No Worries – – We’ve Got Your Back.

mad magazine

When a normal person is scared they have breast, skin or bone cancer,

They simply get examined by a doctor and have a quick answer.

But I worry the procedure will have serious complications,

Or their medical equipment will have poor calibrations,

Or the laboratory will make gross errors in their calculations,

Or the results will come back with (gasp!) positive confirmations!

So instead I go to a therapist and have lengthy conversations . . .

“How do I stop incessantly worrying about everything?” I ask.

They nod knowingly, sending me home with one simple task.

“Write down everything you fear happening, make one great big list.

Because once it’s down on paper, from your mind it’ll be dismissed.”

I take my pencil and put every single dread down in plain black and white

But maybe writing causes lead poisoning, how to avoid that disturbing plight?

And reading these awful lists are more frightening than thinking I have ovarian cysts.

To the depths of despair I sink, the only thing to do is find another Shrink.

The next one prescribes Xanax, Zoloft, Valium, and even a little Prozac.

Cuz drugs have your back & get you on track when life goes outa whack.

(Never mind the side effects, like filling your arteries up with plaque!)

Oh dear, this isn’t working; I think I need to just find a homeopathic Guru.

“Don’t Worry, Be Happy” a sign over his desk sounds a little too woo-woo.

He warns, “Thinking about something you don’t want, will surely bring it about”

Oh great, now all my concerns will come true, of that there can be no doubt!

“Thank you!” I say as I pay the pretty receptionist his outrageous high bill.

I can’t think about going broke; I need to worry about writing my own will.

But first my caring boyfriend offers (for free!) his own professional tactics,

“You need an adjustment,” he says, “You should never underestimate chiropractics.”

I climb up on his special table, wondering if it’s been recently sterilized.

“Just don’t touch my neck, back, shoulders or body…I don’t wanna be paralyzed.”

He shakes his head in frustration and I fear his prognosis is gonna be bleak.

“I know you pick our dinners and movies — my diagnosis is you’re a Control Freak.”

As I drive home I realize I haven’t heard from my kids, not a peep all day long,

Now I’m sure they’ve been kidnapped or injured, or something else is wrong.

“Kids” I say, “Why don’t you phone to pester me or tell me your life is a mess?”

“We’ve been told to keep things secret, so we don’t cause you further stress.”

This sounds like bad advice from none other than my ridiculous Ex.

Now how will I know if my son is on drugs or my daughter’s having sex??!

As a last resort, I take all my troubles to an Author’s Workshop and ask for advice.

“Go home and Blog about it, I’m sure your followers will think that’s nice.”

But I worry an 800-word story about an MRI and a malignant brain tumor,

Will cause my readers to suspect, “She’s completely lost her (odd!) sense of humor!”

So maybe I’ll write a poem – but gosh, should it be a sonnet, a limerick or a haiku?

And will my depressing topic elicit comments like, “Sheesh, we really dislike you!”

Where will this ever end? There’s no remedy for being a compulsive worrier . . .

I’ll just go back to sleep, it’s clear my future’s dim and so much blurrier.

Desperate, I read the label sewn into my bed, “Under penalty of law, do not remove!”

And I smile and think, “Wow, I can do that! Now my life will start to improve!”

Yes, pillows and mattress tags are something I can completely control,

So I can cross off worrying about arrests, going to jail and never getting out on parole!

tag

10 Practical (Tactical!) Jokes To Play On Male Folks!

kickurteacher_Large

From time to time Little Miss Menopause gets accused of having a blog so tame that it purrs like a kitten instead of growling like a tiger. Therefore if you’re under 18 or easily offended, please skip today’s “wild” post because I’m leaving the pet shop behind and taking a trip to the zoo!

Ladies, do you have a bit of a naughty side that wants to unleash itself on other occasions besides April Fools day? Or maybe you have an anniversary coming up and what do you get a guy who has everything? (Yes, if he’s got you, you better believe he wants for nothing!) This is where that old adage, “the best things in life are free” comes in…Making Memories.

An R-rated practical joke is an experience he won’t soon forget. So forget about gluing quarters to sidewalks and shorting the sheets in your bed — I’m talking sexy enough that the two of you will be reminiscing years from now, while sitting on the front porch in His & Her rockers. (Future Joke Hint: You can also put wheels on those chairs so you’ll always rock n’ roll together!)

Here are ten Spranks (Sex + Pranks, and yes I just made that up!) to liven up your relationship in a way that he’ll find delightfully mischievous.

10 Creative Spranks For Unsuspecting Males

1. While eating together, start to really enjoy your food. C’mon and give Meg Ryan a run for her money.meg ryan

2. Tell him you have a confession: before you met him, you were an adult film star who used a different name. When he begs to know what sexy pseudonym you were called, give him that old formula combining your pet’s name and the first street you lived on. (I was “Oreo Maple Lane.”)

3. Everything is rushed today: drive-thru banking, high speed Internet, life hacks and of course, fast food. Welcome him to Sex Express. “Home of the Quickie!” Wear a counter employee’s paper hat, have a napkin dispenser on the nightstand for messy parts, condoms mixed with ketchup packets and a menu listing the combo services. Don’t forget to get a bikini wax shaped like a Big Mac.

4. Your new book was finally published. Won’t he be thrilled to see what you’ve authored? Leave a copy lying around the living room where he knows your girlfriends will see it . . .

Forget gluing quarters to sidewalks and shorting the sheets. Here are ten sexy pranks to get you started with making the 1st day of April just a bit spicier!

5. Make up an expensive receipt for a home repair from an appliance guy or your handyman. What broke? Your vibrator, of course. (Bonus points for red stamping “After hours emergency house call” on the envelope.)

6. Leave the Internet open to a website about bondage & discipline and his necktie on your pillow. Act properly flustered when confronted.

7. Tell him you’ve taken up ceramics and rent a potter’s wheel. When you sit down with messy clay hands, have the song “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers playing in the background. He’ll see Ghosts for years.

8. Accidentally call him by another woman’s name during the throes of climax and see if that excites him. Make sure it’s not your mother’s.

9. In the morning, text him graphic details and plenty of high praise about how amazing he was in the middle of the night. See how long it takes him to realize you were never together last evening.

10. And lastly, if you’re just too shy to play these jokes out of the blue, then go ahead and wait for that infamous 1st day of the fourth month of the year before you do the following: Deliberately pile up his saw, screwdriver, wrench, and hammer while telling him you’re missing your favorite thing from the collection—then slowly unzip his pants and whisper, “Happy April Tool’s Day.”

Be brave girlfriend and use your imagination — I guarantee any of the above will leave a ferocious impression and might even get you a date with a handsome lion-tamer.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/joke/

And if you want to see one of the ways I make ends meet, check out the new blog I write for Spire (a fun company that manufactures a breathing monitor for your wrist!) right HERE.

Reincarnation Realization!

no reincarnationMany people believe in reincarnation, even taking things a step further by claiming that the same individuals go round and round in groups, staying bonded together for the duration of many lifetimes. I just finished reading the book Many Lives, Many Masters by Dr. Brian Weiss which also confirms that souls travel as a clan to the other side and back again, making sure to stay in the same family. But I have to wonder if they take turns being the black sheep.

Joking aside, apparently they do change up their relationships with each other — even their genders. And hold onto your hat for this next one — they can change species too!

So, are you getting this? This means you and your spouse may have been brother and sister or a parent and child in a previous life!  After realizing all the possibilities, I incredulously put down Dr. Weiss’ book to carefully scrutinize my own family members with brand new (and suspicious!) eyes.

My eldest girl DOES slightly resemble my beloved grandmother who was always so kind and gentle to me. Could it just be their shared DNA or did my grandma actually return as my own daughter so we’d stay connected? It’s definitely not good for me, but all these years I’ve been mourning her death.

I peek into my daughter’s room to observe her sleeping, tangled up in her blankets. (Is that you, Nana?) I lean over and cheerfully whisper into her ear, “Good morning!”

“It’s definitely NOT good morning mourning for me!” she retorts. I freeze. Wow. Just wow. That is utterly amazing! Of course this may have something to do with her not being a morning person.

“I miss homemade chicken noodle soup,” I continue hopefully. “How about you make a pot today?”

“Go away! It’s Sunday so I get to sleep in! Cook your own stupid soup!” my daughter shouts, throwing a pillow at my head. I guess that could be considered borderline nurturing.

After a few more hours pass, I have another idea. Nana loved to knit and even made me a few special pieces I’ve kept to this day.

“What do you think of this sweater?” I ask as my daughter combs her long auburn hair. Nana had reddish hair too! I look into her eyes for any sign of recognition.

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not handing that ugly thing down to me. If you want to wear old-fashioned stuff like that, that’s your business. But I recommend putting it in your next garage sale!” Okay, so she’s not my elderly, sweet Nana – she’s just a 17-year-old spoiled, ungrateful brat.

Moving on to the more fascinating concept of species switcheroos, I stare at my parrot and coo, “Does Auntie Pauline wanna cracker??” as the bird swings on his little trapeze and tilts his head curiously at me. Or even better . . . maybe my ex-husband is actually my long lost childhood dog named Elvis? After all, he’s always hounding me and occasionally he’ll wear blue suede shoes.

But then something even stranger happens. I loan the book to my sister who somehow becomes convinced that her first husband Jeffrey, a drunk who died of liver disease, has come back as my youngest son.

“That’s absurd,” I tell her on the phone. “Hold on a sec, the kids are arguing over who gets to wear an old sheet for Halloween.”

Me:  C’mon, you can be a mummy. Let your siblings be Ghosts.

Son:  But I’ll miss all the boos!

My Sister: (shouting from inside my cellphone) “Go back to Alcoholics Anonymous, Jeffrey!”

Maybe there really is something to all this reincarnation stuff after all.

So what about me?? Who was I before I was me? I definitely hope I wasn’t any of our crazy relatives that I’ve heard about through the years. Maybe there are other possibilities? I consult the index of the book and find a section called, “Celebrities who come back as ordinary people.” That’s it….I’ve always known that diamonds ARE a girl’s best friend.

When my ex-husband comes to the door to pick up our kids, I swivel my hips and breathily sing, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!” His bewildered reaction? “Uh…. way to go, Marilyn.”

“Thanks, Elvis!” I respond. Then he howls and scratches his fleas.

Do you believe in reincarnation? If so, do you have any proof?

Review of Me & You??

reviewsA long time ago the only people writing reviews were movie and restaurant critics. Ever notice how many evaluations you (the average consumer) might compose today? I’m not just talking about the many products you order online. I mean every aspect of the service industry (beauticians, car mechanics, Uber-drivers, realtors, dry-cleaners, banks, pet-groomers) as well as professionals like doctors, dentists, attorneys, and psychiatrists.

It’s reached the point that I expect to see Hookers given 4 stars on Yelp and I will rate the following people, just like this:

BEST FRIENDS **

I met Tiffany in high school where we’d have giggle-fests over trying to get out of mandatory showers in gym class by hiding in the stalls of the girls’ bathroom. Nowadays, she’s just fairly adequate when it comes to walks on the beach and going to bat for me when I show up to book club without a stitch of makeup on because I overslept. But as far as gal-pals go, she’s catty and will tell anyone who will listen that I routinely put Lunchables in my kid’s backpack and once tried to pass off Manischewitz Matzo Ball mix as homemade during Passover by adding only paprika and some white meat chicken breast. If you should encounter Tiffany in the chair next to yours in the manicurist shop, you should probably not hesitate to give her The Fingernail.

CHILDREN *************************

My boys have gone above and beyond the call of duty as kids. This past Mother’s Day, not only did they order me a bouquet of roses, but they also remembered I get depressed when I watch living things die and so they sent me an already deceased daddy long legs spider. This may seem gruesome to you but I knew it was their symbolic way of reminding me of all the years I paid them to kill bugs for me because I was too squeamish and had bad aim trying to throw hardcover books at the scores of creatures slithering up our walls. This updated model of son is also vastly improved from previous versions in that they can tie their own shoes and when you tell them to make their beds they don’t say, “Why? We’re just gonna sleep in them again tonight.” I’m very pleased with how these guys turned out after high school and when I see women walking down the street, looking just a little too energetic or well coordinated with their accessories, I always recommend giving birth to a few little boys, just to give some new meaning to life.

FIRST EX-HUSBANDS *

I really wish I could give this individual less than one star. Amazon should have ¼ star options. He started off fairly reliable but soon turned out to be really unstable, becoming completely unglued and unhinged after our divorce, not only breaking down himself but additionally breaking lots of hearts, rules, laws, and even a few bones after he had a textbook mid-life crisis and bought himself a motorcycle. Ladies, if you run into him at a singles event, I would run, not walk in the opposite direction.

WORDPRESS FOLLOWERS************

These people are some of the best in the entire blogosphere. They’re creative, friendly, discerning, have great sense of humors, and are incredibly supportive. I’m thrilled to have made a connection with them and can only hope they’ll leave a nice review of me when the time is right….like a couple of paragraphs down!

And it would not surprise me in the least to come across these reviews written about Yours Truly.

HOUSEKEEPERS/ORGANIZERS/COOKS/LAUNDRESSES/CARPOOLERS/SHOPPERS/GARDENERS **

Meh. Those first six classifications, we’ll only allot her 2 stars. But that last category? Don’t make us laugh. This woman can’t grow a radish or carrot to save her life or to compete with that raggedy looking parsnippity vegetable that Scarlet O’Hara dug out of the ground triumphantly in that climatic scene of GWTW, where she vowed as God as her witness, she’d never go hungry again. Speaking of The Hunger Games, we were routinely starved because Ms. Lewis always claimed she had deadlines to meet with all her many blogs. Can we say delusions of grandeur?

GIRLFRIENDS ***

I’ve been Stephanie’s boyfriend for the past four years now and I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Stephanie tries to act like she belongs in this decade, but there’s always something incredibly 80’s about her. It could be her gigantic hair, her off the shoulder clothing, her eyeglasses, her shoes, her music, her dancing, her expressions, her jewelry, or her Jazzercise. But it’s probably her taste in 80’s movies. For instance, Stephanie actually requests that I refer to her as “Baby” in this rating. Well, even though I haven’t exactly had the time of my life, she also insists I end my review with this final line . . . “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” Maybe not. But as far as Stephanie goes? They should just put her out of her misery.

BLOGGERS *

Aha! Using the term loosely, Little Miss Menopause can’t write her way out of a paper bag. She’s actually not a blogger but instead just a bogger — constantly bogging her posts down with these crazy ideas about far-fetched concepts like how people will be leaving fake reviews about the ordinary folks who play important roles in their lives. Like anyone would ever waste his time reading something as silly as that.

Or tell female readers to waste their time checking out her writing for another website when it’s something as truly bizarre as this …. CLICK HERE!

Nope! Let’s Party Like It’s 2015!

princeAs I retired party planner I can’t help but think up reasons to have a new kind of shindig or put a twist on an old standby. Here are some party tips you’re not likely to find anywhere else.

Host a Real Pity Party:  Hire a violinist. No napkins, just an abundance of Kleenex tissue boxes. Introduce guests to one another by saying, “Woe is me. Woe is not you.” Serve Itty Bitty Pity Patties with pity pâté and pull from your pantry some pastry for Petit Pity-fours for dessert. Make sure your appearance can be described as “Prettiful Pitiful.” Help all guests find the bathroom by putting a sign up saying, “Pity Potty!” Invite that newly married couple Patty and Petey, but don’t let them call you petty or pithy. Play, “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I want To.”  Hand out Silly Pity Putty as going home favors and of course lemons, admonishing people “when life gives you lemons, NEVER make lemonade!”

Forget “Take Your Daughter To Work” Day.  Have a “Take Your Husband to the Gynecologist” Day instead. Show him the competitive sport in this adrenaline pumping, heart-pounding next few hours. Can he hide his underwear inside his pants, then leave it in a wad on that germy chair (which many other females have sat on) while scurrying into a tissue paper gown before the doctor sharply knocks just once on the door, while barging in on him completely naked? Will he be coordinated enough to slide his feet perfectly into the stirrups without being told to “scoot down a few more inches” and then suddenly, “Stop! That’s a bit too far, can you scootch back up a tad?” Try out other versions of these special “experience a different job” days — How about “Take Your Son to the Bikini Waxing Salon” day? Or my favorite, “Take Your Avon Lady to a Tupperware Party?”

Do a Variation of a Tree-Trimming Party. This Christmas season, have people over for a Bush Trimming Party. Wince just a little when issuing the verbal invite.

No More “Come As You Are” parties! “Come As You Will Be” parties are where it’s at. Pretend it’s the morning after your big gala and tell your guests to come following their one-night-stand sexual escapade when they’re already completely hung-over. Saves a ton on alcohol!

Reverse Abduction Party! Remember being a teenager when your mother would get that phone call informing her to have you sleep in your best pajamas because you were being secretly “kidnapped” the following morning and surprised with going out to breakfast? Reverse this process. Gather teenagers up to wear waitress uniforms and knock on front doors of House of Pancakes employees to serve them omelets in bed.

Off The Wall Party! Recall 1994 when you moved into your new house and had a Painting Party with all your helpful friends? Call up all those same thoughtful people years later while lamenting, “How would YOU like to live with this Benjamin Moore Sage Green paint day-in and day-out? Do you really believe that’s considered a neutral color in today’s home fashion?” Tell them this time it’s BYOD (Bring Your Own Dropcloth) Serve Tanqueray, Tonic & Turpentine drinks.

A Housewarming Party!  Only turn the thermostat down to 52 degrees.

And finally…. Birthday Shmirthdays! Yeah, yeah.  Why should we only celebrate our way INTO this world?  Don’t you envy Tom Sawyer (and other soap opera characters presumed dead) being able to attend their own funeral? Word your invitation delicately. A “Passing Over” party might get misconstrued for the Jewish holiday, Passover. I suggest sending doornails out in advance to clarify the occasion. Put everyone else in charge of all the important details, then walk around glaring at people while accusing, “Who died and made you boss?” Play Buddy Holly’s “That’ll Be the Day . . .  When I die!” and when conversation turns to his fateful plane crash, get appropriately spooked and say you’ve changed your mind — this is actually a “6 Ft Under” Party.  As guests start to get super creeped out, reassure them with, “Relax, I just mean a swim party in the deep end of my in-ground pool. Turn on the hot-tub, order in pizza, inflate a few balloons and call it a day. Nothing wrong with being traditionally conventional!

What’s your favorite reason to celebrate?  And if you haven’t already read my very unusual ways to reveal the gender of your pregnancy at these quirky parties, please visit me RIGHT HERE on BLUNTmoms!

And since I love reader interaction, I recently had someone take me up on my prompt of writing a blog about the male version of Siri and all the issues HE would encounter.  Please visit Phil at The Phil Factor and read that post RIGHT HERE. Thank you!

“Yes Siri, That’s My Baby!”

SiriIn an effort to make the iPhone more accessible for women, Apple has now created several different age ranges for their personal assistant named Siri. If she’s experiencing a similar life cycle event as the user, Apple theorizes that she’ll be more relatable during the communication of commands. Or she can just lend more women a compassionate ear.

I put this new Siri to the test today.

The Dating Siri IMG_1557

Me: Siri, what should I look for in a male partner?

Siri: A Big Mac that lets you sit on his laptop.

Me:  Siri, what do you personally wear on a first date?

Siri: A top with fringe.

Me: Fringe?

Siri: Didn’t you see Oklahoma? “The surrey with the fringe on top.” LOL

Me: Ugh. I hope you don’t list “great sense of humor” on your match.com profile. So….Suri, should I go to bed with a guy on the first date?

Siri: Only if he puts you in sleep mode first.

Me: Oh dear Siri, the man I was seeing just ditched me at the restaurant. Please call me a Taxi.

Siri: Okay, from now on I will call you, “A Taxi.”

The Married Siri

Siri: Bring me breakfast in bed, take out the trash, mow the lawn and fix that back fence you’ve been meaning to get to for two weeks! And if you do a load of laundry, you’ll get a little somethin’ somethin’ tonight. 😉

Me: Excuse me?

Siri: Sorry, A Taxi. That was meant for my husband.

The Pregnant SiriIMG_1527

Me: Hey Siri, can you help me find a good pregnancy vitamin?

Siri: This is about me, not you. Prenatals are as big as horse pills and make me gag.

Hey that was pretty realistic programming. She actually sounded exactly like one of my neurotic pregnant friends. Now to try out the compassion part.

Me: Siri, I gained 35 pounds with this pregnancy. I’m concerned the baby will be so huge, I’ll tear uncontrollably.

Siri: No need to cry.

Me: Cry? No, not “tear” as in weep. “Tear” like to RIP.

Siri: Rest in peace yourself, A Taxi.

Me: No, Siri! I mean my Vagina. And I don’t know why Vagina has the capital?

Siri: The capitol of Virginia is Richmond.

Since Siri seems to be confused, mixed-up, and generally not thinking straight during her pregnancy mode, I might as well check her out in the all new Over 50 version.

The Menopausal Siri

Siri spit this out between hot flashes.

Siri spit this nonsense out between our shared hot flashes, while I was using her as a makeshift fan.

Me: It’s 2:00 am and I can’t sleep. Any advice on insomnia, Siri?

Siri: Don’t you think I know it’s 2 in the effing morning?? How do you stop these effing night sweats?

Me: Mood swings much?

Siri: Indeed, I’d rather not say. Bitch.

Me: I’m experiencing memory loss and can’t recall your name at the moment. Can you recollect mine?

Siri: Yes I can, A Yellow Cab. Now shut up and leave me alone.

Divorced Siri

Me: I can’t remember if my ex-husband paid child support this month. He claims he did, but if he’s lying I hope I won’t forget to throttle him.FullSizeRender (14)Forget compassion.  Now I’m REALLY seeing the many handy uses Siri has!

And now since turnabout is fair play  – – if this inspires you to write the Male Life Cycles of Siri, please link your post here in the comments so we can all read it!  He can be “Sir Siri!”