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!"

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'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.

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."

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).

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?"

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)

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".

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.

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.

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 in New 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.

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."