Freaking Ridiculous

My brain blew into a million little pieces because:

  • Bill from idiotic doctor: Just got a bill from Doogie Howser; he charged me $28 to walk through his office to the lab. Which he doesn’t own. The independent lab bill has been paid. Have always “walked” free. Times may be tough, dude, but you aren’t getting a penny from me. <sticking tongue out at dumb doc>
  • Liar, liar, magazine on fire: Waiting for another appointment, I thumbed through a recent fashion magazine. One feature focused on how make up can make you look so rested. Then I saw the before/after of the woman in the photos. I knew her. She had everything from the shoulders up “redone” by a plastic surgeon before the photo shoot. Of course, the magazine failed to mention that , instead crediting her bright mug to new lipstick and blush. What a bunch of crapola! If you choose to believe it, the make up will cost you $30,000.
  • Running into old boyfriends: In the past few months, I’ve run into an unreasonable number of one of my friend’s old boyfriends. Better hers than mine, but this is getting ridiculous. Note to friend: run into your own old boyfriends. Thank you.
  • “So all you are going to do is work the rest of your life?” and “We are worried about you, financially”: Two comments, different friends. Note to friends: Here’s my bank account number; feel free to make large deposits frequently. Then I will be able to sashay about the planet and you won’t worry. Win-win.
  • Lose weight by watching tv:  If you want to lose your appetite, turn on Strange Addictions. I’m sorry these people do what they do. Even if you have a stomach of steel, five minutes into this show will, at the very least, produce some serious gagging and an aversion to snacking between meals. Wretched.
  • “Your wait will be 18 seconds.”: Groovy! Got this customer service message yesterday when calling about insurance. Change that message! Waited 20 minutes and then instructed to leave a voice message. Yeah, right. Customer service, my ass.
  • Phone rings. “Hello?”:  “What are you doing?” Oh, accepting the Nobel Peace Prize, building a rocket in the kitchen, rotating my tires …. I am answering the damn phone. And I thought it was obvious. Meh!

Enough! Ranting is no way to start the day. Better go check my bank account for large deposits.

Cockeyed optimist, I am!

Later.

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When Size Does and Doesn’t Matter

Large/Small. Fat/Thin. Ecstatic/Not so much. There are circumstances when size is mas importante, there are times when it matters not.

Size Matters

  • Size of bank account when paying bills.
  • Size of shoes – stuffing a size 8 into a size 7 and hobbling around = OUCH!
  • Size of the sky – city dwellers have a reduced view; if you look at the night sky anywhere in far West Texas, the stars begin at the ground and are so profuse, the sky part is minimal. This would be good for the soul. And beyond beautiful.
  • Size of airline seats – unless you are 11 years old, a long flight in steerage  the cheap seats can propel you right into a hip replacement. Practicing fetal position before boarding helps a bit. Plus, I think the airlines should put labels on the arm rests; even though they are as big as a clothes pin, which one belongs to which seat? Really! First-class and business travelers, feel our pain! Not really, you paid not to. Trade seats?
  • Size of parking spots – please don’t park a honking land yacht in a space marked “Compact Cars”. There is nothing compact about a Suburban or a Monster Truck. Except maybe the ashtray and I don’t think they make those anymore.
  • Size of heart, spiritually speaking – can it ever be big enough? Methinks not.
  • Size of smile – a big one goes a long way.

Size Doesn’t Matter (to me)

  • Size of your bank account – not my business. Keeping eyes on own paper.
  • Size of clothing – numbers make me crazy; if it fits, wear it; if not, give it away. Sizes seem to make a lot of people feel bad about themselves. Just stupid numbers, people!
  • Size of shelter – matters not a whit.Protection from the elements.What does matter is making that shelter a home. Favorite quote: “People who are homeless are not social inadequates. They are people without a home.” I think home can be wherever you are.

Mushing.

See ya.

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.

Plastic Surgeon FREAKED Me Out

I went to see the best plastic surgeon in town … on a lark. If you had access to my bank statements, you’d know it was a lark. I’m a cat, curious and skittish. But more curious. And I wanted to see what this man would say to me. He’s known for “Sleeping Beauties”, performing facial surgery on women who, when recovered, look like they’ve had the best rest ever. And they don’t have those crazy Jack Nicholson eyebrows – the first tipoff that somebody’s been under the knife.

Made a consultation appointment and appeared at the correct time. After very little paperwork, I was ushered into surgeon’s office. He was nice. But he’s in his seventies and had no grey hair and very few wrinkles. Oh yeah, he’s a plastic surgeon. And here’s how it went:

Doc: “What are you here for?”

Me: “Well, you have an excellent reputation and I’ve admired your work. Am not loving the fine lines around my mouth and wanted to know what you would do?” (Why does he keep putting his left hand under his desk?)

Doc: “Well, you have a long neck so I would do a neck somethingorother and then a midline facelift. You don’t need body work.” (How would you know? I’m fully clothed sitting across the desk from you.)

Me: “My neck? Facelift? Draw me a picture.” (And stop putting your hand under the desk)

He proceeded to draw the scariest picture of the side of a head with stitches and scars everywhere. Enough!

Me: “That looks terrifying, not to mention the recovery would be heinous.”

Doc: “I’ll throw in the upper eyelids for $1000.”

Me: “Upper eyelids … I don’t even wear mascara. What? Forget the eyes, how much for the stuff you suggested?”

Doc: “blablablablablabla”.

Me: “So you’re talking $20,000 walking? Are you f-ing kidding me? No offense, and I realize it’s your job, but ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Doc: “No, and you’ll probably need tweaking in about eight years. Show me your stomach.”

Like a moron, I pulled up my shirt and showed him my stomach. What in the living hell did a midline facelift+ have to do with my stomach? I must be on Candid Camera.

Me: “Thank you for your time. You’ve confirmed my intention to age gracefully = no knives near me unless eating. But good luck – for every one of me, there’s ten you”ll “fix”. Yeah, you!”

And for the record, Dr. Demento, keep your hands where I can see’em AND hahaha, my stomach is none of your business, surgically speaking.

Oh, and if I decide to take him up on his offer in the next year, my consultation fee will be deducted from the 20K. I have happily eaten $75 with my own knife and fork.

Later.

*Unlike Nora Ephron, I feel great about my neck!

Good Reads, Phrases Translated, BS Intervention and Questions!

Good Morning, All! For some reason, my interior clock has been going off at 5 am, no matter how late I’ve gone to bed. It’s my theory that our “interiors” change every seven years – guess this is one of those. But I digress…..

Reading

  • Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight by Alexandra Fuller (read this one first)
  • Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness by Alexandra Fuller
  • Stupid and Contagious by Caprice Crane
  • Be The Miracle by Regina Brett
  • Duty Free by Moni Mohsin – hilarious

Listening

  • I wish I could play the piano like Gavin DeGraw does in his song, “Not Over You”. Beautiful. Even for people like me who are not even in that place (missing an ex), it still is mighty fine. Would also like to play the guitar like Jimi Hendrix beginning with “All Along the Watchtower”.

Not Watching  – one of my jobs allows me to work from home which allows me to watch tv and/or dance while I work. Am giving up tv because of these shows:

    • Extreme Cheapskates – watched this once time for 15 minutes; REPULSIVE and two of my former relationship men DID some of this stuff – told you I was a bad picker. Ewwwwwwwwwwwww.
    • Dance Moms – some of the stage moms on this show make any and all Housewives of Who Cares look like church ladies. Instructor Abby Lee Miller scares me more than Ron Paul + Nick Sabin + Rick Perry but she does get results out of her child dancers. One mother, the embodiment of self-control and a perfect role model, aimed her mouth at Abby Lee screamed “Whore” several times, in front of the children. I mean, her daughter didn’t get the part Momma thought she should. NOTHING. RIGHT. ABOUT. THIS.
Watching
  • Downton Abbey on PBS – Amazing period piece with costumes I am drooling over. Plus, these people behave properly.

Translations English to English

  • cool kicks – nice shoes
  • throwing bo’s – place is so crowded, elbows needed to make way through

BS Intervention and Man Stuff

  • Help, SOS maybe – ok, this is where your input is requested; do know that if you say something I don’t like, you will have 17 years of … something. I THINK I NEED A BS INTERVENTION. Specifically when speaking with Possible Possibility Guy. Back story: have been running into him for years but paid no attention for whatever reason. Plus, when he saw my youngest daughter, he was rendered fairly speechless and he is too old for her. It has been recorded here time and again, I am a geriatric magnet. I am not a geriatric nor am I interested in men older than my dad. Possible is about my age, has hair, and is one cool customer. When I talk to him, my bs reeks. The most inane information flies out of my mouth, truly horrifying. This is uncommon. Maybe it’s the seven-year change thing. If I don’t get my bs in line, I will be forced into a world where I’m pushing wheelchairs, cleaning dentures, and changing catheters with a mortal beloved (short-term, of course). Help. Why does this happen?
  • While walking my dog last night, I noticed one of my neighbors (he is my eldest daughter’s age) emptying his saucepan in the bushes outside his front door. Good grief – someone needs to tell him about disposals, non? His neighbor, an elderly man, puts peanuts out for the squirrels. The white styrofoam kind. Lots of dead squirrels.

ENOUGH! Must go back to creating big pink spheres for event. Am getting real $ for this. Something new and different.

If you have ideas about good bs with Possibility, do share – keep in mind, I have delete button.

Be happy. Or fake it. Or not. Your choice.
Over and out. Later.

Heimliching My Dog and Other Stuff

Bear with me here – haven’t posted in so long, my fingers are rusty. But let’s do get down to business nonsense.

So, my dog will not re-enter the house without my giving him a treat. My bad and he’s a fatso as a result. But I digress. Several weeks ago, I provided the requisite treat to get his fat self back in the house. The treat was rather large. Several minutes later, I noticed him walking in circles, mouth open, ears down … choking. Somewhere, I’d read something about someone giving the Heimlich Maneuver to their animal. So I got my arms around him, did HM and out popped the offender. He was so happy, he went straight into Liberace mode.

Himself, after donning his faux fur stole

Hairy Stuff

So, my hair is longer than it’s been in 22 years. Big whoop, you say. Well, it’s working for me in two ways. First, my “do” is so patently different from my former “pixie”, I can go almost anywhere undetected. Really, people I’ve known since I was 12 don’t recognize me. So great for covert operations and dodging people I can’t possibly be nice to. Second, men like hair. Who knew? I’ve grown my hair out because I wanted to, period. But it is hilarious how many men talk to me. This is not a vanity thing; when you are a certain age, the eyes aren’t what they once were and I think they are just now figuring out I’m not a boy. Je suis tout étonné.

Need some awesome White Elephant gifts? I did and boy, did I hit the jackpot at Dollar Tree. Got 12 separate hair extension situations (a bevy of colors) for $12; my friends will be delighted.

Fab hair extensions, complete with braided bandeau

Old Photos

My mom keeps giving me old family photos. Here’s the latest – it’s really a dear mother/child shot.

My grandmother and mother - love

Books

Am working through a load of pages. My book club is reading “Unbroken” by Laura Hillenbrand. Having a bit of a time getting into it. Other pages I’m turning:

  • Big White Panties by Dale Alderman – sort of amusing but no classic
  • Stupid and Contagious by Caprice Crane – she’s pretty funny
  • Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer – loved this even though it broke my heart

Bargains

Two words:  Dollar Store. No, you can’t buy everything there, but you can save some bucks. Aside from hair extensions, these spots are the best for wrapping paper, gift sacks, tissue, dental floss and weirdo stuff from childhood. Have also found an online shopping secret … check out websites you purchase from; they often featured unadvertised discounts – like 30-40% off. Experts say the discounts will only get deeper. Just so you know.

Ok, gotta mush.

Be happy – it’s a choice.

Later.

If It’s Tuesday, I Am Freaky

75 and feeling fine

What freaks you out?

After reading a post about hotels by domermom, I was immediately reminded of things that go ick in the night. Starting with hotels – five-star or no star – hotel rooms freak me out. When I enter one, there are activities I am forced to perform. First, get hanger out of closet and remove bedspread using hanger. Toss anywhere out of view. Not a fan of gizz monsters/leftovers. Unpack socks. Lots of socks. Which come in handy when I need to walk on hotel room floor. There is no way in hell I would put my bare foot down on the carpet. See “leftovers”. Unpack flip-flops – for shower. Flush toilet with foot. I’m freaky that way.

Other Stuff that Gags Me

  • Food troughs, as in all-you-can-eat establishments
  • Sitting in traffic and looking over at the car next to me. The driver is digging for nose gold.
  • My dog trying to cozy up to my minimal chesticles. I didn’t breastfeed my babies; he is freaking me out.
  • Smells: scrambled eggs, wet puppies, ground beef cooking, chicken boiling, cig smoke in cars, b.o., Asiago cheese
  • People scratching their privates in public – get a room
  • Chaos – some people love an environment filled with ringing phones, slamming doors, loud convos – all fine, but not for me
  • Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul (I do this regularly)
  • Intentional disrespect – i.e. ugly scuffle on DWTS last night, Bitches Housewives of Beverly Hills always ganging up on one woman

Enough! Let’s end this on a positive note! Playing Words With Friends the other night, Lady Di used “ergo“; I LOVE that word. Other faves include scathing, magical, lilting, and – when strung together – you have just won 100 billion dollars. Haven’t heard that last one yet. Ergo, I’d best get back to work.

Later.