My friend Carol's 95 year old mother died a couple of weeks ago. She was more than likely born in a home with no electricity, no phones, no television and certainly no internet machine. When someone born in that era dies, I always marvel at what they have seen and done in their lives. Undoubtedly, she lived in an era of the most prolific technological advancements in the history of the world.
Two years ago today Betty left us. She was 83. Calvin Coolidge was President of the United States when she was born and she, too, was born in a house with no electricity. When she was growing up there was one person in their small town that had a car. She didn't live in a house with electricity or running water until she moved to Dallas after high school. She learned to type on an old Remington. She learned to drive a car in the 1950's. She learned to sew on her grandmother's pedal Singer. She listened to President Roosevelt proclaiming war in 1941 on a radio at "the rich people's" house. She and Charles went on their honeymoon on a Greyhound Bus.
In her life she saw the inventions of so many things. She saw a man walk on the moon. She and Charles took vacations on Airplanes. She learned to use a computer (kind of) at work. She started taking pictures on a "Brownie" and took digital pictures at the end of her life. But there is no question that the greatest invention for Betty was the telephone!!! She went from talking on a "party line", to a pay phone, to a rotary phone, to a touchtone phone to finally a cordless phone. She couldn't quite get the cell phone. She talked on one, but she couldn't figure out how to dial it. The telephone was Betty's fourth child. She loved that child!! She could talk for hours and hours and hours and hours. Betty would not have had the life she had without a phone. If Alexander Graham Bell hadn't invented that "talk box", Betty's life would have been so different. And quieter.
In the two years since she's been gone, there has been so much that she has missed. In two short years so many things have happened in our world. Thankfully she missed the economy tanking. Thankfully she did not have to keep up with the Kardashians. And certainly she should be very happy that she has missed The Jersey Shore.
So, on this anniversary of her death, I would so love to call her and tell her how much I miss her and love her. And then, I would put the phone on speaker while she would go on and on and on about all the people she's seen since she's been gone. Which then would awkwardly segue into how messy I am keeping her house and how much work needs to be done in the yard.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Real Politicians of the U.S.A.
In my old age, I have become quite the political junkie. In a nutshell, I hate all politicians, and yet, like the Housewives of (name a city), I can't get enough of them. It amazes me that the men and women that we trust with our lives and livelyhoods act like immature children. Politics, to them, is a game. And guess what? We, the people, LOSE!!!
The big game now is the Presidential nomination of the Republican party. And, as you know, I am NOT a Republican, however, this is a good one. This has given me enjoyment for several months, and I am hoping it continues until they select one of the buffoons to run against President Obama. For those of you who are not so politically inclined (and I don't blame you) here is a run down of all the Republican candidates:
And we begin with:
Former Governor and J.C. Penney model, Willard "Mitt" Romney: Oh Willard, Willard, Willard. They all hate you. The Tea Party hates you. The Republican establishment (i.e. The Bushes, et al) hates you. Only 23% of Republicans like you. And they only like you because everyone else is a idiot. Poor Willard, you flip flop more than Mary Lou Retton. You will probably win the nomination, but you are like the icky uncool good looking guy in high school - we vote for you for Homecoming King because you are good looking and haven't done anything interesting enough to offend anybody.
Former Governor and the other white Mormon, Jon Huntsman: Well, Jon, it might be time to bow out. You poll so low that some people don't even put you in polls. You are the most sensible and "normal" of all the candidates, and I have to say, I wouldn't worry about anything if you were to be President... except that you want to repeal the Healthcare Bill and you are Anti-Choice and you are against Gay Marriage. Okay, I would be worried. But you are sensible and "normal". Thus, you are about 3% in the polls. And Jon, you have no chance at a Vice Presidential nomination - a) you're a Mormon, b) you worked in the Obama Administration and c) you are sensible and "normal", so bow out now before you become desperate and start saying insane things.
Congresswoman, Michelle O'Bachman: CRAZY!!! You had your 1 week in the sun,and then the country discovered that you are an absolutely insane and embarrassingly out-of-touch woman. Now you poll at about 5%. (Still ahead of Huntsman, who is....sensible and "normal".) It would be interesting, however, to have your husband be First Lady.
Congressman, Ron Paul: Well, Ron, you're nuts, but you are consistent.
Former Senator and Hater of All Things, Rick Santorum: You are such a "hater". You hate gays, women and poor people. But at least you're a Christian, and not one of those "cultist" Mormons!!!! (And once again, please "google" his name).
Former Speaker of the House and Fat Head, Newt Gingrich: Oh Newt, why are you here? You are so unappealing. Republicans (mainly yourself) think you are a political Einstein. Reminder, you were thrown out of Congress for Ethics violations and you divorced your wife and cheated on her while she was in the hospital bed with cancer.
Texas Governor, Dick Perry: And once again, you had your 1 week in the sun, and you got burned. The country has learned a) you can not talk b) you actually are sensible about immigration and c) you are not as smart as George W, but you are twice as hateful and mean. And that wife of yours - that girl will CUT YOU!
But we are not going to count you out - you are mean and unscrupulous, thus perfect for Republican Politics!
And finally, Former Godfather's Pizza CEO, Herman Cain. HOLY CRAP, Pizza Man, you are leading in the polls!!!! Seriously?????? Hopefully your one week or two in the sun will not end. It's just tooooooo good. Call me old fashioned, but I would like for my President to be educated, informed and experienced. It is confounding that ANYONE even says out loud that they would vote for you. I have three words for you: "Neine, neine, neine!"
And there you have it, Republicans, have at 'em! Sad thing is, at this point all of them could probably beat Obama.
What would Betty say? "They've all got pretty hair!"
The big game now is the Presidential nomination of the Republican party. And, as you know, I am NOT a Republican, however, this is a good one. This has given me enjoyment for several months, and I am hoping it continues until they select one of the buffoons to run against President Obama. For those of you who are not so politically inclined (and I don't blame you) here is a run down of all the Republican candidates:
And we begin with:
Former Governor and J.C. Penney model, Willard "Mitt" Romney: Oh Willard, Willard, Willard. They all hate you. The Tea Party hates you. The Republican establishment (i.e. The Bushes, et al) hates you. Only 23% of Republicans like you. And they only like you because everyone else is a idiot. Poor Willard, you flip flop more than Mary Lou Retton. You will probably win the nomination, but you are like the icky uncool good looking guy in high school - we vote for you for Homecoming King because you are good looking and haven't done anything interesting enough to offend anybody.
Former Governor and the other white Mormon, Jon Huntsman: Well, Jon, it might be time to bow out. You poll so low that some people don't even put you in polls. You are the most sensible and "normal" of all the candidates, and I have to say, I wouldn't worry about anything if you were to be President... except that you want to repeal the Healthcare Bill and you are Anti-Choice and you are against Gay Marriage. Okay, I would be worried. But you are sensible and "normal". Thus, you are about 3% in the polls. And Jon, you have no chance at a Vice Presidential nomination - a) you're a Mormon, b) you worked in the Obama Administration and c) you are sensible and "normal", so bow out now before you become desperate and start saying insane things.
Congresswoman, Michelle O'Bachman: CRAZY!!! You had your 1 week in the sun,and then the country discovered that you are an absolutely insane and embarrassingly out-of-touch woman. Now you poll at about 5%. (Still ahead of Huntsman, who is....sensible and "normal".) It would be interesting, however, to have your husband be First Lady.
Congressman, Ron Paul: Well, Ron, you're nuts, but you are consistent.
Former Senator and Hater of All Things, Rick Santorum: You are such a "hater". You hate gays, women and poor people. But at least you're a Christian, and not one of those "cultist" Mormons!!!! (And once again, please "google" his name).
Former Speaker of the House and Fat Head, Newt Gingrich: Oh Newt, why are you here? You are so unappealing. Republicans (mainly yourself) think you are a political Einstein. Reminder, you were thrown out of Congress for Ethics violations and you divorced your wife and cheated on her while she was in the hospital bed with cancer.
Texas Governor, Dick Perry: And once again, you had your 1 week in the sun, and you got burned. The country has learned a) you can not talk b) you actually are sensible about immigration and c) you are not as smart as George W, but you are twice as hateful and mean. And that wife of yours - that girl will CUT YOU!
But we are not going to count you out - you are mean and unscrupulous, thus perfect for Republican Politics!
And finally, Former Godfather's Pizza CEO, Herman Cain. HOLY CRAP, Pizza Man, you are leading in the polls!!!! Seriously?????? Hopefully your one week or two in the sun will not end. It's just tooooooo good. Call me old fashioned, but I would like for my President to be educated, informed and experienced. It is confounding that ANYONE even says out loud that they would vote for you. I have three words for you: "Neine, neine, neine!"
And there you have it, Republicans, have at 'em! Sad thing is, at this point all of them could probably beat Obama.
What would Betty say? "They've all got pretty hair!"
Thursday, September 15, 2011
'Til Death Us Do....hmmm...I Can't Remember
Well, well, well, it seems that our old friend the Far Right Reverend Pat Robertson has opened his ridiculously inane mouth once again. Remember he is the one that brought us the "facts" that God sent the Earthquake in Haiti because "their deal with the devil". Oh yes, and these nuggets: The gays (especially Ellen DeGeneres) caused Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans AND were the reason the attacks on the World Trade Center happened on 9/11.
Today I read that the Reverend has proclaimed that it is now alright for a Christian to get a divorce if their spouse contracts Alzheimer's Disease. He states that since marriage is to be "until death do us part", Alzheimer's is a death - the person with the disease is dead inside, so therefore, it is okay for the spouse to divorce them and move on with their lives.
Luckily, my 79 year old daughter never married. Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one! She doesn't remember what day it is, but I do think she would remember if she were married, because that schlub would be in her room at "camp" everyday! And if he wasn't, I would have an important part of his anatomy removed. And if he ever thought of divorcing her...well... I don't know what they would do to him in Iowa, but here in Texas....
I wonder what Nancy Reagan has to say about this.
I don't know, but Betty would say: "That is just awful. Charles better be glad that he died before me, 'cause if I went Cuckoo, he'd just be stuck with me!'
Today I read that the Reverend has proclaimed that it is now alright for a Christian to get a divorce if their spouse contracts Alzheimer's Disease. He states that since marriage is to be "until death do us part", Alzheimer's is a death - the person with the disease is dead inside, so therefore, it is okay for the spouse to divorce them and move on with their lives.
Luckily, my 79 year old daughter never married. Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one! She doesn't remember what day it is, but I do think she would remember if she were married, because that schlub would be in her room at "camp" everyday! And if he wasn't, I would have an important part of his anatomy removed. And if he ever thought of divorcing her...well... I don't know what they would do to him in Iowa, but here in Texas....
I wonder what Nancy Reagan has to say about this.
I don't know, but Betty would say: "That is just awful. Charles better be glad that he died before me, 'cause if I went Cuckoo, he'd just be stuck with me!'
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
An Average, Ordinary Kind of Woman
Tomorrow, August 4, would be Betty's 85th birthday. I will be out with my 79 year old daughter tomorrow so I thought I would write about her today. She would like that. She always liked to be talked about. Usually it would be her doing all the talking, but this time I get to.
Little Betty Jo was born to poor farmers right before the Great Depression. Her father was a fun WWI vet with not a lot of ambition. Her mother was a stoic, responsible woman who delivered her mother's baby at the age of 3. Money was always scarce. Food was also so scarce that her little brother, J.T., died from malnutrition. But somehow Betty Jo grew up to love life and always be the bright light in the room.
After her high school graduation she, like thousands of young girls during WWII, fled the farm and headed to the big city. She chose Dallas. She, like thousands, got a job at the only place in town that would hire young, inexperienced women - Sears and Roebuck. It was her "college" experience. She lived in a boarding house in Oak Cliff with the other girls. Lifelong friends she made. Just like my college friends.
She met some boys during her "college" experience. Many boys. She was quite the looker and attracted many young roues that wanted some Betty. One of those, young Charles Howard, was diligent. Today we would call him a "stalker". He would wait outside the boarding house for Betty to come out. He would follow her around town. He finally got the courage to ask her out, and she got sick and had to cancel their first date. (She got the "mumps" from another boyfriend). He still pursued. And pursued. And pursued. She gave in to the Charles and they were married in 1948.
From then on her life was filled with children, work, church and friends. And talking. She was no mystery, that Betty. Everyone that she met knew more about her than they probably wanted to. She would listen long enough to get information to pass on to others. She would talk for hours...and hours... and hours. She sewed, cooked, canned and gardened. She loved history, especially the history of our family. And we have her legacy to keep forever because of it.
Living in her house is bittersweet. I still find pieces of toothpicks (a nasty habit) and loose pills that she dropped on the floor. I look around and see the bad painting job she did on the walls, the curtains she made and all the hideous knick-knacks that she would never throw away. I find bed linens that she had for over 30 years. I look in the yard and see years of work that is all grown up and dying in this 200 degree heat.
But mostly I see her life - all of it. I always say that to be such an ordinary woman, she truly was extraordinary. Obviously, I think she was. I've based my whole blog on her!
So, Happy Birthday, Betty! You still live on in me. And I am everso grateful.
What would Betty say? "A card would have been just fine". And then she would tell me that her nephew was born on her birthday and that the Queen Mother had the same birthday. Then she would go on about how her mother would save money to make her a birthday cake. And then she would segue to some unrelated story about the neighbor across the street who married an older man who just wanted her to take care of him. Which would lead to another story about... well, just about anything.
Little Betty Jo was born to poor farmers right before the Great Depression. Her father was a fun WWI vet with not a lot of ambition. Her mother was a stoic, responsible woman who delivered her mother's baby at the age of 3. Money was always scarce. Food was also so scarce that her little brother, J.T., died from malnutrition. But somehow Betty Jo grew up to love life and always be the bright light in the room.
After her high school graduation she, like thousands of young girls during WWII, fled the farm and headed to the big city. She chose Dallas. She, like thousands, got a job at the only place in town that would hire young, inexperienced women - Sears and Roebuck. It was her "college" experience. She lived in a boarding house in Oak Cliff with the other girls. Lifelong friends she made. Just like my college friends.
She met some boys during her "college" experience. Many boys. She was quite the looker and attracted many young roues that wanted some Betty. One of those, young Charles Howard, was diligent. Today we would call him a "stalker". He would wait outside the boarding house for Betty to come out. He would follow her around town. He finally got the courage to ask her out, and she got sick and had to cancel their first date. (She got the "mumps" from another boyfriend). He still pursued. And pursued. And pursued. She gave in to the Charles and they were married in 1948.
From then on her life was filled with children, work, church and friends. And talking. She was no mystery, that Betty. Everyone that she met knew more about her than they probably wanted to. She would listen long enough to get information to pass on to others. She would talk for hours...and hours... and hours. She sewed, cooked, canned and gardened. She loved history, especially the history of our family. And we have her legacy to keep forever because of it.
Living in her house is bittersweet. I still find pieces of toothpicks (a nasty habit) and loose pills that she dropped on the floor. I look around and see the bad painting job she did on the walls, the curtains she made and all the hideous knick-knacks that she would never throw away. I find bed linens that she had for over 30 years. I look in the yard and see years of work that is all grown up and dying in this 200 degree heat.
But mostly I see her life - all of it. I always say that to be such an ordinary woman, she truly was extraordinary. Obviously, I think she was. I've based my whole blog on her!
So, Happy Birthday, Betty! You still live on in me. And I am everso grateful.
What would Betty say? "A card would have been just fine". And then she would tell me that her nephew was born on her birthday and that the Queen Mother had the same birthday. Then she would go on about how her mother would save money to make her a birthday cake. And then she would segue to some unrelated story about the neighbor across the street who married an older man who just wanted her to take care of him. Which would lead to another story about... well, just about anything.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Hotter Than a Hooker...
Sorry dear readers, It's been a week since my last posts. It's so hot here that my brain has been par-boiled and pealed and made into a Potato Salad. (FYI: Mustard is not in my color palate.) And for some reason my computer has been like scrambled eggs, too.
We have had almost 30 days of over 100 degree heat here. And it's suppose to get hotter next week. All I want to do is lay down and have relations with an ice pack.
Since I had my heat stroke it was has been difficult to be creative. This past week has been semi-uneventful, except for the part where I stood in the front yard in flip flops and a banana hammock and hosed myself down for 3 hours. (Visualize, if you will... the banana hammock was a lovely shade of puce) I have been enthralled and nauseated by this debt ceiling crap. (see post below). And I made a meatloaf. So there's that.
I read about a woman who was kicked out of the Walmarts for wearing a string bikini. I do not know the physique of this woman, but I would more than guess it was not nearly as disgusting and offensive as the 300 lb women who shop in their leggings and crop tops. Just saying. Did I mention I made a meatloaf?
What would Betty say? "You better cover that bald head. You're gonna blister!"
We have had almost 30 days of over 100 degree heat here. And it's suppose to get hotter next week. All I want to do is lay down and have relations with an ice pack.
Since I had my heat stroke it was has been difficult to be creative. This past week has been semi-uneventful, except for the part where I stood in the front yard in flip flops and a banana hammock and hosed myself down for 3 hours. (Visualize, if you will... the banana hammock was a lovely shade of puce) I have been enthralled and nauseated by this debt ceiling crap. (see post below). And I made a meatloaf. So there's that.
I read about a woman who was kicked out of the Walmarts for wearing a string bikini. I do not know the physique of this woman, but I would more than guess it was not nearly as disgusting and offensive as the 300 lb women who shop in their leggings and crop tops. Just saying. Did I mention I made a meatloaf?
What would Betty say? "You better cover that bald head. You're gonna blister!"
It Has Hit The (debt) Ceiling Fan
I am here to proclaim Barack Obama the best Republican President since Saint Ronald Reagan!!!
What? He's a Democrat???? Really?
Once again, the Democrats cave in to the bully Republicans. Isn't he the President of the United States? Supposedly, the most powerful person in the world? Really??? He has to be the worst negotiator on the face of the planet. And by negotiator, I mean giant wuss!!! It all started with the Health Care Plan. He caved by giving away the Universal part of Universal Health Care. But I gave him a break on that because, at least, we got more healthcare reform than any other President in history. And then he caved by extending the Bush Tax rates. No break there, but at least he has another chance when they come to expire again very soon. But this debt ceiling thing.... COME ON! Did he not have the cajones enough to demand that they raise the debt ceiling like they did for Bush, Clinton and Saint Reagan? Or is the Tea Party just crazy and evil enough to smell blood and go in for the kill?
It's times like these that I wish that my primary vote for Hillary Clinton would have counted. Can you imagine how she would have handled this? She would have been Lucy to John Boehner's Charlie Brown. She would have grabbed that metaphorical football from under John Boehner's foot over and over and he would have fallen for it every time. And seniors, military families, people with disabilities and poor children would have never had to worry that they would have the football grabbed from under THEM!
One highlight of this debacle: The self appointed spokesman for the Tea Party, Joe Walsh (no, not that one) from Illinois, won a nomination for Hypocrite of the Year. Seems the "America needs to pay it's bills" screamer owes over $117, 000 in back child support. Pay your own bills, douchebag!
Other than that Mrs. Kennedy, how was Dallas?
What would Betty think? "I never liked Nancy Reagan. She seemed snotty". And then she would go on and on about Bill Clinton and how kids today have oral sex because of him.
What? He's a Democrat???? Really?
Once again, the Democrats cave in to the bully Republicans. Isn't he the President of the United States? Supposedly, the most powerful person in the world? Really??? He has to be the worst negotiator on the face of the planet. And by negotiator, I mean giant wuss!!! It all started with the Health Care Plan. He caved by giving away the Universal part of Universal Health Care. But I gave him a break on that because, at least, we got more healthcare reform than any other President in history. And then he caved by extending the Bush Tax rates. No break there, but at least he has another chance when they come to expire again very soon. But this debt ceiling thing.... COME ON! Did he not have the cajones enough to demand that they raise the debt ceiling like they did for Bush, Clinton and Saint Reagan? Or is the Tea Party just crazy and evil enough to smell blood and go in for the kill?
It's times like these that I wish that my primary vote for Hillary Clinton would have counted. Can you imagine how she would have handled this? She would have been Lucy to John Boehner's Charlie Brown. She would have grabbed that metaphorical football from under John Boehner's foot over and over and he would have fallen for it every time. And seniors, military families, people with disabilities and poor children would have never had to worry that they would have the football grabbed from under THEM!
One highlight of this debacle: The self appointed spokesman for the Tea Party, Joe Walsh (no, not that one) from Illinois, won a nomination for Hypocrite of the Year. Seems the "America needs to pay it's bills" screamer owes over $117, 000 in back child support. Pay your own bills, douchebag!
Other than that Mrs. Kennedy, how was Dallas?
What would Betty think? "I never liked Nancy Reagan. She seemed snotty". And then she would go on and on about Bill Clinton and how kids today have oral sex because of him.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
What's Up, Buuuuuuuuddy?
I am trying something new this weekend. My week in review - things that happened in the world, things that happened to me and/or just things.
In political news: Michelle Bachman has migraines and a husband that has prayed the gay away. She also receives those terrible government funds for her family's Christian Counseling center. Tim Pawlenty is so low in the polls that they don't even include him in the polls anymore. Governor Dick Perry has received the "call". And it wasn't from me. President Obama is ticked (finally) at the Republicans for holding the country hostage.
World News: A psycho tragically reeked havoc on the country of Norway. England is ticked at Rupert Murdoch and the powerful Murdoch-dependent elite are shaking in their boots. In a related story, Rupert Murdoch's wife is a Ninja Warrior. Amy Winehouse died and sadly, the world is not surprised.
In my world: Found a man dropping a log in my 79 year old daughter's bathroom. I had a heat stroke by just opening the front door of my house. I worked a bit trying to finish up my jobs. My dear funny friend, Heather LeRoy, drove across the country to visit me. As punishment, she made me go see Paulie Shore! Even worse, at a comedy club in Addison! My brother and niece had a birthday this week. I am very glad they were spawned.
And finally, today is the day of birth of my bestie, Susan Graham. For those of you who don't know her, she is an international Grammy Award winning Opera Star and I am VERY proud of her. She's been my best since we clandestinely met as Opera Chorus members in college. She has put up with my shit stuck with me through thick and thin (hair). She's a great gal and I will forever be grateful for her and for her letting me ride her coattails. We have experienced some amazing things together. Some we can speak of, and some that shall never be uttered.
Thus ends Betty's son's week of July 17-23, in the year of our lord, 2011.
What would Betty say? "I don't why these old men have to marry these young women. They never can be alone. All they want is a nurse or a purse". And then she would go on about how gray President Obama's hair has gotten since the election.
In political news: Michelle Bachman has migraines and a husband that has prayed the gay away. She also receives those terrible government funds for her family's Christian Counseling center. Tim Pawlenty is so low in the polls that they don't even include him in the polls anymore. Governor Dick Perry has received the "call". And it wasn't from me. President Obama is ticked (finally) at the Republicans for holding the country hostage.
World News: A psycho tragically reeked havoc on the country of Norway. England is ticked at Rupert Murdoch and the powerful Murdoch-dependent elite are shaking in their boots. In a related story, Rupert Murdoch's wife is a Ninja Warrior. Amy Winehouse died and sadly, the world is not surprised.
In my world: Found a man dropping a log in my 79 year old daughter's bathroom. I had a heat stroke by just opening the front door of my house. I worked a bit trying to finish up my jobs. My dear funny friend, Heather LeRoy, drove across the country to visit me. As punishment, she made me go see Paulie Shore! Even worse, at a comedy club in Addison! My brother and niece had a birthday this week. I am very glad they were spawned.
And finally, today is the day of birth of my bestie, Susan Graham. For those of you who don't know her, she is an international Grammy Award winning Opera Star and I am VERY proud of her. She's been my best since we clandestinely met as Opera Chorus members in college. She has
Thus ends Betty's son's week of July 17-23, in the year of our lord, 2011.
What would Betty say? "I don't why these old men have to marry these young women. They never can be alone. All they want is a nurse or a purse". And then she would go on about how gray President Obama's hair has gotten since the election.
Once In Love With Amy
They tried to make her go to rehab and she said no, No, NO!
And now she's dead.
What would Betty say: "That girl just tries to look ugly. I don't know why these kids get on that crack and codeine. She needed a spanking."
And now she's dead.
What would Betty say: "That girl just tries to look ugly. I don't know why these kids get on that crack and codeine. She needed a spanking."
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Poops! She Did It Again!
I was watching one of my favorite shows this morning, "Morning Joe". They mentioned a story about Brittany Spears. Her former employees and associates have come out with a story that Ms. Spears seems to have a propensity to pass gas and to have noxious bowel movements and is very crude about defending her right to her freedom for polluting the air and offending others. This, of course, could in no way be as offensive as the music she puts out. Talk about air pollution!
This brought to mind a situation that recently occurred. And it's kind of an iffy segue, but it's an interesting story, so get over it.
I was visiting my 79 year old daughter at camp. I had purchased some provisions for her and went directly to her room. The door was slightly ajar. I walked in and said, "Hey it's Kevin. I'm here!" She wasn't there, but much to my surprise I look to my right and see a man in her bathroom with his pants down to his ankles dropping a big "shidooby" on the floor. I say, "Hey, I think you are in the wrong room" And he said, "No. This is my room." I said, "No, it's not". He pulled up his pants and started walking out the door. I asked him what his name was and he said he didn't know. I asked him what room he is lives in and he didn't know. I went outside and got the nurse. She helped him to the public bathroom where he continued his trail of odorous destruction. By this time my 79 year old daughter came in the room. I told her what happened and she was very upset. She locked the door to prevent him from coming in. And we kept the door to the bathroom closed until the housekeeping staff came to clean it up.
I keep thinking about that poor little man. Not knowing where he lives, not knowing who he is, not knowing where to drop a "shidoob". And I try not to judge, because who amongst us hasn't had too much to drink, didn't know where they live, didn't know their name, didn't know where you should poop? What? I'm the only one???? "This loneliness is killing me...".
Betty's reaction: "She acts too sexy" (Brittany, not the 79 year old). And for the 67th time she would go into detail about her turbulent bowel movements (as she pulls down her pants rushing to the bathroom).
This brought to mind a situation that recently occurred. And it's kind of an iffy segue, but it's an interesting story, so get over it.
I was visiting my 79 year old daughter at camp. I had purchased some provisions for her and went directly to her room. The door was slightly ajar. I walked in and said, "Hey it's Kevin. I'm here!" She wasn't there, but much to my surprise I look to my right and see a man in her bathroom with his pants down to his ankles dropping a big "shidooby" on the floor. I say, "Hey, I think you are in the wrong room" And he said, "No. This is my room." I said, "No, it's not". He pulled up his pants and started walking out the door. I asked him what his name was and he said he didn't know. I asked him what room he is lives in and he didn't know. I went outside and got the nurse. She helped him to the public bathroom where he continued his trail of odorous destruction. By this time my 79 year old daughter came in the room. I told her what happened and she was very upset. She locked the door to prevent him from coming in. And we kept the door to the bathroom closed until the housekeeping staff came to clean it up.
I keep thinking about that poor little man. Not knowing where he lives, not knowing who he is, not knowing where to drop a "shidoob". And I try not to judge, because who amongst us hasn't had too much to drink, didn't know where they live, didn't know their name, didn't know where you should poop? What? I'm the only one???? "This loneliness is killing me...".
Betty's reaction: "She acts too sexy" (Brittany, not the 79 year old). And for the 67th time she would go into detail about her turbulent bowel movements (as she pulls down her pants rushing to the bathroom).
An Odorous Birthday
Okay, okay. I know it's been a while. I have been out of town, working, taking care of my 79 year old daughter and it's HOT. So sorry readers, I will try to do better. This is the most humble day of my life and I blame those that I have trusted and those that they trusted. And of course, Rupert Murdoch.
I was listening to the radio this morning. (Yes, Radio.) I heard a commercial for McDonald's. It was about a guy who always had to live in the shadow of his big brother, Steve. "You're Steve's younger brother". But now, you can outdo Steve and get some barbeque something or other at McDonald's that he hasn't heard about.
How appropriate that I heard that today, for tonight I am cooking dinner for my older brother, Steve, in honor of his double nickel birthday. (I am frying chicken, but he's hates chicken, so I am also making Barbeque ribs, fried okra, black eyed peas, salad, and brownies and ice cream for dessert (or is it desert?) I really did grow up in the shadow of my big brother(Betty's other son), Steve. Fortunately for me, we were completely opposite of each other and the comparisons were laughable, so it didn't psychologically scar me (too much).
Although we come from the same egg and sperm, you would never know that we did. He is olive complected and I am not. He has hair (lots of it) and... I DO NOT. He was a star athlete in High School...and surprisingly, I WAS NOT. He has a hard labor job...I DO NOT. He has 3 children...I DO NOT. He loves Bluegrass music...I DO NOT. He is addicted to olives... I AM NOT. He can pollute the air with one tilt of his leg... and I DO NOT! And the list goes on and on... One thing we do have in common: He is very funny. But, I am funnier.
As kids we hated each other. He made fun of me at every turn. He beat me up every chance he could. He left home by the time I went to high school and for about 20 years after, we barely communicated. We just did not have one thing in common. But in the last decade we have become closer and closer. A lot has to do with his kids (my nephews and niece) and the time I share with them. But, since our dad died in 1998, we both shared the responsibility of Betty and Betty's sisters. And you know what? I have to say he is one of my dearest and best friends I have and will ever have. We still have nothing in common. He still has hair and I don't. He still was the star athlete in high school and I was not. He still loves bluegrass music and I still do not. He still blows gaseous wind in public and I certainly do NOT! But, what we have is the same blood. And as they say, blood is thicker than water.
So, happy birthday Brother! For your birthday, I bought you some Febreeze!
What would Betty say? "I tried to make him not beat you up. I never could control that kid". And then she would remind me to turn off the stove after I cook and to not put too much salt in the peas. And "Why are you frying chicken when you can go up to the Colonel and get a bucket?"
I was listening to the radio this morning. (Yes, Radio.) I heard a commercial for McDonald's. It was about a guy who always had to live in the shadow of his big brother, Steve. "You're Steve's younger brother". But now, you can outdo Steve and get some barbeque something or other at McDonald's that he hasn't heard about.
How appropriate that I heard that today, for tonight I am cooking dinner for my older brother, Steve, in honor of his double nickel birthday. (I am frying chicken, but he's hates chicken, so I am also making Barbeque ribs, fried okra, black eyed peas, salad, and brownies and ice cream for dessert (or is it desert?) I really did grow up in the shadow of my big brother(Betty's other son), Steve. Fortunately for me, we were completely opposite of each other and the comparisons were laughable, so it didn't psychologically scar me (too much).
Although we come from the same egg and sperm, you would never know that we did. He is olive complected and I am not. He has hair (lots of it) and... I DO NOT. He was a star athlete in High School...and surprisingly, I WAS NOT. He has a hard labor job...I DO NOT. He has 3 children...I DO NOT. He loves Bluegrass music...I DO NOT. He is addicted to olives... I AM NOT. He can pollute the air with one tilt of his leg... and I DO NOT! And the list goes on and on... One thing we do have in common: He is very funny. But, I am funnier.
As kids we hated each other. He made fun of me at every turn. He beat me up every chance he could. He left home by the time I went to high school and for about 20 years after, we barely communicated. We just did not have one thing in common. But in the last decade we have become closer and closer. A lot has to do with his kids (my nephews and niece) and the time I share with them. But, since our dad died in 1998, we both shared the responsibility of Betty and Betty's sisters. And you know what? I have to say he is one of my dearest and best friends I have and will ever have. We still have nothing in common. He still has hair and I don't. He still was the star athlete in high school and I was not. He still loves bluegrass music and I still do not. He still blows gaseous wind in public and I certainly do NOT! But, what we have is the same blood. And as they say, blood is thicker than water.
So, happy birthday Brother! For your birthday, I bought you some Febreeze!
What would Betty say? "I tried to make him not beat you up. I never could control that kid". And then she would remind me to turn off the stove after I cook and to not put too much salt in the peas. And "Why are you frying chicken when you can go up to the Colonel and get a bucket?"
Monday, July 11, 2011
Uncle Cousin Daddy
Yesterday I was informed that Elsie, the stupid dain bramaged cat that won't leave my house, was the product of incest. It seems her father could possibly be her brother. Thus explaining why she is "not right". She had 2 siblings and they were even crazier than her.
I've been thinking of incest a lot lately. WHY? Not something that I usually think about, but it's been in the news lately. In a certain baby killer trial that was held recently, there was a question if said murdered child was fathered by her Uncle or perhaps her Grandfather. Both claims were refuted after a DNA test was taken. And during the Spring Royal Wedding there was a lot of talk how the Royals throughout history tended to marry their own, thus creating some pretty squirrelly aristoCATS. (hopefully, at least one of them were named, Elsie) (just trying to tie it all together, folks)
But the other day, someone on Facebook shared a link with me. The headline posed the question: "How Many States that Ban Gay Marriage Allow First Cousins to Marry?" Astonishingly, there are 19. 19 States!
And there are 3 more (New York, Vermont and Massachusetts) that allow same-sex marriage AND first Cousin marriage. Am I the only one that find this astounding? And, there are more states (Texas included) that allow Cousin Marriage for those cousins who are age 50 or older. Well, Hallelujah! Now I can be an AARP member and marry my first cousin!! (As long as my first cousin isn't a man!!) There were some surprises on the list. Those states allowing Cousin Marriage: California. Which maybe isn't so surprising since they are just a bunch of hippie freaks that live there. Utah. Well, I guess you can marry multiple cousins there, if you are so inclined. Maine. Who knew they did anything up there? Not so surprising: Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee. Not only North, but also South Carolina. Shockingly NOT on the list: Arkansas and Louisiana. I have absolutely no proof, but I am almost positive that there are a lot of law breakers in Arkansas and Louisiana. (Full disclosure: I have Arkansas blood in me. Which might explain a lot.)
So, I guess my point is: if Jim Bob Johnson and Charlene Lucille Johnson want to get married in one of those 19 states, then they can. BUT, if Jim Bob Johnson and Bob Earl Johnson want to get married, they will have to move to New York, Vermont or Massachusetts. I would be more than positive that both couples would be registered at Walmart.
What would Betty say about this? "Now, Kevin Lynn, don't talk about things like that!" And then she would add that she always suspected some of Charles' relatives were "in-breds". (He was from Arkansas)
I've been thinking of incest a lot lately. WHY? Not something that I usually think about, but it's been in the news lately. In a certain baby killer trial that was held recently, there was a question if said murdered child was fathered by her Uncle or perhaps her Grandfather. Both claims were refuted after a DNA test was taken. And during the Spring Royal Wedding there was a lot of talk how the Royals throughout history tended to marry their own, thus creating some pretty squirrelly aristoCATS. (hopefully, at least one of them were named, Elsie) (just trying to tie it all together, folks)
But the other day, someone on Facebook shared a link with me. The headline posed the question: "How Many States that Ban Gay Marriage Allow First Cousins to Marry?" Astonishingly, there are 19. 19 States!
And there are 3 more (New York, Vermont and Massachusetts) that allow same-sex marriage AND first Cousin marriage. Am I the only one that find this astounding? And, there are more states (Texas included) that allow Cousin Marriage for those cousins who are age 50 or older. Well, Hallelujah! Now I can be an AARP member and marry my first cousin!! (As long as my first cousin isn't a man!!) There were some surprises on the list. Those states allowing Cousin Marriage: California. Which maybe isn't so surprising since they are just a bunch of hippie freaks that live there. Utah. Well, I guess you can marry multiple cousins there, if you are so inclined. Maine. Who knew they did anything up there? Not so surprising: Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee. Not only North, but also South Carolina. Shockingly NOT on the list: Arkansas and Louisiana. I have absolutely no proof, but I am almost positive that there are a lot of law breakers in Arkansas and Louisiana. (Full disclosure: I have Arkansas blood in me. Which might explain a lot.)
So, I guess my point is: if Jim Bob Johnson and Charlene Lucille Johnson want to get married in one of those 19 states, then they can. BUT, if Jim Bob Johnson and Bob Earl Johnson want to get married, they will have to move to New York, Vermont or Massachusetts. I would be more than positive that both couples would be registered at Walmart.
What would Betty say about this? "Now, Kevin Lynn, don't talk about things like that!" And then she would add that she always suspected some of Charles' relatives were "in-breds". (He was from Arkansas)
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire!!
Some of you fabulous readers, whom I think have amazing taste in reading material, have been asking me to comment on a certain trial that came to a conclusion this past week. Heard about it? I have been busy this week, but, readers, ask and you shall receive.
Okay, she's a hippie road slut and a dirty leg. She's a pathological, psychopathic liar. She's a party girl with a bad tattoo and thin, stringy hair. She's a narcissistic, self absorbed, hideous specimen of humanity. But, can any of you tell me how, when, where and why she killed her daughter? Can you? Can you tell me with all "certitude" as someone said recently, the answers to those questions. I can not. And obviously and unfortunately, the jurors could not, as well.
We want her to rot in jail. We want her to pay for ruining so many lives, most importantly, the life of that innocent child. We want that liar to have a horrible life in prison being the bitch of someone name "Bertha". But, it is not to be. She reeked carnage on everyone in her life, including the jurors, yet, she is set free. Some blame the prosecution. Some blame the unscrupulous ways the defense planted seeds of doubt in the jury. Some blame the media, her parents, her brother, etc., etc... But for me, there is no blame to made to anyone....except for this horrible woman. Somehow, the chips fell her way - no witnesses, a decomposed body with no traces of cause of death, and most shocking, no law that states you must report a child missing or dead within a timely manner. So, more questions we need to answer are: Is she smart, lucky or innocent? Was this planned out brilliantly and premeditated, was this just another thing that this self-absorbed person got out of, or could it possibly be that she is not responsible for the death of that little girl?
We will never know. It will be one of those great mysteries. No matter what she says in interviews (for which she will undoubtedly receive major bucks) we will never, ever believe anything she says. The world will never know what happened. The only thing we can wish for is that the rest of her life will be filled with lawsuits, harassment, abusive boyfriends, stripper poles, sex tapes and a drug induced suicide. Personally, I think our wishes will come true!
Betty's comment: "O.J did it".
Okay, she's a hippie road slut and a dirty leg. She's a pathological, psychopathic liar. She's a party girl with a bad tattoo and thin, stringy hair. She's a narcissistic, self absorbed, hideous specimen of humanity. But, can any of you tell me how, when, where and why she killed her daughter? Can you? Can you tell me with all "certitude" as someone said recently, the answers to those questions. I can not. And obviously and unfortunately, the jurors could not, as well.
We want her to rot in jail. We want her to pay for ruining so many lives, most importantly, the life of that innocent child. We want that liar to have a horrible life in prison being the bitch of someone name "Bertha". But, it is not to be. She reeked carnage on everyone in her life, including the jurors, yet, she is set free. Some blame the prosecution. Some blame the unscrupulous ways the defense planted seeds of doubt in the jury. Some blame the media, her parents, her brother, etc., etc... But for me, there is no blame to made to anyone....except for this horrible woman. Somehow, the chips fell her way - no witnesses, a decomposed body with no traces of cause of death, and most shocking, no law that states you must report a child missing or dead within a timely manner. So, more questions we need to answer are: Is she smart, lucky or innocent? Was this planned out brilliantly and premeditated, was this just another thing that this self-absorbed person got out of, or could it possibly be that she is not responsible for the death of that little girl?
We will never know. It will be one of those great mysteries. No matter what she says in interviews (for which she will undoubtedly receive major bucks) we will never, ever believe anything she says. The world will never know what happened. The only thing we can wish for is that the rest of her life will be filled with lawsuits, harassment, abusive boyfriends, stripper poles, sex tapes and a drug induced suicide. Personally, I think our wishes will come true!
Betty's comment: "O.J did it".
Thank You, Have A Nice Day!
I try to be polite and accommodating in public. I yield the right away in the grocery aisles. I hold the door open for those behind me in public places. I say, "excuse me" in airports when someone is slow in front of me and I am trying to rush to catch a flight. For me, it says a lot about a person when they think of others before one's self in front of strangers. If I know you then I might not be as polite, but that's a whole other psychological issue that I am trying to work through.
I have a thing about customer service. Once again, it says everything about the place of business and about the employees who work there. Last night I drove through the Wendy's Drive Thru (dinner of champions!). I ordered a single with cheese combo (#1, if you're interested). I drove to the window to pay. I paid, got my change and waited for my food. The food was handed to me. And... crickets... not a word was said to me.
So, I waited. I waited for a "thank you". And yet, nothing. So, I waited. I waited for a "thank you. And yet, nothing. So I waited. I waited for a "thank you". And yet, nothing. Finally, I hear, "you need anything else?" And I said "yes, yes I do." And she said, "yeah, what?" And I said, "a thank you???" And she said, "oh, okay, thank you."
This reminded me of a story a few years ago at Target. I was doing an event and I bought about $350 worth of lights and other party items. I went through the check out line. The cashier started scanning my items with not one word said to me. She didn't bag any of the items, so I started bagging them myself. She finished, took my credit card, gave me my receipt and walked away without a word. As she walked away, I said "excuse me!!". She turned around and said "what?". I said, "I would like a thank you!". And she said, with head cocked, "I don't give a shit!!" And I said to her (as I looked at her name badge), "Well, Berneeka, I think your manager will give a shit!" And she walked away.
Now, I know that these employees are working for minimum wage, have personal issues, etc, etc.... I am sure they aren't thrilled by having to work at all, much less waiting on people all day long. But guess what? We all have personal issues, etc., etc... Especially me. And I still open doors and say, "excuse me".
What would Betty say? "It's because they don't know who their Daddy is. And if they know 'em, they're probably in jail". And then, of course, she would tell me not to use dirty words.
I have a thing about customer service. Once again, it says everything about the place of business and about the employees who work there. Last night I drove through the Wendy's Drive Thru (dinner of champions!). I ordered a single with cheese combo (#1, if you're interested). I drove to the window to pay. I paid, got my change and waited for my food. The food was handed to me. And... crickets... not a word was said to me.
So, I waited. I waited for a "thank you". And yet, nothing. So, I waited. I waited for a "thank you. And yet, nothing. So I waited. I waited for a "thank you". And yet, nothing. Finally, I hear, "you need anything else?" And I said "yes, yes I do." And she said, "yeah, what?" And I said, "a thank you???" And she said, "oh, okay, thank you."
This reminded me of a story a few years ago at Target. I was doing an event and I bought about $350 worth of lights and other party items. I went through the check out line. The cashier started scanning my items with not one word said to me. She didn't bag any of the items, so I started bagging them myself. She finished, took my credit card, gave me my receipt and walked away without a word. As she walked away, I said "excuse me!!". She turned around and said "what?". I said, "I would like a thank you!". And she said, with head cocked, "I don't give a shit!!" And I said to her (as I looked at her name badge), "Well, Berneeka, I think your manager will give a shit!" And she walked away.
Now, I know that these employees are working for minimum wage, have personal issues, etc, etc.... I am sure they aren't thrilled by having to work at all, much less waiting on people all day long. But guess what? We all have personal issues, etc., etc... Especially me. And I still open doors and say, "excuse me".
What would Betty say? "It's because they don't know who their Daddy is. And if they know 'em, they're probably in jail". And then, of course, she would tell me not to use dirty words.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Pussy Galore
I have cats. I don't want cats.
There is this cat, Elsie. Elsie, the dain bramaged cat. She's not right. She's basically a wild, feral cat that my 79 year old daughter (a.k.a. The Cat Whisperer) lured into her house. She is a skiddish cat who won't let you pick her up or pet her. You come close to her and she runs. She let me pet her once when she lived with the 79 year old and I guess she felt violated, so she won't let me near her.
Since the 79 year old went off to camp, she has been fed (and let in) by our neighbors, Al and Sandra. But for the past week, she will not leave my closed in porch. It started when I kept my Niece's dog (formerly Betty's dog/Formerly the 79 year old's dog), Wylie. Wylie and Elsie, the dain bramaged cat, lived together with the 79 year old. I guess she missed him in her weird, dain bramaged way. I would let him out to do his business and she would "meow" and rub up against him. But Wylie, being the pampered upper crust Shitzu that he is, had nothing to do with her. She would rub and he would literally turn his head at the little gutter snipe. For 2 days Elsie stayed on my porch waiting for Wylie to come out. I figured she would go back to Al and Sandra's when she was hungry, but she never left. I felt sorry for the pitiful thing, so I put some water out for her. Another day went by and she wouldn't leave. Sooooo, I bought some food and put it out for her. Well, now she won't leave. AND, she tries desperately to come into my house. She won't let me touch her, but wants in my house. I walk out of the house and she "meows" like a crazy woman and runs and tries to sneak into the house. (FYI: The porch is shaded and cool. So, she is not out in the 100 degree weather, for you animal buffs who are freaking out)
So now that I have put out food for her, the whole dain bramaged animal neighborhood has heard about it. (They must have social networking. Perhaps they call it, "Critter". Get it? Twitter. Critter?) Now there are 2 other cats (I've named one "Wanda Wren" because she is always "wanderin'", and the other one I just call "Stupid") a stray dog (whom I call "Dark Sally") and an Opussum, who at this time does not have a name. What have I started?? And how does it end???
I feel sorry for the poor, pitiful little thing, I do. I really do. But I can't take care of another crazy lady!
What would Betty say? "I'm not gonna have an animal in my house" as she holds her dog, which she said she would never have in the house.
There is this cat, Elsie. Elsie, the dain bramaged cat. She's not right. She's basically a wild, feral cat that my 79 year old daughter (a.k.a. The Cat Whisperer) lured into her house. She is a skiddish cat who won't let you pick her up or pet her. You come close to her and she runs. She let me pet her once when she lived with the 79 year old and I guess she felt violated, so she won't let me near her.
Since the 79 year old went off to camp, she has been fed (and let in) by our neighbors, Al and Sandra. But for the past week, she will not leave my closed in porch. It started when I kept my Niece's dog (formerly Betty's dog/Formerly the 79 year old's dog), Wylie. Wylie and Elsie, the dain bramaged cat, lived together with the 79 year old. I guess she missed him in her weird, dain bramaged way. I would let him out to do his business and she would "meow" and rub up against him. But Wylie, being the pampered upper crust Shitzu that he is, had nothing to do with her. She would rub and he would literally turn his head at the little gutter snipe. For 2 days Elsie stayed on my porch waiting for Wylie to come out. I figured she would go back to Al and Sandra's when she was hungry, but she never left. I felt sorry for the pitiful thing, so I put some water out for her. Another day went by and she wouldn't leave. Sooooo, I bought some food and put it out for her. Well, now she won't leave. AND, she tries desperately to come into my house. She won't let me touch her, but wants in my house. I walk out of the house and she "meows" like a crazy woman and runs and tries to sneak into the house. (FYI: The porch is shaded and cool. So, she is not out in the 100 degree weather, for you animal buffs who are freaking out)
So now that I have put out food for her, the whole dain bramaged animal neighborhood has heard about it. (They must have social networking. Perhaps they call it, "Critter". Get it? Twitter. Critter?) Now there are 2 other cats (I've named one "Wanda Wren" because she is always "wanderin'", and the other one I just call "Stupid") a stray dog (whom I call "Dark Sally") and an Opussum, who at this time does not have a name. What have I started?? And how does it end???
I feel sorry for the poor, pitiful little thing, I do. I really do. But I can't take care of another crazy lady!
What would Betty say? "I'm not gonna have an animal in my house" as she holds her dog, which she said she would never have in the house.
I'm Not A Liberal, But I Have Played One On TV
It's July 4th, the 235th birthday of this, the United States of America. Flags are flying, fireworks are being fireworked, thousands of pounds of hamburger meat is being eaten and gallons of beer is being consumed. For some reason today is designated to appreciate our freedom, which obviously means that Americans should eat and drink until you puke! Ah, America!!
Since the Presidential election cycle is beginning, it is also the time to proclaim who (or what political party) is the most patriotic. Who believes in freedom and liberty the most? Who TRULY loves this country? Well, obviously it's the Republicans and especially the Republican political candidates. Why? Because they say so. And loudly! They believe in the Constitution, word for word. They believe that government should stay out of our business. They believe that Paul Revere rang bells to warn the British that the British were coming, the British were coming. They believe that freedom began when shots rang out at Plymouth and Concorde... New Hampshire. And they believe that if you are half black and your father is from Kenya and you don't necessarily believe that everything that has happened in America has been perfect or just, you are not a TRUE American.
Times are tough in 2011. Trust me, I know. Houses are being foreclosed at astronomical rates. Jobs.... well, we're being automated out of a workforce. The national debt is cruising into the stratosphere. The lives of ALL Americans (rich or poor or in-between) are in danger due to lack of employment and housing. So, why does it matter who is the most patriotic or who loves America the most? Why doesn't it matter that the people that we have hired to run our government (and subsequently our lives) won't work to do just that... run our government. Instead, they argue that affordable healthcare for all is wrong and evil. They argue that a woman's right to a legal and safe abortion is against American values, even though it is a law of the land. They argue that people of the same sex's marriage ruins the family unit and thus causes tornadoes and hurricanes.
Why do politicians change their true beliefs just because the other side has an idea to help America and therefore, they can't believe it's a good idea? And why do politicians focus on these issues instead of the issues that are critical to our society today like jobs and the social welfare of our citizens? Fear and ignorance - a mainstay of our society since shots were rung out inNew Hampshire Massachusetts. Fear and ignorance is so much easier than actually facing problems and doing what is actually right. It is always easier to have an enemy or to just change the facts and forget about the things we don't want to believe.
Well, here's a fact that I would like to change: Politicians are bought and sold for campaign donations! ALL Politicians. And so for that, Republicans AND Democrats, you are both unpatriotic. Oh yeah,another change I would like to make: Anyone involved in the reality show "The Jersey Shore" should be deported!
And with that, I am going to eat red meat, drink cerveza (that's foreign for "beer") and puke my guts out!
What would Betty think? "Mama (her mother) loved Richard Nixon". And then she would tell the story of listening to FDR on the radio.
Since the Presidential election cycle is beginning, it is also the time to proclaim who (or what political party) is the most patriotic. Who believes in freedom and liberty the most? Who TRULY loves this country? Well, obviously it's the Republicans and especially the Republican political candidates. Why? Because they say so. And loudly! They believe in the Constitution, word for word. They believe that government should stay out of our business. They believe that Paul Revere rang bells to warn the British that the British were coming, the British were coming. They believe that freedom began when shots rang out at Plymouth and Concorde... New Hampshire. And they believe that if you are half black and your father is from Kenya and you don't necessarily believe that everything that has happened in America has been perfect or just, you are not a TRUE American.
Times are tough in 2011. Trust me, I know. Houses are being foreclosed at astronomical rates. Jobs.... well, we're being automated out of a workforce. The national debt is cruising into the stratosphere. The lives of ALL Americans (rich or poor or in-between) are in danger due to lack of employment and housing. So, why does it matter who is the most patriotic or who loves America the most? Why doesn't it matter that the people that we have hired to run our government (and subsequently our lives) won't work to do just that... run our government. Instead, they argue that affordable healthcare for all is wrong and evil. They argue that a woman's right to a legal and safe abortion is against American values, even though it is a law of the land. They argue that people of the same sex's marriage ruins the family unit and thus causes tornadoes and hurricanes.
Why do politicians change their true beliefs just because the other side has an idea to help America and therefore, they can't believe it's a good idea? And why do politicians focus on these issues instead of the issues that are critical to our society today like jobs and the social welfare of our citizens? Fear and ignorance - a mainstay of our society since shots were rung out in
Well, here's a fact that I would like to change: Politicians are bought and sold for campaign donations! ALL Politicians. And so for that, Republicans AND Democrats, you are both unpatriotic. Oh yeah,another change I would like to make: Anyone involved in the reality show "The Jersey Shore" should be deported!
And with that, I am going to eat red meat, drink cerveza (that's foreign for "beer") and puke my guts out!
What would Betty think? "Mama (her mother) loved Richard Nixon". And then she would tell the story of listening to FDR on the radio.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Other Mother
So, most of the time I say that I have had 3 mothers. Betty, the one that spawned me and my 2 aunts ( one that has now morphed into my 79 year old daughter). But in truth, I've had 4 mothers. Those 3 aforementioned, and my Stage-Mother whom I call Mumsy. And I write this in honor of Mumsy on a certain birthday in which she will now be eligible for Medicare.
Mumsy is responsible for teaching me about all things amazing. I always say that any social graces that I might have, I learned from Mumsy. Any thing I know about art and literature and music, I learned from Mumsy. The best advice she ever gave me: "You're not funny, if you think you're funny!"
We met at a dive restaurant in Lubbock, TX 30 years ago. It was clandestine. It was the after party for some show at the theatre department. She was having to do time in Lubbock, TX and decided to get involved with the collegiate theatre department because she knew that the only interesting people in Lubbock would be there. And if I say so myself, there I was!!! She was smoking a cigarette with a cigarette holder. The only time I had ever seen a cigarette holder was on the Johnny Carson show when Phyllis Diller appeared. I grabbed it from her and pranced across the restaurant with it. And the rest is history.
On my first trip to New York, Mumsy insisted that we eat at the Algonquin Hotel. I had never been to any place like that before. They required a jacket and I didn't have one. They begrudgingly loaned me one and it fit (not so) perfectly. The sleeves were about 4 inches too short. I looked like Alfalfa about to sing to Darla. We sat for dinner. I was 22 years old and I had never been to a restaurant that had 2 forks before. (For some reason the Wyatt's Cafeteria only had one fork) I ordered a salad with dinner and the waiter asked me what kind of dressing would I like. I said, "Do y'all have Ranch?" (pronounced "Rainch") I still have the imprint of a stiletto on my shin from Mumsy kicking me and glaring with embarrassed eyes.
It's been a long journey from my forkless past. And I owe it all to my Mums. A few years ago, a group of friends were playing "At 18 what did you think you would turn out to be?". I said, of course, I thought I would be Charles Nelson Reilly and be on games shows. Mumsy said, "I didn't know what I would be, I just wanted to be fabulous!" Well, guess what? YOU ARE!!!
What would Betty say? "Does she still all those "different" things in her house? Her pillows didn't match."
Mumsy is responsible for teaching me about all things amazing. I always say that any social graces that I might have, I learned from Mumsy. Any thing I know about art and literature and music, I learned from Mumsy. The best advice she ever gave me: "You're not funny, if you think you're funny!"
We met at a dive restaurant in Lubbock, TX 30 years ago. It was clandestine. It was the after party for some show at the theatre department. She was having to do time in Lubbock, TX and decided to get involved with the collegiate theatre department because she knew that the only interesting people in Lubbock would be there. And if I say so myself, there I was!!! She was smoking a cigarette with a cigarette holder. The only time I had ever seen a cigarette holder was on the Johnny Carson show when Phyllis Diller appeared. I grabbed it from her and pranced across the restaurant with it. And the rest is history.
On my first trip to New York, Mumsy insisted that we eat at the Algonquin Hotel. I had never been to any place like that before. They required a jacket and I didn't have one. They begrudgingly loaned me one and it fit (not so) perfectly. The sleeves were about 4 inches too short. I looked like Alfalfa about to sing to Darla. We sat for dinner. I was 22 years old and I had never been to a restaurant that had 2 forks before. (For some reason the Wyatt's Cafeteria only had one fork) I ordered a salad with dinner and the waiter asked me what kind of dressing would I like. I said, "Do y'all have Ranch?" (pronounced "Rainch") I still have the imprint of a stiletto on my shin from Mumsy kicking me and glaring with embarrassed eyes.
It's been a long journey from my forkless past. And I owe it all to my Mums. A few years ago, a group of friends were playing "At 18 what did you think you would turn out to be?". I said, of course, I thought I would be Charles Nelson Reilly and be on games shows. Mumsy said, "I didn't know what I would be, I just wanted to be fabulous!" Well, guess what? YOU ARE!!!
What would Betty say? "Does she still all those "different" things in her house? Her pillows didn't match."
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
My Travel Agent Is The Best
I was informed via email that a certain nameless travel agent of mine reads my blog. I didn't realize that when she was one of the defendants named in my indictment in my previous blog. But I must say, she is a MASTER in the TRAVEL industry.
So, in order to restore my relationship with my travel agent (very important when one has an emergency) and to put the kibosh on the threat of her putting me on the "involved in terrorist activities" list and "ordering a special Muslim meal" for me on my next flight, I have decided to extol the virtues of my unnamed travel agent and all travel agents in the world.
My special agent, who is travel agent to the stars (and those of us who ride on their coattails) has a thankless job. Finicky travelers with special needs (and I don't mean physical handicaps, but some do have mental handicaps) call her and ask for incredibly impossible requests. She answers those requests with amazing aplomb and urgency. She does it with a smile in her voice and never, ever a snarky, sarcastic comment. I repeat, NEVER, EVER A SNARKY, SARCASTIC COMMENT.
So for her and all the unthanked and sometimes thoughtlessly blamed travel agents across the world, I say thank you. Thank you for all you do.
And what the hell do Muslims eat?
What would Betty say? "I took snacks in my purse when Charles and I flew to Hawaii". (pronounced Ha-wha-ya)
So, in order to restore my relationship with my travel agent (very important when one has an emergency) and to put the kibosh on the threat of her putting me on the "involved in terrorist activities" list and "ordering a special Muslim meal" for me on my next flight, I have decided to extol the virtues of my unnamed travel agent and all travel agents in the world.
My special agent, who is travel agent to the stars (and those of us who ride on their coattails) has a thankless job. Finicky travelers with special needs (and I don't mean physical handicaps, but some do have mental handicaps) call her and ask for incredibly impossible requests. She answers those requests with amazing aplomb and urgency. She does it with a smile in her voice and never, ever a snarky, sarcastic comment. I repeat, NEVER, EVER A SNARKY, SARCASTIC COMMENT.
So for her and all the unthanked and sometimes thoughtlessly blamed travel agents across the world, I say thank you. Thank you for all you do.
And what the hell do Muslims eat?
What would Betty say? "I took snacks in my purse when Charles and I flew to Hawaii". (pronounced Ha-wha-ya)
Monday, June 27, 2011
That Blows
So, I came home from Virginia last night. Or should I say last night and this morning. It was a grueling experience, one that I will blame on Delta Airlines (Don't Ever Leave The Airport), my travel agent, Taco Bell, and a Down's Syndrome Child!
With about 4 hours of sleep and a slight case of the cocktail flu, I boarded my flight from Roanoke, VA to Detroit, MI at 5 p.m. (EDT) Detroit, you ask? Me, too. My travel agent (who shall remain nameless) got the cheapest rate for me and it involved Detroit. And let me tell you, nothing good ever happens in Detroit. Our flight to Detroit went with no problems. Got there in an hour. I walked across the airport to get to my gate where my DFW flight was to leave. I had an hour layover, so I bought the NY Times, so I could do the crossword puzzle on the 2 and a half hour flight home. (FYI: I finished the puzzle in INK!) About 45 minutes into the layover, the gate attendant announced that the flight was going to be delayed due to another flight with our crew on it was late. "About 30 minutes", she said. And then she said, "an hour". "Well, folks it looks like it will be a couple of hours". Now, for a normal person, that would be a drag, but for a person that likes to imbibe in the tobacco, it is a serious problem!!! But, I took some tylenol and some Skittles and tried not to think about it.
But, I was starving! So, I look around the terminal and the only thing I see with food is Taco Hell. I knew that this might cause problems in a couple of hours, but I WAS STARVING. So, I ate a tasteless burrito and a stale taco and waited for the plane.
We finally boarded the plane. It's was a full flight. It also was a very turbulent flight. So, after about 7 hours without a nicotine kiss, 4 hours of sleep, a slight hangover and a bad burrito, I wasn't feeling too well. And it was obvious that the little Down's Syndrome boy sitting behind me had eaten at Taco Hell, also (If you get mywhiff drift.) Shoo-wee!!! All is going okay until suddenly I smell something...rancid and really bad! The boy's father says something to his son, and all HELL BREAKS LOOSE!!! The poor boy had an accident in his pants. And it was a big one. He starts screaming and crying, His father is desperately trying to calm him and get to his carry on to get some new clothes for the boy. It was a mess. (pun intended).
And it's not looking good for me, either. Now I am on the edge. With every breath I take, I get a little more nauseous. With every bump in the plane, I get a little more nauseous. And when the little boy and his father return from the bathroom, it was all she wrote. Still not smelling completely fresh, the boy sits behind me and that was it. We hit a big turbulent bump and Pappy had to get to the bathroom!
I got to the bathroom and the door was blocked by the jump seat (we were about 15 minutes to landing) and I threw that jump seat back faster than a hooker unhooks her bra, and I get in that bathroom (still smelling a little rank) and THAR SHE BLOWS! Bye, bye burrito!
When I finally got home, I was greeted by Wylie (formerly Betty's dog, now my niece's dog). He was brought over earlier in the day for me to keep while my niece is on vacation. He was excited to see me. In fact he left me some "presents" right in front of the door. Which I immediately stepped in and smashed into the carpet.
I got to bed at 2:00 a.m. (CDT)
What would Betty say? "Well my baby (Wylie) never did that with me!" And then she would complain about her bowels and about the little Down's Syndrome child that one of her friends had that died as a baby.
With about 4 hours of sleep and a slight case of the cocktail flu, I boarded my flight from Roanoke, VA to Detroit, MI at 5 p.m. (EDT) Detroit, you ask? Me, too. My travel agent (who shall remain nameless) got the cheapest rate for me and it involved Detroit. And let me tell you, nothing good ever happens in Detroit. Our flight to Detroit went with no problems. Got there in an hour. I walked across the airport to get to my gate where my DFW flight was to leave. I had an hour layover, so I bought the NY Times, so I could do the crossword puzzle on the 2 and a half hour flight home. (FYI: I finished the puzzle in INK!) About 45 minutes into the layover, the gate attendant announced that the flight was going to be delayed due to another flight with our crew on it was late. "About 30 minutes", she said. And then she said, "an hour". "Well, folks it looks like it will be a couple of hours". Now, for a normal person, that would be a drag, but for a person that likes to imbibe in the tobacco, it is a serious problem!!! But, I took some tylenol and some Skittles and tried not to think about it.
But, I was starving! So, I look around the terminal and the only thing I see with food is Taco Hell. I knew that this might cause problems in a couple of hours, but I WAS STARVING. So, I ate a tasteless burrito and a stale taco and waited for the plane.
We finally boarded the plane. It's was a full flight. It also was a very turbulent flight. So, after about 7 hours without a nicotine kiss, 4 hours of sleep, a slight hangover and a bad burrito, I wasn't feeling too well. And it was obvious that the little Down's Syndrome boy sitting behind me had eaten at Taco Hell, also (If you get my
And it's not looking good for me, either. Now I am on the edge. With every breath I take, I get a little more nauseous. With every bump in the plane, I get a little more nauseous. And when the little boy and his father return from the bathroom, it was all she wrote. Still not smelling completely fresh, the boy sits behind me and that was it. We hit a big turbulent bump and Pappy had to get to the bathroom!
I got to the bathroom and the door was blocked by the jump seat (we were about 15 minutes to landing) and I threw that jump seat back faster than a hooker unhooks her bra, and I get in that bathroom (still smelling a little rank) and THAR SHE BLOWS! Bye, bye burrito!
When I finally got home, I was greeted by Wylie (formerly Betty's dog, now my niece's dog). He was brought over earlier in the day for me to keep while my niece is on vacation. He was excited to see me. In fact he left me some "presents" right in front of the door. Which I immediately stepped in and smashed into the carpet.
I got to bed at 2:00 a.m. (CDT)
What would Betty say? "Well my baby (Wylie) never did that with me!" And then she would complain about her bowels and about the little Down's Syndrome child that one of her friends had that died as a baby.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Yes, Virginia...
I am in the beautiful city of Roanoke, Virginia. Why, you ask? I am here to select the next Miss Virginia!
And did you know that Virginia is for lovers? Who knew?
I have been asked to be a part of the judges panel that will select the next Miss Virginia to compete in the Miss America pageant. (I believe I have explained my involvement in pageants, right?) Tonight, we all met the contestants for the first time. Or should I say, they met us. Or should I say, they got a load of me. The ladies were all dolled up in evening gowns and the 6 judges went around and met each one face to face and had a quick chit chat with them. I think I was too much for some of these girls. I was throwing out some of my best sarcastic one liners and bless their hearts, some of them just didn't know how to react. But then again, some of them did.
Tomorrow is a big day for the contestants... the all important personal interview competition. Each contestant will have 10 minutes for a grueling question and answer period. The questions can be about anything the judge wants to ask. (re: politics, social issues, personal opinions, etc.) So, time for me to ratchet it down a bit and not be so sarcastic. And sardonic. And acerbic. And bitter. I need a happy pill.
Here are some questions I am thinking about:
Who is afraid of VIRGINIA Wolfe?
Where is VIRGINIA and why didn't she fix that ham that I have heard so much about?
VIRGINIA MADSEN or VIRGINIA MAYO?
VIRGINIA??? I don't even know ya!
What would Betty say? "Charles and I drove through Virginia once." And then she would add: "Are they paying you for this?" And then she would chastise me for doing all these things that don't make me any money. Which would segue into "I told you to major in business, instead of that The-a-ter".
And did you know that Virginia is for lovers? Who knew?
I have been asked to be a part of the judges panel that will select the next Miss Virginia to compete in the Miss America pageant. (I believe I have explained my involvement in pageants, right?) Tonight, we all met the contestants for the first time. Or should I say, they met us. Or should I say, they got a load of me. The ladies were all dolled up in evening gowns and the 6 judges went around and met each one face to face and had a quick chit chat with them. I think I was too much for some of these girls. I was throwing out some of my best sarcastic one liners and bless their hearts, some of them just didn't know how to react. But then again, some of them did.
Tomorrow is a big day for the contestants... the all important personal interview competition. Each contestant will have 10 minutes for a grueling question and answer period. The questions can be about anything the judge wants to ask. (re: politics, social issues, personal opinions, etc.) So, time for me to ratchet it down a bit and not be so sarcastic. And sardonic. And acerbic. And bitter. I need a happy pill.
Here are some questions I am thinking about:
Who is afraid of VIRGINIA Wolfe?
Where is VIRGINIA and why didn't she fix that ham that I have heard so much about?
VIRGINIA MADSEN or VIRGINIA MAYO?
VIRGINIA??? I don't even know ya!
What would Betty say? "Charles and I drove through Virginia once." And then she would add: "Are they paying you for this?" And then she would chastise me for doing all these things that don't make me any money. Which would segue into "I told you to major in business, instead of that The-a-ter".
Monday, June 20, 2011
You Have To Be This Tall To Ride This Ride
As frequent readers might have noticed, I have not written much about my 79 year old daughter lately. I have tried but, quite honestly, the care of my 79 year old daughter is so "un-funny" that I haven't found ANYTHING that is witty or entertaining to say. And I can't guarantee that this will be any of those things either, but I just felt like talking about her today.
For those of you new readers (where have you been?), I have a 79 year old daughter who has serious memory issues. As someone very close to me once said in a one-man show, "she don't know 'come here' from 'sic 'em". I've sent her off to boarding school where she is still having adjustment issues. She's met a few friends (one is a man who thinks she's pretty!!) but still she wants to come home. Everyday she wants to come home. Sometimes 4 or 5 times a day she wants to come home. She has lost cognitive abilities, but she HAS NOT lost the ability to dial the phone. Trust me, SHE CAN DIAL THE PHONE!
We are now on a new journey with her. We've been to the neurologist (Dr. Hwong) and he has sent us to a new amusement park. We've visited MRI land. We had a few hiccups but she made it through. We had a visit from the traveling EEG gang, but we couldn't make it through that and had to get off the ride before we were finished. We've been to Ophthalmology City. That was fun. There were lots of bright lights and shiny things there. Next stop is Neuro Psychology Village. It's not in our neighborhood, so guess what? Field trip!!!
Today as we were sitting at The Sonic Drive-In in between Ophthalmologist and Cardiologist appointments (that's a whole other issue, by the way) she was going on about how she could take care of herself at home now that her leg has heeled. I said, "you know that I am not going to let you do that". She argued a bit and I said "I am going to win this one". And she looked at me with the clearest eyes she has had in a long time, and said clearly, "I know".
Tomorrow morning I get on a plane and will be gone for a week. I've enlisted my Aunt and Uncle, who we affectionately call "the circus", to come and be on call. Between the three of them, they might have two thirds of a brain. No offense to them. Well, okay, yes, offense to them. As I said goodbye to her today, she cried. And I tried not to. Instead of "good-bye", she said "thank you". And then I cried. Although the thought of being away from "the madness" is something I have been looking forward to, I will miss her. And now I know, that she will miss me, too.
What would Betty's thoughts be on this? "I didn't have any trouble when I had my MRI. She has always been skiddish". And then she would go on about how her glasses don't fit right.
For those of you new readers (where have you been?), I have a 79 year old daughter who has serious memory issues. As someone very close to me once said in a one-man show, "she don't know 'come here' from 'sic 'em". I've sent her off to boarding school where she is still having adjustment issues. She's met a few friends (one is a man who thinks she's pretty!!) but still she wants to come home. Everyday she wants to come home. Sometimes 4 or 5 times a day she wants to come home. She has lost cognitive abilities, but she HAS NOT lost the ability to dial the phone. Trust me, SHE CAN DIAL THE PHONE!
We are now on a new journey with her. We've been to the neurologist (Dr. Hwong) and he has sent us to a new amusement park. We've visited MRI land. We had a few hiccups but she made it through. We had a visit from the traveling EEG gang, but we couldn't make it through that and had to get off the ride before we were finished. We've been to Ophthalmology City. That was fun. There were lots of bright lights and shiny things there. Next stop is Neuro Psychology Village. It's not in our neighborhood, so guess what? Field trip!!!
Today as we were sitting at The Sonic Drive-In in between Ophthalmologist and Cardiologist appointments (that's a whole other issue, by the way) she was going on about how she could take care of herself at home now that her leg has heeled. I said, "you know that I am not going to let you do that". She argued a bit and I said "I am going to win this one". And she looked at me with the clearest eyes she has had in a long time, and said clearly, "I know".
Tomorrow morning I get on a plane and will be gone for a week. I've enlisted my Aunt and Uncle, who we affectionately call "the circus", to come and be on call. Between the three of them, they might have two thirds of a brain. No offense to them. Well, okay, yes, offense to them. As I said goodbye to her today, she cried. And I tried not to. Instead of "good-bye", she said "thank you". And then I cried. Although the thought of being away from "the madness" is something I have been looking forward to, I will miss her. And now I know, that she will miss me, too.
What would Betty's thoughts be on this? "I didn't have any trouble when I had my MRI. She has always been skiddish". And then she would go on about how her glasses don't fit right.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
A Man and His Meat
No, this is not a post about Anthony Weiner.
It's Father's Day, so I thought it would be appropriate to tell you a little story about Betty's other half, aka my Dad, Charles.
Charles was a very talented man. He had a beautifully trained singing voice, he was a wiz with electronics and he had an amazing gift of not listening to my mother, and yet, still answering her with the right answer. Betty would go on and on with a story and Charles had the uncanny ability to insert an "uh-huh" or "oh" or "hmm" at exactly the correct time. It was as acquired talent, but he mastered it in the almost 50 years that they were married.
But on a summer day in the late 80's, Charles' timing was off. He was outside in the backyard grilling hamburgers. Betty was inside making the "fixings". I was over for a visit and was in the house helping mother.
Out of nowhere we hear sirens blaring. We notice it, but didn't pay much attention. But they kept getting louder and Betty went outside to take a look. Much to Betty's shock, the siren's were headed down our alley. She started talking to Charles but he didn't respond, and she came back in the house. But not too much later, we heard a big ruckus. I am up to my elbows in potato salad, so Betty runs out to see what's going on. And in the shrillest, most annoying voice you can ever imagine, I hear: "Charles get in this house! CHARLES!! GET IN THIS HOUSE!!!! CHARLES!! CHARLES!!" He doesn't pay attention and does not notice anything until about 8 policemen with guns "encourage" him to get in the house as they focus their guns on him and a man lying underneath our sycamore tree. By this time, I am on the patio, yelling at Dad to come in. In what could have been a scene from a Wyl E. Coyote cartoon, Charles' eyes popped out of his head and ran in the house with us. I am sticking my head out trying to see and hear what's going, but I can't hear anything because Betty is berating Charles for not listening to her. She won't shut up, so I sneak out on the patio. It seems that this man raped a nurse up at the hospital about a mile away and had been chased by police into our neighborhood and they finally nailed him in our backyard while Charles was grilling burgers.
So, Charles' timing was off that day. Pre-occupied with grilling, the cacophony of sirens and the shrill descant of Betty's voice, he missed his cue. And Betty did not let him forget it.
So Happy Father's Day Dad. You were a man of few words, but many talents.
What would Betty say? "That hospital caused us nothing but problems". And then she would remind me that we never had to lock our doors until that hospital was built. And then she would go on and on about the time a "hoodlum" broke into Dad's " party van" and left a steaming surprise pile of shit on the carpet.
It's Father's Day, so I thought it would be appropriate to tell you a little story about Betty's other half, aka my Dad, Charles.
Charles was a very talented man. He had a beautifully trained singing voice, he was a wiz with electronics and he had an amazing gift of not listening to my mother, and yet, still answering her with the right answer. Betty would go on and on with a story and Charles had the uncanny ability to insert an "uh-huh" or "oh" or "hmm" at exactly the correct time. It was as acquired talent, but he mastered it in the almost 50 years that they were married.
But on a summer day in the late 80's, Charles' timing was off. He was outside in the backyard grilling hamburgers. Betty was inside making the "fixings". I was over for a visit and was in the house helping mother.
Out of nowhere we hear sirens blaring. We notice it, but didn't pay much attention. But they kept getting louder and Betty went outside to take a look. Much to Betty's shock, the siren's were headed down our alley. She started talking to Charles but he didn't respond, and she came back in the house. But not too much later, we heard a big ruckus. I am up to my elbows in potato salad, so Betty runs out to see what's going on. And in the shrillest, most annoying voice you can ever imagine, I hear: "Charles get in this house! CHARLES!! GET IN THIS HOUSE!!!! CHARLES!! CHARLES!!" He doesn't pay attention and does not notice anything until about 8 policemen with guns "encourage" him to get in the house as they focus their guns on him and a man lying underneath our sycamore tree. By this time, I am on the patio, yelling at Dad to come in. In what could have been a scene from a Wyl E. Coyote cartoon, Charles' eyes popped out of his head and ran in the house with us. I am sticking my head out trying to see and hear what's going, but I can't hear anything because Betty is berating Charles for not listening to her. She won't shut up, so I sneak out on the patio. It seems that this man raped a nurse up at the hospital about a mile away and had been chased by police into our neighborhood and they finally nailed him in our backyard while Charles was grilling burgers.
So, Charles' timing was off that day. Pre-occupied with grilling, the cacophony of sirens and the shrill descant of Betty's voice, he missed his cue. And Betty did not let him forget it.
So Happy Father's Day Dad. You were a man of few words, but many talents.
What would Betty say? "That hospital caused us nothing but problems". And then she would remind me that we never had to lock our doors until that hospital was built. And then she would go on and on about the time a "hoodlum" broke into Dad's " party van" and left a steaming surprise pile of shit on the carpet.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The Ballcock and The Flapper
You probably think this post is about Anthony Weiner, don't you? Get your mind out of the gutter. It's about plumbing, you ingrates.
It seems both of my bathrooms had toilet issues. One wouldn't flush and one wouldn't stop flushing. So, I called the plumber. He came and adjusted my ballcock and fiddled with my flapper. It took about 15 minutes. And we both felt very satisfied with his work.
And not a buttcrack in sight. And I say that with "certitude".
What would Betty think? "This house is just falling apart". She then would describe her volatile bowel movements and wonder if she stopped up the toilet.
It seems both of my bathrooms had toilet issues. One wouldn't flush and one wouldn't stop flushing. So, I called the plumber. He came and adjusted my ballcock and fiddled with my flapper. It took about 15 minutes. And we both felt very satisfied with his work.
And not a buttcrack in sight. And I say that with "certitude".
What would Betty think? "This house is just falling apart". She then would describe her volatile bowel movements and wonder if she stopped up the toilet.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Middle Easht
You all know I am a news junkie. I've tried to kick the habit, but Rachel Maddow has a hold on me. And don't get me started on Anderson Cooper.
But in my daily deluge of news shows today, I had a realization. If you are a TV reporter in the Middle East (re: Libya, Syria, etc), you more than likely have a lisp. A serious lisp.
The most prominent lisper is NBC's Richard Engel. He's a hotty and could probably be a household name and anchor his own show, but the guy LISPS. He has what they call "silibant S's". "Inshurgancesh shurpasshed the blockade and shuddenly shtarted shshooting." I am fixated on it. NBC not only has Lisping Richard, they have another reporter whose lisp is even worse than his.
And if that's not enough... tonight I wasstalking watching Anderson Cooper on CNN and low and behold there was yet another Lisper. I didn't catch her name because I was too flabbergasted to see another Middle Eashtern Lishping Correshpondent.
So, what's up with this? No one else will go? "Hey Bob, who do we have that can go to the war ravaged Middle East?" "Well, let me think... hmmm... how about the lispers?" "There's no one else?" "Nope".
What would Betty say? "Why didn't they get that fixed?" And then she would tell a story of a friend of her's son who has dyslexia.
But in my daily deluge of news shows today, I had a realization. If you are a TV reporter in the Middle East (re: Libya, Syria, etc), you more than likely have a lisp. A serious lisp.
The most prominent lisper is NBC's Richard Engel. He's a hotty and could probably be a household name and anchor his own show, but the guy LISPS. He has what they call "silibant S's". "Inshurgancesh shurpasshed the blockade and shuddenly shtarted shshooting." I am fixated on it. NBC not only has Lisping Richard, they have another reporter whose lisp is even worse than his.
And if that's not enough... tonight I was
So, what's up with this? No one else will go? "Hey Bob, who do we have that can go to the war ravaged Middle East?" "Well, let me think... hmmm... how about the lispers?" "There's no one else?" "Nope".
What would Betty say? "Why didn't they get that fixed?" And then she would tell a story of a friend of her's son who has dyslexia.
Master (De) Bate
Last night CNN sponsored the first major Republican Presidential Candidate Debate. I, being one of the 1 million people in the country to actually watch it, figured I should catch you all up on the exciting television that ensued.
Moderated by CNN's John King, whose head is so long and narrow that by the time the show was over, I swear his chin grew 4 inches, the format was basically the same as every other presidential debate. The candidates were introduced. They did their best pageant wave, shook each others hands and stood there smiling, trying their best to look warm, accessible and fighting the "I am better than you" smirk.
It was 2 hours of Obama Bashing. The word "Obamacare" was used 28 times. The word "failure" was used approximately 18,000 times. (okay, that was an exaggeration) I read the other day on another blog (yes, I read) that the Republicans are "loud and mean" and the Democrats are "over politically correct and pussies".
And truly, tonight proved that for the Republicans.
I will break down for you my overall impressions of each of the candidates:
Congresswoman,Michelle Bachman: She is "cray-cray". But she attracts the other "cray-crays" and she is loud and shouts out stuff that even she, I am sure, says, "wow, I know I just made that up, but dang, that sounded almost plausible". She's gunning for the VP spot and she might get it, cause about 30% of the country are "cray-cray".
Congressman, Ron Paul: I like this guy. He's an old coot, but I love that he totally believes what he says and has been saying it for the past 30 years. He's a libertarian. Which means he's a conservative, but absolutely abhors the government intervening in anything. ANYTHING. Except, of course, anything but getting his paycheck, pension and insurance from the government. He wants marijuana, heroin, and other illegal drugs legalized. So there's that.
Former Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich: If Barney Rubble and Phil Donahue had a love child... That Newt pontificates and pontificates and pontificates. He is so unlikeable that his campaign team, who he was paying, quit. And there's the whole "I cheated on my second wife with my third wife while the second wife was in the hospital with cancer" thing.
Former Governor and J.C. Penney Model, Mitt Romney: He is slick. And, I have to say, he made no mistakes and was the most prepared. But the "cray-cray" Republicans hate him for his universal healthcare plan (re: RomneyCare) he enacted in Massachusetts. And the "cray-crays" are the majority of the Republican party now, so we'll see if he can make it through. (Interesting fact: Mitt and I have something in common. He has "flip-flopped" on just about every social issue there is, and I wear "flip-flops" with my swimsuit)
Former Governor, Tim Pawlenty:
Oh, I'm sorry, I just dozed off.
Former Senator, Rick Santorum: Google his name. PLEASE.
Former Godfather's Pizza CEO, Herman Cain: WHO??? All I know is that he hates Muslims.
It's very early in the campaign. VERY early. And you know what that means? We are stuck with these people for about 8 more months. In exciting news: Former Utah Governor, John Huntsman (the other white mormon) and Texas Governor, Dick Perry are thinking about running. So there's that.
What would Betty think? "Mitt Romney is so handsome. He looks like Rock Hudson." (I am sure Mitt would prefer not to be mentioned with Rock Hudson)
Moderated by CNN's John King, whose head is so long and narrow that by the time the show was over, I swear his chin grew 4 inches, the format was basically the same as every other presidential debate. The candidates were introduced. They did their best pageant wave, shook each others hands and stood there smiling, trying their best to look warm, accessible and fighting the "I am better than you" smirk.
It was 2 hours of Obama Bashing. The word "Obamacare" was used 28 times. The word "failure" was used approximately 18,000 times. (okay, that was an exaggeration) I read the other day on another blog (yes, I read) that the Republicans are "loud and mean" and the Democrats are "over politically correct and pussies".
And truly, tonight proved that for the Republicans.
I will break down for you my overall impressions of each of the candidates:
Congresswoman,Michelle Bachman: She is "cray-cray". But she attracts the other "cray-crays" and she is loud and shouts out stuff that even she, I am sure, says, "wow, I know I just made that up, but dang, that sounded almost plausible". She's gunning for the VP spot and she might get it, cause about 30% of the country are "cray-cray".
Congressman, Ron Paul: I like this guy. He's an old coot, but I love that he totally believes what he says and has been saying it for the past 30 years. He's a libertarian. Which means he's a conservative, but absolutely abhors the government intervening in anything. ANYTHING. Except, of course, anything but getting his paycheck, pension and insurance from the government. He wants marijuana, heroin, and other illegal drugs legalized. So there's that.
Former Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich: If Barney Rubble and Phil Donahue had a love child... That Newt pontificates and pontificates and pontificates. He is so unlikeable that his campaign team, who he was paying, quit. And there's the whole "I cheated on my second wife with my third wife while the second wife was in the hospital with cancer" thing.
Former Governor and J.C. Penney Model, Mitt Romney: He is slick. And, I have to say, he made no mistakes and was the most prepared. But the "cray-cray" Republicans hate him for his universal healthcare plan (re: RomneyCare) he enacted in Massachusetts. And the "cray-crays" are the majority of the Republican party now, so we'll see if he can make it through. (Interesting fact: Mitt and I have something in common. He has "flip-flopped" on just about every social issue there is, and I wear "flip-flops" with my swimsuit)
Former Governor, Tim Pawlenty:
Oh, I'm sorry, I just dozed off.
Former Senator, Rick Santorum: Google his name. PLEASE.
Former Godfather's Pizza CEO, Herman Cain: WHO??? All I know is that he hates Muslims.
It's very early in the campaign. VERY early. And you know what that means? We are stuck with these people for about 8 more months. In exciting news: Former Utah Governor, John Huntsman (the other white mormon) and Texas Governor, Dick Perry are thinking about running. So there's that.
What would Betty think? "Mitt Romney is so handsome. He looks like Rock Hudson." (I am sure Mitt would prefer not to be mentioned with Rock Hudson)
Monday, June 13, 2011
Tried to Make Him Go to Rehab
And he said "yes, yes, yes".
It seems The Weiner won't wither. In the words of Effie in "Dreamgirls"..."And I am telling you I am not going!" Well, he's going to Rehab, but he is NOT going from the Congress.
Over the weekend The Weiner apparently checked into Rehab. Who knew they had a rehab for narcissism?
Isn't that what he is addicted to.... himself? Now, I have been around. And I have known some narcissistic, arrogant people in my life. I am in the business we call "show" after all. I have been around actors for almost 30 years, so I know some me some narcissists. But this Weiner. Wow! He's taking pictures of just about every part of his body(okay, EVERY body part of his body) and sending them to ANYONE who will look at them, whether they are wanting them or not.
Some would say that The Weiner is a sex addict. I don't really think so. Surely he has issues with that, but I don't think that is the root of his problem. Personally, I think the root of his problem started at conception when he was given that nose and that name. I am sure he was ridiculed his whole life. Probably a smart brainy child, I am sure he had to fight to get attention amongst his peers. Generally speaking Jews are not known to be outstanding athletes. I am sure he had problems getting the girls as an adolescent. So he had to try harder to be seen and heard. (I totally get that!) So, what happens? He works hard and becomes a Congressman. And a media darling - yelling and fighting against the right wing idiots. And when he gets the attention - he loses control and sends pictures of " the wiener" to women that think he's "special".
He says he's not resigning from Congress. Everyone wants him to. I am conflicted about whether I think he should resign or not. He hasn't broken any laws (that we know of) unlike others in Congress who have slept with prostitutes and paid off mistresses and gotten their spouses illegal lobbying jobs. But he lied. A lot.
Will we ever trust anything he says again? Time will tell. Should we kick him out because he is a narcissistic perv? If that's the case then 87% of Congress would be gone.
So, Mr. Weiner, good luck with that Rehab Thingy. Hope it works out well for you. I am sure that we will hear all about it in a 45 minute press conference... or a book... or perhaps he will "tweet" us and tell us all about it! Hopefully with pictures!
What would Betty say about this? "He got hit with an ugly stick. I don't know why they didn't fix his nose". And then she would segue into something about Bill Clinton and how she has no respect for Hillary for staying with him. "I would have beaten him with a baseball bat and kicked him to the curb".
It seems The Weiner won't wither. In the words of Effie in "Dreamgirls"..."And I am telling you I am not going!" Well, he's going to Rehab, but he is NOT going from the Congress.
Over the weekend The Weiner apparently checked into Rehab. Who knew they had a rehab for narcissism?
Isn't that what he is addicted to.... himself? Now, I have been around. And I have known some narcissistic, arrogant people in my life. I am in the business we call "show" after all. I have been around actors for almost 30 years, so I know some me some narcissists. But this Weiner. Wow! He's taking pictures of just about every part of his body(okay, EVERY body part of his body) and sending them to ANYONE who will look at them, whether they are wanting them or not.
Some would say that The Weiner is a sex addict. I don't really think so. Surely he has issues with that, but I don't think that is the root of his problem. Personally, I think the root of his problem started at conception when he was given that nose and that name. I am sure he was ridiculed his whole life. Probably a smart brainy child, I am sure he had to fight to get attention amongst his peers. Generally speaking Jews are not known to be outstanding athletes. I am sure he had problems getting the girls as an adolescent. So he had to try harder to be seen and heard. (I totally get that!) So, what happens? He works hard and becomes a Congressman. And a media darling - yelling and fighting against the right wing idiots. And when he gets the attention - he loses control and sends pictures of " the wiener" to women that think he's "special".
He says he's not resigning from Congress. Everyone wants him to. I am conflicted about whether I think he should resign or not. He hasn't broken any laws (that we know of) unlike others in Congress who have slept with prostitutes and paid off mistresses and gotten their spouses illegal lobbying jobs. But he lied. A lot.
Will we ever trust anything he says again? Time will tell. Should we kick him out because he is a narcissistic perv? If that's the case then 87% of Congress would be gone.
So, Mr. Weiner, good luck with that Rehab Thingy. Hope it works out well for you. I am sure that we will hear all about it in a 45 minute press conference... or a book... or perhaps he will "tweet" us and tell us all about it! Hopefully with pictures!
What would Betty say about this? "He got hit with an ugly stick. I don't know why they didn't fix his nose". And then she would segue into something about Bill Clinton and how she has no respect for Hillary for staying with him. "I would have beaten him with a baseball bat and kicked him to the curb".
She's Bringing "Betty" Back
The new Miss Oklahoma is 22 year old, BETTY Thompson.
Some of you might not know about my involvement in pageants. No, not as a contestant, but as a volunteer that helps with contestants in the Miss America program. I started out as a local pageant volunteer and eventually produced and directed the Miss Texas Pageant for five years before I moved to Los Angeles. I still keep up with the program across the country as I have accumulated many friends still involved. In fact, I will be traveling to Virginia next week (and to Kentucky in July) to judge their state pageants.
So, as I was perusing the Pageant message boards this weekend I was delighted to see a contestant named Betty competing in Oklahoma. There are Lindseys, Ambers, Jennifers, Christies, Heathers, Sarahs and Shannons galore. But only one Betty. Betty, like Wanda, Gladys, Myrna and Agnes, is just not a name you hear for anyone under the age of 80.
The roads to success for Oklahoma's Betty and my Betty were not easy. My Betty was born to poor, poor parents and grew up on a farm during the Great Depression. Not a lot of food or clothing. She worked hard her whole life just to survive. Oklahoma's Betty's success in pageants were a struggle as well. First of all, her name is Betty. Second she happens to be "vertically challenged". In pageantland, she is a midget. In reality she is probably 4' 9 if she's an inch and is more than likely 89 lbs soaking wet. She is so short that when she was standing there with the eventual first runner-up awaiting for the announcement, she looked like she could possibly be the first runner-up's ventriloquist dummy. (if the first runner-up was a ventriloquist, which she wasn't, which really disappoints me.) So the odds were against Oklahoma Betty. And to top it all off she's an Irish Step Dancer whose platform (her community service project) is "Milk: It Really Does A Body Good".
So my point is the odds were against Oklahoma Betty, but she beat out over 40 other amazing women to become the new Miss Oklahoma. Which proves my point that anyone named Betty must be extremely, extremely special.
To the new Miss Oklahoma, I say thank you. You are bringing 'Betty' back!! (Take it to the bridge!)
What would my Betty say? "There were a lot of Bettys when I was growing up. The last "Betty" I heard of was when Dorothy Whitton named her girl Betty after Betty Byler who died of cancer." "She was eat up with it!"
Some of you might not know about my involvement in pageants. No, not as a contestant, but as a volunteer that helps with contestants in the Miss America program. I started out as a local pageant volunteer and eventually produced and directed the Miss Texas Pageant for five years before I moved to Los Angeles. I still keep up with the program across the country as I have accumulated many friends still involved. In fact, I will be traveling to Virginia next week (and to Kentucky in July) to judge their state pageants.
So, as I was perusing the Pageant message boards this weekend I was delighted to see a contestant named Betty competing in Oklahoma. There are Lindseys, Ambers, Jennifers, Christies, Heathers, Sarahs and Shannons galore. But only one Betty. Betty, like Wanda, Gladys, Myrna and Agnes, is just not a name you hear for anyone under the age of 80.
The roads to success for Oklahoma's Betty and my Betty were not easy. My Betty was born to poor, poor parents and grew up on a farm during the Great Depression. Not a lot of food or clothing. She worked hard her whole life just to survive. Oklahoma's Betty's success in pageants were a struggle as well. First of all, her name is Betty. Second she happens to be "vertically challenged". In pageantland, she is a midget. In reality she is probably 4' 9 if she's an inch and is more than likely 89 lbs soaking wet. She is so short that when she was standing there with the eventual first runner-up awaiting for the announcement, she looked like she could possibly be the first runner-up's ventriloquist dummy. (if the first runner-up was a ventriloquist, which she wasn't, which really disappoints me.) So the odds were against Oklahoma Betty. And to top it all off she's an Irish Step Dancer whose platform (her community service project) is "Milk: It Really Does A Body Good".
So my point is the odds were against Oklahoma Betty, but she beat out over 40 other amazing women to become the new Miss Oklahoma. Which proves my point that anyone named Betty must be extremely, extremely special.
To the new Miss Oklahoma, I say thank you. You are bringing 'Betty' back!! (Take it to the bridge!)
What would my Betty say? "There were a lot of Bettys when I was growing up. The last "Betty" I heard of was when Dorothy Whitton named her girl Betty after Betty Byler who died of cancer." "She was eat up with it!"
Friday, June 10, 2011
Writer's Block
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And Betty says: "Can't you think of anything to write about??? I need to finish Charles' story before I die"
P.S. She did.
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And Betty says: "Can't you think of anything to write about??? I need to finish Charles' story before I die"
P.S. She did.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
WASPS are Stupid
I destroyed a wasp nest today. And I enjoyed it. Well, I did at first.
Did you know that wasps are stupid? (the insects, not White Anglo Saxon Protestants, however, some of them are really stupid, too.) I don't know much about entomology, but I really can't imagine why they exist. I am sure they do something for the eco-system, but I can't imagine that it is really vital. I am sure that other insects could do what they do.
Today I noticed a wasp nest forming on the overhang above my garage door. About an hour later I went outside and there were 5 wasps busily making the nest. So I opened the garage door and they did not move.
I grabbed a can of Raid and stood about 10 inches away from the nest and they did not move. I sprayed the beJeezus out of them. Most insects are smart enough to scatter when a human approaches (i.e. flies and mosquitos), but not the dumbass wasps. They succumbed to the repellant and flailed to the ground, writhing in a Raid induced seizure.
And therefore my bad feelings. It was so easy. There was no satisfaction in destroying 5 hideous pests. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. It was like stumping Half-Governor Sarah Palin with an American History question.
It's just too easy.
Betty's reaction: "Willie Lou (her sister) blows up when she gets stung by bees". And once again she reminds me to not use dirty words.
Did you know that wasps are stupid? (the insects, not White Anglo Saxon Protestants, however, some of them are really stupid, too.) I don't know much about entomology, but I really can't imagine why they exist. I am sure they do something for the eco-system, but I can't imagine that it is really vital. I am sure that other insects could do what they do.
Today I noticed a wasp nest forming on the overhang above my garage door. About an hour later I went outside and there were 5 wasps busily making the nest. So I opened the garage door and they did not move.
I grabbed a can of Raid and stood about 10 inches away from the nest and they did not move. I sprayed the beJeezus out of them. Most insects are smart enough to scatter when a human approaches (i.e. flies and mosquitos), but not the dumbass wasps. They succumbed to the repellant and flailed to the ground, writhing in a Raid induced seizure.
And therefore my bad feelings. It was so easy. There was no satisfaction in destroying 5 hideous pests. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. It was like stumping Half-Governor Sarah Palin with an American History question.
It's just too easy.
Betty's reaction: "Willie Lou (her sister) blows up when she gets stung by bees". And once again she reminds me to not use dirty words.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Weiner, Weiner, Chicken Deener
Well, well, well.... I guess it is safe to say with "certitude", that "the Weiner" is assuredly a dick!!
With today's acknowledgement that he is with "certitude" a liar, an arrogant douche and a perv, Congressman Anthony Weiner became yet another official member of the "Sex Scandals Ruined My Political Career and Possibly My Marriage" Hall of Shame. Congratulations?
"The Weiner" is now joining his fellow inductees such as New Jersey Governor James McGreevy, South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, Congressman Mark Foley, Senator Larry Craig, Senator Vitter, Senator What's-His-Name from Nevada, New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and North Carolina Senator John Edwards. Weiner joins these esteemed members on a day that we, the American people, watched a scrawny little New York Jew with a large.....nose... completely implode on national television. He so likes hearing the sound of his voice and is so sure that every word he says is interesting, that for 40 minutes he dug a grave so deep that he and all of his fellow "SSRMPCAPMM" members would fit in it. [Interesting fact: the password to enter the SSRMPCAPMM headquarters is: "Damn you Bill Clinton! You made it out alive!"]
So, what do we take away from this kids? A) if you are, say, a congressman, keep "the weiner" in your pants; B) do not take a picture of "the weiner"; C) do not send said picture of "the weiner" to random women you have met on the internet; and D) when you get caught and you will, SHUT THE "F" UP!
And the worse part of the story is that that right wing nominee for "Douche of the Year", Andrew Breitbart was right for the fist time...ever!
What would Betty say about "the weiner"? "He sure has a big nose". And once again go on about how Bill Clinton had 'relations' with that fat girl.
With today's acknowledgement that he is with "certitude" a liar, an arrogant douche and a perv, Congressman Anthony Weiner became yet another official member of the "Sex Scandals Ruined My Political Career and Possibly My Marriage" Hall of Shame. Congratulations?
"The Weiner" is now joining his fellow inductees such as New Jersey Governor James McGreevy, South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, Congressman Mark Foley, Senator Larry Craig, Senator Vitter, Senator What's-His-Name from Nevada, New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and North Carolina Senator John Edwards. Weiner joins these esteemed members on a day that we, the American people, watched a scrawny little New York Jew with a large.....nose... completely implode on national television. He so likes hearing the sound of his voice and is so sure that every word he says is interesting, that for 40 minutes he dug a grave so deep that he and all of his fellow "SSRMPCAPMM" members would fit in it. [Interesting fact: the password to enter the SSRMPCAPMM headquarters is: "Damn you Bill Clinton! You made it out alive!"]
So, what do we take away from this kids? A) if you are, say, a congressman, keep "the weiner" in your pants; B) do not take a picture of "the weiner"; C) do not send said picture of "the weiner" to random women you have met on the internet; and D) when you get caught and you will, SHUT THE "F" UP!
And the worse part of the story is that that right wing nominee for "Douche of the Year", Andrew Breitbart was right for the fist time...ever!
What would Betty say about "the weiner"? "He sure has a big nose". And once again go on about how Bill Clinton had 'relations' with that fat girl.
I Am Great
I was always a good Uncle. If I say so myself,and according to my nieces and nephews, I am a very good Uncle. But now, I am a GREAT Uncle. My nephew Dustan and his wife, Megan, had a freshly spawned little boy on Sunday. They named him Taydn Boyce Howard. (I know, it sounds like something Sarah Palin would make up) Truth be told, I hear, my niece (Dustan's sister) made the name up. The middle name is Dustan's grandfather's (on his mother side) name, which I think is pretty sweet.
Fortunately, from the photos I have seen, Dustan IS the father. No need for a Maury Povich paternity test here. He looks exactly like Dustan who looks exactly like his father. (my brother) So, the Howard full lips, big ears and skinny legs will carry on for yet another generation. (Oh, Glory!)
Dustan and Megan (and now Baby Taydn) live in far northern California, which means the Howard relatives in Texas will rarely see the little "Tay Boy" (which is what I think I will call him). It's kind of sad to think we won't be able to see him grow and for him to not get to know us. But, as I have always said, being an uncle is the greatest job in the world because.... you can always give them back! You can play and bring presents and when you get that whiff of rancid English Peas whafting from their bottoms....you give them back! So with this little one, not so much play time and not so many presents and not so many stinky Pampers. So, in order for Great Uncle Pappy (which is what I think I want to be called, although I heard tonight that my brother wants to be called Pappy, and that might be a little confusing) to make an impact on this next generation of Howard, the play and gifts have to be quick and intense. I'll have to work on that.
Uncle Pappy ain't as fun as he used to be!
What would Betty say about her first great grand baby? "Did they leave a vowel out of that name?" And then she would go on about how Dustan and Megan don't "have a pot to pee in, but neither did Charles and I."
Fortunately, from the photos I have seen, Dustan IS the father. No need for a Maury Povich paternity test here. He looks exactly like Dustan who looks exactly like his father. (my brother) So, the Howard full lips, big ears and skinny legs will carry on for yet another generation. (Oh, Glory!)
Dustan and Megan (and now Baby Taydn) live in far northern California, which means the Howard relatives in Texas will rarely see the little "Tay Boy" (which is what I think I will call him). It's kind of sad to think we won't be able to see him grow and for him to not get to know us. But, as I have always said, being an uncle is the greatest job in the world because.... you can always give them back! You can play and bring presents and when you get that whiff of rancid English Peas whafting from their bottoms....you give them back! So with this little one, not so much play time and not so many presents and not so many stinky Pampers. So, in order for Great Uncle Pappy (which is what I think I want to be called, although I heard tonight that my brother wants to be called Pappy, and that might be a little confusing) to make an impact on this next generation of Howard, the play and gifts have to be quick and intense. I'll have to work on that.
Uncle Pappy ain't as fun as he used to be!
What would Betty say about her first great grand baby? "Did they leave a vowel out of that name?" And then she would go on about how Dustan and Megan don't "have a pot to pee in, but neither did Charles and I."
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Tennis Anyone?
You know you are getting old when you plan your Saturday night so that you can get up early on Sunday to watch all the political shows on the air. I watch all of them... CNN's "State of the Union", NBC's "Meet the Press", ABC's "This Week With Christianne Amanpour". I even watch FOXNews' show with Chris Wallace. I try to pay attention enough to CNN's "GPS with Fareed Zarakia", but that's a lot to ask of a person.
So imagine my dismay this morning when I turned on NBC to watch "Meet The Press" (the granddaddy of all the Sunday political shows) and see that it was preempted for coverage of The French Open Tennis Tournament. A tennis tournament, really? A tennis tournament, a French one at that, is more important than Former Governor and J.C. Penney model Mitt Romney's declaration of running for President? A tennis tournament is more important than coverage of Half-Governor Sarah Palin's "Family Vacation" highlighting America's liberty by enlightening us all with her knowledge of Paul Revere's "ringing bells" and pepperoni pizza? A tennis tournament is more important than coverage of Republican Presidential candidates Tim Pawlenty and Newt Gingrich? (Okay, there you have me, yes, it is.) A tennis tournament is more important than the weakening economy and divisive political parties playing with our future. And for gosh sakes, a tennis tournament is more important than Congressman Anthony Weiner's... well, okay, I'll say it... wiener! More important than a wiener? Really?
I really hate it when networks or local channel's preempt my programs. During the finale of "Dancing With The Stars" I almost went all "paso doble" on my local channel because they had the audacity of warning me of a tornado over my head. I almost missed the awarding of the mirror ball trophy to Hines Ward because lives were in danger. Where are the priorities?
So, today I am left with 4 shows to watch. Oh, wait, as scrolling through my TV guide I noticed that there is a political show on CBS. CBS? Is that still a network?
Betty's thoughts? "That Sarah Palin has pretty hair". And then she would go on about her program ("One Life to Live") and how silly Nora and Bo are acting.
So imagine my dismay this morning when I turned on NBC to watch "Meet The Press" (the granddaddy of all the Sunday political shows) and see that it was preempted for coverage of The French Open Tennis Tournament. A tennis tournament, really? A tennis tournament, a French one at that, is more important than Former Governor and J.C. Penney model Mitt Romney's declaration of running for President? A tennis tournament is more important than coverage of Half-Governor Sarah Palin's "Family Vacation" highlighting America's liberty by enlightening us all with her knowledge of Paul Revere's "ringing bells" and pepperoni pizza? A tennis tournament is more important than coverage of Republican Presidential candidates Tim Pawlenty and Newt Gingrich? (Okay, there you have me, yes, it is.) A tennis tournament is more important than the weakening economy and divisive political parties playing with our future. And for gosh sakes, a tennis tournament is more important than Congressman Anthony Weiner's... well, okay, I'll say it... wiener! More important than a wiener? Really?
I really hate it when networks or local channel's preempt my programs. During the finale of "Dancing With The Stars" I almost went all "paso doble" on my local channel because they had the audacity of warning me of a tornado over my head. I almost missed the awarding of the mirror ball trophy to Hines Ward because lives were in danger. Where are the priorities?
So, today I am left with 4 shows to watch. Oh, wait, as scrolling through my TV guide I noticed that there is a political show on CBS. CBS? Is that still a network?
Betty's thoughts? "That Sarah Palin has pretty hair". And then she would go on about her program ("One Life to Live") and how silly Nora and Bo are acting.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
A Good Haircut on A Bad Head of Hair is Still A Bad Hair Cut
I forgot to mention that today not only did I work in the yard (see post below), but I also gave myself a haircut. You all know that I am " follicly challenged". As noted in an earlier post, I am grateful for the trend for bald persons to shear their hair close to their heads.
I have always been embarrassed to get my haircut. I walk into the "Supercuts". Hopefully, I have missed the Friday "I'm going out tonight and I need my fade trimmed" rush. I walk up to the counter and the receptionist asks if I want a shampoo and I always say "no". I then take off my ballcap and I say to her/him, " Don't you think my haircut should be half the price?" THEY NEVER LAUGH. I set in the chair. Awkward small talk with the hairstylist occurs. They ask how I want my hair cut. Really? You need to ask? I say use the number 5 clipper all over and clean and blocked in the back. It takes approximately 2 minutes to get the clippers and peel my onion. I leave a 2 dollar tip and pay $18 for the haircut. And then I always put my ball cap on and leave.
It's been about 3 months since I have had a haircut. My hair (what there is) grows slowly. But I was looking like a crazy person kind of like the love child of Don Knotts and Christopher Lloyd in "Back to the Future". So, I decided today "why go to Supercuts when you can go to Walmarts and buy some clippers and do it yourself?" And that's what I did. I payed $24 for a clipper set with multiple length clippers. And I did it. I cut my own hair. And it looks good. Well, it looks okay. As good as it can.
And Betty would say: "I don't know know why you are so bald...your brother has beautiful hair."
I have always been embarrassed to get my haircut. I walk into the "Supercuts". Hopefully, I have missed the Friday "I'm going out tonight and I need my fade trimmed" rush. I walk up to the counter and the receptionist asks if I want a shampoo and I always say "no". I then take off my ballcap and I say to her/him, " Don't you think my haircut should be half the price?" THEY NEVER LAUGH. I set in the chair. Awkward small talk with the hairstylist occurs. They ask how I want my hair cut. Really? You need to ask? I say use the number 5 clipper all over and clean and blocked in the back. It takes approximately 2 minutes to get the clippers and peel my onion. I leave a 2 dollar tip and pay $18 for the haircut. And then I always put my ball cap on and leave.
It's been about 3 months since I have had a haircut. My hair (what there is) grows slowly. But I was looking like a crazy person kind of like the love child of Don Knotts and Christopher Lloyd in "Back to the Future". So, I decided today "why go to Supercuts when you can go to Walmarts and buy some clippers and do it yourself?" And that's what I did. I payed $24 for a clipper set with multiple length clippers. And I did it. I cut my own hair. And it looks good. Well, it looks okay. As good as it can.
And Betty would say: "I don't know know why you are so bald...your brother has beautiful hair."
A Delicate Flower
Today I worked out in the yard. I have been working in the yard a lot lately. As some of you know I am living in my parents old house trying to fix it up for selling. And as I have learned on HGTV (hello Monica), it's all about the "Curb Appeal".
The front yard was a horror and completely grown over. For almost 2 years it has been completely neglected. If Betty could see it she would die (again). Betty was an avid gardener. When she retired she went full-stop with 2 hobbies - quilt making and gardening. She came about it naturally. Her father was a farmer and planted many of the trees on our property 50 years ago. We always had a vegetable garden and Betty loved flowers. Betty was not only a gardener, she was a prize winning gardener. She won "yard of the month" and was in the Dallas Morning News twice. Once for her "yard art" and she won "honorable mention" (or as she would say "I was honorably mentioned") for another contest. Just about every inch of dirt had something planted in it. And if she could put an Iris bed somewhere, she would.
Tackling the yard is not my favorite thing. I did not inherit Betty's love for tilling the soil. I love flowers but I want someone else to grow them. And most of you know that manual labor is not my forte. I do "pretty", I don't dig and haul. But because I am poor I have to do the work myself and as Betty would say, "no one helps me out around here!". The job started with clean up. 46 bags of leaves later, I was ready to actually "work" in the yard. I dug up a big overgrown flower bed and put in red bark mulch . I've pruned trees and bushes. I've added bricks to the sidewalk to stave off the dirt from the bare spots in the yard. My brother (yes, Betty had another son) actually helped and planted some new sod for the bald spots (baldness is a family trait) from 2 years of leaves destroying the grass. I have also added mulch around the old trees for a "clean professional look".
Which leads me to today. Today I dug up a random Iris bed that Betty had planted in the front yard. I've been putting it off. I knew I needed to dig it up, but I kept delaying it. And today I realized why. As I was digging I couldn't help but think about Betty. Irises were her signature flower. Some of the bulbs on our property are extremely old and came from her old home place where she grew up. I felt really bad because I know that I destroyed some of them. I thought- should I replant them? Where? Should I give them away? And then I looked around at the hundreds and hundreds of Iris bulbs around this house and I said to myself, "screw it!". And then I threw them in a trash bag and put them in the garbage. And then I took them out. But then I put them back.
Betty, I am sorry, but we're cleaning up and moving on. You never threw anything away, but we've got to. You were very practical and I am sure you understand.
And with that, Betty would say: "I know it's a lot work". And then she would tell me that she is sure that the neighbors think we are lazy for having such a nasty yard. "Their gonna think you are trash!"
The front yard was a horror and completely grown over. For almost 2 years it has been completely neglected. If Betty could see it she would die (again). Betty was an avid gardener. When she retired she went full-stop with 2 hobbies - quilt making and gardening. She came about it naturally. Her father was a farmer and planted many of the trees on our property 50 years ago. We always had a vegetable garden and Betty loved flowers. Betty was not only a gardener, she was a prize winning gardener. She won "yard of the month" and was in the Dallas Morning News twice. Once for her "yard art" and she won "honorable mention" (or as she would say "I was honorably mentioned") for another contest. Just about every inch of dirt had something planted in it. And if she could put an Iris bed somewhere, she would.
Tackling the yard is not my favorite thing. I did not inherit Betty's love for tilling the soil. I love flowers but I want someone else to grow them. And most of you know that manual labor is not my forte. I do "pretty", I don't dig and haul. But because I am poor I have to do the work myself and as Betty would say, "no one helps me out around here!". The job started with clean up. 46 bags of leaves later, I was ready to actually "work" in the yard. I dug up a big overgrown flower bed and put in red bark mulch . I've pruned trees and bushes. I've added bricks to the sidewalk to stave off the dirt from the bare spots in the yard. My brother (yes, Betty had another son) actually helped and planted some new sod for the bald spots (baldness is a family trait) from 2 years of leaves destroying the grass. I have also added mulch around the old trees for a "clean professional look".
Which leads me to today. Today I dug up a random Iris bed that Betty had planted in the front yard. I've been putting it off. I knew I needed to dig it up, but I kept delaying it. And today I realized why. As I was digging I couldn't help but think about Betty. Irises were her signature flower. Some of the bulbs on our property are extremely old and came from her old home place where she grew up. I felt really bad because I know that I destroyed some of them. I thought- should I replant them? Where? Should I give them away? And then I looked around at the hundreds and hundreds of Iris bulbs around this house and I said to myself, "screw it!". And then I threw them in a trash bag and put them in the garbage. And then I took them out. But then I put them back.
Betty, I am sorry, but we're cleaning up and moving on. You never threw anything away, but we've got to. You were very practical and I am sure you understand.
And with that, Betty would say: "I know it's a lot work". And then she would tell me that she is sure that the neighbors think we are lazy for having such a nasty yard. "Their gonna think you are trash!"
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
I Wish I Were A Congressman Weiner
There's a new sex scandal in town and it's name is Weiner. It seems (allegedly) that Congressman Anthony Weiner twitted (tweeted? twatted?) a photo of his erect frankfurter in his underoos to a college girl in Washington State. As with any sex scandal, it's not the actual act that gets you in trouble, it's the cover up!
He says that his Twitter account was hacked and that he did not send the photo to the young woman. BUT, he can not for sure say that it is or isn't a picture of his schlong. You can't say for sure that it is or isn't YOUR penis? Really? You don't know that it is YOUR penis?
Okay, let me explain something to you female readers. A man knows his own penis. HE KNOWS HIS OWN PENIS. I know my penis like the back of my hand, so to speak. Any man knows in detail what his penis looks like. Without going into every inch of details, although some men might not know a lot of things...he KNOWS his penis! So, to say that you can not for certain say that the photo of your erection in grey underwear is yours or not...come on! I've seen the photo and if it were me.... I have to say, I would be admitting that and showing it to any one that would be interested, if you know what I mean. This we know for sure: He's Jewish.
Thank you God above that we didn't have twitter when I was in college.
What would Betty say? "It's all Bill Clinton's fault". And then she would go on and on how much better Hillary looks in pant suits. "She has thick ankles".
He says that his Twitter account was hacked and that he did not send the photo to the young woman. BUT, he can not for sure say that it is or isn't a picture of his schlong. You can't say for sure that it is or isn't YOUR penis? Really? You don't know that it is YOUR penis?
Okay, let me explain something to you female readers. A man knows his own penis. HE KNOWS HIS OWN PENIS. I know my penis like the back of my hand, so to speak. Any man knows in detail what his penis looks like. Without going into every inch of details, although some men might not know a lot of things...he KNOWS his penis! So, to say that you can not for certain say that the photo of your erection in grey underwear is yours or not...come on! I've seen the photo and if it were me.... I have to say, I would be admitting that and showing it to any one that would be interested, if you know what I mean. This we know for sure: He's Jewish.
Thank you God above that we didn't have twitter when I was in college.
What would Betty say? "It's all Bill Clinton's fault". And then she would go on and on how much better Hillary looks in pant suits. "She has thick ankles".
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
People Think It's Funny
Day 5 of unwanted diarrhea. (Is diarrhea ever wanted?)
I've taken so much Immodium that, by all rights, I shouldn't have to go to the bathroom for 3 months.
I am sick of this shit.
Betty's reply: "Me too."
I've taken so much Immodium that, by all rights, I shouldn't have to go to the bathroom for 3 months.
I am sick of this shit.
Betty's reply: "Me too."
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Audacity of Fat
Okay, okay, I know we all have figure flaws. Betty's Son is no exception. I have always said that I have the "skinniest limbs in show business". (insert skinny joke here, like: I'm so skinny that my striped pajamas have only one stripe! Or, I have to jump around in the shower to get wet!) I squeal like a little girl when I (rarely) work out and my thighs touch. I have a bald head and skinny arms and legs. I KNOW THIS! I have always known this. But I do have to say that I have the sense to cover up these "flaws". I wear a cap as much as I can. I wear long pants and long sleeves as much as I can as to not scare the children or incite someone to break off my leg and use it for a baseball bat.
But what is it with fat people these days???
As most of you know, I have recently relocated to Texas from Los Angeles, California. A myth about Los Angeles is that there are not many fat people there. That is not completely true. There are some fatties in L.A. But the difference between those chubs in L.A and the chubs in Texas is that those in L.A. have shame! Los Angeles is the bastion of superficiality. There are so many beautiful people there that you actually seek out ugly people to make yourself feel better. The climate is so "looks" oriented that if you do have flaws you have to cover them up and deal with them the best you can.
But here in Texas, the porkers have NO shame! NONE. As I am apt to frequent, how should I say?, "less sophisticated" establishments here in Texas, I am exposed to many, many obese people. And when I say "exposed", I mean, literally, exposed! (insert groan and fake vomit sound here) When did it become okay for a 300 lb. woman to wear leggings and a half T-shirt? When did it become okay for a teenage girl who is 40 lbs. overweight to wear low-rise ass crack jeans and a tank top that doesn't quite stretch far enough down? And why must men who are obviously 8 and a half months pregnant wear a wife beater undershirt and cargo shorts that don't quite make it over their beer bellies? (I am assuming it's a beer belly due to their "This Bud's For You" tattoo on their shoulder) Where is the shame?????
Now, I am not judging these people because they are overweight. (okay, maybe a little) BUT, I am judging them because they are subjecting all of us to every carton of Blue Bell Ice Cream they have ever eaten. They are subjecting us to every chicken fried steak, cream gravy and loaf of Mrs. Baird's white bread they have ever eaten. What happened to the days when fat women would wear MuuMuu's and layers? Lots of layers! Where are the tunics? Where are the tent dresses? Where are large scarves draped over their shoulders a la Oprah 1988? Where are the broomstick skirts, for God's sake????
I know that we should all love our bodies and accept ourselves for the inner beauty that we all possess. But can't we all do this in the privacy of our own homes???
What would Betty say? "I don't know how some of those people fit in the car!"
But what is it with fat people these days???
As most of you know, I have recently relocated to Texas from Los Angeles, California. A myth about Los Angeles is that there are not many fat people there. That is not completely true. There are some fatties in L.A. But the difference between those chubs in L.A and the chubs in Texas is that those in L.A. have shame! Los Angeles is the bastion of superficiality. There are so many beautiful people there that you actually seek out ugly people to make yourself feel better. The climate is so "looks" oriented that if you do have flaws you have to cover them up and deal with them the best you can.
But here in Texas, the porkers have NO shame! NONE. As I am apt to frequent, how should I say?, "less sophisticated" establishments here in Texas, I am exposed to many, many obese people. And when I say "exposed", I mean, literally, exposed! (insert groan and fake vomit sound here) When did it become okay for a 300 lb. woman to wear leggings and a half T-shirt? When did it become okay for a teenage girl who is 40 lbs. overweight to wear low-rise ass crack jeans and a tank top that doesn't quite stretch far enough down? And why must men who are obviously 8 and a half months pregnant wear a wife beater undershirt and cargo shorts that don't quite make it over their beer bellies? (I am assuming it's a beer belly due to their "This Bud's For You" tattoo on their shoulder) Where is the shame?????
Now, I am not judging these people because they are overweight. (okay, maybe a little) BUT, I am judging them because they are subjecting all of us to every carton of Blue Bell Ice Cream they have ever eaten. They are subjecting us to every chicken fried steak, cream gravy and loaf of Mrs. Baird's white bread they have ever eaten. What happened to the days when fat women would wear MuuMuu's and layers? Lots of layers! Where are the tunics? Where are the tent dresses? Where are large scarves draped over their shoulders a la Oprah 1988? Where are the broomstick skirts, for God's sake????
I know that we should all love our bodies and accept ourselves for the inner beauty that we all possess. But can't we all do this in the privacy of our own homes???
What would Betty say? "I don't know how some of those people fit in the car!"
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Going Viral
Well, well, well... it seems that Betty's Son has some impatient readers. A couple of days away and some of you get a little testy. I apologize to you for my tardiness, but I do have a couple of good excuses.
There have been a couple of viruses floating around Betty's house since last we visited. One that infiltrates a computer and one that invades your body and makes you regret that the rapture didn't occur.
As to the computer... I need a new one. But then again, I also need a new career, a new car and a new John Varvatos midnight blue suit, and none of those things are gonna happen anytime soon. In the meantime, my extremely tech-savvy nephew made a benevolent house call and helped me revive the old girl so that I can continue to share these witty musings with you. Like me, the old girl is tired and has seen better days and needs a healthy dose of botox. But, also like me, she is trying her best to keep up with all the younger, hipper computers. She's giving it her best shot.
As far as the vile invasion of the body snatcher.... Do you remember the first time you drank tequila shots and you thought that it would be okay to drink 14 of them? And then you thought it would be okay to walk around campus at night and you were almost thrown in jail? And then you threw up for 2 days and were in bed for 4 days? Do you remember that? Oh, you don't? Was I the only one that did that? Oh, how awkward. Well, anyway, this virus that I contracted wasn't quite that bad, but for about 8 hours it took me back to those days in Lubbock, Texas at some hideous country and western bar where tequila shots were 50 cents and George Strait blared on the jukebox. (Yes, a jukebox. For you young readers - google it) But this time I did not suffer from the "cocktail flu". Some random vicious bug got to me and put me down for 2 days.
And what's really crappy (no pun intended), is that I didn't have a lick of fun before hand. That's kind of the story of my life right now.
So dear readers, I'm back. Betty's Son continues to speak. And he toasts you all with... well, toast and Sprite!!
Betty's reaction? "I knew you drank, you weren't fooling anybody!" And then she would tell me how many violent bowel movements she had that day.
There have been a couple of viruses floating around Betty's house since last we visited. One that infiltrates a computer and one that invades your body and makes you regret that the rapture didn't occur.
As to the computer... I need a new one. But then again, I also need a new career, a new car and a new John Varvatos midnight blue suit, and none of those things are gonna happen anytime soon. In the meantime, my extremely tech-savvy nephew made a benevolent house call and helped me revive the old girl so that I can continue to share these witty musings with you. Like me, the old girl is tired and has seen better days and needs a healthy dose of botox. But, also like me, she is trying her best to keep up with all the younger, hipper computers. She's giving it her best shot.
As far as the vile invasion of the body snatcher.... Do you remember the first time you drank tequila shots and you thought that it would be okay to drink 14 of them? And then you thought it would be okay to walk around campus at night and you were almost thrown in jail? And then you threw up for 2 days and were in bed for 4 days? Do you remember that? Oh, you don't? Was I the only one that did that? Oh, how awkward. Well, anyway, this virus that I contracted wasn't quite that bad, but for about 8 hours it took me back to those days in Lubbock, Texas at some hideous country and western bar where tequila shots were 50 cents and George Strait blared on the jukebox. (Yes, a jukebox. For you young readers - google it) But this time I did not suffer from the "cocktail flu". Some random vicious bug got to me and put me down for 2 days.
And what's really crappy (no pun intended), is that I didn't have a lick of fun before hand. That's kind of the story of my life right now.
So dear readers, I'm back. Betty's Son continues to speak. And he toasts you all with... well, toast and Sprite!!
Betty's reaction? "I knew you drank, you weren't fooling anybody!" And then she would tell me how many violent bowel movements she had that day.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
The End of an (Op) Era
Today, May 25, 2011 is the end of an era. Oprah Winfrey ended her 25 year show. I love "events" on TV. I love finales of long running shows, I love televised funerals and weddings, inaugurations, resignations. I love contest finales and this was big week for that. So, I am in hog heaven. (that was not meant as a weight joke)
So, today I found my Oprah glasses, put on my Oprah gloves and turned on the set. I fixed fried Oprah, pickled Oprah and Oprah Gumbo. I was ready for what was the most culturally influential show in the history of television to end. I was ready to "ugly cry", have an "aha" moment and write in my gratitude journal while reading an Oprah Book Club selection. I was ready to say good bye to someone who has spoken to me for half of my life.
Oprah entered the stage. Her hair was quite good today. She was wearing an ill fitted pepto bismol pink dress with a weird sash thingy hanging from her waist. There was much anticipation on whom might be her last guest. But in true Oprah classy fashion, she selected no one to be her guest. She instead chose to give us a classroom lesson review of what she has taught us through the seasons. She told us that we all have a "calling". She told us that we are "worthy" because we are here on this earth. She told us that all we want in life is to be listened to and validated. And she said some other stuff, but frankly, I zoned out and fast forwarded to the end.
I must say that I will miss the Oprah. I do believe that she influenced our society in a positive way more so than just about anyone in our history. I wish her luck. I am sure she will need it.
And with that I rented the DVD of "The Phantom of the Oprah". (It's not over until the fat lady sings!) (and that was not meant as a weight joke)
What would Betty have thought of Oprah's finale? "That dress was just too tight". And once again she would remind me that she had a black friend at work, but she was a really hard worker.
So, today I found my Oprah glasses, put on my Oprah gloves and turned on the set. I fixed fried Oprah, pickled Oprah and Oprah Gumbo. I was ready for what was the most culturally influential show in the history of television to end. I was ready to "ugly cry", have an "aha" moment and write in my gratitude journal while reading an Oprah Book Club selection. I was ready to say good bye to someone who has spoken to me for half of my life.
Oprah entered the stage. Her hair was quite good today. She was wearing an ill fitted pepto bismol pink dress with a weird sash thingy hanging from her waist. There was much anticipation on whom might be her last guest. But in true Oprah classy fashion, she selected no one to be her guest. She instead chose to give us a classroom lesson review of what she has taught us through the seasons. She told us that we all have a "calling". She told us that we are "worthy" because we are here on this earth. She told us that all we want in life is to be listened to and validated. And she said some other stuff, but frankly, I zoned out and fast forwarded to the end.
I must say that I will miss the Oprah. I do believe that she influenced our society in a positive way more so than just about anyone in our history. I wish her luck. I am sure she will need it.
And with that I rented the DVD of "The Phantom of the Oprah". (It's not over until the fat lady sings!) (and that was not meant as a weight joke)
What would Betty have thought of Oprah's finale? "That dress was just too tight". And once again she would remind me that she had a black friend at work, but she was a really hard worker.
Life's a Bitch and Then You Don't Die
My friend Donna Sue Gonzalez (possibly the funniest woman on earth) and I were chatting on the facebook today. We were talking about taking care of old people and I said that I was hoping the rapture would happen, but yet once again, I didn't get what I wanted. She said she saw a bumper sticker that said, "Life's A Bitch and Then You Don't Die!". Well, ain't that the truth!!!
I took my 79 year old to her first visit to the neurologist today. As she sat there explaining to Dr. Hwong how something exploded in her head and now her memory is leaking in her brain, I watched his face. He was good. Stone faced and really good. This obviously wasn't his first "bat-shit crazy" rodeo. In the span of about 3 minutes she told him that her head had constant pain across her forehead but now that she doesn't have the pain anymore she can go home and live by herself. She also said that her mind was alright but, "I just have trouble remembering things". He nodded and then performed some physiological tests on her. She was loving it. The more tests, the more she kept talking and he kept listening. He said that he wanted to get to the bottom of this so he ordered an MRI, a video EEG, etc..
After the appointment I came home and turned on Oprah's final show. (I will hopefully blog about this later) She said a lot of things, but one thing that gave me an Oprah "Aha" moment was that all of us want someone to listen to us. We want validation, we want to be heard. I must admit that I have stopped listening to my little 79 year old and she needs that...even as her memory is leaking in her head, she needs someone to listen.
Before I left the appointment I wanted to talk with Dr. Hwong. I wanted to make sure that he knew the extint
of her memory loss. He said he got it. I asked if these tests were necessary. He said that there could actually be something physically wrong with her. He also said, "and I don't think we want to have regrets".
So, Dr. Hwong, if loving you is hwong, I don't want to be hwight!
What would Betty say? "Oh, I hope I never lose my mind!" And then she would remind me that she had a black friend at work and that I shouldn't use dirty words.
I took my 79 year old to her first visit to the neurologist today. As she sat there explaining to Dr. Hwong how something exploded in her head and now her memory is leaking in her brain, I watched his face. He was good. Stone faced and really good. This obviously wasn't his first "bat-shit crazy" rodeo. In the span of about 3 minutes she told him that her head had constant pain across her forehead but now that she doesn't have the pain anymore she can go home and live by herself. She also said that her mind was alright but, "I just have trouble remembering things". He nodded and then performed some physiological tests on her. She was loving it. The more tests, the more she kept talking and he kept listening. He said that he wanted to get to the bottom of this so he ordered an MRI, a video EEG, etc..
After the appointment I came home and turned on Oprah's final show. (I will hopefully blog about this later) She said a lot of things, but one thing that gave me an Oprah "Aha" moment was that all of us want someone to listen to us. We want validation, we want to be heard. I must admit that I have stopped listening to my little 79 year old and she needs that...even as her memory is leaking in her head, she needs someone to listen.
Before I left the appointment I wanted to talk with Dr. Hwong. I wanted to make sure that he knew the extint
of her memory loss. He said he got it. I asked if these tests were necessary. He said that there could actually be something physically wrong with her. He also said, "and I don't think we want to have regrets".
So, Dr. Hwong, if loving you is hwong, I don't want to be hwight!
What would Betty say? "Oh, I hope I never lose my mind!" And then she would remind me that she had a black friend at work and that I shouldn't use dirty words.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Mama, We're Not in Texas Anymore
With news of the horrifying tornado in Missouri today, I thought of a special mother/son bonding moment that Betty and I had.
It was May of my senior year in high school. As you can imagine, I was very busy. Choir concerts, the spring musical, prom, banquets, and oh yeah, school. It was time for our annual spring band trip to Corpus Christi. It was also time for my senior term paper to be due. As any perfect student (as I was) would, I planned ahead and put off writing my senior term paper until the night before it was to be turned in. I pulled an all-nighter and barely, BARELY got it finished and turned in. That next day (after the all-nighter) we were leaving on our band trip.
Now Betty had decided that since it was my senior year in high school she would take off work and chaperone EVERY trip I went on that year. Wasn't that sweet? NO. Looking back now that she is gone, it was sweet and pretty special. Not all parents would do that. But as an 18 year old boy who liked to have a little fun every once in a while, it was not cool. Especially since everyone loved her and thought she was so funny and interesting. I remember one of my friends saying to me: "I wish I had your mother". I said something snarky like, "TAKE HER!".
On that day in May the weather turned bad. They decided that we should try to leave early to avoid the weather. So, we loaded the greyhound bus we had chartered. I was so tired that I barely got in my seat and promptly fell asleep before the rest of the bus was loaded. I was out...in an all-nighter coma. About an hour or so later I groggily woke up. There was no one on the bus. I thought...wow, I must have slept the whole trip! I looked outside the window to the left and much to my surprise I saw our high school parking lot. To the right was the band rehearsal hall. I ran off the bus into the band hall and there were my bandmates in the big room... some were playing cards, some were sleeping on the floor, some were doing homework. I was totally confused. I asked one of my friends what they were doing in there. He said, "There was a tornado. They put us in here to keep us safe." I asked if he had seen my Mom. He said that she was probably in the director's office. So I went in there. There she was telling some story to the band director and another parent.
"What is going on?", I said. "What do you mean?", she said. I said, "DID NO ONE THINK TO WAKE ME UP AND GET ME OFF THE BUS DURING THE TORNADO?" "Oh", she said, "I thought you were you in there with your friends". "No", I said. "I COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!". "Oh Kevin Lynn, stop being so dramatic", she said with her eyes rolled.
We eventually went on the trip and I did not speak to her. She did not care. She had plenty others to tell her stories to.
What was Betty's advice for weathering a tornado? Get in the hall closet with your telephone and a hammer. "Just in case some hoodlums try to loot - hit 'em over the head and call the police."
It was May of my senior year in high school. As you can imagine, I was very busy. Choir concerts, the spring musical, prom, banquets, and oh yeah, school. It was time for our annual spring band trip to Corpus Christi. It was also time for my senior term paper to be due. As any perfect student (as I was) would, I planned ahead and put off writing my senior term paper until the night before it was to be turned in. I pulled an all-nighter and barely, BARELY got it finished and turned in. That next day (after the all-nighter) we were leaving on our band trip.
Now Betty had decided that since it was my senior year in high school she would take off work and chaperone EVERY trip I went on that year. Wasn't that sweet? NO. Looking back now that she is gone, it was sweet and pretty special. Not all parents would do that. But as an 18 year old boy who liked to have a little fun every once in a while, it was not cool. Especially since everyone loved her and thought she was so funny and interesting. I remember one of my friends saying to me: "I wish I had your mother". I said something snarky like, "TAKE HER!".
On that day in May the weather turned bad. They decided that we should try to leave early to avoid the weather. So, we loaded the greyhound bus we had chartered. I was so tired that I barely got in my seat and promptly fell asleep before the rest of the bus was loaded. I was out...in an all-nighter coma. About an hour or so later I groggily woke up. There was no one on the bus. I thought...wow, I must have slept the whole trip! I looked outside the window to the left and much to my surprise I saw our high school parking lot. To the right was the band rehearsal hall. I ran off the bus into the band hall and there were my bandmates in the big room... some were playing cards, some were sleeping on the floor, some were doing homework. I was totally confused. I asked one of my friends what they were doing in there. He said, "There was a tornado. They put us in here to keep us safe." I asked if he had seen my Mom. He said that she was probably in the director's office. So I went in there. There she was telling some story to the band director and another parent.
"What is going on?", I said. "What do you mean?", she said. I said, "DID NO ONE THINK TO WAKE ME UP AND GET ME OFF THE BUS DURING THE TORNADO?" "Oh", she said, "I thought you were you in there with your friends". "No", I said. "I COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!". "Oh Kevin Lynn, stop being so dramatic", she said with her eyes rolled.
We eventually went on the trip and I did not speak to her. She did not care. She had plenty others to tell her stories to.
What was Betty's advice for weathering a tornado? Get in the hall closet with your telephone and a hammer. "Just in case some hoodlums try to loot - hit 'em over the head and call the police."
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Gaga for Gaga
Last night I had dinner with my friend and stage-mother, Suzanne. The subject of Lady Gaga came up. We had a lengthy discussion on her meteoric rise and what she has done for the landscape of Pop Music today. (We are so deep!)
Then I came home and watched "Saturday Night Live". She was the musical guest and Justin Timberlake was the host. (FYI: I think Justin is a terrible actor, but he absolutely OWNS Saturday Night Live. Just brilliant!)
Some of you might not know that Lady Gaga was a student at NYU's Tish School of the Arts. Unlike other "Pop Stars", she is a trained musician and actress. (Brittany, Ke$ha, yes, I am talking about you) In a very short time she has established herself as a Pop Icon and lucrative musician. However, I think she goes way beyond Pop Star and Icon, she is a Pop Role Model. She has established for herself a strong sense of individualism (the meat dress, come on!). But she also has given hope and aspiration to all those weird, off beat kids who are screaming to have their voices heard. She loves them, embraces them and encourages them to let their voices sing. (You were"Born This Way" baby)
Back in my day I was one of those weird, off beat kids screaming. (insert "screamer" joke here). I was trying with all might to embrace the idea of individualism in a culture that was not so...well, embracing. My Pop Idols were ( don't laugh) Bette Midler, Elton John and Charles Nelson Reilly. (don't judge me!) Later, I found Whoopi Goldberg (before movies and TV) and my creative career changed forever. For me, these artists were true to themselves. And they didn't look like anyone else that were "idolized". They "screamed" in a society that was not as receptive today, and I listened.
So, today kids, do as I say, not as I did. Embrace your individualism with all your might and soul! Because yes, you were "Born This Way", hey!
Hopefully one day I will meet the Lady Gaga and she will call me "Alejandro, Ala, Alejandro".
What would Betty think about Lady Gaga? "She is just trying to look ugly". And then she would tell me again that Michael Jackson molested children because he wore tight pants and grabbed his crotch.
Then I came home and watched "Saturday Night Live". She was the musical guest and Justin Timberlake was the host. (FYI: I think Justin is a terrible actor, but he absolutely OWNS Saturday Night Live. Just brilliant!)
Some of you might not know that Lady Gaga was a student at NYU's Tish School of the Arts. Unlike other "Pop Stars", she is a trained musician and actress. (Brittany, Ke$ha, yes, I am talking about you) In a very short time she has established herself as a Pop Icon and lucrative musician. However, I think she goes way beyond Pop Star and Icon, she is a Pop Role Model. She has established for herself a strong sense of individualism (the meat dress, come on!). But she also has given hope and aspiration to all those weird, off beat kids who are screaming to have their voices heard. She loves them, embraces them and encourages them to let their voices sing. (You were"Born This Way" baby)
Back in my day I was one of those weird, off beat kids screaming. (insert "screamer" joke here). I was trying with all might to embrace the idea of individualism in a culture that was not so...well, embracing. My Pop Idols were ( don't laugh) Bette Midler, Elton John and Charles Nelson Reilly. (don't judge me!) Later, I found Whoopi Goldberg (before movies and TV) and my creative career changed forever. For me, these artists were true to themselves. And they didn't look like anyone else that were "idolized". They "screamed" in a society that was not as receptive today, and I listened.
So, today kids, do as I say, not as I did. Embrace your individualism with all your might and soul! Because yes, you were "Born This Way", hey!
Hopefully one day I will meet the Lady Gaga and she will call me "Alejandro, Ala, Alejandro".
What would Betty think about Lady Gaga? "She is just trying to look ugly". And then she would tell me again that Michael Jackson molested children because he wore tight pants and grabbed his crotch.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Parenthood
Well, I am proud to announce that I am the father of a beautiful 79 year old tween!! We named her Roetta. (It was supposed to be Rowena, but the country doctor who delivered her was a drunk and misspelled it on her birth certificate) As most 79 year old tweens go, she came with issues, but we are working through them.
The official adoption went through in January. It went well at first. She was in a nice foster home while recovering from a broken hip. Then we brought her home and all hell broke loose. (Fortunately no hips or other brones broke loose) She so wanted to come home, but after many, many incidents, we decided that she would be best served by sending her off to camp. According to her, it's like a geriatric Outward Bound. But in reality (which is a rare commodity these days) it is a lovely place where she is cared for 24 hours a day, fed 3 meals (the enchiladas are mui fabuloso) and there are other campers that are...shall I say, "happy campers". Our little Roetta, however, is NOT A HAPPY CAMPER!
She calls often. OFTEN. Her room is too small, she thinks the nurses give her the wrong medication, her TV is broken, she has a fever, she's cold, she's hot, there's cold air coming through her windows and her sink. She doesn't feel well she says often. "What would make you feel better?", I say, as any good parent would say. "I would feel better if I was in my house". Like any troublesome tween she is having trouble fitting in with her peers. "They have 'cliques' and they won't talk to me". "No one likes me". "No one comes to visit me" she tells me when I go to visit her everyday.
Other parents at the camp tell me it will get better with time, but my little girl seems to be getting worse. As her disease takes over she gets more and more unhappy and ornery. In better times she was always a meek, sweet little girl. But now she is getting more combative. Because of her disease she can't rationalize that this is the best camp a girl could hope for. Instead, her thoughts take to her to an emotional place that she can't climb out of.
I have often heard that being a parent is the hardest job on earth. And to that I say, "No Shit!"
What would Betty say to this? "You're a good boy, but you don't need to use dirty words" And then she would go on and on about how no one will help her clean out her garage.
The official adoption went through in January. It went well at first. She was in a nice foster home while recovering from a broken hip. Then we brought her home and all hell broke loose. (Fortunately no hips or other brones broke loose) She so wanted to come home, but after many, many incidents, we decided that she would be best served by sending her off to camp. According to her, it's like a geriatric Outward Bound. But in reality (which is a rare commodity these days) it is a lovely place where she is cared for 24 hours a day, fed 3 meals (the enchiladas are mui fabuloso) and there are other campers that are...shall I say, "happy campers". Our little Roetta, however, is NOT A HAPPY CAMPER!
She calls often. OFTEN. Her room is too small, she thinks the nurses give her the wrong medication, her TV is broken, she has a fever, she's cold, she's hot, there's cold air coming through her windows and her sink. She doesn't feel well she says often. "What would make you feel better?", I say, as any good parent would say. "I would feel better if I was in my house". Like any troublesome tween she is having trouble fitting in with her peers. "They have 'cliques' and they won't talk to me". "No one likes me". "No one comes to visit me" she tells me when I go to visit her everyday.
Other parents at the camp tell me it will get better with time, but my little girl seems to be getting worse. As her disease takes over she gets more and more unhappy and ornery. In better times she was always a meek, sweet little girl. But now she is getting more combative. Because of her disease she can't rationalize that this is the best camp a girl could hope for. Instead, her thoughts take to her to an emotional place that she can't climb out of.
I have often heard that being a parent is the hardest job on earth. And to that I say, "No Shit!"
What would Betty say to this? "You're a good boy, but you don't need to use dirty words" And then she would go on and on about how no one will help her clean out her garage.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
It's the End of the World As We Know It
Rumor has it that the world is going to end on Saturday, May 21, 2011. They say it has something to do with Noah and the floods and 7000 years and 7 days.....or something like that.
When I first heard about the world ending I thought for sure it had something to do with Lindsey Lohan. She's trouble. Or the fact that Charlie Sheen has millions of followers on Twitter just because he's a raving lunatic drug addict. Or that Donald Trump embeds racist thoughts about our President just because he's a publicity whore and a narcissistic twit and somehow was on top of the polls for Republican Candidates for President. Or that some Frenchie rich guy raped a poor defenseless African immigrant with HIV. Or that the Arnold has a "love child" and allegedly had "relations" with an under-aged girl. Or that that James guy got kicked off of American Idol. Not to mention Pia!!!
But no, once again, Google proved me wrong again. Accurate information is a terrible thing.
What would Betty say about the world coming to an end? "Wear clean underwear and put on your nice clothes." And then she would go on and on about how her dryer makes all of clothes too wrinkled.
When I first heard about the world ending I thought for sure it had something to do with Lindsey Lohan. She's trouble. Or the fact that Charlie Sheen has millions of followers on Twitter just because he's a raving lunatic drug addict. Or that Donald Trump embeds racist thoughts about our President just because he's a publicity whore and a narcissistic twit and somehow was on top of the polls for Republican Candidates for President. Or that some Frenchie rich guy raped a poor defenseless African immigrant with HIV. Or that the Arnold has a "love child" and allegedly had "relations" with an under-aged girl. Or that that James guy got kicked off of American Idol. Not to mention Pia!!!
But no, once again, Google proved me wrong again. Accurate information is a terrible thing.
What would Betty say about the world coming to an end? "Wear clean underwear and put on your nice clothes." And then she would go on and on about how her dryer makes all of clothes too wrinkled.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Give Me a Head With Hair
I am bald. There I said it. I use to say I was balding, but now I have to say it, "I'm bald!". I started losing my hair when I was 25. I looked in the mirror and I freaked. Some say balding is genetic, but for me, I think it is Karma. I remember making fun of my college friend Mike Morgan for having thinning hair. (ironically, he has a full head of hair now)
But at 25, I realized that my forehead was growing. And there was nothing to do about it. So I decided to grow my hair long to make up for it. That was a pretty look. Betty said that it looked like my scalp was slipping. And this time she was right. Unfortunately, it wasn't vogue to shave your hair close to your head. There was no hope for us "balding" men. At 25, my forehead was beginning to take the shape of the continent of Africa. By 30, it was looking a little like an ink blot test. And now... It looks like an inlet with a few patches of seaweed.
Thank goodness it is cool for us bald boys to shave our heads. I never thought I would say these words, but thank you Bruce Willis.
Which leads me to my pet peeve.... Men with perfectly full heads of hair that shave them close to their scalps!
How dare you????????? Why??????? I blame it all on Justin Timberlake.
If I had a full head of hair I would grow it down to my waist. I would roll it, tease it, braid it. I would have a "Topsy Tail" in every color.
What would Betty say: "I told you not to put that dye on your hair when you did those plays!" And then she would remind of how pretty my hair was in high school.
But at 25, I realized that my forehead was growing. And there was nothing to do about it. So I decided to grow my hair long to make up for it. That was a pretty look. Betty said that it looked like my scalp was slipping. And this time she was right. Unfortunately, it wasn't vogue to shave your hair close to your head. There was no hope for us "balding" men. At 25, my forehead was beginning to take the shape of the continent of Africa. By 30, it was looking a little like an ink blot test. And now... It looks like an inlet with a few patches of seaweed.
Thank goodness it is cool for us bald boys to shave our heads. I never thought I would say these words, but thank you Bruce Willis.
Which leads me to my pet peeve.... Men with perfectly full heads of hair that shave them close to their scalps!
How dare you????????? Why??????? I blame it all on Justin Timberlake.
If I had a full head of hair I would grow it down to my waist. I would roll it, tease it, braid it. I would have a "Topsy Tail" in every color.
What would Betty say: "I told you not to put that dye on your hair when you did those plays!" And then she would remind of how pretty my hair was in high school.
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