Shaken, Not Stirred

After a devastatingly emotional 2018, I chose to make this year exceptional. Haven’t changed my mind one iota despite the ridiculous situations I continue to jump into feet first!

A handsome man recently came after me like a house on fire. He wasn’t 32 or 102 (the norm) but my age. I was busy as 17 bees and traveling, so the first few weeks were filled with relentless texts and phone calls. I can flirt with the best of them, but when posed HIMSELFIES started arriving, I was not amused – not my jam. Requests for me to send him photos were ignored (dude, we know what we look like, gah!)

Think Jon Hamm in “Bridesmaids”. I told him he was scaring me. He flipped the script to tell me I was attracted to him and scared of loosing (sic) control. Not so much, bud. But I was trying to be nice and agreed to meet him for coffee ( easy, fast, escapable). Dios mio!

One hour spent listening to how uber fabulous he was and all his recent -and stupid- first and last dates made my brains boil. I have no poker face so I’m positive my only thought resonated through my pores (kill me now).

Upon leaving, he asked if I wanted to go out again. I said “yes” but thought “oh, hell no”. When I returned to my office, there was already a text. “Did you have fun?” “Yes, did you?” (Please say no, please!). “I did, yes. You are a smart smart ass.” WHAT? “Mon dieu- not a very nice thing to be”. And then, he says, “I believe it is”. Thank you, AT&T, iPhone, and all the powers that be, I immediately blocked the narcissist and HIMSELFIES till pigs fly. Silence speaks volumes. Guess his ginormous ego keeps him warm and cozy at night. Good grief, things can only get better from here (crossing fingers).

Thank U, Next

Later. Cheers!

My Skirt Fell Off In Parking Garage

* 5 years ago … It happened again. Different skirt, different lot. Meh!

As I was walking from my office to my car, my skirt hit the concrete.  I remained upright, standing there in front of God and everybody, in my top and underwear. I do not have a tan – on purpose, but I sure could have used one at that moment.  My legs look like abnormally long pieces of packaged chicken. Read: white.  Did have on nice underwear, but it just doesn’t compensate for the lack of skin color – in daylight.  Couldn’t grab the demon garment  because I was holding boards.  The wooden kind. Ignored the horrified screaming and running of garage mates and finally managed to pull that sucker up under my arms.  And took my boards to the post office to mail them.

Who mails boards? As in not- too- long- but- sorta- heavy boards?  Interior designers, that’s who.  I’m not a designer, I am the office ODDJOB.  Without the razor-brimmed hat.  My areas of expertise are research (“Here’s a picture of a painting.  We need to know who the artist is.  There is no information, no caption, no nothing, don’t even know when or where the picture of painting came from. Go!” I found artist and a silkscreen of painting to purchase in 30 minutes), food choices (“Everyone is dieting but I still think we should get a cake, should we get a cake?” Get the cake. Am genius), and mailing boards.

Had to stick my stomach out to keep skirt on in post office.  Happy foreign man says, “You want to mail boards?”.  I said indeed I did and the cost must be under $100.  He started laughing and speaking to himself in his native tongue. Am thinking that means cost will be well over the budget. Skirting the details,I return to office with humble, sad face.  Walked into designers bull pen, looking for my boss to tell her about expense.  That damn skirt went south again. My colleagues, all women, were nonplussed; they are used to my wardrobe malfunctions.  Paper-clipped skirt top to underwear and called it a day.

Did I mention I live in the city located just on the outskirts of  Hell?  Where it is 81-degrees at 7 a.m.? This morsel of info is only necessary because sweats are not clothing here, sweats are a perpetual state of the body.  Every body.  So skirt slippage was heat-related. As evening approaches, it is a brisk 80-degrees inside my house; the a/c is working its ass(?) off, making the same sounds that pierce the air when empty cans are put in dryer and dryer is turned on high. War zone ambience. Trying to relax and cool down.

Turn on the computer and get some news.  Apparently bird doo facials are all the rage in NYC; you, too, can have one for $180. So “Emperor’s New Clothes”, I can’t even wrap this.  My mind is grinding, so I’ll throw out an offer for bird poop facial aficionados …. you are most welcome to sit on my patio – all day long – for $10; you will be delighted by all the bird bombs that cover your entire self.  There is only one catch … bring earplugs… the a/c sound might disturb your bliss.  Come early and stay late.

Don’t even think I”m complaining, I’m not.  Based on what I read, hear, and see, I am beyond lucky.  If anyone needs a skirt fail, a scary loud a/c, a poop facial provided by numerous regional birds, and/or  boards mailings, you know where to look.

*P.S.  Always wear nice underwear, even if you aren’t riding in the car … you never know ….. just saying.

Later.  If I don’t melt…

Calling Elie Saab …

Dear Elie Saab,

I love this dress and would really like to wear it at my daughter’s wedding. Here’s the problem – I can’t find it anywhere and if I did find it I couldn’t afford it so I am in a pickle. Now, you know it’s not this season – which makes it much less valuable – and – I promise I will wear it well AND tell everyone what an amazing designer you are. See – win/win! Thank you, in advance, for the dress. We will talk specifics when you contact me. Hugs and kisses,

Izzie Darling

You Might Be A Cockroach If ….

Good grief, I’ve been AWOL and I hate it! My tiny brain is exploding; working on a project that requires my absolute focus. Love the project but am in word bankruptcy as a result. Anywho, my two favorite quotes this week:

“If you step on people in this life, you’re going to come back as a cockroach.”

Willie Davis

“Why not upset the apple cart? If you don’t, the apples are going to rot anyway.”

Frank Clark

Hope all is peachy with you! Really!

Be happy. Your choice.

Later.

My Not-So-Stange Addiction

Pinterest.

Yep, I’m addicted.

I resisted for as long as I could. I was turned off by having to “request an invitation” to participate. Got over my snarky self, pressed the request button. Got my “invitation” shortly thereafter and my addiction was instantaneous.

For me, Pinterest is like this amazingly magical treasure chest. And I can’t control my addiction because there are so many beautiful images, great tips, hilarious words … well, something for everyone. Creativity and beyond …..

Oh my, I must go back there right this minute. Might miss exactly what I’m looking for. Even though I have no idea what I’m looking for which is par for my course.

You can follow me there – Izzie Darling, duh. Check my boards. You might find something you are looking for. Or not.

Happiness is a choice.

Later.

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.