How to Stay Alive, So Far

Warning: the photo at end of this includes a word that some might find offensive. So sue me.

I will tell the story of the past 48 hours when later. Maybe. Have just two words for you : BE CAREFUL.

Despite the fact that I’ve always lived in nice places and have behaved myself sometimes, I’ve been a witness in a murder trial, thrown in the back of a car by two men (they were saving me from rapist), and almost shot while having a cocktail. I repeat, my lifestyle isn’t sketchy.

Night before last, a young woman was shot to death in her car. Within walking distance of my home. It is so tragic.

Already in possession of a serious alarm system, locked gates, a butcher knife by my bed, other accoutrement, and a ferocious dog, I’ve been forced to take things one step further. (Ferocious dog has hot spots, vet said to put him in baby t-shirt. I don’t have any baby t-shirts so Ferocious is wearing a smocked dress my eldest wore when she was three months old. Not very off-putting to criminals; dog won’t look at me). So, I have posted the following statement on all doors….

Here’s hoping criminals can read. And that the police find the %$#$ who killed an innocent woman. Very soon.

Pissed. Off to terror management.

Later. Hopefully.

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Pink Balls, Lame Line, SIRI Sucks and Other Stuff

Happy New Year! Whew, it’s crazy around here. Crazy good, but crazy nonetheless.

Where to start …

I think it was last Tuesday when I got a cool new part-time job and an order for 12 giant pink balls for an upcoming event (I design decorations/side business). The new gig has nothing to do with balls. Rah. So, I’ve been working my balls fingers off to get order ready and have a life. No complaints, just tired. So here’s me:

Balls!

No balls, after hours

Everything is running smoothly as I have an amazing assistant who is 100% involved in making life easy around here:

After my beauty rest, I'll get back to you, Iz

 Moving on. In the Lame Line department … ok, so here’s the back story. Tomorrow is THE football game of life. Around these parts, anyway. Made a mad dash to my dad’s man cave to swipe some of his Alabama gear to wear to a party. Said party will be 99% lsu fans. I must represent as my birth occurred a few hours before he had to fly with the team to play Rice. Focus, Izzie. Okay, so I’m on my way home and stop by Whole Foods to get some coffee. Note: I am dressed in leggings, a little t-shirt, an Alabama football cap, and my “Take Me Seriously” glasses. As I approach the coffee aisle, a man with hair on his head and the Holy Bible in his cart stops me.

Hair/Bible Man: ” Do you work here?”

Moi: Do I look like I work here?”

Blind/Hair/Bible Man: “Yes, yes you do.”

Moi: “But I’m thismany years old!”
Weirdo/Blind/Hair/Bible Man: “Well, I’m 75!”

Before I could self-edit,Bullshit!” flew out of my mouth, accompanied by, So is my mother!” Such  comments should deter anyone from trying to continue a conversation, but no. Methinks he mistook my “Take Me Seriously” glasses for “Take Me, Seriously” specs. Meh! Fey! Yech! And to think I’m on the highway to hell for weirdo verbage with a hair man carting the Holy Bible while trying to pick up bespectacled chicks hens at Whole Foods. Just another day in paradise …..

Before I dash, must address SIRI, the worst personal assistant via iPhone 4S. SIRI is a bitch. To me. I asked her why she is so passive-aggressive. Her response, “I don’t know what you are talking about“. See, totally passive-aggressive. I asked her to sing a song – she’s so lame, I got “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do“. Really, SIRI, is that your best shot? Her response, “I aim to please.” Am quite sure she’s much nicer to others and it is totally weird to verbally spar with my cell phone BUT I am paying her salary, really. Bitch.

This photo of my assistant sums it all up – whatever “it” is:

Fill my trough and get lost, you nutty broad!

Be happy. Or not. It’s a choice.

ROLL TIDE!

Later. Or not.

P.S. Any misspelled words and format fails are the fault of SIRI. So sue me.

Can’t Touch This & a Book List

Ok, everyone is crazy. Your crazy may or may not be my kind of crazy. I just reviewed the search terms some people have used to find this locale lately. Wow. I can say with certainty, these folks are Not My Kind of Crazy (NMKC). And a few have a real struggle spelling. And a few others are clearly insane. You decide:

  • “I’m so hungry I could eat a hores” – assuming you meant “horse” and we don’t eat those here
  • Hours in a dress spanking” sounds most uncomfortable and s-t-r-a-n-g-e
  • Droll chicken” have yet to encounter an amusingly odd chicken but I like the reference to “droll” because it sounds so Oscar Wilde
  • Dentist crowns my mouth pantyhose” just gonna jump right out and say that mouth and pantyhose do not belong together, period
  • What does it mean when a fox poops on your doorstep?”it means a fox pooped on your doorstep
  • Grandma in her coffin” while this is sick freak material, a mandatory Halloween hall pass has been issued
  • I am not an ATM” nor am I
  • Starling poops on your head” wash hair ASAP
  • “Two trees chasing a dog” WTH?
  • When we go down, we go down fighting” ok
  • “Madame Poot”sorry, NMKC
  • Throw some water on me” ok
  • “Good looks a factor in love”bet you are deep as a pie pan
  • Is Temple St. Clair a bitch?” she designs the most beautiful jewelry ever, am clueless regarding her temperament

ENOUGH. Let’s talk books! Have been reading more lately – rah!

  • Already Home by Susan Mallery – read this in advance uncorrected proof version, usually don’t read this sort of book but it was good!
  • Inspirations, Selections from Classic Literature by Paulo Coelho – still reading, good
  • It’s All About the Dress by Vicky Tiel – still reading only because I’ve yet to find out about the damn dress; someone forgot to spellcheck as well as write about anything other than 1960’s celebrities
  • Apologize, Apologize by Elizabeth Kelly – will start on this one as soon as I find out about damn dress (see above)
  • shift happens! by Robert Holden – really liked what he had to say

Dashing. Be happy. Your choice.

Later.

Why I Love Letters & Quotes

 

 I love letters. I love letters because when put together, they sometimes explain so much about life. To me, at least. Have always been a “quote” collector; some people can just explain everything better than I can at any moment in time.

Scouring my bookshelves this afternoon, I found a book of quotes my dear friend gave me in 1980. I’d been looking for another book for an explanation of some experiences that keep repeating themselves. I found that too, but this 30-year old treasure has plenty of  relevant material as well. Let the sharing begin:

  • “What is said drunk has been thought out beforehand.”
  • “The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.”
  • “Nothing is so strong as gentleness; nothing is so gentle as real strength.”
  • “Never play leapfrog with a unicorn.”
  • “There is no such thing as a little garlic.”
  • “Never sleep with anyone crazier than yourself.”
  • “Don’t see all you see and don’t hear all you hear.”

That last quote is pertinent to my experiences this week. Lots of commotion, talks about friendship, and realizations about some personal relationships. In an article written in the March 2010 issue of O Magazine, author Paige Williams wrote about “Friendship Detox”. She listed some great pointers regarding friends vs. frenemies, keeping in mind that “friendship is about collaboration, not domination.” If you have some funky relationships or nine, Williams says to ask yourself:

  1. Do you look forward to seeing this person or is it a chore?”
  2. “Is she truly happy to see you, or do you suspect she wants something from you or needs to lord something over you?”
  3. “Will you walk away from this meeting feeling good – or manipulated, demeaned, poisoned, or played?”

That is some brain munch, and most necessary at times. Other related quotes popped up, like, “There’s a special place in hell for women who do not help other women,” from the mouth of Madeleine Albright (!). My take on the whole frenemy thing – never complain to – or trust – a faux friend. Leaving this topic with a quote from my mom, “Some people are about as deep as a pie pan.” And we:’re walking …..

  • “If you don’t throw it, they can’t hit it.”
  • “Never let the bottom of your purse or your mind be seen.”
  • “A narrow mind has a broad tongue.”
  • “When it comes to helping you, some people stop at nothing.”
  • “It is the cracked ones that let the light through.”
  • “Don’t complain, don’t explain.”
  • “Opportunity at every door knocketh, but it has never been known to pick a lock.”
  • “Turn a frown upside down and all the frown juice will fall out.”
  • “If you have to ask what “jazz”is, you will never know.”
  • “Never put off ’til tomorrow what you can get by with not doing at all.”

That’s all I have for today, folks! I’m positive you have some good ones. Share!

Happy Weekend. Over and out.

Later.

When the Clock Goes Crazy…

 

 

*This post is not sad, sorry, or whiney; crazy, yes. Anything else, not so much.*

Truth is stranger than fiction. I don’t know if you have a “clock” thing, but I do. I don’t wear a watch just because. When I do look at a clock – in the car, at home, wherever – nine times out of ten, it reads, “11:11“. I have a clock that belonged to my grandmother; it works, but always stops at the time of her death, no matter what. I just use it as an accessory. Unwound. It has been my experience, when a clock goes crazy, so goes everything else.

Last Friday, I noticed the enormous clock in my kitchen was crazy. Twenty minutes behind, then an hour ahead. I didn’t even think about the clock crazies. It can be good crazy, bad crazy, mixed crazy – but crazy, regardless. Sort of like me. Sharing:

  • My family of origin has been playing hospital tag for the past year. I’d planned on going to the farmer’s market Saturday morning.  Instead, was sitting in the ER. Hollering, “MORE MORPHINE, NURSE HOLLY”, as the patient was in severe pain. She was very accommodating. We are the Loud Family. I noticed there were four people in the room across from ours. And only the nurse was speaking. Being the Nosy Otis I am, I looked in there; everyone in the room was signing. How do you scream, “morphine”, in sign language? Before I pushed my bossy self in “to help”, a patient advocate appeared and all was well. In that room.

 

  • Ok, so Mother’s Day Brunch was not happening. Miss Peach (eldest daughter) and I went to the hospital. Where I got to storm the nurses’ station, with the same request, “MORE MORPHINE, NURSE HOLLIE”. Two nurses, same name … what are the chances? Peach and I left, picked up some food, and came home. Then a crazy beautiful bouquet of flowers are delivered to my door. On Sunday. From Miss Peach. Love. But Miss Peach says they are wrong. They look right to me. Then I get a text from McPaddie’s beau. McPaddie is youngest, texting, calling, emailing me love bombs from the basement of her house where she is trying to finish last project for graduation. Bless her bones. Her beau’s message was also crazy beautiful – to a mother’s eyes. It said, “Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for McPaddie“. Crazy good. Love my girls. Went to bed at 4 pm.

 

  • Morphine. Cowgirl explained hospital morphine to me; apparently it is diluted somewhat – not pure. So you can ask for it a lot. Good to know.

 

  • Monday was Pro Flowers Day. I called customer service, told them the arrangement wasn’t what Peach ordered; they were lovely and another bouquet was on the way.

 

  • Tuesday was big crazy. Patient to be released from hospital, no diagnosis, but no pain. Rah!? I get to go to see Lien. She makes my hair look amazing – even though it is not amazing as I am growing it out. Last month, I looked like Justin Bieber before he cut his hair. When I got to her salon, she seemed fine. She had to excuse herself, mid-cut, for about 20 minutes. I think she’s preggers. For the first time ever, she phoned in the hair. I left looking like Dan Fogelberg (RIP!). A tall, skinny, white woman does not look good with Justin or Dan hair. That’s ok, she wants to be pregnant and I can wear a baseball cap for three more months (her estimate).

 

  • Am failing mightily at this housekeeping thing. So today I walked into my dry cleaners/wash-n-fold for the first time in two years and handed over the laundry pile. Standing behind the counter is my favorite friend, Pung. She screamed, “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Pung and I have history. We have laughed a lot, we’ve cried together, I love her. Crazy good reunion. She wants to get pregnant, too. What is in the air?

 

  • Ding Dong. Pro Flower delivery. Open that big green box up and … oops, not what Peach ordered. Got back on the phone with customer service (they are so nice). And another bouquet is on the way. If this continues, my house is going to resemble a funeral parlour. Not complaining. I love flowers. So, crazy good because Pro Flowers has excellent customer service. Taking extras to patient’s home. Win-win.

In between, my friend sent me a great piece of writing I love by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. She’s very cool and I feel good when I read her writing. Am also reading essays by Regina Brett and enjoying her writing thoroughly. Am thoroughly pissed off at Angry Birds Rio/Rovio/Apple/Blue Sky Productions/ Chillingo because the promised May update hasn’t appeared. So I guess that makes me an angry bird.

I must go as I am very busy. I must pray for family health, great friends, babies for Lien and Pung, deliver flowers, take the damn clock off the wall, and remember to be thankful for good crazy, healers, calm during storms, good writers, amazing daughters, baseball caps, and anything else I will remember after I push the Publish button.

Favorite quote today: “If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come” (Chinese proverb)

Off to mop the kitchen floor. Tomorrow. Maybe. Or not.

Later.

Are You Superstitious? Part 13

 

Parts 2-12 do not exist. But if you  are superstitious about that number, you can call it, Part 2. Am currently wearing a press-on device, $7, guaranteed to give me a brow lift in one hour. Which would be proof that I’d believe anything … including superstitions, except for the following:

  • “Wear your underwear inside out for good luck.” Trust me here, if you turn that frown upside down with inside out panties, you will NOT get lucky. And you might be drunk.
  • “A dog chasing its tail brings tornadoes.” No, no, no! Rabies? Yes. Tornadoes? NO! Rabid Luck … or drunk dog.
  • If you have a hole in your jeans, you will have a visitor.” Especially if the hole is in front of your privacy. A bit too “come and get it” for me.
  • “Eating a hair from a horse’s forelock is a cure for worms”. Let’s think about this. If you have worms, you are either dead or sick – if the latter, go to the damn doctor. If you can’t find a doctor and think this horsehair/forelock thing is the way to go, please wear a helmet. This is a recipe for a head injury, indigestion, and an isolation unit until the end of time.
  • “A cat onboard a ship is considered good luck.” Well, double duh and slap me silly. Of course a cat on a ship is good BECAUSE of all the rats on the ship. Purr Luck.
  • “Never bring a hoe in your house.” Especially if you can’t spell and you are a married man. Bad juju.
  • “If you drop a dishtowel on the floor, a worse housekeeper that yourself is coming to visit you.” Not. Possible. At. My. House. Dirty luck.
  • “If you sleep with a teabag tied around your head, you are an idiot”. ‘Nuff said here.

Must dash off to the store. The one hour, $7 brow lift worked! It lifted every piece of skin, from brow to scalp, right off the front of my face. As my skull is exposed, I either need to tie a pirate bandana (arrghhhh!) around my head for 4-6 months or find a perky, come hither, man magnet skull-cap. Ta Ta For Now!

Later.

Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got A Lovely ……

 

If you are easily offended, please do not read this post; come back another day. You have been warned. 🙂

Got an email a couple of weeks ago that promised to make me laugh. All I had to do was watch the You Tube video. It features part of a BBC show, apparently about the Brown family. When the title is, “Mrs. Brown Gets A Bikini Wax“. I love British humor; despite the fact that “bikini wax” in the title is a bit much, of course I looked it up and watched. And laughed my self silly. Should you need a good laugh and are a bit twisty, please watch it to the very end. You can find it here:

I’m a link loser so just go straight to You Tube and type in the show title. Oh, don’t complain, like that’s a bunch of trouble.

Speaking of losing, since I have taken on the odious chore of cleaning my house, I have found lots of surprises. Each day I discover something amiss. Today, it was the shower door.  Most of the time, I shower downstairs. My shower exerts as much pressure as a new-born baby. But I was in a hurry. Have worn glasses for about a month. Looked at the shower door, which is all glass, as I got in. It had been cleaned with a Brillo pad and looks like a cat with metal claws went into a glass-slashing frenzy. Who in their right mind would do that?

Delving into my kitchen cabinets, I found all sorts of cutlery and dishes that were obviously removed from the dishwasher and put away – but the dishwasher was never used. GROSS.

Later, I went to my liquor cabinet. Never go there unless I’m having company … and happy pills treat me much better than moonshine. When I opened the door, I saw a slew of empty bottles: tequila, scotch, bourbon, gin, vodka. Of course, my first thought went to my girls. Wrong. They are of age and live elsewhere. Who in the world drained all the liquor bottles?

I pondered these mysteries while walking Cooper earlier. And ran into my friend, E. We chatted and I complained about house cleaning, glass slashing and the missing adult beverage material. She gave me a look that said, “HELLO!” I always wondered why my former house helper had a hard time getting to her car at the end of the day. And that also explains the glass door mess, the dishwasher that wasn’t allowed to do its job, and all the gouges in my walls and woodwork.  There was a cocktail party, attended by one, every week at mi casa. God knows, house cleaning is wretched, but get drunk after work, like everybody else.

Dumber than a bag of hammers, I am was. I once was blind but now I have glasses. Which I accidentally wore into the shower today. Whatev.

Off to bed now as I must get up at three a.m. to attend the Royal Wedding. I wonder if Mrs. Brown was invited?

 Nighty Noodles.

Later.

*Not a peep from Ms. DeGeneres … yet. 😦