Good morning!

I hobbled out of bed a while ago and unless I'm way wrong, and I hope to God that I am, I am hobbling on a broken hip. I'm pretty damned sure of it. But, I'm also pretty damned sure that if I were to go to the hospital, they wouldn't let me go home and that's a problem.

Oh, I'm positive that they'd let me go sooner or later, but before they did, they would want to slice my hip open and fix the sucker and I am SO not in the mood for that. Nor am I ready to eat gelatinous fruit cocktail.

Hey! I always said that I couldn't wait to be an old lady so that I could act nuts and get away with it. I should probably hurry up and do that soon. 25% of people 50 and over die within a year of breaking a hip. This may be my last chance. With all the other stupid shit that's happened to me, this could be interesting. I had a feeling that 2009 would be a special year for me...but death never occurred to me when I was wondering what this next year would hold for me. Oh well, if so, let this be the beginning of the death blog.

I could almost just give up and go to the ER but I have a date tonight that I was really looking forward to. Now, if he would come and sit by me in the hospital, I could handle it, I do so hate to miss our time together. I really need someone to hug and he's a good hugger. But I couldn't ask someone to come sit in a chair and watch TV in a hospital room.

I was thinking about how I could have done this to myself and there are three options. I mentioned one of them on this blog...it was when I was walking my dog. He tugged on the leash at the exact same time that I lost my footing on some wet leaves. Neither event would have made me fall...but the two together guaranteed that I would go down. That day my right knee took the hit so it would be easy to see how that could jam up into the hip. But it doesn't explain why it took so long to start hurting.

Then, I was walking off of a porch without my glasses and I didn't see the last step so I went down and landed on my backside. That could have done it as well. The x-rays should tell which, if either of those things did. But that time, my arm hit the step and distracted me from any other pain. For a moment, I was pretty sure that I had broken my arm. Anyway, the first time my knee hurt like that, I didn't notice anything else.

I hate it when I break.

So...are any of you guys up for sending me flowers? I probably won't have any visitors so if you can...DO send flowers so the nurses don't think that I have no friends at all. I happen to know that the majority of nurses today take care of the people who's friends and family bitch the most. The squeaky wheel gets the oil. Luckily, being a nurse myself, I know how to efficiently get the attention of the nursing staff. And...in case you feel a need to voice a concern should you require hospitalization, pick up the phone and ask the operator to get you the "House Supervisor". There is ALWAYS one nurse who goes around solving problems. I used to do that myself as an Assistant Director of Nursing. THAT'S the person who can effect change quickly...remember that. Ah. Someone, somewhere, sometime will be unhappy that I mentioned that. But trust me, if you need it, it's excellent advice.

OK...back to MEEEEEE!!!

It seems as though I am cryptic without knowing it. Apparently, it's difficult to tell when I'm being "negative". I don't know why, I think I pretty much say it like it is. If I were annoyed, I would discuss the annoyance, not make jokes about it.

For those who don't know how to tell when I'm kidding or not, I'll make it easy for you. If I'm bitching about something stupid, I'm kidding. But, if my problem is a legitimate one (perceived or otherwise), then you can pretty well assume that I'm serious. See? It's REALLY, REALLY that simple. Put that in your hair and comb it.

OK...I just got up to go get something and I am not...how do you say this...ambulatory. This is not good. I'll be in touch when I can get to a computer. Oh, if anyone near Marietta wants to visit me and bring a lap top so that I could post...or take dictation, ya'll'd be welcome...ya' hear?

I can't think of anyone who would come visit me and that's pretty sad. Pretty much everyone I know is out of state.

Before I go, I wanted to say something...I seem to have forgotten what it was. Oh yeah! I was thinking that now would not be a very good time to act old lady silly. That combined with a broken hip could get you a 10-13 and a trip to a nursing home...perhaps even in a unit for "wanderers". That's a nice way of saying "rather confused but wtill able to walk". In other words, the crazy old people. I do so adore them, they're so unpredicatble. I can see myself being a wanderer. At least long enough to hang out with some other wanderers! I'd be the smartest wanderer there. I could form an army...or maybe just a really sharp squad of wanderers. We could run special ops.

You know what? I'm pretty sure that the next place that I sit down is where the ambulance will have to pick me up from and although I'd rather lie down in the living room, the phone is way back in my bedroom. So, I guess I have to go there.

See ya soon.

I'm not quite sure...

...how I did it, but I seem to have broken my hip. I was waiting for that to happen. I should probably go to the emergency room but I'm sort of afraid that they won't let me go once I get there. I hate hospitals...and needles.

But...if I were my own patient, I would tell me to getteth to a hospital. I have 2 of the cardinal signs of a broken hip, one leg is shorter than the other and when I lay my legs down straight, one of them rotates externally. That means that the outside aspect of my right foot is lying flush on the bed while my other foot is pointing straight up.

At first it just hurt a little bit. I could knock it out with Tylenol. Now it just plain hurts with no relief and today my range of motion is slowly decreasing. At this rate, by tomorrow I won't be able to walk at all. Ain't that a bitch?

Occasionally, for one reason or another, I start to list the stupid crap that has happened to me over the past few years. I usually have to stop because it gets so incredible to hear when I say it out loud. This is just one more interesting turn of events.

If there's anyone out there who wants to come over and dog sit so that I can go to the hospital, let me know. Otherwise, if you stop hearing from me, I will either be in the hospital or lying on the floor saying, "I've fallen, and I can't get up."

Happy Fifth Day of Christmas!!!!

Anyone who's ever been...

...in the room while I was typing will tell you that I am, for some reason, a very noisy typer chick. I never learned how to type properly, I just started hunting and pecking and now I'm really good at it...except for the noise I make when I hit the buttons.

But right now I'm typing as quietly as I possibly can because there's a pretty young man sleeping in my bed and I don't want to wake him up. I want to keep him for as long as possible. If I wake him up he might go away and I plan on going back in my room to look at him some more.

A more perfect fuck buddy, I have never had. Actually, I don't think I ever had my very own boy toy before. I should have gotten one much sooner than I did. But, this guy was certainly worth that wait. He's been around for 4 years and I'd like to keep him around forever. Not as a husband, just as a fuck buddy.

He's bright, funny and tall. Those are three things that I adore in a man. He's not only tall, he's like 6'6" tall and weighs well over 220 pounds so he's well proportioned. He's just so much fun to look at, especially when he's "busy".

We may go to a movie today or tomorrow, I want to see that Benjamin Button movie and he wants to see the new Clint Eastwood movie. I could handle either one of them.

OMG! He just woke up, he can't catch me writing this...I'm outta here!

Many people think of...

...CNN as being an extremely biased network. Others accuse Fox of putting the occasional thumb on the scales when balancing the news as well. People who watch one or the other are quite loyal to their "news channels" and many of them, if not most of them, cannot see the bias of those with whom they agree. And as the scales of fairness seem to tip back and forth on both sides, neither side can claim total objectivity in their reporting of the news.

Any liberal can watch Fox and see the bias. And few conservatives could miss the blatant manipulation that CNN uses in it's efforts to sway the pliable audience members to their way of thinking. Even something as innocuous as referring to our President as "Mr. Bush", while referring to Obama as "President-Elect" in the same story, has an impact. But can a liberal see what CNN does to manipulate their way of thinking? And could a good conservative see the obvious right-sided bias during Fox's reporting of the political landscape?

That's the trick...seeing the bias in those with whom you agree. If you lacking the critical thinking skills to pick up on that, then CNN and Fox already have you. But if you'd like to take a little lesson in critical thinking, stop listening to your own preferred news source for a while and listen to the evil people on the opposite side. Perhaps if you see people contorting the news one way, you'll be better able to notice the contortion of your own favorite talking heads.

And speaking of those talking heads, what CNN anchor person was seen this past week at a local night spot, rather full of the "holiday spirits"? I'll give you a hint...the chick attached to the boobs that he so "graciously" commented on is young enough to be his very young daughter. Lucky for him, she's not my daughter, I don't take too kindly to old men who ogle my daughter from a distance, I sure won't sit back and let it go unmentioned if the old man actually acts out his primal instinct to speak to my daughter's boobs. So, since the mother of the young lady in question is out of state and unaware of what the creepy old CNN dude did to her daughter, I will stand in for her and be the bitch whom, with any luck at all, that young lady will learn to be...in time.

So, here's to you CNN...but I have a suggestion. You need to contact Ms. Ironbox on the Family Guy show and send your anchors to her "female sensitivity training program".

By the way, I don't want anyone to think that I am being biased in my own personal reporting. It just so happens that I live very close to the CNN, TNT and TBS corporate headquarters. Those are the jack asses that I would run into. If Bill O'Reilly pinched my ass, I'd be all over that like white on Michael Jackson. But, I'm here in Atlanta so what can I say? I meet people from Turner's operations all the time.

What would you doo-oo-oo for a warlord dude?

If you were a responsible government official...

...and you were dealing with "fickle warlords and chieftains" in Afghanistan, or any other country totally lacking in any and all respect for women, how would you "win friends and influence people"?

In a country where a warlord "and his 11 men gang-rape a 22-year-old woman", how does our government respond? Keep in mind that, according to the husband of the victim, "when his 2 children were crying one of them peed in their mouth". How would you handle the men who have such little regard for women, and are so lacking in any shred of humanity at all?

OUR CIA officials "are handing out Viagra pills".

I wonder if they come with handcuffs and whips?

Dee...

Peek-a-boo...I see you!

I saw a story...

...about a man who has a gift that his mother gave him for Christmas twenty six years ago. In itself, that's not very odd...lots of us have gifts from years ago. What made this gift special is the fact that it was unopened. That gift, still in it's original wrapping, has come to mean a lot to it's owner and to the school children to whom he shows the mystery gift every year.

The guy saved the gift, unopened, as a result of a comment made by a family member. Twenty six years ago, someone casually remarked that their Christmas had been a great one, but by the next day it would all be over. Agreeing with that sentiment, the guy held back one gift when he opened the others that year. He planned to open it the next day to make Christmas last a bit longer. One thing led to another and now the feeling of that one Christmas long ago is still alive even though the person who gave him the gift, his mother, has long since passed.

Pretty neat, huh? I can't handle not knowing what is in a gift wrapped box with my name on it. I MUST peek. I admit it and I'm sorry. I'm hideous. But this old guy and his unopened box has shown me the light. I promise to try to do better before I die...OK?

And then, someone left this idea in a comment:

"...You could make it a whopping month long event and celebrate all the holidays until the end of January ending with the Chinese New Year!..."

I didn't have to think about that one for any length of time at all...I liked the idea immediately. So, barring any unforeseen difficulties, I'm going to try to make the holidays last a bit longer if I can.

If you like the idea too, you have to do something right away. Before your memories begin to fade, you need to think really hard and come up with the best feeling that you had yesterday. Close your eyes for just a moment and picture the scene around you when you felt that feeling. Take one of those mental snapshots...or heck, take a mental video...of everyone who was there at the time. As you start to go back to today's mental business, look back at that scene a few more times to sort of hammer the view into your psyche.

I have no idea how I'm going to go about this yet and any ideas would be welcomed. Certainly let me know if you're aware of holidays in January that don't fall on the first or fifteenth.

Now, how many of you know what Boxing Day is? It's today, by the way. For some reason that I'm unaware of, Boxing Day never caught on in America. Traditionally a day when the have's give gifts to the have-not's, many of us left this particular holiday back in the mother country. I have a theory as to why that happened.

The hero of this holiday was martyred too...only he was stoned to death. Apparently, much has been made of the fact that stones do not make very nice necklace charms. As a result, Christmas won out over Boxing Day. So, gentle readers, I hope you learned something new...I surely did.

You know, "gentle readers" does SOUND sweet, doesn't it? Well, I like to think that the people who read this stuff aren't really the sappiest folks around. Sure, you might enjoy extending the holiday feelings...it's a nice feeling. Who wouldn't want to extend a nice feeling feeling? Actually, that fits right in to my anti gentle readers philosophy because it makes us all rather selfish, doesn't it? After all, if we weren't selfish, we wouldn't try so hard to get that good feeling that comes from giving of ourselves...right?

If I like feeling good about myself, does that make me selfish? Maybe it does. Damn, Rick was right...he's not the selfish one...he had to suffer through all of the guilty feelings that accompany being a lying cheat. Aw, poor guy, I had him all wrong. Good for you Rick, your pious suffering has not gone unnoticed. Yours must truly be the gentlest of all souls.

But, for the rest of you selfish heathens, Happy Boxing Day!

I had a Christmas Eve date...

...last night and although I had a really, really, really good time, sometimes I wish I could just tell my dates that I really need the cash more than I need the great evening. A sweetheart of a guy came over last night after he dropped his son off at the kid's mother's place. His son was with the mom and all of my kids are with their father this year so we decided to hang out together to avoid the lonliness.

As he was sitting on my couch, waiting for me to finish getting dressed, he had a brainstorm. "Are you up for a road trip tonight?", he asked.

"Define road trip.", I cautiously responded.

With a huge smile on his face he answered me, "Let's go gambling in Alabama!"

I graciously accepted, hiding my confusion. Alabama? Gambling? On what...cock fights?

Apparently there are some things about this neck of the woods that I didn't know. I had no clue that there were casinos in Alabama. I figured they would have Bingo, Alabama seems like a Bingo sort of state. But casinos?

I wondered if I was dressed well enough for a casino when I thought to myself, "It's fricking Alabama...I should be fine."

So, off I went for a night of merry making and high rolling fun...deep in the heart of Dixie.

The name of the place we were going is actually "VictoryLand". I don't know why they didn't just go all the way and name it, "YouCan'tLoseLand" but I'm not one to quibble over minor details. :) They had a dog race track and OTB on other dog and horse races all over the country. But, to my date's dismay, the dogs don't run on Christmas Eve.

But even so, as we drove up the long, palm tree lined driveway and I saw the beautiful fountain near the valet parking dudes...I started to think..."Ooh! This is Alabama? It's sort of nice!"

It was pretty much a huge complex with a dog track and some other buildings and the casino in the middle. As we walked in, I could see the slot machines. I knew they were slots because of the various types of women who were sitting at them. The machines themselves looked nothing like the slot machines of old...not one single one armed bandit had an arm.

Ordinarily, if I were to gamble, it would be on a game that I understood like blackjack. I didn't understand one of those silly machines...they were like a cross between pin-ball and a video game. I don't really care for either of those. So, where were the other games? They HAD no other games. This was one huge ass casino full of slots. Now the Alabama connection was becoming clearer.

My date handed me rolled up coins that I thought were quarters but they were short rolls and they said $25.00 on the side. They were all gold dollar coins. This guy actually went to the bank to get those coins especially for me...wasn't that sweet? After being married to someone who gives mouse earrings as gifts for so long, I had almost forgotten how nice it was to go out with a thoughtful guy. I like it.

That brings me back to my original comment. Do you know how hard it is to throw away money like that when I have so little? Just one of those rolls would have doubled by checking account balance. But I couldn't just say, "No, that's OK, I'll just keep the money, thank you."

From the time my date filled up his gas tank before we left to the time we stopped for a couple of Cokes for the ride home, that guy spent hundreds of dollars. I certainly had fun and I'm so glad that he thought of me, but c'mon...I could pay a stack of bills with hundreds of dollars. I'm not quite sure what to think of that.

But, as I said, I had a great time so I should just be happy with that. That and the fact that we even made it home in one piece. The roads were unnervingly slick, we hydroplaned 3 times and once we hit what looked like road but was in reality at least 4 inches of water going about 60. (That's when I got as lucky as I was going to get...I freaked and grabbed his arm.) Then, as we drove into Atlanta, we passed two really bad looking wrecks.

It's been quite a while since I've been out on such a nice date with such a nice guy. Unfortunately, I'm afraid this one is doomed to failure before it even gets' off the ground. First of all, the guy is, once again, younger than I am and quite the nice looking youngun'. I could almost handle that but the last time we went out, I grabbed his upper arm at one point and it was as hard as a rock. I know what that means.

That means that there is more under the clothes...like ripped abs and sculpted thighs. Now, there's certainly nothing wrong with a guy who is in such great shape. But, that really sets the bar a bit too high for me to handle. With all of my clothes and my Victoria's Secret bra on, I probably look like any other tiny little female...but underneath them you'll find quite a few mushy areas that I could never allow a hunk like that to fondle.

Crap. I guess I have to limit myself to fat guys and pot-bellied old men. That's OK...I can handle that, as long as they don't have those tiny little legs that make them look like a water tower. If a guy is gonna be fat, he has to be fat from head to toe.

Of course, for the time being I'm sort of stuck with that dude with a great body. I'm not sure how to deal with that but I shall trudge on through this responsibility with all the glee that I can muster.

:)

Happy Holidays!

I can't take it anymore.

The pressure is just too much for me. For WELL over 40 years now, this bear named Smokey has been annoying the hell out of me and today I saw his face one time too many. The camel's back is broken and I can't handle the pressure anymore. Apparently, for some reason that I cannot fathom, ever since the 60's, I have been the only one who can prevent forest fires. I've done my best, even when I was 7 years old and living in a suburb of Chicago...I did what I could. To my knowledge, I have never started a forest fire.

Just because I'm giving up the responsibility to that bear, don't think that I will now begin starting any forest fires. I will still do my own little part. But, as to the rest of the forest, I abdicate to a younger person somewhere, anywhere. Just leave me the hell out of it.

I don't even remember the last time I was in a forest. Do they still have them? They had one in Elk Grove Village Illinois when I was a kid but I can't imagine that still being there. It would be worth far too much as commercial property of some sort. It's a bitch that it could be gone, but at least it didn't BURN down. I wonder if it matters to Smokey whether the forest is burned down or if it's bulldozed down? That's a tough one because Smokey is rather mysterious. He's a man of few words so he's hard to read. But...he specifically mentioned "fires"...and he wore a cool hat, but it probably wouldn't have helped him if a bulldozer landed on his head so he must not have been worried about them at all.

Maybe if he had given ME a hat, I could bear this burden a bit longer. But I never got so much as an official badge or anything and if fire fighters get one of them, then fire preventers should get one too. After all, it's better to prevent a fire than to fight one...right? I would think so. But I never did get a badge. Just a stern warning about me being the ONLY one who can fight forest fires.

That bugged me when I was 7 and it bugs me today. I don't know what else to do. Maybe if I lived in Bumfuck, but I don't, I live in a pretty good sized metropolis. We have trees, I can prevent a tree fire, but I'm really too far away from Bumfuck to be of much help with any forests that might be out there. The pressure is too much and after all of these decades, I think I can feel pretty good about stepping down. Maybe a gold log would be in order...even a box of truffles would be nice. But I'm just too tired to keep on shouldering all of this responsibility. I have too many other pressing matters at hand.

You know, it's all that I can do to keep my house from burning down. Electricity scares me. I'm all alone so if any circuits break, I have to fix them and I have no fricking CLUE what a circuit is. This is an old house and if the electric stuff is as messed up as the plumbing stuff is, I'm really unnerved. I'm not at all afraid of water, except as it relates to electricity. I could handle a plumbing disaster. But an electrical disaster would be quite challenging. I wouldn't have a clue what to do and as soon as I started to run away, I would think of something that I need to grab and I would keep running back and forth because every single time, I would remember something else that I needed. That's not really a good strategy so I should probably try to prevent that. I just don't know what to do about stuff behind walls and from what I can figure, that's where they keep the electric stuff.

I talk on a rotary phone and my coffee pot is from the early 60's. You should take a walk into the past and come visit me in my museum of old stuff. But understand that I'm not preventing forest fires any longer and I live in a fire trap. But you should be OK...just don't ask for coffee.

Well, Smokey, I hope this letter finds you and yours well at Christmastime. I don't mean to add to any burdens, but I'm just a mortal woman...and I'm still in a suburb. And, seriously, I have some rotten luck...I can't expose the forests to it. Right now I am consumed with the overwhelming feeling that merely writing about fires will spark one in my home. Damn it. Now I need a pill.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanuka, and a great big warm hug to the black people holiday. My mind is blanking right now...but it'll come to me...OH YEAH! Happy Kwanzaa!!!

As a nurse...

I've never understood why people would lie to health care professionals about their health. I had an odd friend once who had a "tubal pregnancy" every other month for years. I could tell her over and over again that it wasn't possible unless her doctor was guilty of some insane malpractice and she is the unluckiest woman on the planet...or the luckiest...not many women get pregnant at all after two tubal pregnancies. More often than not, they're true medical emergencies and usually require the removal of one of the two fallopian tubes that each woman has. But still, my friend continued to complain about her "tubal pregnancies" and her husband waited on her hand and foot, always at her side with a heating pad, a stiff drink and a concerned look. What the heck did he know? How many men even know what a fallopian tube is? Your average man would easily fall for such a line of crap, especially if it came out of the mouth of the woman with whom he sleeps.

I usually don't say anything when the average person states obvious misinformation about one illness or another unless I see an opportunity for education. Most of the time people aren't outright lying, they really believe what they're saying. I asked a woman why she was coming into the hospital as I admitted her to the unit. She said that she was there to get "half of a hysterectomy". I had never heard of such a thing. This is the conversation that took place next:

Me: Half? Why are you having half of a hysterectomy?
Redneck patient: Because it's bad.
Me: But if they took out half, why didn't they go ahead and take out the other half?
Redneck patient: Because it wasn't bad.

I never did figure that one out. But, it's just one example of how incredibly ignorant some people are about their health. I point that out only because I'm trying to give someone the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the dude isn't outright lying...he could just be one hell of an ignorant human being. But when I read the following headline, I had to find out what "investigative journalist" Ian Halperin was writing about.

"Michael Jackson Fights For His Life!"

He just finished writing a book about Michael Jackson’s life. In that book, he claims that Jackson suffers from Alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency. A1Ad is a potentially fatal genetic illness which caused, in Michael, "emphysema and gastrointestinal bleeding". This is alledgedly so bad that “He needs a lung transplant but may be too weak to go through with it … [But] it’s the [gastrointestinal] bleeding that is the most problematic part. It could kill him.”

Well, yeah. Any bleeding can kill you, but if you know about it beforehand, as you should with this illness, most bleeding is not of the fatal variety. And if Michael truly "needs" a lung transplant, I assume he's on a list somewhere. Of course it IS possible that he tried to get on the list, but they told him to come back when he can't travel around the world without oxygen and various other emphysematic accoutrement's. Have you ever seen a person with advanced emphysema? Anyway, where's the list that he's on? And couldn't he find ONE doctor willing to discuss Michael's current condition? They pop up all over before Michael goes to court. Why are they all hiding now?

And the disease itself is a genetic disease that is passed on by two parents who each carry the gene for this illness. At worst, the odds of passing it on are equal to my ability to produce blue eyed children with another brown eyed person. My blue eyed mother gave me one recessive blue gene and if I were to mate with a brown eyed male of similar genetic heritage, we would combine our recessive blue eyed genes 25% of the time, resulting in a blue eyed child every 4 times we popped one out. My eyes are so brown that they're almost black and yet two out of my three children have blue eyes.

How many Jackson's are there? Other than plastic surgeons, I can't see anything any of them have in common with each other. But I would still think some famous Jackson might have mentioned genetic counseling along the way. Halperin might have delved a bit deeper into that issue. He writes that Michael"...has had it for years, but it’s gotten worse..." Did he know he had it when he allegedly fathered a child? Enquiring minds want to know.

Most of us take Michael Jackson and his ravings with a grain of salt. I don't know if Michael has A1AD or not and I really don't think about it much. I wish the man all the best and I remember him fondly as one of my very first celebrity crushes back when life was "As easy as one, two three. As simple as A, B, C...one, two, three...Mike's a he." God bless him and his.

But, if I were going to go to all the trouble of writing a book about the man, I would have asked a few more questions. If the book is written in an "as told by" manner, that's one thing. But I looked for that. I couldn't find one thing that said, "Written by Ian Halperin as told by Michael Jackson". Halperin put his own name on the book. I can understand doing that, but only if you name the book, "Check Out This Bullshit!"

But, we all also know that Michael is a few strips short of a box of Biore. We know that he reads life in some foreign language that we don't speak. I guess America is pretty much resigned to thinking of Michael as some odd uncle who no one wants to visit and Halperin has only succeeded in isolating Uncle Michael even further. These health claims allow him to live a relatively reclusive life a la Howard Hughes. They also make it easier for Michael to evade courtrooms.

It's rather sad that, with all of their resources, neither Hughes nor Jackson had anyone around them who cared enough to offer a bit of reality based assistance. Heck, at least take Michael to MccyD's and get his skinny ass a milk shake. That tiny little stinker couldn't fight off a lady bug. Oh well...if a rich guy can get away with murder, why should we worry too much about helping a rich guy who wears a Zorro mask and had a Chimpanzee named Bubbles?

I'm prepared to take a lot of heat for this but I don't really care. I simply suggest that when the world begins dissecting Michael's health, A1AD and other genetic disorders, I hope they do so with a critical mind not overloaded with emotion and nostalgia for that simpler time when AM radio was hot and Michael Jackson was just a cute young man. I hope the media treats this as though it were George Bush or some other perceived evil dude. But, I have a feeling that at the end of the day, we'll all be dancing to another one of Michael Jackson's little melodies...and this time it's a scarier tune than 'Ben'.

I guess Michael can't decide whether he wants to "get busy living or get busy dying". Whichever road he chooses, I wish him all the luck.

So far...

...I'm not terribly impressed with the new millennium. Since the years began starting with a 2, my mother has died, all of my children have flown the coop and the nit wit who was supposed to be here forever is gone as well. I feel sort of stupid myself...just sitting here waiting for someone to come home.

There are some nice things about living alone...the toilet seat is always down, nobody eats my ice cream and I always have control of the remote control. But sometimes when you find yourself talking to a large dog who is looking at you as though you are absolutely batty, you start to wonder if another human being wouldn't be a bad idea.

Yesterday morning my house was as neat as a pin...another advantage to living alone. But this morning, I have had to kick my way through messes that I never saw coming. That's because I had a (say this like the guy who narrated the trailers for old sci-fi B movies in the 50's)...VISIT FROM THE GRANDCHILDREN.

Yes, 2 little human children who used adorable little toothless smiles and huge hugs to gain entrance to a neat home. They seek sustenance by standing in front of a refrigerator, checking out the possibilities. They appear to like foods high in sugar content the most. Then, they attack all that is, in their eyes, organized. Especially things with lots of colors. Their vision must somehow be attracted to those colorful objects because none are beyond their sight. They distract adult humans by starting a movie like Freaky Friday and just when one of us begins to actually get IN to a Lindsay Lohan Movie...they slip away to look for more colorful objects, more forms of sugar and anything, absolutely ANYTHING that will adhere to their clothing, skin or, God forbid, hair.

In their topsy turvy little world, they make the rules. Eye liner can be lipstick and couches can be trampolines. And they're just so mesmerizing. They will take you places that you haven't been in decades, like the floor. You will sit there, on that vaguely familiar floor and color with crayons that you bought as an adult just because you wanted crayons that no little brother or sister could break. And, it's the BIG box, with the sharpener in back. By the way, be sure to take the Tylenol BEFORE you get down on the floor, if you wait for your back to hurt you might miss it when the kids dump your entire box of pristine crayons in a pile and you'll never know how Carnation Pink ended up in two pieces. Yet somehow, when you see this atrocity, you look at the toothless smile and remain calm. Then, as though all self control has been surrendered, you sit back on the floor and play cards with the busy little creatures.

They will try to make you one of their own if you let them. I sat still for 10 minutes while purple and green eye shadow was applied to all different areas of my face and neck. The downside was that it scared the pants off of the little boy who ran screaming from my room. It took quite a while to convince the little munchkin that Grandma was not a witch. The larger of the two found great happiness in that incident.

Rooms you cleaned in October and haven't entered since suddenly become alive again with the sound of 40 pound aliens jumping on the beds. But, by the time you hear that sound, you realize that the visitors have simply expanded their territory and sapped it of it's tidiness. Also, it appears as though they are also quite drawn to pretty things with pumps on top and guest towels. Bathrooms may be small, but the damage done to one during a Grandchild Attack can be massive. I guess I asked for some of it, I actually had a basket full of pretty pink towels and washcloths all rolled up. It looked sort of like a pink flower. I admit, that was pushing it a bit.

And then, only after EVERY SINGLE ROOM in the house has been touched by the blitzkrieg, they're gone. As quickly as they came, they're on their way home. That sudden quiet in the midst of a house sucked dry of every shred of orderliness that once existed is like when the music ended at Woodstock. The silence is deafening, the mess daunting and the happy little high that the kids gave you went home with them. Now what?

Naturally, I just went to bed. Of course that means that at this moment there are paintings on my canvasses, paint itself and numerous other toys and half filled glasses of apple juice, iced tea and milk spread out in my living room. The toilet seat in the hallway bathroom is up, my ice cream is gone and Spiderman 3 is in my DVD player. I must be going now.

I guess the millennium isn't so bad after all.

:)

My pussy-whipped ex...

...has a nutty wife who loves to keep up with my life. I would find it complimentary if she wasn't so cruel to everyone in my ex's family, from his kids to his elderly parents. I don't mind when she bugs me, she's been doing it ever since she met my ex...after I dumped him and remarried. You would think that she would get over it but for some reason, she can't. She's been harrassing me for 20 years and usually I just let it go. But every so often, she pushes it a bit too far.

I know that she and my ex are having serious marital problems, the entire family knows that. But I can count the times that I've met this nut on one hand and I could count the times I've spoken to her on two hands. I haven't been with my ex in well over 20 years so why this nut can't let it go is beyond me.

The really sad part is that she will blame this post on someone else...either my in-laws or one of my kids. But, she cannot be allowed to harrass so many people without anyone ever pushing back. So, here's a bit of a shove, Dee Colletti. It's because of YOUR behavior, not ANYONE elses. How much do they know about what you do late at night online when you're drunk? I heard it's snowing out there near Chicago, how's the weather in Addison?

Shortly after this nut married my ex, Mark, she got her mother to call me to ask me to let her and my ex HAVE my children. It's hard to tell what she told her mother to make her think that she could call a perfect stranger with parental advice and I don't care. I would wager that her mother is something like Cindy Anthony...she believes whatever her drunken daughter tells her.

Well Dee, Merry Christmas to you...sorry to see that you're still a miserable human being. When you were 17 and married to your 34 year old meal ticket, I thought that you would eventually grow up. But, now you're pushing 40 and you're just as pathetic as you ever have been.

Now go tell everyone how you GAVE me your clothes. But, you should be ready to explain how my size 4 ass fit in your size 18's.

:)

There are only a few more days...

...of shopping before Christmas. That reminds me, I should put up that stupid tree sometime soon. Or, I could just leave my poinsettia sitting where it is and put a bowlful of Christmas Candy Kisses under it. Yeah, that's about as much Christmas spirit as I have this year.

At my age, all I want for Christmas is to live until another one rolls around. I've never been one to shop in August for gifts to be given in December but my kids grandmother does that. She's been ready for weeks even though she worries constantly that she may have forgotten someone. If I were pushing 80, I would worry about that too. Funny, I'm not at all worried about it now.

I've been asking for a bike for the past 15 years worth of gift giving occasions and I still haven't gotten one. If people had just given me a dollar every time I hinted about that bike, I'd have one helluva bicycle right now. Oh, what I wouldn't give for my purple Schwinn that I had when I was a little girl. Anyway, I'll be lucky if I get a bad gift this year.

Bad gifts aren't as bad as they first appear. Sure, a cheap doll with a head that spins as it plays, 'These are a Few of my Favorite Things' seems pretty stupid when you open the box...but here it is over 20 years later and I am still laughing over the doll that he so lovingly shopped for. By the way, I don't collect dolls and I don't go around spinning my head around or singing Julie Andrews tunes.

I had to know one thing, "Is this what he set OUT to buy for me or did he just see it and say to himself, 'That's the perfect gift for her!'?" Looking back, I believe it was sitting in between the door and the cash register because I doubt he walked any further than that.

One year Rick and I had a mouse problem. It was in the fall and we had solved the problem in October. So, when I opened my gift that Christmas, vermin was nowhere in my mind. I looked down at the earrings in the box and asked, "Are they cats?"

He smiled proudly and stated, "No! They're mice! Remember the mice we had last fall?"

I just thanked the Lord that we didn't have cockroaches.

I think I would rather just sit under the tree and open up an Easy Bake Oven like I did in 1969. I spent that entire day baking with my Easy Bake Oven and by the time the day was over, I had cooked all of the mixes that came with the stupid thing. I never got to use it again. Now I know how to mix tiny batches of cake mix...I just don't know many people who would want a tiny cake.

Oh, I need some more of those round things...you know...the things you make pot holders with. I have two of the red squares and one weaver thingie, all I need are the big stretchy round things and I'm back in business.

I need another big box of crayons, my grandkids messed up the box that I had kept in such nice condition for so long. Oh, and some pastels...I'm pretty easy to please. But, I have a feeling that I'm going to get stuff that people think I need. If that's true, I could use some cute knee high socks and some flowered thermal underwear. I do love my long johns in the winter.

Some people don't pay a BIT of attention when you tell them what you want because they know better than you what you want/need. My father didn't like the fact that I didn't have an answering machine. He whined about it all the time. I told him I didn't care and that if I'm home, I'm home, if I'm not, I'm not. Duh. It's been working for YEARS just like that. So, what did he do when Christmas rolled around? He bought me a new phone with it's own answering machine. Then, he balked at my greeting. He's one of those 'you can't please some of the people any of the time' folks.

I've had the police at my house twice this year...both times they were sent by my daughter. She lives in LA and she couldn't get in touch with me so, she sent the cops to check up on me. Once I wasn't home but I called home while the cops were there. My poor roommate at the time wasn't happy about that and neither was my date.

Then, halfway through Thanksgiving, I was minding my own business, watching TV. But, apparently I had accidentally pulled the plug out of the phone and no one could call me. So, after another visit by the Marietta Police Department, I was "code 4", whatever that is.

Anyway...I wouldn't be the least surprised to find a cell phone in a gift wrapped box this year. I've avoided one for years and now people don't even believe me when I tell them that I don't have one. What's that all about? I have a working rotary phone, how many of you can say that?

So many of the gifts that we give are just prop gifts. They're there to be opened on Christmas Day only to be taken back and exchanged after the prices go down. If we only knew which people wouldn't like the gift that we picked out, we could just give them a paper gift certificate.

Oh, and what the heck is wrong with gift certificates? Why do people say that "they take no thought"? Who said that a gift required thought? Those mouse earrings didn't require any thought...I doubt my ex was going from store to store combing the jewelry cases for mouse earrings. Somehow I survived.

If anyone out there is worried that I might be offended by a gift certificate, please...worry no more. I'll take it with a smile. Don't give it another thought. Now you can go shop for someone who will read meaning into your gift.

One more thing before I go...men...don't be stupid. No mouse earrings or dolls for grown women. If all else fails, a pretty little necklace with a diamond on it will keep her happy. Also, read the post beneath the snakes...but pay attention to the snakes on your way there...it's not a coincidence that those snakes are in between a story about a dumb husband and gift giving!

He Shoulda Played Possum

Found on same page:

Possum Problem
Atlanta Wildlife Removal Experts. Call Now For Your Free Estimate.
www.KeystoneWildLifeServices.com

Christmas Warning for Men

A husband walks into Victoria's Secret to purchase a sheer negligee for his wife. He is shown several possibilities that range from $250 to $500 in price -- the more sheer, the higher the price.

Naturally, he opts for the most sheer item, pays the $500, and takes it home.

He presents it to his wife and asks her to go upstairs, put it on, and model it for him.

Upstairs the wife thinks (I'm no dummy ), 'I have an idea. It's so sheer that it might as well be nothing. I won't put it on, but I'll do the modeling naked, return it tomorrow, and keep the $500 refund for myself.'

She appears naked on the balcony and strikes a pose.

The husband says, 'Good Grief! You'd think for $500, they'd at least iron it!'

He never heard the shot. Funeral on Thursday at Noon. Closed coffin.

GREETINGS FROM THE BAHAMAS

Picture with comment bubble proving it was NOT a suicide. It was simply a tragic accident.

Hey dude,

You're "chipping" away at me. CO---STAN-ZA!

:)

When I was considering moving...

...to Atlanta, I asked a fellow New Yorker who had just moved to Atlanta how she liked it. She said that it was a pretty good city, except for the fact that women seem to get murdered rather often down here. She was right, I got here in the middle of the Fred Tokarz uproar. Now he's serving time for killing his wife, or having someone else do it. One way or another, the poor wife is dead and her children have no mother. (But...they do have the memories of being witness to her murder.)

The point is ever since then there HAVE been one woman after another reported missing. Most are eventually found and, as often as not, the husbands are "subjects of interest" yet they live their life as though all is right with the world. I lived here for a while before I traveled out of state and I figured something out. It's not just Atlanta; women are being murdered all over the place. It's a scary thought until you think about the fact that so many of them are volunteers. I try to avoid murderers whenever possible and I would certainly run at the first hint of a woman killer.

But, I'm a bit more experienced and probably a tad more jaded than your average 23 year old so call me kookie, but I wouldn't fall for ANYTHING a murderer would say. It appears as though Stacy Peterson's husband, Drew, has gotten himself engaged. Somehow, that arrogant ex-cop found someone young and stupid enough to say, "OMG! Sure I'll marry you!"

I firmly believe that even when I WAS 23, I would have been bright enough to stay far away from a guy accused of killing a woman...or in this case, a couple of them.

I have to think that eventually Stacy's remains will be found. But it appears as though, until that happens, Drew is going to stick with his stupid, nonsensical story that an otherwise normal young mother suddenly vanished and left her kids behind with her husband. By that time she had to have known how much dangerous potential this dude had rolling around his head. But still, her kids are with him and she is...where? On an island in the South Pacific? It must drive the cops nuts to listen to the constant crapola that Peterson spews.

Although Peterson denies it, all clues point to a young girl named Christina Raines. Her father, Ernie Raines, as one might imagine, is none too pleased about this. He has a message for the man who, if history repeats itself, will one day be Christina's widower..."I'd kill for my kids, you know that". And to his daughter he says, "if you don't answer your cell phone, don't worry about it. I'll drive my Cadillac right through his house." I can only hope that he's using those words figuratively instead of literally. Driving a machete through his chest would be better.

Peterson better hope that he never goes to trial. He's a walking case FOR jury nullification. No jury would let him go and no judge would want to be compared to Lance Ito for the rest of his or her life. So, the old guy who digs chicks who are too young and naive to see through him has found another one. I'm sure that stupid has to fit in there somewhere as well.

If I were the chick in question, rather than trying to commit suicide by crazy ex-cop, I would at least take some time. And, I would question his ability to keep his vows after he says things like, "I was married to Kathleen when I was engaged to Stacy." I can hear him now, "It's no big deal...I don't FEEL married anymore...I feel like having a pliable young piece of ass whom I can manipulate."

Oh, Christina, Christina, Christina. Think this one through really, really hard. Did you ever say anything along these lines, "I can't believe ANY woman would go on a date with OJ Simpson?" I wonder if Christina would date OJ Simpson? (Of course she can't do that now, as will ALWAYS happen, the big house eventually won.) It's odd how people give great advice to friends, but then they turn around and do something totally insane. I bet Christina would have been appalled if her best friend or sister had become engaged to the man who I voted 'Most Likely to be Hit by a Bat if I Were to Run Into Him'.

Another point to consider, as OJ so aptly showed us all, Karma is alive and well. I wouldn't want to be married to a major Karma target. Heck, I wouldn't even want to be in the same state as that one!

Medical science has advanced...

...to a scary level. A couple of weeks ago surgeons attached a cadaver face to a live person. Now, with all due respect to the patient and her family, let me begin by saying that I wish her the speediest of recoveries and the most successful of transplants as she goes through life with an improved self esteem. I heard some people discuss whether or not it was a good idea to transplant a face...it's as good an idea as is a replacement boob. Maybe even better, I could drop a tomato in my bra, I can't fake a face.

All respects being paid, now I simply must say something. BWAHAHAHAHA!!! Are you kidding me? That poor chick has to face every single day seeing her donor when she looks in the mirror instead of herself. It gives an entire new meaning to the sentence, "I see dead people!" The ethics of the procedure were discussed and it was decided that in cases of massive trauma where the victim has no other options...and no other face...they will scrape the face off of a dead guy and put it on a live person.

While discussing the merits of this case, one anchor woman from CNN made quite the racist little comment. She said that "...obviously you can't put a black face on a white person..." Well, I want to know this, why can't you? All the gray temples in the world won't be as distinguished as will the white person with the black face.

If the tissue is compatible, there should be no problem with a trans-racial face transplant. To imply that there is a problem with that is akin to saying, "Well, no face at all is better than a black face!" and when she dismissed the idea of trans-racial face transplants, that's the message she sent.

Oh, by the way, has anyone told Michael Jackson about this? I can hear him now in his little Mickey Mouse voice saying, "Did you hear that! They can transplant an entire face and all I need is a nose! Yippee! Yippee! Call the local morgue and tell them I'll take any nose they have. If it looks bad, I can always have another 32 nose jobs! OMG! I'm the universal recipient of all noses...I can get a new one every WEEEEEEEK!" Color wouldn't be an issue and they wouldn't haven't to last that long if you had a steady supply of dead people noses, you could get a new one before rejection screws up the old one. Michael may be broke, but I bet he could trade a song by the Beatles for a nose or two. Heck, I'd give him my nose for 'Yesterday' today!

There are a few other people who could benefit from a face transplant. Not that they should get one to help THEM...it's more or less a safeguard for society. Some faces just don't belong in public. Off the top of my head I can think of that chick who's having multiple surgeries to turn into Barbie, Jim Carville and, of course, Nancy Grace. I considered adding Arnold to that list but like Burt Reynolds, all he needs is real skin instead of whatever he's crafted that face out of.

Can you imagine what could happen if this practice caught on? Jennifer Anniston could shoot Angelina Jolie in her artificial heart and some spoiled teenager could say, "Daddy...buy me Angelina Jolie's face...pleeeeease!!!"

Famous people could auction their faces off before they die and raise a LOT of money. As a matter of fact, that is one helluva an idea and I want in on it. Not as a customer, I'll deal with the face I have...but I'd like to be involved somewhere in the transaction. I could be the first commercial face auctioneer.

And I wouldn't allow racism to enter into my business at all. If some white chick wants to look like Beyonce, I say, as long as the tissue matches, let the girl look like Beyonce!

I can see the personal ads now, "SWM seeking white chick with black face for intimate encounters." You know some guys would develop a fetish for the face people. And who knows, in another hundred years it could be the "look" sought out by Vogue and other such trendsetting publications.

Yeah, I think face transplants are a good thing. But, just in case the Jehovah's Witnesses are right, I think that we should slap the recipient's old face on the donor before burial. Face transplants might seem a bit odd, but then again, some men have their asses sliced off and attached to their heads. And perhaps the face transplant technology will help bald men too! If they get good enough at it, they can find a hairy Greek ass to attach to a bald Irish head! Like stem cell research, the possibilities are endless.

:)

This is just too cute!

I'm really annoyed right now...

...and it's not the sort of situation that would be improved by committing it to the Internet. But I must say, it's left me feeling quite premenstrual and right now, that shouldn't be.

I found the cure for those homicidal feelings that all women get a day or so before they send their husband's to the store for Tampons...Xanax. It's a wonderful little pill and all men should get a bottle of it so that they can whip it out and slip it in their wife's soup once she begins showing the signs of morphing into the "Other Woman" inside of each one of us...Maxine.

Maxine is a nasty little woman. We realize that, don't we ladies? But we can't tell that to the men and we surely can't let them think that they can blame a damn thing on Maxine. She pops up every so often and like a tiny little cheerleader in our brains, she eggs us on to do things that she may or may not apologize for later. Maxine absolutely cannot handle finger pointing, if you accuse her of causing any problem you will incur her swift and immediate wrath.

When she is here, her main job is to scan all sensory input looking for a weakness to exploit. Most weaknesses are found around men and people who answer phones and make change. The men ask for it, the phone people and cashiers do not, they're simply easy marks. It's rather sad what Maxine does to those poor people. They rarely, if ever, even see Maxine coming.

She's usually quicker than a blitzkrieg and more explosive than Shock and Awe. And, as the latter term denotes, you do sort of stand in awe, no matter how shocking Maxine may appear. I myself wonder where she gets the nerve to say things like, "These damn fries are cold and I didn't order this Apple Pie you cretin!" and, "I asked you not to do that anymore, are you ignoring me or do you simply not care enough to respect my wishes...huh? Which one is it? It HAS to be one or the other...TELL ME...Are you IGNORING me OR Do you simply NOT CARE enough about me to RESPECT...my...WISH-ES?"

Maxine doesn't take much pleasure in the torturing of cashiers and phone people, but she usually enjoys watching a grown man squirm a bit. She sets up Nancy Grace-like questions with absolutely no good answer and then pounces upon the poor guy as he reads Parade Magazine. Or, she simply messes with their minds. Maxine was here the other day when I was shooting pool. One of the guys from the other team was practicing before we started and he was trying to set up a shot with the pool cue behind his back. Maxine shouted to him, "Hey! You can't do that anymore!"

That ding dong stood there shocked for a moment, and I was just in awe of how quickly Maxine made that boy jump off that table and move that cue to his front side. Maxine had me laughing so hard that it gave her away. There was no reason to bother that kid...she did it simply for her own amusement. And...I must admit, I am drawn to her because I have the same sense of humor and I have to say that I, myself, enjoy watching Maxine at work.

Being single, I don't have a regular dude for Maxine to pick on but that's OK. She had to adjust just a bit. It's true that she can't do an insidious type of torture, she doesn't spend enough time around any one dude. BUT...she can just make the best of the time that she has. So, she quickly and unexpectedly spits out some really good stuff. Anything to get that look of shock on a guy's face...if all else fails there's always, "Blow me!"

Well, that didn't help. I'm still all pissy. Oh well, maybe just one more Xanax...

Is it me...

...or is Nancy Grace an utter and complete whack job? The Maury Povich of cable’s prime time talking heads, CNN’s helmet headed and confused crusader against all perceived evil people and their families, Grace is as rude as she is stupid.

Thanks to a poorly thought out decision to change from cable TV to satellite TV, I admit to finding myself watching that train wreck just long enough to become embarrassed for the woman herself and for the guests whom she abuses. It’s tough to make me uncomfortable in my own home, especially if you’re nowhere near my place. But somehow Nancy Grace did just that.

They do call the people who appear on shows “guests”, don’t they? That would sort of make Grace the hostess, wouldn’t it? Well, that lady needs some serious Amy Vanderbilt books and maybe even a copy of Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People.

You would think that the first time she saw herself ask a question, totally misinterpret the answer and bash someone for something that they didn’t say, she would be careful not to do it again. Or, you would think that if she was daft enough to miss her own idiocy, perhaps her staff might point it out. But they don’t. I’m sure it’s because they love to see her look like a buffoon.

I have no problem with the fact that she soaks every missing child for every single rating and tear that she can. After all, she does keep the pictures and details out there and that’s a good thing. But her attitude gives away her true intent. She has all the sincerity of Dog The Bounty Hunter, all the charm of Judge Judy and all the brains of Jimmy Carter. But the Dog, the Judge and the ex-President all have the ability to comprehend the speech of others. They have to…Dog so that he can arrest them, Judy so that she can attack them and Carter so that he can stick his nose where it doesn't belong.

In case you’ve been lucky enough to have avoided the pit bull of a dog with a chicken bone, this is an example of how she treats those who dare to step into one of those tiny squares on her show:

Grace: What can you tell me about the blood on her shirt?
Guest: There’s no way to know until the test results come in but it’s possible that she was hit in the mouth during the struggle and that it’s her own blood.
Grace: Oh, oh, oh…are you saying what I think you’re saying? Do you actually believe that her own blood could possibly drip from her mouth during a struggle?! I’m just an attorney, what do I know…Dr. Soinso, weigh in please.
Dr. Soinso: Your other guest was right, we need to wait for the test results to know anything conclusive.
Grace: Oh my Lord! Am I the only one left with a brain cell here?!

I could almost understand Grace’s cult following…if she weren’t so incredibly consistent with her misunderstandings of the people whom she invites on to her show. Why they keep coming, I haven’t a clue. After the show, I can picture her walking away mumbling to herself, “I don’t know why they make me have guests, everyone but me is a MORON!”

Her show is just that, a show…and she is a showman. But who in the world wants to watch a show about a goofy looking stupid chick who invites people over every night to make them look foolish? I don’t get it.

After my stint on that Judge Pirro Show, I realized how much of those shows are staged. That experience sort of busted my reality TV cherry. Now I see how producers manipulate people and situations for ratings. I guess I always knew that they did that but until Pirro made ME look foolish for helping out a family member, I didn’t realize how pliable the audience was.

Grace may be an ignorant blond nit wit but she does recognize the pliability of most TV viewers. And just in case the viewer feels the slightest pang of empathy for someone like George and Cindy Anthony, who’s only crime is trusting and coddling a lying, manipulative daughter, Grace will do her best to wipe that affinity out of any heart that she can.

The Caylee Anthony story is a sad one, indeed. And I’m sure that if the Anthony’s had anything to do with their granddaughter’s disappearance, we would know it by now. Everything else in the story has been leaked by the prosecution.

The cops leaked the tapes of visits between the Anthony’s and their daughter. What POSSIBLE reason could they have for doing that? And when they did, Grace showed the same tapes over and over again and dissected every single sentence that was said. And then, when the family stopped giving her fodder for her show, she berated them publicly for not “consoling” their daughter in front of the cameras.

Grace reminds me of Bernie Mac’s character in Guess Who where he accuses Aston Kutcher’s character of racism when he doesn’t “trust” a hotel bellboy with his luggage. Then, when Kutcher asks the bellboy for help, Mac says, “Oh sure, treat him like your personal slave!” There was nothing that Kutcher’s character could have done to please Mac’s character and there’s not a damn thing that those poor grandparents can do to avoid Grace’s wrath.

I have a beautiful little granddaughter myself and I simply cannot imagine what those people must be going through. I also have imperfect children whom I love desperately.

Many parents feel the pain of raising a child only to see that child go to prison for decades. That in itself would be a heart-breaker. Many other parents and grandparents lose children. The pain of that is too hideous to even contemplate. The pain and emotional trauma that goes along with experiencing both events must be exponentially more acute.

I’ll agree that the Anthony’s raised their daughter in an enabling manner. She learned to be such a narcissistic monster somewhere. And perhaps they even continue to enable her. But they are the only people being deceived by Casey. The authorities, who are the only people who matter anyway, aren’t fooled by her at all. Let her parents grieve and deal with this dreadful situation on their own timetable. Not much can be hurt by allowing them that small concession, even Nancy Grace could still bitch, she should just keep her bitchiness aimed at the appropriate target.

If I could ask one question of Ms. Grace, it would be this, “What can the Anthony’s do that would make you happy?” I think already know the answer to that question.

I bet you a dollar to a donut that if Nancy Grace had been here 2000 years ago, she would be in charge of stoning social lepers of any and all types. If the Anthony’s refuse to throw a huge stone or two at their own daughter, Grace won’t let up on them…ever. I’m sure that it was someone with just her personality type who thought up games for the masses to watch in the Coliseum when condemned prisoners were sent to their deaths in various painful manners.

I don’t for a moment mean to suggest that the victims of Grace’s wrath don’t deserve some degree of uncomfortable retribution for their acts, most of them are pretty hideous people and perhaps the entire Anthony family are all hideous people. But I do question the earnest manner in which Nancy Grace assumes responsibility for chastising all who stand accused of a crime and even many who do not. Her methods and her misplaced tenacity only stand to suggest that being tried in the “courtroom of Nancy Grace” is more severe than being tried in a real court and the process is as vindictive, if not more so. You could almost claim Double Jeopardy after being tried in the savage and truculent “Court Of Grace”.

http://nancygraceisanitwit.blogspot.com/

I've run into some creepy men in my life...

...and I've let a lot of red flags go unheeded. But I just learned about a man who's name is actually Thomas Badman. Now, that would, at the very least, put me on a higher asshole alert than would a guy named Jack Goodman. But some poor chick didn't see that huge red flag waving right in her face and she ended up being strangled into unconsciousness and left with 12 stitches and multiple bodily injuries. Allegedly, Tom Badman did it to her.

You can find Badman where all Bad Men belong, in the Cobb County Adult Detention Center in Marietta, Georgia. He'll be coming up for arraignment on January 30th of next year on 2 charges of battery and one felony count of aggravated assault. He must be one helluva bad man because after multiple court appearances, he is still being held without bond for a beating that he allegedly delivered to a WOMAN last February.

It seems as though he had assaulted the same woman earlier but when she didn't show up for the court date, he felt empowered to go and allegedly beat the shit out of her for calling the cops in the first place. I can't figure out who the bigger idiot is in this story.

Thomas Badman is one nasty Scaramouch. In case you were never as curious as I was to look that word up after Queen sang it in Bohemian Rhapsody, it means "cowardly buffoon". In my humble opinion, Thomas Atwood Badman is a Scaramouch of epic proportions.

Ladies, I can understand how easily some red flags can be missed. Especially by those of us with lesser self esteems. But listen to me and pay close attention...if a guy's fricking NAME is BADMAN...do yourself a favor and go find a harmless bum to date.

UPDATE: Those who would know state that this is another amazing case of karma coming back to haunt a serious jerk. Oh, and the cops ALL know this guy. How anonymous can you remain in jail with the name BADMAN?

I had an interesting weekend...

...although I spent most of it being lazy. Friday night I crawled into bed early and covered myself up with at least 4 blankets. I was looking forward to cuddling up with my dog and cats as I fell asleep watching TV. Just as I settled into the bed, the phone rang.

I answered it and some guy asked for me by name. I had no clue who it was so I played it off like this:

Him: Meg?
Me: Yes?
Him: It's me, Jeff.
Me: Hi Jeff, how are you doing tonight?

I don't know any Jeff (not his real name of course) but just in case it was another one of those things that my stupid head forgot, I thought that I should act as if I did. We chatted briefly before I heard him say, "You cross your 7's like I do!" (He was referring to the way my phone number was written.) I knew exactly what he meant and I do NOT do that so it made me start wondering who this dude was. Then, he called me by my maiden name instead of my legal name so I really started to become intrigued.

All sorts of thing were going through my head, even the possibility that some nit wit was going around using my name and giving my number out to guys that she didn't want to give her own number to.

We tried to figure it out for a while but he was SURE that he had gotten my number from me and that I was a chick he had "picked up" a couple of weeks ago. He mentioned the place that my old roommate worked and I told him that although I've driven there to pick her up, I've never been inside of the place. We eventually gave up that discussion and started talking about ourselves. And then he told me why he was finally calling me...he needed a date for a Christmas party Saturday night.

The party was church related and he seemed like a nice guy so I decided to go with him. He came by and got me Saturday night and we had a great time.

Then, Jess, my old roommate, came by last night to get more of her stuff. I told her what happened. She asked if his last name was **** and I said that it was. That's when she told me how he ended up with my number. I haven't spoken to him since but when I do, I'll have to pick on him a bit.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon I was trying to take a short nap on my couch when Jess called to say she would be stopping by. I said that was fine and I collapsed back onto my couch. Just as I did, the phone rang again and it was Confusing Dude. I told him that I was going to finish my nap and that I would call him back.

Then, as I laid back down on the couch I thought to myself, "Are you nuts?" I got right up and called him back immediately. He wanted to know if I wanted to go out for dinner. Of course I said that I wanted to go out with him so we did. After dinner he came over and we watched a few episodes of South Park. There was one episode that I wanted him to see because I knew he would get a kick out of it. So, we watched that one first.

I knew he would like it and I was right, he was laughing so hard he couldn't stop. I like it when people laugh that hard, don't you? It's rather contagious.

Today I've decided not to try to analyze that guy. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel differently, but for now, I'm good.

By the way, in case you didn't pick up on it, I went out with 2 guys over the weekend and BOTH of them were perfect gentlemen. I do believe that's a record.

According to reliable sources...

...Santa Claus got an early gift this year. A North Pole insider states that the card on the gift was signed by Mrs. Claus, Prancer and an unidentified elf. Although there has been strict security all around Claus's North Pole compound, we have learned that the gift is the first real update to the Christmas Sleigh since Rudolph was moved to the lead reindeer position.

It's common knowledge that Santa traded in his mahogany runners for a pair of the shiniest white gold runners that the world has ever seen about 500 years ago. And of course, the sleigh bells sound much, much better ever since Mrs. Claus took down the dried walnuts and replaced them with silver bells in the 1100's. Santa even had a special ramp installed a few years back when he hired his first one legged elf.

But all of these changes will pale in comparison to the latest change to the old sleigh. Apparently, the gift includes a new GPS system as well as a new computer trunk where 3 elves will operate the toy bag as it replenishes the presents in mid air. The gift replenishing technology of old won't do at all anymore. There are just too many children to be visited and the older mechanism almost ran out of toys over South Jersey last year, necessitating the updates.

Back when there were only a few hundred children spread out around the Fertile Crescent, Santa's Sleigh was basically a large wooden platform and a chair pulled by 4 camels. As humans spread out around the world, Santa's Sleigh has truly kept up with the times. When people started to build boats, Santa had an inflatable pontoon built onto the bottom of the sleigh. Eventually, even after Santa traded in his camels for the reindeer, he had to develop a way to fly. Of course that change came about in the early 200's.

Then, when the weather patterns changed around the world, Rudolph saved Christmas the year of the Cloudy Night. As we all know, Rudolph with his nose so bright, helped Santa drive his sleigh that night. Rudolph has maintained the lead reindeer position ever since. After electric lights were invented, many thought that Rudolph and his nose were out of business but the lack of a really, really long electric plug assured Rudolph his job. Then of course, when the children started hearing about what Rudolph had done, he became a sentimental favorite and to this day, Santa refuses to entertain thoughts of moving Rudolph away from the front of the pack.

Although Santa never releases many details about his sleigh, we do know that it has a 3000 reindeer power engine. Most people mistakenly believe that the reindeer out front pull the sleigh but they don't. The reindeer that you can see simply steer the sleigh and with the new GPS system, a lot of mistakes will be avoided. One year Donner sneezed and everyone got confused leading Santa to actually drop a piece of coal down a good boy's chimney. That was the event that led to Santa's Declaration of '76, "As Mrs. Claus is my witness, I will never send a good child a piece of coal again!" And he kept his word but after a couple of close calls, he spent a lot of his off season tinkering with different solutions to that problem. (Oh, and Donner takes an anti-histamine every Christmas Eve, right before they suit up for take off.)

Whether or not Santa will grant us a peek at his tricked out sleigh is not known. But most newspapers are offering a LOT of money to anyone who gets a picture of Santa on the new sleigh. Of course, it's difficult to snap a picture of something that moves at Mach 8, but maybe one day camera technology will catch up with Santa and his contacts in Never Never Land, but it's not likely

If I used dildo's...

...I would keep that to myself. I sure as hell wouldn't advertise that I had to build an entire man. But thanks to some nerd named Le, from Ontario Canada who has far too much time and disposable cash, we now have a robo-woman, "Devoted Aiko — “in her 20s” — 'who' has a stunning 32-23-33 figure, pretty face and shiny hair."

The real men that I date might be confusing, and they might be less than perfect when it comes to physical attributes, but I think I'll just deal with them and their annoying little quirks rather than build my own.

I must admit, the idea of creating the perfect man is one that can appeal to a woman...for a moment. Then you realize that if the dude was perfect, you wouldn't EVER have an excuse to bitch. How long do you think a woman can go without bitching? That would sort of take all of the meaning out of our lives.

The freak from Ontario has shown us all what he thinks women are for when he says that, "She is always happy to clean the house for “husband” Le, help with his accounts or get him a drink....Aiko doesn’t need holidays, food or rest, and will work almost 24 hours a day. She is the perfect woman."

His perfect woman doesn't need a shred of intelligence, a sense of humor or the tiniest bit of self respect. I guess he had to build his own female when he found out that Angelina Jolie was taken.

Of course Le says his relationship with Aiko hasn’t become physical but "a few “tweaks” could turn her into a sexual partner. Le said: “Her software could be redesigned to simulate her having an orgasm.” I find it amazing that this man couldn't find a real woman who would simulate orgasms for him.

So, if the perfect woman cooks, cleans and doesn't require a gift once in a while, what do you suppose the perfect man would be like? I guess he would take out the trash, maintain automobiles and even do housework. He wouldn't ever bitch when we wanted to go out or if we wanted to speak to an old boyfriend, and he would even be nice to our mothers. He would shut up when we told him to and he would come hither when we call for him. It's starting to look like the perfect man is a wimp, isn't it? I've had a couple of those and there's nothing at all manly about them.

And the entire sex thing is pretty iffy...I can't imagine having sex with a robot. But, I must say, the idea of creating a man who's dick is on his chin is very intriguing indeed. If I had one of those I would be a better, more obedient wife than Aiko could ever be. But men with dicks on their chins don't grow on trees so I'll just keep on being myself for now.

The imperfect guy that I worried myself sick over yesterday called me last night and made me feel truly stupid for acting like I did all day. He didn't do that on purpose, he just did it by acting like a normal person. I should have known better but, being an imperfect female, I guess I couldn't help myself.

I hope that Le and Aiko will be happy together but I wonder about one potential problem...what does he do if he meets a real woman that he likes? Most women don't like competition, even from a piece of machinery. Personally, I would have to push Aiko into the Grand Canyon or something equally destructive.

Now THERE'S a use for fake women...we can toss them off a cliff and avoid a death sentence. I couldn't do that with my ex's real whores...I just had to sit there and fantasize about torturing those wenches. I would almost enjoy a bitch that I could smack the hell out of over and over again.

If I ever run into Le and Aiko, I think I might just kick her in her 23 inch waist, smack her pretty face and pull out a hunk of her shiny hair...just to be a bitch.

I told you that I would...

...let you know how my plan turned out Monday night. It went just fine. We still haven't done "it" but that's OK, I had enough red wine to make it a bad idea that night. Although, that didn't stop me from having quite a bit of fun. :)

The problem is that it's left me more confused than ever. I thought it would answer my questions but it didn't do that at all. It just made things worse. I'm a nit wit. I'm about ready to just give up and stomp off into my own little corner.

I don't understand men at all. They either want to nail you on the first date or years after it. I can handle the first kind, I just say, "Fuck off." But the other kind of guys are baffling little mysteries and I'm about ready to just join a convent. Seriously, I have really, really thought of that. I'm not sure what the convent rules regarding fuckbuddies are, I would have to keep that guy. He's the only one that I DO understand.

It's all good. It's just that I've kept my feelings for this guy under control for long enough. I've known him for close to ten years and after a while, feelings can just sneak up on you. Generally I don't give them a second thought but now I am...and that can't be. I'll be damned if I'm going to have feelings for a guy. That has NEVER worked out for me. I may try it again, but like one of 2 people about to jump off a cliff would say, "You first."

In the meantime, I'll finish a painting that I started a while back. I haven't worked on it in forever so I really should get back to it. That way I can be distracted rather than sit here trying to figure out a guy. And then, sometime soon, my sweetie of a fuckbuddy will come over and take care of any other tensions that I might be experiencing and I'll be golden.

I think that I just figured that guy out and I wasn't even trying to! I had a total epiphany and it hit me that his entire problem is that he never shows any vulnerability! TA DA!

I don't know what the hell to do with that information but now I see, he's just as frightened as I am. Cool. I can handle that.

Oh well, if they don't get you coming, they'll get you going so I shouldn't expect much anyway. It's raining outside and it has been for a couple of days. My dog hates the rain and won't go out in it unless I take him out on the leash. Last night I had to take him for a walk in the rain and I did not enjoy that one bit. I got halfway around the block before I turned around and went back the way I had come. The rain was mixing with the falling leaves to make for a slippery sidewalk and I wasn't in the mood to be lying on the side of the road with a broken bone. If I had kept walking the way I was headed, I would have walked down a sidewalk right next to the street and that's too close to cars for me to even consider falling. With my luck I'd fall and the car would just run over my head. I wonder if they would bury me with the smashed head or if they would just wipe it up and throw it away? Do you know? I never thought of that before.

It seems as though I'm going to have to go out in the rain again and I do so hate that. I could take an umbrella but that wouldn't really let me control the dog as much as I need to. Think about it, Mary Poppins didn't have a dog.

Well, I should be on my way. I might come up with something fun to do and I might just get wet, but one way or another, I have to act like I'm going somewhere.

During my last year at...

...Fenton High School, they decided to take off the back wall for some construction. I spent most of my senior year running back and forth to my locker to grab my coat before heading to that hall. I don't know why they made us suffer like that. Today some parent would call the news and you'd read about all the poor students in the school who had to freeze their backsides off during a miserable Chicago winter. But in 1976, it was considered quite OK the freeze us out. Then again, our parents were allowed to hit us too.

Unfortunately, we grew up the last generation to be spanked and the first generation that couldn't smack our own little darlings. It hardly seems fair. But somehow, I've managed to go on.

My senior year was actually quite fun. Especially Chemistry with Walkwitz. I was the only chick in that class and Hess and Fess messed me up. They kept me laughing too much to pass that class. But I did learn that Hess liked to party in "Calumet Citeeee!" I never went with him, and to tell you the truth, I don't really know if he ever went there. I think that maybe he might just liked to say "Calumet Citeeee!" Luckily I left those two behind and now I have 2 degrees in science. Go figure.

I'm sort of stuck down in Georgia (Please, if you can, come get me and I'll never ever leave home again.) and what should I find out? Hess is too. Of all the people that I went to Fenton with for 4 years, imagine it being the partying "Calumet Citeeee!" dude who lives a few miles from me!

Donna Richardson was teaching some rather radical concepts back then. I don't think we cared so much as to go tell our parents about the sex that she injected into the curriculum. Once again, Fenton dodged a potential media frenzy for teaching such new ideas as legalized abortion and actual sexual technique. Luckily for her, she didn't mention gay people. Nobody cared back then. But if she had, I'm sure that would have upset our parents who are all in their 70's and 80's now. The Greatest Generation wouldn't have taken kindly to the gay discussion.

I did have one helluva gay teacher and Speech Team coach who was in the top 2 beat teachers that I ever ran across in all my years of sitting in desks. He was rather gay. (That's my way of saying that he was, at school anyway, a rather conservative flaming gay guy.) But that man made learning so much fun that I always, always enjoyed his class or the speech team practices. In my try-out for the team, I told the lamest of jokes and F.T. loved it. It was stupid and childish but I think that's what made ME like it at the time:

A man is released from prison after 20 years. He's running out the door shouting, "I'm FREE! I'm FREE!"
Well, right then a little boy was riding his tricycle and as he rode past the man, he shouted out, "Oh yeah? Well, I'm FOUR!"

That's it. You should have seen that man laugh after I told that dumb joke. What a sport he was.

Sticking with my vow never to date the guys from Fenton because of the taunting that I received in 8th grade, I dated a guy who lived in Elk Grove but was away at Western. But there were 2 cute guys in Soc class that I would have jumped on if the circumstances were right. But, I remained true to my college man and did a lot of babysitting that year. He did come back for special occasions so I did get to the prom. At this point I must thank Mike Simo for not hitting me on the head with a broom at the prom.

Those eighth grade guy bullies were nowhere near as bad as the chick bullies. Those girls were vicious little suckers. I avoided Lori Simec for a year over something Darice Netrefa told her that I said, I don't remember what. I couldn't have said anything, I had no idea who Lori Simec was until she confronted me for the first time. An aside, I ran into Darice at a Bingo game years later, what a lovely young mother she was at the time! I have no clue what happened to Lori Simec.

But somehow I managed to graduate, part of the first class to ever graduate in the new field house. I don't think it's very new now...but when the back wall of the school was gone, it was brand spanking new. And then, ten years later, we had the reunion. For some stupid reason I stuck a small bottle of rum in my purse and drank most of it that night. I am SOOOOOO sorry that I did that. First of all, I acted like an idiot to a very nice man who just wanted to ask me a question and then, my nit wit ex husband let me try to drive. I was parked on a circular drive with cars in front of me and behind me. I hit them both, at least once. And then I noticed the class members who were all still standing around the entrance. They were all staring at me, jaws dropped. I will NEVER get that picture out of my mind. It was awful. It kept me from going back to any reunions after that.

But, now I think I'm ready to face another reunion. So, is anyone thinking of something to do for The Class of '76 and the 35th reunion that's coming up? Who does that kind of stuff? I'm sure it's some woman who was on the yearbook committee or something like that. Or maybe one of those girls who worked in the office. I worked in the office briefly but about all I accomplished was the interception of any and all cut slips that were going home to my friends and their parents.

Anyway, what's up with that reunion?

I've been downsizing...

...as much as I can so that I'll be able to move without having to worry as much. I have no clue when I would be moving but I am determined to do just that. This 3 bedroom house and huge yard is just too much. It's too much in rent, it's too much to maintain and it's too much house for one tiny little lady. So, whenever I am in a position to move into a smaller place with no lawn care, it'll be easier for me to pick up and move if I get rid of extraneous heavy crap.

Of course moving is never easy, but I don't even want to try it with my huge fish tanks. If I'm trying for a one bedroom, I don't need more than one bed either. If I had my druthers, I'druther have two twin beds than one queen size. I'd like to do my room in a Brady Bunch girl's room sort of motif.

When I was a kid, no one told me that I could do whatever I wanted to do as long as I wanted it badly enough so I never knew that I could have built a Brady-like house. I might have had a tough time finding that Brady Bunch orange kitchen stuff but I would have fun trying. You know what? I just decided that my apartment, wherever it is and whenever I get there, will be done in total retro. I wonder if they still make avocado green refrigerators? Or shag carpeting...hmm. I bet they do.

I digested again.

In my efforts to downsize, both of my fish tanks left over the weekend. Now I have 2 huge dirty spots that I couldn't get to as long as the aquariums were on the cabinets. Now even the wall is funky. I'll have to get my feather duster and take care of that...and the floor...and I'll have to do it soon. I'm having a guest for dinner. I've spoken of him before, he's the one who I've been seeing every so often for years and he's never really made a move on me. I have no idea what to expect tonight.

But, I've decided that I am no longer in the mood to wonder. I'm going to take matters into my own hands tonight. I'll let you know how that turns out.

I'm going to the store today to get the stuff to make dinner with. I'd like to bar-b-que, I don't care if it is 3 degrees. With all the layers of clothes that I put on, I could easily handle an outside grill. I could pretty much cook everything with the grill. The only problem is that with most men, you're taking a chance with the vegetables...you don't want to serve a guy his own version of brussels sprouts and I don't know what this guy likes...or hates. I could grill one each of a few things, like zucchini, peppers and tomatoes...but I should probably have a can of corn ready just in case. I can toss potatoes down in the coals so other than rolls, I could do it all outside. It'd be good practice in case I'm ever homeless.

And then, I could take a little saucepan, put some water and cinnamon in it and then simmer it. (I don't know why people BUY cinnamon smelling stuff when you can just simmer the cinnamon. If you wanted to you could have the whole house smelling like oregano...but I just use spices that you would put in pumpkin pie.) The combination of rolls and cinnamon should put him in a romantic mood. That's what I heard anyway. Men are supposed to be turned on by the smell of cinnamon rolls. I'm gonna pump up the cinnamon tonight, I assure you!

But before I even GET to the cinnamon, I have to clean up my weekend mess including the hideous dust bunnies from hell that were under my aquarium cabinets, solve my vegetable dilemma, go to the grocery store and then I have to primp. That doesn't take me so long except for my hair. It's long enough that I have options, but none of them are easy except the pony tail and tonight is not a pony tail night. Or is it? Hell, I could wear a pony...but I'd have to curl my hair...a plain old pony tail won't do. Or...I could curl it and then clip it up. Damn, I have a date tonight and this hair thing might screw me.

Oh well. I might as well get started with all this stuff. I hate having someone knock on my door while I'm still doing my hair. Yesterday, 20 minutes before the guy came by to get the salt water tank, I walked into a piece of hanging fly paper and I almost had to cut it out of my hair. I finally got if off of my head but not without leaving a bunch of fly paper sticky crap in the hair on top of my head. I had to wash that stuff out before anyone saw it and before it captured anymore of my hair. I washed the top of my head and even conditioned the top of my head really fast so when the guy got there, I opened the door with the top of my head all wet. I chose not to offer an explanation and just let him wonder.

CRAP!!! I just walked across the kitchen and stepped in a puddle of water that Payton left when he drank from the bowl. I have 3 pairs of socks on and a pair of fuzzy footies on my feet. Now I have to change them all. It wouldn't be so bad except this is the second time that I've done it today. So far, I've been through 6 pairs of socks and 2 footies today. I have GOT to put some shoes on.