Yearly Archives: 2015

Must You Be Sneaky to Become a Successful Blogger?

photo (13)No.  You just need to have a good memory to recall these devious tips.

7 Tactics That Truthful Bloggers Will Admit Trying

1.  Get Readers! — Let’s face it, most of us are not writing a diary here. We want our words seen by millions. Therapists claim we didn’t get enough “Show & Tell” in grade school. Try this — Join Facebook groups that have nothing to do with writing (otherwise you’re competing with other hungry bloggers) but make sure the group is at least in your niche.  Let’s say you are a food, gardening or fashion blogger. Or you blog about parenting.  Join those kind of special interest Facebook groups and then periodically post about a fantastic article a friend of yours sent and now you want to pay it forward and share the link. If you have a different profile photo on Facebook than the one on your blog, chances are nobody will correlate you are one in the same person.

2.  Start Your Comments Off On The Right Foot! — Did you just post something terrific and . . .  crickets? There’s nothing wrong with giving a little encouraging nudge to your readers with a comment (anonymously, of course!) from yourself that says, “This was pure genius! I seriously hope I get to be the first one to comment here about how good this was.”  Emperor’s New Clothes, people!  Rest assured, others will soon follow suit. Do not forget to respond back to yourself (you don’t want to be ignored, right??) with something like this.  “Much appreciated, Anonymous!  I hope you’ll come back and tell me your name so I can thank you properly.”  What?? We talk to ourselves when we’re alone in the car. What’s wrong with a little self-esteem raising banter on our blog?

3.  Visiting Other Bloggers! —  What goes around comes around. You must give in order to receive. Yada, yada, yah ha. If you want subscribers and engagement, surprise — you’ll need to subscribe and engage. But only subscribe or follow extremely succinct bloggers.  Better yet, bloggers who write in rhymed verse. Trust me, they can’t carry this out for too long.  This will cut your required daily reading in half.  Would you rather take a class on Emily Dickinson (she was a short poet, standing a mere 5 ft tall.) or Tolstoy? Alternatively if someone becomes too wordy for you, simply delve into the middle of their War and Peace entry and single out one sentence to quote. Go to their comments and copy/paste their own words back to them, followed by “Best. Line. Ever.”  People love seeing that.  Warning:  Do not excerpt something from the beginning or the end. They will suspect you didn’t really read the entire thing. The nerve of them.

4. Testing Your Readers For Sincerity! — Ever get the feeling “they’re just not that into me?” People might be reading/commenting just so you’ll follow the Golden Rule (see #3) and return the favor, taking an interest in what they do. Especially people in real life. Your sister probably doesn’t have time to TRULY read your blog, yet every so often she’ll toss out, “Hey, great post last week.” Then you can say, “Thanks, Sis!  Do you mean the one where I bought crunchy peanut butter and had to pick out all the lumps so the kids wouldn’t say Ew?” After she says, “Yep, that’s the one!” you can lower the boom. There was NEVER such a post. What kind of nut doesn’t buy smooth and creamy?

5.  Bring People Back to Life! —  Do you notice some original subscribers have died out or lost interest in visiting your blog. But is the love affair really over? Try this: Occasionally peruse your statistics list (this is akin to going through your personal telephone book, back when we had those) and when you see someone you haven’t heard from in a long time, immediately visit their blog and say, “hope you’re okay? Was just thinking of you yesterday,” in their comment section.  This will jog their memory about your existence and they will think, “Oh yeah. Her. I suppose I should probably go see what she’s been up to lately. Ho Hum.”  And then just like Poltergeist . . they’re baaaaack.

6. Get Even More Readers! — Ploys for this endeavor cannot be done too often. Put the link to your blog as an auto signature stamp on your email.  Suddenly become the best little email communicator in the world. This is like sending advertisements for your blog into their home without having to pay for postage.  Volunteer to send out class emails for the teacher and help your boss out at work with company memos. People love romance. Email an invitation for your wedding to everyone you’ve ever met. After traffic increases on your blog, simply break up with that creep. Put a “How’s My Driving?” sign on your car bumper with your blog address instead of a phone number. Weave in and out of traffic. Do not discount the idea of giving birth to more children. They will grow up to be more readers for you if you increase their allowance.

7.  Lists! — Nobody wants to read a plain paragraph anymore. So old school.  Go back into all your old posts and convert them to lists.  Anything you’ve written can easily be numbered, categorized, pro’d & conned or How To’d and it will instantly become fresh again. Didn’t your mother tell you to go through your wardrobe and sew on nice, new buttons to spruce things up? Don’t you put new knobs on your kitchen cabinets instead of refinishing them? Same thing here . . . “Bullets, baby!” And when you’ve exhausted making lists, by all means Compare and Contrast stuff. i.e. “How Marriage Is Similar to Divorce.”

You’re a Successful Blogger.  Which Ones Will You Admit to Doing? Tell me in the comments. 

If you enjoyed this, you’ll love my list of how Writing/Getting Published is Similar to Fifty Shades of Grey! Read it on the Huffington Post right HERE.

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

A Rose By Any Other Name . . .

hello!When I went to a networking meeting two weeks ago, I reached for a pen to fill out the “Hello, my name is . . . ” tag and instantly wrote down “Rose.” As I slapped “Rose” onto my chest, I thought WTF??

Yes, Stephanie is a three syllable name and does take longer to write down, but huh?!? So without any notice, I was “Rose.”

I was neither flowery nor thorny, and I certainly wasn’t Rose Kennedy . . .  nope. I was feeling very Titanic-y. Where was Jack Dawson?  “I want you to draw me like one of your french girls, wearing this. Wearing only this . . .”photo-74

In about an hour I was yawning, tired — evidently now channeling “Briar Rose” from Sleeping Beauty. But I was excited because I realized from this point on, I could be someone brand new each day!

Here are my results: 

Bernadette — Boy they sure clamoured around me at a cocktail party. (It might’ve been the platter of shrimp I was seated near)  They wanted to know if I spoke French? Finally I ended up giving a few people some legal advice after they twisted my arm and found out my closest friends know me as “Bernie the Attorney.”

Harmony — Barefoot in the supplement section of our local grocery market, three separate people (upon overhearing me answer my cell phone confidently with, “This is Harmony…”) asked me if I could recommend an herb for energy and tranquility.  “Well, if you gotta have both together then it needs to be organic, raw, whole, virgin, bitter, and very very green.” I said, knowingly.  “Vitameatavegamin!   Yes, without question, Vitameatavegamin will let you spoon your way to health. It’s so tasty, too. Just like candy.” Then I winked. There was no question in my mind who I was going to be the next day.

Lucy — As Lucy, I kept wanting to be in the sunlight so the reddish highlights in my dark hair might catch someone’s eye. But nobody really laughed at anything I said or did. Frustrated after telling each stranger my name and asking, “Don’t you love Lucy?” I overate a bunch of chocolate candies, stomped on a few grapes (no wine) and decided to look for Charlie Brown instead. The day was a total bust.  I fell asleep at night to Kenny Rogers crooning, “You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille.”

Mary – – This was an interesting pick for a nice Jewish girl. Although I was blessed once by two people as I sat in the Dr’s office waiting room, but in all fairness, I had just sneezed. I also was feeling cranky, grumpy and tired.  It could be the sore throat I’d been battling but quite frankly, I couldn’t stop thinking, “Mary, Mary, quite contrary…”  I needed to do something quickly to cheer myself up, so I began to smile really big and toss my hat up into the air.

 

Wouldn't it great to turn an entire world on with your smile?

Wouldn’t it great to turn an entire world on with your smile?

 

Minerva — Never having picked up a single Harry Potter book (or movie) in my life, I had no idea what I getting myself into with this name. I just wanted to sound smart. But it was too late. At the park, smart alec kids wouldn’t leave me alone. All sorts of questions about Hogwarts and Gryffindor and Muggles. Seriously? In one hour flat the name Minerva was getting on my last nerva and I immediately changed it to. . .

Grace — I resisted an urge to pirouette and arabesque right there in the sandbox, but quite honestly, elegance and class were now my middle name. I told all the confused children that I missed my calling and would catch them later, perhaps in the Royal Opera House and immediately went to a high tea where the waitress curtsied after I signed my name on the check. Perhaps I may have inadvertently scrawled the word “princess” before it.

Bertha— I didn’t think I’d last long as a Bertha.  I answered a few personal ads and nobody would write me back except one man who sarcastically responded, “Boy, I sure dig Bertha.” He asked for my measurements and I replied I didn’t know them, but offered to send him a photo instead. He wrote, “that’s okay, nobody can miss seeing you in Seattle.”  Seattle?  I googled “Bertha, Seattle” and decided that I was keeping this name for the entire day.  I needed to feel down to earth for once.

Mirabelle — I dunno. I always wanted to have “Belle” as part of my name.  Annabelle or Isabelle always captured my fancy, but Mirabelle just suddenly rang a bell.  I went to a different hair salon and wrote my name on the client log. When the stylist called out “Mirabelle” it took three times before I realized that was me, jumped and followed her back to her chair. She looked me over and told me that Mirabelle needed a pixie cut and maybe some spiky bangs. I got panicky and exclaimed, “My name is actually Stephanie!”  She shook her head, laughing. “Yeah, right.” I tossed my long hair indignantly, “Stephanie needs glamorous long curly tresses,” I insisted.  She cocked her head skeptically.  “And maybe some credibility?”  After informing me there was no way I looked like a Stephanie, I pleaded for her to just look me up online, read a few of my blogs, perhaps a Huffington Post.  “Oh,” she said suddenly getting it. “Let’s coax some of those natural gray highlights to show through, dearie.”

Gray? Dearie??  And in that moment, I realized with a long sigh — I would always be “Little Miss Menopause.”

Hey YOU!  What do YOU think is in a name?  Do you get upset when someone can’t remember yours?  UPDATE: As a bonus for leaving me a comment about this piece, if you tell me your first name, I shall tell you what I associate it with.  That’s highly valuable!

Guess Who?

photo (15)Remember the game where you snuck up behind an unsuspecting individual, covered their eyes and shrieked, “Guess who?” If your tuna smelling fingers didn’t give you away, your friend could whip their face around, instantly revealing your identity.

But suppose you could touch someone while staying incognito indefinitely?

Anonymous has been a presence that’s figured prominently throughout my life. Here’s how:

  •  In 2nd grade, a pretty and popular girl in my class received cards throughout the school semester from “Your Secret Pal.” You know those cutesy, colorful ones with little kittens or teddy bears saying things like, “Although you may not know my name, I think you’re terrific just the same!” She barely stopped to read them before running off to play dodge-ball because she was team captain. “Your Secret Pal” was probably shy, couldn’t spell anonymous, and was always chosen last.

 

  •  In 5th grade drama class, an unsigned note was placed on the teacher’s desk nominating me for the part of Dorothy. The ruby shoes were too small, so alas that juicy role went to Becky with the petite feet.

 

  • In middle school, lengthy letters were turned into the principal’s office, citing full names of students who were smoking marijuana in the bushes after school. Anonymous obviously did not want to be known as a ratfink.

 

  • In a college suggestion box for the university’s literary magazine, two stories were submitted as “Author Unknown.” One was published without credit or a bio. Anonymous must’ve thought the writing was either too awful or too fantastic to attach a name.

 

  • In my early 20’s, various anonymous tips were given to the local police department. One led to an apprehension of the thief who abandoned stolen cars. Being a Good Samaritan was dangerous.

 

  • In my late 20’s, I volunteered on a suicide hotline. On my night off, my co-worker answered the phone to a depressed caller who described fantasizing various ways of dying. The call was lost before logging in a name.

 

  • In my early 30’s for three Valentine Days in a row, several of my divorced girlfriends received boxes of chocolate marshmallow hearts left on their doorstep minus a card. They were cheered.

 

  • In my mid 30’s, a bouquet of red roses was delivered to our home on my birthday. It was signed “From Your Secret Admirer.” After a jealous tirade, my husband took up the new hobby of finally sending me flowers. Daffodils were his thing. One year he forgot our anniversary, but when a heart traced into the dust on my car’s windshield suddenly appeared, he was jolted back into the routine.

 

  • In my late 30’s, Anonymous attended 12 step programs. There was one for Eating Disorders, Emotions, Love & Sex, Codependency, and Addictive Personalities. Anonymous sat in the back and rarely spoke.

 

  • In my early 40’s, a therapist friend of mine mentioned she got a frantic email from an account she didn’t recognize, confessing an inability to take care of young children properly. She considered calling her supervisor or a social service bureau but there was no contact information.

 

  • In my mid 40’s, before caller ID, a lot of my married friends received anonymous phone calls with eerie silence. Anonymous probably wanted to hear what went on in their household during the few seconds before they hung up. Or was curious if husband and wife would accuse one another of having an affair.

 

  • In my late forties, anonymous donations were made to various charities. Children’s organizations, animal rescues, breast cancer were a few. Or a local theatre because Anonymous seemed to support the arts. Perhaps Anonymous thought the amounts were embarrassingly small. Or was worried they were large enough that other people would ask to borrow money.

 

  • In my mid-forties, Anonymous left fliers under doormats on cul-de-sacs, suggesting someone start a Neighborhood Watch program. I guess Anonymous didn’t want to be that someone.

 

  • In my late-forties, our large city newspaper published some anonymous letters to the editor taking a strong stand on issues ranging from childhood vaccinations to guns. Anonymous hates confrontation.

 

  • In the last year, comments from “Nobody” have occasionally surfaced on my humor blog. They generally single out a line of dialogue that’s hilarious or refer to me as The Queen of Comedy. They are never EVER unfavorable.

 

  • Now that I’m 50, Anonymous feels the need to claim accountability for more things. A cleansing of the soul, you might call it. An owning up to the past. All things neutral, good, bad or just plain odd.

Anonymous is responsible for six children, an aging mother, a home, a dog named Lola, a car, and a writing career. It’s about time Anonymous took responsibility for herself, don’t you think?

 

How I Shoved Valentines Down Everyone’s Throat!

photo-72And it tasted like Pepto Bismo. For a change of pace, I decided to catch my children off-guard with being festive this year. All it took was sending everyone an “adorable” Valentine’s app and a lot of Splenda packets to conjure up the sweetness in our lives for a day. At least that’s what I thought.  Guess they don’t call them Conversation Candy for nothing! Have a look . . .

Me: photo 4-11

 College Son:

photo 5-9

 Me:

photo 1-16

 College Son:

photo-69

 Me:

photo 3-10 Then my two younger kids chime in.

Daughter 12:

photo 4-12

 Son 10:

photo 5-10

 College Son:

photo 2-17

Me:

photo 3-12

 College Son:

photo 1-18 photo 1-8

Me:

photo 4-7

College Son:

photo 4-4

Me:

photo 3-3 photo 3-7

College Son:

photo 4-9 Sick of this son’s smart retorts, I send a heart to his twin brother with a love greeting . . .

Twin Brother:

photo 1-23

Me:

photo 2-22

Twin Brother:

photo 3-18 Finally my 17 year old daughter (who btw takes 45 minutes to decide what she’s gonna wear in the morning) decides to join in . . .

Daughter 17

photo 4-14

 College Son:

photo 4-16

 Me

photo 1-13

 College Son:

photo 5-6

Me:

photo 1-22 photo 4-15 photo 3-14

College Son:

photo 2-18

Me:

photo 4-5photo 2-9

College Son:

photo 5-4

Me:

photo 1-11

College Son:

photo 2-10

Son 10

photo 3-8 photo 2-13 photo 5-11

Daughter 17

photo 4-17

Me:

photo 3-17

Daughter 17:

photo 2-19

Me:

photo 4-20 photo 5-12

College Son:

photo-71

photo 1-17

Me:

photo 2-16

Frustrated, I decide to send the Valentine app to my boyfriend….

Boyfriend:

photo 4-3

Me:

photo 5-3

Boyfriend:

photo 2-21

Me:

photo 1-20

Boyfriend:

photo 2-20

Me:

photo 3-16

Boyfriend:

photo-70

Desserts backwards = Stressed.  Of course!  And look — this time playing Scramble was HIS idea. At least this confirms I’m with the right guy.

Hope your Valentine’s Day is a little more on task than ours! And now excuse me while I eat my own words…

15 Ways Getting Published & “Fifty Shades of Grey” are Similar!

photo (10)If you want to get published, it takes lots of passion and discipline to send your submission to fifty places. The stress may make you gray. Ironically, “Fifty Shades of Grey” is also all about passion, stress, discipline and submission. But you’ll be surprised to find there’s even more overlap! (Not including Christian Grey bending Ana over-his-lap)

 

  1. Christian Grey knows about ropes and is into Bondage. An editor knows the ropes and is into Beverage. (Red wine or coffee!)
  2. An editor has to scrutinize a submission. Christian Grey has “screwin’ eyes” for a submissive.
  3. Christian Grey’s hands are full of kink. A publisher’s hands are full of ink.
  4. Christian Grey will not tolerate Ana rolling her eyes during their contact. Editors will not tolerate you not dotting all your i’s in your contract.
  5. Christian Grey has masochistic tendencies. An editor has manuscriptic tendencies.
  6. Publishers want to own someone’s copyright. Christian Grey wants to own someone outright.
  7. Editors like to bold text the exciting snippets. Christian Grey likes bold sex and exciting whip-its.
  8. Your editor likes literary fiction, but will turn on you for using the passive voice. Cristian Grey likes friction, literally. And will get turned-on by a passive voice.
  9. Submitting means you want to be published. SUBmitting means you want to be punished.
  10. Most editors won’t like you writing off-the-cuff. Cristian Gray won’t like you, except writhing in handcuffs.
  11. In Fifty Shades of Gray, a safe word will end the pleading. In publishing, it’s safe to say the words “The End” end the reading.
  12. Editors want you to draft many versions. Mr. Grey wants you to drift into many perversions.
  13. Editors will ask how long you’ve been blogging? Mr. Grey will ask how long you want a flogging?
  14. Mr. Grey demands Ana sign a contract to consent to being erotic. An editor demands contact info with your content if she’s being neurotic!
  15. It makes Mr. Grey hard if Ana’s bound, with a nice gag.  Publishers will make a hardbound with a price tag.

Planning An Affair? (Carrying on with someone else when you’re married!)

photo-439Does anyone PLAN an affair? Not a black tie affair with music, food and dancing! This is for my followers who are okay with reading something different from me.  Back soon with some Valentine’s humor.

SO YOU WANT TO HAVE AN AFFAIR . . . 

You want to have an affair. You haven’t even been married long. Wait a sec, are you married or just roommates? You check and yep, your marriage license is in your nightstand drawer. The wedding video that cost $800 is covered with dust. No question — you’ve made a lifelong commitment.

But your current nights certainly give a good impression of being roomies. There’s even a posted schedule of whose turn it is to take out garbage and shop for groceries. Truth be told, you’ve been contemplating the idea of an affair for a long time and not because you’re having a mid-life crisis, envisioning a red sports car in your future.

No, this isn’t about low self-esteem. Quite the opposite. You deserve more. You deserve someone who understands, connects, responds — and “gets” you on a deep level.

You’ve been testing the waters lately, making more intense eye contact with attractive strangers. When they hold your gaze, you’ve felt that elusive thrill from your past. But your thoughts never go beyond this. Until today.

Today a pop-up window appeared for Ashley Madison. Their slogan — “Monogamy is monotony!” Clever. Maybe that’s a sign? Visions of hang-up phone calls, excuses to get milk (when it’s not even your turn!) and seedy motel rooms run through your head. You visit the website and there are many photographs. These people do not look underhanded, sleazy or desperate. They look like…you.

They talk of voids. “Mistakes, regrets and soul-searching” are other buzzwords. Everyone’s profile states they don’t want to change their current marital situation. They don’t want to hurt their lifelong partner or upset the family’s applecart. They just want to supplement their life. And above all, they want discretion.

You are attracted to several of the profiles, but there’s no way to contact them (even to innocently chat) without making a profile of your own. You could easily do this. You have that private email account. And amazingly enough, you have a nice photograph of just you. You wouldn’t even have to crop out someone else’s arm around you. You decide to do it. It’s just a couple hundred words describing your likes and dislikes, no big deal.

You’re careful to phrase things so people understand you haven’t done this before. You’re not a player. You’re just curious about what’s “out there.” When you’re done, you preview it and feel confident you’ll get lots of views and responses. You hesitate just for a moment before you click “Publish” but then do it very matter-of-factly. After all, you want to have an affair. Don’t you?

Later, your spouse is particularly upsetting which justifies your actions. Not listening to anything you say, but instead thinking up the next clever remark to interject while you’re still speaking. You’re tired of being talked over and around, so when you finally go to bed, you’re grateful there’s no talking at all. Carefully staying on your side of the bed, you don’t brush skin. Even accidental cuddling would elicit guilt.

You can’t sleep. Your new online mailbox is all you think about. In the den, the monitor glows eerily and after remembering your password, you’re rewarded (and flattered!) to find 6 new emails. Several of them try to be funny. They try too hard. One goes on and on, obviously totally self-absorbed. Who does that remind you of? One talks about extreme guilt, which you don’t want to be reminded of. Two of them gush over your photo and tell you they’d sleep with you tomorrow.

But really if this was just about sex, you could find that anywhere. After all, you’re attractive. Hell, there’d be zero risk of getting caught if it was just the physical release you were after. You can do that for yourself. And God knows, lately you have. A lot.

No, you’re trying to find that missing connection. You hate the term ‘soulmate’ but admit it fits here. The chemistry must be there, yes, but you’re seeking more. You write back to all six individuals. You ask questions. What brought them here? What are they looking for? What’s wrong with their marriages? You don’t ask anything you wouldn’t answer yourself.

You tell everyone to write back and confess something surprising, even shocking. You spend the next twenty minutes deleting emails, emptying recycle bins, erasing history as your other half sleeps in the next room. This is kind of daring, kind of thrilling and definitely an adventure into the unknown.

The next morning you can’t look your spouse in the eye, but interestingly, there’s no notice taken of that. Everything proceeds as usual and you’re off to work. In your office lobby, you look around and wonder how many people are having secret affairs? From the number of hits on that website, you’d venture 1 in 3 people do this.

Could it be her? Maybe him? Oh! You bet it’s those two over by the ATM machine. Maybe that one is even one of your actual responders… after all, the photo was faraway and blurry. You feel giddy. Your day flies by. You don’t dare check email from work because you’ve heard employers have ways of tracking these things. So you race home to log on and… Jackpot!

Nine new responses and four from the first batch have already written back. As per your request for surprising tidbits, there are some real shockers revealed. Someone is a physician who regularly sleeps with patients. Someone else is happily married and just looking to add a threesome to their routine and someone else has a gambling problem and just lost the house. Interesting how that one original respondent who was so cocky and self-assured hasn’t sent a photograph or admitted anything astonishing. All the rest are okay, but it’s those voids in that particular email that’s most intriguing. You ignore the others and pursue the individual who represents a challenge.

Two weeks pass and you’re wild with desire by the mystery profile. The witty flirtations have been like nothing you’ve experienced, well at least not since you first got married. This person truly “gets” you, which blows your mind because you’re so complicated. Sometimes you don’t even “get” yourself! And after all this time, you haven’t even seen a photograph, but this doesn’t matter because you’re officially obsessed. You can’t believe your spouse hasn’t noticed changes.

Computer time increases three-fold. You’re simultaneously jumpy, edgy, and euphoric. You’ve shopped for the perfect meeting outfit. There’s talk of an out-of-the-way place for cocktails but both people know that’s just a formality. Until you seduce one another physically, mirroring what’s already occurred emotionally online.

Today’s email is especially adorable and funny. An agreement has been made that when you meet, the long awaited photograph will finally be placed in your hand! Kinda ironic because when that happens, you won’t need a photograph. The email also promises you’ll be told what quality about you was initially the most attractive. How fun!

You write back that you can’t wait for this to happen. You delete that because it makes you sound needy. Instead you casually write back “perhaps our paths will cross one day, when we’re least expecting it.” You add that you’ll anticipate a photograph and the compliment when that time comes.

You log off the computer with a yearning sigh. You walk from the den into the next room where you literally bump into your spouse. As you look up into wistful eyes, a photograph is gently slipped into your hand. Your spouse softly whispers, “Hello. It was actually your honesty that originally attracted me the most.”

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

Are You Trying To Tell Me Something??

photo (11)We’ve all heard about the witty ways a man has proposed to a woman, like hiring a skywriter to spell out, “Marry me, Sue?” I always await Sue’s hiring a second airplane to quickly fly back and respond, “No. But that was dramatic.” and a moment later, “PS.  And you know I go by Susanne, you cheapskate.”

There’s the inevitable placing a “hamburger bun in a microwave oven” to announce a pregnancy when the in-laws come for dinner. And I’ve seen all sorts of ways to disclose the gender of the unborn child as well — from decorating the room entirely in pink and watching the surprise of your unsuspecting spouse (“don’t you know you should open a window when you paint a bedroom?!!”) to wearing a tee shirt with snakes, snails and puppy dog tails on it. Yuck.

But why stop there?

Creative Ways To Tell Or Ask Anyone Anything!

1)  “I ran over a nail and now I have a Flat!” — Put a photo on Facebook depicting your spouse’s overweight mid-section hanging over a belted pair of pants. Draw a notorious red circle with a slash mark over it (like from ghostbusters) Get it? “No Spare Tire!” Wait on the street to see which of your clever friends comes out to help you or calls roadside assistance on your behalf.photo 2 (3)

2)  “Please empty the kitchen trash to the outside cans!” — Find an old Oscar the Grouch stuffed animal or figurine and lay him on the top of the kitchen pail with a thought bubble that says, “Help me. Please bring me home.”photo 1 (4)

3)  “I don’t want to cook tonight.” — Take a tweezers and carefully remove the old fortune out of a chinese cookie.  Write on a new tiny slip of paper, “Confucius say, ‘Ain’t no food happening here. Come to Hunan Garden!'”  Stuff back inside the cookie and leave on empty plate in middle of table.

4) “Son, please clean your bathroom mirror.” — Write on teen son’s mirror in red lipstick, “Mommy loves her deliciously handsome boy forever!”

5) “I got promoted at the office!” — Get out a large step-stool and keep climbing up it. (Note:  It may be tempting to change a light bulb while you are at the top, but this will send the wrong message.)  You are going for “Climbing the corporate ladder.”photo (9)

6) “That’s it! You’re not doing that to me ever again!”  —  bring home a straw dispenser from McDonalds and make sure there’s only one more left.

7) “I’ve got the flu” — Photoshop a picture of yourself with a lot of rain clouds, a sun, some snowflakes, and a big gust of wind all on top of your head. Put on Facebook. Wait and see who brings you chicken soup first.

8) “Sorry dear, I have a headache so we aren’t having sex tonight like you thought.” — Blow bubbles and keep popping them, looking very regretful.

9) “We’re going to Disneyland!”  You can surprise your child with a special call from Mickey Mouse himself to announce the trip!  Details HERE  But if he hasn’t done #2 or #4 on this list, you might want to proceed to #10.

10) “Ha-Ha, Gotcha! You believed me when I actually made the whole thing up.”  Get out a really thick knit sweater and put it on over your child’s head, stopping right below their forehead so they can’t possibly see anything through it.  After they realize you just “pulled the wool over their eyes,” be sure and blow some more bubbles and pop them ever so regretfully.

11.  “Little Miss Menopause, you’re cruel and your blog is awful. We’re finished!” — Go into WordPress preferences and uncheck the “Follow this blog” box.  Or you could just send me a break-up pizza instead?

photo (8)

 

What are some unusual ways you have announced something?

 

 

 

 

 

How To Be SUPER Popular at the Super Bowl Party! (even if you don’t know football)

Don't Make this! Nobody is gonna thank you enough for the time you spend on these goal posts!

Don’t Make this! Nobody is gonna thank you enough for the time you spend on these goal posts!

HOPE FOR THE IGNORED GUEST!  DON’T BE LEFT OUT ON THE SIDELINES!

1. Make Guacamole. Just do this. Trust me. Even if you’re out of avocados. Use kiwis. These people won’t notice – – they’ll just keep dipping and dipping while hollering at that TV . . . The Big Dips.

2. Never say this – – “I don’t know why you folks don’t just record this stuff and watch it later so you can fast forward through all these silly commercials.” Never. Ever.

3. Football fans are an exuberant bunch. But they know their terminology. Before you attempt to chime in during an actual live play of the ball game, experiment with a commercial. (see # 2 to grasp the importance of Advertising) Try the following options: A) Clap uproariously at a Clydesdale. B) Shout, “Hold ’em! That’s the way!” to a Victoria’s Secret model. C) Throw a chip at the television and say, “Doritos?! They suck this year! My money’s on the Lays.”  D)  Boo loudly at “Go Daddy!”  They deserve it.

4. Casually introduce conversation with, “So how about that Joe Namath?” If this doesn’t get the reaction you are looking for, tell them you were a cheerleader for your brother in Pop Warner leagues. Note: This will only be effective if you can produce a photo. Still nothing? Remind them you brought the guacamole.

5. Wait until intermission to pass out copies of your latest Huffington Post blog. In case you don’t recognize when that occurs, it will be called, “Half Time.” One whole game = four quarters or two halves or forty nickels. I am still not sure if a Susan B. Anthony silver dollar might fit in with their formula or not.

6. If you are tired, don’t be offensive and yawn. Play defensively! Simply look at the clock (lower right hand side of the television screen) and if it says (only!) 2 minutes and thirty seconds are left in the game, you will now have time to play an entire game of Monopoly.

7. Look around for other wives and girlfriends that have that “I’m so bored, I could throw-up” green pallor on their face. Look closely. This could just be the guacamole. Engage them in a fashion review of the game. Tell them that you think shoulder pads and tight ankle pants are so 80’s. Casually remark, “Hey, I know what!! Let’s go in the other room and compose a Match.com ad for ourselves.”

8. You will eventually need to choose a side and root for them. Lemme help you. If you don’t mind rainy weather, I’d go with the Seahawks. Feeling patriotic? The Patriots are your men! Just don’t cheer for the guys with the black and white vertical pinstripes — they usually just stand around a lot.

9. Right about now, you’re probably ready to toss out some authentic, sporty vocabulary during the actual game. Wait until the room is in some sort of an uproar over a bad call, then holler, “A noose, a tree . . . let’s hang the referee!” It’s always safe to pick on a man who doesn’t weight 285 lbs, carries a whistle, and speaks in pantomime.

10. If none of this is working for you, continue nodding and being polite, offering all the uptight, nervous pacing men (and other guests who come in late) your spot on the sofa. Do this until every seat in the house is taken and you have to sit on the toilet in the bathroom. Bring guacamole.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday!

PS.  If you’re still bored watching the game, you can read my very first SERIOUS published article on The Huffington Post right HERE.  It’s about divorce.

A Dozen UNIQUE Cell Phone Camera Ideas … Because Life is Meant To Be Hacked

photo (7)I don’t own a regular camera so I was very interested in the unusual ways you can use your cell phone to capture “the moment.” I’ve now thought up ways that even Kodak would consider obsessive.

I know you’ve probably used yours to take inventory of what’s in your suitcase before traveling,  or even photographed your car so you remember where to find it at the shopping mall. Fun times. The attendant loves driving me around in his little security cart playing “Auto Findo” based on the crooked, blurry shot of my license plate adjacent to a trash dumpster. And if I weren’t Jewish I would use it to record where the Easter eggs were hidden so I wouldn’t have stale jelly beans under my television stand when Christmas came around. Don’t think about that one too long. I also don’t fish so there’s no sense in using it to remember which part of a stream the abalone were biting last week. See why I don’t fish?

So now without further ado . . . (and really what IS “Ado?” Can we capture it on film?)

 

Little Miss Menopause’s Unique (but not necessarily useful) Cell Camera Idea List

1)   While at the beach or pool, check out your backside to make sure you’re not getting sunburn. Then photograph other sun worshipper’s backs to prove to them they’ve had enough.

2)  When you loan out a book or a power tool to someone, take their picture holding the item so you’ll remember who has it. Pretty soon word will get out and unattractive friends will stop asking to borrow from you.

3)  Record for posterity the exact level of ice-cream in a partially eaten half gallon container before the babysitter comes over so you have evidence.

4)  Capture the covers displayed on your bathroom magazine rack when you have a clogged toilet so you can make sure and put different issues out next time the plumber visits.

The plumber wishes you would put Playboy out.

The plumber wishes you would put Playboy out.

5)  Snap your last haircut so you can bring it back to the stylist next time and insist she do it the exact same way. Alternatively, bring it to a new beautician and admonish her never to cut your hair like that. Ever.

6)  Take a picture of the hot/cold lever in the shower so you remember how it’s swiveled for just the perfect temperature. Do the same thing with the little dial on your toaster after you’ve crisped the perfect bagel.

This is a shower for Goldilocks! Not too hot, not too cold -- Just Right!

This is a shower for Goldilocks! Not too hot, not too cold — Just Right!

7)  Take a selfie of yourself thru a peephole of a front door so you know how far back to stand, what angle you should tilt your head, and how widely you should smile to make the best (concavely distorted) first impression.

8)  Click yourself each time you go to a funeral so you’re not wearing the same outfit. Do you want the dearly departed to think you only own one black dress?

9)  Take a picture of your child’s pouting/frowning face so next time you threaten that it will freeze that way, you will be able to illustrate.

10) Keep all photos of you, your friends and relatives (at concerts, parties, vacations) caught blinking and post them all online in an album called, “My New Narcolepsy Support Group.”

11) When your kids ask you to buy certain cookies or a junky cereal that you don’t want them to have, move all of this product aside in the grocery store and take a picture of the empty shelf (with price tag) to show they sold out. “Sorry, there was a big run on Lucky Charms cereal this week, guys.”

12)  Take a selfie both laughing and frowning – decide which expression causes the least amount of wrinkles.  Assume that expression 100% of the time during any emotional outburst.

There you go!  Now you can forget about using your cellphone as a mirror, that’s completely old school.  You have a dozen new ways to make your life more interesting.  And here’s a bonus.  Always forgetting where you leave your cell phone?  Take a picture of the location that you’re about to set it down in. Ta Da!  Don’t think about that one too long either.

Which one is your favorite? How about you?  Any unusual ways you’ve used your camera or video?

*See what I’m talking about on The Huffington Post just today (especially if you need a refresher course in driving!)  Click HERE.

 

Blogs R’ Us! (Almost Famous!)

photo-67Have you heard?  They are casting a new television show that will portray real life bloggers in their online funny personalities!  Eagerly filling out the application right here, I was disappointed to get an email back from the Big Wig in charge (at CBS no less!) saying I wasn’t quite what they were looking for. However, I wouldn’t let that stop me.  After seeing a therapist for my recent issues, I have a new found self-assurance in my creative talents.

If blogs are coming to television and they are already in the movies with films like Julie and Julia, surely there’s room for one or two more? The producer reluctantly agreed I could drop by today at 4 pm to present a few of my Blog concepts for Hollywood and some original titles.  I could just feel it – – I was about to become a television star.

Now you must understand something — I don’t want to be famous for me. That’s not it at all.  It’s my teachers from elementary school that never got any recognition that I’m thinking of. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to have a show similar to Oprah’s where I can bring one onstage each week, while shouting, “Yoo hoo, Mrs. Gretchanbaum from 4th grade, come on out.”

I got a little lost inside the thirteen story building, but finally found the correct place and was surprised to find a “Blogs R Us” sign displayed on their door.  Wow, CBS must really be serious about bringing blogs to tv to have their own suite dedicated just for that.  It was warm and cozy inside with a fireplace in the entryway.

“Trust yourself and don’t take no for an answer,” was my new mantra after seeing my confidence-building therapist just this morning. As soon as I spied an important executive standing nearby I launched right in, belting out the words I’d rewritten to Gilligan’s Island:

“Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale,

A tale of a fateful blog,

That started from this quirky mind

After clearing her brain fog!”

When I concluded with my grand finale, “Here on Bloggagan’s Island!” they looked positively dazzled — so I continued without missing a beat to share some of my other ideas for titles.  I figured I would start with the classics:

  • I Blog Lucy
  • Captain Bloggeroo
  • Bloggie and Harriet
  • The Bloggerly Hillbillies
  • The Blog Newhart Show
  • Blogwitched
  • I Dream of Bloggy
  • Blogger Knows Best
  • The Bloggymooners
  • Leave It to Blogger
  • Blognanza
  • The Bloggy Bunch
  • Bloggie’s Angels
  • Laverne & Bloggy
  • Hill Street Blogs
  • Hawaii Blog-O
  • The Blog Boat
  • Welcome Back Blogger
  • Who’s The Blog?

Their expression darkened a bit however, and me being such a quick judge of age, I decided to throw out shows more from their generation than mine:

  • The Blogs of Hazard
  • The Blogsby Show
  • Blogney and Lacey
  • Bloggie Howser MD
  • The Fresh Prince of Blog-Air
  • Third Blog from the Sun
  • Bloggerly Hills 9021 . . .

“Sorry, who are you again?” A crowd started to form in the lobby.

“I’m Little Miss Menopause, but never mind the Little, I’m about to become the next Big Thing!”

“I believe that.”  He glanced at my figure.

“Please.  You haven’t heard the best one.  Blogfeld!  A show with a blog about nothing. Naturally I think I would be perfect for that one.”

“What’s she talking about?” A woman whispered.

“She seems to be under the impression we’re looking for television shows.”

In that moment I knew my approach was all wrong.  It was movies they wanted.  For the big screen.  Of course!  I switched to my best Scarlett O’Hara impression, “Oh Rhett . . .Where shall I go?  What shall I do?”

“Gone with the Blog!”  Someone shouted this out while snapping their fingers excitedly, as if playing Charades.

Whatever.  It was “Gone With the Words.”  But if they liked the other, I’d sell that too.  I took a deep breath and spouted out the rest. . .

  • The Wizard of Blog
  • Casablogga
  • King Blog
  • The Blog of Frankenstein
  • Sunset Blogavard
  • It’s a Wonderful Blog!
  • Invasion of the Bloggy Snatchers
  • Rebel Without a Blog
  • All the President’s Blogs
  • One Blogged Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
  • Night of the Living Blog
  • Seven Blogs for Seven Bloggers
  • The Blogfather
  • Blogshank Redemption
  • Rosemary’s Bloggy
  • The Lord of the Blogs
  • Bloggers of the Lost Ark
  • A Blogwork Orange
  • Who’s Afraid of Virginia’s Blog?
  • The Blogs of Wrath
  • Groundblog Day
  • The Silence of the Blogs
  • Smokey and the Blogette
  • Lawrence of Bloggia
  • To Kill a Bloggingbird

I paused to inhale.

“She forgot the classic horror movie, ‘The Blob.’  Would be really easy to tweak that.”

I gave her a dirty look.

“Look just give me a chance.  If it’s children’s movies you’re after, I have . . .

  • Mary Bloggins
  • Snow White and the Seven Blogs
  • Bloggy & the Beast
  • Bloggatouille
  • Honey, I Shrunk the Bl . . .

“Excuse me.  There seems to be some mistake.  We are NOT a production company for television OR movies.”

“You’re not?  But the sign on your door?”

“Oh, did they put that letter “B” up there again?  Every time the “B” falls off the sign on “CBS Studios” upstairs, the janitor mixes up the floors and puts it on our door instead.  We’re “Logs R’ Us.”  We sell everything you need to start a fire!”  He picked up a black iron poker as I moved toward the door.

photo-437

I took the stairs because it would be faster than the elevator. I arrived just as a salesman was walking out carrying a bunch of grates and fireplace screens.

“I’m here to pitch you some new blog concept shows,” I announced with the same enthusiasm I had downstairs.

“You’re too late,” the CBS executive said, humming ‘Come on Baby, Light My Fire.’  “That man you just saw leaving.  He works downstairs at “Logs R’ Us” and he was on fire with the ideas.  He just sold us  “Towering Blogferno” and “Blogdraft.”  They’re going to be hot BlogBusters at the Blog Office!”

Did I tell you I’ve always wanted to be a famous songwriter for Elvis? But you must understand — it’s not for me…it’s for this new blogging generation who doesn’t get to appreciate all his outdated songs.  Let’s see, there’s . . .

  • You Ain’t Nothing but a HoundBlog!
  • Heartblog Hotel
  • Jailhouse Blog
  • Suspicious Blogs…