December 30, 2009
December 17, 2009
December 7, 2009
It’s not my fault. Every time I turn on the TV I see that I should be on a different medication. So it’s no wonder I have developed a slight case of hypochondria.
Anywho, the problem was not apparent till I stood up and realized I appeared to be listing to the left. Then I knew I had a fail with a vital piece of my undergarment’s superstructure.
This isn’t the first time I’ve unhinged an underwire, and unfortunately it’s not the first time I broke one at work. In fact over the years I have had many brassiere blow outs. Once time I snapped a strap while bartending, so all night long I was putting in a little extra buttery nipple every time I mixed a drink.
Luckily over the years I have learned my lesson and I travel prepared. In my MacGyver purse I keep safety pins for strap reattachments and hook ruptures. I keep tissues to pad the stabby end of a protruding underwire. And in case of a break-the-glass type emergency, I keep duct tape in the trunk of my car.
Note: Do not get duct tape on your areola.
November 24, 2009
“Yeah, so?” you may be asking. “We know cubical world sucks, tell us something new?”
So… I have sunk to a new low.
The clock struck lunch, I raced down the stairs, threw my Lean Cuisine in one of the tower of dirty microwaves, ran to the bathroom, came back, grabbed my 300 calories of grilled chicken and penne with a “creamy” sauce, found the table with the least amount of other people’s lunches stuck to it and settled in for the remaining 23 minutes of freedom.
I forgot to pack utensils.
My lunch break falls exactly five hours into my shift with five to go after it. I was hungry and knew I would not make it till quitting time.
I tore off a corner of the box, formed something of a cardboard shovel out of it and ate my entrée. I am pretty sure I ate some of the box/fork. Does that count as fiber?
PS When I said, new low, I meant sober new low.
November 21, 2009
He used two characters that he had helped me create for a sitcom I had previously written. They are two characters that are very close to our hearts and so he chose to use them in a new setting. I loved it and still do.
We have just finished watching Love Actually which reminded me of the scene so I wanted to share it again this year. I hope you enjoy it too. Merry Christmas
INT. MID-WEST AIRPORT - DAY
LOGAN is calmly watching the blizzard outside as he talks on
the cell phone with EMMA, his fiancée.
LOGAN: Emma! Please don't cry!
EXT. POOL BAR - MAUI
EMMA is sipping a frothy egg-nog. As she sets it down, the
bartender adds another spash of 151 rum.
EMMA: (choking back the tears) But I'm soaking up the sun in Maui
and I need you here for Christmas!
INT. MID-WEST AIRPORT - DAY
As Emma sobs, Logan watches a jet slide on the icy tarmac and
gently strike the jet at his gate.
LOGAN: Honey, I'm going to the bar. This looks like it might take awhile.
EMMA: I hear that "let's stay calm while I process this information" tone in
Logan turns toward the Big Bamboo Lounge across from the
gate. Lights are strung along the faux thatched roof and a
large beach mural covers the back wall.
LOGAN: I'll call you back!
Logan closes his cell phone as Emma's barely heard "I love
you!" fades away. As Logan sits at the bar and orders his eggnog
with a 151 floater, he re-dials Emma.
EMMA: Logan! Merry Christmas baby!
She pick up her egg-nog as Logan replies.
LOGAN: (sipping)Merry Christmas Emma!
November 9, 2009
Went in for the final adjustment to my new hearing aid, the one that makes Wayne sound like Hugh Jackman, and I got an idea! As the technician fine-tuned the devise, I asked him to turn up the volume for women’s voices as I have trouble hearing them, especially my soft spoken mother-in-law. So you can see where I am going with this…
Many people are not as lucky as me in the mother-in-law and husband departments.
Wouldn’t it be great if they could make a hearing aid that really did make your husband sound like Hugh Jackman, tune out your mother-in-law completely and as long as we’re at it, make your boss audible only when handing out bonuses and extra vacation days?
OMG, what if they could make reading glasses work like beer goggles without the hangover? Put on your glasses, hearing aid, and voila!, growing old together isn’t quite as hard on the senses.
November 8, 2009
They had me at Whiskey River. We were sipping on Rumrunners at the bar, waiting for our outside table, when the old Willie Nelson song wafted in on an ocean breeze and made me all warm and mushy inside. We took our seat under a moonlit palm tree and island pink party lights at a table just west of the tiki hut where Kerri’s angelic, yet soulful vocals and Gary’s guitar strumming filled the warm night air with memories.
Another round of Rumrunners and I, sans microphone, was singing almost as loud as Kerri, but nobody seemed bothered. Everyone had this laid back ease about them that you can only get when everybody in the joint is on vacation. When they asked for requests, I thought of borrowing the server’s lighter, flicking it high above my head and shouting out, “FREE BIRD” but considering the price of the rooms, I was pretty sure I was the only one in the crowd that would have thought that was funny, even if they were being quite tolerant of my revelry.
We had been shelling earlier that day while watching a gorgeous sunset and we went again the next day. We found only little shells though, and thought about buying a souvenir instead. There is a little shop on a nearby island called SHE SELLS SEA SHELLS, and I had heard they had a conch in there that looked like Jesus.
There is a church in my hometown of Columbus Ohio that has a silhouetted image projected on the sanctuary that looks like a three story tall messiah signaling a score. We called it The Church of the Touchdown Jesus, but I digress.
Our last morning there we had breakfast at another outdoor restaurant before heading out. We sat across from a table with a large family; parents, kids, grandparents etc. I watched as a young woman, who was treading a thin line between being a good mom and a control freak, orchestrated the pack. Grandma sat back and watched the spoils of her protégé’s work.
A well trained child stood and leaned over the table to sip her drink from its straw, lest she spill it when trying to pick it up. And a well trained husband amused the toddler by outlining shapes for him to color in. “Here is the sun,” the dad told the babe as he drew a circle on the place mat. “Here is the sea and a boat and a bird,” he continued to draw as he spoke in saccharine tones. “Now you color them in,” he directed while filling the tiny fingers with crayons and patting him on the head, “and take about an hour and half to do it!”
We laughed about that all the way through the nature trail we explored before leaving the island. And that is really the best part of anytime we spend together, laughing together. Happy anniversary my love, I am yours always.
October 29, 2009
October 17, 2009
Have you ever been sitting at your job watching out the window, knowing you should be sooooo thankful that you got a window, but secretly hoping that those clouds rolling by would rain enough to cause Noah like flooding and that your boss would have to send everybody home early because the building is flooding? Of course, no one is hurt in this scenario either.
Remember like ten years ago when you were sitting in a cubical on job number who remembers and looking across the room at a woman in her fifties and praying to Jesus to please please please not let that be you one day? Do you know how soon one day is rolling up on you?
Do you know how they say… It’s not the heat it’s the humidity? They’re right! It’s the freaking humidity! Please save me from flippin' Florida, it’s like I have been wearing a bear suit for 7 years. A wet bear suit. I would kill for chapped lips.
Have you ever noticed that you can’t make me happy; I will always find something to bitch about?
October 5, 2009
October 1, 2009
Wayne and I both made the cut and are quarter finalists in the Cyberspace Scene writing competition from Creative Screenwriting magazine's 2009 Screenwriting Expo.
The next round starts tonight.
Keep your fingers crossed for us.
PS, I am about 1500 words away from finishing my children's chapter book, which I hope to also convert into a family movie screenplay.
September 29, 2009
Yep, cost $2300
But hear (pun intended) is how good medical techno is:
It is about the size of your thumb nail, it has a Pentium processor chip that allows it to be programmed to my specific loss ranges and pitches. It sits behind my ear and a little clear tube goes into my ear. You could only see it if you were about to lick me, and please don't because the warranty does not cover that.
Bonus: It also makes Wayne sound like Hugh Jackman.
September 27, 2009
September 13, 2009
#1 Speaking of Cats
A handsome couple, who’ve spent five months this year away from home, are discussing whether or not now is the time to finally get a dog.
I wish I could just rent a dog to play with on the weekends.
Like a doggie hooker?
No! Like Saturday morning you pick up a perfectly trained dog of your choice and go to the dog park and play Frisbee. Then the dog lies by your feet while you read the Sunday paper and Monday you drop him off on the way to work; the whole doggie experience without having to walk him after work all week.
So, like when a guy hires a hooker for the whole night because he wants the “girlfriend experience”?
What’s wrong with you?
#2 The Smart-aleck car
A handsome couple are driving along in a big ole rental car, when they come up on a wee Smart car. It’s a two person vehicle that looks like it was designed to be driven by the Burger King guy with the tiny hands.
Is that a Mini Hooper?
No, it’s not even a Mini Cooper; it’s a Smart car.
What’s so smart about it?
When it gets hit by an F150 that couldn’t see it, the driver is going to be saying, “Ooo that’s smarts!!!”
#3 I Want My Cable TV
A handsome couple are watching cable TV in their hotel room, a luxury they don’t afford themselves at home. The man briefly lights on MTV.
I used to have a thing for Martha Quinn back in the day.
Really? I always thought she was kinda nerdy.
No, she’s cute. She’s got that Under Dog kind of sweetness about her.
I bet she’s been under quite a few dogs!
What’s wrong with you?
September 2, 2009
There was a woman sitting in front of me; couldn’t see me, and to the best of my knowledge was unaware of my presence. That is until she turned around and started telling me her drama. Namely, that she had driven 20 hours to be here today to see her baby girl gadjiate, and if her baby girl’s bitch of a step-mother didn’t like it, well then she could just call the sheriff again, 'cause hell or high water she was seein’ her baby gadjiate from high school, cause believe it or not she herself never got to gadjiate 'cause she was busy havin' her baby girl’s little sister.
Frankly, this sort of thing happens to me a lot.
It’s like I am some sort of kook magnet, but eureka, Wayne has thought of way that I can work this special skill into a lucrative career path. And it would work something like this…
Employers, HR departments, or anyone needing to screen potential job applicants would pay me a consultant’s fee to sit in their waiting room and read a magazine. (Naturally they would supply all reading materials and coffee.) Any potential employee that struck up a conversation with me beyond a cursory hello, or are you finished with the paper, would be automatically disqualified for employment and depending on the amount of personal background indiscretions they divulged, escorted from the building by security.
You can easily see the time and cost savings that this service would afford any business.
And my special skill need not be limited to the private sector. Image the good I could do if I were working covertly for the government in airports. Why, I would simply wander the common areas minding my own business; anyone who sought me out, seemingly for no apparent reason and began to tell me why they thought that people who are possessed should be charged for an extra seat, or that their cat told them we are all going to die on this flight, would be subject, on my secret signal, to some very invasive screening before being allowed to fly.
Really, have you ever flown cross-country next to someone one who is telling you some really messed up shit? Wouldn’t you feel just a wee bit safer if you knew they had been super extra screened for hidden… well hidden anything?
I’m sure if I wanted to give it some thought I could come up with a whole pamphlet’s worth of circumstances why my kook-magnetism would benefit any number of people who wanted to make sure the person next to them in the elevator on a regular basis is not on the verge of “making everybody pay”! I could leave my little advertisements wherever normal people follow the etiquette of ignoring each other. They might read as follows:
Worried what the guy in the last cubical has in that bag he keeps in the breakroom fridge that has a small pad lock on it? One lunch period in your cafeteria and I can deliver you that information without the frustration and hassle of court orders. Call for a free estimate and package pricing.
Wondering why you only see your neighbor late at night and only at Wal-Mart when you’re there on a beer run, and if they see you they turn and duck into the restroom as soon as possible? Put your mind at ease knowing that I will find out what’s going on in that basement sans search warrant, hidden camera or expensive listening devise. Call now and receive a complimentary screening of your potential mother in law.
Wayne is right, I could make quite the business out of crack pots everywhere wanting to tell me their wacked out, messed up, creepy deal, whether I like it or not.
August 15, 2009
After a pouty little cry in the parking garage I headed home. I hadn’t yet reached the freeway when my phone rang; he had been bumped. Great; he got a free round-trip ticket and I got a few more hours with my… (Insert here a term of affection that you find really nauseating. I guarantee you it is not as saccharin as the one I use for my husband.)
So; killing time in the airport; it went something like this.
INT. AIRPORT RESTAURANT- DAY
At a bar inside of a chain type restaurant, a handsome distinguished couple order appetizers and a beer for the lady, from a prepubescent bar-keep.
A sign in the background reads - We card EVERYONE even our own Mothers.
(A slight squeak in his
Can I see your I.D. please Ma'am?
The woman not having seen the sign, is surprised by this, but obliges with a slight blush and a smile.
She proceeds to drag her formidable purse onto the bar. She opens it and removes what appears to be a stone tablet. She turns it to the bar-keep, and we see that the carvings on the tablet very much resemble that of a drivers license. The bar-keep leans in a bit to read the date of birth which says, April 27, B.C.
INT. AIRPORT BAR - LATER
A sports bar in the same airport. A server places beers in front of same couple as before, while the woman is shoving the stone tablet back in her purse.
The Man indicates a TV suspended behind his wife.
Burger King has the strangest
The wife turns to look at the TV, speaking as she turns
and spilling a little beer on her shirt.
Is this the one where the guy wakes
up to find the King standing over
him in bed?
No, but that one's even worse; The
King gives me the creeps!
INSERT TV SCREEN - BURGER KING COMMERCIAL
Two young men stand on a playing field across the street from a Burger King restaurant.
YOUNG MAN #1
Let's go to B.K. and get a
YOUNG MAN #2
Let's go to McDonalds.
YOUNG MAN #1
Why? B.K. is right there.
YOUNG MAN #2
I have these tiny hands and the
B.K. cheeseburger is so big it
makes them look even smaller.
Young man #2 pulls his hands from his hoody revealing that he does indeed have tiny hands.
YOUNG MAN #1
What if I held it for you?
BACK TO THE COUPLE IN THE BAR.
The man is looking at the TV as he shakes his head.
That is so gay.
Our best friends are gay dear, and
they don't go around holding each
The server delivers the wife another beer.
What if Burger King sold cheese
Then the guy could offer to hold his
buddy's cheesestick for him!
OK, that would be kinda gay.
INT. AIRPORT BOOKSTORE - LATER
The man peruses political books while the woman, who is a little buzzed, follows him around, pen perched over her red leather note pad.
What are you doing?
Waiting for you drop a couple of
pearls so I can write them down.
He gives her a quizzical look.
Beer makes you say some pretty
So you're going to follow me around
with a pen?
Beer makes me forget what you said.
Let's get some coffee.
The couple starts to exit the bookstore when a stunning blonde amazon strides in. She is wearing a polo shirt with an emblem on the front and the words K-9 Unit on the back.
Her cargo pants are tucked into army boots and she silently commands a large German Shepherd gracefully around the aisles.
Her long blonde ponytail sways across her back and she is smoking hot in a Sarah Connor sorta' way.
The woman sees her right away and pulls herself up straight; like a cat when another cat walks by. She follows this amazing amazon with her eyes, watching her every move. The woman runs into the back of her husband.
The husbands turns to face his wife and notices her staring at the amazon.
I want to be just like her when I
She's like 20 years younger than
The woman now turns and glares at her husband.
He begins to correct her grammar, then thinks better of it. The woman continues her visual assessment of the officer as she and her dog glide around the store in complete command, silently gaining every one's respectful distance.
I bet she could kick everybody in
here's ass twice, just by spinning
around and using that pony tail
like a saffron Nunchuck.
The woman turns to her husband.
What do you think?
That's not what most men would like to use
that pony tail for.
The woman looks pissed at first, but then takes her pen and begins to write down what her husband just said.
(As she writes)
Don't say anything else I'm out of
INT. AIRPORT - LATER
The woman exits the ladies room and takes a seat on a bench next to her husband who hands her a coffee.
Note to self - Beer plus Beer plus
Beer plus venti mocha, divided by
trips to the bathroom, equals me
pretty much just wanting to throw
these shoes away.
Is is that bad in there?
The couple settles in to people watch and are treated to quite a parade of characters, tourists, harried travelers.
An older woman comes into view, they notice her but do not stare. She is approximately four feet tall and about that in diameter. She is wearing pink and lots of it, and because of the brevity of her stride it takes her some time to pass by.
Good thing Randy Newman is not
The man grins despite himself.
Don't write that down!
August 11, 2009
Yesterday was dress up day at work. (Seriously!) They wanted everyone to wear formal business attire and exude a “dress for success” attitude.
Ok. I’m a TEAM player; I will participate in dress up day. Unfortunately the only the thing that fits right now is my black polyester going to a funeral suit that must be worn with my too tight church shoes that I normally only wear on Christmas and Easter.
It is August. I am in Florida. Can you say bad hair day?
I made an effort, I really did. I wanted to dress up and look pretty, but by the time I got to work, the AC had just begun to get the truck cooled off. The “feels like a hundred with the humidity heat index” had done quite a number on me and by the time I got into the building I looked like Little Orphan Annie after a couple of bad divorces.
It is August. I am in Florida.
August 10, 2009
The training class I am in has been indoctrinating us since day one with what is “HR.Appropriate” in the Work place. Basically everyone has the right to be offended. Well almost everyone, the rest of you know who you are. And everyone has the right to decide what is offensive, so you better be a freakin' mind reader before you open your mouth.
I have already been informed that I need to “filter” because I mentioned that I think I might have been a drag queen in a former life. I was asked my favorite movie; Connie and Carla. I gave a brief synopsis of the film and said I think I may have been a drag queen in in a past life. I left it at that, I made no mention of my penchant for sequins and boob glitter, and for this I was told I need to filter. In hind sight I would have thought people who were offended by Drag Queens would have been some of the people who were not allowed to be offended.
My new favorite movie is whatever training video we are being shown that day.
However, there is something that is offending me. I am not sure if it is permissible for me to be offended but I think I am covered in at least two categories so here goes.
The offending actions surround the policy regarding badges. We are required to wear badges with our picture on it, that when swiped by the door grants you access to the building, and again to various departments in the building. You know, if the door doesn’t open after you swipe your badge, you are not allowed in that department. It is clearly posted at most doors that badges must be worn where they can be seen and that you must not let anyone “piggy back” into a department with you. This means even if the door is open for you, the guy behind you must swipe his badge too. We are instructed to look at people’s badges and their faces and make sure the badge belongs to them.
Well, this is where I become offended.
Policy says badges must be worn where they can be clearly seen. I wear mine clipped onto my collar, right next to my face. The picture the security guard took of me is pretty offensive but you don’t get a second shot at it. You can see my face, move your eyes one inch and see my badge and easily see that I am who I am, despite that fact that the picture looks like it was taken during the throes of a seizure.
But I am the exception.
Most choose to wear their badges clipped to their belt. Current fashion dictates that most belts are at or below hip level versus the formerly practical waist level. The look is cute; I am not offended by that. Although some of you muffin toppers out there might want to rethink your choices, but who am I to judge.
And therein lies the rub. In order for me to be a good little worker bee and follow policy that is clearly stated backwards on my forehead, I am forced to bend over, and get a little too close to crotch level for my own comfort, so I can make sure you are not going to gain access to my department with someone else’s badge and go all postal.
Granted a lot of said badge wearers have faces that probably look a lot like their downstairs unit but, frankly I don’t want to know.
So, should I, the offensive past life Drag Queen, protest the lower level badge display? (Or for some of you should I say bargain basement badge display, you know who you are.) Should I take just a cursory glance south of the border and let anyone with a badge piggy back me into the bathroom. (Damn, now that did sound offensive!) Should I worry that someone may take offence that I lingered too long in my inspection of their badge? (This only happened one time and it was because my back was stiff and I had a hard time standing back up.)
I don’t know; conformist, rebel, who am I? Who are you? Do you wear your badge by your face, so that security may be preserved? Do you wear your badge on your belt as a proclamation to the world, “look at me I can tuck my shirt in, that makes me better than you.” Or, do you get your jollys by having co-workers go eye level with your button fly?
Tell you what. If you put your badge somewhere near your face, I will keep my boob glitter to myself.
PS. Regarding the upstairs fashions at work; I don't really want to see your boobs, but if it means I don't have to bend over, go ahead and stuff that badge right in between them, I won't be offended.
August 5, 2009
Wendy and I are aspiring screenwriters and have been working on a feature length family drama for nearly a full year. As we near completion on the project, we realize that our ability to tell the story ties into lessons we have learned in life. Some scenes are hard earned, some are based on sudden inspiration, and some rely on tried and true formulas that have been around as long as people have been telling stories.
That is where Blake comes in. Back in 2005, Blake Snyder wrote a wonderful book titled “Save the Cat”, a definitive guide to screenwriting which contained pearls of wisdom that apply not only to the writing process, but the thinking behind the writing and in many ways, life itself. We devoured the book and in a leap of faith often found only in the novice, we e-mailed Blake Snyder and shared some story ideas. His response back was timely, thoughtful and very caring. Obviously, in the business of Hollywood, he was someone who truly wanted to make a difference and he cared enough to nurture a couple of dreaming writers. Wendy and Blake corresponded several times and he was always gracious and helpful in his advice.
One of the key components that a successful story depends on is CHANGE. And Blake had a very clear understanding of the need for change and how it impacts the story, life itself and the concept of character.
What follows are Blake’s words:
"In a sense, stories are about change. And the measuring stick that tells us who succeeds and who doesn’t is seen in the ability to change. Good guys are those who willingly accept change and see it as a positive force. Bad guys are those who refuse to change, who will curl up and die in their own juices, unable to move out of the rut their lives represent. To succeed in life is to be able to transform. That’s why it’s the basis not only of good storytelling but also the world’s best known religions. Change is good because it represents re-birth, the promise of a fresh start…And don’t we all want to believe that?”
Think about the movies! As Blake points out in his book, doesn’t a good movie make you want to jump into life? Don’t we all want to get out of a rut, try something new, and be open to the power of change after experiencing a movie in which everybody changes?
As we progress in our journey of life, continuing to learn and grow; expanding upon the lessons learned by experience, I hope we will all ask ourselves; are we good guys or bad guys?
August 2, 2009
Long fingernails on men; words cannot express my revulsion. Speaking in generalities, think about what all men do with their hands… And all that is getting caught under their finger nails. The thought is too much for me to bear so I shall move on.
Long fingernails on women... Speaking in generalities, women are cleaner than men, and I still think long fingernails are gross. Especially those Frito Lay Scoops some women have glued onto their hands and then airbrushed with tacky designs. Now I know that I am probably pissing a few of you off right now, but I have seen some of you dig the remains of lunch out from under those acrylic talons and feast on it.
Pardon me while I barf.
Ok, I am back. So as I was saying; if you use your hands for just about anything, such as pumping gas, handling money, opening a door, or shaking hands with others, and then proceed to bulldoze food onto your fork using your pink and white backhoe, or lick a finger that has one of these germ catching shovels attached to the end of it, you may as well pick the next construction worker you see exiting the honey pot and lick his ass crack.
Now, if your fingers nails are short because you chew them off, regardless of whether or not you use your tongue to launch the gnawed off keratin projectile into the general public, you’re still gross.
August 1, 2009
OOOH David Cassidy…(Lead singer, Rolling Stone.)
OOOOH Shaun Cassidy (Hardy Boy, Nancy Drew marauder.)
A few years later you were working for the weekend, just so you could stay out late at the Disco, Danceteria, or clubbing. Well, those days are gone for me; at least for now.
I have a new job. This is a good thing. I have to work until 2am. That’s a bad thing. I get 15% shift differential for working past midnight. That’s a really good thing.
I have been there three weeks and my manager keeps telling all us newbies, “Don’t worry, it gets easier, just stay on your regular schedule over the weekend and then Monday night won’t be so hard on you.”
Does that sound familiar to you? Remember when you were a kid and your mom was always telling to you go to bed or you would be tired the next day. Even on Friday and Saturday nights she wouldn’t let you stay up too late.
Well, I ain’t a kid no more and it’s Saturday night and I am going to bed at 10 o’clock if I want to. I might even go to bed at 9, what are you gonna do about it?
July 28, 2009
Last month we stayed in a hotel room that looked like a crime scene. Seriously it was gross. They did not even give us shampoo or soap, but oddly enough there was plenty of lotion.
What can you do: you’ve flown all morning, drove an hour, unloaded the luggage and they have your credit card number. So you bolt the door, hope like hell that that stain is coffee, like a whole pot’s worth, or ketchup, two to three bottles worth, and try to get 6 hours sleep without touching any parts of the bed that aren’t covered by what appears to be clean sheets.
Last weekend I stayed in a much cleaner hotel. At least the room was clean; the occupants…
I drove my mom to Georgia where we met up with my sister so she could take mom back home to Ohio. My sister is a church going good girl and brought one of her church friends along for the ride. The four of us shared the room as it was only for one night and mom and I agreed to watch our language in front of the friend.
Last Christmas my other sister, who hasn’t seen the inside of a church since they threw her out of her third Catholic high school for doing non-Catholicy type stuff, gave mom a hand held massager. However, she thought it would be cute to call it a vibrator and so mom now refers to it as such. Once mom gets something in her head, IT IS THERE FOREVER!
INTERIOR- HOTEL ROOM-NIGHT
Two sisters, their Mother and one of the sister’s friends chat while reading for bed.
Good Sister: Thank the Lord we all made it here safely.
Friend: Jesus does watch out for us.
Mother: Will it bother anybody if I use my vibrator?
Which leads me to my point; have you noticed how the meaning of perfectly innocent little words can get askew with time?
Recently my niece reports being embarrassed almost to the point of extinction by yet another sister of mine.
A middle age mother and her daughter are waiting to order breakfast. The daughter is tired from partying the night before.
Daughter: Where is that server, could somebody please coffee me now!
Finally the server approaches the table.
Server: Hi what can I do for you today?
Middle aged Mother: Coffee for her and you can tea bag me.
And lastly the most innocent word of all; Mother. Well, at least it used to be.
Sometime ago while working in a store I was required to make announcements regarding specials. It was mothers’ day and we had a special deal for anyone who was willing to come to the front of the store.
A haggard, but trying oh so hard to make the best of it, assistant manager of a bank with-in a store makes her way to the P.A. system.
Assistant Manager: Attention shoppers today we are offering a package for those who qualify, so why don’t all you Wal-Mart mothers make your way to the front to see what you can get.
Don’t even get me started on the word package.
July 20, 2009
One day when my parents were first married my dad brought home shrimp, which was a big deal back then with their very limited budget. After becoming frustrated with my mom’s refusals to just try it once, Dad yelled at her, “… if you’re not gonna put it in your mouth, just try putting your tongue on the end of it and see if you like it!” Imagine Gladys Kravitz getting a load of that one.
I recently got a job. It’s a good thing because I was running out of office supplies at home.
The last hotel room we stayed in looked like a crime scene. Seriously it was gross, and they did not even give us shampoo or soap. Oddly enough there was plenty of lotion.
June 4, 2009
I would love to get caught up with you guys. I have talked to your sister here and there over the years, but you’re right, it has been at least 25 years since I saw you or your brother. So here goes.
The day after high school, I pretty much didn’t do anything. Just sat around and wondered “uh, ok now what?” The next day the same and the day after that Mom said “… if you’re not going to college you gotta get a job and pay rent”
A reasonable request don’t you think?
Not too long after that I got an apartment with a friend. Spent my twenties and thirties:
moving to apartments, back to Mom’s, new apartments, changing roommates, changing jobs, losing weight, gaining weight, gaining and losing boyfriends, had a dog I still love, (his ashes are in a box in the garage, can’t bring myself to deal with them and he has been dead 10 years), had two cats I loved but have passed, a couple of fish but the cat ate the beta, kept a job working with retarded adults for nine years, spent my retirement savings from that job to open an art shop in German Village, (the last time I saw your mom was when your parents came to the grand opening, pretty cool of them I thought), drove my mom to California to see the Price is Right, had a tee shirt made that read “Bob Barker is the Sexiest Man Alive” still didn’t get picked to be on stage, moved in with my sister stayed there 5 years, met Wayne, my husband and the one I was waiting for all those years, moved to Florida with him after only 6 months of dating, sometimes you just know, we knew and we went for it, 2 and half years later we got engaged, I had a hard time convincing him that if we got married I would not turn into his ex-wife, she really beat him up, 11 months after getting engaged we got married in Ohio, your sister and your dad were there, I got so drunk we did not consummate the marriage for 2 days. (is that tooooo much info?) one day after quitting my 3rd job in banking, ( I was the assistant manager of a bank, only the branch was inside of a Wal-Mart so can you blame me?) Wayne says to me, why don’t you quit taking jobs you hate and do what you love? “But I like writing and I have only one year of college from Columbus State when I was like 29 years old...” “ So?” he says. So, I started writing, it took a year of experimenting before settling on writing screenplays. (Did several children’s books and worked on an auto biography and a sitcom pilot) I have completed one script and Wayne and I are working on an Oscar winner together. Wayne’s job sent him to Seattle for four months and I went with him.
So this year I have worked harder than ever but haven’t been paid a dime yet. I forgot to stop spending money when I quit working so I am going to have to get a little something that pays till we sell a screenplay.
Wayne: He is the best man I have ever known, he totally believes in me and encourages me to be my best. We were introduced by a good friend of mine who was also a great friend of his; she was Wayne’s best “man” when we married. (I was old when I married my prince charming but that kinda beats settling for less just so you could get married while you’re still young enough to drink at your reception and not be sick for two days)
He has 2 daughters 17 and 19 that live with their mother in NY. Beautiful girls that are as smart as he is.
So we are in our home now and working on whatever is next. We are sort of maybe considering moving to LA area but only for a few years. If Wayne had his way we would live in Sonoma, I really liked Seattle, but am not sure where I want the forever house to be. We do know that we want to have a cabin in Ohio for summers and holidays visits with the herd back there. No matter where we live, as long as we are together we are home.
So… what’s up with you?
May 19, 2009
The night before the 15Th anniversary of my 29Th birthday, Wayne took me to Snoqualmie Casino in Washington. On Sunday nights they have Rockaraoke. You get to sing with a real live band, complete with backup singers, long haired guitar players, beret sporting key board player and a rockin drummer.
It was a far far greater thing than I have ever done.
Since sometime in the seventies I have been singing Journey songs; badly. Yet I dreamed of the day when I could sing one with a real live band. I also dreamed many many naughty things about Steve Perry, but that is not for today.
And then on the eve of my 44Th birthday, Wayne, the real man of my dreams made my rock and roll fantasy come true, by waiting through two hours of singers, some worse than me, till it was my turn.
I sang “Don’t Stop Believin’”, badly, live on stage with a rock and roll band, and a karaoke prompter. Though I have been singing these songs forever, it took seven Mac & Jacks to work up the nerve to go on stage, and I may have sneaked a peak or two at the words.
It was so much fun; I don’t think I can ever karaoke again, because it would be such a letdown after that. I didn’t sing well, but I sang loud and I sold it all the way home. The crowd cheered when they heard the opening of the song and they danced and sang along and applauded when I was done. It was awesome.
You may be wondering if my rock and roll dream of singing with a band was somewhat sullied because it was karaoke. I mean in a way you're paying the band to back you up and isn't that kind of like having sex with a prostitute?
May 15, 2009
Emma, Gwynne and Mandy are at their weekly weight loss club, "Flab U Less", when it's Mandy's turn to weigh in. Turns out her friends aren't as excited about her big loss as Mandy is.
May 13, 2009
May 8, 2009
Remember when I told you about how I was Crushin on Captain Kirk?
Well I still am, only now it has been bumped up a notch or ten. Thanks to great writing, (Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman) directing, (J.J. Abrams) and not to mention acting.
What can I say; thanks to Chris, I am now Pine-ing for Kirk.
I first mentioned Chris here when I reviewed Bottle Shock, which was a good movie about our favorite thing, wine. Now that he has portrayed one of my favorite childhood loves, and done it well, I like him even more.
Other preformances included Zachary Quinto as Spock. You may reconize him from the TV show Heroes, Simon Pegg as Scotty, and John Cho as Sulu. It's like a nerdy smorgasboard of yummy.
I don't know if Wayne has brought out the nerd lover in me, or if it was always there hiding, waiting for me to quit trying to be kool, but out it has come, my closet desire for all things nerdy, and it is making up for lost time. (This week we also saw Wolverine, and then rented the first X-Men movie again so we could check out continuity.)
However, nerd or no, if you like action, hot guys, or pretty girls, (Lt. Uhura), you'll like Star Trek.
For those of you who don't like the film, check out this report.
May 5, 2009
Since first meeting the Miller brothers last November at a Florida film festival, we have been fans. Following their career distantly via websites, newspaper clippings, interviews and a couple of hurriedly exchanged e-mails, we have watched the progress of both their film, Touching Home, and this highly anticipated book.
It would be a mistake for anyone to read this book as only the retelling of the trials and tribulations of first time film-makers. Or, as a how-to or how-not-to book of writing, producing, directing and starring in a fictionalized version of your life story. Many readers will unfortunately take that approach and thereby miss the true heart of the book.
As you delve into Either You're In or You're In The Way, you begin to realize that Logan and Noah Miller are taking you on a journey. A journey that begins with the love that the twin brothers have for their alcoholic father and continues with them seeking closure following his death by succesfully telling their story on-screen. The story is bittersweet, with alternating moments of hilarity, tension, and heartbreak, but through it all the bros keep their focus on the ultimate goal and press forward with passion, heart, and dogged determination.
Ultimately though, this story is about much more than two brothers trying to acheive their dream. It is about refusing to accept anything other than solutions to problems. It is about dealing with the micro by understanding the macro. It is about an unerring commitment to quality and not accepting anything less. It is a manifesto on how to live life on your own terms and stay true to your values.
Much like Scratch Beginnings, another offering from HarperCollins Publishers last year, Either You're In or You're In The Way should be required reading for every high school student in the country. Although vastly different in scope and purpose, both books remind us that the American Dream is alive and well.
As Logan and Noah Miller put it so well, somewhere around page 195, "To those who no longer believe in the American Dream, read this, and say otherwise".
April 21, 2009
It's Sex in the City meets Weight Watchers... kinda! A girlfriend comedy about three friends (two women and a "man") and their martini hampered efforts to lose weight, understand men, find THE dress, and overcome parents and salesgirls to get Emma and Logan down the aisle. Emma an extra curvy redhead, with a little help from her friends; Gwynne a snarky semi-drag queen and Mandy a philosophical dumb blond, is the glue that holds this trio together.The actors performed an abridged version, twenty minutes in length, that focused on only one aspect of the screenplay, buying a wedding dress. For a look at their work check out all three parts at http://www.youtube.com/moviesbymoss
Full credits can be seen at the end of part 3.
All this depends on me being able to keep Wayne from pitching it. The other day at the store he tried to buy me a new lemon, he said it could be the body double.
April 13, 2009
created and performed by
directed by Tony Taccone
April 2 – May 3, 2009
Seeing Carrie Fisher's one woman show has been one of the highlights of our time here in Seattle. Her sense of humor and comic timing had me laughing, snorting, jiggling, elbowing Wayne, dabbing mascara, slapping my knee and wanting more.
You know, for self proclaimed white trash, with ties to hollywood inbreeding, (sort of) Ms. Fisher is a pretty sharp cookie. You've got to be smart to be that funny, and you've got to be funny to go through what she has and come out the other end in one piece. But I'll let her tell you about that, so if you can't get to the show, check out the book Wishful Drinking, it's good stuff.
April 8, 2009
A Farce by A. R. Gurney
(April 10 - April 26, 2009)
Greg and Kate have moved to Manhattan after twenty-two years of child raising in the suburbs. Greg’s career is winding down while Kate’s career begins to offer her more opportunities. Greg brings home a dog he found in the park (the dog really finds Greg) with only the name Sylvia on the dog tag. She’s street smart (Sylvia – not Kate) and she quickly becomes a bone of contention between Greg and Kate. To Kate, Sylvia becomes a rival for affection. And Sylvia thinks Kate just doesn’t understand the relationship between a man and his dog. Come see this audience pleaser.
Friday/Saturday (8:00 p.m) 4/10-11, 4/17-18, 4/24-25
Thursday (7:30 p.m.) 4/16
Sunday (2:00 p.m.) 4/26
Call the VCP Office at 425-226-5190 for further information and ticket purchase.
April 7, 2009
April 1, 2009
Wayne ordered some very high-end single-malt scotch. I was undecided so I said make it two. I know I don’t like scotch but apparently I find the good stuff particularly offensive. This $13 glass of hooch tasted more like hind end than high-end to this girl.
“Do they filter this through a pig’s ass that has been rolling in the mud?” I mused.
But Wayne loved it. He conversed with Rick on how long it was aged in peat smoked barrels, and how it reminded him of another dirt flavored spirit he previously enjoyed at The Rose & Crown Pub in Epcot. (Dirt flavored may be more my words than his; I can’t remember.)
So I drank some water and ordered a rum and diet.
The water: The water here in Seattle tastes great to me; unfiltered right out of the tap. Keep in mind I most recently come from a small town in central Florida. The town is starting to get big city, last year we got a Wal-Mart, but there is still not a lot going on unless you drive to Orlando or Daytona. Anyway, the water there, and most of Florida as far as I can tell, tastes like sea shells and alligator piss.
The rum and diet: It didn’t taste right so the next round I ordered a Bacardi and diet. Rick said the first one was Barcardi. Note to self… Limes taste better in Florida.
I don’t know?
Wayne has a much more sophisticated palate than I. That may be why he is always watching the food network looking for new way to prepare meals. Yeah that’s it; nothing to do with the chefs like Giada De Laurentiis.
I told him once, “I don’t what you see in that Gelato chick.”
“Her name is Giada, not gelato,” he protested, “but I bet she is kind of velvety on the tongue.”
Whatever! Can’t we just watch Paula Deen?
March 31, 2009
March 23, 2009
The trip there and back took about 2 and half hours, most of which was spent waiting on the two bus transfers needed to complete the journey; in the rain.
Did I mention that while spring may have sprung over the weekend, today was sooo Monday and winter just wanted me to know it’s not done yet?
I still love our Seattle adventure. I just couldn’t help thinking about my fully operational, paid for, insured car, sitting in the driveway of our 3 bedroom, two bath house in Florida, where it was about eighty degrees today, and sunny. Florida is always sunny!
But I ain’t mad, I was just thinking about it is all.
March 19, 2009
One time when I was 19 I decided I had eaten enough to last me a while so I stopped. I ate very little, mostly popcorn and Buddig lunch meat, for the next 3 years.
I got skinny, and I got boyfriends, both of which I had never had before. Unless you count the life size poster of Shawn Cassidy I had on my bedroom wall that I kissed nightly before bed. Or you the count the boy I went to the prom with, who was totally my boyfriend in my head but his girlfriend, who was also my girlfriend disagreed.
And no, she was not my girlfriend like she was his girlfriend. I did not even know about that kind of stuff yet, which may have been part of the reason why I did not have a boyfriend.
What I am trying to get to is, that while I looked pretty smoking hot, I was weak from hunger and not as cognitively correct as usual, hence some of my choices when it came to picking boyfriends. Hell, I did not even know yet there would be choices when I picked this one.
The guy wasn’t all bad; he did take me to Key West and buy us matching tee shirts. We were just not a match so I broke up with him. I was so proud of myself for doing it, but as soon as I found out he had another girlfriend, of course I wanted him back.
Thank Gawd he didn’t take me back! What if we had gotten married, god forbid, and then he might never have left Ohio and gone on to star in Reno 911.
At least I think that’s what he did after we broke up.
On the Season Premiere of RENO 911! April 1 at 10:30p/9:30c Did the Reno Deputies survive their horrible taco stand accident? Find out what happened
March 18, 2009
My usual routine for flying is: 1 pill, 2 jacks, 1 trashy magazine, cough drops, gum, tissues and my lucky traveling necklace. However, I am getting more tolerant of flying and therefore need not be quite as sedated as usual, so this time I added a book.
I choose THE PICKER WHO PERISHED, A TOO GOOD TO BE THREW CONSIGNMENT SHOP MYSTERY, BY KATE HOLMES, a former employer of mine.
Kate has written books containing everything you need to know on consignment shops. In Picker she has used her vast knowledge of the industry to pen a mystery built around Wendy Sam, resale store owner, and the murder of her good friend and consigner Ilene.
Set in Sarasota; Kate’s descriptions of the area and the local people give you a feel for the town and old Florida. With our possible move to Seattle looming, the book made me long for Florida and all that we have yet to do there.
But the best part of the book is the characters. Wendy Sam is a strong independent woman, with caring loyal friends and employees, who would be a catch for any man… if she would just let him.
When one of Wendy Sam’s Monday-night girl-bonding clique is found dead, she is compelled to find out why a young agile ex-dancer could inexplicably fall down her own stairs. Ruled an accident by the police, Wendy Sam sets out to prove her friend was killed and why, even if it means breaking the bond with one of the other girls, who may know more than we think.
Our heroine finds the truth despite danger to herself and her heart, which is endanger of being stolen by Tom, the cop who wants to protect her but does not believe that her friend Ilene’s death was murder.
So even if you’re not flying anytime soon, pick up a copy of the PICKER WHO PERISHED, and find out if Ilene was murdered or slipped, and if Wendy Sam finds love. I can't wait for Wendy Sam's next adventure, with her friends by her side.
February 26, 2009
February 22, 2009
Because I don’t always manage to clean up before they get here they have seen the contents of my “make up” bag strewn across the counter in the bathroom.
And they know that I am losing hair like crazy; not Rogaine losing hair, but not, oh la di da I am 22 and my hair is so thick I can’t close the banana clip. If you’re old enough to know what a banana clip is your hair is probably falling out a little too.
Makes a damn mess doesn’t it? Especially if you’re trying to grow out your layers and it is getting a little long… thin but long and it clogs the hell out of the sink as it escapes your crown, floating down into the drain trap where it teams with toothpaste to form an impenetrable clog.
BTW; what feels more like a spider crawling down your vulnerable nakedness in a spot you can’t reach than a spider? Dyed to a crisp, thin, fragile hair, escaping your head one at a time and slinky-ing their way down your back!
So housekeeping knows I’m losing my hair. They know that one hair can be up to 3 different colors depending on its length and how many processes it has been through when it made its departure from my scalp. They know what I read, eat, do to towels and sheets that I don’t have to wash myself and they know that there is more than makeup in my “makeup” bag…
February 21, 2009
February 20, 2009
February 19, 2009
That’s what I said to Jane as she was signing my copy of her new album, “the lovers, the dreamers, and me”. I truly meant it as a compliment, but in the light of day, I can see why she might not have thought it was that funny.
Her new CD includes a cover of “Rainbow Connection” (Kermit… get it?”) and when she ended up her opening night at the Jazz Alley last Tuesday by singing it and then going straight into Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I could barely hold back the tears. Yes I am a sentimental ole gal, but Jane’s voice would move you if you were made of stone and she was singing the phone book. And it wasn’t the wine either, because her opening number got me too.
We were seated about ten feet from Jane and her wonderful band, which includes her husband on drums, as they performed. And while we weren’t familiar yet with the songs from the new album, we enjoyed every number and were also treated to some tunes that did not make it onto the disc. Jane used an expression during the show that for me summed up her performance. A- maze-ing… three words.
And it wasn’t just her pipey, sultry voice, but also the stylings of her band including solos by Michael Kanan on piano, Neal Miner on bass, and Rick Montalbano on drums. A couple of years ago, Wayne got me one of Jane’s albums for Christmas, I had not heard of her at the time, but have liked her ever since.
The whole experience made for a great night. A real jazz club in a real city was wow. The sound in Jazz Alley is awesome and makes up for the not perfect food. My salad was lame and Wayne swears his mashed potatoes were instant or at least tasted like it, but the staff was great and our server was a good guy. And the food did not take away from the great music and atmosphere of the club. Where else can you sit so close, enjoying your wine and listening to someone so talented sing and talk to the audience.
Below is a clip from a few years back that features Jane and another of my favorites, Michael Buble. Enjoy.
February 11, 2009
February 10, 2009
Uncle Mo's, good bar food, and Karaoke, works for me.
Whistle Stop, good food, wine and beer, friendly bar tender, and a half wall that separates the kid area, good idea!
February 6, 2009
The morning we were flying out of Florida, I did one last perimeter check on the house to make sure all was well before the house sitter got there. On our lemon tree I found one lone lemon hiding in the leaves. I picked it and put it in my purse. It made it here to Seattle and has been showing up at famous places...
January 13th through January 26th
February 5, 2009
I didn’t pack any moisturizer because I haven’t used it anywhere but my crows feet in six, almost seven years, and the hotel gives you little bottles for free. This is a great hotel but the free moisturizer has this minty-ness to it, and although it is kind of light, don’t get it in the wrong spot if you know what I'm saying. Like I said, I know it ain’t Tuesday; but what the hell.
So… let me start over so I can tell you what I’m going to tell you.
Hotel sex is great!!! Yeah you know it, do what you want to those sheets, it’s all good.
The bad part: I don’t want to be as vibrantly vocal as I sometimes am. After all, we have at least two and half months left to go in this hotel and I would rather not have the staff stop calling us Mrs. Wendy and Mr. Wayne when we walk through the lobby, and start calling us Daddy and the gymnast. (Ok, I wouldn’t mind that, but Wayne would frown.)
So here’s what I’m trying to tell you:
Last night while watching cable TV, which we don’t have at home so that is a treat, Wayne is into some show called the L-Word, I haven’t seen it but he seems to like to watch it every time it’s on even if it’s a re-run, but I digress. We were watching Dirty Things I wouldn’t Do, or Jobs I wouldn’t Do or Dirty Jobs, whatever it’s called, and I stretched out and put my feet up on Wayne’s lap.
What follows is reason number elevendy hundred and three why I love Wayne; he started scratching my leg. And then he reached under my sock, (wearing socks is another thing I have not done in almost seven years) and scratched my ankle.
“OH YEAH, THAT’S THE ITCHY FUCKING SPOT!!!”
I didn’t mean to yell, it just felt so damn good. I know anyone in the hotel, hotel parking lot and the hotel next door heard me. Maybe they heard me in Tacoma, I don’t know, but I just couldn’t help it. Wayne’s not happy though; hurt that during his Saturday night special I didn’t make a peep, but his Wednesday ankle scratch made me HOLLA, he has threatened sanctions unless I get my oral approvals more accurately timed. Maybe he’s afraid that one of the great restaurants in the Seattle area will cause me to all "When Harry Met Sally" over my entrée.
February 4, 2009
It had been about 20 years since I last rode the bus, and that was in Columbus Ohio, in the winter, in the dark, I missed my transfer to the last bus of the day and it SUCKED.
“As God is my witness I will never ride the bus again!” I proclaimed while standing ass deep in melty wet snow waiting for my sister to pick me up, when she got damn well ready to pick me up. But how could I know that one day I would be in Seattle for 3 months with no car and my choices would be one more day in the hotel or take the freaking bus somewhere, anywhere.
So I did my research, collected route pamphlets, cross checked with the King County online trip planner, had the hotel shuttle take me to the bus stop and ventured on board.
20 years later or no, I guessed the rules couldn’t have changed that much; keep your head down, your hands within your own seat area and avoid the guy who is talking to himself. Oh, and if you know what’s good for you, you better have correct change or you will get booed like Bush at a lesbian rally. (That’s George W. of course.)
One more thing; these days, correct change means breaking a five before you get on the bus not breaking a one like when I was a regular rider.
All went well on my adventure, save for garlic man in front of me. Wow he was an olfactory offence I won’t soon forget. But even his super stench couldn’t take away the awe of coming up over a hill and seeing MT Rainer in the distance. Most days have been cloudy, our hotel is in a valley and I haven’t got to see it that much. It’s just surprising to be riding along behind stink man, watching a Wal-Mart roll by the window and then suddenly you look out the other window and there is MT Rainer’s snowy top jutting up into the sky.
It seems like when you see something as beautiful as that you ought to be in a better place than on a bus. I mean there should not even be a Wal-Mart anywhere that you can see it and something so majestic at the same time. I don’t know… when we first moved to Florida, I couldn’t believe there were palm trees outside of a Wal-Mart, I guess you get used to it, but I can’t imagine getting passé about seeing that mountain while hauling TP and canned goods out of the store.
It didn’t take long to get to my destination, but I had earned myself a little treat. I purchased post cards, found a little spot and proceeded to fill them out while enjoying a little Jack and diet. Yummy. Did you know that drinking Jack while you’re writing makes you just as chatty as when you’re talking? I had to send one person two postcards just so I could finish my thought.
For my next trip, I am planning on going downtown. I am such the explorer! If Dora drank Jack, we’d be twins.