Good morning!

The sun is trying to peek through the clouds today but I can see more clouds to the west so I know that SoCal is in for a little bit more torment before the sun decides to stay for a while. My daughter said that she's never seen so much rain in all the time she's been here. We've had lightening and thunder which she said she hasn't seen or heard since she left Chicago. Then, we had Tornado Warnings and I didn't even know that was an option for this part of the continent. Earthquakes, mudslides and oozing lava, maybe. But tornadoes?

Apparently they did have a waterspout touch down, flip some cars and rip off a few roofs. That's a site that might get you to move off of the hills of Malibu. I guess there's no really safe place to live so I'll just wait out the next natural disaster here, a few miles from the San Andreas Fault.

If it ever stops raining here, I want to go to visit that sucker, I'll let you know before I do. With my luck, it'll shift as I'm looking at it from 10 feet away and I'll fall into the great void, never to be seen or heard from again. But as I said, I'll let you know before I go.

I took a Payton to the vet the other day and it seems that his odd penile drainage, the one that I've been treating with antibiotics, is normal for a male dog with balls. I love the way people get annoyed at THC but they have no problem with testosterone and THAT has caused me more trouble than any other chemical compound on the planet. It's not bad enough a hormone driven piece of shit stole a good chunk of my life from me, now the dog is leaking all over the place. Most of the stupid shit that has happened to me can be traced back to a penis.

One would think that I would give up the testosterone induced among us but I think I literally HAVE another one. I didn't go looking for him, he just landed in my lap after I puked on 2 other guys Halloween night. I think I've pretty much done all that I can do to drive him away and curiously, he's still here. I may have to keep this one.

I haven't had a keeper since the 80's so this is an interesting situation to be in. One has to consider the feelings of another person before one acts and I generally HATE that. I certainly don't like having to explain myself and usually, if you asked me to, I would laugh in your face and walk away quickly. I've taken a LOT of pride in the fact that if I'm going to be a cheated upon divorcee, I'm going to do it like Sinatra...my way. My way has been rather fun...and no one is telling me to stop doing it like that but suddenly I find myself putting on the breaks anyway. I'm not sure if I like this at all.

Last weekend I wanted to be mad at Thor but as hard as I tried, I couldn't do it without feeling guilty. Ain't that a bitch? Guilt? Where the hell does something like THAT come from? I don't mind telling you that it has me rather perplexed.

Hello there folks...

...sorry to be so rare but this past weekend was a big one out here so I had to act as if I cared. My daughter is going to the Oscars with a friend of hers so that weekend will be another biggie. With any luck at all you should see her on the red carpet thingie. I suppose we'll have a camera at some point so one way or another, you'll see how she dresses up for that sucker. If anyone out there has a beautiful gown that you want seen on the red carpet, send me a picture of it, if it's not heroin chic I might talk her into wearing it.

Oh, I imagine that she and her date will be on their best behavior. I certainly hope so. If I see one more dude hock a lugie I'm going to forget my new rule about barfing down my own shirt and I'll spew grits all over the spitter dude. Why do men think that they can do disgusting stuff like that around women? I'm not sure where you're supposed to spit but I never saw my father, my brothers or my sons do it so I know it's not necessary to hock lugies at will.

I imagine that some women don't mind but some women pee outside too and I've never understood that. The outdoor pee ladies are probably the ones with the spitter dudes. I learned about the outdoor pee thing when I was living in the South. I'd be planning a day with some friends and they would have plans that didn't include plumbing. When I would ask where we could pee, they would just say, "Anywhere you want to!"

I don't pee outside...never have, never will. I try to stay close to major metropolitan areas so that isn't an issue but the one time I lived far away from a big city, I met a lot of outdoor pee chicks. I just couldn't do that. It's not bad enough that I've never squatted while urinating, I don't usually turn my bare ass on nature. It just can't be a good idea. Who can pee when copperheads are in the area?

Uh oh...my daughter just came home with groceries and I have to make Alfredo sauce for her Academy Award date. OK then, I'll see you soon, remember, no outdoor urination...it just sounds like a bad idea.

:)

Hmm...

...life is getting interesting again. My daughter is seriously considering moving back to Chi-Town which is exactly what I thought would happen if I came out to LA. It's all good if that's what she wants, she has a great support system back there so I don't mind, I just want her to be happy. Also, I want to be with her so I would follow her anywhere...that's all a given.

Unless, of course, I should meet someone like Thor and suddenly realize that I really, really, really enjoy his company. After being single for over 5 years, who'da thunk it? Except for one very special guy that I've missed for a couple of years, Thor is the first person whose presence I can tolerate. Ordinarily I prefer leaving, ignoring or taunting men who I see 3 times.

I don't know why, but for some reason, I can date a guy twice and not see the major asshole sitting right in front of me. But as sure as my ex will date any woman who says "Yes!", by the third date with any guy, I will see every single one of his faus pax in a most magnified manner. His grammar, his sense of humor (or lack thereof), even his posture all suddenly become quite saliently ponderous.

My third date elucidations often leave me wondering where my observational skills were on Date Numbers One and Two.

Some time within the past year I did one of my 3 date symposium's and by the third date I was appalled at my lack of judgement during dates one and two. I have very rarely misjudged a person so hideously in my life...the most destructive was, of course, my assessment of my most recent ex. Luckily, I'm wise enough, mature enough and assertive enough to avoid marrying the toads...heck I can even avoid a fourth date with most of those yahoos nowadays. But somehow, one of them got under my toad radar and briefly shattered my usually confident Internal Yahoo Spotting mechanism.

Earlier this year, I dated a guy a couple of times before inviting him over to my place for dinner. When we were out, we didn't really have occasion to chat, we were just having fun. But the evening he came to my place for dinner, I got to hear him speak. His conversation went something like this:

"I don't know what you see in me. You're way out of my league, I don't know why you'd want to spend time with someone like me..."

Well, he said stuff like that for about 20 minutes before it occurred to me that he was right, I WAS too good for him. I only say that because as bad as things can get in my life, I still know that I'm a valuable person and certainly worthy of the attention of a decent guy. So, I said, "You're right. I could be miserable all by myself, I don't need to invite miserable people over to help me be miserable. Sorry dude, but you need to leave now."

He was stunned. My guess is he was fishing for compliments and what could I say? "Oh baby, you're so cool the way you put yourself down...it turns me on something bizarre!"

Well, this biatch don't play that game so I just sent him packing. As he walked away from my front door, I could see him looking back over his shoulder. I'm 98.768% sure that he was thinking, "What the hell just happened? The self pity thing works on so many women!"

Obviously he chose the wrong woman that time.

It's with gusto and ease that I can usually toss a dude out on his ear, with or without a reason. But...maybe twice a decade, I meet a guy who makes me stop and think. I hate that.

Now I have to think about Thor some more.

:)

It's the end of the world...

A while ago...

...when I created a playlist, I added the song Downtown by Petula Clark. I don't know why, but for some reason it turned out to be the German version of the tune. I found it rather amusing and wished that I could sing along but I could never find the German lyrics. I whined about that occasionally and recently I whined to someone who was as curious as I and he actually found the lyrics for me.

You would think that would be all I needed to learn to sing along with Petula in German but you'd be wrong. You see, much practice is required and I can't seem to find enough "alone" time to do so. Every time I burst out into "Bist du allein, von allen Freunden verlassen, Dann geh' in die Stadt,' someone begs me not to sing that song again.

I've got most of the song down pretty well but the last verse is unusually difficult, even for a German person. It doesn't help that someone shuts me up before I ever get to it.

So, I guess it'll take some time but eventually I should be able to sing the entire song in German. I don't know when that will come in handy, but something tells me it will and I want to be ready when it does.

I have other hidden talents that amaze and surprise, for example, I can scratch every inch of my own back myself due to a broken arm I suffered 20 years ago, I can move my eyes independently of each other and I can put my legs behind my neck. I don't try the last two very often out of fear of some hideous injury that I would never be able to explain to anyone who didn't laugh at me.

But, I do want to be able to perfect a German rendition of Downtown and now that it's after noon, my daughter can't bitch if I wake her up.

On the way to Hollywood Billiards...


...last night, I met a nice young college student who happened to be black. We chatted about his studies after he told me what a great day he had at school that day. He was handsome, well groomed, and if it weren't for the pants around his thighs, he would look like the kind of kid you would like to see your daughter dating.

He was charming, witty, considerate beyond his 19 years and possessive of all the qualities necessary to be a productive member of society. I actually remember thinking just that as we were chatting about Earth Sciences, his favorite class, and when I told him about volunteering at the excavation at the La Brea Tar pits, he was extremely interested asked a ton of questions about who I knew and if he could start soon. We had a great time.

Then, we parted ways and I went off to shoot pool with the stars. I shot exactly like a woman without her glasses, on large tables that she wasn't used to, surrounded by excellent players shooting nine ball. Unfortunately...I sucked. I actually committed blunder after floundering blunder. I shot so badly that I was absolutely mortified. The balls that DID go in consisted of 5 really nice shots, 165 way off shots and 792 closer than an ass hair shots.

I was determined to play until I got into my game and began attracting attention by my amazing skill. That just made my humiliation last longer. If it hadn't been for the Smirnoff Ice's that I drank, I wouldn't have been able to live with it as long as I did.

Anyway, eventually I gave up and left with my date. Coincidentally, we happened to run into the same guy from earlier on the way home. We're in the nation's second largest city with millions and millions of people and I ran into my new friend a few hours after I met him. We all went over to his place to talk which was odd for me...especially when I met his mother who is still in her thirties. My kids never brought home AARP members and I'm sure our presence took that lady aback as well. Anyway, I guess she realized that we were no threat to her son so she went to bed and we all sat around talking.

At one point in a VERY ENJOYABLE conversation, my new friend tosses out this little gem..."I can feel ya'll so I'm just gonna be straight up and tell you that I actually robbed a guy."

He said it like he was telling us what he had for breakfast. I suppose I should have been smart enough to be scared but I wasn't...the Smirnoff Ice...remember?

I was like Thelma in Thelma and Louise anxiously asking all sorts of questions and getting him to show me how he robbed the guy. It was really pretty cool. (Smirnoff Ice.) As he kept on talking, he eventually shared more and more information until it became obvious that he was not only a very prolific robber, but most likely not a college student either.

He told us every detail of how and why he chooses any one particular victim, how he approaches the victim, grabs his target and then how he gets away quickly and without being caught. For a good while there, I was enjoying it all and he knew it. Then, my giddy, Smirnoff-induced mood turned quickly into a defensive but still relatively cool mood because of something that he said..."I even thought about robbing you two."

I thanked him for not doing so and then I mentioned the 22 in my back pocket and said something stupid like, "I don't care about aim because I'm not shooting anyone 20 feet away from me...I'm plugging the fool who tries to have a close encounter with me."

Then, he reached around me affectionately and pulled his hand from one side of my hips to the other. Guessing that he had just checked to see if I did, in fact, have a 22 in my back pocket, I told him, "You know, I'm not wearing any granny jeans. These are low riders, the pockets were 3 inches below were you just checked."

He looked at me and said to my date, "This is one smart lady you got here!"

Shortly after that we went our own way and as I looked at the people around me, I wondered which one of them would be the one who actually DID rob me. Then I looked at my 250 pound 6'5" beau...Thor...and I decided that we wouldn't be likely targets. For last night anyway, it worked out just fine.

OK...

...you guys have got to help me. When I was married, my pubic hair wasn't ever much of an issue. Of course, there was the occasional hair that Rick hacked up after browsing around downtown. But other than that, I've never had a problem with it. The only shaving I did was the little bikini shave that we HAVE to do so that we don't hear, "Look! She has a furry bikini!"

A few years ago I mentioned pubic hair on this blog and I heard from people who were actually aghast that I had a full bush. They suggested that I shave it right away but I wasn't having much sex then so I didn't worry too much about it and I hate the road rash you get after shaving that tender spot, hence, I still have my pubic hair.

I've encountered a few men who trim their own hair, I guess it's for my sake. So, I think I can safely say that pubic hair is out and bald pussy's are in. There's one problem with that...I hate shaving my legs, why would I want to add to my shaving list at my age?

Had I never divorced, this problem would have never come up. But, divorced I am and hairy I remain.

This evening, out of nowhere, my own daughter told me that I should shave down there. She said, "Men don't like it!" Well, I've never heard that from a man. Not once has a dude gotten up, crammed his hard-on into his pants, zipped up and walked out of the room disgusted by my pubes.

I also worry that if I go to bed with a guy for the first time and I'm all shaved, he might think I'm promiscuous. Whether or not I am isn't the point, I don't want people to think it.

So, PLEASE...tell me what to do. I'll be taking a shower later and I need to know where to stop when I take out my razor.

Thanks!

My father used to say...

...that there was a loose connection in the filter between my brain and my mouth. He may be right...and then again...it could just be me, after all, I'm fine with it. Well, most of the time I am.

Every so often my mouth receives a foot larger than my own because when I say something that embarrasses ME...it takes a big foot to shut me up. Once I offered to help an OBVIOUSLY pregnant woman with her purchases. As I told her, "You shouldn't be carrying so much in your condition. You look like you're ready to pop right now!"

Three little words and I turned tail and went into the nearest stockroom..."I'm not pregnant."

I assure you, you would have thought she was ready to pop too. She didn't just have a huge beer belly, that was a belly you only see on women headed to the delivery room. I still don't know what the heck that was all about.

Once while volunteering at a children's hospital, I asked a nurse how a mother could let a child get so ill before bringing her in to the hospital. I don't remember what made me think she was a nurse, but she wasn't. She was the baby's mother. I still want to apologize to that woman but after 25 years, I doubt I could track her down.

Well, the other night I did it again. I went to the rainbow Room in LA and as we were being seated, I told the hostess, "I see Ron Jeremy here all the time and he always hits on me, don't put me near him again!" Then, I laughed to show the lighthearted nature of my little wisecrack. Ordinarily, other people would be snickering along with me but since they all knew something that I didn't know...they remained reticent.

They could see that Ron Jeremy was behind me. He certainly wasn't laughing.

Whatever...I've annoyed bigger people with less annoying behavior.

You know...

...I think that women would be wise to stop asking pointless questions and, even more importantly, men would do well to stop answering them. Last night I asked Thor one of those silly questions and I got an answer that I never expected, wasn't prepared for, nor did I take well.

For some strange reason that I cannot explain, I asked Thor what it was that attracted him to me. I wanted to know why he went out of his way to introduce himself to me and ask me out. I was especially curious considering the fact that the night we met, I puked on two different men. I didn't puke on Thor, but I have a feeling that he still would have asked me out had I done so. I just had to know, what was it about me that drew him to me out of all the other women he could have chosen from? How could that question POSSIBLY evoke a negative response?

He answered, "I thought you were pretty." I continued my cross examination, "The place was crawling with beautiful women...why did you pick me?"

I should have quit after the "I thought you were pretty." comment.

But I didn't. His retort was not a happy-making one. As calmly as he had just ordered a Grand Slam, he said, "Yeah, but they were all young. You were the only one who looked old enough for me."

Thor is 55. He may be right, I may be the right age for him and naturally, because of our ages we have a lot in common. But he didn't need to point out that I was the one he chose because I was the oldest chick in the establishment. I'm not sure who was dumber, me for asking such an open ended question or him for giving me such an honest answer. I may be a laid back, mellow and dulcet chick, but a chick nonetheless.

I didn't let my perturbed feelings show...as an Irish woman, I don't show my feelings, I tuck them away until I can use them in some vengeful manner. So, Thor didn't know how I felt. Someday he might, if he stays around long enough to REALLY annoy me.

I'm rather disappointed in myself for asking such a ridiculous question but as annoying as my behavior was...I find Thor's social faux pas much more problematic...for two reasons.

First, he was just plain stupid enough to answer that question without thinking of some way to dance around the truth without REALLY being dishonest. Secondly, he thinks I'm old. I can't get past that. I can think I'm old all day long, and perhaps I am. But I don't want anyone to TELL me that I'm old! My granddaughter did it once and I let that go because I adore that little girl. But some huge Norwegian dude with gray hair would do well not to accuse any woman of being close to his age...true though it may be.

Have we all learned something today?

My New Year's Resolutions...

...for this year are as follows:

1. I will eat more Pez.
2. I will gain 10 pounds, no more, no less.
3. I will celebrate my birthday
4. I will watch more TV.
5. I will have more sex.
6. I will not get a tattoo.
7. I will watch 'Shaun of the Dead' more than I did last year.
8. I will not let any man get two orgasms up on me.
9. Just to be a bitch, I will be nice to my oppugners.
10. I will extend my grammar correcting behavior to all of those within earshot.

I have more but I have to help my beautiful daughter clean house. BBS!