December 23, 2008

The Dancer and the Writer

It’s six o’clock in the morning. Fuh uh uh uh uck me.
Maybe if she would let somebody fuck her, she would be up at six o’clock in the morning. I know it’s not right to hate her but just look at her over there, not even leaning on a chair for balance. She’s got her right leg straight up in the air with her knee next to her ear. Thank god she’s got tights on this morning; neither of us has gotten over the awkwardness of the pink panties lip slip morning.

Quit smiling at me you freaking sadist and just give your half of the rent.

OH there she goes, a little lady like sip of your freshly juiced whatever the fuck. You know if you juiced that shit at night, I would not have to get up at six o’clock in the god forsaken morning to the sound of vegetables, fruit and tofu being put to a slow death.

That’s it; there you go; now the left leg, all the way up to the left ear. Do you think if she got both legs around her ears at once she couldn’t hear me tell her to seriously fuck off?

Oh OK, she finished. What the hell is she looking at me for; I am supposed to perform some sort of ritualistic warm up for my day. If she can even spell ballerina she’s probably too weak from hunger to do it in one sitting. That’s alright, I’ll give her a show; my morning stretches.


Ten knuckles one right after the other; timed like the radio city rocketts doing a chorus line kick one raised leg then the next, preformed by my agile fingers. Now a quick pirouette and plie’ into my ergonomically correct chair, perfectly positioned in front of my monitor. Look at the smirk; I think she might even be a little jealous of me.

“I’m gonna to shower if you don’t need it, k?
“K, sure go ahead.”

I don’t need it right now; I’m on a deadline, I’m stuck and, she knows it. The shower can wait! I’d be lucky to finish to this thing by the deadline if I start now and don’t move from my seat for the remaining three days. Fuh uh uh uh uck me.

I wonder if I’m getting a little funky. Let me get my arm straight up in the air by my ear so I can get a little whiff. Not bad, I’ll last a little longer, especially if I have lunch delivered. And the other arm; still OK. Oh my gawd, I wonder if that what’s she doing every morning with leg business. She’s checking to see if she can skip the shower.

December 15, 2008

It's Drunky Cookie Baking Time

We made cookies this weekend using cutters I bought in Amish country last year. We found a shop that had every cookie cutter you could think of, except of course of the ones you thought of first, it was Amish country not fetish country.

So I bought Ohio and Florida shaped cutters along with stockings, santas, and trees. The ornament shapes were an after thought, so we used a wine glass to cut those after we drank all the wine and moved on to bourbon. Wayne waved a carton of egg nog over the bourgon on the rocks just to make it a little more Christmasy.

I thought they looked pretty good, but our ole pal from San Fran said they look like vibrators and piles of shit.
God only knows what is coming out of, or going up that guys ass, but it ain't gonna be my cookies either way.

December 13, 2008

Sixty-six years and counting

It goes without saying that Wendy and I are film buffs. Yet strangely enough, we had been a couple for nearly three years before we watched Casablanca together. There is more to the story, but we'll get to that in a moment.

The day before Thanksgiving; November 26th, was the 66th anniversary of the premiere of Casablanca at the Hollywood Theater in New York City. The opening is rumored to have been timed to coincide with the Allied invasion of North Africa and the capture of Casablanca. General release didn't happen until January 23rd of 1943.

The November release was important because it kept Casablanca out of the Oscar voting for 1942. This was probably wise timing, because in 1942 Mrs. Minivar took; Best Actress - Greer Garson, Best Supporting Actress - Teresa Wright, Cinematography - Joseph Ruttenberg, Directing - William Wyler, Screenplay - Arthur Wimperis, George Froeschel, James Hilton and Claudine West, along with the Best Picture Oscar. Tough competition.

Casablanca was well received and had substantial box office success, but critics were less impressed. Variety considered it "anti-Axis propaganda", while the New Yorker called it "tolerable". It was the seventh best selling film of 1943 and has grown in popularity over the years, mainly due to continued theater screenings and fairly consistent rebroadcast on television. Although the WGA West in 2006 voted Casablanca as the best all time screenplay in it's list of the 101 Greatest Screenplays, in recent history, writer Chuck Ross claims to have submitted the screenplay with an altered title to 217 agencies with only three rating it as commercially viable. As the saying goes, no one knows anything!

Wendy and I started dating back in 2002 and we often spent the evenings with a DVD and my cooking. We had discussed film quite a bit and Quentin Tarantino came up in conversation on multiple occasions. I suggested Reservoir Dogs and Wendy pretended she wanted to see it. As I remember, we killed two bottles of wine, fell asleep on my room-mates sofa and never saw the end of the film. I like to think that Wendy just wanted to sleep with me.

Anyway, when our discussions turned to our all-time favorites list, I came up with Casablanca. However, I had seen bits and pieces of the film over the years, but had never sat through a complete screening. When I implied that I would get that one for us as our next date movie, Wendy emphatically stopped me, "No! I've never seen Casablanca, but I'm saving that one for the man I marry"! So, knowing that I was never going to get married again, that one was off the table for us.

Flash forward to December 24, 2005: My brother's house in Florida for Christmas Eve. My parents are there, my sister and her husband, their three daughters, my brother and his wife along with her parents, who were up from Puerto Rico. Assorted sisters, brother's get the idea, a houseful.

When it came time for Wendy to open a gift from me, I handed her a small wrapped box, DVD size. As she began to strip the paper off the disc, she welled up and then began really crying. I gave her the collectors boxed edition of Casablanca, dropped to my knees and brought out the ring. By this time I think all of the women and most of the men were either confused, trying to figure out why a DVD would cause such a reaction or they were crying too. My sister and mother were in on the surprise, so they had a tearful head start.

She said yes, we married November 4, the following year and Casablanca now and forever has a special place in our memories and our hearts. I don't know if we'll get 66 years; but as Christmas draws near, I just want Wendy to know that she'll always be Ingrid Bergman to me and I hope to be her forever Bogey.

Here's looking at you kid!

December 11, 2008

Even In Death They Torture Me.

The Frogs! Again! This time he was dead, but grosser than he had ever been alive. My lemon tree needed a drink badly. I hooked the sprinkler to the hose, aimed it at the tree and turned the water on full blast.


I inspected the end of the sprinkler where the water is supposed to come out. No water just some gelatinous veiny goo and trickles of blood. I am going to barf thinking about it.

Wayne had to dissemble the sprinkler and pull bits of frog out with a needle nose pliers. I guess the frog had crawled in the end of the hose as some point looking for water. It has been very dry lately hence the watering of the lemon tree.This happened over a week ago, and I am not over it yet.

I wonder what was the last thing to go through that frogs mind?

December 7, 2008

Jonesing For A D.Q.

The Rouge Wave is hosting a contest. Entries should be a Chritmas themed one page scene using the words, Egg Nog, Maui and Blizzard. He is my entry. (It looks like 2 pages here but in a PDF it is one.)

December 2, 2008

It's Begining To Look Alot Like Christmas

Ok. This inside is mostly done. Now for the outside.

And no looking up Santa's robe while you're in there.

November 27, 2008

Gobble Alot

Here's our bird from a few years ago. This year we are hoping to finish up the left overs so we can do a new one next year.
Happy Thanksgiving .

November 24, 2008

James Bland

Quantum of Solace Possible alternative titles:

Quantum of Sucks…. no that’s childish, move on.

Quality of Solace Not Good…. maybe, no, keep going.

Quantum of Sultry….would be nice if it were true, it wasn’t even a little bit sexy.

Quantum of Suspense…let’s see; car chase, check, boat chase, check, plane chase, check, exotic girls, check, total lack of a feasible story, check. No, pretty much no suspense here, just formula.

Quantum of Time I Would Like To Have Back… yep that’s it, that should be the title.

But you can’t get your time back, so wait for the DVD on this one so you can at least watch it in your underwear while you're painting your toes or drinking wine or talking on the phone or watching another movie at the same time….you get the idea.

Bingo Night in Hell

Yesterday we went to church. For me it was part of my sporadic plans to avoid going to hell; but I’m pretty sure I made my situation worse. We ducked out early because the service went on too long to suit me. Then went to breakfast where I ate food that is so not on my diet and proceeded to make fun of the pastor for a half an hour. It was some pretty funny stuff; I even wrote some of it down.

Wow, I am a bitch.

That’s when it hit me. While mocking this church on paper I realized that the only thing wrong with them is that they didn’t get services over fast enough to suit me. There was some other stuff, but I am not going to dis people who welcomed two strangers without question. We didn’t feel that this church was for us, so we won’t go back, no big deal. And I really wish I would have toughed it out till the service was over, geez would it have killed me. NO!

Yes, I know going to church won’t guarantee you a pass on eternal bingo night at St. Lucifer’s, but picking a church just because they get you out in time to beat the rush at Denny’s isn’t going to help either.

November 17, 2008

Touching Home

Thus continued a wonderful evening of film and conversation that Wendy and I had Saturday evening at the Melbourne Independent Filmmakers Festival.

The festival, celebrating ten years of showcasing independent film, is unknown to many Central Floridians. That is unfortunate, because the production value of the festival events is top notch and the films presented are representative of the best local and international independent film makers.

The night air was cool and breezy by Central Florida standards, the food and drink were fantastic and we had just finished viewing a film by Logan and Noah Miller that is a sure bet to establish the careers of these twin brothers from Northern California.

The highlight of the festival for Wendy and me was the MIFF VIP Screening and Reception that began with a red carpet arrival for many of the film makers, including the Miller brothers. The evening continued with the Florida premier of Touching Home, the first feature film by Logan and Noah Miller. The brothers wrote, directed, produced and starred in the film which also features four time Academy Award nominee Ed Harris. This was only the third screening of the film, following the San Francisco Film Festival and a showing in Calgary, Alberta.

The film is a heartfelt story of two brothers seeking success as professional baseball players while attempting to reconcile the pain and love they have for their homeless, alcoholic father. The photography was lovely and captured the lighting of Northern California perfectly. Although they have no formal film or acting training, Logan and Noah have accomplished what few in Hollywood are capable of doing. They reached an audience emotionally by way of a simply told story with no special effects, no CGI and a budget smaller than the cost of some homes in Central Florida.

Following the film, we joined the viewing audience outside in a beautiful courtyard setting for the VIP Reception. Logan and Noah Miller eventually found their way to the food tables and that’s when Wendy saw her golden opportunity and the scene played out pretty much as described in the opening of this post.

We talked with both brothers and shared some common screenwriting missteps, conversed briefly about Northern California locale and in general found their enthusiasm for film infective. They were polite and asked for our business cards, (fortunately Wendy had the foresight to bring some!) and they graciously encouraged us to “just do it”! With our screenplay well on its way to completion, this was a great shot in the arm to keep our motivation going.

Wendy and I both agree that this is the best film we’ve seen in 2008. Wherever you are, find a way to see Touching Home. There will be huge buzz on this project and I’m convinced that the two young men we met Saturday night are going to have a long, illustrious career in the movie business.

November 16, 2008

A Saturday Afternoon Threesome

Yesterday we went down to the Melbourne Independent Filmmakers Festival, more on that later.

While there we stopped by Meg O’Malley’s where we had a threesome; and I gotta tell you, it was the best I ever had. But with the balls and the big irish sausage it took 3 beers to get the taste out of my mouth so I’d be ready for the next course.

(Here you may add your own jokes about ordering up a Threesome, but mind you, Wayne tried this yesterday and I wasn’t amused until he said something that was so funny I had to give in. It was really nasty or I’d tell you what it was, suffice to say he make me snort beer.)

Wayne had the ribs and chips. I really liked the chips. I had the Irish stew. Really good; I just wish it had been a wee bit warmer. The place was packed on this Saturday afternoon but we were seated in about 15 minutes and even got to catch a little of the Buckeye’s game on one of the many TVs around the bar.

Our server Tiffany was great, a nice girl who didn’t let us go to long with out checking on us but never asked how the food was just when I had taken a bite. In all we had a great time at so check it out, it’s in the historic district of downtown Melbourne.

November 12, 2008

Wayne Hates Cold Bread

“I like it fresh and warm,” he says, so I can’t put bread in the refrigerator. Since there are only two of us and we now live in Florida, I usually end up throwing away a lot of bread.

Long before I actually went to college, I lived in a basement apartment on campus. My bed was on the floor and in the winter I slept in a hat, socks and the year it snowed till April I slept in my coat. What’s this got to do with bread? Lot’s of times I went without bread! You may argue that had I not gone to bars I might have had more bread, but I was fairly cute and could often get a free drink for just a smile, (which was all I was willing to give up mind you) but somehow 21 and trolling for drinks with your gal pals seemed ok, while hanging out in the bread aisle rarely worked.

Aw they were wonder days, but I was sans wonder bread. And I admit it; there was once or twice when I took some toilet paper from gas station bathrooms. Wayne wanted to know why I didn’t go for places with better quality TP, like a nice hotel or restaurant. Because, they know the look of stealers, good luck getting past the front desk if you’re carrying a big purse.

Side thought: I wonder why I was ok with lifting TP from the gas stations, extra ketchup and sugar packets from burger joints but it never, never occurred to me to steal bread. I mean I’m glad it didn’t and that I never really starved, but how did my subconscious come up with a rationalization for TP and ketchup?

So that, together with my mother’s voice telling me throughout the seventies of all the starving children, makes me really hate waste. And I have changed my ways. Kind of like Earl, I try to consider the full consequences of my actions these days.

I wonder… if you steal TP will Karma give you hemorrhoids?

November 11, 2008

Presents To Us From Us

We just got Final Draft 7,
I wish I would have had it my whole life.
I love you Final Draft.

November 6, 2008

The Vanity of Chuck Lorre

If you watch TV you probably have at least heard of Chuck Lorre, because he has produced shows such as The Big Bank Theory, (one of my current favorites), Two and a Half Men, Dharma and Greg, Cybill, and Grace Under Fire.

When the credits roll at the end you will see one of his vanity cards. A quick flash of a white card with some of his thoughts. Too quick to read, but luckily he has a website. And from time to time one of his cards get censored. While perusing the cards after Monday's episode of Big Bang, Wayne found this one, and I loved it.

So check out some of his cards, I think you'll find him quite the cunning linguist.

November 5, 2008

28 To Go

Yesterday was our anniversary. We have a lot going on right now so we kept it simple. I made a cake and Wayne brought me a rose. We drank Chandon from glasses we got on a trip to Chandon during our honeymoon.

When we first got married, which was long before we got legally married, Wayne promised to give me 30 years and then we would renegotiate.

Wayne, I'll give you my whole life and then some on any terms you choose. Love, Wendy

November 3, 2008

F Going to Prison

One of my favorite bloggers, The Death Chic, as offered us a way to stay out of prison. Click on the picture above to check out her theory of how making a list can keep you from killing someone, even if they got it coming.

As for my F-list:

Frogs that hop on me.
Grasshoppers that hop on me.
more to come

October 28, 2008

The Frogs, Always the Frogs

There is a line between sanity and a 3 day stay in a room with stainless steel mirrors and nurses who speak in hushed tones…and the frogs are pushing me. As you may know, I am not so in love with bugs, frogs, snakes, things of that nature; and ever since T.S. Fay we have been inundated with ma-fackels that can hop.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

I have gotten used to the lizards, I recovered from the Jiminy Cricket incident, but living in the Groundhog Day version of the rain scene from Magnolia is nudging me toward the edge. This week alone three frogs and been captured, by Wayne of course while I hid in the bathroom, and released into my neighbor’s yard.

Two weeks ago a frog jumped on our guest's breasts as she tried to enter our home. The worst part was when she tried to bat it away it jumped on her mouth. After that I had to give her the good liquor from the back of the cabinet.

Last week while walking the dog, a frog hitched a ride on my lounge wear. The only thing that saved me from a rubber room is that I did not notice him until he jumped off and went behind our four thousand pound entertainment stand, where he may be for eternity because if we ever sell the house the stand stays.

I like nature, really I do, as long as it is not slimy and in my hair or on my freakin night gown. Seriously frogs you got no beef with me so back off.

October 17, 2008

The Chicken Heart That Ate Chicago

Follows is our last class assignment; my adaptation of Jose' Lipshitz's "The Chicken Heart That Ate Chicago".

EXT- A CORN FIELD A year earlier SUMMER– Day

INTO VIEW we see MR CHICKEN. He is RUNNING through the rows of corn as he is being chased by as yet unseen THREE MEN CHASERS.

Mr Chicken: (Looking back over his shoulder as he runs) Oh Cluck!

O.S. (MAN ONE) ; Get him!!!!


We see MRS CHICKEN, looking down the road and checking her watch, which is hung upside down on a chain from her neck so that when she looks down she can read it.

Mrs chicken : (To herself) Where could he be?

CRANE SHOT Mr. Chicken is running through the rows of corn when INTO VIEW comes THREE MEN CHASING HIM. The men break into three directions to corner Mr. Chicken.

man one: Flank him and head him toward the lake

Mr Chicken: (As he runs) Cluck you, you bastards

EXT- Where the Corn Field meets the LAKE- CONTINUOUS
MR Chicken emerges from the corn field and nearly runs into the lake.
CLOSE ON his face as we see he is trying to figure out what to do.

OS (man one): Give it up chicken, your goose is cooked.

Mr. Chicken turns around to look back toward where he just emerged from. REVERSE ANGLE we see man one coming out of the corn field. POV Mr. Chicken as he turns his head to the left and sees man two and to the right and sees man three.

Ext- Medical Research Facility FALL -Day

INTO FRAME WALKS the lab coat man we PAN to follow man till her enters the building.

INT- of the Medical Research Facility

CLOSER ANGLE of lab coat man as he walks down a hallway and enters goes through a door.
INT-room of same building

The room is set up as an ORDINARY LIVING ROOM EXCEPT IT HAS ONE GLASS WALL. We see MR CHICKEN AND MRS. CHICKEN snuggling on a couch.

Mrs chicken: I hope you’re just glad to see me

Mr chicken: I wish that was it, but it’s my heart…it’s getting even bigger.

Mrs chicken: They have got to help you!!!

Mr chicken:They’re making it happen. (Getting angry) They’re dammed experiments to see if they can make chicken taste like Chicago style pizza, or a Wriggly field hot dog…

Mrs chicken:(Becoming hysterical) We’ve got to get out of here!!!

Mr chicken: (Resolved) The only way I’m getting out of here is if my heart bursts out of my chest and goes in search of burger.

Mrs. Chicken is weeping and Mr. Chicken’s beak is trembling.

Mr chicken: I am just so sorry I let them catch you…

Mrs chicken: If they hadn’t caught me I would have come here myself to be with you!

CLOSE ON Mr. Chicken

Mr chicken:(Clucking softly, tearing up and hiding his face) I don’t deserve you…

OS (Mrs chicken): You’re about to get laid.

PAN OUT to show both of them. Mrs. Chicken is rubbing her stomach with her arm-ish wings.

Mrs chicken: I think the egg is coming.


We see Mr Chicken pacing nervously, (head bobbing like a chicken) and Lab Coat man attending to Mrs. Chicken. Mrs. Chicken in on a table with her legs in stirrups. There is a nest on the floor under her legs. There is an air of tension.

lab coat man: Don’t push too hard you’ll crack it.

Mrs chicken:(Straining) AWWWWWW

Mr chicken: (Panicky) Help her!!!

CUT TO CLOSE ON Lab Coat man’s face

lab coat man:(Sweating) It’s coming!

CUT TO CLOSE ON Mrs. Chicken

Mrs chicken:(In pain, to husband) This is all your fault!


Mr chicken: (Looking guilty) But you shook your tail feathers in my face, I thought this is what you wanted!

OS (Mrs Chicken): AWWWWWW


INTO VIEW all three characters and there is an egg in the basket.

INT-the Living Room from before, days later-Day.

We see the Chickens on the couch. There is a NEST LOOKING BASSINET in the corner, with an EGG in it.

Mr chicken: (Proudly) That's a fine looking egg Mrs.

Mr Chicken peaks Mrs. Chicken’s cheek as she pretends to push him away.

Mrs chicken: (Feigning irritable) Do you mind? I’d like to get this one out of the egg before we start on another one.

Mr chicken: (Continuing to peck her cheek) But I think I could give you a double yoke this time!

The peck and hug. SFX OS: CRACK. The chickens get up and head for the egg in the basinest.

Mrs chicken: I hope it’s a hen

Mr chicken: A rooster would be nice too.

CLOSE ON the chicken’s happy faces and their expressions turn from joy to horror.

Mrs chicken: My chick, my chick, what has happen to my chick.

Mr chicken: What did they do!!!

REVERSE ANGEL as we see emerging from the cracked egg, neither hen nor rooster but a thumping baby chicken heart.

October 13, 2008


Yesterday we attended the wedding for parents of the poodle we are doggy sitting. It was a beautiful ceremony and the bride was gorgeous. The bride’s maids wore stunning red dresses, the groomsmen were prefect gentleman and the ring bearer preformed his duties without creating a film clip for America’s Funniest (little brats who need spanked) Videos.

The wedding was at a very elegant Methodist Church in one of the oldest and finest parts of town. Wayne and I were also married in a Methodist Church because it was a nice middle ground between our two family’s religions and God bless the Methodists, they’ll take anybody. When it came time to dispense the sacrament it was explained that all denominations were welcome to participate, even you pseudo-Catholics that only go to Church on Christmas and Easter and the Jack Mormons too. Well; they didn’t say that but we knew we were good to go up front.

While waiting my turn I caught the eye of the bride and we waved and giggled and I winked at the groom and snickered, so I was not behaving in a reverent manner and was caught a little off guard when it was my turn. I stepped up and by rote made the sign of the cross, took a piece of the bread and said thank you Fa…. err, Rev… um, Past…Dude?

Wayne has been telling me for years that it is not always necessary to say something. In fact when in doubt say nothing. AS IF!

Well the Pastor politely ignored my bobble and I managed to make it through the rest of the ceremony without incident. I did ditch Granny in the receiving line but that was after the ceremony!

The reception:
Two words; open bar!! It would have been cheaper for the matrimonial couple to board the dog for a week and not invite me to the wedding, rather than set me loose on an open bar. But I made up for it by not eating any of the shrimp appetizers.

While we were all waiting for the couple to come out and be toasted, I was standing by the gazebo minding my own business, sneaking sips of my champagne and calculating in my head how much I could drink and still have enough for the toast. But I ended up polishing off the flute while hearing about some very personal stuff from the groom’s second cousin from up north. (Side note; make nice with the wait staff, tell how you used to wait table back in the day and what a pain in the ass the snotty guests can be, and they will make sure you get a little extra champagne.)

But what is it about me that makes people walk up and say, “Hello I’m so and so” and start telling me their deal? GEEK MAGNET! That’s what Wayne calls me. I mean the guy wasn’t that bad, he was an average Joe, his wife was nice, and their kid was cute, but seriously, you should not tell a slightly drunky girl you just met at a wedding that you and your wife got engaged at a wake when she was 8 months pregnant. I mean really, how I was supposed to know the kid didn’t know. So it was a little awkward when the teen joined us later and I asked if he was the one at the wake with them, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.

Holy crap, it was like the lightning round of twenty questions: ‘What wake?” “ I don’t remember being at a wake with you?” “ What do you mean I was at the wedding too?” “ Who’s wedding?” “ What are you taking about?”

Yes, well, it was very nice meeting you, we really should be going, um bye now.

Don’t tell a tipsy woman at a wedding stuff you don’t want your kids to know, I’m just sayin!

All and all, if you don’t count my hair, it was a beautiful elegant wedding. A note about my hair: I put it up on electric rollers because I wanted it to look like the Samantha Who's hair.

It didn’t quite work out like that. I ended up with tight little curls and mall bangs. When Wayne saw me emerge from the bathroom he said he didn’t know if I was going to sing him an old country song or ask for donations for the local Christian channel. I thought he was exaggerating till the bride said she liked my come to Jesus hair do. UMP.

But we had a great time anyway and when we got home the dog was so glad to see us, he
gave me a French kiss poodle style. It wasn’t bad, except Wayne says he’s not kissing me till I have my lips dry cleaned.

October 11, 2008

1 x Dog

We are doggy sitting this week while our friends are on their honeymoon. I just love this little poodle named Ranger. He is giving me the puppy lust. Maybe for Chirstmas.......

Dear Santa, I have been a very good girl this year; unless you count the lack of job thing, which I don't think you should! Oh, and if you are counting against me how many times I dropped the F-bomb this year, or even this month, ok today, then f#*$ you fat man, I didn't want a stinkin dog anyway!!

But if I promise to vacuum more often could I have a standard Labradoodle anyway?

October 9, 2008

1 x Wreath

I made this for my mom.
I should probably think about getting a job soon....

October 4, 2008

A Class Assignment

In the writing class we are taking, I wrote a comic book based on the nursery rhyme, Little Miss Muffet. It was an assignment to prepare us for writing for screenplays and is formatted as a comic book script, but I think it is kind of fun.

If you care to have a look click here.

September 29, 2008

TV, Underwear and the Mailbox

Tonight I watched TV in my underwear/big shorts.


This evening's episode of How I Met Your Mother dealt with Marshall's urge to find the burger he once loved but more importantly the increase in his underwear ratio.

The underwear ratio is how far you are willing to travel outside of your bedroom in your underwear. You see one of the show's characters, Marshall, has been out of work for a while and spending more and more time in his underwear. His ratio went from the bedroom to the bathroom, but then stretched to the couch, to opening the door to get the paper, and before you know it he was going downstairs to get the mail in his boxers. The last straw shows Marshall out to dinner with his wife in his underwear.


So my underwear ratio has been increasing!

With each rejection letter. With each bill that I pay, bringing me closer to the point where I may have to go back to the cubical world. With each weekly visit to the self-inflicted torture chamber that houses the bathroom underwear ratio increases.

My mailbox is approximately 60 feet from my front door and I have made the journey sans what would traditionally be considered pants.

Don't judge me!

We all have an underwear ratio, and I hope yours is short. I hope you never go to the mailbox in your underwear. (It should be noted this is not the same as going to the mail box in your lingerie because your neighbor is a fireman. And it should be noted I only did that a few times and it was 20 years and 2o tons ago, before I found out the fireman was gay.)

But I digress.

I hope that the distance you travel in your underwear is determined by your sense of adventure and not your lack of give a shit. I hope that you look good in your underwear and that you don't even own big shorts. I hope that my neighbors are nearsighted.

September 27, 2008

2 x Bears

I love me, I have so much fun, am just so stinkin cute, and in the world according to Wendy a heck of a catch. You are so lucky Wayne my love.

This week I have: been writing a movie with Wayne (really, I am the lucky one) tweaking my TV pilot, grocery shopping, house cleaning, gardening (including fertilizing the lemon tree) mowed the lawn, weed whacked, edged, dyed my own hair, (back to red the way MS Clairol intended it to be), attended class, looked for a job (anywhere but in a cubical), shopped for fabric so we can make a headboard and matching drapes for our bedroom, talked to my mom every day, walked most days, researched ways to lower my cholesterol, cleaned up a plate that I broke, bought a shower gift for my girlfriend, a birthday present for my father in-law, repotted a plant, read a book and made these… But today I forgot to shower.

September 22, 2008


The hole in the ozone layer grew exponentially last night due to a cosmically proportioned sucking action originating from the NOKIA Theatre in Los Angeles during the 60th annual Emmy awards.

Authorities are trying to pinpoint the exact locale of the main suck, which in turn caused the sucked schism in the atmosphere, by using Kathy Griffin’s Ann Margret/Petticoat Junction hair as a marker from which to search in all directions. She co-presented with Don Rickles, and one scientist had this to say regarding Ms. Griffin’s quaff, “holy extensions Paul Mitchell, what a mess.”

I was privileged not to have seen the show in its entirety and am thankful as there are some reports from my family and friends of an inability to turn the channel, much like onlookers who can’t help but watch a train wreck. One of my cousins is missing and is presumed stuck in a sucking tractor beam somewhere between Ohio and California.

No one person can be held responsible; it took 5 hosts and a team of writers, to create the televised tragedy. While some viewers called local stations to report that their TV’s were stuck in slow motion, they were assured that their televisions where functioning properly, it just seemed like the show was taking forever.

However, I did watch most of the show, because I am an aspiring Tina Fey (in some ways), and I wanted to see just how many Emmys she was going to get. Last count was a lot. Also, I am always a little moved by the who died montage. They are saving a spot for you Don, but I kid, you know I kid.

September 21, 2008

You Load Sixteen Tons and What Do You Get....

I Owe My Soul: The Black Diamond Covenant
By Diane Mechem Kinser (2008)

I Owe My Soul is a book about three women who battle sexism, racism, and classism in the early 1900's in southern Ohio. Our heroines: Mary Rose Markham uses her wealth and social status for philanthropic endeavors; Jane Moore, a former rich brat, learns what it is like to live and love on the other side of the tracks; and Sarah Washington, descendant of slaves, battles for the right to use her God given talents with a pen, while trying to protect and make things better for her family.

Kinser starts by telling us about each woman. In doing so she paints a historical picture of the Southern Ohio towns of Nelsonville, San Troy and even the capitol city of Columbus, while weaving in the women’s personal stories of life and love in that time. Kinser then brings the women together. The Black Diamond Covenant; signifying their bond in the area of coal country known as Black Diamond.

This book does a wonderful job of melding history and great story telling. I was intrigued with each of the women’s personal stories and compelled to see how they would be brought together. As a former Buckeye, I was impressed with the skillful way the author used the state’s history as the catalyst to bond our heroines. They strove to take Ohio’s proud involvement in the underground railroad and women’s suffrage and advance it even further while battling those who did not believe in equality for all.

Mrs. Kinser is a professor at Columbus State Community College in Columbus Ohio, and was my professor when I attended school there many years ago. I recommend this book to all, not just Ohioans, who are interested in love stories, history and most of all friendship. The student gives the teacher an A.

September 19, 2008

No News is Good News?

The cruel reality of my L.A. rejection letters is that they are not really rejection letters at all. Week before last, I opened the mail box to find one of my query letters to an L.A. agent returned to me unopened. That’s ok, I thought, I don’t know that they didn’t like my idea; they didn’t even look at it.

Last week a large legal size envelope. Holy crap, I told Wayne, it can’t be a rejection letter, the envelope is so big. You following the pattern here? Now how the hell am I supposed to know if anybody likes my work if they won’t even read the query letter. Which by the way, I spent as much time writing the one page query letter as I did the first episode of the show I am trying to sell.

Last night on my way to class, I checked my mail. *z%#* I missed the delivery of a certified letter. You got it; it was from a HUGE talent agency. I had to make it through 15 hours till the post office opened this morning so I could pick it up. That’s 15 hours of trying to figure out if they would send a rejection letter certified mail. The notice from the postman indicated that it was a big envelope, so I tried not to think that it may be anything else.

It’s so hard to sleep when you are practicing your Emmy speech and trying to figure out who to thank and who to snub.

I didn’t work up the nerve to go the post office till an hour after they opened this morning. Why oh why did they return my unopened query letter in a big envelope, certified mail?

The cruel reality is I don’t know if I have been rejected or not. I don’t know if my work is what they are looking for, because no one will look at it. I guess no news is good news, but I am really going to flip a biscuit if I see FedEx coming up my driveway with an unopened letter.

September 17, 2008

Comic Books and Screenplays

Wayne and I started taking a screenwriting class last Thursday. I think I have found my thing with screenwriting and teleplays. I have never had this much fun writing, so I am going to stick with till I get it right. (Update, I have now begun to get rejection letters from L.A., very exciting!) I have several projects that I am working on and Wayne and I have an Oscar winning screenplay we want to write together; hence the class.

So you go in to class not knowing what to expect when in walks this bundle of excitement and energy named Mitch Hyman. He starts talking 10 minutes before class was to have started and went for 2 hours after that without any lose of enthusiasm for his subject, or lack of interest from the students. When he asked if we wanted a break everyone was said no, keep going. Now at first I was slightly leery because Mitch said the first class would be about writing comic books. In fact Mr. Hyman is well known for his creation, “Bubba the Redneck Werewolf”. What do I know or care about comic books, “aren’t comic books just for superheroes and action stories?” I asked. Long story short, Mitch showed us how writing a comic book has similarities with writing a screenplay. Both are for a visual media, and you have to think about showing the action and not telling it. In fact what is a comic book if not a story board? Very interesting!

At the end of class he gave us a writing exercise to make a comic out a Miss Muffet the nursery rhyme. We could do what ever we wanted with the characters and storyline, so I made Miss Muffet into Detective Missy Muffet, spider hunting cop. I am having so much fun with my story; if I get an A, maybe I’ll post some of it here. If I don’t get an A, I’ll add it to my stack of rejection letters.

September 13, 2008

Procrastination and Perspiration

Why have so many words been written about procrastination? Because it puts off writing about anything else: unless you have something to say about procrastination itself, then good luck. I have been planning on writing this post for a week, but when I would sit down to start I would think of things that NEEDED to be done. I walked everyday this week; usually I put off exercise. I cleaned the house, mowed the lawn, fertilized the lemon tree and organized the garage; all of which had been on my To Do list for a while.

This is a three day weekend for Wayne and me so we decided to paint the bedroom. We have lived in this house for almost 4 years, and the bedroom still has the builders white chalk water they call paint. So after reading my email, balancing the check book, having breakfast and two cups of decaf, and discussing the meaning of life, we took a walk. That makes it now eleven o’clock already and we are going to start painting, just as soon as I finish this post.

Oh, wait I better call my mom first, and Wayne’s mom and………

September 5, 2008

Burning Eye Contact

Have you ever been sitting in an emergency room trying to get someone’s attention? If you are not bleeding to death you might as well be dead. Believe me, I could not do that job so I am not complaining, I am just complaining. We recently had a visit to the ER that lasted 5 hours, because after being seen and given the news that all was well, we were waiting for the walking papers that had to be signed by God or somebody and they couldn’t find him. At hour 4 the nurse told us we would be sent home in about 15 minutes. I am not mad at her, because she was being thorough and just wanted to make sure that Wayne was not in fact bleeding to death or possibly even dead already and it had gone unnoticed. I applaud her diligence.

But once you are fixed up, the urge to get out of the emergency room is all consuming. So after the promised release time came and went I started to get edgy. Wayne was alright; he was propped up and covered on a comfy gurney enjoying the oxygen, (he would not give me a hit), but I was sitting on a tiny plastic chair and I REALLY had to pee. I did not want to use the public bathroom in the emergency room because, come on, do you know how many sick, bleeding, pussing, dripping, oozing people there are in an emergency room. I figured I'd wait and go at the gas station, where the people are more likely to just be sickos and not sick.

So I began the Burning Eye Contact. This technique can also used when you are trying to get your check from the server. Every time somebody in scrubs passed our curtained area I assumed the stare posture. I would lock my eyes on them and not even blink, less I miss a chance at eye contact. I know they could feel it. I was practically sending laser beams from my pupils capable of grabbing your head in an ocular tractor beam and making you look at me. But those people are pros. They know how to avoid the Burning Eye Contact better than a little kid who just lifted some cookies.

It took strength and determination but at hour 5 I got it. I got eye contact with our nurse. She was standing looking at the patient board with her eyes toward the ceiling in order to read it. I know she had been busy because my previous attempts were mostly aimed at the back of her head as she hurried past our curtain. So I knew I had to make it work. I stared hard and I did not quit. I could see her start to crack; one of her eyes make a quick jerking movement in my direction and I knew I had her. I burned my eye rays into her cheek till she admitted defeat, turned and gave me access to both her eyes. I’ll be right over with your papers she said.

Victory at last. 5 minutes later we walked out of the emergency room with instructions to see Wayne’s regular Dr and to take it easy. I want to thank the ER for being there when we needed it, and I want to thank God we were not there 6 hours.

September 2, 2008

Based on a true story of love, victory and fermentation.

I usually don’t review new movies, cause everybody does, so we’ll just call this a suggestion. If you ever detected the aroma of bacon fat and honey melons in a fine wine go see this movie; but for crying out loud don’t go see it just because you loved Sideways.

Bottle Shock


Directed by Randall M. Miller

Listen I loved Sideways, but all the critics are saying Bottle Shock is no Sideways. Yeah, it’s not supposed to be. Just because both movies are back dropped in wine country, it is not the central theme of either movie, in my humble opinion. (Sideways is set in the Central Valley and Bottle Shock is set in Napa Valley) So what is Bottle Shock about? I’m glad you asked.

It’s a father and son duking it out. It’s a son finding his way. It’s a love story of women and wine. It’s a feel good David kicks Goliath’s ass movie, based on a true story of Chateau Montelena’s victory in the 1976 Paris Tastings. And just for fun, there are cute guys, pretty girls, and a look back to when Napa Valley was still just a bunch of hicks trying to make wine.

Even though he wears a pretty bad wig in this movie, you may recognize Chris Pine, who is smoking hot, from Smokin Aces. Chris plays Bo Barrett, son of Jim Barrett (Bill Pullman) owner of Chateau Montelena. Jim just wants to succeed at making great Chardonnay and Bo just wants to get laid. But they come together in the quest for perfection and when given the opportunity to compete against the presumed unbeatable French wines, it is Bo that makes it happen.

There really was a Paris Tastings in 1976, organized by Steven Spurrier (Alan Rickman) a Brit in Paris, who in the movie is aided by Maurice Cantavale (Dennis Farina) an American in Paris. Spurrier comes to California to find wine for the competition and is surprised at what he discovers. However, he is not nearly as surprised as the snotty French judges were when they picked a California wine in a blind tasting.

The movie also tells some of the story of Gustavo Brambila, played by Freddy Rodriguez (another total hottie), who worked for Jim Barrett and went on to make his own wine, under the label Gustavo Thrace. There is a love triangle involving winery intern Sam, (Rachael Taylor of Transformers) and the boys, but in the end the day is saved by yet another pretty girl, Joe, portrayed by Eliza Dushku. All we needed was a boy name Sue.

You may have to look around to find a theater, check the Bottle Shock website. Here in central Florida you can see the movie in Winter Park, which is just moments from several great wine shops. I recommend seeing the matinee, then spending the afternoon browsing wine shops, sampling and taking a good bottle home.

August 28, 2008

The Apex of Sucks for You

Here we go again, carefree and cubicle-less. And I am only carefree because I just paid all the bills; next month is going to suck; won’t be feeling so free and happy then will I? But right now I am loving it.

I am no good at corporate cubicle bullshit. It’s like being in high school, and I hated high school. Only now instead of cliques of snotty brats with boyfriend jackets and mall hair, it’s teams of cheap skirt suits with bad bobs and head bands. God help you if you’re in with the wrong crowd, or in my case trying to stand outside the fracas and stay unnoticed.

The final straw was being quite loudly, enough for every
prairie dog to hear, called into one of the 14 manager’s office to explain why I had not returned a customer's call. However, all our calls are recorded and with less than one minutes effort, the desperate to prove her worth among all the bosses cow, who had herded me into her office, by which I mean a cube that has all four walls, found the call and clearly heard me returning the customers call and satisfying their needs. Something I am sure that particular, now ex-boss, is all too unfamiliar with doing. I was dismissed without apology or explanation, to everyone who had witnessed my scolding, that I had not been derelict in my duties.

And while you may be thinking; “that is the apex of sucks for you,” you may be right and that's a good thing, because it all gets better from here. Yes, I now have to find another job, but that’s just it. It’s just a job. I’m still gainfully unemployed in my chosen field of writing and therefore have lost nothing and I solider on unscathed.

Besides how many of you would love, just once, to tell a crazy bitch to shove it and walk out with as much of your cubicle d├ęcor that you can carry stuffed in your purse? So what if you can pay your electric bill next month, it’s overrated!

August 25, 2008


We went to Panera Bread and there was a kid working the counter named Dante. So I asked him, "So Dante," are you even suppose to be here today?" He said no, but thanked me for asking and gave me some bagel samples. He totally got me, I love it when that happens.

August 23, 2008

It's Electric

It spans the generations, the color wheel, and economic barriers. I’m told in some states you must have it at the wedding for the marriage to be legal. We had it at ours, Wayne just doesn’t remember. Granny does it; the kids do it, although not as well as the able bodied adults, hell even the priest does it if he’s had enough wine. But even so, I was a little surprised to see it done in the middle of the dining room of the Greek restaurant we visited last night.
But perhaps I shouldn't have been; because it also spans the species.

August 21, 2008


I saw this recently on a kid's tee shirt. Well, she could have been anywhere between 18 and 25, but she looked like a kid to me. The shirt struck me for two reasons. First you don’t usually see tee shirts like that on kids. There were no skulls flipping the bird, no effigy of a long dead rock icon, just YOU DON’T GET WHAT YOU WISH FOR YOU GET WHAT YOU WORK FOR. My first thought was this kid must be an athlete, because watching the Olympics makes you realize how hard those kids work to get what they want.

So then my second thought was me. (Usually my first thought) I was doing all this wishing I would win the contest and my script would make it to TV. I even asked other people to wish for me. And when I did not win and it was time to work, I have not been able to get it going. I managed to compile a list of agents I want to query but I can’t seem to finish the query letter. I found some contact info for the actress I would love to play the lead, but I am not sure if she would even read my mail. The problem is that I am spending time looking for places to submit, and can’t seem to get down to the work of writing. Writing the query, writing more episodes, writing more posts. I can’t seem to get back to working for it instead of wishing for it.

If you can find it in your hearts, please wish for me that I can find the inspiration to stop wishing and start working. Thanks and here’s wishing you a nice day

August 15, 2008


My sitcom did not make the top 25 in the script contest. I am somewhere between screw them, they are stupid, what do they know; and screw this, I am stupid and what the hell do I know about writing for TV. The latter smarts. However comma I have always prided myself on being tenacious, occasionally to the extent of the retarded mindset of a pit-bull who won’t let go just because you can’t make him; so I am working on agent query letters. Also have no idea how to do that.

Anyway, who says I can’t write for TV, except for those contest guys and my mother who says I should get a job for Christ’s sake, as if Jesus needs me to have a job, he’s doing ok look who his dad is. I mean who better to write for TV than me, I was raised by a TV. A nice one that sat on the floor and later was a nice stand for the new TV. And Paul Lynd never sent me out of the room when he wanted to say something blue.

Some of my favorite shows could be a little frustrating, but maybe that’s why we watched them. Like I knew from a young age that somebody should have kicked Gilligan's ass, I wanted to be Ginger, even though I am really more of a Mary Ann, and that the professor was bangin both of them. I knew Mrs. Brady was well quaffed bullshit and that my human mother was a lot more like Alice and Alice from Mel’s Diner.

I loved Dick Van Dyke, maybe more than Captain Kirk, I loved Mary Tyler Moore, but not as much as Dick and I love Rhoda but not as much as Mary. Why couldn’t they let those girls be happy, do you think Mary was really so big a prig that she couldn’t keep a boyfriend and was Joe really that bad? No, you just can’t mess with the formula. What happened after Sam and Dianne got together, Maddie Hayes and David Addison bumped uglies? Stinksville! Do you really think Ted is ever going to meet your mother? Not if they want us to go on watching.

See, I know how TV works, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. But my script isn't a rehash of old formulas either. It has some really funny, snarky characters that make you laugh, maybe even cry, (when I get around to writing the very special episode that you and your family won’t want to miss) and interesting, relevant in today’s world storylines.

So, I know that trying to get my show on TV, or get my books published is like trying to win the lottery, but even my mother says you can’t win if you don’t buy a ticket, and somebody’s gotta win.

Update: Not Going To Hell

We were in the grocery store the other night, (I ended the self inflicted Wal-Mart purgatory), and there he was! I asked Wayne to go and look at him and he was not impressed. I guess the only reason I thought I was impressed with this boy, is because I thought he was impressed with me. Gawd, am I a desperate attention whore. But I feel better now that I have figured out that I was never really attracted to the boy, I was attracted to the thought that a boy like that could be attracted to me. The kind of boy that was never attracted to me in high school; or later when I started going to dance clubs. The kind of boy that all the girls loved and all the boys did too. I just wish I had spent less time lamenting boys like that and maybe I would have found my man sooner.
Super love you Wayne; I am very impressed with you and endlessly thrilled that you are attracted to me.

August 14, 2008

That Is So Un-Kewl

I am awake. I am a sentient nerd.

The reality that I may always have been a nerd and not known it, really harshes my buzz. I thought I was kewl. I rebel to the point of screwing myself regularly, whilst thinking I just stuck it to the man, I wear pink converse tennis shoes, classic kewl kid garb only slightly milded by the hue, and I use the f-bomb as an adjective every chance I get. You see, I am just as kewl as I was in the 10th grade. Which would be totally rad dude except that I keep catching myself doing way un-kewl shit.

Recently I became aware that when I greet my neighbors I usually say, “hey neighbor”. I thought this was a good way to deal with the fact that I can never remember anybody’s name. And I caught myself concluding a voicemail with “okey doky doodely doo, I’ll talk to you later”. WTF! I shiver to think how many times I may have done that before my awakening.

OMG! Even though I am fluently using f-ing text abbreviations I have begun to think I may not be knarly after all. In fact I think I might be Ned Flanders.

August 13, 2008

Roach Bait and Weed Killer

Last year for my birthday the neighbors gave us some “wine”, along with a powdered mix that you add to the “wine”, and blend with ice for “merlot” “slushees”. Hey at least they made an effort, misguided as it was, to give us wine and not just wine stuff.

We stuck it in the wine fridge and forgot about it. Well, we were so out of wine that the other night I opened it. In a former life I have drank: Mad Dog 20/20, Manischewitz, Boonesfarm, Bartles & James (all varieties) and some homemade stuff my older sister’s friend stole from her grandfather’s basement. But even I could not drink this.

It was so bad I couldn’t pour it down the sink because we have a septic tank and I was afraid of what it would do to the little turd eaters that live there. Don’t want to kill the excrement devouring microbes that keep the front lawn from becoming a really big loo. And I did not want to pour it in the yard and kill the grass I have been trying all summer to save.

What to do? Once before when we had some really bad wine, the kind from a big glass jug, Wayne’s dad told me if I put it in saucers on the floor the silverfish and palmettos, that invaded the apartment we were living in, would crawl in and drown. It didn’t work and I ended up polishing off the jug, (don’t tell Wayne, but I couldn’t help it he was out of town, and I was lonesome.) But this “wine” was worse than that, and since we are bug free, knock wood and thank you God, I poured it in the cracks of the driveway to kill the wayward weeds trying to grow there.

So, I won’t say if it kills weeds, bugs, or septic systems don’t drink it, because the exceptions to that rule would be too numerous to list.

August 10, 2008


This month is the 6th anniversary of our being in Florida, and I have learned to discern differences in the seasons. We definitely have a winter and a summer but the meandering into spring and fall is subtle and easily missed.

Today while I was watering the lemon tree, I felt the vaguest hint of fall in the air, or smelled it, I don’t know, both maybe.

It reminded me of being a kid at the pool; maybe it was the humidity or that sometimes we can smell the ocean here.

And I remembered the slight melancholy feeling of summer ending, going back to school, and no more pool.

I remembered the promise of the holidays, which as a kid seemed so much further off this time of year than they do now.

There was just an indefinable something this morning, maybe the way the sun hangs in the sky in August, maybe just that it’s August.

August 6, 2008

Too Good to be Threw

I just reconnected with an old employer from waaaay back in 1984. Thank you internet. Kate ran a consignment store in Columbus Ohio, called One More Time, and I worked there as a clerk. I was quite impressed and sometimes a little intimidated by her, but I watched her and learned how a strong independent woman operates. Those were some fun times; I learned a lot of valuable lessons, and when I took a crack at running my own store, 10 years later, I even bought her book.

When I worked at One More Time I was 19 going on 2 and not the most confident person on earth; somewhat used to being damned if I did and dammed if I didn’t. I think Kate knew that and wanted me to grow some backbone. “Show some initiative Wendy.” she told me once in a way that made me think my mousey little fluff ball act was not going to cut it with this woman; and so I did. Not exactly a moment Helen Reddy would have sung about, but it did have an effect on me, and many times over the years being the first to speak up or show a little strength has helped me get to where I wanted.

And when I was breaking up with the architect and not showing up for work and being a crying mess when I did show up, she told me, “Wendy, work can be a break from what is happening in your life.” Well, I never forgot that either and it has worked for me, even though I did not get it when she said it, because I thought breaking up with a boyfriend of 3 months was worse than death. But since then there have been times when I thought, thank God I am going to work tomorrow and won't have to deal with this or that...

After my most recent experience of working for
ass on fire women, I look back on what I remember as Kate’s no BS attitude and long for a logical work environment, even though at the time I didn’t realize how good I had it. But Kate wasn’t all brass. I was living in a basement apartment riding the bus to work, and if I missed the transfer, I stood in the snow, froze like hell and was late. That winter, Kate gave us Christmas bonuses….and it was enough to buy that car from my sister’s boyfriend that I had been talking about. Checks were presented at a nice restaurant, also courtesy of Kate.

I could go on, but suffice it to say I remember what she did for me and others. One of the girls working at the shop went on to buy it, ran it quite well and even expanded it. Kate also got her man to give me snorkeling lessons so my Ohio wouldn’t show too much when the architect took me to Key West. And when I bought a to die for gold jacket from one of her regular customers on the side, she barely said a word. (Probably should have fired me, sorry about that Kate.)

So when I got her response to my email today, and she remembered things about me, I started to remember all the things I admired about her. Thanks Kate for the job, the bonus, the advice, and the friendship, cause I didn’t know it then, but you were a friend

August 1, 2008


Last weekend I went down to Hollywood Florida to audition for The Biggest Loser. I went last year and met two women with whom I am still friends. In fact this year I auditioned with one of them as a team. But I've got to tell you, the whole thing was a big fat rip off; pun intended.

We waited in line five hours outside of the Hard Rock Casino, enduring disparaging looks from drunk asses staggering their way home at five in the morning. If you are hammered, shoeless, alone, no purse or phone, with your too tight, I guess you could call it a dress, caught in your cottage cheese ass crack, while your fake boobs bounce precariously out of the top of your hooker red garb, and you stumble past a line of fatties three or four times, while looking for your car or your pimp or whatever, I don’t think you should throw nasty looks. At least the queue of chunks was looking for a way to help themselves.

Then there was the lanky waif who asked what the line was for. Pestered by the reproachful inquiries, on of the portly crew informed the poor witless imp that we were all waiting for the cupcake eating contest to start. This drew only minor snickers until she doubled back and queued up with the rest of us. She did look rather hungry. Her boyfriend soon rescued her and whisked her off in pursuit of a hot sign at Krispy Kreme.

Despite the onlookers, the first three hours in line weren’t too bad. We laughed, told stories etc., but then the sun came over the building behind us. We spent the next two hours standing in the south Florida sun trying to keep our hair and makeup looking good for our audition. Audition…what a load of crap. When we finally did get inside, we waited more and then we were herded into an arena where we had to run a gauntlet of vendors hawking everything from fat burning water to diet programs to sugar free chocolates. (The chocolates were actually pretty good.) All that time in line and then we have to walk through a live infomercial just to get two, regulated by a girl with a stop watch, minutes with a casting person. And, there were eight of us in each group, so that gave you like thirty seconds to “audition”.

At first I was disappointed that we did not get picked, but now that I think about it I am relieved. One day I will be a healthy weight, I will be published and maybe even sort of famous. So, do I really want clips of me in spandex shorts and a sports bra all over You Tube? I think not. Or more realistically; do I want everyone where I or my husband work to know exactly how much I weigh? I’d rather give you my checking account number.

So that’s it for my attempts to humiliate myself on national TV. Unless of course I get the call from Deal or No Deal; I would so take the deal at any offer over $250k.

July 30, 2008

I Haz Gots the Blahz

I wish I could shake this utter lack of enthusiasm that has been sucking up my life force for the past 2 days. I don’t have the blues just the blahs. I gotta shake it off, I have stuff to do, like post about the weekend before next weekend.

July 23, 2008

Which Cubie You Be?

The guy in the cube next to me is about half my age so I figured he'd know; “Dude,” I says because I know when you use slang young people think you are neat. “How much is Wii?”

“Depends on where you get it. “ Dude says, refraining from calling me ma’ am.

This response provokes a Prairie Dog* from the girl in cube 13, across the row from Dude, who asks, “Did you say weed?”

“No,” I responded, trying to say, "shut up dumbass before they hear you and mind your own bee’s wax," by drastically raising one eyebrow.

P.D. from girl in Cube 11, “I thought you said weed too!”

“Wii”, I said!

“Weed?” cube 13 repeated.

“Wii, the game!!!” now I was past caring.

Giggles and grin’s from cube 11. “Ha ha ha, you said weed.”

If you can’t beat em, join em. “How much is WEED these days? Last time I smoked pot, a nickel bag was $5.

Dude rejoins, “A nickel bag’s $20.”

“Does your mother know you been puffin fatties?” More cool slang from the swell old broad in cube 9.

“I only tried it once and it didn’t do anything for me,” Dude protested, “why pay for something that doesn’t do anything for you?”

“Dude?” I asked, “Maybe you bought 20 bucks worth of oregano!”

*Prairie Dog: When an office worker confined to a cubical pops his or her head above the cubical wall in order to ascertain what is happening in other cubicles. Cubicles are most often constructed with half walls, in which case a properly executed Prairie Dog would require only a slight elevation of the body using the chair’s arms to assist in achieving the desired height. To fully stand would draw unwanted attention thereby endangering the Prairie Dog’s lunch or break if they were caught and accused of not having enough to do.

July 22, 2008

A Day In The Life of Cubical Girl

Cubical life really is like the movie Office Space. I have 14 bosses; one of them is always running around with their ass on fire, usually in an effort to look as if they are so important that they must rush here and there.

If one boss has an idea they send it to all of cubical world, where it is then forwarded to all of cubical world by the other 13 bosses with an urgent tag saying please see email from so and so ASAP as her ass is on fire.

Urgent email will be followed by a cubical drop with same information, acknowledgement of which has to be signed and returned to one of the bosses then forwarded to the other 13 lest there be hurt feelings.

The last such correspondence regarded the effort to become a paperless office. We all signed a pledge to save paper, made a copy for each boss and one for HR. Sometimes I sneak a post it note when no one is looking.

If there is thunder and lightning outside, (the call center I work in is located in Florida, lightning strike capital of the world, so yeah it storms here every once in a while) we have to take off our head sets and cradle the phone between our ears and shoulder while typing and maintaining our call time. All I can figure is one of the bosses must have had a headset on her ass during a storm and it got set on fire.

Seriously, I can’t make this shit up; you are not allowed to eat in the kitchenette, which is complete with a sink, refrigerator and dishes. One of the bosses decided we must all go down stairs to the cafeteria. But God help you if you are off the phone too long, that gets all 13 asses burnin at once.

July 19, 2008

Average Sucks

I have said it before; if I was just a little bit smarter or even just a little bit dumber my life would be so much easier. And here is another shining example of how being average regularly kicks me in the ass.

I ran out to Target at lunch. I could see it was going to rain soon, so being as smart as I am I parked by the garden center. I reasoned that because I was able to get a spot so close to the door by parking back there, I would not get very wet if it was raining when I came out. Oh how smart I am!

I did a little too much shopping and only left myself enough time to check out and scurry back to work. La la la la. Check out, thank the clerk, explained that I was going to take my purchase back through the store as I was smart enough to think ahead and no thank you, I will not need a bag for my head. I assumed she meant to cover my hair as it was raining like hell.

Now I’m getting a little tight on time and I kinda of have to rush to get ALL THE WAY TO THE BACK OF THE STORE so I can go out through the garden center door. That’s right; they close the garden center when it’s raining like hell. ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE FRONT OF THE STORE, grab the bag for my head and rush outside, where I have to go ALL THE WAY TO THE BACK OF THE STORE, in the pouring rain, to where I left my car.

If I were a little dumber, I would not have noticed the clouds, parked by the front door, got a little wet and made it back to work on time. If I were a little smarter, I might have figured out that they close the garden center when it rains like hell, parked by the front door and made it back to work on time. Luckily I have just enough brains to keep me from suffocating myself with the bag I put on my head.

July 18, 2008

Write That Down

We stopped at Publix to buy some lettuce; (I’m lying, it was ice cream) and while we were waiting in line, Wayne was perusing a ladies fitness magazine. What that girl was fit for is not printable here, but I am sure she was quite athletic and could hold her breath for long stretches of time.

Don’t give me the ole men are programmed to look spiel; I’ve seen men look with their mouths hanging open and dripping spittle. My man doesn’t do that, but he wasn’t reading the articles either, so I gave him a knuckle to the delt in the hopes that it would help him refocus, (on me). Sort of like a medicinal slap to the face of a hysterical person.

Wayne turns to look at me all innocent like; “What?” he says with mock anguish, “it’s not like I would sleep with her….But I would watch somebody else do it.”

Well you gotta laugh, that is a good line. So I did what any writer would do. I took out my notepad and started to write it down for future use. This drew a quizzical look from the checkout clerk who had been watching the whole thing, and was not thrilled with the conversation. Some people are no fun! So I told her the lawyer makes me write down everything he says so we can hold it against him later.

July 17, 2008


SCOTT GLENN (Appitizer)
KEVIN COSTNER (Amuse bouche)
BRIAN DENNEHY (Hungry Man Dinner)
JOHN CLEESE (Spotted Dick)

“Um, yes let’s see, I’ll start with a Costner, my girlfriend and I will split the Dennehy, and add a Goldblum on the side.”

No… that’s not the menu at the Midnight Star

Saloon it’s the cast list for Silverado.

Written/Directed Lawrence Kasdan
Written Mark Kasdan

This here is the story of two brothers, a brother and a lover. After getting sprung from 5 years in the poky, Emmet (Glenn) gets jumped on the way to meet up with his brother Jake (Costner). Emmet kicks some cowboy ass and heads out after the dudes who done it. Along the way he finds Paden (Kline), lover of dogs, canine and otherwise and saves him from the elements. While dining in an uncivil establishment, Emmet and Paden speak up for Mal (Glover) who is being refused his right to be served because he is a brother. And in the town of Turley, Jake has been arrested for being a kissing bandit and awaits hanging by the Sherriff of Nottingham…well sort of. Everybody saves everybody else’s hide and hence a bond is formed between our four heroes and they ride together into Silverado.

Along the way the boys meet up with a wagon train complete with pretty women and Rosanna Arquette. Could be a love triangle in the works but not for Jake, he’s saving all his loving for Tyree’s (Fahey) gal. Tyree is deputy, in Silverado, to Cobb (Dennehy) the lawless Sherriff, Saloon owner and all around bad apple. Running Cobb’s saloon is Stella (Linda Hunt) who Paden loves like a sister; saloon girls, Rae (Lynn Whitfield) who is Mal’s sister and Phoebe (Amanda Wyss) who is Tyree’s girl and the object of Jake’s non-sisterly affections (certain Appalachian areas excepted). General mayhem, gun fights, stampedes and heroic acts ensue.

I recon ya’ll will enjoy this buddy, cowboy, action, comedy movie. It’s got great lines, yummy cowboys, pretty saloon girls, and starts right off with a non-stop shoot out action scene that sets the tone for what’s to come. There is also some fine acting. Dennehy is one bad guy I would love to hate, but not till after I loved him, Kline has a heart of gold but don’t steal his hat, or look out. Glover and Glenn are our level headed leading men and in one of his first roles, Kevin Costner shines bright as the incorrigible little brother, with hints of a dark side.

Rent Silverado this weekend for a look back to when the west was fun.

July 16, 2008

I've Got a Talent For Picking Shows....Not

I don’t know why I wanted to, but we were watching America’s Got Talent last night. If you have ever seen the show you know that it is a “talent” contest for more than just singers, where three judges rate the acts. Sound familiar? Everyone hates the judge Piers (the Simon Guy), Sharon (Paula Abfool) loves everyone and David Hasselhoff (Randy, you rock dog) is a total dipshit.

It is amazing what passes for talent on this show, i.e. a lip syncing Tina Turner impersonator with a fat ass and a bad wig. So we decided to make it a little more fun. Each time the Hoff, as David likes to be known, proclaimed to an act that, “you” slur a little, “are what this show is all about.” we would take a drink. Object being to end up as drunk as the Hoff, pass out and not have to watch the show anymore.

Well, if by “you’re what this show is all about,” he means grown men crying for their Mama to be proud of them, strange little children with acts that make their Mama cry with pride, and freaks and geeks that make the rest of us cry, then drink up, cause it’s going to be a long night. You know it took a year after seeing
Nacho Libre for Wayne to let me pick a movie again; I guess I better just hand over the remote because it’s going to be a long time before I get to pick a TV show again.

July 8, 2008

How Would You Like Your Steak?

I love it when Wayne and I go out to dinner. We have great fun talking about plans for our home and our books and our cabin and then he will say something so smart and funny it makes me laugh so hard I snort. It’s not always sunshine and roses, it’s a little bit of work to keep things this great, but it is totally worth it and I refuse to give into the snark. I have a half theory that one of the reasons women lose their husbands to younger women, is not because of their bodies, hair, and makeup, it’s because those girls haven’t become bitches yet. Seriously, treat him like more than a sperm bank and a paycheck and maybe he’ll surprise ya. But I digress.

Thursday I was feeling bratty and sorry for myself because Wayne had to work on Independence Day and I would be alone. Poor me at home doing what ever I want, (actually I went shopping) while Wayne is working yet another holiday. So, he took me out to dinner to make me feel better. (I told you I was a brat). We drove around and ended up at Hops; just because... why not? Well, we got a really great meal, a professional courteous server and only spent like $60 bucks. My trailer park may be showing, but this chain that we weren’t expecting much from, surprised us with a really good ahi tuna appetizer with a smoky twist, grilled Wayne’s steak Pittsburgh rare, and managed the three special requests on my order. It was not the Ritz, but we have paid a lot more and not had as good of an all around experience.

In case you're like me and don’t know,
Pittsburgh rare means charred around the edges and practically cold and definitely bloody in the middle. Which led to our conversation regarding meat, sort of.. I asked Wayne, while he was scarfing up his steak, if he would eat the pilot of a plane he was on, that crashed in the mountains, to stay alive.

Between chews quite matter of factly, “Yes”.

“Well,” I said in a feeble attempt to get his goat, “which part would you eat first?”

He thought this over for not nearly long enough before replying, “Actually, I would eat the flight attendant first.”