I have a hard time...

...keeping up with all of the new words that seem to pop up in daily use nowadays. Ordinarily I can figure out the meaning of new words by the way in which they're used. I heard a new word recently and I thought that I knew what it meant. It was used in reference to me by someone who obviously doesn't appreciate my humor so I just figured it was something bad. And since it was used by someone who only knows me online, I knew it had to be because of something that I said or did on this blog.

A while back I wrote a post about my odd feet. I didn't know that they were odd until people started pointing that fact out to me. I have very long fingers, legs and toes and my second toe is so long it's actually longer than my great toe. I posted this picture of my malformed foot to go along with the post regarding people who suffer the same ailment:



My freak toe doesn't bother me, and as far as I know, I've never suffered any discrimination because of it. But, I know how people frozen with 8th grade emotions think and most of them would seize the opportunity to make fun of me and my toe. That's OK, I'm not stuck in 8th grade so I couldn't care less what some nit wit says about me or my abhorrently long second toes.

Having met more than my share of feeble bullies, I can sort of see the effete attacks before they come. So, after publishing that picture of my malformed toe, I wasn't surprised to hear that there was a name for that deformity and some childish man-wannabes were using the derogatory term in reference to me. When I became aware of the sad little attempts to annoy me with the toe jokes, I brushed them off and never really thought about it again.

Then, this morning my daughter said that one of her toes was hurting her. That made me think of my toes and the freaks who made fun of them. My daughter seems to be rather hip about things so I decided to get her opinion and see if my toes qualified for the nasty little moniker given to them by some computer troll.

As my daughter walked into the kitchen where I was sitting at the table, I took the sock off of my right foot, stuck my foot up in the air so that it was pointing at my kid and asked her, "Do I have a camel-toe?"

Well, she knew what it meant. First she looked at my face and then she asked, "Are you kidding?" Of course, I was NOT kidding and she could see that. It caused her to laugh for a very long time. She laughed so hard that she couldn't tell me why it was funny. Eventually she did calm down enough to say, "Look it up on the computer...search images so you can see one."

I did. Apparently camel-toes have absolutely nothing to do with feet, or toes for that matter. Even after she stopped laughing, my daughter couldn't quite explain what an actual camel-toe was, but she was able to say that I did have one in this picture of my backside:



For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it seems as though the camel reference has something to do with two humps.

You know, if I had met someone with a really long second toe, I very well might have called them "Camel-toe". Knowing me, I would have said it right to their face and with my luck, they would have known exactly what a camel-toe was.

I'm glad that the issue came up with my grown daughter, I could have asked ANYONE had the thought popped into my head at a different time. Even so, it was slightly embarrassing. I've asked a few stupid questions in my life...here are some of the more asinine queries that I've made:

1. I took a letter to the Bensenville post office so I could send it to my cousin who lived about 10 miles away. I asked the man if they could send it air mail. He responded, "You could if there were any planes flying from Bensenville to Roselle."

2. After a night of making love I asked the father of my kids what the fishy smell was. He laughed so hard he had an anxiety attack.

3. I asked my father the name of the song that goes, "Bingo, bango, bongo" over and over again. He didn't even laugh, he just shook his head and walked away.

4. I walked into Auto Zone and asked for the "small funnel". I needed one that would help me get the oil in the little hole. Instead, the guy showed me the BIG hole that said OIL.

5. I walked around the Dollar Store looking for someone to tell me how much the sponge in my hand was. Luckily I realized where I was before I actually asked for the price check.

6. My ex had a woman calling our house, I found someone else's make-up in our car, he stopped calling me from work and he treated me like shit. Then I asked, "Is there somebody else?" That may be the single dumbest question that I, or any other woman, has ever asked a man.

I tried to come up with 10 stupid things that I've asked people but I only came up with 6. Do NOT let that lead you to believe that those are the ONLY dumb questions I've ever asked. They're the only 6 that I can come up with right now. I may remember more and if I do, I'll be back to let you know about them.

For now, I have to take my dog for a walk. He LOVES Los Angeles but they do have a law that ALL dogs (except breeding dogs) have to be de-sexed. That poor dog is a virgin and now he has to lose his testicles without ever having a chance to use them. How sad.

I like to think that...

...I occasionally push the envelop when I'm writing. I like to do it and it seems to come naturally to me considering that I just write what's on my mind. I may make a joke about someone's sex organs now and then...but not their religious beliefs. I wouldn't bother doing that even though it might be funny because it's sort of like going out of your way to hurt feelings. Unless you are a husband who cheated on me, I probably won't hurt your feelings if I can avoid it. (Of course there are exceptions to this rule...but you'd really have to be a prick to incur my wrath.)

I'm not sure what Larry David was going for in the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm (he peed on a picture of Jesus Christ) but I suspect it was a play for publicity. His best cerebral work is behind him and without Seinfeld, David is just another Jew with a bad attitude. His character is a nasty little man without the appeal of a Kramer or George. I wouldn't want that nit wit in my house so I won't invite him in by watching his show. As a Seinfeld fan, it seems that everyone wants to give me DVD's of David's latest season. I tried watching the first season and except for a minute when David's pants made it look like he had an erection, I couldn't find anything about the show to be funny.

Obviously the show has it's fans, I'm just not one of them. I'd like to see the episode with the old Seinfeld cast members, but other than that, I have no interest in tuning in to HBO to catch Larry David being a jerk.

It seems as though the pee was actually a splash-back of urine that missed it's target. David wasn't trying to pee on Jesus, but, inadvertently, he did. When a lady subsequently used the restroom, she observed the 'peed upon' Jesus and assumed that the image of Christ was crying, leading her and her mother to kneel down in prayer...right there in the bathroom.

Now, I see the humor in that and I'm sure many others do too. BUT...I'm also sure that some people would be seriously offended and the bit wasn't THAT funny. I would never go to Islamabad and pee on whatever Islamabadians find sacred and I don't think that David should pee on a picture of the most Sacred Being to ever walk the earth in the middle of America which...like it or not...was founded by a bunch of fervent Christians.

If those Christians had settled for some tents and sheets for clothing, America would be like the Gaza Strip. But, we didn't sit around for generations throwing rocks at English people, we built stuff and created the country that many Jews, Muslims and Atheists aspire to call home.

It was the very same Christians who gave us the First Amendment so David is certainly allowed to be annoying, obnoxious and yes...even offensive. I just wonder why he would do so in such a despicable manner...even if it IS funny, and I admit that it is actually VERY funny.

So now that David has crossed the line into offensive humor, I assume another publicity hungry freak will try to top peeing on The Savior of all Mankind. I'm sure that someone, somewhere is trying to top David's little publicity stunt as you read this. In case those people are coming up blank in their efforts, here are a few ideas that just might be offensive to someone and funny to someone else:

1. The Rabbi gets lice from a hooker and passes it on when someone else mistakenly wears his little black beanie. Before long, the entire congregation has lice, except for the Hasidic women who are all wearing wigs.

2. American tourist mistakenly takes a dump in that thing Muslims walk around by the thousands. Shocked...the Muslims take the towels off of their heads and use them to snap the offending crapper to death.

3. Pope answers ad on Craigslist to be a "host" at an S & M party. We find out he likes to play the submissive male and has even been seen hanging from ceilings with a red ball strapped in his mouth.

4. Crazy chick from Jersey goes to Utah and puts birth control pills in the water leading to the eradication of all Mormons except the Osmond family who are actually in on the caper because they want to eliminate the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and replace them with their own family members.

5. Called to treat for cockroaches, an Orkin man kills all of the snakes in a West Virginia church. He replaces them all with garter snakes and becomes famous when the congregation believes that he turned evil serpents into gentle beings.

6. A hemiplegic Auswitch survivor and a blind old nazi share the same room in a nursing home. When they learn of each other's history, hilarity ensues.

7. Shortly after the first gay President takes office, he takes aim at the media who continually refer to him as the Gay Guy-in-Chief. Media strikes back with pictures of the gay president committing sodomy in the Oval Office with 7 prepubescent young boys. Liberal Supreme Court rules that taking it up the backside is NOT technically considered sex so the gay president dude is cleared of all criminal charges and returns to the Oval Office...and to the little boy tourists who get lost in the White House.

8. A Jewish mortician opens a business called Jew-Mart where up to 50 Jews can be cremated and their ashes stuffed into a single receptacle which of course is the no-frills model...you can buy a nicer one but don't let him sell you the ten dollar waterproofing. That's basically just 2 feet of Saran Wrap and you could waterproof the dead people in your own kitchen before you store them in the attic. There are occasionally Jews dumb enough to buy the waterproofing, but it means a mandatory tattoo with a big dunce cap on their left forearms if they do. They call it "Jewish Darwinism".

9. White chick is ship wrecked on island with 32 black guys. She is in charge and the men can't look her straight in the eye, approach her without invitation or fail to perform the day's duty. She immediately commands them to build a new world for her as she goads them on with a whip made out of the same stuff Tom Hanks used to hold his raft together in 'Castaway'.

10. At Joey and Dee's local Pasta-R-Us, an obnoxiously loud Italian family is mowed down, mafia style, while enjoying a meal of eggplant Parmesan. The hit-man was another guinea named Guido. Guido's mother insists on driving him to all of his hits after he gets a DUI. She can be very helpful as she was when her son took out the noisy dagos in the restaurant. She could only shoot the kids, but hey...somebody had to.

Well...

...hanging out with my daughter can be rather dangerous in a weird sort of way. While fixing my hair yesterday, I grabbed my kid's hair spray, aimed it at my head and pushed the button. The left half of my head was covered with a creamy substance that reminded me of an Italian dude I dated in Gogia. It was funny, it didn't matter what the position du jour was, that guy always ended up getting a giant blob of love juice in my hair. My hair is long, but it's not long enough to justify that much cum in it. Obviously, I did NOT grab the hair spray.

Then I picked up some Burt's Bees lip gloss and applied it to my lips. I got my entire lower lip and half of my upper lip before I realized that it wasn't Burt's Bees lip gloss...it was Bert's Bees Blemish Fighter that came in a small roll top bottle like a lot of lip glosses. I thought I tasted anise but it turned out to be fennel. That took a while de-smellify.

Now my daughter wants me to get a tattoo. At my age the only appropriate tattoo would be a Slinky. Then, no matter how much I sag, it will still look like a Slinky, it'll just be a stretched out Slinky. Even if it gets all distorted when I'm 80...it'll just look like most Slinky's look after a few years. Annie doesn't like the Slinky idea so we're at a stand still over the tattoo.

I can't believe that I've gone for over 50 years without feeling the need to get a tattoo and now I'm actually considering it. I'd get it somewhere that would only be seen if I wanted it to be seen...but definitely no tramp stamps. I don't like the idea of some dude staring at my lower back while his mind should be on me.

Anyway, tattoos are not emergencies...I can always worry about that later. Right now I'm worrying about the hideous pain in my side. I'm trying to avoid the hospital and wishing that there was a home morphine delivery service. My daughter thinks I should go to the ER but when SHE goes, she gets a prescription and a nice "How de do!" and then on her way she goes. She's a lot younger than I am and I have enough other medical crap going on to get myself admitted. If I'm not on the payroll, I don't like hospitals very much.

Well, I feel the need to go back and lie on the floor...it's the closest I can get to comfortable. Have a good evening!!!

Hi....my husband cheated on the internet....he says it does not mean anything...but my world has fallen apart....we are back together....but how do i ever trust again....on your blog you went through something similar....maybe you can give me some advice....

Thanx



I'll do my best but that might lead to more confusion. Anyway, I wish someone would have spoken to me about it but I didn't know a soul to ask for advice. First let me offer my deepest and most empathetic, "I hear ya girl!" and now I'll see what I can do with your situation.



First of all, whether he cheated online or in person, the fact is that your trust has been compromised and the pain you fell is valid. People might tell you things like, "Men will be men." or "They all play online, it doesn't mean anything." For some reason people tend to belittle your feelings and minimize what the dishonest person did. Do NOT allow yourself to feel badly for feeling badly. It is what it is, you're hurt, you've been deceived and the sanctity of your marriage vows have been cracked to the core. Trust your own feelings, if you feel hurt, you are. If you feel as though your husband betrayed you, he did. NEVER let anyone tell you differently or make you feel as though you did anything to contribute to your hurt feelings. That's tough for most women by itself, add the efforts of a bit of a manipulator and before you know it, the deception was somehow your fault. Do NOT fall into that trap.

Next, make a decision while you have control over the situation.. If a marriage is going to end, do your best to end it on your own terms or else you will end up blindsided and reacting to the decisions made by someone else. That is NEVER a good thing.

If you decide to stay with your husband, make a reasonable plan. Tell him what you expect, honesty is a good start. Have a calm and serious discussion about what you want out of a marriage. Tell him in no unclear terms exactly what betrayal means so far as YOUR marriage is concerned. For example, if you feel betrayed when he looks at Internet porn, tell him so. Tell him that he has the option of disagreeing and leaving, but if he wants to stay married to you, he must avoid doing things that make you feel betrayed. Tell him what you are willing to do for him and ask him if there is anything that you can do differently to make him happy. That doesn't mean that you did anything wrong in the first place, it just means that you're willing to work hard to keep your marriage together. Set a goal for when you will be able to trust him again. I tried telling my ex to refrain from lying for one year and I would do my best not to act like a jealous fool. The problem was, he could never go for a year without lying. But, if he had been, he might have been able to earn my trust again. We'll never know because he never did it, but if you're lucky, your husband will try to earn your trust and you will see his efforts and begin to trust him again.

If you see that he IS trying, try to let him know that you've noticed and that you appreciate it. If you find yourself unable to trust him no matter what he does, I suggest that you get counseling, either for the two of you or just for yourself.

Probably the most important advice that I can give any woman is to take care of yourself. Go back to school, take up a hobby that you've given up or just take on a new hobby. Do something that is just for you. Make yourself a better person for you, your family and for your husband. The effects of doing that have unlimited potential toward making your marriage better, your life healthier and your self esteem greater. There is absolutely NO downside to that last piece of advice and as I said, unlimited potential exists for you to be happier, healthier and much more successful in life.

Ordinarily, life is pretty black and white...

...I know what I should do about any situation within moments of thinking it through. I'm rarely hesitant about my opinion...if I am, I simply hesitate before I speak. But I've been slapped in the face with personal information about a celebrity that I saw recently. It's not the sort of info that you can just spit out as though you just saw Liza Minelli licking bricks...this is serious information and if I were Perez Hilton, a family would already be broken up over what I saw.

It's rather ironic because I happened upon a married man doing the walk of shame in THIS apartment building, with his hostess for the evening, at 5 AM in the morning. The ironic part is that we were stuck in the elevator together. If no one had said anything, I'd have forgotten the couple by now but as soon as the dude left I found out who he was. I didn't recognize him myself...I doubt that I would have recognized my brother at 5 AM.

At first I was impressed with meeting it ever since. I've decided that I can't say anything about it and that's driving me insane. It's for that reason that I'm even writing this...it was part of the compromise that I came to with me. I'd much rather tell you who it was than NOT tell you, but there were only 2 people to witness what I saw and one of those 2 people was my daughter so I can't say a damn thing without putting her in question so there ya go.

Of course, when I think about the wife, I want to do something to clue her in but then I think of all of the proof I had when my charming ex was cheating yet I didn't believe any of it. The evidence didn't get any better than I had yet as long as he denied it and no one caught him on tape, I couldn't accept the truth and if I DID mention the guy's name, he could easily lie his way out of anything that I said because, chances are, his wife doesn't want to believe the truth anymore than I did.

So, how's that for luck? I'm literally in Hollywood with a big fat juicy star secret and I can't tell a soul. But, I can get all Hedda Hopper and do this:

What well known comic and TV star was recently seen exiting the apartment of a pretty young lady while his wife was at home in another state?

I meant to write this...

...earlier this morning but I don't like to write sans THC and last night I lost my weed after smoking myself stupid. I finally found it behind a pumpkin so, here I am! If I try really hard, I might be able to write a complete post without being interrupted by my daughter who I love dearly. I really do. She's my favorite person on the planet and I would do anything for her. I enjoy her company and I could hang out with her for days and days before I started to get annoyed with the stupid things she says and does.

Well, it's been days and days. Actually, it's been weeks and that chick is about to drive me INSANE! From the way she hollers across the grocery store to get my attention to her ever-present disdain for my clothing du jour, that kid is making me wonder if her father was telling the truth when he said she was mine.

But...I shall persevere because I represent a group of people who have been persecuted for far too long...parents whose kids keep moving back home.

I was one of you as recently as last year when my first born became the last little chickadee to fly the coop. But, as the occupant of a 3 bedroom house, I have always lived in the fear of a child or two returning back to the nest. Well, for the rest of the parents out there who live in fear of a return to servitude, I have taken it upon myself to buck the trend and do what was previously unthinkable...I moved in with one of THEM. I'm not sure if it will help alleviate any situations that are occurring out there between annoying children and the parents who love them but, it will certainly give other parents a momentary escape to a land where parents sleep on couches and spend time in other people's bathrooms.

It's a land where children write checks to utility companies and worry about what the neighbors think. In this topsy-turvy world, children like a clean bathroom sink and vanity and they don't like socks on the living room floor. Previously normal offspring will walk into rooms carrying an empty bottle of ketchup and say things like, "Why did you leave this in the fridge?"

There are as many ways to infiltrate this land as there are parents so HOW you get in is up to you. But once you're actually IN your kids place, you need to slowly remind them that you are still the parent. If you raised them right, they will be putty in your hands but you have to approach them like a snake would...stealthily and without fear. Never attempt to claim any parental rights early in the Child as a Landlord relationship. It won't work and can only serve to increase hostilities which are inevitable. A wise parent-tenant will minimize these hostilities and use them in a way that will eventually evoke guilt. What cannot be avoided must be manipulated in a way that makes it an asset.

Some people prefer to say it like this, "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade." I've never liked that platitude because if you've ever tried to make lemonade, you know that the juice of the poor lemon is impossible to drink unless you have water, ice and a BUNCH of sugar. Sometimes you need to take the lemon and stick it in someone ELSE'S mouth to get it to work for you. That's what I'm trying to accomplish today.

I need to find a way to retrain my daughter who has always been single. She lives alone and although she's certainly a YOUNG lady...she's also surprisingly set in her ways. As nurse, I was taught to approach a problem logically. There needs to be a rationale for everything I do or don't do. I might forget a list of commands but if I understand what it is I'm trying to accomplish, it won't matter. Now...if the stuff my daughter wanted me to do had any basis in reason, I could easily grasp her point and abide by her wishes. But some of her rules exist for tradition alone and those are tough to remember.

I can really get that lemon in her mouth if I try but it's seem as though I can make her pucker with absolutely no effort whatsoever. I was pleased with that, it's a bonus that I hadn't even considered. For example...who would know that anyone could have 4 sponges at the kitchen sink...each with their own purpose? I'll never memorize such useless crap so if I'm in a good mood, I ask her before choosing a sponge. Even if I AM in a good mood, sometimes I use the wrong sponge just for general purposes. You would too if you had to put up with a Child Landlord.

I'd love to have a video tape of my kid barking orders at me...but even if I had a camcorder, I wouldn't have it on at the right time. My luck isn't anywhere near that good. But, yesterday, during one particularly prolific list of my wrong-doings, I started keeping notes. This is an honest to goodness list of things that I heard from my daughter's mouth yesterday...if I'm lying let lightning strike me where I'm sitting. Also, I double dare my daughter or anyone who knows her to accuse me of embellishing this list-o-comments:

1. "I hope you remembered to lock the door!"
2. "You left your purse in plain sight in MY car?! Are you nuts?!?!?! Where do you think you are? This is LOS ANGELES...HELLO! Someone could break MY car window to get to YOUR stupid purse, thanks for that."
3. "You didn't drink out of MY water bottle, did you?"
4. "Did you wash your hands before you did that? Well DID you?"
5. "So, you didn't like my idea of keeping a sign on the dishwasher saying "Clean" or "Dirty"?
6. "I don't like using someone else's toothpaste so I bought you your own and put an "M" on the lid. Mine has an "A".
7. "Are the clothes in the bathroom clean or dirty and what do you want to do about them?"
8. "You realize that we're having company for dinner and that YOU offered to do the cooking...well they'll be here within 2 hours and you're taking a break now? Why did we just spend 3 hours shopping if you were just going to come home and take a break?"
9. "Could you NOT put the drink near my Gucci purse?"
10. "Here, the pink towel is yours, don't use mine. Oh, and don't forget, the hand towel in the kitchen is ONLY for drying your hands on. Don't do ANYTHING else with it."

I could go on and on and I'm sure that sooner or later I will add to that list...or should I say that my DAUGHTER will add to it. But for now I'll simply enjoy the quiet that surrounds me. During down times like these, I like to think of my responses to my daughter's copious edict barking. I'm wise enough to withhold retort for a more appropriate time. Responding to numerous commands given by a Child Landlord is dangerous if done immediately after the child gives the command. You risk an argument which is fine if you enjoy that sort of thing but I don't. I wouldn't mind a verbal altercation but there are too many loose emotions out there in the world. They make life, and verbal altercations, a bit too unpredictable. I spend too much time positioning myself to allow for anything as out of my control as an emotional female.

The only thing worse than an emotional female is a testosterone induced male stricken by love, grief or acrimony. I try to keep things at a low level around here, or anywhere else for that matter. My daughter is a lovely young woman but...let's just say she's part Italian. During our one and only "heated discussion", she stood 10 feet away from me, naked as the day she was born...trying so hard to scream that her voice became distorted. A wild-eyed Irish-Italian redheaded woman...she looked me straight in the eye and screeched, "You're crazy!" Her head didn't spin but it looked like it wanted to.

Anyway, I need to go because I have a few things to do. While she's gone, I think I'll:

1. Use her toothbrush.
2. Erase all the messages in her cell phone and say it was an accident.
3. Scrub the entire kitchen counter with the sponge designated for pet bowls.
4. Eat a Nutter-Butter or two while drinking milk straight out of the container.
5. NOT brush the dog. Later I'll claim that I did.
6. Let them hem out of her black and white dress...just a bit and then iron it so that she NEVER knows.
7. Let the cat walk on the refrigerator.
8. Walk on the carpet with my shoes on.
9. Eat a bunch of her Moosetracks ice-cream.
10. Write a blogpost that will make her laugh but will also leave her wondering exactly what's on my mind.

She should be back soon so I better get started. See ya!

:)

I don't know which is more frustrating...

...the parents who used their kids for a publicity stunt or the attempts of the arresting agency to look good on TV and milk this sad story for all that it's worth.

I recently overheard...

...my daughter tell someone that I was "computer savvy". I never knew that before. I was certainly a little late coming to the computer world...I had heard about them but until my brother amazed me with his home PC, I never saw the practical applications for such a thing. I still had 8-tracks and had just given in and purchased a microwave oven. They had been around for over 20 years before I broke down and got myself one of those boxy little counter-top necessities.

I still don't have a cell phone and I'll be damned if I'm going to cave this time. God forbid I become one of those people standing in the middle of Wal-mart talking to myself before I'm 70. It's easy to go without a cell phone, but it isn't easy to kick a habit so I think I'll continue confounding everyone I meet and refuse politely every time one of my kids try to give me one. As long as my phone is tethered to a wall in my kitchen and sans answering machine, people can still wonder where I've gone or if I even knew that they called. People with cell phones make conscious decisions not to accept calls and I like to keep people guessing.

I have no MP3 thingies so my daughter's crappy car radio is an issue. The rotten radio stations alone should be reason enough to warrant a conversion on my part but I fear that with every golden oldie I download, the chances of losing that sucker will increase exponentially. So, I drive in silence and enjoy it...proof positive that I am old.

Along with cell phones and convenient music, I have chosen to avoid:

1. Counter-top appliances that require a "drip" pan
2. Removal of pubic hair
3. Sam's Club sized cleaning supplies
4. Televisions that hang on a wall, are bigger than my dresser or require more than one remote control
5. Lite beer, low fat ice cream or low carb ANYTHING
6. Tramp stamps
7. Instant messaging in any form
8. Hair spray with glitter
9. Products that say "Green" without a Jolly Giant and a Niblet on the label
10. Annoying gadgets that are supposed to make it easier to clean a kitchen floor

I have succumbed to microwave ovens, my computer and lip liner...that's it. Other than those 3 things, my world is pretty much the same as it was in 1976 and I like it that way. I only got the computer for the word processor...if I didn't enjoy writing, I still wouldn't have one. And, if it wasn't for one dreary January afternoon when I learned about blogs, I wouldn't know how to go online. Everything I know about computers, I figured out because I needed to do something with a blog. And now...years later, I am "computer savvy". Cool beans.

Every so often I find something that makes it easier to do things blog-related. The web-cam was one such discovery. I think I've had another blog/computer epiphany...this thing has been extremely convenient:

http://www.digeus.com/products/snapit/snapit_screen_capture_3_5.html

It captures whatever is on your screen and saves it in a file. Even I can find a file and open it. It's just another newfangled contraption that I use in my efforts to appear "computer savvy".

I think I'm more Internet savvy than anything else, I can find anything I need online from the episode of Gilligan's Island where they made cars that they never used again to how much anti-freeze it takes to off a cheating husband. I can find songs that I haven't heard in 40 years, men who will mow a lawn for no good reason whatsoever and pictures of the house in which I lived as a 6 year old. If I were a psycho, I could cyber-stalk the mean kid in 8th grade who offered me a nickle after I became a woman in Algebra class.

Yep...I like my computer. It may not grill a grease free burger, but it certainly has it's relevance in my life.

:)

The Penis's I've Known and Loved...

...and one word to describe them each:

Mark's penis: Convivial
Mike's penis: Tricky
John's penis: Troublesome
Mark's penis: Industrious
Steve's penis: Crafty
Rick's penis: Gnarled
Tim's penis: Elusive
Brian's penis: Memorable
Robert's penis: Monumental
Dave's penis: Distinctive
Mike's penis: Delightful
Neil's penis: Pesky
Scott's penis: Invasive
Marks' penis: Historic
Jeff's penis: Productive
Ed's penis: Leviathan

And never let it be said that I've forgotten a decent one night stand. I might forget a name, but I never forget a penis. So, to those nameless penis's out there, I salute you one and all. Here's remembering:

Omnipotent
Daring
Inquisitive
Mercenary
Fraudulent
Ambiguous
Hercules

Oh, and to Distinctive...you would have done better but for the fact that you are a smother fucker. You should really learn to keep your weight off of a little woman. Gasping for air is not always a good thing.

Hi Hi!!!

How are you this fine morning? After a week of rain, the sun has finally found it's way back to SoCal and if my daughter ever wakes up, I'm going to drag her butt to the beach again. I feel like having fun.

Last night I went out to shoot a few games of pool by myself. This isn't Gogia so there aren't any honky tonk type bars with a pool table and a juke box. Well, maybe there here somewhere, but I haven't seen any. So, I finally figured out that if I wanted to shoot pool, I would have to go to a huge billiards place on Hollywood Blvd.

I had a few problems with that...first of all, no juke box. I can't shoot pool without music. Also, they had the huge tables that I practice on before I play on the smaller bar tables. That makes me real good on a little table but I SUCK on a big one. (I suck on a big one...LMAO!) Besides that, there are too many people in a place that huge and I'm just not comfortable in that atmosphere. You rent the tables by the hour and it was only six bucks an hour so I just grabbed some balls and started to play with them.

Now, I broke my glasses so I COULD use that as an excuse for how badly I shot last night but I have a better one.

Before I finished my first game, I was approached by a producer's assistant from some show called The Hills. It seems as though they were there taping an episode of a show I've never heard of. She needed me to sign a release so that they could use my face if they got me on camera. I didn't really mind, after all, I've lost count of all the times I've had a camera on me.

There was one difference with these cameras. Usually, I know that I'm working on a movie or TV show so the cameras are expected. When you're trying to perform thoughtful and delicate work on a pool table...unexpected cameras do NOT help your game. Especially if that camera is taping a TV show that millions of people will see.

Oh, it was awful. I was missing balls that were hanging on the holes, just waiting for a breeze to blow them in. And unfortunately...that's the God's honest truth. I needn't exaggerate how badly I was playing last night...it just doesn't get any worse. I'm ashamed to say, I played like...a girl. I haven't played pool like a girl since the 70's.

It was bad enough when the cameras were 50 feet away by the table at which they were taping. But then, the unthinkable happened...the dude with the camera came over to the table next to me and took close ups of the 2 guys playing over there and...ME!

Now, ordinarily, I send men away from a pool table with their heads lowered in shame and owing me a few beers. I can make shots so razzle dazzle that I have to point out exactly what I'm trying to do otherwise NO ONE would believe that I did it on purpose. I can bank a ball and make it hit another ball which will then sink. I'm so good that I've been called a "dike bitch" more than once by bitter rednecks who are used to women who are good with balls but can't shoot pool worth a damn. When other bar patrons bet cash on me, they always win...if they let me in for a cut. When I was younger I would walk around pool tables twirling my stick like Tom Cruise in The Color of Money. A cockier young woman, you would not meet. I don't do that crap anymore because at my age I just can't pull it off like I did when I was in my 20's.

But...all of the skill in the world won't help someone with an unexpected camera man at the next table. That dude stood there for what seemed like a half hour. I couldn't believe he couldn't find someone better to film but then it occurred to me that perhaps he WANTED to shoot a middle aged woman missing the easiest shots possible on a pool table. Then I was OK with it, I obliged the entire time he was filming. Unfortunately, it didn't get any better after he left but that's OK, I think I'll try one of the gay bars in the neighborhood and just keep my pool shooting self off of Hollywood Blvd.

Two or three years ago...

...I flew to New York City to try out for the show, 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire'. It turned out to be a bust but I did have some fun with it in this little story:

http://diaryofmydivorce.blogspot.com/2007/06/hi-hi-im-back-and-im-exhausted-and.html

Well...guess what? I've just been shot down on the WEST COAST by ANOTHER game show that offers an opportunity to win one million bucks...Perfect 10. That's a new game show on NBC that is currently auditioning contestants. My evening with the casting folks over there was a total waste of time...at least with Meredith Viera's show, I left with a pen. I left with a pen this time too but it was just an old Bic that the chick didn't want back after I filled out my application. It didn't say NBC, Perfect 10 or Kiss My Ass. It'll just serve to remind me of my second failure in my attempts to win a million bucks rather than trying to get it the usual way...with lottery tickets.

I showed up at NBC Studios in Burbank about 15 minutes late because I had to park in Oregon and walk to the studio...that took a while. But, as I suspected, there were still people standing in line so it was cool. Then we went into the studio (there were about a hundred of us) and sat down to listen to one of the casting folks talk a bit about the show itself and then he showed us the "trick" that we were supposed to perform.

It was a no-brainer trick, we had to take 36 red plastic cups and stack them into a pyramid starting by lining up 8 in a row, then 7 went on top of them, then 6 and so on. I made my pyramid, that was easy enough. But after we made it, we had to bring it down in a tricky manner. I got halfway through that part when my pyramid, and my hopes for a million bucks, came crashing down. At that point I didn't realize that no one would get on the show without performing the pyramid trick perfectly. We were under the impression that we were practicing. Oh well...live and learn.

Of course, I did get to see Jay Leno leaving for the day, my third celebrity sighting. Maybe it was my second, one guy from ER was shopping at Ralph's but I've never seen that show so I didn't know who he was. My daughter told me he was on ER...and then as we stood in line to pay, my kid yanked a wedgie out of her ass. Only then did she turn around and notice that the dude was behind her. They began chatting then and continued talking into the parking lot. I'd speak to these people if I knew who they were...but a star I've never seen or heard of isn't really one that I'd want to speak to, after all, what would I say? I usually say something along the lines of, "I like your work." What would I say to someone I didn't know..."Who the hell are you?" I couldn't speak to Leno because I was in a hurry to get to the audition and I was already running late so I just waved and ran down the street.

I hope to get stuck in an elevator with someone good at some point. I'm sure it'll happen sooner or later. I've already been present for an armed robbery but I totally missed it. I was at the Rite-Aid on La Brea shopping with a gift card and I was in my usual shopping mode, even while I was in line. I was hoping that I had enough cash left on the card to be able to get a Mound's Bar.

I was able to get the candy bar and that's all I cared about. The manager came over to help me get my purchases outside. (I didn't need help...he insisted.) As we were standing under the awning waiting for my daughter to bring the car around, the guy told me that he had just been robbed. I asked if it was while I was in the store. He said, "You were in line 6 feet away!" If I hadn't been so overly concerned with that stupid Mound's Bar, I might have actually gotten to see a stick-up.

I asked the guy if the cops were coming and he said no, that there wasn't anything they could do and the guy "only" jacked him with a screwdriver.

I wish I had been paying attention to the felony occurring in the line next to me but like my wish to be stuck with a real big star, maybe I'll be stuck in an elevator with a REAL bad guy some time...one with a gun instead of hand tools.

OK, I'm off for today's escapades!

I hear that the White House...

...is actually blaming Fox News for the ills of the country not caused by Bush. Apparently Fox News and the republicans are far too much of a force to reckon with for both the President and his congressional majorities. Do you think THAT is the message the White House is trying to send?

I doubt it. I think that, like my ex-husband and his insane 2nd wife who have been harassing me for over twenty years, the President feels he can only hold the Administration together by identifying a common enemy. Obama and his staff are pretty much of the school of politics that very few media types mention anymore, the politics of personal destruction. He just takes it a bit further and applies the destructive tactics to private companies, institutions and networks that don't think a Nobel Peace Prize for a, so far, do nothing President is a no-brainer.

There was a time when the Nobel Prize was given for amazingly triumphant accomplishments. Alexander Flemming received the award...not for being a good guy and not for inspiring a love for microbiology in the young science community of his day. He received it by actually DOING something that had never been done before...he discovered penicillin. Can you imagine the lives saved by Flemming's work? Everyone who's life has ever been saved by an antibiotic can somehow trace their cure back to Flemming and his discoveries. Now THAT'S Nobel Prize material.

But I digress.

If you pay attention to any one person, an ex spouse, a bad cop or a President, sooner or later you begin to pick up on their personal behavior patterns. My ex used to be verbally abusive while I was crying...but as soon as I stopped crying and started getting angry...he would cave like the weak-spined bully that he was. Naturally, I just began to skip the crying part of the game and I went straight to being an acrimonious bitch. It saved a lot of time...and mascara.

I've been watching our President long enough to notice that whenever he meets resistance of any sort, whether it be in the form of poor poll numbers or thousands of protesting Americans, it seems as though he defaults to being nasty...just like I did. So, I can't say it's a bad thing, but I will say something that I wish the Obama Administration would learn to say, "It is what it is."

I find that common sense usually will stifle any opposition I meet. If not, I agree to disagree and walk away. This is an example of the common sense of which I speak:


Q. Bill O'Reilly is a racist.

A. First of all, that's a simple declaration, it needs to have facts to back it up. Saying that O'Reilly is racist doesn't make him a racist anymore than crossing my arms and blinking delivers me a tall and handsome man. Secondly, if someone IS a racist...what do you care? This is a country that makes room for racism. If racists formed a union and suffered discrimination, the ACLU might even help them in a lawsuit against PUSH. They did it for Nazi's because nazi-ism is allowed in this country. You don't have to like it, you don't even have to understand it. It just IS.

Your rights don't begin until mine stop and if I were of the mind to be a racist, I have every right in the world to be one as long as I don't tamper with YOUR rights. Therefore, the comment "Bill O'Reilly is a racist." is not only a pointless, time wasting tactic, it's also a sign of a person who can't think up a serious argument for anything worthwhile.

America not only makes room for racists, it makes room for American citizens to form a network which they may use for practicing First Amendment rights. You don't HAVE to like what they say. And of course, you have every right to start your own network.

If you wanted to fault someone, Obama COULD fault CNN for being so biased to the left that the right decided that they needed their own news network. But I sort of doubt that Obama, Clinton or Pelosi would say anything anti-CNN.

Now that the evil insurance companies have been demonized along with Fox News and the republican minority, I wonder who our next "common enemy" will be? The possibilities are endless. Here is a smattering of possible future Obama Demons:

1. The people who make Pringles
2. Richard Nixon
3. Starbucks
4. Nascar
5. First class airline passengers
6. Pharmacists
7. Limousine owners
8. Amtrak
9. Irish women who use less then a 30 SPF when tanning.
10. The wigs that Hasidic women wear after marriage.

If I wanted to, I could demonize anyone or anything on that list. I learned how in high school on the speech and debate team. I bet someone with more experience and education could be very successful demonizing anyone they felt the need to demonize. I absolutely CAN imagine our government creating an enemy out of anyone on that list. But, there are also people and organizations that would NEVER be demonized, no matter how bad they may get. Here are some of those entities:

1. NOW
2. Teachers
3. Nurses
4. Death row inmates as a whole
5. Local police departments
6. Florists
7. Obese people stuck in a bedroom
8. Nursing home residents
9. The turkey industry on Thanksgiving
10. Covens of witches

I think that list is pretty safe from hidden camera incidents and Presidential wrath.

Fox News is a perfect target, big enough that most people are aware of it and conservative enough to annoy liberals. Right now I feel the need to remind liberals that there is NO law criminalizing conservative thought.

If Obama wanted to set a precedent and stifle the free speech of the media, many liberals would applaud him. But, the precedent can easily fall back on liberals when a Republican majority pops up and stifles liberal thought. That's what you call fair and balanced in it's truest sense.

Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning the devil says~~"Oh Crap, She's up!"

Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Love the ones who don't just because you can. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it. Kiss slowly. Forgive quickly. God never said life would be easy. He just promised it would be worth it.

Girlfriend and Sister's Week
I am only as strong as the chocolate I eat, the hair spray I use and the friends I have. To the cool women who have touched my life...Here's to you!

National Girlfriends' Day
What would most of us do without our sisters, confidants and shopping, lunching, and traveling girls? Let's celebrate each other for each other's sake!

Be Happy!

It is good be a woman.

Hello again!

Apparently, with someone to talk to, a person doesn't blog as much as they should so I'm going to have to wake up earlier from now on so that I can chat with you guys and watch Fox and Friends. I've always been an early riser but even I can't seem to get up early enough to catch Fox's "morning" show. It's a middle of the night show on the west coast. But, getting up before my daughter wakes up is no problem at all. My mother's amazing propensity to sleep for most of the day seems to have jumped a generation and has landed squarely on my kid's sleepy self. Thank God she doesn't snore, I'd have to go back to Georgia.

Anyway, I have another secret and although I can keep someone else's secret forever, I suck at keeping my own. But, I have a superstition that dictates that I must keep things to myself lest I jinx the possibility of good stuff happening. Obviously this is a good secret, I wouldn't bother giving you notice of a bad secret.

I'll tell you this much...it has to do with a television show. This time I'm going to drag my daughter into my hijinks so I'm really looking forward to it. We have a meeting with the producers tomorrow but I doubt that we'll get an answers then. If we do, I'll tell you then. Otherwise, I'll tell you later.

Annie and I went to Hollywood Blvd. on Sunday and handed out cookies that we made ourselves. I had a bag that said, "Free Cookies" and Annie had one that said, "My mother is making me do this." It was fun when people took our cookies but many people didn't even answer me when I offered them a cookie. I shouted derogatory comments at those people and I smiled sweetly at the tourists who wanted to take our picture. That was certainly a new experience.

If I haven't raised my daughter to be an annoying young woman yet, I get to try some more. I'm pleased with that. I can't go on annoying people forever...I need to leave another annoying woman behind when I go.

Today I think I'll be cleaning up the apartment. It's quite small and somehow we seem to make a mess rather quickly. It seems as though I clean up, watch a movie and then it's time to clean up again. I took yesterday off, today the place is already a mess.

You know, cleaning up after your kid isn't so bad when you get older. I think it's because you get to feel more like a mother than you do by calling incessantly and worrying from afar. I don't remember the last time I had a creature with 2 legs to care for...I actually like it. Perhaps I should find a local Brady Bunch and become their Alice. I'd be a good Alice but I wouldn't put up with Sam the butcher for any length of time without a proposal.

In the meantime, my daughter will do. No matter how old she gets, I still think of her as a little girl. And she LOOKS like a little girl which is tough to do at 30. I was working in a nursing home once and I walked past a group of old ladies in wheelchairs who seemed to be having a coffee clatch at the end of the hall. One of them asked me if I would call her daughter for her. It seems that the daughter had been by to visit that day and had left over an hour before. She hadn't phoned her mother to tell her that she made it home safely so the mother was, understandably, worried about her. I told her that I understood and I asked her how old her daughter was. That sweet woman looked me straight in the eye and said, "Sixty-eight."

That's when it hit me. You don't EVER stop worrying about your kids...ever, ever, ever. If my son was a huge success in life and became President of the United States, the most powerful man on the planet, I would worry that some nut with a middle name would assassinate him. Ain't that a bitch?

You wait for the suckers to "grow up" and when they do, you've grown older and if there's one thing that I've learned about being old it's that OLD PEOPLE WORRY ABOUT EVERYTHING. Add to that the fact that mothers worry too and when you have an old mother, you need to MAKE HER take Xanax. I always wondered why I started needing tranquilizers when I was in my twenties and I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out...I became the mother of 3 kids back then too.

I even worry about the son who has sided with my ex husband in his unilateral war on me after 2 decades of divorce and refuses to speak to me. That's OK...I finally figured out the higher purpose that the "war" serves...if it weren't for their mutual contempt of me, they would have nothing to keep their marriage together.

OK...that kid has slept enough...I'm waking her ass up now.

See ya!

Good morning!

I'm waiting for my daughter to wake up and then I'm going to drag her butt to Venice Beach. I want to see what it takes to rent a booth at the beach to sell stuff from. Then, if it's a price I can handle, I'll think up something to sell.

Wouldn't that be a great job? I could just sit on the beach with Payton and sell stuff. I've thought up a few things that I could sell but I'd have to make it all before the weekend. Do you guys have any ideas?

I've been making pot holders with one of those little red looms but those aren't really beach selling stuff. Besides, it takes a long time to make one of those suckers and I wouldn't be able to make enough to get rich off of them by Saturday.

Of course I could go to The Price is Right and see if I can win "A NEW CAR!". The last time my daughter and I went, I noticed that the lady who won the big prize at the end was acting like an idiot while we were all in line before the show. Now that I know the secret, I could go and get chosen simply by acting like a fool. I think I can do that easily enough. I've been known to behave in strange ways in the past...it shouldn't be too tough to repeat that now.

My daughter's apartment comes with the gas and water paid for so all she has to pay is electricity. This morning when I woke up, there was a bit of a chill in here so I turned on the oven and opened the door. It didn't take long to get the chill out of the air so I turned it off right away but it occurred to me that if it were really, really cold, you could turn the oven on and heat the place with the gas. Then you wouldn't have to use your electricity to get warm. Of course, the chance of killing yourself with a gas leak or an explosion would increase...but at least you wouldn't have to pay for it.

Between the free heat and the beach sales position, it should be pretty easy to pay my way here in SoCal. If I can't, I don't think it would be as bad as it would be if I couldn't pay my way in Atlanta. Atlanta gets pretty chilly and it's not very pretty. California is a beautiful place to go broke.

Judging from all of the homeless people, I'd say that, if you must go broke, you should really come to LA and be broke. The homeless people here don't seem to have it so bad. Yesterday I saw a homeless person with a dog. If you can keep your dog and be homeless...it can't be all bad.

The other day I saw a homeless dude (what we used to call a bum) walking down the street in a tie. The tie was just as filthy and mismatched as the rest of his clothes...but he WAS wearing a tie. I figured he was going to a special homeless person meeting. Perhaps they were planning a trip to the beach. If I were going to be homeless, I'd do it at the beach.

I don't know if a career in homelessness can go any further than the Southern California homeless community. This is a mighty fine place to be without a home. You have the regular benefits that go along with being homeless such as:

1. No sweeping.
2. No Jehovah's Witnesses.
3. The city does your yard work.
4. People never peek in your medicine cabinet.
5. Immediate and stable employment as Official Bottle Picker Upper.
6. One less person to purchase "The Clapper".
7. You can really enjoy Halloween.
8. Unlimited travel potential.
9. Very little agoraphobia in the homeless population.
10. Challenging atmosphere.

Of course homeless people are also the ultimate "green" people. Other than the Styrofoam plates that they eat off of, they have very little impact on the environment. And you can't even blame the homeless for the Styrofoam...the soup kitchens buy that stuff. If you think about it, the homeless are actually GOOD for the environment. Not only do they use very little in the way of shampoo containers, baggies and anti-bacterial dishwashing liquid...they also pick up MORE than their own fair share of plastic bottles.

Yep..the homeless are HUGE in the area of recycling and they get very little recognition for that. You should thank a homeless person for their work in the area of environmental conservation.

With all of the homeless people here in SoCal, you would think that sooner or later I would see a new addition who still has SOME clean clothes on. I guess you aren't technically homeless if you don't look the part. A person in nice clothes is really just lost...not quite homeless. And you don't see too many people who are halfway homeless either. I've never seen one of them with just one too many stains on their shirt, mismatched socks and bed head. I guess when someone gets to that point, they must just go ahead and get all dirty at once. Maybe that's why the guy I saw yesterday was just crashed out on the corner at the curb...it was his first night and he wanted to get into character.

I'm sure that they'll have a lot of homeless at the beach in Venice...they always do. The last time I was here we went out there and I saw the luckiest homeless people on the planet. One guy was sleeping in the middle of a grove of 4 palm trees. I'm pretty sure that he was the King.

Gotta run...see ya later!

My day in Los Angeles...

...began very early this morning when I awoke to find both my daughter and my dog missing. It was about 5:30 and I had no clue where those two yahoos had gone. Within about 20 minutes, they came back bearing coffee. That was cool because both my daughter and I have both...consistently...forgotten to buy coffee at every single coffee buying opportunity that has presented itself for days. It's really getting quite ridiculous.

Anyway, Annie walked in with my dog and a large coffee for us to share and at that moment I only wanted 3 things out of life...I wanted my dog and my kid to come back...and I wanted a cup of coffee. So, I smiled pleasantly and sipped my coffee as Annie and I planned our day.

We had some errands to run and one of them found us near the La Brea Tar Pits. My daughter lives less than a quarter mile from La Brea Avenue and one of our errands took us south on La Brea until we reached the tar pits. Since we were there, I decided to pull over and check those suckers out.

It was pretty cool...there was one main "lake". It wasn't very big but it was much larger than the numerous small pits that peppered the land around the Page Museum which sits in the midst of Hancock Park. G. Allan Hancock inherited the land around the tar pits from his father who had drilled for oil on his property. The lake had obvious oil slicks and occasional methane "burps" from below the water. There was an active excavation going on in "Pit 91" which was pretty cool to watch. I saw fossils from saber toothed tigers amongst others.

I was chatting with one of the excavating dudes and he gave me instructions as to how to volunteer. It sounds really cool, you go to a few classes to learn about the pits and the various fossil types that they're searching for and then you get to go through the tar that's been dredged from Pit 91 looking for micro fossils. I could handle that. I dig tar.

After we left the tar pits, we went to Trader Joe's and picked up a few tasty items for our culinary enjoyment. On our way back, we stopped to get gas and ran into Christina Ricci at the gas station. My daughter is familiar enough to exchange a few words with her but I didn't even know who she was so I hung back and picked my lottery numbers.

So, my first "celebrity sighting" of this tour of California is a chick I don't even know. I have high hopes that it will get better soon but I also have a nagging fear that the next sighting could be of some annoying quasi-celebrity like Perez Hilton. Oh well, we'll see!

Before the day was over, we had been to the Target store on the corner of Santa Monica Blvd. and La Brea Avenue, the dog park on Poinsettia and the 99 Cent store on Wilshire Blvd., just a hop, skip and a jump past Rodeo Drive. I was a bit taken aback by the fact that a dollar store could exist so close to Cartier's, Christian Dior's and Armani's.

There were so many pretty things that I wanted to take pictures of for you only I didn't have a camera. But...very soon I'll get one and I'll have some really cool pics up here for you guys!

We also passed the surprisingly small diner where they filmed the diner scene in Pulp Fiction.

Well, it's 2:30 am and I'm quite sure that there's something I'm forgetting to tell you but I'm falling asleep at the computer so I think I'll just turn in for the night and hope that my mind is rested enough to remember when I wake up. Oh...and if you remember what it was that I had forgotten, leave a message in the comments.

:):):)

In the meantime, all I have the strength to worry about is this...what the heck is the hard button over the B on a lap top for? Any answers will that you may want to offer will be greatly appreciated.

Hi there!!!

I have just made my very first LEGAL marijuana purchase. For those of you outside of California, I wanted to describe the process for purchasing marijuana legally.

First, you go to a doctor. I did it the old fashioned way, I went to a doctor's office and told him about the multiple sclerosis. That's one of the many, many illnesses that can be treated with marijuana. He recommended the marijuana himself, I didn't even have to ask for it.

Some people get around a doctor's appointment by going to a 'Marijuana Party'. That's sort of like a Tupperware Party only instead of giving away crazy shaped straws and plastic sandwich holders, you get THC filled lollipops and marijuana filled truffles. The party that I heard about cost $175 per person and of that, $125 went to the doctor who showed up and the other $50 was spent by the host on those THC filled lollipops and marijuana filled truffles.

I didn't get to go to the party since I needed to go to a real doctor's appointment. But, when I went to pick up my stash from the Weed Store, the weed dispenser dude gave me a box of marijuana truffles and and an extra gram and a half of my medicine. I only had enough cash to get one gram but when he started lifting the buds out of the jar that I had chosen, he "accidentally" gave me 2 and a half grams. I guess it was sort of a "new customer" gift.

The weed store itself looks like any other small storefront business and if you didn't know it was there, you could easily walk right past the place without ever knowing you just passed a marijuana store. You don't go to a regular pharmacy to get your marijuana because the "prescription" isn't written out like this:

Marijuana
One joint every 8 hours as needed.
#30

It's actually a certificate from the doctor that says you are allowed into the weed dispensary. Once you get there, you can buy whatever you want in pretty good quantities, certainly more than I could smoke.

When you walk into the dispensary, there is a waiting room for those who do NOT have a certificate. There's a TV and a couch and a dude at a desk. After you show your certificate and register to that specific weed shop, you are shown the "back room". As you walk into the back room, the smell of ganja overtakes you before you get to the counter that contains 7 jars of various types of weed. The cookie jar sized receptacles were all over half filled with some seriously good smelling marijuana. At the other end of the counter was a box filled with THC filled delicacies like the truffles and lollipops. They also had marijuana butter in case you want to bake your own brownies.

In the middle of the counter was another jar full of very large pre-rolled joints for $15. Those doobies contained a mixture of all of the different types of weed they had, from the "body high" inducing Bang Bang Og to the "head high" inducing Sugar Kush. I didn't have enough to buy one of those suckers but it's certainly on my list of "Things To Buy When I Have A Bit Too Much Cash".

I can't speak for the entire state of California, but there are easily 10 weed stores within walking distance of my apartment that all seem to be doing a healthy business.Obviously, someone is making a LOT of money on the primo medicinal marijuana you can run out and buy as though it were a gallon of milk. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that the state would be completely broke if it weren't for all of the peaceful, easy feeling California folk.

This evening I saw my first television commercial for marijuana. It was actually for a doctor's office who asks you to call him at 1-800-MMJ-DOC1 and get your very own Golden Ticket to High Street!

Doesn't that make more sense than criminalizing behavior that is peacefully practiced in the privacy of one's own home? Not only does the State benefit from the increased taxes, they save money that would have been spent jailing those who would rather roll a joint than pop open a six pack. And, if a person can buy pot legally, they won't have to associate with drug dealers. That will limit exposure to "hard drugs" and the people who do them.

Well then, I think it's time to take a bit of my Bang Bang Og and check out my new body high.