I'm getting major sick of hearing George W. address the Iraqi issue. He's like a blubbering broken record, using the same tired talking points over and over. Additionally, the points themselves are so damn lame, it's embarrassing. As if that's not enough, he's addressing the issues with the worst grammatical usage I've ever seen from ... uh... a supposed statesman. On THAT count, I could easily be President. Granted, being "major sick" is not at all grammatically correct. But on the other hand ... I've yet to be elected to the highest office in the land.
Case in point: Right now, as I write, President Bush is being interviewed by Brian Williams on MSNBC. In describing his personal reading choices, Bush claims his taste in reading is eceletic. WHAT? ECELETIC??? Since WHEN is eceletic a word?? The word is: ECLECTIC for God's sake! This sort of stupidity from the leader of the free world just freakin' kills me.
That's number 1. Number 2 is that if I were President, I'd oust Rumsfeld in a jiffy. He's not even worthy of comment. Suffice it to say, I find him leading us down a proven horrible path, with no sign of remarkable military success whatsoEVER. End of disscussion.
Next, I'd tell Iraq... okee dokee folks; we got rid of your dictator. You're welcome. Since the take down, we've tried the best damn way we (the greatest military force on earth) knew how, to bring you an opportunity to develop your own government and repair your war damage. In fact, we've spent, what?? four years??, fighting all the obstacles your countymen have placed before us. Thanks a lot for all those obstacles, by the way. And, thanks too, for all those religious nut jobs killing us while we try to get you up and running once again. Whatever. Game's over. You win.
Therefore, as President, my message would be along the lines of: Uh... Guess what, Iraq. We are FINISHED. Good-bye. Nice knowing you. Our here work is done. Kaput. Over. No more. As of this moment, YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN, kiddies. Do whatever the hell you want in your land and by the way ... rots 'o ruck doing it. Shoot up every religious sect you f-ing want and let any fanatical idiot you choose, be your leader. At this point, I could care less what you guys do. Oh, and by the way... you might want to rethink your message from Allah. You're telling me your God insists that you kill every human being on earth who is not as fanatically, radically violent as you?? Pullllease.
Whew. I feel better, now that I spewed. Thanks for indulging me. Thanks too, for allowing me any/all grammatically incorrect sentence structures as well as any/all creative vocabulary. I'd make a great President.
Any day now, I could be whisked away from my modest little house, to instead, a government-funded Big House. The kind where black and white stripes are in fashion. Will it actually happen? I doubt it, but just in case... I figured I'd give everyone a heads up.
I've previously mentioned how absolutely thrilled I am with my new DSL line. It' simply the best thing EVER. And while most people my age use their computer for email, travel planning, paying bills etc., I have always used my computer for far more. I use detailed imaging software to maintain my family/digitals photos. I record all my check book transactions to give annual financial reports to my accountant. I save/scan all my important documents, develop web pages and/or blog entries, and I've perfected all sorts of desktop publishing programs. I seach the internet for possible physician malpractice suits against my doctors (why take chances?) and download zillions of free computer applications, including about 200 additional fonts. Apparently, the first 100 aren't enough.
But the BEST thing I do now, is download music files which is ... ahem ... let's just say... not the way you're SUPPOSED to get your music. You're supposed to PAY for it, so that artists get their royalties, etc. But according to anyone under the age of 35, screw the $$$ and instead, risk jail time.
Before I got fast access, I didn't even consider downloading songs... it took WAY too long. Now however, I swear, in two minutes or less, you can have absolutely ANY song known to mankind. It's a sheer miracle. I'm just wild about it. Case in point: I've now got Frank Sinatra singing ISLE OF CAPRI, Elton John and George Michael singing in unison DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME, as well as Bobby Darin belting out BEYOND THE SEA and I'M BEGINNING TO SEE THE LIGHT. I just can't beLIEVE how fabulous it is to burn all the songs you've ever loved, onto a single CD! It definitely blows my mind. Naturally, I had to also download freeware so I could convert the .mp3 files to .wav's, but that was simple enough. I guess most people are using the .mp3's to load their iPods. Me, I'm just making CDs with which to sing along in the car. If you've never done this, I highly recommend it.
However... don't get floored when you see what the song titles of the 21st century are like. IT'S CRAZY. I'm telling you, the music our children and grandchildren are hearing are WAY TOO obscene. PRET-ty scarey, if you ask me. Like, since when is it okay to record a song entitled (and this a tame one) I WANNA GET IN YOUR PANTS??? Are you KIDDING me?? Don't ask.
See? That's what's nuts. The Feds don't give a HOOT about the major trashy recordings being heard by kids today. But, find an old lady like me who's downloading Sting's EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE and boom! I'm on the FBI list and therefore, reason to possibly be carted off to jail. In which case, please send cigs.
Are you kidding me?? Can you beLIEVE the difference in these two picts? One is of a socialite beauty in private school and the other is of a doofus to the nth degree in public school. We are both ten years old, but while Jackie already has the looks of a refined, extraordinary future icon, I have the looks of a jerk that only a mother can love. Note that Jackie had the wherewithal to keep her sweet, delicate mouth closed for her smile while I apparently figured that showing off a 14 inch gap in my teeth is a good thing. What an A hole I was.
Check out the hair styles, too. I suspect Jackie's nanny probably spent a bit of time meticiously combing her ringlets while Hazel, our housekeeper at the time, never once put a brush to my hair. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, I'm probably sporting a Toni do it yourself home perm my Mother gave me. Honestly... this just kills me. I can't stop laughing at what's going on with my "look".
What gets me is imagining if both Jackie and I were in the same class. Is it even POSSIBLE she'd ever befriend me? Someone looking like this pict?? Actually, now that I think about it, even if Jackie were to have met me 40 years later, I'm not at all sure we'd be on the same page even then. Oh well... some people were meant for fame from the very start. Others were meant for mere adoration of the famous for the rest of their lives. Guess which category I fall into.
Well, shiver me timbers, mate. I'M FINALLY surfing the net at jet speed. I can't beLIEVE how great this is. I feel like a bird soaring the skies for the first time in my life. It's definitely the next best thing to sliced bread. It took me 12 years of being on a dial up connection to finally make the call to BellSouth and say HOOK ME UP!
The equipment arrived yesterday and today, thanks to Claudia and Barbara, I'm back in the real world. Trust me... it took the three of us to do it, but do it we did. Actually, the computer installation was no real problem. Much more, was the fanagling of the wires, rearranging outlets, adding splicers, etc. BUT... it's a done deal now and boy am I thrilled.
Already, I checked out photo albums from family celebrations, watched a bunch of Elton John music videos and even uploaded a bunch of files in mere seconds. Even posting a new blog entry was done in NO TIME at all. I just can't believe this. Am telling you... if now, the billing from Cingular and Direct TV reflect the new discounted charges, I'll be on a major roll. THANK YOU GOD FOR GIVING ME THE GIFT OF SPEED.
Of course, now all that's left, is to figure out how to send/receive faxes via my computer. HA. Now THERE'S a challenge if ever there was!
Well, not exactly. Apparently you also need a really well drafted Pre-Nup. Especially if you've got a total net worth of billions. Kinda like Sir Paul McCartney. And, if you're planning to marry a woman kinda like Heather Mills.
I get it that many couples who plan to marry don't want to get bogged down in nasty little details like $$$$. It sorta puts a little damper on things when you are madly in love yet can't even agree on the financial details of how to split money should you ever break up. Talk about foreboding. On the other hand, when you've got BILLIONS, isn't it like another story ALtogether?? Isn't a pre-nup like almost MANdatory?? Hasn't anyone learned ANYthing from The Donald??
Now, bear in mind, Paul was apparently madly in love with Heather and although she was no Linda, he had high hopes for her being a Linda Two. Thus, money settlement wasn't something with which he planned on having to grapple. Way naive, my Sir. In a short 3/4 years not only did the couple marry, but they hooked into a zillion chairities, had a kid, fell out of love and, what a surprise, found themselves in the throes of a REALLY nasty divorce. Okay. So, s#@* happens.
In which case, Paul offers this second love of his life $60 million dollars. Nice income for 4 years. BUT... is that enough for sweet, magnanimous Heather? Uh... NO. SHE NEEDS MORE. Like maybe half of Paul's estate. WHAT?? HE'S BEEN KNIGHTED FOR GOD'S SAKE. HE'S BEEN AN IMPECCABLE, STAND UP KIND OF GUY FOREVER. HE'S WORKED HIS ASS YEARS BEFORE I THINK HEATHER WAS EVEN BORN. And for 4 short years she wants billions of dollars??? Get f-ing real.
I hate this Heather. Even when I saw her on Larry King years ago, pushing her causes, etc., she just didn't give me the impression she was an adoring, wonderful woman. I'm way into now thinking, Heather had an agenda and I'm also thinking money was high on her list. Who better to better to wrap her legs around... oops, I mean, leg... than Paul McCartney.
Probably Elton said it best: The Bitch is Back.
I swear to God... this Iran crap is scaring the hell out of me. I have no clue how much longer we all have here on earth, but if it's up to the head Iranian guy, it's a matter of days. He is absolutely out of his f-ing mind. Granted, the Korean psycho is heavy into war games for maybe, the sheer fun of it; and Bin Laden is in a cave somewhere happily scheming to blow up every American/Israeli on earth; BUT I'm keeping my eye on the Iranian guy. I'm thinking he's the other two all rolled into one. Today, I heard that what he REALLY wants, is to kill EVERYone EVERYwhere AND he can do in six minutes what took Hitler six years. Just what I wanted to hear. Besides, Russia isn't all that upset with Iran, thus between the two of them, we're talking capability and billions of dollars. A pretty potent mix.
Which leads me to think:
1.) tell everyone I know and love goodbye, it was nice knowing you, I don't want to die, but any day now could be my last... and...
2.) forget saving money... I might as well spend every cent I have NOW to buy whatever tickles my fancy, since I won't be around much longer anyway. I will apparently NEVER live long enough to receive monies from my IRA. At least, not without a penalty.
Everyone who knows me well, knows I have a long list of fears. I hate driving in thunderstorms, will not fly during afternoon hours when thunderstorms are brewing, hate heights, have NEVER considered roller coasters safe let alone, fun, am afraid I won't find a bathroom in time and lastly, hate all sorts of air travel from hand gliding to high powered jets. Although, I did once discover a cure for my flying... go first class. Put me in a turbulent sky and bingo. I'm popping Ativan like no tomorrow. But, put me in first class and I'm handling turbulence like a breeze.
Now, however, I have to add Iran to my list of fears and according to the guy on TV, it should be, without a doubt, #1 on the list. What the hell is the world coming to?? Supposedly, in a nutshell, Iran's thinking is: by killing everyone on earth, it will hasten the coming of their Messiah, so killing the entire world is a good thing, which is why suicide is so noble. In addition, Iranians are the ONLY peoples worthy of life. Everyone else has got to be exterminated.
WHAT?? IS THIS A FREAKIN' JOKE?? THIS IS WHAT WE'RE UP AGAINST?? THIS IS A WAY TO LIVE?? Holy S@*#.
Seriously... Iran is so out to get us. Way more than all the other nut jobs. And, according to TV, our President and our government are only into reactionary measures; absolutely not, no way, not even CLOSE to preventative measures. Case in point: there is no reason to even consider not bringing body lotion on a plane when there is absolutely nothing being done about THROROUGHLY checking and rechecking the cargo loads on each plane. But, trust me. As soon as the next plane explodes, only to find that the bomb got by the almost non-existent cargo check point, THEN the government will conclude: uh, duh. Gee, guess we better put some work into the cargo docks, afterall.
Therefore, with that in mind, I feel really, really badly about this, but I better say good bye now, since my days are numbered and I have no clue if I'll ever get a chance to say it later. It was definitely nice knowing you. On the other hand, as my sister told me today... Good news! I now no longer have reason to be afraid of the Bird Flu. Talk about a silver lining.
YEA! IT ARRIVED!! I got of the shower about an hour ago, and I noticed a UPS truck zipping around the neighborhood. Bingo... an alarm went off in my head... THE DSL EQUIPMENT IS HERE! Yippee. Except, I also noticed the truck turned in a completely different direction than my house. Goodbye delivery. But wait... I then looked through the glassed area front door and sure enough. There it was. THE EQUPIMENT!
I opened all the boxes and within minutes I determined: EEKS. Problem City. There is NO way I'll be able to do this by myself. Not because I can't figure out the directions, but rather, I could tell right away the wires weren't long enough. The outlets needed for hook up jacks weren't close enough. The furniture needed to be moved isn't light. Also, the installation disk told me to hook up the Ethernet cable rather than the DSL cable. HUH?? WHY?? What the hell is the difference??
So, just as earlier predicted, I can see that the first of my glitches have occurred. See? This is exactly why it's great to have a savvy kid. I have to call him to find out what to do next about the Ethernet bit. He should be able to point me in the right direction 1-2-3. Which reminds me, by the way, I heard on TV earlier that some teen in Utah is being charged with killing his mother by locking her in the freezer. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? THIS IS ACCEPTABLE?? FREEZING YOUR MOM?? Jesus. Talk about giving a whole new meaning to "I'm freezing to death".
Stay tuned for future glitch announcements.
christ almigthty, melibu
just what the hell
did you do?
what? you don't love jews?
now since when,
is that fresh news?
it's the "liquor"
that made you spew?
sorry melbie,
you're major screwed.
actually,
if i were you...
i'd not ask "hebs"
for your review...
head to church
is what to do
on bended knee...
ask forgiveness from your pew.
why not make it
prayers from two?
just bring dad
along with you.
oh...
if adolf hitler
only knew.
wouldn't he
be proud of you.
As of today, I'm no longer a loser. Actually, as of this coming Saturday, I think. FINALLY... AFTER BEING THE LAST AMERICAN ON EARTH to do so, I've ordered Fast Access Internet Service! YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE For the last 12 years, I've been doing dial up and believe you me, it sucks. BUT... I stuck with it for several reasons, not the least of which was my fear of initially being billed, let's say $25 a month, only to see it jump to something like $182 in almost no time at all.
Kinda like my cable service. THEY lured me into their fold with a fabulous pricing offer, and over a couple year period, next thing you know, I was paying 4x the amount for absolutely no additional service whatsoever. Which is why I've since switched to Direct TV and have never looked back.
ANYway, this morning I bit the bullet and spoke with a very patient BellSouth rep, Ms. Grier and HALLELUJAH I'm on my way! Now, don't get me wrong. I've been around the block a few times, so I'm already prepared for all SORTS of glitches to arise. And, I pretty much told BellSouth that. Sure, sure sure. They told me not to worry. Everything I bundled so as to get cellular discounts, free modem, etc. will fly without a hitch. Statements will reflect exactly what was quoted me on the phone... you know the drill. But I, on the other hand, know the reality. NOTHING WILL GO ACCORDING TO PLAN. I'm accepting this right off the bat. BUT... I will, on the other hand GET HIGH SPEED internet access, so who gives a s#^%. JUMPIN' JOSEPHA RING TONES, BATMAN! I'M OUT OF THE LOSER BOX! About damn time, too!
The only other thing I now look forward to, is resolving all the conflicting biling problems that will come about which, according to my calendar, will occur probably around September 23rd. Stay tuned for the prediciton results!
It's scary... I'm getting old and I know it. I can't believe what I just made myself for dinner. CHICKEN BREASTS!! Never in my entire life did I EVER have a yen for chicken. Were I to come to YOUR house and be served chicken, I'd down it with sheer delight. But for me to make it for mySELF?? Never. I am, always was, and always be a steak and potato kind of gal. At least until 6 months ago, anyway. Which to me, signals my getting old.
Another signal of note, is the fact I no longer leave my A.C. at a cool, comfy 71 degrees. I can easily get by, upping the temp several notches. Were my son still living at home, he'd freak. Summer would most definitely render the thermostat at a constant 68 degrees, with the overhead fan blasting directly on him. No wonder. He's young.
Add all this to the fact I no longer consider 8 o'clock dinner time, and boom. I'm a major blue haired senior citizen. By 6 o'clock my stomach is raring to go. Besides, dining at that hour leaves me plenty of time for after dinner snacking. I just can't believe it. For YEARS I was happy to go out later. Happy to eat later. And happy to stay out later. No more, my friend.
Before my rapid aging process struck with such vengeance, I used to know faces of all the celebs, words to the latest songs, when award shows were on, and who the hottest designers were. Today, I hardly know Brittany Spears from Jessica Simpson. I have no clue what Lindsey Lohan looks like. Actually, I'm impressed I even know their names. Chet Huntley... now, that's more my speed.
What's scary, is that all this happened within a few short years. It's like one minute I'm still young at heart and then POW. The next minute, I'm turning into my parents. If I had to guess, I'd say it took about three short years for me to age a fast 10. What the hell's going on here?
And, let's not forget my getting up 3x a night to use the bathroom. Nor my driving at almost the exact posted speed limit. Nor the ever popular... forgetting what the hell I'm talking about, right in the middle of a sentence! Don't even get me started on the television volume. Suffice it to say, by the time Medicare kicks in, I'll be prepped for it, but good.
Things in my house have a way of mysteriously disappearing. One minute something is in it's place, just where I left it and boom. The next minute, it's gone. Right into thin air. No where to be found. Total mystery as to it's whereabouts.
I long ago gave up fretting whenever these mysteries occurred. Instead, I developed a two fold strategy in dealing with them: 1.) I looked absolutely everywhere for the item. More than once, but never more than three times. Then, I gave up and 2.) announced to my housekeeper, "Here we go again. We have another mystery!" In the past 35 years I've had oh... maybe 5 or 6 housekeepers, let's say. Every one of them came to know exactly what those words meant. Because immediately AFTER my announcement, the very next sentence out of my mouth was, "My (so and so) is gone, so if you find it, YOU GET A PRIZE! YIPPEE! It worked like a charm 35 years ago. It works like a charm to this day. I lose something. I announce the latest mystery. I promise a prize when it's found. And Bingo! The next thing you know, I'm off to the store, selecting a reward. End of mystery. It's a fabulous method for retrieving absolutely anything that suddenly develops legs and walks away.
Hence, I've discovered that incentives/briberies/prizes are good things. Kind of like a Win/Win Situation for all parties involved. Which is where you come in. I NEED YOUR HELP. I'LL GIVE YOU A PRIZE. A REALLY GOOD ONE, TOO!
I've decided I'd like my Blog to become famous. I also decided there is no way I can do it alone. Enter: YOU! I'm thinking that, if every person I know, reads my blog and then sends the link to every person THEY know, sooner or later, the Blog will be read by SOMEone who can make me famous! Ex: Your cousin Clive knows Margery, the lady down the street, who's sister now works for Rosanna, who once answered the phones at DoubleDay when Jackie Kennedy was an editor, and who also had an illicit affair with Myron, the Go-To guy at the Village Voice. You send Myron my blog link, he then reads it and NEXT THING WE KNOW, HE MAKES ME FAMOUS!! Talk about thrilling!! And, more importantly, talk about WHAT A GREAT PRIZE YOU'LL GET!! A REALLY STUPENDOUS ONE! I promise!!
So... here's my request/plea to you, my reader. Please send the link to my Blog... Blog Heaven... to everyone you ever met; and please tell them to send it to everyone THEY ever met. Then.... let's just sit back and see exactly how long it takes to make me famous! And... let's see exactly WHICH ONE of my friends will be responsible for turning me into one hell of a famous woman! Easy enough? You bet it is... so RIGHT NOW... drag/copy the link into new email and send it off to absolutely EVERYONE you know.
May the best my best PR Agent win! And above all, thanks for making me famous!
P.S. Note the envelope icon at the end of each post. It allows you to email that specific post. Or... You can instead, send the link I mentioned above, which will include all posts. GOOD LUCK. I'm off to check out the cost of a new Rolls-Royce Motor Car.
Supposedly, when my sister was a very little girl, our housekeeper Ada, used to tell my mother that Claudia was going to grow up and marry the other big name baby of the times... Prince Charles. So much for Ada's predictions; turns out Claudia married Barry while Charles married Diana. So I find it ironic that in late August of each year, when Claudia celebrates her wedding anniversary, Charles commerates Diana's death.
As it happens, I'm a sort of pseudo expert on the British Monarchy, dating from Queen Victoria to Queen Elizabeth II. Therefore, I'm pretty much hooked into a LOT of behind the scenes biographical info on each of the monarchy big shots, beginning in 1850. So hooked in fact, that once I even taught a class at the local Junior College about them. I was way too young in 1953 to watch the first ever televised British world wide event of the crowning of the present Queen. But I was WAY prepared for the next one... the marriage of Charles and Diana. In fact, thanks to them I bought my first VCR. I didn't want to miss a single second of broadcasting and to this day, I have all my monarchy tapes safely stored in case I ever have a great-granddaughter. She'll easily be able to get an A+ for including in her report a fabulous historical video. Of course it will be of no use by then, since everthing will be on DVD only, rendering VHS obsolete. But, whatever.
In the meantime, on the Diana vs. Charles deal, I definitely come down on the side of Diana. Charles is, simply put, a major schmuck. He had a remarkable opportunity to take this smitten, stunning, willing and most importantly, virginal young lady and offer to her security, devotion, love, commitment and adoration. Diana was clearly putty in his hands; his wish was her command.
Unfortunately, his wish was: to keep shagging Camilla. Thereby infusing Diana with insecurity, marital misery, complete mistrust and emotional instablility. How DARE Charles do this!! Off with his head!! (yeah, and that one, too!) His chosen Princess walked down the aisle with such promise and beauty and boom! The next thing you know, the Prince is still carrying on with (spare me) ... Camilla. Possibly the most unattractive woman I've ever seen. Is he NUTS?? BLIND? A TOTAL schmuck?? Apparently, yes. Okay... so Charles deeply loved Camilla. I get it. Then, why not this thought? UH... DON'T MARRY DIANA. That's a toughie to figure out?? Apparently, yes. Well, I too have a wish. I wish Diana posthumously takes revenge. I wish also (God forgive me) that Diana is able to take it in a really potent way; one that will absolutely floor, forever affect and viciously attack Charles and Camilla. This wish is a possiblity? Apparently no. On the other hand... I've got a really deep seeded revenge problem? Apparently yes.
So I was in the shower the other night and I had a recurring thought. What if something, God forbid, happened to me and I could no longer use my right hand? Therefore, how would I bathe myself, comb my hair or brush my teeth? Not to mention how I'd ever put on a bra. Therefore, I was thinking that the Medical Community should promote LEFT RIGHT DAY. Maybe once a month, let's say. That way, everyone, on that specified day, would try practicing all their grooming, dialing phones, whatever, using their opposite hand! Now wait... it's not altogether a bad idea when you really think about it. After lots of practice, I'll bet we'll become WAY more adept in living were we to ever to lose use of our predominant hand.
Besides, look at how much we'll save the insurance companies, once they realize we won't need visiting nurses as often. And, imagine how thrilled our kids will be, knowing they won't have to come over as much to reluctantly take over a lot of the chores we'll have listed for them. (this alone, should make our kids glow) Actually, now that I think about it, once we give the bank our new scribbled signatures, forging scammed checks from senior citizens will almost become impossible. What a deal!
I seem to do a lot of thinking when I'm the shower. Some sing. I develop ideas. Like the one I've often touted to friends whereby I'd like send a script to Woody Allen. I decided he could make a hilarious movie out of the idea that: there's a dying old man in his sick bed. Enter: family members. In order to appease all of the old guy's disappointments, the family members come over to his bed and one by one, they whisper in his ear how they (fictitiously) tell him not to worry. Everyone will be fine once he's gone. The drab, boring, single daughter tells the man how she has found the love of her life and is soon to be married to a wonderful Wall Street banker. The doofy, lazy son tells him how he's been accepted to the Wharton School of Finance, committed to earning a prestigious degree. Even the fat, introverted daughter of Cousin Mabel tells the ole codger Guess what? She's had been approached by a high fashion modeling agency who wants to offer a gastro by-pass, lose over 100lbs., document her metamorphosis, after which they'll put her on a Parisian runway! The scenarios can go on and on. THEN... LO AND BEHOLD... good news... the dying old man makes a MIRACULOUS recovery! He won't die after all!! Uh... that's the good news for Gramps. It's WAY bad news for the family since they now have to actually ACCOMPLISH all they said they would. How all that comes about, could be the makings of a simply rip roaring funny movie. Which is why I need Woody Allen to direct this. I'd die myself, were my incredibly funny movie fall into the hands of some loser movie producer who screws up the whole thing.
Apparently taking a shower brings out the best of my creative ideas. They also bring out my many fears of possible medical mishaps. Oh well.
P.S./WARNING: If ever I find out that my ideas come to fruition in any way whereby I am not reimbursed/credited as sole creator, you WILL be prosecuted. And, hopefully fined.
See this guy? He's given me the greatest chuckle since I don't know when. The only other person I can think of who would love it as much as I, is my Mother and unfortunately, she isn't alive to view him. She would have gotten such a kick out this guy... touting his trout and uh... his trout. This of course is why the internet is so great. One minute you're smiling for a friend and a camera and boom. The next minute you're around the entire world three times, in everyone's mailbox. So... there's a few questions I'm curious about:
1. Did the friend taking this picture COMPLETELY miss out on the lower trout bit?
2. Did the guy in the pict not even KNOW he's hanging out in fresh air?
3. Did the person developing the film upload the pict to the internet or...
4. Did the person taking the picture do this as a mere favor to his fishing buddy?
5. Does the guy even KNOW he's been traveling the net into a zillion mailboxes? And...
6. Does this guy's relatives know his family jewels are so exposed?
Oh... and, as for the jewels themselves... they do seem pretty gem like, don't you think? Not bad, for being someone's Grandfather. So much for fish stories. I just pray this fisherman never sees his picture on this blog. Forget about fish bait... I could become JAIL bait! EEEKS
When my son was born, I made my decision right then and there, that I would attend to him "on demand". I would feed him whenever he wanted, let him sleep as long as he wanted and pick him up whenever he wanted. For instance... to me, waking a sleeping baby borders on abuse. If the baby were REALLY finished sleeping, then the baby would be up! If a baby is crying, who in their right mind would just let the baby cry for fear of spoiling it?? Give me a break... IT'S A BABY. Hold it. Help it. Coddle it. Love it.
I'm the type who almost point daggers at those mothers who are into "training" their infants. Are they kidding?? Training 3 month olds?? That's crazy. "Sorry my sweet baby... I know you're hungry and crying but you've still got another hour and a half before I'll give you your next bottle, so uh... deal with it!" Geez... you've GOT to be kidding.
Therefore, my baby's wish was basically my command. For which I have to thank him. I decided way back then that if "on demand" was good enough for my baby, then by all means, it was good enough for me, too. Thus, to this day, I nap if I'm tired. I eat if I'm hungry. I forget about chores if I'm not in the right mindset. And, best of all, I hire help if I don't feel like doing it myself. When you get right down to it, pampering my baby was my delight; now that my baby is grown, pampering MYSELF has become my delight.
Ironically however, I am far from a demanding woman. Go figure.
Okay. That does it. When Nutri-System starts running it's TV ads (over and over, no less) showing us how the lady is back into a size 2, it's time to give up dieting forEVER. Who the F*#% do they think they are?? How DARE they show us women who have succeeded getting back into their size 4 or (gasp) 2!! If they think I'll EVER select Nutri-System after seeing who they're targeting, they're WAY off base. My rule of thumb: anyone following a diet to wear these sizes in just a mere few weeks is no one who's recommendations I'LL ever follow. On the other hand, there IS no weight loss program I'm interested in following, other than of course, my already proven high carb diet. It seems to work like a charm in helping to maintain my current personally accepted, well established chubbiness. To quote the lady in on TV, "any diet that lets you eat chocolate everyday, that's the diet for me!" Bingo. I'm sticking to high carbs.
Back then, I could hold him.
Now, he could hold me.
Back then, I bent down.
Now, I look up.
Back then, I would sing to him.
Now, I ask him who's singing.
Back then, I smiled as he grew older.
Now, I wished he were young.
Back then, I knew what was best.
Now... uh... I still do.
See that tag line below my Blog Title?? Stare at it. Glory in it. Bow to it. It took me about two and half weeks to create it.
I swear... the template for this site is about to drive me bonkers. Bear in mind, I'm sort of adept at HTML editing and coding. (the language used to create all web pages) I taught myself how to create a web site several years ago. It's mildly complicated. Or, at least it used to be. Nowadays, you can easily download web editing software and develop your own web page. Bingo. You're on your way.
Therefore, I'm not a complete dummy. Well, not until I came across this blogging template bit. It should have taken three minutes, tops, to have added those few words. No such luck. And, now that I finally DID figure it out, half the time the wording comes up correctly. Half the time it doesn't. Bottom line: sometimes you'll see it. Sometimes you won't.
Uh-oh. Just yesterday I was raving about Francine and her ability to spot a great blog when she sees one. Next thing I know, Wilma sends me an email telling me how thrilled she is that she rechecked my blog for updates. And boy, what glowing things she had to say! My God... who KNEW I was beginning to gather fans? Okay, okay. I know. They're merely being nice, but still, it's fun hearing from them. (do two kind people REALLY form a fan base??) Regardless, to prove what a sagacious woman Wilma is (as opposed to what a simply talented writer I am) I'm including the following quote: "What a hoot! I think you should take up comedy writing...try a script for a sitcom." CAN YOU IMAGINE?? If ever I were to see credits on Curb Your Enthusiasm with MY name listed, I'd have little time to celebrate. I'd fall over dead from a thrilling heart attack way before I could enjoy the moment. Let alone, before any check came rolling in. So much for easy come, easy go. By the way, see Wilma's picture? She's wearing the scarf I made for her. (yet another of my many talents, she says with humility)
In the meantime, you can well imagine how deeply I gasped when I heard that Ken Lay went to the great beyond today. Now, I'm not completely heartless, thus I do feel very sad for the loss his family must be feeling. On the other hand, talk about having to choose the lesser of two evils. Way to avoid 45 years in prison, if I do say so myself. And trust me... he deserved every day of the slammer sentence. Proving once again... timing is everything.
Being a favorite of mine has both it's ups and downs. The good news is: I really mean it when I label something/someone my favorite. The bad news is: I've got ZILLIONS of favorites, all in the same catagory, too. Thus, being my All Time Number One Favorite is an almost unattainable position. Unless you're Elton John. While I used to place him right up there with Tina Turner and Billy Joel, Elton easily moved to the top slot via some of his songs from the 90's and his incredible live performances. Yes, Tina and Billy took me to heaven during their concerts, but Elton had the best ride. Even my three favorite foods (doughnuts, french fries and Florida lobster tails) have no clear cut winner... they are all equally my favorites.
Which brings me to a favorite friend. As with other categories, I've indeed got a zillion favorite friends, all of whom I love and adore. I could never choose the All Time Number One. There are simply too many. On the other hand, today, Francine just increased her chances for a major postition of upward mobility on the list of Lists. She not only checks my blog, but also sent me an eCard complimenting me on it, telling me she actually got a kick of the Star Jones entry. (I love astute people!) On top of that, Francine is absolutely adorable and is wonderful to look at, speak to, and be with. She's definitely amongst my more brainy friends, and admittably, I do love intellect. I also love bright smiles, quick wit and fine taste. Francine has all of that. Which is why I'm bestowing upon Francine my FIRST EVER FRIEND TO BE SPECIFICALLY NOTED IN A BLOG prize. Not to mention, first ever to take over my picture spotlight. Hooray for Francine... I BEARly know what to say.
Well, that didn't take long, I see. I turned on The View today (a mere 48 hours after Star made her fatal announcement) and bingo. A brand new, pretty and slim, black woman is sitting where Star Jones used to be. I, of course, have no idea who this new ingenue is, but it matters not. What does matter to me is how interested I am in Star Jones' stupidity to piss off Barbara Walters. Geez, even I know that Barbara is a power house, thus has the power to either make you or break you. What could Star have been thinking? That she'd be able to actually upstage Barbara in the power department? Jesus... Get real. I love this gossip garbage anyway, so reliving the demise of Star Jones is right up my alley. I've since watched every single show possible, with any sort of segment rehashing the big event. Which, I might add, was a mere coincidence that I should have seen the cat fight play out in real time, the other morning.
On this entire issue, I've decided to come down on the side of Barbara Walters. I'm thinking that Star Jones is way too full of herself, supposedly has way too perfect a marriage to maybe a reformed gay guy (is that even possible?), has lost 14 million pounds by merely eatting right (yeah, sure) and got a multimillion dollar wedding for an out of pocket cost of about $350. This lady is definitely outta control. Barbara on the other hand is all about propriety and dignity. I like that. I like even more that she is able to wield her power in such a low key, level headed way while simultaneously putting major screws to the Heavenly Diva. Besides, I'm way into power, fame and influence. Of which I'm sorry to say, I have none. Damnit.
It's kind of crazy... last weekend I was Blog intensive. This weekend, I'm cooling on the idea a bit. Perhaps though, I'm merely finding a good balance between the two. Or maybe it's just that I've got 283 things on my list of Things To Do. I've completed several, but had to take a time out a while ago so I could get lost in some Bette Davis movie that was fabulous. So much for attention span.
In the meantime, I'm happy to report I met God's Computer Genius yesterday. I was in fear of my computer about to come crashing down on me thus I called a back-up guru. My first choice was out of town. I had zillions of projects for which I needed the computer, thus crashing was the last thing I wanted. Enter: Mitch. My God, this guy took me to technological heights I never thought possible. Talk about being wowed. He was able to resolve about 12 big issues in about one and a half hours. And, to do so, he went places inside the workings of the hard drive I never knew possible. Let alone had ever seen before. He definitely held my interest. And, left with my thinking that his wife is one lucky woman. If he could work such genius-like techniques on a computer's internal drive, God only knows what... uh... oh, never mind. Suffice it to say, I'm up and running.
So, here it is, the weekend... absolutely stunning outside. For anyone interested, my second toe is now regal purple. I almost thought of uploading a pict of it, but why dwell on it. Steve Martin's "Father of the Bride" is on TV and I was thinking about how much I miss when my son was a baby and I could hold him and kiss him 24 hours a day. A strange thought for a mother who couldn't WAIT for him to spend summers at sleep away camp, type his own high school reports, dependably wake up to an alarm clock or turn 16 so he could get a driver's license and become his own chauffeur. Infant/toddler stages were, for me, synonymous with slave driver/camp counselor. I much preferred the teen years which yes, I know, are usually the years from hell. As it happened though, I loved having a teen that could keep me abreast as to what was in, who was cool or how I could do things in a better way. I particuarly loved laughing with him while listening to Howard Stern, hoping I wasn't screwing up his mind for the rest of his life.
On the other hand, his growing up meant I could no longer bathe him in hugs and kisses. Damnit. To this day, spending time with my son is still my alltime favorite thing to do. Too bad he'd probably prefer hanging with a woman his own age. But who can blame him? She's wearing a G-string and I'm pondering Depends.
I have a foot fetish, I suppose. I'm particular about shoes. But I'm way more particular about my feet. I like them to be well groomed. (I also like any man I may bed, to have his feet well groomed as well, but that's a whole different story) As it happens, I''m now sitting here at the computer with the bottom of my foot resting on a bag of frozen broccoli. The top of my foot is covered with a bag of frozen corn. Don't ask.
Last week, when getting ready to head to the airport, I loaded my suitcase into the car. However, not before the entire packed case landed across my entire right foot, with the metal wheel bar making the greatest impact. Uh... it hurt like hell, which meant of course, I cursed like hell. Anyway, within about 42 seconds my foot became mountain-like with swelling and turned my toes black and blue. I spent about 3 hours with a veggie ice packs on it, much like I'm doing now. Which reminds me... after three hours of staring at the thawing veggies, I decided to open them up and what else? Began eatting some!
Why am retelling this event? Because today, I was headed out to fun with my friends; I walked out the door and WHAM! The REALLY HEAVY old fashioned iron that sits on my wooden ironing board/patio table fell right smack onto my foot! AGAIN. My otherwise perfectly fine right foot is now once again killing me. And the fading black and blue toes? Uh... they're now darker than ever. Moral of the story? Diamond encrusted flip flops are not such a bad idea afterall.
Madonna lives in a Material World. I apparently live in a Mechanically-Charged High Tech World. I've just spent 6 unconsectutive hours in the past 24, getting my Norton Virus software downloaded and installed. Huh? 6 hours?? The first time I tried installing the program, t'was a no go. The first time I tried running it, I was told I needed 9 new updates. (another 45 mins., I might add) Then, after I WAS up, running and completely protected, my provider's screen alerted me that my firewall was not functioning.
Bottom line? I have now have a whole new vocabulary which I never even KNEW to teach my son when he was a child. Examples: software, downloading, ISP, DSL, and of course, blogging. Not to mention: the Internet, itself. On the other hand, when my son was but about 14, he not only KNEW these vocabulary words, but was WAY ahead of me in putting them to actual use.
Days spent like this remind me of last week, when I spent hours seeking flight schedules, pressing phone buttons, chatting free with folks in India, and logging on, to print out boarding passes. Which probably totaled yet ANOTHER 6 hours of living in my High Tech World. No WONDER I have no time to actually get a job.
Okee Dokee... here I go. One more feature in this Techie World and I'm a goner. But... I'm willing to try. Apparently blogging is a big deal nowadays, so if I'm to remain two steps ahead of the crowd, I need a blog site. Bingo. This is it! Biggest dilema right now? Whether or not to go back to sleep.
I'm getting major sick of hearing George W. address the Iraqi issue. He's like a blubbering broken record, using the same tired talking points over and over. Additionally, the points themselves are so damn lame, it's embarrassing. As if that's not enough, he's addressing the issues with the worst grammatical usage I've ever seen from ... uh... a supposed statesman. On THAT count, I could easily be President. Granted, being "major sick" is not at all grammatically correct. But on the other hand ... I've yet to be elected to the highest office in the land.
