Under My Skin

I’m so peaced out, nothing gets under my skin. Except EVERYTHING. I’ll try to keep this brief.

  • Bad Press = More of the Same: In the olden days (last year), employees of GIANT DELIVERY SERVICES actually brought packages to your door. Numerous news clips over the past few months indicate some employees simply use your address as a target, the package as an arrow. We won’t even talk about the condition of the contents of said package/arrow. One would think GIANT DELIVERY SERVICES would have a chat with their staff, requesting true delivery of packages as opposed to Hail Mary target practice. Not so much. My recent experience:

Thanks, UPS

  • Car Dealership Service Departments: Maybe it’s just me, but I believe these should be renamed “Car Dealership So What Departments”. Living in a huge city, there are often numerous places to have your car “maintained”. Not mine. One dealership-from-hell. The service department is chock full of truly angry people with a collective offensive linebacker mentality when it comes to service. Slam that customer to the ground asap. Should your car need anything, it’s all your fault, not covered under warranty, and that will be 17 grillion dollars plus tax, tip, title, gratuity, and first dibs on future grandchildren to recover your vehicle. See ya never!

All I needed was an oil change 😦

  •  So Where Do I Get My Car Serviced?: Faced with this question yesterday, I went straight to the Wizard a.k.a. Google. Spent the better part of the day doing my research online. Selected the lucky service garage (keyword “loaner car”), rang them up, made my appointment for today. This morning, I packed some supplies (food, water, phone) and headed out to the garage. Which is in another town. I did have a map but am directionally dyslexic; maps serve me as well as Car Dealership So What Departments. One hour later – complete with 456 twists and turns – I’m there! Wherever that is. Everything is going along perfecto until we get to loaner car. Apparently there are just a few from which to choose. And here it comes …. “Can you drive a stick?”. Yes, of course I can drive a stick but haven’t since I was in my teens. “No”. A little bit of hemming and hawing and a big white thing appears in the driveway. I have no idea what it is but it goes forward and backward automatically. So I’m not really ranting about the new service provider, just the fact that I have to leave town to get my car taken care of. Wackadoodledo.
  • Car & Pet Wash: Swear on everything, I saw this place on my way back from wherever my car is. I am so taking photos tomorrow to prove it. In the meantime, I am quite confused how this situation works. Do you multitask by attaching dog to hood of car? That’s unacceptable. Does the cat drive the car, with perfume flowing through the air vents? Have you ever heard of this?

Is it too early to drink?

Later.

Should, Could, Probably Won’t

Oh My! Lent begins tomorrow and I’ve yet to figure out what to do. Am “supposed” to give up at least one thing in the spirit of sacrifice, but giving up is not an option at this point. There are too many things I could and/or should give up or do …. hmm …

  1. Do not contemplate existence at night: really am going to try this as trying to figure anything out after dark does not serve me well.
  2. Use the phone: the biggest complaint about me (to my face) is that I live in a no-phone zone. Meaning I don’t call anyone much. Not because I don’t want to talk, I do. My phone phobia is a result of a past job wherein I was required to answer my home phone, office phone, cell phone and a beeper at all hours. And no, I wasn’t a bail bondsman or bounty hunter.  Am getting a bit better … inch by inch … maybe … occasionally … not so much?
  3. Stop eating chocolate: not. going. to. happen.
  4. Stop eating fast food: this is a cheat, I don’t eat fast food.
  5. Stop flipping off idiot drivers: better do this; it’s just a matter of time until my middle finger is blown off by a driver packing heat. Note to self: turn the sass down when on road.
  6. Stop spending: oh, this could be good. Notice to mortgage company and any other business that requires me to bleed money – I’m giving up the bills for Lent. Love ya, mean it.
  7. Take dog on long walk: up for consideration … Australia, the Great Wall of China, Ohio …..
  8. Find balance: really. If you know where this is, please advise.

So much to do, so little time.

Dashing.

Be happy. It’s a choice. A hard choice for me, sometimes, but a choice nonetheless.

Underwear Fail, Tribal Insanity, and Some Other Stuff

Today I am blaming EVERYTHING on Sean Kingston. For the life of me, I can’t get that 911 song out of my head. Nor can I get the lyrics right. I thought he was singing, “Someone call 911, Shortie’s on fire on the dance floor”. Looked lyrics up and they are, “Somebody call 911, Shawty fire burning on the dance floor”. What the hell is a “Shawty“? So I had to google that as well; a shawty is a “fine woman”. Hating on that whole situation. But let me share some more.

Underwear Fail  Seated around a restaurant dinner table with mixed company, this was the convo:

Bare Bottom: “I have to go put on some underpants. I forgot I didn’t have any on.”

Me: “YOU DON’T HAVE UNDERWEAR ON? DON’T CALL THEM “UNDERPANTS”; THOSE ARE FOR MEN. WHERE IS YOUR UNDERWEAR?”

Bare Bottom: Left’em in the car hours ago. Just bought some around the corner. Where’s the restroom?”

Just like that – stomping around a windy city for hours, in a dress and no panties – and it takes 5 hours to figure it out?  That, my friends, is typical dinner conversation around these parts. Would say we are a pack of toothless, inbred  hillbillies if not for my mother’s recent convos.

Mama Says – After reminding me what my middle name was (not that I asked), she said “Five of our family members signed the Magna Carta“. Ok, so we might be toothless and inbred. When I went to visit my Dad today, she said, in this order, “Get a job. Your hair needs a trim. I’m exhausted.” Well, hello to you, too, Mrs. Happy Pants. I make myself scarce and go find my Dad.

Daddy Says – Let me give you a little “dad” info. Mine speaks in quotes, a lot. “She looks like 40 miles of bad road”, “That dog won’t hunt”, and “I am NOT a rich man” frequently pepper many a chat. When I saw him today, he was stoned out of his gourd, but he did ask me the same question he asks me every day. I’ve told him the long-winded answer. Every day. Except today. “What is the graduate doing?”. My answer – one word. “Plastics.” Which made perfect sense to him after a Vicodin cocktail. Thinking about all his ‘isms made me think of some other ‘isms my friends use.

Friends Say – The ones that come to mind include Jeez o’peep, Lawd A’Mercy, Reeeeeeally?, and one I’ve yet to figure out, “F*^k me running”. Could that be the same as “Cool Running”? Don’t know, can’t get a bead on that visual. Then I remembered what we would say in middle school when mad at one another. Start low, end high. “Get so mad, would ‘ya? Yes, I will, thank ‘ya”. Somehow, this stroll down short memory lane reminded me of what I just read.

WHAT I JUST READ

  • WHY DOES A PSYCHIC HAVE TO ASK YOUR NAME?”
  • “HOW CAN YOU TELL WHEN YOU ARE OUT OF INVISIBLE INK?”
  • “WHY IS THE NEEDLE STERILIZED FOR A LETHAL INJECTION?”
  • “SILLY CYCLIST … STEROIDS ARE FOR BALLPLAYERS!”

Wow.I am scaring myself. Would go find an adult refreshment but, whoops, ex-housekeeper drained liquor cabinet. Instead, I’ll just go all optimistic here!  Winner, Winner! It’s a Charlie Sheen day! Now where is that Dragon Blood?

Later. Maybe. Probably.

Milestone Playlist in Three-Part Harmony

This is a story in three-part harmony.

Drove to Austin listening to my current favorite playlist.  My youngest, McPaddie, was graduating from UT. My solo road trip was extra fun because I could sing at the top of my lungs. SWEET. This morning, I jumped in the car, turned on the tunes, and headed home. SWEET and SALTY. What a difference 24 hours make.

One: BeforeWoke up yesterday morning at Austin Ann‘s peace haven. Something is off – oh, haven’t had coffee yet. Drink my body weight in java, read Nora Ephron‘s, “I Feel Bad About My Neck” from cover to cover. Jump in shower to wash off oompa loompa tan and get all gussied up for the Big Event. The second I see Ann, I tear up. Her baby just graduated from UGA, my baby will have a diploma in a couple of hours. It was a mom moment. Lots of deep breathing.  Fairy Godmother, Poob, arrived, we put our high hoofs on and off we went.

Two: During –  Met up with Miss Peach (eldest daughter) and her dad at the venue. Each school has a commencement ceremony; we were in an enormous venue for The School of Communications.

Yep, we were going to be there for hours. Poob‘s daughter graduated from Stanford; Oprah gave the commencement speech. We were anxious to find out who we would be listening to. Opened the program and OMG. The address was being given by a guy who dated one of our friends in high school and was engaged to another friend after college. I immediately sent a text to both women: Craig Dubow is the SPEAKER!” Furious texts flew back and forth between Austin, Houston, and Fredericksburg. I mean, he does have cred – Chairman and CEO of Gannet Co., Inc. Whatev. We had most excellent seats and McPaddie was front row. She walked, we screamed, and two-and-1/2 hours later we hooked our horns,  sang, “The Eyes of Texas”, and piled out into the Texas heat. Pictures taken all around amidst a throng of other picture takers. My graduate was one happy camper. Another mom moment – proud. Off we went for drinks at the W, very cool. Then Skywalker, the graduate’s fab love muffin, met us at Eddie V‘s for dinner. All great fun, saw the world, including friends we’d gone to UT with. Poob and I left the younger ones at that point; we’d been in graduation mode for 12 hours and it was closing time – for us. This morning, we left Ann with smooches, had a bite with the grad, hugs and smooches all around, and we headed in three different directions.

Three: After – Driving out of Austin for the umpteenth time, I turned up the tunes and pressed the pedal to the metal. But this time, it was different. My oldest has a big life in our home town. The youngest isn’t coming home. They are both amazing. We’ve all experienced a milestone. Listening to the music, tears started falling out of my eyes. Happy, proud, sweet tears mixed with some salty, sentimental mom water. Deep breathing. Nothing is impossible. Life is good. Mysterious, but good.

The Playlist, in no particular order

  • “Raise Your Glass” – Pink
  • “Don’t Stop Believing” – Journey
  • “Gimme Shelter”– The Rolling Stones
  • “Stronger” – Glee Cast
  • “Sweet Child O’ Mine” – Guns N’Roses
  • “Heads Will Roll” – Yeah Yeah Yeah’s
  • “Born This Way”– Lady GaGa
  • Dueling Guitars” – August Rush movie
  • Defying Gravity” – Idina Menzel and Lea Michele
  • On The Floor”Jennifer Lopez with Pitbull
  • Someone Like You” – Adele
  • “Learn To Fly” – Foo Fighters
  • “Sweet Home Alabama” – Lynyrd Skynrd
  • “Shout It Out Loud” – KISS
  • “Daughter” – Loudon Wainwright III
  • Mercy” – Duffy
  • “I Was Made To Love Her” – Stevie Wonder
  • “Hallelujah” – Jeff Buckley

As for the three-part harmony ……..

Peach, McPaddie, Cita/iz

 “A daughter may outgrow your lap, but she will never outgrow your heart.”

Blessed two times over, I am.

Later.

The View from Here and There

Okay, so I’m no Blanche DuBois, forced to “depend on the kindness of strangers“, but am really lucky and most grateful to have generous and kind dear friends who like to hit the road a lot and ask me to ride shotgun. They are kind; I am a travel ho. Facts are facts.

I think I’m having a traveling year. Poor me, right? No boo hoo anywhere near me – I love to travel. Am a horrid photographer, but the picture above features the home of a 14-foot alligator named Buster. He lives on an island off South Carolina. I didn’t meet him but when I was little, my dad picked me up and pretended he was throwing me into an alligator pit at some tourist trap. I was that kind of kid, the kind you want to throw to the alligators. Maybe that’s where all my self-confidence comes from.

So I’m dropping in and out-of-town, at least through June. God willing and the creek don’t rise. I do miss Cooper the dog, but he’s so pissed I’m not around, he’ll probably bite me when we see each other again. Speaking of bites, I used that phrase, “bite me” quite a bit but I had to stop. Why would I want someone who was giving me shit to bite me? Wouldn’t, shouldn’t I want to bite them instead? Someone, anyone, please explain. Ok, back on track.

Last night was a full moon. Was in the beautiful country with girlfriends. Center photo was taken during post-dinner/cocktails. Outside, lying on a huge pad with four girlfriends, singing summer camp songs we learned many a moon ago. Friends for more than 40 years (pre-school). Nothing had changed, everything has changed. And we left out a bunch of words to the songs because – whoops – we couldn’t remember them. El Jefe, our hostess, brought up the fact that, with the moon and all, we could be eaten by werewolves. That happens all the time, you know. I left them out there debating when and where said werewolves would appear and went to bed. They were all alive the next morning. Win-win.

So, I’m home for today, packing to leave for McPaddie‘s graduation from college. My bank account, which has 7 cents in it, is doing its own happy dance. Have been honest before about my aversion to the sun resulting in skin the color of packaged chicken. Fine for winter, dreadful for spring/summer. Have tried self-tanners with disastrous results. Once I had orange candy cane striped legs and the People of Walmart actually pointed to and laughed at them. Oh, the shame. My friend, Malibu, has provided me with an alternative.

The phrase, “Vanity, thy name is woman” would apply – if it were correct. But Shakespeare wrote, “Frailty, thy name is woman“. Whatever – I went to the magic place, Throwing Copper, today and am now airbrushed a golden copper shade. I would say “I’m so vain” but truly, it is a gift for anyone who has to look at me. It is organic stuff, doesn’t smell horrid and lasts about a week. Apparently I’m the last one to this party as this practice is a weekly ritual for many. And it could be weird, standing there with your privacy hanging out while the shaman airbrushes your bod. But it does look quite fetching if I don’t say so myself. Here’s the scoop, in case you, too, have sun issues:

 

Continue reading

Do Not Text While Drinking Geritol

  

My friend just sent me an email with texting codes for those who are young at heart (read: older). Sharing:

ATD = At The Doctor

BTW = Bring The Wheelchair

BYOT = Bring Your Own Teeth

FWIW = Forgot Where I Was

LMDO = Laughing My Dentures Out

OMSG = Oh My! Sorry, Gas

ROFLACGU = Rolling On The Floor Laughing And Can’t Get Up

IMHAO = Is My Hearing Aid On?

GGPBL = Gotta Go, Pacemaker Battery Low

TTYL = Talk To You Louder

LATER.

Are You Superstitious? Fact and Fiction ….

 

Years ago, I wrote a 13 page article about superstitions for a magazine. Have always loved superstitions and had a mighty fine time researching them. Have no idea why they are on my mind right now (am sure there’s a superstition about that) but superstitions will be the topic of this and maybe the following post. Or not. So let’s get started here …….

  • Fridays: For some religions, the term, “TGIF“, should instead be, “OSIF“(Oh Shit, It’s Friday!). Adam and Eve got booted from the Garden of Eden, Noah’s Arc set sail, and Jesus was crucified – all on Friday.
  • Garlic: “Carry garlic to ward off the Evil Eye“. This will not protect you from the Stink Eye, which you will receive in abundance due to the pungent garlic you are carrying. Ah, the sacrifices.
  • Knock On Wood: In the olden days, protective spirits were believed to live in trees. Knocking on wood would “intensify” the wish that was being made. If this is true, American Loggers, you are sooooo screwed.
  • Stumbling: Stumbling when leaving the house and stumbling several times while out of the house indicate bad luck is headed your way.  I think if you are stumbling around, you should quit drinking, do not drive, and get orthopedic shoes.
  • Wearing a Hat to Bed:  I suppose it’s bad luck because you are obviously drunk again.
  • Meeting Three Sheep: To meet three sheep is good luck. It’s the language barrier that’s awkward. “Hello, how do you do?” “Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.”
  • Right Side of Bed: If you are accused of “getting up on the wrong side of the bed”, you need to know this. The right side of the bed is lucky. Using the left side will assure you a Grumpy Grumbleson sort of day.
  • Crossed Fingers: This symbol is used to ward off the devil; it is also popular at the craps table and right up to the time you can’t remember why you crossed your fingers.
  • Wear Clothing Inside Out: This is supposed to be good luck; I believe people who won’t wear their glasses made this up. My ex house helper used to fold my lingerie inside out. So this superstition, to me, means everything in my house has been broken and the liquor cabinet drained dry.
  • Putting Your Shoes On the Table: this action assures you will have bad luck and you already have horrid manners.
  • A Shrew in Your Pocket: Apparently, carrying a dead mouse in your pocket will ward off rheumatism. Could also get you a one-way ticket to the nearest psych ward.

I have a few suggestions to throw in here. While more fact than superstition, I’m the boss of this page so…..

  • Let’s Do Lunch: If someone says this to you, you can bet the farm it will never happen. EVER. Good luck.
  • Sleep With Wedding Cake Under Pillow: When I was little, it was almost a rule that you took a slice of wedding cake home from the festivities. Wrapped carefully and put under your pillow, you would supposedly dream of your future husband. This is NOT TRUE. You will, however, wake up in the middle of the night and eat the smushed cake. Perhaps the term, “midnight snack”, came from this activity. Fat luck.
  • Purple Teeth: If you drink red wine, you will have purple teeth, temporarily. The more you drink, the deeper purple.  Not the best look. Bad luck/Good buzz.

What superstitions strike your fancy?

Ok, gotta go. My glass slippers are hurting like a mother and my carriage has already turned into a pickup truck.

Later.

My Hug Project & Other Madness

Ok, so I’ve been thinking (scary) and observing. As a reformed “Don’t even think about getting in my personal space” person AND the fact that Lent begins tomorrow and my “Lenten To Do” list was a bit lacking, I’m making an addition. From March 8 until April 24, I will hug someone every day. If you think this is an no-brainer, think again.

A hug can be supportive, comforting, affectionate, or welcoming. We are born with the “innate need for human touch”. Several years back, I tried to explain this basic need to a group of friends. My comments were met with, “there she goes again” looks and the subject was changed. But I press on. When I lived with a houseful of people, I never thought about it, either. In my techno world, I can communicate with tons of people on a daily basis without actually seeing live human being for days. Not. Good. Physical connection is healthy and hugs are nice so there you have it.

I’ve got two weeks covered; daughter visits and trips. But the rest of the time … well, talk about stepping out of my comfort zone. I might have to hug strangers, which could lead to my arrest and jail is not a good place to launch a “hugging project”. But I’m getting ahead of myself. At the end of the day, I think it might be good. Will keep you posted, whether you care or not. Must add a warning to “dates” during this time:  if I hug you, it is NOT an invitation to grab my ass. It means I am fulfilling my daily duty AND  I don’t like you enough to even produce an air kiss. The old “hug and SHOO!” Just sayin’.

Speaking of madness (see header), let me tell you how insane the state I live in is. I won’t address public education, which the powers that be are trying to do away with. Really. I won’t address the fact that our state has a “rainy day fund” for education emergencies and the moron Governor does not consider this tsunami a rainy day. But I will briefly address mental illness (not mine, ha!).

Drive by any bus stop in my city, and I promise, you will see someone talking to themselves. In a crazy way. Because when the mentally challenged use up their chits at state institutions, they are loaded up on a bus and dropped off – wherever. This process is tragic. As I drove  into the Target parking lot this morning, I saw a woman pulling a suitcase toward the door. She was yelling up a storm – at nobody. She obviously had some mental issues and her angry ranting was scary. I parked, went into the store, and started my bargain hunting. She was right behind me. And she was some kind of pissed off. I kept moving to different parts of the store, but I could hear her wherever I went. “I’m a 33rd level Mason! I don’t have a husband! But I’m a Mason.” Don’t know much about Masons but I’m pretty sure they are men. I was outta there. But not before she verbally assaulted two checkers and ventured back into the belly of the store. I suggested they might want to have security “assist” Ms. Mason, especially since she has her suitcase in her cart and God only knows what’s in there. They laughed. As I left, I noticed security filing her fingernails; that’s what 16-year-old security guards do, I guess. Situations such as this make me feel helpless. And I hate that.

On a different note, I’ve got my F-It Bucket all ready to go. For those of you who are unaware of what a FIB is, you will have to read my previous post. Or not. Your choice. Nevertheless, … ta -da ……..

All credit goes to Amy Sedaris for idea

This may only be big enough for a couple of days. But it is the official F-Bomb depository. Feel free to add yours – all I need is the name of offender/offensive situation that makes you want to say “F-You”; I’ll write it out and make a deposit. Sharing. Hugs. Madness.

Happy F-ing Tuesday!

Later.

You need a WHAT????????

True story:  Last night, Malibu took KK and me to dinner at a Mexican restaurant in our neighborhood. We had fun; hours of yakity yak. We called it quits and walked out of the restaurant, headed to our cars. Just then, a white car pulled up and parked within inches of us. A normal looking psycho guy jumped out.

Psycho: “I need a screw!”

Trio of us: “You need a what?

Psycho: “I need a screw!”

Me: “Well, you’re not gonna get one here. Are we being filmed?”

Psycho: ” No, I need a real specific screw. I’m gay. I was a contractor. I’m in from Dallas to go to the dentist (like they don’t have dentists in Dallas?). I’m gay so I don’t want to screw y’all; I need a certain kind of screw“. (A whole lot of TMI).

While Malibu attempted to direct him to the nearest Home Depot, which was already closed, his driver lurched out of the car and rounded the corner to address us. She was stoned out of her mind and had difficulty making words with her lips. Psycho told us she was a “retired” dentist.  She said she was currently a “mangoaergkuhdelrja;bfafebgoiha“. That means “jewelry maker” in too much nitrous oxide land.

In the meantime, Psycho declared to one and all that he was breaking up with his boyfriend; he liked women now. He whipped out his cell phone and showed us a picture of a naked girl in the shower. Which meant absolutely nothing. Except he’s also a perv.

 KK is too polite, so  sexually ambiguous Psycho put on his major flirt for her; he was not one minute cute. Malibu was trying to decode the “retired” dentist’s mishmash of noises. She was too young to retire; she obviously enjoyed her meds and was still working on her retirement cache. Whatever, it was time to GO.

As we walked away, Psycho hollered at us.

Are there any hookers at Home Depot?”

If there are, they’ll be in the nail department.”

Was last night the all-clear for insane asylums? Didn’t get that memo.

Later.

*We don’t look like hookers, collectively or individually. Just sayin’.*

what? What? WHAT?

Had to get something somewhere early this morning. Driving to my destination, I turn on the radio. The song playing has a chorus that says, “luh li lis”. First I check the radio buttons because I could have mistakenly punched the Hawaiian station. Nope. Continue hearing ridiculous chorus, “luh li lis”. Maybe it’s a message from God? Maybe they are singing in tongue? Nope. Finally the main singer, who did posses the power of pronunciation, cleared the matter up for me. “Love Like This“.  I would rant, but I can’t.

When I was working in the school store, several students stepped right up and ordered annihilaters. I’m new to the store, I don’t buy candy as a rule. I search and search for annilaters but there are none to be found. I turn back to my customers and tell them we don’t have any. They look at me like I am a severe idiot. My feathers get a bit ruffled. When the lunch crowd goes back to class, I take a moment to study the candy display. Right behind where I was standing, there is a huge selection of annihilaters. But they are Now&Laters. Either people need to take proper pronunciation seriously or I need a hearing aid. Probably both. Shit.

Got a funny email from my friend yesterday. It was one of those “Maxine” cartoons. So appropriate. ” After Monday and Tuesday, even the calendar says W T F. Hahahahahaha.

Later.