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.

SUN VS SON

I'm actually kinda excited right now. I FINALLY have window treatments right smack in front of my computer desk so that the GLARING afternoon sunlight is no longer blinding me and keeping me from seeing the darn monitor. I so HATED that last summer. During the winter, I basically don't have a problem. But, come Spring and Summer, the sun sort of shifts over and boom! It comes right smack into the center of my huge window and nothing short of infra ray night goggles can possibly help to deflect it.

Enter: multi-million dollar window treatment. Of course, when my kid was home this past weekend, his solution was to run out to WalMart Super Center and buy shades for like $50. SO NOT WHAT THESE COST. Which is why he thought I was outta my mind. It was at that point I decided to not even tell him what I shelled out for this latest pleasure. As if it was any of his business, anyway.

In the meantime, I placed my custom order about three weeks ago and ever since then, I've been DYING to have it finally installed. The sun was driving me CRAZY. Yippee.. today Rudy came, Rudy installed, and Rudy collected the monies. ONE SLIGHT PROBLEM. Would you believe that for the past 5 days it's been RAINY, COMPLETELY MISTY AND TOTALLY GREY OUTSIDE! In fact, I can't even reMEMber what real sunlight looks like. And... it's supposed to stay this way for yet another two days!! Maybe three!!

Which of course means... who the hell even NEEDED these window treatments in the first place?? More importantly, I can't even test them, to be sure they're actually going to do the job they were meant to do. The sun is like NO WHERE TO BE FOUND. Naturally, beFORE I had this deal installed, there was the brightest sunlight ever, streaming into the room constantly. NOW... not a single ray in sight. Go figure.

But... trust me... in just a few days from now, I'll be on top of the world. The sun will be glaring right in once again and bingo. I'll be able to work at the computer, actually SEEING the monitor for a change. What a life. On the other hand... now, I just have to think about the other 75 windows in the house and decide what, if anything, I'll do about treating those. Then, my kid would REALLY go nuts. If he thinks I spent a pretty penny on this window, he'd so think I lost my mind on what the cost of all the others would be.

But... there IS a silver lining, I think. Get this... just a few minutes ago, the window company called and said... OH YEAH. WE FORGOT TO GIVE YOU YOUR REBATE INFO. Rebate?? Really?? Who knew?? And.. to top that off... I just saw my shades being advertised on TV! Sitting down? They said the rebates are like from $300-$500!! OMG... Rain or no rain... the sun is shining down upon me after all! Yippee.

CUSTOM TAILORING

I ALWAYS said that autumn is my all time favorite season. And actually, it is. But, I kinda gotta tell you ... I'm really beginning to get heavy into Spring, as well. Not because the temps are absolutely delightful. Although they are. And not because the new blooms are almost breath taking. Although they are. And, not because I'm thrilled to no end, to put away the heavy leather winter coat. Although I am. I am actually getting into Spring because I can FINALLY, once again, wear shorter skirts, comfy flats, and yippee... no knee high socks. It's like major liberation going on here. Good bye heavy winter outer wear... hello care free, easy styling once again. I decided to celebrate this phenomenon by purchasing two new Spring and/or Summer skirts a couple of weeks ago. Also, I scouted out several of my other skirts hiding in my closet, as well. The two new ones were basically a bit TOO short for an old lady, so I had to completely reconstruct them, so I could lengthen each of them from the quadruple stictched waistband; while on other skirts, I had to cut several inches from the waistband to shorten them. I must admit... I'm pretty happy with the tailoring results. In fact, I reconstructed 5 in all and you can be SURE I'm going to be sporting them all over town pretty soon. In fact, they will definitely become my favorite uniforms for the next two seasons.

I love when I can reconstruct my clothing successfully. It's a talent that definitely falls into the category of: NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION. I have the flattest ass in history, thus practically every blouse, skirt, slacks, etc. have always needed tapering in the back. Which is sort of a pain in the neck, given my tummy is nothing to write home about. Hence, I always need room in the front of the garment, and way less fabric in the back of the garment. You have no idea how often I'm addressing this tailoring glitch.

On the other hand, I have it all pretty much down pat by now. I should. I've been doing it for 30 years already. The only items that throw me for a loop are the winter coats and the like. THOSE are like crazy to reconstruct, thus if the sleeves are too long or the back a smidgen too fitted, then I sort of have to live with it. Trust me... I have a pretty good grasp on exactly how far my abilities can carry me. The good news is however... winter is OVER. Bingo... winter challenges are behind me for about the next 7 months.

Besides... guess what? Just yesterday my gardener showed up for the first time since November to mow the lawn! Now you KNOW Spring is here when he begins that deal. Of course, I have fork over money for that pleasure... but no worries. Look at all the money I saved by doing my OWN tailoring! It's like part of my own personal economic plan. Man, would my mother be proud of me.

XIE XIE

See those words in the title? Know what they mean? Well, I DO! Get this... it's Chinese for "thank you". Know how I know? Check out the receipt here, the one in the picture. Uh... it's my actual bill from my last Chinese dinner. I just couldn't get over this bill. Wanna know why?

Because, get this... if ever I wanted to eat this meal again, I'D HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO F-ING IDEA WHAT I ORDERED! No wonder.. it's all written in Chinese!! Now, I have to tell you... I've eaten Chinese food... and loved every bite, I might add... for as long as I can remember. But, what I CAN'T remember is ever, ever having my bill handed to me, WRITTEN IN THE ACTUAL CHINESE LANGUAGE!! It like blew me away! I felt as if, rather having driven a mere 18 minutes to my favorite Chinese restaurant, I instead, must have taken a slow boat to China itself.

Granted, I don't know why I was so intrigued with this receipt, but as you can see, I was. After all, who ELSE would have held onto it? In fact, I was SO intrigued, I had the waitress actually write THANK YOU on it, as well. Talk about begging for appreciation. I think I just loved 1.) the fact that according to the bill, I have absolutely no clue what I ordered and 2.) the fact that the drawings are so cool. I'm totally enamored with this deal.

Oh yeah... I must say however... as much as I love this receipt, you have no ideal how much I loved MY MEAL! It was simply delicious. Wait... it's coming back to me now, I think. The first word/picture on this must be the 1 piece of Egg Foo Yong that I ordered as an appetizer. Man was THAT ever up my alley. The second word/picture must be the shrimp, veggies and pork fried rice I ate. Trust me... that too, was scrumptious. In fact, I was so excited to have even BEEN at this restaurant in the first place.

For some reason... from the moment I made plans to have dinner there, to the moment I walked in... my mouth had been watering just dreaming of the meal. Apparently I hadn't eaten there in quite some time and boy! Was I ever ready to down the tasty delights! The fact that I enjoyed a fabulous meal was basically the cake. To have had my order written in actually Chinese? Well, that was simply the best icing on the cake.

And, by the way... speaking of icing... why is that Chinese restaurants have such crappy desserts, anyway? Huh? Don't they believe in chocolate? Which now that I think about it... ARE there any overweight Chinese?? Wait... Mao Tse-Tung, was kinda chubby, wasn't he? Okay... in that case, what did HE eat for dessert? Whatever it was, I want the same!

ADDRESS UNKNOWN

... Except in my case, it's pretty much known to every organization on the planet. How else could I keep getting all these hordes of return address labels that arrive in my mailbox weekly? I am so telling you... were I send out mail everyday for the rest of my life, I'd never use up all the labels I've collected. It's crazy.

When first I moved here, I only had address labels from my OLD address. Granted, that was a kind of bummer. But boom! Within three months of living here, all of a sudden, I was no longer an unknown address. Labels with my NEW address were apparently being feverishly printed so that 1.) no one could ever possibly worry about where I now lived and 2.) I could now begin a brand spanking new label collection, the likes of which you've never seen. You like initials on your return stickers? You like Santa, instead? How about being patriotic and going with the American flag? Better yet... Spring begins tomorrow... how about labels with Spring flowers all over them? Man, am I ever loaded.

How do I even get these, in the first place? Oh yeah... on basically all of the label sheets there are ALSO a bunch of gift stickers. I guess they must think I hand out a lot of presents or something. Or maybe they just WANT me to hand out a lot of presents. Naturally, the gift labels, I toss immediately. There is no way I'm giving a gift with what often times are dorky looking stickers. Besides, aren't stickers pretty much for KIDDIES?

Well, unless you send out a lot of mail. And, given I'm the last woman in America to not pay my bills online, I actually DO, send out a lot of mail. In which case, I certainly appreciate the personalized mailing labels. BUT WHOA.... zillions of them? Maybe I better find the OPT OUT NUMBER so I can call these folks and tell them: THANKS. REALLY. BUT... ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, ALREADY.

Listen, I love personalization as much as the next person. But, do I need this MUCH? If ever I send out the amount of mail that would be needed to use up all these freebie labels, I'll be in the poor house lickety split. Why?? Because I'd go into hock immediately... given the huge cost of stamps I'd ALSO have to adhere to each envelope!! In fact, forget the labels altogether. Better these people should send me postal stamps. Now THERE'S a money saving idea I could learn to love.

THE TONY GOES TO...

Oh man. Was I ever in my glory last tonight. I saw the all time most hilarious show ever. I saw Will Ferrell in his Broadway show, AMERICA, YOU'RE WELCOME, filmed by HBO. Am so telling you... WATCH IT! You will roll right off your chair. Will did an AMAZING job in portraying George W., who as you know is the bane of my existence. It's a one man show and you will thank me profusely for recommending it.

I can't even begin to tell you which was my favorite part. Well, actually, I can, now that I think about it. It was Will's PRIVATE PART. As in: yessirree. THAT private part. Very impressive, too, I might add. Uh... thanks Will for including it! Loved it! Were I a major scumbag, I'd say that shot alone, was worth the viewing of the show. But, of course I'm not. And further, there is WAY too many other segments of Will's performance that will knock your socks off. Although, I must admit... that scene definitely was an eye catcher.

I also loved Condi's dance with Will. Who knew Condi was the sexiest broad you ever laid eyes your upon?? Trust me... she was HOT. Additionally, I got a major kick out of the CIA agent, or whoever he was, who, as the show progressed, kicked up HIS dancing feet more and more. Oh yeah... you will die when you see the audience participation part. FUNNIEST EVER! The entire show was stupendous.

Apparently I've seen Will a lot. Naturally, beginning with SNL, where my favorite skit was always the cheerleader character. UH HUH. UH HUH. UH HUH, UH HUH, UH HUH. My son and I have a barrel of laughs every time we repeat that phrase. Anyway, I've also seen several films in which Will Ferrell has starred. I loved the ice skating one. I loved the going back to college one, which wait a minute... he was running naked in that one, too. Whoa. I'm beginning to see way more of Will than I think I ever needed to. On the other hand, Will.... KEEP THOSE PHOTO OPS COMING. I didn't finish watching the Nascar driver movie he made a few years back, but even that too, had a couple of belly laughs for me.

On the other hand.... NONE of his performances were on the level of tonight's. It was really remarkable. I can't tell you enough, how much I detest George Bush, and if ever there was a chance to see him ridiculed, and portrayed as the intellectual A Hole is he, tonight was my chance. And BOY, does Will have Georgie down pat! Simply amazing!

Thus, remember my words from tonight, come June. You SO could be hearing: And the Tony Award goes to... WILL FERRELL. Well deserved too, if you ask me.

OCTAGONS

Is this lady CRAZY?? I swear to God... I'm as happy as the next person to appreciate help for those who can't conceive children via traditional methods... but... TO ADD 8 MORE TO A FAMILY OF ALREADY SIX OTHERS?? What the hell is this lady THINKING?

She should have spoken to me first, believe you me. I'd have set her straight right off the bat. Trust me... having three kids in one home was PLENTY for me! It's HARD raising children. It's PRICEY raising children. And, it's EXHAUSTING raising children. Not to mention the possibility of being driven, at any given moment in time, clear out of your ever F-ing mind. Granted, having kiddies in your life is a major blessing, but whoa. Give me a break here. To ME, starting out with six little ones is like running a 24/7 mini maternity ward. Add eight more to the mix... we're now talking PSYCHO WARD. So not my style.

Just moments ago I read that the first 6 children are feeling... uh... a bit sad. Oh yeah... and angry, too. Gee. What a surprise. And trust me... they're going to be feeling a lot worse, once this new brood arrives home. HUH? WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? WHY SO MANY?? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, MOMMIE DEAREST? Better yet, WHERE WILL WE PUT THEM?? Did Octo Matriarch not even take into consideration the welfare of the first grouping?? Man... I so hate what she's done, here.

Which is why my best suggestion to her is: QUICK! Go build an octagonal house for your family of 14. YOU'RE GOING TO NEED EVER BIT OF THIS PERFECT LAYOUT, believe me. Well, according to the Linda School of Architecture, that is. Two kids in a room... one room for the Octo-Nut herself, and another room for the one other person she'll DEFinitely need, just to maintain any sense of sanity they might possibly find. Oh yeah... my prediction for the sanity level in this house?? Oh, I'd say... easily... about 4 minutes every 4th day. Maybe. How long you think it'll take to forget about octagons and starting thinking octoguns?

I remember well, when I was heading up a family. I always felt I never particularly wanted to be baby poor. Hence my one pregnancy. Well, I see Octo Nut could care less about this particular item. MONEY?? WHO NEEDS THAT?? DOESN'T THE LORD ALWAYS PROMISE TO PROVIDE? AND, IF NOT, THEN SURELY THE GOVERNMENT WILL. RIGHT??

Oh man.. this family is like off the charts, if you ask me. Anyway, I also always wanted to be sure I'd never have to spread myself too thin, so as to not be available for each kid's problems, joys, hassles, etc. Apparently, Octo couldn't care less about this litle facet, either. Man... I can't wait til all the play dates start kicking in. YIPPEE EVERYONE... TODAY'S IT'S ONLY GOING TO BE LUNCH FOR 35!

So, given the laundry loads, the food bills, the clothing needs, the carpooling schedules, the homework help, the medical problems, the quality times, the tight living quarters, the nurturing sessions, etc. etc. etc. two things come to mind for me. 1.) This lady is NEVER going to find a significant other. Who would even sign up for such a position? and 2.) This lady is COMPLETELY OUT OF HER OCTO-FRIGGIN' MIND.

Unless she's way ahead of the game and is actually way foxier than we all think. As in: she's planning on actually raising a TEAM. As in: 11 players for football and 6 for volleyball; with one as a substitute player and/or cheerleader. In THIS case, then maybe she IS onto something. Can you imagine?? Talk about the last laugh being on US! We, who of course, will have to ante up big bucks to go watch them all play.

CHANGES

I can't believe that a week ago, I was sporting a blizzard around here. TODAY... get this... I turned on my air conditioner! Whoa... talk about a fast turnaround. Am so telling you. It was HOT. Oh yeah... Barbara keeps telling me I'm not allowed to complain, given hot was when I lived in South Florida! As in: 100 degrees, instead of today's 80. Naturally, high on my list of reasons for even LEAVING Florida in the first place, was the friggin' heat. You've simply got to be either completely outta your mind to call that sort of sauna home sweet home. Or... be 22 years old and live in string bikini's on South Beach your entire life. Anyway, that was change ONE for the day. Change TWO was the fact that today, my friend, Elliot, FINALLY GOT A HAIRCUT! AND HAD HIS BEARD SHAVED OFF, TOO! Man... what a total improvement, if ever there was one. You just wouldn't believe it. You know how people go on hunger strikes to protest one thing or another?? Well, I'd almost have to imagine that maybe Elliot was staging his own sort of protest, given this was the first time he had his hair and beard cut since Linda passed away. Uh... last September, I might add. While indeed, living with the ache of her loss is great, the hair bit was becoming even greater. Even the judges, before whom he practices law, were beginning to tell him.. ENOUGH ALREADY! Not to mention his kids, Lauren and Shawn. I love the way I got the news, too. I got this one worded text message from Lauren today and BOOM. I knew immediately the deed had been done. The message simply said HELLO. Of course, for Lauren, this is like a long winded paragraph, but whatever. It was GREAT getting the news.

As for change THREE... Yuck. DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME! Oh man, how I hate this man made disaster. And... A MONTH EARLY no less! Give me a break. Who the heck NEEDS daylight until 9 p.m., anyway? Besides, I can't believe I have to take my bedtime shower when the sun's still out. What a freak show this is, if you ask me. What if I wanted to get nice and sexy and turn the lights way down low? Talk about killing a mood right off the bat.

Frankly, I never got the whole thinking behind daylight savings, in the first place. To my way of thinking... all those imagining they'll save energy at night by having the extra sunlight, are living a pipe dream. After all, they will only have to use that very same energy in the mornings instead; using it so they can actually see what color socks they're REALLY selecting. WHAT? BLACK AND BROWN DON'T MATCH?? Anyway, I think it's nuts. Whatever.

Oh yeah... if you REALLY want to talk change... wanna address the stock market? Now THAT's change I could rant and rave about forever. Lucky for you, I shan't.

BLIZZARD!!

And, no. I don't mean the kind that comes from Dairy Queen, either. Although, I must admit, I'd be mighty happy to taste one. Rather, what I DO mean is... blizzard... THE SNOWY KIND! As in: EEEKS... THERE'S A BLIZZARD OUTSIDE TODAY!

Oh man, you have no idea. Sunday I had snow fall for over 9 hours STRAIGHT! It was sooo freaky. At first, I have to say... it was fun! Watching the beautiful flakes fall was amazing. I had never SEEN such big flakes, and it was coming down FAST. Okay... so that was the first hour. By the third hour, I was getting stunning amounts of accumulation and had to run for my camera to document this crazy ass event. But... by the sixth hour???????? Are you f-ing KIDDING me???? Wow. It was totally nuts. And, the wind was blowing hard. And the ground was getting like way beyond ankle deep in snow. And, I of course, was beginning to think: Geez. Maybe I have to eat everything in sight as I process what the hell is going on all around me.

Now, bear in mind, I had been housebound two days prior to this weather event. As it happens, it had first rained CONTINUOUSLY for two days straight. Which was kinda okay, actually. I had company, so it was way bearable. Which reminds me... remember the story of Facebook, my high school sweetheart, and his best friend, Dennis? Well, get this... Dennis was here for the weekend! It's a story all onto itself, but it's a great story, for sure. However... I digress. Getting back to the blizzard.

By the time, the whole weather system was over, folks had lost electricity. My landscape was pure white. All 40 of my backyard tree branches were bent way over, laden with heavy snow. The roads were dangerously slick and icy. The schools were all closed. I was in my fourth day of being stuck in the house. And...the chocolate cake was now almost half eaten. What an experience, is all I can say!

So much so, that yesterday, in FREEZING temps, I might add, I went on a neighborhood walk and took pictures up the kazoo, given the stunning winter wonderland. Absolutely incredible! It's going to take over a week for all the snow to melt away, but believe you me. As startling as this all was... when August rolls around, and it's like 92 degrees outside, I am SURE I'll look back upon Sunday with great want. Well, maybe. Oh yeah... biggest downside to all this? I CAN'T FIND MY FREAKIN' SNOW SHOVEL! As if I'd even use it anyway.

I'M CAVING IN

I can't believe it.... after 7 years of DYING for a piece of KFC, tomorrow night I'm finally doing it. I'm giving in. Why the long wait?? Uh.. easy. IT'S POISON. Why the caving?? Easy. I'M HAVING COMPANY. Again.

Actually, it's my second round up of entertaining in three days. My kid was in town this past weekend and in honor of his visit, I had about a dozen people here yesterday to join us for a pretty nifty brunch. Oh yeah... I decided the set up and prep takes about three hours. And then, the clean up another three hours. Two and a half hours of entertaining and boom. I've got a full time job on my hands. I better get used to it, though, because tomorrow night, I'm having like 14 OTHER guests for dinner.

ENTER: KFC. Or, as I like to call it... the poisonous, lazy route. I was about half way through the prepping of the brunch yesterday morning, when I decided oh my God. I have to do all this work all over AGAIN? At which point I said... UH... I DON'T THINK SO. Instead, after years of craaaaaving the poisonous chicken, I'M FINALLY DOING IT! I'm letting the Colonel do my work!!! YIPPEE!! Of course, I hope my guests don't shoot me for serving possibly the most nutrition-less entree ever, but... I'm banking on their getting over it. I just couldn't BEAR the thought of whipping up yet another big meal all by myself.

Well, the Colonel is only helping, actually. He'll supply the chicken and coleslaw. I'll supply the mashed potatoes and baked beans and fresh fruit salad and excellent dessert. Oops... and the wine, too. I shudder to think what the caloric intake is going to be, but trust me. At this point, I could give a s^#t. After all, at least I AM serving food. And, as if that's not enough... I'm not even using real china!! DISPOSABLE ALL THE WAY, BABY. Man, I'm giving a whole new meaning to lazy, alright. And, I'm doing it with great pride, I might add.

So basically, with sheer delight, I'm FINALLY going to be able to taste KFC once again. I soooo hope it's still the same greasy, poisonous chicken that I remember with such fondness. I also hope I don't get major sick to my stomach and live in the bathroom all night. Not that it won't STILL be worth it, mind you. If I'm not here to post any longer, you'll uh... know why. The Colonel did me in.

STRESSED OUT

Ya-HOO! I think I'm going to make it, after all. Remember the heart monitor I had to wear for 25 days? The one that I actually only wore for 18 days? Well, today was another heart test... a nuclear stress test. And, THIS test didn't take days, either. It took hours. As in: 3. And, it begins mighty early, if you ask me. As in: be there by 8:30 a.m. Oh yeah... you have to stop eating and/or drinking at midnight the night before. Now THERE'S a possible problem, if ever there was one. Good bye midnight snack. Good bye midnight drink. Additionally, good bye morning snack and morning drink. Have any idea how much I could drink AND eat between 12 and 8? Especially during some of those middle of the night bathroom runs. Anyway, the test is kinda simple. Well, most of it is, anyway. After they inject you with some sort of dye, you then have to have images of your heart before and after stress. And just how might you beCOME stressed?? Uh... by FAST WALKING. Fast walking AT AN INCLINE, no less. And... its gets faster and incline-ier as the test proceeds. Apparently, they like to see your heart REALLY racing. Trust me... mine did. At one point, in fact, I had to sort of tell them... uh, no. That's WAY too fast. Let alone steep. But... the good news is I made it up to my targeted heart rate, whatever that was, and I pulled through with flying colors. I must say... the people in the cardiologist's office were as nice as they could be, too. What WASN'T so nice is the bathroom they want you to use, given you had to also drink 3 cups of water. More water than I've had in 3 months, I might add. Anyway, they point you to the rest room.... except, get this... the rest room has one of those freaky disability toilet tops that rests upon the REAL toilet. EEEKS. So not my style. I ALmost began to sit upon it, but whew. My better judgement kicked in 1-2-3 and I said NO WAY. I'm finding ANOTHER toilet for my sweet little tush, thank you very much. I told the staff it was way too creepy for me, hence, find me another, please. They did, so mission accomplished, and boom. I was happy as a little lark. Actually I was even happier when they brought me juice and peanut butter crackers for a snack. Man, that tasted good. Of course it DOES make one wonder. If the heart is fine, then what's the deal with the tainted peanut butter that was probably recalled? I'm eating poison, but doing so with an excellent heart? When the doctor calls to give me the good news of my results... I may have to tell her... uh... you may want to rethink your snack program there. Afterall, if we're all making such fine progress with her fine medical attention, why do us in with her peanut butter crackers? Geez... I almost smell possible medical malpractice.