Don’t Want to Know!

Noise makes me nervous. Noisy nonsense makes my hair hurt. In an effort to retain a few strands … here is a list of what I don’t want to know about:

  • Anything that has anything to do with Snooki, The Douchebag Bachelor, and The Real Bitches Housewives of Beverly Hills, Orange County, Pinot Noir, etc.
  • How much political candidates spend on their campaigns. Here’s a novel idea – what if you people led by example?  Announce your office intentions, take the grillions of dollars you use to attempt to get that office and spend it on all sorts of programs that will help your fellow citizens and make this country a better place? Swear you would get more “coverage” than you are paying for, more votes, and you’d sleep better. Just a thought.
  • “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?”- there was a time when I enjoyed hearing all the juicy details about EVERYONE. Sick, I know. Thank God, life changes can happen. If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t sit next to me.
  • Another story about a woman/man overboard. Just this morning, a new report about a woman mysteriously disappearing while on a cruise. With her boyfriend. In a last-ditch (no pun intended, really) effort to patch up relationship. Note to people in relationships spiraling downward: NO VACATIONS. Tragic.
  • The end of the world. When it happens, it happens. Not worth a millisecond of worry. Live Big each and every day you find yourself on this side of the terra firma.

A solar flare is currently headed our way, threatening to wreak temporary havoc on all things electrical.Must shut this puppy off before it goes up in flames. And clear my head.

I wish there was a vacuum cleaner for the brain.

Later.

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.

Here’s to You, and You, and You

Just getting it off my chesticles:

  • To 32-year-old civil rights lawyer with really long hair: love your job, long hair is cool, dancing at event is fun but anything else, NO CAN DO! Not a fan of Harold and Maude situations. Give Demi Moore a jingle when she gets to feeling better. Caio!
  • To woman who asks me my name despite the fact we’ve met 346 times: none of your business, obviously. Get off the meds, you’ve lost whatever mind you had.
  • To the waiter from hell on his first night: bless your heart. You got a 20% tip because we felt sorry for you. Please, in the name of all diners, seek a new occupation. Art school? Banjo player in Vegas? Anything BUT waiting tables.  Thank you.
  • To the woman who thinks she knows it all: oh no you don’t! Go to the hardware store, buy some duct tape and put it over your mouth. Then go to the compassion store and clear the shelves. Haven’t the faintest where you can get a conscience, but wouldn’t be a bad idea to look into that, either.
  • To my dog: yes, I love you to the moon and back. I take better care of you than I do myself.  But you must stop creeping around eating God knows what in the middle of the night. Waking up to the sound of gagging does not put a festive spin on the day. Thank you.
  • To the woman who used to tidy up my house and empty my liquor cabinet: all is forgiven, it is a heinous job. I would get drunk, too, but alas … you drank me dry. Nevermind.
  • To all the nice friends we ran into at the “no one goes there” restaurant: that was not me in the baseball cap. Evil twin. Swear.
  • To Amazon, Kindle, Nook and other businesses selling/delivering books to iPad, etc.: stop blaming “the publishers” for the inflated book prices. You could do something about this if you wanted to, but you know how lazy we are. Stop It. While the product is convenient, it is usually riddled with weirdo spaces and funky words. STOP IT. Note to self: get up and go to the bookstore. Stop the madness. You should be ashamed of yourself. I am. Over.
  • To the Food Channel: I became an addict a few days after 9/11 … because your spot was all happiness and recipes and a total escape. Please lose “Fat Chef”. No disrespect meant to the plight of the obese but sad doesn’t look good on you. Make a deal with Lifetime or Bravo. Thank you.

Enough ranting.

Off to find my happy pants!

Later.

I Would Marry My Dog if He Could Talk and Screw in a Light Bulb

And a few other things … but that’s the truth. And, that’s exactly what I said to the last man who asked. When I get the “I thought you’d be remarried by now!” and the “Why aren’t you remarried yet? stuff, I’m very honest. I was married for 20 years, it didn’t work out. While I’ve had relationships since, none have been worth a lifetime commitment. Doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen, just that I can’t be a nurse and won’t be purse. Kooky? Yes. Stupid? Not so much. Until then, it’s me and him …..

Get me a beer, pronto!

Onto other kooky stuff –

I was in a great shop yesterday. A cute mom and her daughter, a blonde version of Holly Golightly, came in. “Holly” wanted to try on a few things while Mom took a seat for the fashion show. Do you know what a “hanger” is? The female human version usually has broad shoulders, is thin, and can wear anything. “Holly” was a hanger, so her options were endless. While Mom told me her life story as well as those focusing on the health of her extended family, “Holly” rocked the racks.

In the middle of this personal/retail therapy situation, in blew our town’s version of Mr. Fabulous (think Martin Short as Franck inFather of the Bride and/or the enthusiastic(!) Kevin Lee on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills). But our Mr. Fab is very attractive and has better bs. Nevertheless, it was double air kisses all around and he added levity to the therapy show. Mom’s stories were getting sadder and sadder, so I was damn glad to see him. When “Holly” came out in her 47th outfit (I kid you not), Fab turned to me and said, “Your top is amazingly beautiful”. So, being the truthful sort, I announced to the whole store, “I got it at Walmart and it cost $9.” Shut it down, shut it down, SHUT IT DOWN!

At the mention of Walmart, Mr. Fab had to dash. Mom and “Holly” weren’t far behind, not because of Walmart, but because the racks were now bare and Mom was about to gnaw her left arm off as she was starving. As for me, I just chalked it up to yet another adventure, drove home and collapsed after walking and feeding Himself. He didn’t give a bone what I’d been through.

When reviewing yesterday, I’ve come to several conclusions. Mom needed to talk and I listened. Next time, I’m charging for it. Mr. Fabulous is always in a good mood. “Holly” had a big time.  I’m keeping my fashion secrets to myself. And am rethinking dog marriage; he’s like the others, just wants to be fed. Thank God, sex is not in the equation.

Some adventures aren’t all they are cracked up to be. And a lot of people are cracked.

Be happy. It’s a choice.

Later.

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.

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.

Fall TV Lineup: Shake, Shake, Shake

As CEO and Chief Programmer of the IBN (Izziedarling Broadcast Network), I’ve compiled my lineup for the 2010 Fall TV Season. No new shows necessary. We just need to recycle and apply some Law & Order to the lineup. Because I have entirely too much time on my hands, I’ve devised a little list of who goes where. “Why” should be fairly obvious. If you watch tv. And have too much time on your hands… the arrows (->) indicate where everyone should go.  Straight line and library voices, please.

  • America’s Next Top Model -> Bones -> Ghost Hunters
  • 19 & Counting -> Big Bang Theory ->Hoarders
  • The Bachelor -> Flipping Out -> The Mentalist
  • Housewives of New Jersey -> Criminal Minds -> Modern Family
  • Wife Swap -> Divorce Court-> Millionaire Matchmaker
  • Whale Wars -> The Biggest Loser -> Thintervention with Jackie Warner
  • Dating in the Dark -> Losing It with Jillian -> Big Brother
  • Curb Your Enthusiasm -> The Marriage Ref -> Survivor
  • Cupcake Wars -> Chopped -> Hell’s Kitchen
  • Bachelor Pad -> Jersey Shore -> LA Ink and WEEDS
  • So You Think You Can Dance? -> A Minute to Win It -> Wipeout
  • Teen Mom -> Real World -> Lie to Me
  • The Kardashians -> Gene Simmons Family Jewels -> Last Comic Standing
  • Monsterquest -> Bridezillas-> Rescue Me

Once all cast members have made their rounds, everyone must head to PSYCH for Intervention. At the end of this season, you will each receive a … Burn Notice.

This could be entertaining …

Later.

Are You KIDDING Me?

Am pretty sure I’m going insane. Before I go, there is something I’d like to get off my chest. Normally, I don’t know that I’d give this thought a thought; under self-induced house arrest for the past two weeks, well, I’ve made my life crazy and small.  Just for today, I wish I were someone else. So if you don’t agree with me, blame it her/him/it. Rock, paper, scissors. Whatever.

  • Am I an idiot because I don’t understand the “historic significance” of President Obama appearing on “The View” tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, I like Whoopi and some of her gang. But I don’t understand all the self-promotion of this upcoming show; it is not the Second Coming. To make matters worse, poor Barbara Walters is leaving her sickbed to be on hand for the Big Event. I would think, hope, pray that our President would have a million more important items on his agenda for tomorrow before he’d get to #1,000,001- Appear on daytime tv talk show. 

Whirled peas, my ass! Off to watch paint peel…

Later.

Who Are You & How Can You Do This?

 

 

Last night, I watched Boston Med, ABC’s new medical reality docu/drama. I thought it was excellent … and disturbing.  One of the stories told was that of Marvin Pollet, a 55-year old man from Louisiana.  He suffered from amloidosis, a protein disorder that can attack vital organs.  If the heart comes under attack, cardiac failure can occur.  And so it did, in Marvin. His cardiologist at Mass Gen was Dr. Kimberly Parks.  Apparently, Marvin was scheduled to see Dr. Parks three weeks earlier but an alleged insurance snafu delayed his visit. He desperately needed a heart transplant, but he had to get to Mass Gen to be evaluated in order to be put on the transplant list.  He lost three weeks, his health deteriorated rapidly, and despite Dr. Park’s determination to save his life, he went into cardiac failure and died before a donor could be found.

What I find so disturbing is the insurance link in his tale. There are too many Marvin stories in this country. People who pay for health care only to find that if they become very ill, it’s a “too bad, so sad” situation. Insurance declined. Insurance Company says, “No”. The ridiculous maze of hoops we must jump through, just to get a portion of health care we pay dearly for, could also be cause for cardiac arrest. If you are very wealthy, a public figure, or a celebrity, well, you’re golden. For the rest of us, unless we hit a goldmine, the pot at the end of our rainbow reads, RIP, Insurance was Declined.

Who sits on these health insurance death squad committees? You know, the statistics gang who will decide whether you and I live or die someday? Any day? Is this a vaunted position? What are your credentials, seriously? Is it easy to sentence people to death because they are just names on paper? How does it feel to bankrupt Average Joe? Now he sits in his house that has been foreclosed on because his medical bills took him to the bank and closed his account. Do you get paid big bucks to let people die? How does it feel to know that you have, in your special way, contributed to the ruination/end of an untold number of lives?  Every Single Day. Sleep well? Hope not.  Just sayin’…

Later.

Home Sweat Home

   

  

No, I didn’t misspell “Sweet” in the headline.  Just returned from the BEST vacation (much more on this later); it is 100-degrees in the shade here.  I don’t care because I’m so blissed out, nothing is going to pop my happy balloon. Re-entry  usually makes me seriously grumpy. But not this time…..  

  • After my plane landed, I headed to the taxi stand. Once settled inside my ride, the teenage(?) driver took off at warp speed. So fast my hair blew back and my hair is very short;I believe the polite word for it is “gamine”. Teen  driver was multi-tasking; he had the accelerator pushed to the floor as he tried to punch my address into that talking direction box thing while squirting Eau de Reek throughout the vehicle.  His typing skills were nil so I was spelling v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y and LOUDLY.  I determined, from what I could understand, that he’d just come from Lebanon via Iraq because his uncle, the real taxi driver, had a bad back. While flying from side to side in the wildly careening cab, I began texting my family and friends about making my funeral arrangements as my demise was imminent. But God is good;we screeched to a halt in front of my home in about 20 minutes.  The airport is a good 45-minute drive when there is no traffic.  That’ll be $80, which I gladly paid in return for my life.
  • Surprise!  College Girl was at the house.  We had a brief happy reunion.  Then she said, “You have no food”.  Too happy to be snarky, I pointed her toward the grocery store and gave her a push.
  • Went to check voicemail.  Several “Are you ok?”messages.  How does anyone know about that taxi ride yet?  Well, they didn’t. Apparently lightning had its way with a number of homes around me – four across the courtyard, six behind me.  All completely toasted. Horrible but no one injured. I was damn lucky to be alive AND have a bed to fall into.
  • Cooper’s boarding school called bright and early the next morning with a plea for me to fetch him.  Lisa, the Principal, told me he was a “talker”, he doesn’t like dogs but he does like people.  Because he thinks he’s a person. So he spent a week bitching in his own special way about his accommodations.  Glad to see him go, they were.
  • Returned home to an email from Miss Peach.  She is tired and needs a check she left with me deposited into her account. SHE IS ON A GREEK ISLAND. And apparently out of moolala. Whatever. So I found her check, promptly lost it, and had to email her dad to stop payment, blah, blah, blah. After losing everything but my head while traveling with Cowgirl, she suggested I might have a spot of ADD.  Am beginning to think she’s right, and spot is just a drop in my ADD bucket.  Still blissful.
  • Finally got to spend quality time with my cooking partner.  As we were strolling the grocery store aisles, I asked him about the upcoming holiday. You know, plans and stuff.  He has them; he and his buddy are in a marathon fishing tournament. In a place where fish live.  Which would not be here. My bliss turned to piss briefly, then I regained my composure. I am still alive and have a bed to fall into and a dog who thinks he’s a person.  All good. Plus, there’s a nasty tropical storm brewing near the Gulf AND the fish are likely escapees from the oil spill which = inedible. Hope that storm stays away and fish migrate from California … but you never know.

So, to wrap this ramble up, the bliss remains … despite family medical scares (everyone is fine), fire and brimstone, Fourth of Stinking July fishing tournaments, and a dog who is applying for his SSN#.  I didn’t watch a second of television for a week (bliss!) …only to find out that a very bad boy tried to sell his “used” mother on eBay AND that rancid slice of bologna, Jake the Bachelor, split from his fake fiancée AND allegedly drew back his fist to punch her during an interview.  Enough!  

Cooper and I are going to sit in the refrigerator and cool off …. 

 Later.