DEFINITELY WATCH shows. As in: Martha Stewart.

Each morning at 10:00 I switch the channel and catch some really interesting info on what's doing in the Land of Martha. In fact, I even follow her on Twitter. So, Monday, as per usual, I click on the station... BOOM. NO MORE MARTHA!!! GONE! KAPUT! Whoa. Are you kidding me??? WHAT THE HELL IS DEAL OR NO DEAL DOING ON?? So not a show I can watch so early. WAY too much energy for 10:00 in the morning, if you ask me. Uh... by the way....I didn't take to this schedule change any too happily, trust me.

In fact, I went on the web, searched out my satellite company and my local TV station to find out exactly when she IS on. Talk about getting no where fast. So much so, that today I finally broke down and actually called the peeps at my local TV station. Sitting down??

MARTHA'S NOW ON AT FOUR IN THE MORNING!!

Huh??? WHO THE F IS UP AT THAT HOUR OF THE MORNING?? WHAT GIVES, HERE?? Well, according to the programming department, Martha apparently wasn't getting the ratings they needed during the morning time slot. WHO CARES? GIVE ME BACK MARTHA! AND MAKE IT AT TEN, TOO!

Oh man... am I ever screwed. I need to set my ALARM CLOCK to watch her?? This is totally crazy. Granted, I can set my DVR to record her show each morning, but seriously... this is completely not cool. Besides, given I'm the laziest person in the world, now, I'll have to actually walk all the way over to the remote and switch over to my DVR playlists. I'm smelling: UNNECESSARY HASSLES, here. Geez... just put the show on at regular time. Sooo much easier!

Besides, I need her show. I absolutely HATE the judge shows. I also hate the crazy ass screaming idiots on the low life talk shows. I even hate the doctor shows. Finally, I hate the "additional" hour of the morning shows. Enter: Martha Stewart Show. PERFECT CHOICE for a woman who is just beginning her day! Uh... beginning at TEN, that is. Not at four in the morning. Like who is going to watch directions for a perfect craft or start making a shopping list for a great recipe at THAT hour? I can see already, I'm sooo doomed. Damnit.

So, okay. I have to tape it daily and watch it later, at a much more reasonable hour. But, I'm telling you... I'm this far from calling Martha myself and telling her... EEEKS. THEY'RE SCREWING WITH YOU. AND WITH ME, TOO. TELL TV TO PLEASE PUT YOU BACK ON AT A REASONABLE HOUR. Of course to women like Martha, who have energy levels up the kazoo, maybe pre-dawn hours ARE reasonable. Which begs the question: I wonder exactly when she DID have to get up, while living in the big house, a few years ago. Trust me... I'll bet later than 4:00 a.m. In which case, don't make ME get up at that hour, either.

FIRST KING OF ROCK, NOW KING OF POP

I am stunned, devastated, and heartsick. Which was exactly how I felt the day Elvis died. Now that Michael is gone... you can be sure your children will never again see talent the likes of him.

If you're into statistics, by the way... I'm told Elvis was on top for 20 years before he died. Even John Lennon was on top for 20 years. Michael, on the other hand, was on top for 40... basically twice as long as the other two.

I am left speechless. Was he quirky? Yes. Was he bizarre? Yes. Was his father a prick? Yes. Was he outta his mind to hang with young boys? Yes. Was he emotionally broken? Probably. But... was he the most influential and talented musical genius worldwide, for 4 decades? Absolutely.

Michael Jackson was revolutionary, shockingly imaginative, 17 steps ahead of the MTV crowd and musically brilliant. End of story. End of a sensational artist.

FATHER KNOWS BEST

So, Sunday was Father's Day, and in honor my Dad, I decided to do a little artwork. You can see it there, in the pict next to this entry. I LOVE THIS PICTURE. I love the colors I've created for it, too. I especially love the fact that apparently my Dad didn't wear one of these the day I was conceived. Otherwise, there'd be no ME and we all know what a major shame that would have been.

In the meantime, I swear to God... my Dad was right. Papers DO get up and walk away! Boom. Kaput. Gone! IT'S CRAZY. And here, all this time, I thought Dad was merely nuts when he made this claim. Come to find out... he actually was right on target!! And, because of his wise insight, I am now in the throes of actually trying to FIND my runaway papers! So never going to happen.

I can't believe it. This is the third time this month that my fancy footwork papers have disappeared! I am going crazy, here. WHERE they walk away to, I have no clue, but I am so telling you, I NEED THEM TO COME BACK! Soon, too.

Per usual, I always remember where I put them. And, I always look right where I put them. Only problem is: they are never THERE, where I put them. Basically, they're walking right out of my life to only God knows where. Have any clue how OFTEN I've tried tracking them down?? They're not where I put them nor any where ELSE on this planet, either. I've searched every drawer, every counter top and every cabinet. I've even searched places I KNOW they can't be. Uh... like in linen closets, for example. Proving that now I'm so desperate, I'm beginning to look in places that border on the ridiculous.

One of the papers was an entire group... as in: rundowns from an annual credit report type thing. GONE. Another was the name and number of the guy who planted my tree last week. GONE. And then the third deal was something I can't even remember right now. Regardless, GONE. But, what is so freaky is that I'm pretty much a meticulous, well organized type of woman. Therefore, HOW COME I KEEP LOSING THINGS??

Well, actually. I don't. As my Dad said... these papers have legs. Thus bingo... they walk away! Forever. Hence: it's not even my fault. In fact, it's been about 10 months now, and STILL I haven't found the wall adapter for the keyboard I bought last year. MAJOR mystery going on there, however that's a whole different story onto itself.

Anyway, I wanted to wish my Dad a Happy Father's Day. Too bad he's no longer here for me to give him a hug and a kiss. On the other hand, his teachings still live on within me. As in: papers have legs and basically walk away. As in: you only get honey with honey. As in: better in your pocket than theirs. As in: you're never allowed to say Shut Up.

Of course I heard him say F it many a time, which basically goes to show you just one more way in which we were so alike. I miss you, Dad.

GENDER BENDER

Oh my God...what a week of sex. Not MY sex, mind you, but the sex of first David and now Chaz. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?? I'm kinda freaked at the news on both fronts. But not because I'm rooting for the pain and/or suffering of others. Nor because I'm against anyone doing whatever the hell they want with their personal sex lives, as long as no one is being hurt and/or forced. Instead, while these stories are right up my alley just for the mere SHOCK of it all, I'm freaked at the impact each is having on the individuals, themselves. I just can't beLIEVE what I'm reading.

Okay... the Carradine story is old news by now. I've had time to process it and move on. But then, this afternoon, I logged onto the net and boom. Right smack in front of me was the story about Chastity BECOMING A MAN! Eeeeks. So much for that adorable blonde haired princess we often saw on the Sonny and Cher Show. WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON, ANYWAY? I'd so love to have been a fly on the wall when Chaz laid THIS story on her world famous, absolutely gorgeous, diva of a mother.

Regardless... I actually found the life story of Chastity pretty enlightening. Since her original coming out a LONG time ago, I really haven't kept up with her, nor... and more to my point of interest... her love life. Reading the update of all that this afternoon, was something I found pretty damn interesting, if I say so myself. We all know there are so many ignorant homophobes running around, thus, life is obviously hard enough as is for the gay community. Unfortunately, they are subjected to plenty of hateful comments, prejudiced treatment, etc. etc. Thus, as I read about Chastity, I couldn't help but think to myself... UH OH, CHASTITY... GET READY FOR PEOPLE TO REALLY GO POSTAL ON YOU.

Personally, I get it, how people born in the wrong sexual body are living every day of their life in pain. I also get it that it takes tremendous courage to do whatever it is they must do to become authentic. But, STILL... the mere idea of having to actually physically SWITCH OUT your body parts is simply mind blowing to me. Hey.... I can't even muster up the courage to get a much needed face lift! How the hell do people undergo major PRIVATE PART SWAPPING?? Holy freakin' EEEKS. I'm like feeling stunned at the idea.

Pretty much the way I'm almost SURE Cher was stunned to find that she'll no longer have a daughter. Nor will Elijah Blue have a sister. Talk about a crazy ass sit down dinner at Christmas time this year.

Even more ironic, if you ask me, is Chastity's NAME. Like, for one whose name has to do with being chaste, holy, pure, and sexually inexperienced, this new little decision has definitely thrown a little wrinkle into her name's sake. Like in a million years, could Sonny or Cher ever possibly IMAGINED their precious little one would grow up to cut off her breasts and attach a male member? Oh man... so wasn't in the cards, I promise you. Geez... talk about getting as far from chaste as one can possibly can.

On the other hand, Bill Maher made a great point the other night. Can you even BLAME Chastity?? Have you seen the body on her MOTHER lately?? Would YOU want to gender compete with such a body? Oh man... God knows I wouldn't! I don't like even letting people with those kinds of bodies meander the streets. TOTALLY not fair to the rest of the population.

So basically, it's Good bye Chastity... Hello Trinidad. And no, not the one in the Caribbean. Instead, the one in Colorado... home of surgical sex change procedures.

DIGITAL RIPOFF

I've been with HBO ever since it's inception and I must tell you, I was delighted as all get out when they began letting us see movies right smack in our very own living rooms. WHAT A GREAT SET UP! I no longer had to take the 10 minute drive to my local BlockBuster to grab a movie that I was allowed to keep for a mere 2/3 days, let's say. Of course after HBO came into my life, that simple little 10 minute drive soon began to feel like an hour and 10 minutes, thus boom. Next thing you know, I'm soon returning the movie 4/5 days later, which naturally meant I was paying like $27 in no time at all. Anyway, GOODBYE BLOCKBUSTER. ENTER: CABLE TV. Great idea, if ever there was one. On cable TV you could rent the box instead of the films, and wow... now I was seeing ALL KINDS of things I never saw before. Crazy ass music videos, soft porn, decent movies, cooking, decorating, etc. etc. Yet through it all... my favorite has always been HBO. Well, until now, that is. I'm thinking its time for a revolt of some sort. I can't beLIEVE what old, crappy movies they bring out on center stage at the beginning of each month! I swear to God... they think we've been under a rock or something? Like, just how many times must I view Forrest Gump, anyway? The Matrix? Terms of Endearment? Geez... GIVE ME SOMETHING LESS THAN 10 YEARS OLD, ALREADY!! It's horrible. Oh yeah... forget the free Cinemax they threw in as a 3 month present for me. NEVER ONCE did I find a movie on that channel I remotely wanted to see. I'm telling you... HBO, and now Cinemax, has GOT to come back to the future, if you ask me. I feel like I'm being ripped off left and right. I mean it... am THIS far from calling them and telling them... YOUR MOVIES SUCK. And, so do you! Actually, I know EXACTLY why they're putting on such old, annoyingly repetitive movies. The want me to instead, lay out even MORE bucks for the Pay Per View movies. WHAT? ANOTHER COST TO THE CONSUMER?? This is SOOOO outta control, it's nuts. Of course, they have me between a rock and a hard place... and the cable people damn well know it. I have no choice BUT order Pay Per Views. I HAVE to... the regular movies are such MAjor crapola! So... not one wanting to settle for crap, I caved in the other day. I ordered three movies. FABULOUS ONES, I might add. And believe me.. they were well worth it.

1.) Australia

2.) Slumdog Millionaire

3.) He's Not Really All That Into You

Whoa... they were soooo great, I can't even tell you. One I had seen in the theater, granted, but let me tell you... it was SUCH A RELIEF to see a flick that wasn't already 16 years old! True, I had to shell out bucks, but they were minor bucks and less than if had I gone to the multiplex. Senior discount, included. So... bottom line:

GIVE US A BREAK, HBO. Stop grabbing every last dollar we have to rip us off with your constant reruns! BRING ON ONLY THE REALLY CURRENT MOVIES, already. Man... you want digital blood from all your customers? Besides, you don't even offer popcorn.

Oh yeah... one last request. Let us actually RECORD the Pay Per Views so that instead of just one month, I can watch it over and over and over for years and years and years. Uh... kinda like the programming you offer on your regular crappy channel line up. THEN we'd be even.

AUTO EMISSIONS

Uh, unfortunately, I'm not talking cars here, either. I'm talking David Carradine. You SO have to be kidding me. AUTO EROTICA ASPHYXIA?? Talk about a taboo subject! Wanna know why?

Because you CAN F-ING KILL YOURSELF while trying to get off! That's why!! Right smack off this planet, that is! In no WAY can I envision this as a trick set up for great sex. GEEZ... I KINDA FEEL LIKE DOING IT RIGHT NOW. WAIT... WILL BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I THROW IN A TAD OF ASPHYXIATION. Can you hand me the ropes please?? Man, I can't beLIEVE what David Carradine's family must be going through right now. It's horrible enough to die a senseless death but to die for the thrill of a one time supposedly incredible orgasm? Jesus... couldn't John or Keith have given David a heads up on this practice? No pun intended. I mean really, though... this sexual behavior is WAY off the radar, if you ask me. This auto asphyxiation deal apparently began way back in the 1600's. The story goes: some guy watching the hanging of men noted that as soon as the head snapped off, boom. Usually an erection occurred and often ejaculation. Enter: WHOA... GOOD IDEA I'M SEEING HERE, GUYS. THINK I'LL GO TRY IT.

Oh... you're welcome, by the way, for that UP TO THE MINUTE EDUCATIONAL UPDATE. In the meantime, I have no problem with auto and I have no problem with erotica. But, the minute you start bringing ropes into the mix, I get plenty nervous. Besides, I thought silk scarves were the item of choice. Regardless... I also don't have any problem with closets (remind me to tell you about the stunning hotel closet in Chicago one day) but as soon as you add asphyxiation into the fun and frolic... EEEKS. That is SOOOO not my cup of tea. Salt. Pepper. MATCH. Sex. Asphyxiate. NO MATCH. Got it, everyone?? DON'T DO IT. Besides, if you practice sexual behaviors that can kill you, how in the heck are high school kids ever going to be able to brag and/or make up lies for all their friends to hear afterwards?? Okay... as you can see, I'm quite taken with this entire episode of David's. It's mind blowing to me. Not to mention BIZARRE. Is he trying to tell the world that along with all our OTHER sexual paraphernalia, we're now supposed to include ropes?? SO NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN. And here I thought genitalia and candles were pushing the envelope. Anyway, I was so taken with all this, that I immediately called my son. HI THERE! IT'S MOM. I MISS YOU, HONEY! OH, BY THE WAY... YOU KEEP ROPES IN YOUR CLOSET?? Luckily, he was stunned at the question. (I just figured I better get a handle on this crap should he ever consider this a cool idea) Whew. Once I told him this story, he freaked as much as I did. In fact, HE flipped because he decided that for ever 10 normal looking people we see happily, carelessly walking down the street... he's thinking: 2 OF THEM ARE INTO REALLY WEIRD SEX. To which I said: Okay, here's the rule: if ever a woman starts pulling crazy ass tricks out of her sexual scenario bag... bingo! JUMP RIGHT SMACK OUT OF THE BED AND RUN STRAIGHT TO THE COUCH! THE PSYCHIATRIST'S COUCH, that is!! He laughed like nuts. I was dead serious.

I guess I just find it all so confusing. Like alright: acceptable experimentation could be fun if that's what you're into, but still... whatever happened to good ole boring standby of he on top, she on bottom, give it some time, yippee it happens, boom, it's over and then... bingo. Decide which one of you is going for the glass of water and/or snack? That scenario is NO WHERE near the level of tying yourself up from neck to privates, almost ensuring possible death. Geez...

Bottom line: Don't get me wrong. I'd kill for great sex. I'd just never die for it. And neither should you. EVER.

TWO WEEKS NOTICE

Ooops.. I had no clue I had only two weeks left. For eating store bought frosting, that is. I've been known to keep frosting for WAY longer than two weeks. Probably more than two months, even. Uh... according to the label... big mistake. So, get this. Last week, I was dying for some white cake. For DAYS my mouth was watering like crazy to eat some. And, I'm not talking pound cake kinda stuff, either. I mean like real birthday type white cake. So, finally I broke down, found a box of white cake mix in my pantry and MADE it myself. And frankly, it was pretty damn tasty, I must tell you. Then, of course came time for the main event... the icing. Which was really no big deal, given I like to keep containers of those cheezy brand name frostings as a staple in my house, exactly for times like these. Fudge Chocolate, Milk Chocolate, Deep Fudge, whatever. Thus, I was rarin' to go. Frosted white cake, chocolate icing and bingo. I'm in business.

Except, being the laziest woman on earth, I sort of went a renegade route. Get this... I didn't even FROST the cake. Instead, I decided to kinda frost as I go. As in... take a spoon full of frosting, add it to a bite size piece of cake... and boom. Let the two items co-mingle in my mouth! Can you even GET any lazier than that? But, trust me... it does the trick, perfectly well, one bite at a time. Besides, that way, the cake goes a much longer way, if you ask me. Anyway, for some reason, while I was happily munching along, I decided to read the label on the frosting container. EEEKS. Guess what? It says that upon opening, you should 1.) refrigerate the chocolate poison immediately after and THEN 2.) you should keep it for a maximum of 2 weeks. Huh?? Are they joking?? I keep it for MUCH longer than 2 weeks! Especially since that's what refrigeration is for, in the first place. Keeping food for months on ennnnnnnd. Well, at least for frosting, I'd think.

So... enter: dilemma. I should follow the label's instructions or merely make up my own instructions?? Guess what? I went with my own instructions. Of COURSE I'm keeping it longer than two weeks! What? Throw out perfectly fine icing just because the manufacturer TELLS me too?? Get out. No way I'm doing it. Besides, what happens when the chocolate attack hits me hard, late at night let's say, and I NEED a spoonfull of frosting even when I don't HAVE any cake?? I'll be pissed as hell if I had to say to myself: Oh yeah. Sorry. I threw it out because it was over two weeks old. Huh? I'D SHOOT MYSELF. No wonder. I definitely consider chocolate attacks as real time emergencies.

So, basically, I solved the dilemma before any emergency ever occurs. I'm proud to say, the opened frosting is sitting very well, on the top shelf of my refrigerator, as we speak. And am I glad it is! Hell... forget the two weeks' deal. I'm SO keeping it into the maybe 12 week range. And, I can promise you from past experience... IT WILL BE JUST FINE during that time frame. Believe me... I'm ready, willing and able to dine on crappy chocolate frosting at a moment's notice. No thanks to it's labels, I might add.

INSIDE OUT

I'm getting really pissed at all the commercials we see lately whereby I actually have to VIEW the insides of my body. Like... who gives a crapola about little germie people running up and down my nasal passages? Or, along the ventricles leading to and from my heart? What about the creepy looking little insects completely taking over my kitchen and bathrooms?? Don't even get me started on the toes loaded with fungi. I HATE looking at these disgusting commercials! I so wished they could be banned from the airwaves.

True, you're talking to a woman who can't even check out her own X-rays, CT scans or the like. Why should I? I'm not who's gone to school to learn how to read these. THE RADIOLOGISTS ARE. Which of course is why I'm paying them. Just what I need. Any news of horrible things growing inside my body is bad enough. I actually have to SEE THEM, TOO?? So not my cup of tea.

Which is why I hate those ugly commercials of veins, vessels and/or nauseating cartoon like characters. Want to be sure I switch the channel lickety split? SHOW ONE OF THOSE ADS. Boom. I'm over and done. Besides, I've yet to see even ONE person become so damn enlightened from these sort of visuals. Do me a big favor... pleaseeeee stop littering my viewing pleasure by making me sick to my stomach during commercial breaks.

On the other hand, one commercial I DO LOVE is the FreeCreditReport.com guy. I must admit, I find his songs pretty snappy. Yeah, he's doomed as hell by his credit report, but still... he's wearing the biggest smile you ever did see, singing a basically excellent little jingle. Well, he should be smiling, I guess. After all, he's making zillions with his ads.

I also love commercials where they show really delicious shrimp and lobster dinners. Man, it makes my mouth water, every time they air. I'm like ready to fly outta the house any second, headed over to wherever it is that I can grab a plate of what they're showing. THOSE commercials are aimed right smack at folks like me. Talk about knowing your target audience.

In the meantime, tomorrow I'm scheduled for a mammogram. 1.) I'm pretty sure I'll get a clean bill of health. 2.) I'm even MORE sure I'm not looking at the xrays.

FUNKY OBESSION

Granted, I have many obsessions. My feet, for example. I really like having them look in tip top, spiffy condition 24/7. Perfectly clean, feminine looking, well pedicured, etc. I'm also obsessed with being sure I never breathe in anyone's germs should they cough and/or sneeze anywhere within a 35 foot radius of me. Traveling on an airplane? You should only SEE what I do to keep myself protected from other people's contaminating airspace. I know... I'm nuts. But today, I had a realization... yet another obsession is taking hold in the Land of Linda. I think I'm ALSO obsessed with mowing my lawn. Well, not the actual act of mowing per se, but with the way it LOOKS when the job is done. I love WATCHING the gardener when he's cutting the grass. Like, I turn into a sort of creepy peeping Tom or something. I'm obsessed with comparing the cut part, VS the uncut part. Yeah, yeah, I know. This sounds pretty racey, but let's try to keep our heads out of the gutter, shall we? Oops. Again, poor choice of words.

In any case, I am particularly intrigued with the clean, well manicured line created by the mower as it goes up and down the lawn. It's like I can't take my eyes off the transformation that takes place. One minute the height of the overgrown grass is unsightly. Boom. The next minute, its as stunning as any botanical garden you've ever seen! As it happens, everyone on my street basically has their lawn cut every week. I'm a cheapo, however so I only have it done every OTHER week. Have any clue how JEALOUS I become on my off week?? Watching all the other lawns on the block transform into this stunning sea of soft green? Oh man... its nuts. Its also pricey. So... the other day I had an idea. Instead of paying the gardener to mow it EVERY week, why don't I just BUY a lawn mower and cut it mySELF on the off weeks?? Oh yeah... I decided I'm doing the front yard only. The backyard is way too big to attempt. My obsessions DO have boundaries, I see. So, at first I was going to check out Lowe's and see about my choices. Uh... like just how DO you buy a lawn mower, anyway? Naturally, I've spoken to several men, asking for advice. I figured what a great birthday present for me! However... I THEN decided hold on. I should really wait until FATHER'S Day and cash in on some fabulous bargain aimed at the mower dept. I SO CAN'T WAIT. Of course, my gardener told me... Hey, don't BUY one. With the money you spend on a lawn mower, you could be having ME do it every week, for pretty much the same cost. Uh... he might be right... a minor glitch to my plans, I see. Not only that, I'd have to store the damn thing in my already crammed to the limit garage. But... I'm not giving up quite yet. I'll have to see what these little deals go for, and then I'll make my decision. Which only means... come this Tuesday, when everyone else's lawn looks spiffy as hell, I'm going to be sitting here watching, my mouth watering and as always, feeling pretty damn jealous. And of course... obsessing over the fact their lawns are gorgeous while mine looks like major crapola. Talk about keeping up the Joneses.

WHAT 61 LOOKS LIKE

YIPPEE. Tuesday was my birthday. Normally, I'd bitch about.... eeeks.... how old I am, but then I thought about what the alternative was, and decided instead, I should be THRILLED about my age. After all, neither Bob nor Linda ever made it to 60, so as far as I'm concerned, I should be tap dancing all OVER the damn place. Besides, I'm in excellent health. Well, okay. My sight, hearing and memory are on their way out, but at least I'm not wearing Depends 24/7. Uh... almost, but not quite yet. When my kid was just a toddler, many, MANY moons ago and he'd go to three year old birthday parties... I remember telling my friends... YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT THEIR GRANDMOTHERS LOOK LIKE! WAY BETTER THAN I DO! DAMNIT. And, it was true. Back then, I was like as haggard looking as you can imagine. I was also pretty blimpy given it was mandatory that I eat everything my toddler didn't. Oh, he had a clean plate, alright. Thanks to me. Plus, I was far from being COMPLETELY happy, being I was pretty much almost slave like to this little kid. Took me no time at all to realize housekeepers, babysitters, mothers helpers and sleep overs were my path to sanity. 1-2-3, I nailed those deals like a pro. Anyway, my kid is a man now and I'm 61. And, I'm a pretty damn happy 61 year old, at that. I look somewhat decent. I get good reports from my doctors. I have zillions of really fabulous friends and I have a loving family. I love my house and all my techie toys. I've got smarts and I've got experience. I've been around the block and I've racked up some pretty juicy memories. I know how to Twitter and I received lots of great birthday wishes via Facebook. Of course, I'm hoping to keep adding to this list and you know what? I am convinced I will! Yippee... bring it on. Well, don't bring on any more cell phone features. They're losing me but fast. So, basically... you want to know what 61 looks like? Bingo. There you have it, up there in the pict. It was taken on my birthday, so it's as up to the minute as you could want. Plus... Claudia and I looked at a picture of my grandmother recently, when SHE was about 61. NEWSFLASH: I look TOTALLY better than she did. Maybe she too, should have gone blonde. Regardless, for those of you out there who've yet to reach 61, take a tip from an old, wise lady: You're hopefully no where NEAR your prime. The best is DEFintely yet to come.... I'm living proof. Well, as long as you make peace with sagging bodies and early bedtimes, that is.

OIL MEN

Today I was pretty much scared out of my wits. ONSTAR, my vehicle diagnostic system, likes to send me email every month letting me know the exact status of how my car is running. Actually, it's a pretty neat deal, if you ask me. I drive my car. They tell me how my car is running. They do this via a satellite system that apparently is hooked into me and/or my car. Together, we make a great team. Except when they lie. As in: today. I received my monthly update of all the readings in my car... oil levels, current mileage, transmission, brakes, locking, airbag, emission systems, etc., etc. You name it, ONSTAR can track it. And, then, of course, they report to you via email. One minor glitch, however. THEY SCARED THE HELL OUT OF ME TODAY! Get this... I read the report, happy as a lark, scrolling down the page, seeing that everything is A-OK. Uh... until I get to the Oil Report, that is. I HAVE 0% OF OIL LEFT IN THE CAR!! Whoa. So not a good thing. Like, the transmission is going blow up at any second now, potentially costing me zillions of dollars to repair. EEEKS. Hence, I knew I had to take the car in SOMEtime today, after 1:00.

However... at 2:00 I decided to take a nap, instead. Big mistake. Who knew I'd sleep for 2 hours?? Bingo. I wake up, and about 4:30, I call my dealer, ask if it's too late for an oil change, they tell me sorry lady, we close at 5:00. So next, I call my trusty little neighborhood Oil Changing Man and he too, leaves at 5:00. But, not until he tells me: DON'T DRIVE THE CAR ANOTHER SECOND. YOU'LL BE DOOMED. As will the car. Instead, get to a gas station IMMEDIATELY and someone there will help you add the oil.

Damn right they will. Get this... I had no less than 6 gentlemen eager and willing to help out an old lady, knowing full well I had no clue what's entailed in adding oil. I couldn't believe it. I made friends FAST, trust me. We all deliberated on which grade of oil I needed, I bought it, and then we headed out to lift the hood. Uh... ANOTHER thing about which I had no clue.

It was right smack at that moment that Charles drove up. Bingo a REAL friend. He got into the mix lickety split and bingo, we were on our way. EXCEPT... within moments after that... you'll never guess who showed up! EUREKA! The ever popular, trusty, little neighborhood Oil Changing Man!! Whoa... talk about fortuitous!! Apparently he left work at five, just like he said and yikes! He headed straight to the exact gas station in which I was standing!! SEE?? I DID EXACTLY AS YOU TOLD ME!! I'M HERE!! Aren't you proud of me??

Needless to say, all of us moved out of the way to let the REAL man of hour do the trick. Guess what? First thing he did was actually CHECK the car's oil reading. Duh. EEEEEEKS. Guess what? I DIDN'T EVEN NEED OIL, AFTERALL!! In fact, I still had 41% of oil life LEFT!! Am so telling you... I was AMAZED at how serendipitous this was!! Can you believe it????

So, basically, ONSTAR lied. That's the bad news. The good news is: me and my newly made friends, all need to hook up again next week, same time, same place. Am telling you... I've found the secret to the manliest place in town. Forget bars. Forget wood shop classes. Forget hardware stores. Head right smack straight to a gas station! They're loaded with macho guys THRILLED to help little old ladies. Meaning: if you're YOUNG, you've soooo got it made. Trust me on this.

I'M FULL, THANKS

But Mia Farrow isn't. She's on a hunger strike. Hence, I've gotta imagine she's pretty damn starving at this point. Oh yeah... she looks like crap, too. I just don't GET why people are into hunger strikes. Man... there are people all over the world that would kill for what Mia might have stashed away in her side by side refrigerator. But... NO THANKS. I THINK I'LL STICK WITH MY DIET OF WATER, ONLY. For three weeks, mind you! Huh?? That even makes sense?? There aren't BETTER ways to hit home the plight of millions in Darfur? Besides, one of the problems Mia's trying to highlight is, get this: MALNUTRITION. What? Can't lick 'em, so join 'em?? Whoa. Now that's an interesting switcheroo. She's on day nine of this three week stint. I can't even imagine what she'll look like when it's all over. Plus... I've sorta gotta tell you. I have never yet been influenced for a cause due to a Hunger Strike. It's true. I hear of them of course, but it never makes me ponder more seriously, the issue. Rather, to me, it takes away from the issue. As in: making me think... WHAT?? IS THIS PERSON NUTS?? Starving?? That's the best way they can dream up help for humanitarian causes? Or ANY cause? I don't buy it. My guess is... they just might be trying to fit into an outfit for an upcoming event lickety split, thus... why not just kill two birds with one stone?? Look great (ahem) by being gaunt in three weeks AND then, concurrently grab some possible political attention. You can be mighty sure of one thing, I promise you. I'D NEVER go on a starvation diet! I can hardly hold out from meal to meal! Which is probably why right now, right smack next to me on my desk, is an opened bag of Fritos. Hey. What can I say?? Dinner is still about 3 hours away! Granted I should go on SOME kind of a diet... but starvation?? Are you kidding me?? I'd rather keep this unsightly chubby look ANY day than consider starving myself! Besides... denying myself was NEVER my strong suit. Which is why even I, can hardly stomach my birthday suit.

LET'S PLAY PASSWORD

I swear to God... I am so freaked right this minute, you can't believe it. For YEARS now, I've used a fabulous password program that stores all the hundreds of passwords I have. Yeah, yeah. I know... way too many. But, you gotta know... I do EVERYTHING on my computer, thus, I've got a zillion sites that require passwords for entry. And, naturally, I could NEVER keep them all stored in my fried little brain. So boom. I have this password software whereby you only need to remember ONE password to get into the program and bingo, you've got access to all the other passwords you need for every OTHER program. Kinda like: Goodbye ever having to remember ALL of them. Or writing down all of them. This other way, using my password program, it is soooo much easier. One password. You're in. You've got access to the rest. Well, if you can reMEMber the one major password, that is. OH MY GOD.. I so can't believe I can't launch the software. I've tried like a horde of possibilities and NONE OF THEM WORK. I am so doomed, it's crazy. And, not only does this software store my passwords, but also, it has a HUGE amount of info needed for a particular site. Like, my registration numbers, my favorite pets' names, direct phone numbers for customer service, renewal dates... hell... MY ENTIRE COMPU-LIFE! Basically, my downfall was last Saturday. I CHANGED THE MAJOR ONE PASSWORD. Wow... what a mistake THAT was, I see. Every time I used it, I bitched because it wasn't easy to type. So... FINALLY... after years and years, on Saturday I decided to take the leap and change it. HELLLLP. WTF did I change it to??? I swear... I have no freakin' clue whatsoever. Oh man. This is so not good. And worst of all, I don't think I'll EVER be able to find a work around for it, either. Sh*^... I just don't know what to do, now. Except... go eat some ice cream, maybe. Hopefully the sugar rush will clear my brain and in a dream like state, the password will come to me. Yeah, right. SO never going to happen.

DOING THE FOOTWORK

Okay... so I see that if I'm ever going to get my blog published, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands, do the footwork, and find a publisher mySELF. Naturally, I was pretty much hoping that someone ELSE would find me the fame and all I'd have to do was sit back, bat an eyelash and look pretty. Uh... apparently that's so not the way it's going down.

Meaning, now... I have to figure just HOW do I get my name out to all the fancy schmancy publishers, anyway? Well, get this... I began working on a business strategy. It's so way cool, that even if it DOESn't work, it'll still be worth the effort. Best of all, everything's basically been for free, so far.

FREE?? Yessiree. Definitely up my alley. And, my pocketbook is pretty much thrilled about it, too. Get this... I was told about a web site. On the web site, you get to order allll sorts of advertising and/or business items. So, first thing I did was order 50 pens, advertising my blog. I designed the whole deal just the way I love it. Order comes, I love it. THEN, BOOM. Next thing you know... this site sends me all kinds of specials... EVERYDAY... for everything you can get under the sun. FOR FREE no less.

YIPPEE. I put on my thinking cap and whammo. Next thing you know, I'm designing business cards, postcards, sticky notes, over sized postcards... you name it, I'm ordering it. THEY ARE SO FABULOUS I can't even tell you. See the picture up above? That's one of the postcards I had made! Again, FOR FREE. As in, example: 100 over sized postcards for the mere cheapo cost of shipping! I LOVE THIS DEAL. It's simply fantastic! Unfortunately, my picture here, doesn't really do the postcard justice. It's way better if seen in the flesh. It's actually the size of half sheet of printing paper, except... it's got a glossy front, perfect printing, great color, and an excellent note on the back to grab the attention of hopefully, my brand new publisher. Oh yeah... there's also a place for the mailing address on the back. What I'm shooting for of course, is for some wildly famous publishing company to take one look at it and say: YES! THIS IS PERFECT FOR US! WE'RE DOING A BOOK OF THIS BLOG IMMEDIATELY! GET THIS LADY ON THE LINE ASAP! Bingo. I sign a contract.

Now, of course, if I'm ever going to see this actually happen, I have to move right smack into Business Strategy Plan No. 2. As in: SEND ALL THESE ITEMS TO THE PUBLISHING HOUSES! And... uh... cross my fingers. I swear to God. If ever I do become famous and published... I'LL BE TAP DANCING ALL OVER THE DAMN HOUSE, HAPPY AS A LARK, YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BELIEVE IT.

Talk about from my lips to God's ear. I should only be so lucky. On the other hand, stranger things have happened. Thus, moral of story? Never say never. Better yet... YOU'LL be able to say: I KNEW HER WHEN!

SWEET TOOTH

See this menu? I am so telling you... it's by far the BEST dessert menu I have EVER seen. And, trust me... I've seen PLENTY! Ordered from plenty, too. But these choices?? THE MOST REMARKABLE SELECTIONS EEEEEEEVER!! Which of course is why I am sharing them with you in the first place.

Last week I went to visit Nina. In New Jersey no less. Bingo... I flew up north. Now THAT'S not something I do any too often. But... for Nina? I'd go in a flash! So, needless to say, I had a FABULOUS time being with her again. We must have sat up until 2:30 in the morning that first night, jabbering about God knows what, catching up on years and years of stories, and having laughs up the kazoo. Even Jeff hung out with us... who could blame him? There are any two girlfriends on the planet that can come up with such great gossip as we two? Uh... I don't theeeenk so.

Anyway, the entire visit was a blast. I have a zillion parts of it which I could relate to you, but after thinking about it, I HAD to go with the desserts that about 7 of us ordered on Saturday night. It was a girls' night out and best of all, the night was spent in the dining room at the Maplewood Country Club. WHAT A MEAL I HAD. Soooooo up my alley. I wanted to down everything in sight, and basically, I did. Uh.. until my stomach radar went off and reminded me: OH NO YOU DON'T. YOU'LL NEVER MAKE IT HOME IF YOU EAT ALL THAT RIGHT NOW. As in: major stomach ache could kick in any moment and you'll never make it home in time. You have NO idea how much I hate hearing that radar.

Regardless, just TAKE A LOOK at the menu! When's the last time you saw a real live BANANA SPLIT as your first choice???? Whoa. Once you see that... BOOM! YOU KNOW YOU'RE IN FOR GREAT TREATS. And man, was I ever. What I particularly loved, too, was that everyone ordered something different! AND... they were allllll stupendous choices. No one dared to utter the words... uh... FRESH FRUIT CUP, PLEASE. Thank God. I would have so kicked that person away from the table as soon as the words spilled from her mouth.

So... Okay. Banana Split. Chocolate Thunder. Chocolate Confusion Cake. New York Cheesecake. Sorbet. And Ass't Hagen Daaz Ice Cream. A MENU FROM HEAVEN! I was so taken with these delicious possibilities, I didn't know where to BEGIN. Naturally, had I not had my stomach radar on, I would have DEFINITELY gone with the Banana Split. (thankfully, the person next to me ordered it) So, what DID I choose?? Soooo bland a choice, I'm embarrassed to even tell you. Mind you, I had my probable stomach ache to consider. Ready??

NEW YORK CHEESECAKE!! Man, was it good! EVERYthing was good! On the other hand, nothing was better than being with Nina. Thank you Nina for taking me to my all time favorite place to eat. I can't WAIT to be there again. And, to select from this menu again.

CRIME STOPPERS

Speaking of which, where are they WHEN I NEED THEM?? Am SO F-ING FREAKED RIGHT NOW, YOU'D NEVER BELIEVE IT. Get this.. I was sitting here, working at the computer, and I look out my front window. I see a black pick up truck drive right smack up to my mailbox AND STEAL EVERY DAMN THING OUT OF IT! Including: THE SPECIAL ORDER PACKAGE I WAS WAITING FOR. As in: $150 down the drain!!!

I can't even TELL you how upset I am. Oh yeah, the police are on their way over as we speak. I NEED TO FIND THIS THIEF LICKETY SPLIT SO I CAN RETRIEVE MY PACKAGE!! Eeks! God only knows what ELSE was in the mail box, by the way. Checks? Bills? Personal love letters from my adoring public? Jeez.. this is SO NOT COOL.

Oh yeah... I'm not the first in the neighborhood to have been vandalized. Apparently this guy has been busy up the kazoo doing this to my neighbors, too. And.. if THAT wasn't enough... my mailbox has already been damaged, hence LUCKY ME. I get to order a brand new one... for $250 I MIGHT ADD!! S@^*!!!!! I am so upset I can't even tell you. Okay so that's how it all started. Here's how it all ended.

As it happened, the police came. I gave my eyewitness account of all that went down, but trust me... I have little faith anything can be done after the fact. Besides, given the time I had to report the hundreds of thousands of dollars of jewelry that my mother's nurses stole... I am SO dealing with Andy of Mayberry. Better yet... Barnie and Gomer. Anyway, the policeman told me to check out the nearby gas stations, etc. for my discarded mail. Apparently the thief likes to first check out what they want, then rid themselves of the evidence. Anyway, I'm like driving around my area for almost an hour. No luck.

I get home... GUESS WHAT?? There's a phone message from some guy about a mile away. HE'S GOT MY PACKAGE!! YIPPEE!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! Uh... the crooks deemed it unworthy, for their own personal use, I see. That's the good news. The bad news of course is: I still don't have my mail. Nor will I ever get it. Whatever. In the meantime...

I hightail over to this guy's house without skipping a beat. Apparently the thief left my neighborhood, headed to his, opened the package, decided it didn't fit their needs, and boom. They merely threw it out the window, onto this man's lawn. Okay... three things. First, the thief obviously has no taste. THIS WAS A GREAT PACKAGE. Second... if he was going to toss it ANYWHERE, why not just toss it back to ME? Afterall, he knows where I live! Talk about poor planning regarding gasoline consumption. Lastly...

Upon entering my subdivision, lo and behold, who should I see but Michael! The BUILDER of my amazingly stunning home! Needless to say, I lay the entire story on him... I know. Just what he needs. Anyway, get this... by the time we're winding down this lastest soap opera, come to find out... his oldest child can now become MY VERY OWN PERSONAL MAILBOX PICKER UPPER! As in: Yippee! While I'm away, bingo. I'll not only have a personal U.S. mailman but NOW my very own personal mailboy, too! Talk about a silver lining, huh?

So... bottom line to all this?? If EVER you see some Caucasian guy, between the age of 18-28, driving a black pick up truck, wearing an orange cap, NAIL HIM! TIE HIM UP! CALL THE POLICE!! He SO deserves to visit the big house. To which, naturally... I'm sending him hate mail.

SEX IN THE CITY

Oh my God... today was SO not like any other. I just can't TELL you what sort of field trip I was on... but, trust me, I have to try.

Wilma and I headed to Asheville today. She... so she could drop off some papers for the AIDS center at which she volunteers; me so I could hit the fancy schmancy makeup counters to get my pricey makeup supplies. Basically right off the bat, you can see who has whose best interests at heart. Wilma is out to serve others. I'm out to serve myself. I know... I'm not proud of it, but regardless... it is what it is.

So, okay. We go to WNCAP... our area's most wonderful organization that helps to serve the public; AIDS patients in particular, so they may live as rewarding/healthy a life as possible. I walk in to the center and boom. Right off the bat, I meet Chris... a head honcho in the organization, I think. No sooner do I say hello to Chris, then I see on the main table... a big bowl of condoms. LOTS OF CONDOMS. All colors, all sizes, all styles, etc. etc. I'M LIKE IN CONDOM HEAVEN, if such a place is ever your desire.

Naturally, I grab as many as I can possibly hold on to, so I'll have, ahem... as mementos, shall we say... from this most enlightening field trip, ever. No sooner do I have these in hand, then Chris tells me: WAIT... I JUST GOT IN THE LATEST CONDOMS ON THE MARKET... here, have a couple. Wow. Talk about being two steps ahead of the crowd. That's them up in the picture, here. So anyway, by now, it's embarrassingly apparent that my hands are cupped, overflowing with condoms.

BUT WAIT... next thing I know... Chris is leading me down a hallway to what turns out to be the SEXUAL NECESSITIES UP THE KAZOO ROOM. I swear.. I WAS FLOORED. In this small room, from like ceiling to floor, are SO MANY SEXUAL ENHANCEMENT ITEMS, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO LOOK AT FIRST! Things I never ever even HEARD OF, BEFORE, too! And, trust me... I've been around the block once or twice. Hence, this bordered on SHOCKING!

Huh?? DENTAL DAMS?? FEMALE CONDOMS?? Whoa...YOU'VE ever seen these before??? Man, this was DEFINITELY the best education I've received in a LONG time. As if that wasn't enough, I was then gifted a bunch of these never before heard of items, PLUS a slew of the scented lubricant packages. Know how many of THOSE I took?? Talk about needing a Bloomingdales' Big Brown Bag.

So anyway... you'd almost think my journey was over. WRONG. You sitting down?? I was then ushered into Aminah's office and WITHIN THREE SECONDS OF SAYING HELLO... BOOM! RIGHT SMACK ON HER DESK SHE PLOPS DOWN TWO SUCTION CUPPED DILDOS!! Are you f-ing KIDDING ME???? My mouth dropped! I was aghast!! I was thrilled, don't get me wrong, but still... I WAS STUNNED! Man oh man... this was by far, the most interesting experience I can almost ever remember. Uh... I highly recommend you try this some day.

Okay... so I'm with Aminah, staring at the dildos. How long you think it was before she then GIVES ME A PERSONAL LESSON ON HOW TO PUT A CONDOM ON ONE OF THEM!! Think: milliseconds! Oh my God... HELLO? HBO?? REAL SEX SERIES?? HI... IT'S LINDA. I'M IN AMINAH'S OFFICE AND THIS LADY IS SOOOO UP YOUR ALLEY! Actually, mine too, now that I think about it. YOU NEED TO HIRE HER!

By the way... you think you just need to open up condom packages and whip them on?? SO NOT THE CORRECT WAY! There are actually INSTRUCTIONS on how to apply them properly! And, uh... no. I'm not going to go into detail about how to do it the right way, but if you DON'T know... head over to Aminah, 1-2-3. I promise you... you'll be pro in no time flat.

END OF FIELD TRIP?? Not by a long shot! Get this... next thing I know... I'M BEING SHOWN HOW TO USE A DENTAL DAM (don't even get me started) and the FEMALE CONDOMS. EEEEKS. You have NO idea what these look like (nor how big they are) let alone how they're used. Whoa, is all I can say. Oh yeah... point of information... go out and load up on a bundle of jellies. Apparently, you'll need them, too. See? I'm a quick study, afterall!

All I know is, at this point, my head was spinning!!! Oops.. I almost forgot. Aminah was kinda apologetic she didn't have her anatomically correct female model to show me. ARE YOU JOKING?? THANK GOD she didn't. That would have put me over the edge, for ever! I am so telling you... this is DEFintitely a day that will go down in history for me. Therefore, two last things...

1.) Thanks Chris and Aminah, for one hell of an interesting day! WNCAP deserves every donation it gets! Congratulations to you both.

2.) Thanks Wilma, for introducing me to the REAL Sex in the City production! In a million years, I would never have imagined such an explicit education. In something I thought I already KNEW about, no less. Forget that deal about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks. Apparently, that's very old school.

CAFFEINE WINS

Something really weird is going on with me lately. I've discovered I have absolutely no motivation and/or energy whatsoever, to get up and do anything. I wake up after a perfectly nice, long night's sleep and get this... I could EASILY fall right smack back to sleep all over again! In fact, it's almost like a preference for me. So... the big question is: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE? Why am I so damn lazy? Who knew I could even get lazier that I already AM?? It's really bizarre. Thus, to answer this crazy question, I did some reflecting. Okay... so I know I'm basically heavy into relaxation, even on a good day. I also know that I'm basically a home body, so running all over town from 9 to 5 was never in the cards, to begin with. And, I know I'm basically getting done all I NEED done, even if it's at a pretty mellow pace. Most important of all, however, is that I know even for ME, I'm way too tired. As in: a day without a nap is like a day without purpose. So guess what? I think I hit upon a possible reason for all this nonsense! You'll never believe it. Oh yeah... background information: I am addicted to Diet Coke. Always have been, probably always will be. Actually, it even replaces my morning cup of coffee. I much prefer drinking something cold when I wake up, rather than something hot. Anyway... about three months ago, when I did that heart monitoring deal for palpitations, I made a huge personal decision. I went CAFFEINE FREE ONLY!! Eeeks. Oh, trust me... I still downed as many Diet Cokes as normal, but... I downed them without any caffeine in it whatsoever.

AHA!!! No caffeine?? NO MORE BUZZ to get up and get going! I swear to God... I THINK THAT'S THE PROBLEM!! I mean it. Is that even possible?? I'M BEGINNING TO THINK SO. Therefore, to test my theory... get this... I had one caffeinated Diet Coke yesterday morning. The results? ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD!! BINGO.. Once again am back in the game!! On top of my game, too. WHO KNEW? Oh, and by the way, I'll TELL you who knew... click on this web site Death by Caffeine and check it out. It's VERY cool and while the good news is, that I've got my buzz back, according this site, I'M THIS CLOSE TO PUSHING UP DAISIES!! Oh my God!! Talk about dilemmas!! Hmmm... I guess I'll just have to pretend I didn't read that info, given there is no way I can live without Diet Coke. Regardless of it's killing me.

Then today, to DOUBLE check my theory, I woke up, had some Diet Coke with caffeine and YIPPEE. I feel great again! THE THEORY IS WORKING! Man, am I ever glad I took this scientific testing approach. I can actually leave my house once again! Which is good since I need to some day soon, go to the doctor and find why my arm muscles are all of a sudden killing me. OUT OF THE BLUE I'm like in major pain, here. Of course, my immediate thought was: I've developed some major life threatening muscle deterioration problem and I have no clue WHY.

That's the bad news. The good news is: at least I'll now have the energy to GET to the doctor, to find out.