Tuesday, December 7, 2010

this may make me unpopular

BUT, I must get this off my chest. I am so sick of hearing things that drive me crazy, things that are not factual but based in green eco-friendly myth... so this is just one side of a multi-faceted problem we have today. And, please, let me know what you think.

Ever wonder where the economy went? Try looking in your recycle bin

A friend on facebook recently told everyone to take their name off as many catalog mail lists as they can- to save the trees...

Myth- by not printing a catalog you save a tree... false. This is down right stupid and it drives me nuts. Listen, I am pro-environment, I am but this is just bullshit. Actually, there are logging laws. You cannot import trees/pulp into the US without documentation and paper trails. In fact, there are now multiple organizations that do just that- research the hell out of where the trees come from. Mills own huge forests that they log and turn into pulp. They then re-grow these forests. So, actually there is no tree saved. People in America aren't out tearing out rain forests so you can get your Pottery Barn catalog. And, recycled paper sometimes isn't as healthy for the environment (think chemicals) as it is to grow a tree and cut it down and replace it with another tree. I know, we want to be sentimental about the trees but here is what we are NOT sentimental about- the jobs. Do you know how many people are, or should I say were, employed in the paper, print, and distribution industries? Thousands have lost jobs in the last year... that is right ONE year. Think about your local mailman who is about to lose his job or have his pension cut. Think about all the mills that have gone out of business, printers laying off workers and it trickles down to catalog companies hiring less people to answer calls, and less designers needed to lay out pages, and trucking companies not hauling loads which goes to people not having jobs at local malls. These people who you say are not necessary are incredibly valuable to us, they are part of our economy PEOPLE. These are the people buying houses, cars, groceries, eating at restaurants, shopping, IN YOUR TOWN. But, we DO have nice shiny smart phones and apple products... made OVERSEAS. It's not about a carbon footprint. Do you know most printing companies capture their exhaust and use them to supplement heat their plants? So, it is not like there are these huge puffs of smoke going out into the atmosphere... it's just not so.

Itunes.. ever talk to a song writer about how he/she gets paid? Ask them how fast they get a check from itunes. Ask them if they think the check is accurate? Oh, yeah, let's not forget that we have done away with all the record stores, no body wants them right. What about the people who sold them or the companies that made them, made the packaging, etc. Sure, an ipod is convenient and it is conveniently made in... google it it rhymes with SHINE-Ah. I am not hating on the Chinese but we have to realize every decision we make effects our own pockets or gives to someone else's. Why is it we are in such a hurry to ship jobs out when we desperately need them at home?

And then there were books... don't even get me started. I appreciate an e-reader, I really do. But I love the smell of a book. So there are no more book stores, well there are the mega brand stores that mostly sell more $5 coffees than books now, and certainly no locally owned book stores. Again, no one printing the books, shipping the books, etc. I feel so green- I saved a tree, we didn't use the gas to ship it! Nope, we gave that away again to another country and laid off thousands of workers. Think there is no carbon footprint in shipping from China to US? Think there aren't serious labor issues in China? THINK AGAIN- and keep supporting that but you save a damn tree, make that a theoretical tree. WE have to protect OUR planet but WE have to be smart. I am so sick of people jumping on band wagons and not thinking about any consequence.

Yes, technology is a good thing. No, it is not the devil, but let's think about it. We are a nation that makes NOTHING. I think this is our problem. Our economy flew out the window... no ma'am it did not. We gave it away. We couldn't wait to sell it off. So now what do you do? Make an app for a $1? Like for instance, does ANYBODY write a letter anymore? Is the art of the love letter now an email or a sext? And, I really freaking hate text messages. We don't talk anymore, we prefer to text.

It just really bothers me that so many people are unemployed and we make nothing as a country. Unlike paper, you cannot recycle our economy. I am all about being green but I think we need to think about if we ARE actually being green or if we are being e-friendly. The two are confused. Someone tell me how you recycle an ipod? An old laptop? Sure you can but there are environmental risk factors there, too. And how many old devices do you have? We need to figure out how to do that better than add plastic and LED screens to dump piles- because that stuff is more toxic than OLD PAPER ever was!!

To conclude, because you are sick of my rant and hopefully getting the point... I think the only way we are going to get the economy fixed is to make something (a product) and employ people. So, please put down your iphone and think about that for a minute. That's all I ask...

Monday, November 22, 2010

christians and turkeys

why are all the good Christian's trying to rush this here holiday season? I mean, half of my neighbors in the trailer park already have had a wreath up for 2 weeks on they doors. I mean, dern, people it ain't even Turkey day yet. I love Jesus and I hope to the sweet lawd he love me back honey because I have done something I ain't so proud of... but lights, bows, ribbons already? Not til after Turkey time! I mean we don't throw out a jack-o-latern immediately after we put up our big ass flags do we? I have a designated week for my pilgrim salt ad pepper shakers to earn their keep and how ridiculous does it look for me to put up my inflatable corn-o-cupia on the front yard when Claire has damn wreaths with bows and lights in trees. It looks like Opryland over there and I am just pulling out my shoes with the buckles on them and my festive turkey sweater.

And speaking of the turkey- please do not get me wrong- I have never been one to pass up a dessert table. This is the best damn holiday. No gift stress, no forgiveness, no telling somebody you may or may not love them as much as you did once before. This is all about eatin' and eatin' good. I love a holiday where you know it's time to stop because you feel sick or you might actually blow out your spanx. Eat til you cant' take another casserole bight honey child.

More importantly... a little secret to help you with the guilt and the glutony... I have never been scared of a lipo doctor- they do really have the magic wand. So, I say honey child, you best get you some seconds just make sure you got a part time job or some something-something left over in that Christmas Cash account you got secret stowed down at the credit union. Because if you pass up a second plate... the terrorists have won.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

regrets: I've had a few

Oh kiddies,
Mama is so sorry. I feel, once again, like I left you locked in the car with the windows cracked at Wal-marts while I was buying my econo-mega pack of Marlboros. Truth is, I've been busier than a one legged man in a butt kickin contest. I've been working hard for the money like Donna Summer. But that is no excuse. Things, they are a changing in mommas life- whether she likes it or not. I will keep you informed but for now know this:

I never meant to leave you.
I never felt the need for travel, but travel had the need for me.
The loney road is a body guard if you really want it to be.

In the meantime find some happiness wherever you are. Maybe it's the smell of fall or the color of the leafs. For me, it's the bottom of this damn bag of halloween candy I hid from them ingrates neighbor kids. Will be in touch, and if you need me, you know where to find me.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

the here and the now

you know, when you are younger you spend a lot of time dreaming. What will I be when I grow up? Where will I go to school? Where will I live? I am so guilty of that- way too many hours thinking about things that really don't matter.
- What did that comment, really, mean?
- Did she say that to me or for me?
- Am I going to get laid off?
- Will he call?

It is time to stop wondering and dreaming and start doing. I am making a pact to shut up and put up. The only things I am going to start asking my self are:
- Will this stain come out?
- Is this going to leave a permanent mark?
- Are there any cameras?
- Will this clear my checking account?

That is it. It is time to start living and stop dreaming. I hope that this inspires you the way I feel inspired. Of course, I am writing you on pain medication because I broke my damn foot. So, I am not going to start to tango after this post, but in my head I might be tango-ing right now.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

well, good morn-ting to you

So, Mama has been on the road. I swear my life has turned into that movie UP IN THE AIR with George Clooney, minus the sexiness. No, sadly, I have no affairs in my road trippin.

But I thought I would die this very morning. I decided I should go downstairs to the lobby and work out. Only all the machines were taken at 630am by the really fit people. I am not so fit, just guilted by the pasta and decadent chocolate cake i ate last night. So, I give up and did some stretches. I discovered, am also not limber and feared I had split my pants.

So, I gave up and went to the pantry to check out the breakfast selections. I settled on a diet coke and a pack of Big Red for breakfast. When I got back upstairs to room 1501- I put my key in the door.... nothing. Well, damn it I have to go all the way back downstairs? No ma'am. Try it again, and again and cuss a little. That always helps.

Suddenly, a rather irritated lady opens the door wearing a teeshirt that is down past her thighs. "Can I help you?" she looks at me with a stern look as though she might just beat the shit out of me right there in the hotel lobby. I realize I only have diet coke bottle to protect myself and say, " oh, well good morning. I guess this is your wake up call. Sorry, 3 hotel rooms in 3 days, I must be lost. Have a blessed day.." and the door slams.

Yes, I said have a blessed day? WTF? I don't bless people. Am not pope. Am non pope-ish. Am not Catholic. Turns out I am in room 220. Room 1501 was the night before. whoops

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

my apologies

now listen, your mother regrets... and I rarely say I am sorry first... I have neglected you kids. I have done treated you bad, I didn't pay you enough attention. It's the emotional equivalent of locking you in the parking lot at Wal-mart with the windows cracked on a hot August day. I, sincerely regret it. You see, and this is no excuse, Mama has been working like an immigrant in a nail salon, like a child in a sweat shop, like Melanie Griffin in that movie WORKING GIRL. I have been to more than 10 cities this month. I've been turning tricks like Tiger woods.

But, I will tell you what I have brought back a few pearls from all my travels...
1) People are at their absolute worst in the airports
2) It's a moral sin and character flaw to cut line while exiting a plane. Wait your damn turn, I am stuck in the damn toy poodle size seat
3) Never, ever, recline your seat in coach unless that damn flight is longer than 2 hours it's just rude
4) Rental cars are probably less clean than public toilets
5) Approach a self flushing toilet with caution
6) Flight attendants don't like to be called air mattress even in a joking manner
7) Chain restaurants are comforting, like the way they give you gas and indigestion all night but are familiar
8) Chinese buffet is never a good idea in a strip mall near the airport
9) Tip the house keeper or she might use your toothbrush in the toilet bowl
10) Does it break your jaw to say please and thank you to people?

And now a bonus: Why do so many people build houses that look like olive gardens?

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

sweatin' to the old me

So, it is true, I do be up in the gym working on my fitness as the great philosopher Fergie, Ferg says. Of course, she peed her pants on stage, so I feel especially kindred to her. Having been mistaken for a drag queen before, it's important I work on my girlish figure. Hey, it was the 70s, everyone wore too much eye makeup and I may have been fond of my shoulder pads which made me look even more the linebacker. All the same, i'm tryin damn it.

So, I don't get why the hell they put so damn many mirrors in the YWCA. I know you need to watch yourself curl. But I do not, repeat NOT, need to watch myself run. It's a horrible testament to gravity to watch my face as I run. I have jowls like HOOCH. and, we have previously established I may be inclined to sing while I run. I may even do a semi- dance and work in an assslap when listening to a certain Ke$ha track. Thank you for getting me through the third mile, you skanky tween.

So, I realize my willpower is low and my strength is all but gone. I think I maybe need new shoes? Am on the treadmill cresting mile 3 when I think, yes I need roller skates. That would make this enjoyable, I could dart home like a Prius with a stuck gas pedal.
Then I nearly tripped on my own boob and had to concentrate again.

My only goal in life is not to be jealous of those people- the folks whose ass moves the same direction their legs do when they walk. Is that so inconquerable?

Best of luck kiddies, talk soon

Thursday, July 8, 2010


so I read that they are using botox to help people who have strokes- it helps with paralysis. Well, Motherbarry the bad news is you had a stroke. The good news is, you look younger than ever. I mean, they say no pain no gain right? What if I claim it is preventative medicine? Do you think BlueCross will pay then? What about welfare? Can I put this on my Cobra insurance? Honey, at this rate it's gonna take a tow truck to pull these jowls up. The other day I looked in the mirror and I barked at my own damn self.


generou$ chubby chaser for long dinners with good wines (no box). No fatties or mooches. Wait, this isn't my craigslist acct. Damn it

Sunday, June 27, 2010

one size fits most

So, I had to go this wedding chuldren. I didn't have a thing to wear - I mean no- thing. It's a summer wedding. And wouldn't you know it started to pour rain just as they walked down the aisle pronounced man and wife. Well, they tell me it's good luck. Good luck that no body got that Vera Wang dress wet. That'd been one mad lady, this much I know.

So, here I am trying to find something for this wedding. I like to call weddings: tramp'n'ho retirement parties. When you decide to trade in your diaphram for a big rock, time to hang up those disco shoes and start hitting the vino. But back to the case at hand.

Honey, I decided to go shoppin in my closet. Have you ever done this? I found that I had so many things I had forgotten. Sadly, this new store found in my own house was wonderful but, baby, they just didn't have much left in my size. And that bitch who works there was hateful. But, at the end of the day I was happy I saved my chubby ass from spending money on fat clothes. Because let's be honest, bigger clothes are the gateway to elastic pants and lonely nights.

Much love

Sunday, June 20, 2010

all about the Daddy's day

Today, I am remembering my father who awakened us every weekend morning to the sound of a vacuum cleaner hitting my bedroom door. He sure loved those tracks in the pile carpeting.

Go see your daddy, or the man your mama told you was to be your daddy. Take him to a chain restaurant and let him order dessert. Get crazy, buy him a card or a clip-on neck tie.

I will spend my day watching Maury Povich break the news to all the new and unfortunate daddies. Congratulations- it is very most likely yours!

I am reminded of a few of my own complicated conversations about who may-or-may not be responsible for my delicate condition. But, childrun, you gotta remember it was the 1970s there was no way to be sure. Disco techs tend to lead to peeing on a stick and praying to Jesus.

But I digress....Because today is the day that makes all those awkward paternity tests worth it.

Friday, June 18, 2010

DMV- showdown

Mama done up and sold the Buick. I said to hell with it kiddies, time to get a new ride. Some nice old man bought my sled. He was about 137 by best guess but I really appreciate his generosity. Fortunately, he didn't see that dent from where I hit the ATM or the time I backed over the neighbor kid and his bike. He only saw a good deal and a lime green metallic paint job.

So, me and Father Time go walking into the DMV to get the title for him and get him on his way. Let me back track and tell you that this was the 2nd place we went. The country folks working at the County Clerk's office told me to "go on down there to the state to get that man a title and his driver's tag." Ok, I do what the middle management says to do.

So we stand in line and wait and wait. THen we get a number and wait, and wait. Then they tell me, "Sorry we can't do this. If the car is going over state lines he needs to get a temporary tag there." I scratch my wig and ask, " Can he drive on my tag?" The man whose name tag read BUBA,yes spelt wrong and all... Buba says, "Naw he can't. He needs to get one from Michigan." Ok, so this goes back and forth because Father Time lives in Michigan and bought my Buick here in Tennessee. But, he can't take my tag, and TN won't give him a temp tag- so how the hell is he supposed to get it back the Michigan?

Buba: Ma'am you need to have him get the title and get that tag.
Me: SO he can't drive it until then?
Bub: Nope
Me: How is he supposed to get it back to Michigan
Buba: Ma'am you've asked me this already.
Me: I simply don't understand.
Buba: It ain't my problem

I told the less than helpful folks at the state clerk's office:
"Sir, Mr. Bubba. I understand you think you are helping me.I UNDERSTAND you don't want to help me anymore. I understand you don't want to be professional or courteous. But PLEASE understand that I don't want to be here either. Now I understand you probably have a button where you can push for security to come in 30 seconds, but let me assure you Mr. Bubba, that this will be the longest 30 seconds of your life if you don't start being respectful to me. Now, kindly ring your manager and tell him there is a Customer here who would request his or her assistance. Because you see, it AIN'T my problem isn't an answer."

I left with no drive out tag but I did get a small applause from the folks in line.

Monday, June 14, 2010

amended rules of travel

1) A gate change is nothing personal. pack yourself, your shit and your screaming kids up and walk to the new gate. Stop complaining like it ruined your trip
3) Eat your food before you board. Others do not want to smell it. Maybe I am not in the mood for your nachos smell for 3 hours? Maybe I am not feeling italian today. Maybe I don't want to smell your cinna-bun? Who am I kidding. It is a good thing that heiffer wasn't sitting next to me or I'd have snatched that Cinna-bun up for my own self.
4) Babies on a plane: do not hate the babies. They don't know any better. They think their head may actually explode from the pressure. Hate the parents. If you took your 1 year old to the beach you are an unfit mother - "plane and simple." Babies don't need to fly. You can skip Myrtle Beach this year. Instead, tan your tramp stamp at your local trailerpark swimming hole.
4.5) Babies continued, I will play peek-aboo with the kid if I want to. But, do not think it gets you off the hook. You hear that jeans shorts lady?
5) Jean Shorts are not appropriate for plane, or forever.
5.5) People used to dress for a plane. I know the 1950s were my glory years but you are still in public. this isn't a sleepover with you and 120 of your college friends. Wear clothes not your damn pajamas.
6) Leave the arm rest where it is. If you are too fat to sit in the seat, I am sorry. But you don't get to lay on top of me. Drive to your destination, or better yet walk.
7) Over heard bin space is limited: please do not bring a taped up bag full of "Precious MOments" dolls you got at the local shit store. I want to throw my Jessica Simpson Magic Carpet Ride VIP rolling luggage up there. I don't care if your purchase is too big and might get damaged. Fed Ex makes a living off of shipping that crap for people just like you. This is an airplane meant for people and their bags not your early bird christmas shopping in Pigeon Forge.
8) If I am sleeping on the plane, please do not wake me to ask if I want a soda pop. If I want a Pepsi I will be awake. Some bonehead poked me and asked if I wanted a coke. Well, I did want it- I wanted to throw it on him for being such a dumbass.
9) Keep your shoes on. If you take your shoes of on the plane we will all smell your feet. Worse yet, I will see your feet inches from me. I am likely to scream, point or laugh at you. Keep your damn shoes on.
10) i say it again: IT IS RUDE TO RECLINE YOUR SEAT IN COACH. Nothing better than a balding crown 3 inches from my face. I wanted to pull out my SHARPIE and leave him a note: baldy is inconsiderate of other's personal space. Hope you enjoyed your nap

Bonus: Electronic devices are approved for use during flight- BUT I don't really want to hear the Barney Theme song for 2.5 hours. Get some damn headphones or leave it at home.

thank you for flying bitchy air

Saturday, June 5, 2010

rough night? rough morning

you could probably tell I had a rough night last night from earlier post. So, I did my medicinal ritual "drive through" which always follows the medicinal ritual of "margaritas". I am pretty sure the lady working the drive through thinks I am homeless. Now, i am not at my personal best in the drive through line, which is why one depends on a drive through rather than going inside. So, I look a little crazy haired and unshaven in the drive through. It does not mean I am living in my car.

There is nothing like being judged while waiting on your change. Then I drive to the second window to pick up the order and the guy looks at me like he feels sorry for me. I think he and that hateful judgey lady were talking about me over the radio earphone things they wear. Maybe she punched it in the order? That's okay I will take your pity and some extra ketchup.

Friday, June 4, 2010

it happens in 3's

i am struggling tonight to put my thoughts into words. You see, I feel life is a series of ups and downs. Sometimes you just can't be up. Sometimes it is okay to be sad, or mad or disappointed. They say these things happen in 3's right?

1)Sad: Tonight I cried. I admit it and I didn't expect it. Have you ever heard someone passed and you didn't even know that person, but you cried for her? Tonight I was sad... because you have to respect those that came before you. Someone passed away today who wasn't even a personal friend, but a friend indeed. Tonight a hero has passed- and I pray for her soul to be safe and true. It saddens me when anyone dies but my heart breaks a little tonight in respect.

2) Mad: I lost something. It might be trivial but sometimes the one that got away is gone for sure. I learned that tonight. I had held out hope and kept a torch burning but it only burned down my house. So, tonight I am mad for the love I lost - and the love I never found.

3) Finally: Tonight I learned a lot about disappointment. Disappointment is a double-edged sword. See, it hurts a lot when someone lets you down but it hurts more when you can't forgive them. I surprised myself writing that one down.

So, tonight I write you with a heavy heart. But, I hope, and I pray for that matter, that you realize it is these tough times, the sad times that make the happy times much brighter. And I hope that you get mad and sad and disappointed. Then I hope you laugh your ass off and drink too many beers and embarrass yourself because that, my darlings, is life.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

love, dates and other half-truths

I was just getting my hair did today by my good friend, we will call sister-man. He was patting down my weave and talking to me about his love life and lack thereof when he asked me if I have blogged lately. At first I thought he was referring to my breath but then I realized he meant these internet writings. So, I wanted to tell you all about some bad dates I have done had. Dating is just a farce to me. I mean, there comes a point in a lady's life when you'd rather stay home with your taco bell and a George Clooney movie, am I right?

You might say, "mama you have done gone and gave up." I would say, " honey child, yes, yes I did. I gave it up and then I said this ain't worth all this work so I give up." Love gave up on me and I gave up on it- much like finding my waist line. I am of the humble opinion love is for the young and delusional. I feel the same way about Indian food, honey I can't stomach that after I turned 30. I have enough complicated relationships in my life- if I wanted to deal with some bull shit I would just call out the nursin home and ask to speak to my momma and 'em. I have much to say about love and how the various stage of love are much like a death- eventually you move on. But for today's lesson, chuldrun, we will talk about bad first dates. Let me run three of my very worst down for you- in order of duration:

1) 0:22 seconds I agreed foolishly to a blind date. I had talked with this fool about going to dinner, I don't know where Applebees or Olive Garden some place classy where I could order a mud slide to calm my nerves. When he changes plan and says, let's meet for a drink after work. Hmm... so I agree to pick him up at his work place because it was snowing and we would drive to a bar. Now, chuldrun, I could have been killed, hacked to death and murdered in my own trunk but I went for it all the same. I was young, fancy free and 42. I pulled up in my big Oldsmobile, he hopped in the car. We got to the end of the parking lot and he say, " hey, take me back. I need to go to work," I was shocked. I looked at him and realized he had a phone in his ear. Oh really? I hadn't heard it ring. He say he need to go back to the office, so I just threw that Oldsmobile in reverse and let him walk up the hill.

Why did this happen? Who knows. Maybe I had my saggy side boob showing, or spinach in my teeth. Maybe he mistook the smell of the Oldsmobile for my own body odor? I will never know and it began to pave the road of not givin' a shit anymore.

2) 22 minutes This time I met a gentleman caller for an adult beverage at a bar. I was nervous so I banged down my first Tom Collins. He goes on to tell me that he is a twin. "A twin? There's two of you?" This one was pretty but dry as a leaf in fall, honey. He was so boring. He said, "I have a twin sister." I replied, " Are ya'll identical?" He said, "no, she is a girl." I continued to imply that they were identical by asking, "so are ya'll identical?" He followed with, "you don't understand, identical isn't possible if one is male and one is female. It's called fraternal." Well, I was having a good belly laugh at good looking's misunderstanding that I was joking. This is part of the reason I am single- because I have a certain gift at being rude and calling it flirting. I am also single because I like my space. (Side note: I keep a suitcase at the foot of my bed incase I have a caller who thinks he is going to spend the night. I always have a fictitious flight early the next morning.) So then pretty boy goes on to tell me he is in law school, like I should be impressed. "It's awfully late for you to be in school. Have they held you back?" Again, he didn't laugh, so I continued, " I mean, I don't like lawyers. Especially that D.A. when he tried to go after me for statutory rape and murder. I mean, really, like I was going to admit that shit." I don't recall what happened after that thanks to my Mr. Tom Collins, but pretty boy lawyer asked for the check and left.

I got my revenge, however because one night I happened to be seated next to him at a bar. When my bill came, I pushed it over to him and said loudly to the bartender, this young lawyer man can buy my drinks. He owes me some.

3) A grande finale 1hour 45 minutes This date was the worst of all. We made it through dinner, and drinks and some dancing. When suddenly I couldn't find my date. Only to find he had left- with someone else, an ex of his. Well, it was a nice hour and a half, I spent 15 minutes trying to locate him through a haze of Purple Hooter Shooters. What can I say? It was the 70's.

Best luck with the humping, I mean dating. If I were you I would invest in a nice vibrator but be careful not to chip your teeth if you get out of control.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

grey gardens?

It is raining up in my living room. The damn roof leak has created a water feature that is neither zen nor relaxing for mama. The dern Buick won't start. This must be how Grey Garden's got started? I can't get to church which means I have 48 deviled eggs I made for the potluck to confort me. If it don't stop raining I might build me an ark out of the kids old Lincoln Logs. I don't need two of everything on my ark- just two bartenders and a hair dresser. Hello, Sundee mornin'

Friday, May 14, 2010

the problem with facebook

Here is the thing, childrun. I really try to be "hip." I try to stay "with it," up to speed and stuff. Why? Because I am cool with all that but this internet shit is about to drive me to drank. I mean, first they want me to get on myspace but then that turns to all glittery sparkly pages and it makes me crash my computer. My laptop is an old Atari hardwired with a Commodore Apple and a 12 Volt AutoZOne car battery. The damn thing crashes when my microwave timer goes off, I don't need your glittery pages and songs and mood status.

Then I get on the facebook and the twitter. Here is the thing about twitter. You have to say shit with an "@yourmama" Well I don't give a Fu@k about hearing these short little whines and rants on twitter. I don't care what Ashton Kutcher had for lunch or what Miley Cyrus thinks about foreign politics.

So, I get on face book. But I don't like this either. Aside from feeling like some sort of pedi-file, I just don't like people getting on my face. And now you gotta be a fan of every little damn thing. I get it- if you want to send me a message or you want to catch up with an old classmate or spy on your ex-husband. But I don't need to know what imaginary farm animal you are recruiting or why you need it? That is just weird. I don't want to join your mafia, I am packin in my purse so don't sneak up on me. I don't want to be a fan of any politician or a store. Can you imagine? Let me be a fan of Dollar General, PONTIAC, DOVE SOAP, and asssorted boxed wines.

Now businesses have pages? I want to be a fan of a strip club: the KITTY CAT CLUB in Cleveland? Yes, then I can be a fan of the FREE CLINIC? It's gone too far. See this is what happens. You get a good thing and you go too far and it's ruined. It's just like what happened to jump suits in the 1980s. You have a perfectly useful and acceptable clothing option but people want to make it sporty and put a damn stripe on it- now you have a track suit. Or, you want to make it formal and put puff paint, mirrors and blingy shit on it. We just take things too far and they are worthless, just ruined.

There, you're welcome.

Friday, April 30, 2010

mutha's day

MOther's day has done snuck up on us chuldren. You may not know this about Mama but I raised myself two lovely daughters. One of em done moved up on outta here and got a fancy career. She married some body who can't stand mama so we don't speak much. The other one is crazy outta her head but Mama loves her most of the damn time.

People ask me, what makes you a successful single mother? Well, these children got fed and got out in the world. They are not currently incarcerated and I am particularly proud of that. I am even more proud when they ain't late on the rent and asking me for money for the damn light bills.

I tell you what chuldren, being a momma ain't no easy job. I look at my sister and she is raising two little babies and I think good Lord I can't do that. These babies are sweet as sugar most of the time but sometime they little children when they have a wii in their hands. I guess most kids are though. I am so thankful mine are grown, because I don't have enough nerve pills left.

What is the hardest part about being a mama? Well I would say letting go. These lil' bastards of mine held on to my uterous like it was a basketball goal. I reckon it's hard for all of us to realize our kids are grown up little people and one day they will leave us. They are little minds and will go out and make a way for themself in the world. Sometimes you don't keep a great relationship with your kids or your mama for that matter. I, myself, always thought I owned them kids but then they got out on they own.

So, I hope for Mother's Day you can mend fences if you got mad, or whatever and bring your mama a gift box set of WHITE DIAMONDS by that lady Elizabeth Taylor. Remember to tape the receipt to the bottom so your mama can return it to Wal-Mart but in the meantime she will act like it's her favorite thing next to the snuggy you gave her for Christmas.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


So the other night was an event called DINE OUT FOR LIFE which is an excuse to go someplace nice for dinner with a portion of the proceeds going to a good cause, Nashville Cares, a wonderful organization that helps persons with AIDS and educating the community. However, because I am a snarky old bitch, I couldn't help but think of slogans they could have used to promote it:

Eating out AIDS, Giving AIDS Hell

EATING for AIDS: please hold your pickle

Maybe a sticker: My pants got tight for AIDS?

"Oh damn this AIDS food is good?"

Yes, I am tacky and I would never make fun of any person but it's fun to make fun of words isn't it? And of course, the halibut was asking for it.

Did I go too far?

Sunday, April 18, 2010


Mama loves all kinds of music. I admit I love pop and even country. But I cannot understand some of the lyrics. I'm okay with the less than perfect grammar, otherwise I wouldn't be able to get my groove on to the likes of Ke$ha and Rihanna. Side note maybe I should change my name to MotherB@rry? Mix it up with some symbolism like Ke$ha?

What I cannot stand is when country music talks about food. I hate that song chicken fried. I know, some of you like it. God knows i love me some fried chicken, too but not in a song. Country music should be about love, breaking up and drinking, not fried food.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

your mother regrets

Oh Chuldrun,
I am full of regrets today. I feel I have neglected you letting so much time go on by. I am the worst mother, it's like I left you in the car with the windows up in the heat of the summer while I was in a bar, or worse yet Wal-mart. Please forgive me and know that you- yes YOU- are my favorite child. Don't tell the others they'll just get mad.

So, today, I feel I can best express my feelings and catch you up-to-date with a mismash of er'ythang that's been goin' on. Here goes: (and please try to keep up)

You can't make this shit up:
So Mama decided it was time to be responsible. I felt that I should save the earth and hug a tree (ironically I have pictures of that from college but I was drunk at the time). So, I set out on a mission to buy a Prius. Well, honeys, wouldn't you know I had a nice senior citizen sales lady person named Brenda. She was a hoot and a hot mess, albeit she needs to do better with the sun protection. Miss Brenda, who holds a special place in my heart, is starting to look a little like a basketball from too much time on the lake. I digress... me and leatherlady Brenda took the new 2010 Prius out for drive. Now, understand Mama is a Lexus-drivin' Toyota supporter and I thought it was my time to get green. Until... the damn car stalled out on us. Babies, I was pushing the pedal and then mashin on the gas and Miss Brenda was yelling at me to go faster because we were on the freeway and I tell you- hand to god and on my grandmother's jewelry that thing turned off. We coasted off the freeway and into a parking lot safely. Then Miss Brenda got all flustered and her manager came and picked us up (in a pickup truck no less). What bugged me the most was that they didn't say sorry. They were mad at the car. I was like, hey, I'm not just here for the ride riiight? Anyways, needless to say I won't be getting a Prius and I worry these fine folks at Toyota are having big problems. I think I will do my part by planting trees at the condo complexes downtown.

Why, God, Why?
Mama has been cooking at home a lot. I'm not a great cook but I do know how to throw some green beans in a pan and steam them. So, as a result of my lack of eating dinner in a bag and ordering by numbers, I went to the Doc and found out I had lost 6 lbs.... well not to worry childrun I found them! I had left them at the bottom of a bag of chick-filet.

Never trust a man named Will
The word will means: determined or sure to... well my will in mention was determined to give me a headache this very morning...
So my favorite bartender friend, Will, says to me last night: You've had tequilla, and whiskey. You should have a vodka drink then you can't blame it on any of them. Just have em all. What the hell kind of fool says something like that to an old lady? Even worse is the old lady that believes him. I woke up this morning feelin' like I'd been drinking from the toilet bowl, again. It's a terrible feeling that can only best be remedied by an egg mcmuffin. Now, you say an egg mcmuffin is healthy right? It's one of the best choices at the golden Arches home of all things triglyceride but it's my Jewish grandmother's voice that rings in my ears that I need to take advantage of the deal here. It's a greater value to get the meal- I mean the price of the meal is only a $1 more and you get a tall diet coke, and they are sneaky about throwing that little piece of heaven hashbrown in there, too. The truth is childrun, nothing at McDonalds is healthy and it's best to drive on by it. But, if you see Mamas big white lexus in there you better get outta her way because she is in need of some mcMedicine.

Word games?
Last night I was on somebody's fancy computer phone and found myself playing a game of online scrabble. Yes, children word games. Do you know what is fun about spelling games? Nope, me neither. But I was playing this game and letting it have it. I am worried the next game we will play will be something like : Square Root Fun, or Find the HiddenTax Law? And it occurred to me, that we were all playing this game on a phone sending it to somebody else's phone and nobody was talking. But we were in a ten foot perimeter of each other. Does this bug the hell out of you? I remember when we used to play board games. Now, we have 700 friends on facebook but we are home alone at night with our computers. It just puzzles the hell out of me- all the isolated connectivity in the world.

So, yes, childrun I know that this is not nearly enough information for you and my apology is stale at best but I will make it up to you. In the meantime, I need to take a midol and lay down flat. I can't sleep past 630am anymore even on the weekends and I need to rest my eyes for a minute.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

happy easter

you know something children, today is one of those potato salad holidays. Do you know what I mean? We all put on new flowery dress from the Lane Bryant, and our brand new white sandals that we got from Pay-Less but tell cousin Vynell (that is pronounced Vie-nell not vinyl) that we bought them at Nordstroms when we were (never) in New York because she beliefs such foolery and it makes our hearts warm to think she thinks we are cultured. Vynell is a delicate soul, very judge-mental and pretty much just mental. She thinks Macys really cares about her business which is why they allow her to return outfits she had already worn. She also thinks her late husband invented cruise control but alas was robbed by Detroit. That's another story for another blog, let's get back to our lesson about the Egg Day.

We watch the little children run around and look for eggs and laugh when it's our nephew that slams one of the other kids to the ground in the hunt for the Golden Egg. Maybe one day he'll grow up to be a banker. We pray we don't step in any sink holes or snake dens while walking around the grass helping him cheat to find those eggs, I mean help direct his little soul.

Our whole family gathers to partake in such wonderful cuisines as potato salad, german potato salad, potato casserole, sweet potato salad, lima beans with bacon and my personal favorite, fried chicken and deviled eggs. We pile our paper plates high and wash it all down with sweet tea. Then we do the obligatory raise of the plexiglass dishes to see who brought what? Where I come from everyone brings their homemade dish in a glass tupperware contraption with their name taped to the bottom. That way I can say, I don't know who made this potato salad but it is delicious. What is in that, is that seasoned salt? Then you lift up the dish and say, look here it was Cherlene. She needs to watch all that salt with her high blood pressure. Bless her heart.

Then we wash the dishes and high-tail it out there by 3 o'clock because we've had just about all the screamin' kids we can handle and we're about to push ourself into a diabetic coma with the pecan pie and the chocolate eggs.

But, when we all climb into our Buicks and head for home, I want you to think about what Easter's really all about? It's about new beginnings. It's never too late for you to change. You can do something exciting. You can pop that work out tape in your vcr? You can book that cruise you've been eyeing in the Sunday papers. Maybe you want to try highlights for Spring? Don't get too crazy. Or maybe you'll think, what do I need to change in my life? Do I need to be a better person? Is there a life I haven't been living? Did anybody else get that from the Bible or did you wait for one of those Mel Gibson movies?

Mama's got some changes on the horizon. Life is all about changing. It's got to be or else we'd never get anything done. There are 2 lives for all of us … the life we live and the “unlived” life within us.

I hope you and yours have a wonderful Easter and enjoy the potato salad.

Friday, April 2, 2010

my MaMe

Sometimes I have these flashbacks, sort of like the soldiers do about 'Nam. Only, I remember things my grandmother told me and it always makes me laugh. More often than not these episodes come up in the strangest places like the shower where I am laughing all to myself and thinking surely if anyone saw me they'd think I was Norman Bates' mother. Or, it'd be sometime more inappropriate like a funeral. So here is today's flashback:
Ma-Me: Honey, You really need to get to a church
Me: I'm good, don't you worry about me
Ma-Me: Naw, honey, it'd be good for you
Me: What am I? A sinner today? Why are you concerned about my worshiping habits all the sudden?
Ma-Me:Everybody needs a little God now and then. You know you were never baptized
Me: That's because I was raised 1/2 Jewish and 1/2 Church of Christ. How does one pull that off?
Ma-Me:God don't care where you go, as long as you show up
Me: Well if it's just role call you're worried about, I am sure one of my friends can sign me in.
Ma-Me:You're such a turd. I'm trying to help you. Speakin' of, what are you doing with your hair? You look kinda crazy.
Me: Or you could say you don't like it
Ma-Me: It's frosted
Me: These are highlights (the year was 1994 don't judge me) everybody's doing this, Ma-Me
Ma-Me: Everybody is not, just the sissies and the sluts
Me: And this is what church got you?
Ma-Me: Don't get me wrong, I had my fun in my day
Me: Seriously, I will go to church. I may need to beg for your forgiveness
Ma-Me:Hey, listen, sluts get things done.
Me: We don't have to talk about this
Ma-Me: People always make fun of sluts, but some people think Marilyn Monroe was a spy.
Me: What are you drinking?
Ma-Me: She had Kennedy in the palm of her hand. Sometimes, literally.
Ma-Me:And you thought she was a slut?
Ma-Me: No I thought she was a lot smarter than me.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

does your mom know?

So I went to McDonald's today because I had a stressful day and I am a sugar addict. So, I fed the craving with soft serve. Yes, I am perfectly content to live my life in drawstring pants. I've given up.

But, while in line I had the distinct pleasure of listening in on the trials and tribulations of a certain plaid skirt wearing, all-girl-school world.
These girls, MaryBeth, MaryFrancis and MaryWhinesALot where in line in front of me, after ordering: a 6 peice mcnugget to split among the 3 of them, 2 diet cokes and one McCafe. I guess MaryFrancis has given up, too.

So Mary#1 says: "you're so lucky I have to drive my mother's hand me down shit volvo wagon."
Mary#2 responds, "I hate my Prius. I want a Range Rover, screw the environment. Al Gore's a fatass anyway."
Mary#3 says, " I got stuck with my Dad's Mini Cooper. Eww. It's so midlife crisis."
** I wanted so badly to say, "Does your Mom know? That your Dad's gay?"

But I kept it inside and decided to share my hatefulness with you, blog world. Amazing what a $25,000/year education delivers.

Monday, March 15, 2010

a lesson about comfortable shoes

Honeys, mama is having a awful time with this getting older thing. I went out Saturday night with my rowdy friends. We ended up at some club and let's just say things ain't what they used to be. No body asked mama for her number, no body looked my at me. I think I heard one rude child with an X on his hand yell, "Tommy, your mama's here to get you." Then at the end of the night somebody (I may or may not have had a previous romantic entanglement with) shoved a cell phone in my face and asked me my last name and proceeded to lick my face. There was a time in my life when I might have thought that was hot, or romantical even? But I just felt plain dirty. Not dirty in a good way, dirty in the way that I wished I had a wet wipe to clean up and disinfect. I think you don't get to lick someone if you don't know their last name, call me old fashioned.

Yes, I went into that bar feeling like a cougar. But I left like a lamb, or maybe more like an old goat that you need to put down. So, thank god it was daylight savings time. Yes, I was thankful the bar closed an hour early so I could jump in a cab and get home. I used to run for the bar at last call. This time I ran for the door. Nothing worse than that moment when they turn on the lights- people scatter like roaches. The cruel overhead lighting is like finding a million love letters and none of them true. Things just are better in the dark, with some bass, but not too much, my damn ears were ringing through lunchtime.

Sunday morning I woke up and my feet felt as though they had been run over by a truck. You know you are old when your feet hurt. You know you are getting old when you have to start thinking about what shoes you are wearing and if the floors are going to be concrete or carpet. You have to start planning for the terrain. You don't worry about that shit in your 20s. In your 20s you worry if you have enough cab fare to get home after you paid two covers and four rounds of shots named after bombs. You worry if you can find your panties and your house keys when you wake up and realize that is not your ceiling fan you're staring at. That's why I always kept a spare pare of panties in my glovebox and a key hidden in a decorate plastic rock in the garden. Nowadays the only thing in my glovebox is asthma medication and antacid pills.

Yes, I gave that weekend hell. I said, "take that weekend!" I had to do it. I was feeling old and you ain't no good to nobody when you feel old. By Sunday afternoon my age called up and said, "sit the hell down, fool. What is wrong with you?" Thank god for the magical healing powers of taco bell. So, kids, let me leave you with a few cautionary lessons: (1)You are never too old to act the fool (2)Always have cab fare and (3) for God's sake wear comfortable shoes. With any luck you'll have a long walk home

do as I say, not as I do
yur mama

Friday, March 12, 2010

sit and spin

Momma went and did that bike thing I always see white women hoisted up on- the upright bike. The call it spinning if you're in a class. I don't like group activities, I just rode it today for 6 miles- 20 minutes. I am pretty sure I have fractured my vajayjay. Something is not right down there. I think maybe I was violated by the bike seat. Maybe it is just a bruise? I don't want to go to the Dr and telling him I think I have blown out my badussy area. This is just too delicate to examine.

It could be that I am just that out of shape. Yes, I know, I know, I need padded bike shorts. Well the good Lord gave me lots of padding down there. I just think it fell out and around the area some how leaving me exposed to a delicate situation. I probably cannot have children due to this unfortunate turn of events in gymnation. I fear had I gone for a full hour class (which was momma's goal) that it would have required two large men YMCA employees, a fireman, medic and a licensed badussy technician to remove the bike from my personal space area. This is no good.

I am off to cool in a tub of water and pray for daylight.

god bless your weekends, honey, you deserve it after reading this horror

Monday, March 8, 2010

food for thought

hello chuldren.

I know you've been neglected and mother is sorry about that. I have to focus myself- I need to take my life in for a realignment. If only it were that easy to get back on track with life like they straighten the tires on my Buick.

Mother is loving the 60 degree weather, and the first glimpse of spring. I drove home tonight with the top down and the wind in my weave (One hand holding it in place the whole ride home). I think it's the warm air and the way it makes the night more friendly. Don't you notice the world in a more friendly light when it is warm out? When it's cold it seems more quiet and when it is warm it just seems like life is more alive? Is this my Chardonnay talkin?

I feel inspired. I feel the need for some change. Now, don't go and worry yourself sick. I'm not going to do anything crazy. I won't go and get bangs, or highlights or anything hair related that I have to wait to grow out. I do have a hankering to travel, or to move for that matter. I think it needs to be a big change. What should I do?

I tell you what I am not doing... dieting. I do so good for a day or two and then I go to the grocery store hungry and it all falls in my cart. This time I got some sweets and potato chips- after I told myself I would diet. So, here is the confession: it was meant with best intentions. I bought a half a pie. Have you seen those in the deli? They cut the pie in half. So, I wanted some damn pie, and it was Oscar night. I needed to celebrate my inner PRECIOUS and I ate the damn pie. Not the whole thing - but 2 slices in a 24 hour period. that is 2/3 of a half - and I don't want to do anymore math than that because it will make me sick. So, what happened to the last 1/3 you ask? I poured Dawn's dishwashing soap on it and tossed it in the kitchen trash. I was afraid if I did not ruin it with soap I might be tempted to dig through the trash like a homeless person. It's shameful, truly shameful. Imagine if someone walked by my window and saw me digging through the trash looking like Nick Nolte with a piece of fudge pie? Well, they'd have some explaining to do if they were walking through my back yard and looking in my window. Of course, if the pie face didn't scare them my bedroom attire might.

Then I moved onto Kettle Chips. In a 48 hour period I ate almost the whole bag. I didn't douse this one in soap, however because it was meant as part of my lunch this week. Only, it became lunch, brunch, dinner and everytime the phone rang in between. It's just one bag- don't over exaggerate an already sad situation. I know you're picturing me looking just like Kirstie Alley, and I have to tell you off topic: I am a big fan of her's. Anyone with that much nerve deserves some respect - or medication?

So, children, don't judge your mama. It's a hard fact to accept when you realize your idols, your parents are not perfect. I have my crutch, salt and chocolate. But, I am a respectable old broad: I've been going to bed with the same man every night for more than 20 years: Johnny Walker-Black.

So, if you're still following this rant, leave mother a message - some food for thought? What should I change? What have you changed? Can I borrow some change?

And remember honeys: there is a reason the word DIET starts with DIE and GODIVA starts with GOD.

this posting was brought to you by the (:) tonight we are a big fan of a colon and the good people at Kendall Jackson.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

The butt of the joke

So, I am trying to lose this damn winter weight. And, yes, these damn girlscout cookies don't help a bit. I'm an emotional eater- that means food makes me happy. What can I say? We all have our crutch? Look, I'm not looking for sympathy but Susan Boyle gets more action than me- ok. I need the damn cookies.

To counteract the Somoas, I am trying to run again. This shit is for the birds. Literally... I caught my own reflection in the window and it looked like a baby bird trying to run from the nest. I know I am struggling but my arms were all over the place. I need them for balance because I am bottom-heavy. They call it pear shaped. It looks like I have two bowling balls shoved down my Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, ok. I am aware of my greater assets. Sadly, they need to shape up.

Again, my own reflection betrayed me when I exited the shower feeling so fresh and clean to start the day I saw two slabs of unrolled biscuit dough staring back at me. Again, no sympathy please. However, I think I can parlay my fate into fortune. I am going to invent the ass-bra. Think about it? It would improve your form in your pants and help give you support to skip down the treadmill golden brick road.

So let it be said, I have pattened'id the Butt-Bra. Or the Bra-ass-eere? That part might be in development. I can see it now, me on the late night tv with Suzanne Somers. If that bitch made millions on here thigh master my butt bra has got to buy me a beach house in Cabo and a new Corolla. It's a sports bra for your butt- and my calling in life. You will applaud when your thighs stop slapping together... I gots to go and see if I can register the # for 1-800-ass-lift.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Girl Scout Nazi

You are not going to believe this shit, darlin.

So I answer the door today and this little, tiny, cute thing is staring up at me. She had dark hair and pig tails and glasses. "What kind of girl scout cookies would you like?" Being one to appreciate a good pitch like that, I laughed and said, " Oh sweetheart, I am sorry I bought some already from my neighbor." She didn't like this answer and she belted back, "But I am your neighbor" and readily spilled out her address. Immediately her arms crossed and I got nervous like I was about to be mugged and taken down by a 10-year old. In my defense, she had a lot of badges I had no idea what she was capable of.

"Well, I am sorry. But I have four boxes and I don't need anymore do I?" I pointed to my belly thinking humor might soften the blow, but I did not judge my audience at all. "Who did you buy them from?" Well now the little bitch was putting me on the spot. Did she not believe me? Was she testing me? Who is she to stand on my porch... these thoughts are going through my mind just as quickly as these thoughts- Is this shirt clean? Do I have on shoes? Did I zip up my fly?

"I don't know her name. She lives on the corner. She has a sister. They're blonde..." The girl scout Nazi was giving me a blank stare and no relief. "Her mommy is pretty and she drives a white Mercedes." Then she shoves the order form at me and continues the questioning, " When did she bring them to you?" I was getting nervous. I think I had armpit sweat off this little heifer. "Uhm, well, let me see. I think it was, I think had to be Tuesday? No, maybe Monday. Does it matter?"

"This was supposed to be my house. She isn't even in my troop." I am imagining some girl scout teamster meeting- 'Ok, Sally you get the west quadrant of Green Hills up to Belle Meade. Suzy, you're on the east side of Hillsboro. Jennifer, damn it stay out of the southwest end- don't you cross Estes Road, you got that?"

My day dream was interrupted. "Well, I'm going to talk to her." She grimaced and walked away but as soon as she hit the yard she began to skip. This little girl is going to grow up to run the world I thought- or at least have a successful empire of arts and crafts television shows, books and magazines. She won't stand for anything less.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

truths about Valentine's day

I think there's a lot of truth to Valentine's day. I think there's a lot of commercialization in the and it is in fact, a Hallmark Holiday. So, childrun, I thought I'd share my thoughts with you on the eve of the big Heart-On holiday. Here's what I believe:
i dont know if i believe in love
i believe in cold sores, and coincidentally i believe in herpes as a by-product of passion
i believe you can pay too much for a steak dinner (steak doesn't make me feel particularly romantic or horny as much as it does full and bloated)
i believe that there's no way a dozen roses costs $100 (and roses make me sneeze)
i believe that the greeting card industry makes millions of dollars on couples but the spirits and wine industries make double in the single market
i believe chocolate is the way to my heart- but only if you are a chubby chaser will this work out in the long haul
I believe that we all want to be in love and probably need to be in love for chemical reasons in the brain (some people need this more than others)
I believe love changes as you get older
I really believe that I just need some one to believe in me and as much as I believe in them... I believe that is the definition of love

Sidecar: you might wonder how a little number like mamma got away? well, children, I ran like hell from love, and now nobody is chasing me.

Tell someone you love them. If you really do, good for you. If not, you both deserve a little nookie on valentine's day.

in repair

so sorry, childrun, that I've been away. I'm like that mother that leaves her kids locked up in the Walmart parking lot with the windows up in July... I was traveling for work. Pushing my goods to the streets. And, I fell ill. I am in repair now, so I will be with you shortly.

Monday, February 8, 2010


Last night I went to a superbowl party. I ate my way through it. Then when I got home and took my clothes off I was marked (again). It was like the equator around my waist. It was the sign of demarkation- carbs vs liquor- hemispheres... there's a reason it's called fat and happy.
Tonight I ran on the treadmill... I got to 3 miles- only because I pretended there was a bucket of fried chicken on the other side of the room.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

More rules of travel

Honey, I have come to the realization that my company hates me. In actuality they are just... how do you say this delicately because I do want to keep my current employment? Cheap ass-es? How bout that one. I flew out to the Tundra also called Minnesota for work. I don't know why anyone in their right mind would want to live anywhere with all this snow and no film festivals.

So I am crammed in the airplane tighter than tuna in a can. Then I get a rental car- of course it's a Hyundai, or a Kia some kind of car that isn't spelled normal- just a bunch of letters that mean cheap in Chinese or Korean. I check into the hotel - with like 4 feet of snow in the parking lot and proceed to ruin my new shoes. Then I get my room and I kid you not there is NO WINDOW. I think how is this not a fire hazzard? The window is like a porthole in a submarine. I could never jump out of it if I needed to. Yes, these are the things I think about right before bed, very relaxing.

I wake up this morning and when I am trying to pat down my weave and put on my face, I find the light in the bathroom is burned out. Now, a normal person would call the hotel but I had no time, I was already late and standing there dripping on the tile-ish floor. So, I hope my wig is on straight.

From now on I wish they'd just UPS my ass from place to place. It would save a lot of time and inconvenience. Of course, they'd probably insist I go ground...

Monday, February 1, 2010

Momma is so sorry for the neglect. It's not like I left you alone in the parking lot of K-mart with the windows up and the doors locked in July, but it was almost as bad. Momma has been out pushing the cart and making some paper. It's hard being a single working mother. And that doesn't mean I have kids... I'm on the road for the next 3 weeks so I'll be typing to you out of my Samsonite while I unroll my support elastic waisted pants and steam them in the shower.

And I want to mention the grammys. That Pink lady is something else, I tell you. I felt inspired, I ripped the sheets off my bed and threw them over the ceiling fan. However, it wasn't exactly the same experience. Of course, the tequila made it better.
I leave you with this nugget so I can go change the clear baggy for my fluids and gels at TSA - they all talk shit about my Christmas theme ziplock baggy....A friend of Momma's told me this one:

The real reason that I'm drinking Shiraz tonight? I took a quiz on heart health over the weekend, and it turns out that I'm doing almost everything exactly right. There are only two things that my results said could do better: (1) I should lose weight, and (2) I should actually drink MORE red wine.

I decided it would be easier to drink the wine. :-)

Friday, January 22, 2010

be careful where you knock

So, I had settled in to watch the Vampire Diaries- my favorite teen vamp drama. I like to turn off the lights because it makes me scared and adds ambiance for the romantic-al scenes. I love some vampire loving. Anyway, I had opened my bottle of Cab and was eating my Peiwei (american-chinese). It was just getting scary and then I got a knock at my door just beside my tv. (This is the SIDE door not the front door of my house). Let me tell you I about jumped out of my skin. I was scared it could be a vampire, then I was really excited it COULD be a vampire...

Well damn it, it was some kid wearing an AT&T jacket telling me he was here to sell me AT&T television services. He proceeded to tell me that I could save money, blah blah. Keep in mind my tv is still on and the room is dark as night. I was a little uncomfortable talking to him but glad I had on respectable clothing rather than my robe which had been my first instinct. Ok, so then he says: "what channels do you get?" All of the sudden apparently the vamps decided it was sexy-go-time and I hear some moans coming from my tv. So, I am laughing and said, "well obviously the dirty ones."

Thursday, January 21, 2010

on a serious note

my heart is heavy for the people of Haiti and I am amazed as I watch the continued coverage. I know it's been days and I feel like I shouldn't blog about something trivial. I don't have a lot of followers but I hope that everyone is giving what they can and realizing how lucky we all are. I am inspired and hopeful that you and I can make a difference with every $10 we can spare.

We live in a time of changing political climates and uncertainty. I am reminded that only the basics matter- I made a list of things I think are important. Please feel free to share:

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where more money is spent on education that war?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where farmers are valued more than lawyers?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where responsibility is rewarded more than greed?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where health isn't influenced by profit margins?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where health is subsidized more than auto makers?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where rights for minorities don't have to be voted on by majority?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where violence is more taboo than nudity?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where the future is more important than past grievances?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a country where we strive more to understand each other than to be understood?

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where we help each other, unconditionally, not just because we are all equal but because we can?

Don't forget tomorrow night is a telethon. What you give away comes back to you someday- that's what I always like to think.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

irony of it all

Honey, this working out this is damn near killin' me. At the gym today this white lady asked me, "how is your resting heart rate?" I said, "it's the best part of my whole damn day, honey." The gym is over-run with the ladies that wear make-up to work out and clothes that match. When I go to the gym it's like the movie Precious, if Precious were set in the YMCA. So, I did my machine and listened to my workout friend squawk about her addiction to soy latte teas or something of that nevermind. I like Diet Coke and Snickers bars, together or apart. That is my addiction, not a $5 coffee. Then I did some ridiculous rope machine. I was climbing a rope- but not really. I was sitting down and climbing a rope that rotates around this machine. The irony of it all- we run standing in place, we climb rope but we aren't goin' anywhere. Just makes you think what happens with all that mis-placed spent energy? I guess all these muscles are really just for show and not for street use. My body is like the sad, famed Pontiac Fiero- it is supposed to look all sporty and hot but underneath the clothing, it's just a golf cart.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Resolutions: not so much

So I made it to the gym. A hotel gym no less. Am on small business trip. Promised myself would get 30 minutes in because have not been so disciplined with the nasty cold. Here is the thing: it's so difficult to run when your thighs are slapping together. Yes, I said my inner thighs are giving each other the "high five" and no one told me this would happen. I am scared that while running I could start a forrest fire. So, I did the elyptical which is much like walking when drunk, but your arms are moving in a more controlled motion. I had come to the conclusion that I hate working out when my own tiddy flew up and hit me in the eye and then bounced off my shoulder.

Now, am off to fancy work dinner. This is great in theory, except work dinner followed by work breakfast and full day of work meeting before driving home with co-workers. So, your mama is saying she can't show her ass at fancy Italian restaurant. Enough Pinot Grigio, thank you.

Best part ever: aforementioned cold brought about lovely cold sore. Looks like evil twin is hatching from my own lip to take over my face and foil my plan for world peace. Nothing says I am a skank like: cold sore. I should wear a sash: MISS INDESCRETION : I make bad decisions.

Off to put on my sequined moo-moo and bedazzled orthopedic shoes. It's show time kids.

Monday, January 11, 2010

If only I could remember

I have my best thoughts at night, late at night. I can't tell you how many funny things I have thought but only if I could remember. Sometimes when I am in the shower I make up songs, and they are damn good, but I don't remember them between the shampoo and the toweling off.

My memory isn't as good as it quite was. I suspect it is because I am torn working at home, traveling, writing and trying to be a blogger and being a general pain in the ass. So I write myself notes to remember things.

Sometimes it is a note to remember a particular point on a contract.

Sometimes it is an item at the grocery store I neglected to get.

Sometimes it is to feed the cat, even though she does need to eat every day.

Sometimes, it is to add correct punctuation.

Sometimes it's an idea. This is the trickiest. I find now that I scribble it down and one of three things happens:
1) cannot read own handwriting (Does this happen to you or am I a slob?)
2) does not reconnect to original thought of brilliance and is lost forever in sea of intelligent no-where-ness
3) Cannot make sense of what the hell I wrote in the first place. What does this even mean? Why did I write down that? Why did I write down juxtapoz? That's my whole life.

So now I must write narrative. I am writing little letters to myself. No, don't get the wrong Idea I don't write love letters to myself. "Dear lovehandles, you're a person, too." " Dear self, you're smart and people respect your opinion" No- I write, this is for this thing and don't forget to do that with it.

One can imagine that this is great loss and waste of time, again typically late at night and it makes perfect sense that when I get up tomorrow I will remember that I had a great idea for a scene in a screen play... alas it's never as good as it was just before I went to bed. And, I can't write the song in the shower because the paper gets wet and I lost the lyrics.

So, you see, I am a one person paper recycling machine. If only my brain could be recycled for something useful I could control the world.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

snow day

today was a snow day. I tried to get out but I slid the big sled about ten feet backwards and decided it was not worth it. Funny how an inch of snow translates to ice which doesn't look like anything but makes it just not worth it. Immediately put on my robe and slippers: this is what giving up feels like

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Ever wonder?

So Mama is old now. I've come to embrace the fact that my age is catching up to me. While I am fighting the battle of the bulge, I realize I will never be a size two again. I do however, have ambition that my ass won't bounce off the back of my knees when I run. What I cannot conquer is my eyesight. I gave up and got glasses, which I'd been fighting. Now, for one thing I swear my non-glasses vision is worse than ever. I think my eyes are as lazy as my ass now. But what I cannot wrap my head around is what the hell happens everyday that gets my glasses so dirty. I mean, were my eyes this dirty before I started wearing the damn things? What are those little specs of dirt? Do I sneeze that much? How come I can never just clean them with my shirt tail and not get that damn smudge? I'd like to say I'd get lasik but I'd see that money going into a lipo jar before the lasik jar. That's really all Mama has to say today. I've enjoyed plenty of holiday cheer and I am wore out behind the second weekend cheers and holiday spirits. I'm off to hit up a hot toddy and put on my night robe.