Category Archives: Blogging Humor

How to “Blogvertise” and Create a “Blogan!” (A Slogan for your Blog)

Two all Beef Bloggers, special sauce, lettuce, cheese....

Two all Beef Bloggers, special sauce, lettuce, cheese….

In order to become a less obscure author, I was told to start a blog.  Check.  Then I was told to “Brand Myself.”  Check. Even though that conjured up images of U-shaped hot irons and cattle ranches, I did my best.  I called myself, “Little Miss Menopause.”  I titled my blog, “Once Upon Your Prime” and originated the tagline, “Live Happily Ever Laughter.”

Then the old people started to come.  Probably because of this post, “How to be a New Blogger and Not Sound Like an Old Codger.”  Which was fine.  I love old.  I am old.  But I wanted a greater variety of readers.  I added a purple feather boa.  I thought purple feathers would bring out the fashionistas, the younger women who dance with purple feather boas, and the men who like the younger women who dance with purple feather boas. Or just fans of the movie, “The Color Purple.”   Or just fans of any movie!  But nope, still old people.

Having no experience in public relations, (and before I put up my new tagline, “Menopause.  It’s what’s for dinner!”)  I decided to consult a young, pretty, hip professional marketing exec who specialized in this branding stuff.

Let’s meet “Brandy, The Bragging, Brooding, Borderline Blog Brander,” and listen in on some Brainstorming.

Brandy:  So first of all, lose the Feathers and the Purple.  You’re attracting old ostriches and Barney the Dinosaur.  Second of all, you need a different photo of yourself.

Me:  But all my photos resemble me.

Brandy:  That’s gonna be a problem.  Okay, let’s take it from the top.  You must establish positive associations with your blog.  So can you change your name to “Miss Monopoly?”  It’s got many of the same letters as Menopause but people like “Old Board Games” much more than they like “Old Bored Dames.”

Me: (ignoring)  Listen, I used to work in real estate and when we wanted to elicit lots of interest in a home, we’d hold an open house.  Bake cookies, spray cinnamon fragrance, and tell the owners to put away all the old furniture and photographs so people could envision it as their own.

Brandy:  Perfect advice.  Hide your photo.  And cookies?  Not a bad idea.  You could do a Blog giveaway.  A prize for each person that signs up to Follow you.  What do you have of value to offer?

Me:  I’m a writer – – I could offer to name a character after every person that comments on my blog.  My next topic will be the “101 Dalmations” so if I could just get  101 New Readers who like polka dots, I could name each dog after. . .

Brandy:  That’s a bit spotty.  I’m not feeling it.

Me:  Alright.  Well, when I worked in the mall, we always had coupons and specials which brought in large crowds.  I could say,  “Read one Blog, Skim the Second One in Half the Time?”  Or I could hold a “Going Out of Blogosphere” sale.  Everything must Go!  How about, “Now with Double the white space and images,” plus  “Two Scoops of Pronouns in Every Paragraph!”

Brandy:  (big sigh)  Okaaaay, that’s just Blawkward!

Me:  There’s always the old “Bait & Switch?”  That always worked in retail.  I’ll write a new post titled,  “I Came In With A Wrecking Ball,” but when readers click on it,  they’ll be automatically redirected to my real blog called, “I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up.”  That’s genius.

Brandy: That’s oblognoxious.

Me:  Oblognoxious?

Brandy:  You know.  Blogappalling.  Blogawful.  (yawn) But the Super Bowl was recently on television.  A clever commercial might just work for you.

Me:   Make my writing a product? You mean like, “Blog Cabin Syrup?”

Brandy:  Too sappy.

Me:  I’ve got it!  Maybe my blog can have familiar famous sound effects.  Like when you click on the home page, it “Snaps, crackles and pops!”  Or it fizzes and plops like Alka-Seltzer, or honks two times like Aamco.  Wait!  It could even giggle like the Pillsbury Dough Blog.

Brandy:  Girl, that really takes the Biscuit.

Me:  Okay, how about, “Just When you Thought it was safe to Read my Blog” or  “In Cyberspace, Nobody can Hear You Scream!”  Or my favorite, “If  You Blog It, They Will Read.”

Brandy:  You’re not a movie.  Keep it simple.  “Mmm, Mmm, Good,” or  “Have it Your Way.”

Me:  I’m not a bowl of soup or a burger either.  You’re not very supportive and you seem pretty useless for a Professional Brander from Brandeis University. ”

Brandy:  Well I’ve got news for you, Sistah – – you shoulda never left real estate or your salesgirl day job in the mall.  You’re Blogatrocious.

Me:  Listen, Brandy the Brander – – I don’t think you help people brand themselves at all.  I think you just sit around and coin new Blogadjectives.  I could do far better on my own, just by making a list of Slogans or Catch Phrases for people’s blogs.

photo-190

        Blogans For Your Blog!

1.  It Keeps Blogging…and Blogging….and Blogging….

2.  Got Blog??

3.  “Where’s the Blog??”  (need cranky, old woman mascot for this one!)

4.  We’ll Leave the Blog on For ya.

5.  Blog all that You Can Blog!

6.  Melts in Your Mind, Not on Your Screen

7. A Blog is a Terrible Thing To Waste!

8.  Home of the Blogger

9.  Oh, What a Blogging!

10.  Does she Blog or doesn’t she??

11.  A Little Blog’ll Do Ya!

12.  Takes a flogging but keeps on Blogging.

13.  You Deserve a Blog Today

14.  Make a Run for the Blogger

15.  My Blogna has a first name, it’s B-L-O-G.

16.  Like a Good Blogger, WordPress is there!

17.  Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Blogiful.

18.  I’d Like to Build the World a Blog…

19.  If you Don’t Blog all over the place, You’ll Just end up blogging on My Space.

20.  I Can’t Believe I Blogged the Whole Thing!

21.  The Blogfast of Champions!

As for a Blog Promotion — every time you read my blog, feel free to have a little Brandy.  The liqueur, not the Brandy Bimbo quoted above.

Seriously, If you leave me a comment or start to follow my blog, (just let me know if you’d like me to) and I’ll think up a new “Blogan” for your Blog too!

List of Sneaky Ways to Find Out If You Really Know Someone!

Which side of the "Black and White" cookie do they prefer? Very telling about their Ethics!

Which side of the “Black and White” cookie do they prefer? Very telling about their Ethics!

Disclaimer:  This blog title does not specify just how many sneaky ways are on the list. (i.e  TEN Sneaky Ways…) This gives me leeway and freedom to add some more. Depending on how obsessive you are about knowing the whole story, you may need to keep checking back.

HOW IS THIS LIST DIFFERENT FROM OTHERS?

Sure, the internet is filled with lists of topics that you should discuss together prior to getting serious with someone.  We all know you should talk about how you both feel regarding:   a) Children  b) Pets  c) Finances  d) Household Chores  e) Frequency of Sex  f) Location of residence g) Dark chocolate    and so many other subjects, but still.  Really??  Is that supposed to give you an accurate and true litmus test of whether this person is right for you?  Aren’t we all still in the “Put my best foot forward” mode until the minute we walk down that aisle?  And what woman is going to admit that putting her best feet forward entails having a $1500 pair of Louboutin shoes on them?  Would you confess to someone (if you want them to continue seeing you in a good light) that the only reason you donate to a charity is to get those cute little personalized return address labels?

Every time I hear a couple’s relationship has fallen apart because “she isn’t the same person she was when we dated,” I nod my head knowingly.  She (or he) did NOT change.  They simply couldn’t keep the lovely sales presentation going forever.  It’s exhausting.  There must be a way to cut through the facade earlier!

When I date, I use my own unique version of a “Sincerity Test.”  It involves making up a joke that doesn’t have a real punchline.  When I tell it, I pause and then watch to see if they will do “that pretend laugh thing.”  Here’s the most recent joke.  “What do you call a woman who won’t do windows? An Adult Film star on ice-skates!”  Get it ??!   Some laugh uproariously.  A few will look quizzically and ask me to either tell the joke again or explain the bizarre ending.  Those are the ones I date again.  And then tell another joke. . .

So without any further ado, may I present….

SOME SNEAKY WAYS TO FIND OUT ABOUT THE REAL PERSON YOU THINK YOU ARE WITH!

1. Forget Monopoly (and whether or not they cheat by stealing money from the bank.)  Play Scrabble with them instead.  Form a seven letter nonsense word.  Do they insist on the Dictionary Challenge?  (Trust Issues.)

2. Text them from a cell number they don’t recognize and flirt with them anonymously. Do they flirt back? (tests paranoia)  While flirting, text them a joke WITHOUT a real punchline that you’ve already told them before.  (Tests Memory.)

3. Go to a Chinese restaurant together.  But forget how your partner treats the hired help.  They already know you’ll be watching for how much kindness they show the waitress.   Instead notice if they miss a tiny piece when picking the mushrooms out of the Shrimp Szechuan?  (Tests for Attention to Detail.  Also shows if they can tolerate a rubbery textured gross fungus. Eww!)  Do they hand you your own particular fortune cookie or let you choose it for yourself from the plate?  (Control Issues.)  Do they add on, “In bed” after reading their fortune aloud?  (Shows a propensity toward major Kink!)

4. Knock on their front door.  Immediately throw dirt on their carpet.  Gage reaction.  Anything less than a chuckle is bad news.  (No sense of humor.)  Everyone knows this is a funny bit from one of the greatest “I Love Lucy” episodes ever.

5. Ask them if they prefer Mary Ann or Ginger?  Mrs. Brady or Mrs. Partridge?  Kramer or Newman?  Starsky or Hutch?  Wilma or Betty?  Scarlett or Melanie?   (Tests gullibility and logic factors….do they really believe Mary Ann can bake coconut pies without any flour on the island?  The rest of the choices just tests for television addiction. Except the last one.  It’s a 4 hour feature length movie with the most handsome guy ever.  Tests their “Clark Gable Tolerance” level.)

6.  Snickerdoodle or Oatmeal?  Fudge or Peanut Brittle?  The black or white side of a Black and White Cookie?   This doesn’t tell you anything about their character whatsoever,  but you will have clarity about whether you should walk into a bakery with them.

7.  Ditch them in a large department store and then page them over the loudspeaker by your pet name, “Will Pookie, Snookie Cookie please come to cashier number 8 please?  Your Doodle, Noodle, Kitten Caboodle is waiting for you.”  (Shows tolerance for PDA.)

8.  Hold a garage sale with them.  Will they part with their kid’s old shoes?  (Sentimentality test)  Will they mark down those same junky shoes to a reasonable price? (Shows realistic expectations.)

9.  Do they say “Bless You” when a stranger sneezes?  (No?  Shows lack of goodwill toward mankind.  Yes?  May be a religious zealot.)

10. Tell them this Valentine’s Day there is a big surprise waiting for them in your bedroom. But you’ve hidden your front door key inside one of those pretend, “Hide-a-key” stones.  In your rock garden around the side of the house. (Tests perseverance)  Text them back and tell them you meant to say “under the door mat.” Remove the mat. (tests Patience)  Call and tell them to look in the mail.  Remember to place your doormat inside the mailbox first.  With a note attached that says, “Door has already mysteriously opened by itself.”  (Tests whether they’d be a good audience for a magician show.)

The following items on the list must only be implemented when you are not around.  You need to find out how they behave when they are alone.  You’ve heard it said to “Dance like nobody is watching!” Right? Well, I will soon be marketing a motorized “Fly on the Wall” with a camera and mic hidden discreetly inside, so YOU CAN be watching.

11.  Do they wash their hands in a public bathroom when they are the only ones in there?

12.  In a private dressing room inside Target, will they keep their underwear on when trying on a bathing suit?

13.  When they walk their dog on a dark street at night, do they still clean up after them?

14.  Do they tailgate people who drive super slowly in the fast lane on the freeway?  What happens when they realize they are old people and have already given them the finger?

15.  Will they stop at a lemonade stand run by little kids?  Will they overpay and lick their lips at the sugar water?  Or do they demand their change, telling the child there should really be a cookie to go with the lemonade at these prices.

16.  When watching Old Yeller, do they cry at the ending?

17.  Do they drink from the family milk carton in their refrigerator when they just want a little sip?

You should try at least five of these prior to Valentine’s Day before you send the flowers or the chocolate.  And remember # 4   is  a major deal-breaker.  EVERYONE  loves  Lucy.

Footnote:  If you are surprised by how sneaky I am, it means you have not read this ( SNEAKY BLOG  ) photo-129and probably should peruse it before you make the final decision of whether to follow my writings.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!

The Quests For Smaller Breasts

photo-185Disclaimer: Contains a lot of silly wordplay concerning breasts while I attempt to make light of a subject that has been truly anguishing.  To read a serious and profoundly potent post on the same subject, please go to this amazing writer’s blog right here.

“Well, HELLO DOLLY!” (You know the tune?)

When I was 15, a boy inquired about going to the junior prom, never once taking his eyes off my enormous bosoms.  I told him, “Oh yes, they’d be delighted to go.” His baby blues widened as I continued, “They’ll be ready by 7 pm, but you need to return them safely back home and attached firmly to my torso by midnight.”  His eyes grew bigger than any saucers my breasts could ever fit into. “Or else….” I hesitated for dramatic effect, “they’ll turn into pumpkins!” I couldn’t resist.  His eyes exploded.

After that incident, boys continued to never look into my eyes while speaking to me, (but rather preferred to fix their stare a good 10 inches below) which prompted me to think about gluing those craft store Googly Eyes onto my blouse in strategic spots.

Hey listen . . . . . . .

“Where’s your wheelbarrow?”

“Your cup runneth over!”

“Are melons in season?”

“Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder!”

There isn’t a boob joke or cat-call I haven’t heard before.  In the past few months, this humor blog has helped me lighten up with heavier issues than my breasts, so I’m going to give it a shot today – –  being that I’ve had a breasted vested interest in the subject matter.

When you’re just 13 years-old and already making Dolly Parton look inadequate, you quickly learn that intelligent people who say, “Your bra size doesn’t matter, only brain size matters,” are just plain . . .  Stupid.  First of all, if you’re big busted, you WILL be perceived as a bimbo, regardless of your IQ.  Don’t believe me?  Try these 10 easy steps:

1.  Fill two plastic bags with granulated sugar, each weighing 5.5 lbs and place them in your shirt  (Yes, that was EACH.  Check it out here .)

2.  Go out tonight.

3.  Oh, but first go bra shopping.

4.  Bypass all the sweet, delicate, lacy little bralettes you see in the front of the store.

5.  March up to a saleswoman and tell her you would like to (use the term “like to” loosely) try on a steel reinforced Chest of Armour in a size 38 Double . . . and then whisper the cup size.

6.  Watch other women in the store turn to “envy” you.  Slap forehead and say, “Darn!  I just knew I shoulda ordered them in a smaller size when I was in that uterus.”

7.  Then try explaining to these other women about a) backaches b) shoulder pain c) not being able to sleep comfortably d) or exercise, e) combating extreme male crudeness f) your fear that someone will set a vase of flowers on your boobs, mistaking them for a fireplace mantle shelf. And g) well, “G” is your cup size.

8.   Be prepared for these other women to shake their heads at your complete ungratefulness and proceed to bemoan the horrors of being a size A cup.

9.   Nod politely and agree that yes, the grass is always greener. Or the bras are always better, on the other chest.

10.  Go home and cry  – – while fantasizing about carving pumpkins.

During high school, while girls on the Itty Bitty Titty Committee (remember that?) were saving up to buy a new set of wheels or a graduation trip to Hawaii, (in an “itty bitty, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot” you know what)  I was squirreling away my allowance for breast reduction surgery.  But it wasn’t looking good.  My very protective father had already declared that, “No doctor was taking a scalpel to his small, little girl.”  Bless his heart with his choice of adjectives.

So I did what any typical female would do when something was “too large” on her body.  I dieted to reduce their size.  And I did lose weight, even though I didn’t really need to.  You can get quite disciplined when your only option of a swimsuit for the beach looks like something your grandmother would have worn.  Circa 1929.

Figure 38 H

Figure 38 H

You can see just how well Weight Watchers worked out for me (with addressing this issue) by referring to Figure 38 H to the left (yes, that’s “H” now!)  Only add more of a frowny face to this diagram.

Now it was time to try the opposite tact.  This time I ate a lot more food to attempt to camouflage them in excess weight.  But they only inflated.  While I was toying with the idea of trying a sharp pinprick,  (would I zoom crazily airborne around the house like a balloon? )  I happened to meet a nice boy.  By this time I was exhausted from trying to change mother nature, (but you know what they always say, “No breast for the weary”) and decided acceptance was my only answer.

Luckily, this boy was soft-spoken and at age 17, helped me cultivate somewhat of a sense of humor about them.  He called me his “Little Treasure Chest.”  Compared to the names I heard walking by a construction site, this was definitely a breast of fresh air!  One afternoon he leaned back comfortably against me, his head cradled between – – well you know – – singing along to that hit Police song, “Every breast you take….every move you make,”  when suddenly he announced that if he installed a couple of stereo speakers in them, he’d have himself a boob tube with Dolby Surround Sound headphones.  That was it.

“You know what?” I asked.  He waited with baited breast breath.  “Give it a breast  rest already!  You and I are done.”  What a jerk, thinking he could just lie back and breast on his laurels.  Ha – – he wasn’t the only one with good breast puns.

My version of a "Spaghetti Strap" dress! But I couldn't have worn this pretty "Pasta Prom" dress either! No Siree, Bob! (ps. His name wasn't Bob!)

My version of a “Spaghetti Strap” dress! But I couldn’t have worn this pretty “Pasta Prom” dress either! No Siree, Bob! (ps. His name wasn’t Bob!)

Besides, I couldn’t have gone with him to my Senior Prom even if I wanted to. Why?  Because Spaghetti Strap dresses were all the department stores sold.  Could I wear that style ??  Fat chance!  Not even with a dozen spaghetti strands. (as pictured at left!)

Fast forward to age 18 and it was time to implement Plan B (and B was the exact letter I was going for with reduction surgery, by the way!)  so I scheduled the operation. When the fateful morning arrived, I went to the hospital with just a bit of trepidation.   In the operating room, the young, handsome, curly haired Doctor came in and spoke to me, holding my hand while gazing deeply into my eyes, (a preview of what would be when I was finally smaller?)  as he explained the exact procedure.  I suppose he wanted to keep me abreast of everything that would occur.

He then exited out the door and I was alone with my itty bitty thoughts.  When the door opened next, a man walked in wearing surgical scrubs.  I grew suspicious as he opened the front of my hospital gown and took out a black Sharpie pen.

Me:  Wait a sec. Who are YOU?

Surgeon: (drawing circles on my skin)  I’m the same guy who was here before.  Only with a cap and mask. Why, who do you think I am?

Me:  Oh I don’t know.  I thought maybe they were selling tickets out there for strange men to come inside and doodle on my breasts with magic markers.

Surgeon:  Very funny.  Have you considered Nursing in the future?

Me:  Well, I get a little squeamish around blood.  Why?  Do you need an assistant?”

Surgeon:   Breastfeeding.  (pause) And you may not be able to. (brightly)  So how do you feel about C’s?

Me:  I pride myself on being a straight A student, but I’ll settle for a couple of  B’s.

Surgeon:  A or B?  But you’d be completely flat!?

Me:  That’s the idea.  I wanna give people a craving for blueberry Pancakes.

When I woke up on that recovery table, (even though I was in excruciating pain) – – the first thing I did was reach down to feel the results.  Straight through the bandages.  And in that moment,  I knew . . .  I would finally be able to say to my body,  “Breast in Peace.”  Forever.

Footnote:  Somehow I always thought as I approached menopause, the reverse of puberty would occur.  I would lose my cycles and of course my breasts would un-grow.  Okay! Now, would someone PLEASE hand over the “Change Of Life Manual??”  Because my body didn’t seem to get that memo.  “They’re Baaaaaaaaack!”  And no, that’s not a preview for the movie, Poltergeist.

Leave me a comment  – – maybe you have some big boob remark that I’ve never heard before.  But you can breast rest assured, I probably have!

Forget the Winter Olympics – – It’s The WRITER Olympics!

The Lord of the Olympic Rings!

The Lord of the Olympic Rings!

Why should athletes get all the glory?  I say change Winter to Writer (it’s just a few letters off after all) and let’s give ourselves some world-wide recognition!  You’ve already missed a little bit of the games, so read on and I’ll catch you up and “make sure we’re on the same page” with this concept….

The Opening Ceremonies of the Writer Olympics 2014 was a Best Seller Yeller, as the noisy crowd shouted for their favorites in “The Parade of the Publishers,” which now only slightly overshadows “The ebook Strut” and “The Librarian Stomp.”

The Author’s Oath (which was solemnly quoted, chapter and verse) by all Olympic Hopeful Indie Writers, went as follows:  “In the name of all the traditional house competitors, I promise that I shall take part in these Wordplay Games, respecting and abiding by the rules which govern them from the Library of Congress, committing myself to a profession without slander, plagiarism, thesaurus abuse, and Doritos – – and to always have an ISBN # in the true spirit of readership, for the glory of Hard Covers and the honor of my Acknowledgments Page.

In lieu of the traditional Lighting of the Torch, a few avid readers found an out-of-the-way, quiet, little Nook where they began to Kindle some firewood, their whoops and hollers heralding in the “Let the Book Burning Begin!” ancient festivities.  There were mainly “Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy books in the heap and a few diehard fans stood by with whips, biting their lower lip, rolling their eyes, and smirking. It was easy to read between the lines however, and know they were all thinking, “Holy Crap, E.L. James!”

The official events that many anxiously look forward to include: **

    • The Writing is on the Wall-Climbing
    • “The Short Story 1,000 Word Dash”
    • “Synchronized Synonyms”
    • “Modifier Dangling
    • “Blogganing Tobogganing”
    • “Novellathalon
    • “Cross Country Cliches”
    • “The Writer’s Hack n Hurdle”
    • “Page-Turning Relay”
    • “Plot Thickening & Jumping”
    • “The Final Daft Draft”
    • “Pen-Vaulting”
    • “Freestyle Query Letters
    • “Multiple Submission Slalom
    • “Figure of Speech Skating” (On Thin Ice)
I gotta "get the lead out" and win this thing!

I gotta “get the lead out” and win this thing!

      But first we turn our attentions to the Gold Medal Winner of the Minimalist Writers Award for this (very) brief interview:

Reporter:   Congratulations, you must be honored to join the ranks of Hemingway and Carver?

Minimalist:  Y

Reporter:  Where will you display your gold medal?

Minimalist:  Fireplace

Reporter:  Would that be over, under or inside the fireplace?

Minimalist:  Y

Okaaaaay. Well now here comes the winners of the Children’s Rhyming Classic Genre.  Their claim to fame – – the rewriting of “Horton Hears a Who” – –  Let’s give a really warm welcome to stone cold Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, who look really great for a couple of dead comics.

Reporter:  Hi Guys, WHAT  was your motivation for revising  WHO  Horton actually  hears?

Abbott:  WHAT

Reporter:  No, WHAT was the inspiration?

Costello:   That’s right.  The inspiration for WHO.

Reporter:  That’s WHAT I’m asking. So HOW did you come up with a modern day  WHO?  HOW?

Abbott:  WHY?

Reporter:  Never mind.  When WHO speaks, Horton Hears What?

Abbot: Yes, WHAT.

Reporter:  Horton Hears WHAT?  Just tell me, dammit. WHO is the one that Horton hears?

Abbott:  WHEN?

Reporter: Tell me now.

Abbott:  Tomorrow.

Costello:  Third Page!!

Okay, I guess they’ll tell us tomorrow.  Moving right along, we now catch up to long-time Olympic Champion Author in the Contemporary Horror event, as well as Suspense and Science Fiction events – – Always a good sport, here’s . . . Stephen King.

Reporter:  CUJOs  err, Kudos to you on your 79 medals, Mr. King!

Stephen King:  Yes,  IT was THE SHINING moment.

Reporter:  I understand you were in a lot of MISERY when you finally crossed THE GREEN MILE?

Stephen King:   Man, I thought I was in THE DEAD ZONE for sure.

Reporter:  THE LONG WALK when you were UNDER THE DOME must’ve made you feel like a BAG OF BONES?

Stephen King:  Yeah.  For a minute I almost thought CARRIE or DELORES CLAIBORNE would take the lead.

Reporter:  Nah, they didn’t have  THE TALISMAN  that you have.  But thank you. You’re just an open book to interview.

Well, that’s all the time this  dog-eared, bookworm reporter has for now. I’ll see you next time at The Writer’s Olympics, where we’ll have our expert judges (who will be judging a book by it’s cover) announce the finalists for the Gold Medal ceremony.  However I hear the entire name “The Writer’s Olympics” will be revamped to “The Hunger Games.”  Sheesh, some authors can’t seem to stay in their own lane  genre.  Oh well….it was just a matter of time, I suppose, before we started this New Chapter in sports recognition.

** Note:  All Jousting events have been cancelled since it was determined that indeed, “The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword.”

What’s your favorite WRITER Olympic Event??  Tell me that (and more!) in the comments section.

The (Almost) Arrest of my Freshly Pressed Houseguest (In Jest)

photo-180At first I was highly intrigued and quite honored.  A Freshly Pressed Blogger personally contacting me.  ME ?!  It all started about a week after my blogging here began – – I noticed I had one view every single day coming in from a very faraway, exotic country.  Cool, I thought.  Then the View turned into a Follow.  Cooler! I noticed the award badge on their site (Coolest!) and so I read the piece that was Freshly Pressed and I became Freshly IMpressed!

Her first comment to me was extremely flattering, praising my humor and suggesting that with a little of her advice and a few tips, I too might follow in her footsteps.  “Lead the way,” I thought.

That was the beginning of constant interactive comments on both our blogs and she seemed very amused by my posts.  She loved my parody post about the  Movies  , as well as the one about opening a new kind of restaurant that had an “unusual” Menu.  Then came the message that stepped just a tad outside of the normal “Blogger Zone.”  Had I ever been to her country?  And guess what?  California was someplace she’d always dreamed of visiting some day! Hmmm, I wondered.

Is this blogger just a wee bit mixed-up and is now harboring the notion that WordPress morphed into HomeSwap.dotcom?

Nonetheless, I’d been working on trying to be more affable lately, (plus working on using the word “affable” in my blog) and it was true that I had an extra bedroom since my divorce. And I DID live in a city that boasted such tourist draws as SeaWorld,  Legoland, a world famous Zoo, plus beautiful beaches.  And was just a Mickey Mouse-sized hop, skip and a jump from Disneyland.  What the heck.

When I met her at the airport, she couldn’t wait to show me all the delicious apricots from her homeland. How did she get past security with all that fruit, I wondered?  The drive home witnessed her hanging her head out the passenger’s side like my Labradoodle , oohing and ahhing at every street corner.

And then abruptly she rolled the window up, her hair still lacquered into place, and turned to me in an expectant manner.

Houseguest:  So. . . Say something funny.

Me:  What do you mean?

Houseguest:  Make me laugh.

Me: (Laughing)

Houseguest:  No, you’re doing it wrong. You are not the audience. You’re supposed to be the comic.

Me:  Seriously?

Houseguest:  You’re not funny at all.   Can you even tell a joke?

Me:  I don’t think you are allowed to heckle a writer.  Are you?

Houseguest:  See?  Once again, not funny.

Me:  (Swallowing hard)

Houseguest:  You’re just a One Hit Blogger, aren’t you?

Me:  (Shoulder shrug)

Houseguest:  That’s right.  You wrote one crummy piece on how to not blog like an old Fogie and suddenly the world’s your stage.

Me:   Not an Old Fogie.  It was an Old Codger.

Houseguest:   Whatever.  Just drive.

The week was starting off splendidly.  Yep, you heard me. But how could I have made her stay here any shorter than that?  When you come from that far away, two whole days are basically devoted to travel.

Once settled into my home, she immediately made a break for my bedroom and logged onto my own computer!  I could hear the typing from my kitchen.  Hard, definitive, angry strokes.

I distracted myself with calling a friend….

Friend:  That’s unbelievable.  Tell me more.

Me:  When we got here, the first thing she did was roll around on my sofa, sniffing it intently.  Read the Red Text  on my About Page  if you are wondering why she did that.

What does this have to do with anything? Click the

What does this perfume have to do with anything? Click the “About Page” link above.

Friend:  Oh I know why.  I remember you writing about that. Wow, what a piece of work.

Me:  Her or my About Page??

Friend:  LOL.  You’re sooooo funny!  What a hoot!

Me:  That’s another thing.  She says I’m unfunny.  She was expecting a cross between Tina Fey, Erma Bombeck and Lucille Ball.

Friend:  Nah, you’re more Carol Brady.

Me:  Thanks a lot. And she doesn’t even speak with an accent.  I am wondering if she really is from that country. Or was ever really Freshly Pressed?

Friend:  Freshly Pressed?  What’s that?

Me:  When your writing gets read by millions.  It’s something I’ve always….

Friend:  Gotta go!   The  kids are running stark naked down the street, handing out cookies to advertise our next garage sale.  We’re expecting a big crowd.

After our bath, we're gonna run down the street naked.

After our bath, we’re gonna run down the street naked.

When my houseguest from another country (?)  finally emerged from my bedroom, she wore my good black dress and casually sat down at the table, announcing she was starving.

Houseguest:  I checked on your computer.  You were never hacked like your blog  about hackers   claimed you were.

Me:  And your point is ?

Houseguest:  You’re a fraud.  Did you ever really have that incident happen in the dressing room when you went jean shopping??  Are you even the one writing all those blogs?

Me:  Of course I am.  Haven’t you ever seen a movie that’s based on true events?  They bend the truth a little  for drama.  I do it for humor.

Houseguest:  So what IS  true about you?

Me:  (blushing)  That’s kinda personal.

Houseguest:  You’re not even quite as old, fat, ugly, stupid or as disorganized as your blog makes you out to be.

Me:  Thanks??

Houseguest:  And are you even having an affair with your mailman??  Like it said in Paying It Forward Backfires?

Me:  Well  I  do know my mailman.  And I sometimes put on a clean shirt to fetch the mail.

Houseguest:  Haven’t you ever heard of Truth in Advertising?

Me:  But I’m not selling anything!

Houseguest: (looking me up and down, noticing empty ring finger)  Oh no?

Me:  Listen you, whoever you really are.  There’s not like a “Blogger’s Code of Ethics,” you know.  I can write whatever I want.  True or not.  I love blending fact into fiction to give my followers a laugh.

Houseguest:   You’re just scared your life is too boring to tell the truth.  You can’t handle the truth!

Me:  (looking around for Jack Nicholson)  So, what are you going to do?

Houseguest:  I’m going to blow the blog whistle on you.  Publish a long post announcing just how misleading you are.  You won’t have a follower left in hell by the time I’m done.

With that, she flounced off toward my bedroom and I heard the door slam and lock.  The ferocious typing resumed!  I’d seen the movie Pacific Heights.  How was I ever going to get this woman out of my bedroom, let alone my house?

Wow, I thought. “The truth IS stranger than fiction.”

Me: (thru the door)  Yoo Hoo.  What are you doing in there, Strange lady?

Houseguest:  Blowing your cover.  How’s this for a title?   “San Diego writer is  NOTHING  like her blog!”

Me:  Oh Please.  Please??   (the word sounds similar to….)  Police!  I’m calling the police.

Houseguest barricade? Sounds high priority.

Houseguest barricade? Sounds high priority.

Houseguest:  Dream on.  Nothing you ever say or write is true.  What an imagination.  No cop is ever gonna come out here over this.

I watched as the officer’s brows raised incredulously when I gave my account of what happened. He made no move toward my bedroom to arrest her.  His partner simply said, “She sounds like a real character.”

“But…but…you have to handcuff her!  I can’t have her ruining my blogging career before it even starts.  And she eats more than all three of my teenage sons put together.

“Ah hah.  Maybe you don’t really have any teenage sons??”

“Never mind that,” I said, flushing (I swear it wasn’t a hot flash!)  “She can’t stay!!”

Both men tipped their hats and said in unison, “Sorry Ma’am.  But you’re the only one who is capable of getting rid of her.  You’ve always had the power all along.”

I looked down at my feet.  No glittering ruby shoes.  There was only one way to guarantee that everything turned out okay in the end.  To make this “houseguest” disappear and ensure that I wouldn’t come off as a liar in my own blog.  That’s it!  Certainly everyone has heard of this . . .

“Life Imitates Art!”

It just had to work!  I sat down at the kitchen table and without hesitation, logged into WordPress.  With the same amount of determination, exactness, and aplomb as my houseguest, I typed the ideal title:

         “The Quest For the Perfect, Freshly Pressed Houseguest!”

“Dear Readers:  Would anyone like to visit San Diego?  I have a spare bedroom in a really fun city.  Please come with a carefree attitude and know that not everything you read is true ….. blah, blah, blah.”

When I put the finishing touches on my post and added a few images, I walked to the back of the house and opened the bedroom door . . .

My houseguest had completely vanished.  All that remained were a few fresh apricots on the desk – –  definitely from the tree in my very own backyard.

The Real Truth Behind “What Women Wish Men Knew!”

photo-15

Don’t you know when it’s time to stop “just listening to me” and start FIXING IT?!

We’ve all seen those lists, “10 Things Women Wish Men Knew.” Number one is always, “We don’t want guys to problem solve or find solutions – – we just want them to listen to us.” Yeah, right.

“Hey Handsome! The washing machine overflowed today. But Please don’t fix it, just let me ramble on while you show your compassion to the soon-to-be moldy carpet,” said No Woman Ever!

Actually I think my brother-in-law Norman, is the one responsible for thinking up that little gem; it got him out of doing my sister-in-law’s “Honey Do” list.

Someone has been giving men rotten advice lately, particularly about “Older” women. Now stay with me here – – it may be far-fetched, but I’m certain it’s actually a MALE writing all these articles about what women “our age” really want, what we wish for, and how to “help us” through these difficult years. This same man now writes for the show, “Cougar Town.” Let’s break down his latest list, shall we?

What Women Really Want!

by Randy

(Oh! See how clever he is? Randy can be a girl OR a guy’s name!)

My occasional comments on this list are bold. Like me.

1. When intercourse is painful, don’t give up on us….just be creative and add variety!  Yup. Because we soooo want to try a new position called, “Football Hiker’s Dream” while fixing you a BLT sandwich and arm-wrestling.

2.  When we get cranky, just keep your own spirits high.  Your happiness is our happiness.  Nothing’s worse than TWO irritable partners, so please continue to go on vacations and to parties alone. We need our rest after all. 

3.  Help us make that major mid-life decision by charting and graphing the pros/cons of keeping our ovaries.  Make a spreadsheet. Transfer it to Quicken. Convert it to a PDF and then to a binary file.   Bake at 350 until golden brown!

4.  Menopause is like a rebirth, so help us reinvent ourselves.  Take us hunting, fishing and golfing.  Why not teach us to homebrew beer, throw darts and sign us up for pole dancing lessons while you’re at it?

5.  We’re terribly lonely now that the kids have left.  Help us fill our time and feel needed again. Yes, it would be oh so helpful if you brought the gang over for weekly poker nights to let us practice our new pole-dancing moves. (see #4)

6.  Empathize with our symptoms.  Say, “I know exactly how you feel.”  Please do just that when we’re kicking off the blankets, drowning in our own sweat, and feeling like someone struck a match on our neck. Remind us about the time you had a fever of 99.4 and couldn’t leave bed for a week.

7.  Bring us gifts that emphasize our sexuality and our talents,  it will raise our self-esteem.  Yes, that skimpy, flimsy red Frederick’s of Hollywood nightie with the push-up bra is just what the doctor ordered to help with the above mentioned night sweats and to camouflage weight gain. Oh, and buy us an iron. Yes, it’s true! Menopausal women find the act of smoothing out wrinkled suit shirts quite soothing.

8.   Keep us positive.  Remind us of the silver linings and to always be grateful.  That’s right! We’re not going to get periods anymore so now we can swim with the sharks without being fish bait. Yay! Getting only three hours of sleep a night gives us more waking hours to accomplish laundry and housecleaning. When having a hot flash, we can simultaneously thaw the lamb chops for dinner. Goodie! (Bonus points if you tell us which body part to use.)

9.  Give us subtle Memory Cues to help with our forgetfulness, but allows us to save face.  If we forget our Social Security # or your cell phone number,  just tell us us it’s the same digits as our measurements pre-childbirth. If we forget our own name, remind us we’re now called, “VSD46B2” – – we’ll be thrilled to discover we also have a matching personalized license plate! (To see if your own recall is really as bad as all that, take my easy Memory Quiz right here

10.  Be a Fitness Buddy.   It’s very helpful when you help us track our weight, calories and exercise. Especially in public — a little term of endearment like, “You don’t really need that carrot cake tonight, do you, Piglet?” will go a long way.

And finally, To Randy:  here’s a little tip from a genuine REAL “older woman.”  What do we actually want?   To watch men experience all that we go through for just one day!  

* Big Thanks to “Sir Sid” for helping me link another post far more smoothly.

What Would the Hackers Say??

photo-169Yahoo recently issued a warning for all us users to change our passwords due to compromised email accounts by Hackers. There’s just one problem. I forgot my password three months ago and the answer to my security question as well.  (Too many people knew that my childhood dog was called Ginger (big Gilligan’s Island fan) so I decided to be tricky and pick one of my favorite authors instead of a canine name. But now I’ve got brain-fog (Menopausal symptom #11, google it) over which writer I picked way back then.  I’ve already tried Hemingway and Fitzgerald.

Turns out you cannot change your password to something new unless you know the old one.   So the good news is, all I need to do is 1) CounterHack into my own account when the hacker is looking the other way or going to the bathroom 2) get my old password back 3) Reset it to keep him out for good.  Viola!

As you can tell by this post so far, I’m a “Hack Writer” so I think it’s rather fitting that I be one of the first people getting Hacked. However, If I’m not successful at a “Hackback,” (which is kinda like a Pingback?)  it’s because I don’t drive a hatchback and I never had a knack for Hackeysack, which is clearly a drawback, so just cut me some slack.  Having said all that, (and not very easily, mind you!) perhaps I can persuade my Professional Hacker to answer a few questions about my emails instead?  So Mr. Hacker,  if you’re reading this – – I just need to satisfy my curiosity before you lock me out of my account forever.

C’mon just tell me this much – – while you were poking around inside my Inbox, did you happen to notice if my novel got an acceptance letter from an agent?  Or if my old boyfriend ever got back to me about meeting for coffee to see if we could rekindle something? Man, this dog/author name thing is gonna drive me crazy.  Was it John Grisham? Anne Rice?   Dr. Seuss?

To be honest, I’m feeling highly embarrassed (and violated) thinking of hackers inside my personal email.  (you can glimpse some of my email here   My mother always taught me to wear the proverbial nice underwear in case of a car accident (imagine my mortification when I went into Victoria’s Secret as an adult, asking to see something lacy in their “Paramedic Panty” Line) and I was also raised to keep my room tidy or goodness knows, what would the robbers  say?  And I always made sure my diary was grammatically correct in case it fell into the hands of a snoopy English teacher. So you can’t really fault me for being worried about what the hackers would say? Wow! It’s on the tip of my brain….Was it Danielle Steel? Tom Clancy?

I imagine hacking is lonely work so they must do it in pairs.  I’d like you to meet, “Mr and Mrs. Hacker.”  Let’s listen in, shall we?

Mr Hacker – – Will you get out of her Nordstrom’s account and her high school reunion emails already?  We have a job to do – –  let’s just get in, get out, and get on with the identity theft. (rubs hands together)

Mrs. Hacker – – Shame. She never did lose those last 5 pounds to fit into this killer red dress. I don’t think I want to take on her name if I have to use  her height and weight on my driver’s license too.

Mr. Hacker – – Focus Harriet, Focus.

Mrs. Hacker (pouting)- – We never go out anymore.  Day in and day out, it’s just hack, hack, hack.  Hacking my life away.  I shoulda listened to my mother and married the Virus Creator Guy.  At least then I could have put my romantic flair to good use writing that “I Love You” attachment that messed everyone’s hard drive up.

Mr. Hacker – – Stop giving me  flack over this hack and stay on track.

Mrs. Hacker – – Honey,  you know I always have your back.

Mr. Hacker – – Then don’t be such a yakker, put down that graham cracker, and get to work,  you Slacker Hacker!

A Hacker Snacker!

A Hacker Snacker!

Mrs. Hacker – – Oh look, her Visa bill shows weekly therapy and massages. That’s the life.

Mr. Hacker – –  Wow, Six kids?  What was she thinking? No wonder she needs therapy and massage.  And who has a childhood dog named Stephen King?

Mrs. Hacker – This is one bizarre chick. I just went to sabotage her Facebook account but all she does is post about the weather.

Mr. Hacker – – Yeah, and look at her WordPress blog.  I thought we might have a little fun messing up her settings and putting up some ugly headers, but she’s done a great job  of that all on her own. Look at that hideous purple feather thing.  Geeze.

Mrs. Hacker – – Look, she’s got 85 photos of the same parakeet, she’s planning her own surprise birthday party on Evite , even rsvp-ing to herself, and her bucket list has “Get Freshly Pressed” listed at the top of it.

Mr. Hacker –  A Dry Cleaning/Ironing  obsession?   Dang, these Yahoo Users get weirder every day.  Next thing you know, we’ll come across a rough draft for a story about a married Hacker couple.  From now on we stick with Google subscribers.  C’mon Harriet, let’s get the “hack” outa here.

Footnote:  I finally changed  passwords  on my “Mac.”  Had to “rack” my brain, but now I guard it safely in my “backpack.” I won’t divulge it, but let’s just say no “Quack” should be able to “Hack” me again.  I’m tired and gonna hit the “Sack.”  😉  But please scroll down to Comments and leave me your best “comeback!”

Never let a Big Mac Attack sidetrack a good Hack.

Never let a Big Mac Attack sidetrack a good Hack.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/02/daily-prompt-groupthink/

5 Reasons You Should Make a Dating Profile for Your Ex-Spouse (With an Example!)

This doesn't mean your ex is "mousy."

This doesn’t mean your ex is “mousy.”

Disclaimer:  I am in no way “pro-divorce.” But once it occurs, I think both parties should make the best of it.

 

  Creating a Dating Profile For Your Ex Is An Idea Whose Time Has Come and Here is Why!

1. You’re divorced and have moved on in a healthy manner, but your Ex hasn’t quite made the transition.  He or she is  “mopey” (in that same way that made you want to give them a haircut in their sleep when you were married to them because THEN they’d really have something to mope about!) or he/she simply hasn’t developed that “confident single attitude” yet. However, the two of you have stayed civil and you’d like to help this person (whom you supposedly cared enough about to take vows with)  get “out there” with a friendly little (okay, big) Shove.

2. It’s been quite some time now after your split and “somehow” you got signed up to pay spousal support for (a) the rest of the duration of your Ex’s natural life OR  (b) until he/she remarries. How to shorten this outcome?  (Hint: I’m talking about option (b) – – that’s the moral/ethical one!) Writing a dating profile on their behalf to get them married off will abbreviate this route significantly!

3. You’re doing a great service for society. Nobody knows your Ex like you do, right?  Therefore, writing a personal ad for them will actually lessen the future divorce rate in our country by helping his/her dates have reasonable expectations. Your personal ad will reflect accurate reality and allow the new potential Suitor (or Suitess in the case of your ex-husband) to do their due diligence completely online!  But you must be fair and honest in your description and respond to all follow-up questions courteously and without intent to sabotage.

4. You have kids and you would very much like to steer your Ex toward a quality individual so that you can sleep at night knowing your Ex won’t bring Charlie Manson or Kim Kardashian to your children’s Back to School Night.  In other words – – You are a Control Freak.

5. Your Ex is still very much obsessed with the past and drives you crazy trying to go back in time and rewrite history with statements that begin with, “If only we would have ____________, we would still be married today.”  They may fill in the blank with some of the following…

If only we would have . . .

  • Dated longer before tying the knot
    Had better communication
    Had More sex
    Had Less sex
    Put a lock on the refrigerator
    Had double sinks
    Had His and Her Bank Accounts
    Had a slight inkling that cheating would be destructive
    Gagged your mother
    Worn coordinating Halloween costumes like Romeo & Juliet
    or John & Lorena Bobbitt

You get the idea.  They dwell forever and have an unrealistic idea about reconciling. They need a real life distraction with a new relationship!  Yep, yep they surely do!

Here is the profile I wrote for my ex-husband and examples of follow-up correspondence.

Nice Enough Guy, Still Looks Pretty Good Thru Lots of Marital Stress!

Versatile Aged Man who could pass for 42 (if you don’t keep up with your optometrist appointments) or could also sneak by as 65 (and often will try this to get a Senior Discount at the movies) Seeks Loving Female who gets that “he works hard all day and when he comes home would just like a little peace and quiet, some good food and lots of sex.  Is that too much to ask for?” The preceding was a direct quote that I can replay for you on my cellphone (which I recorded without his knowledge) if you call me on my landline after 10 am.  I can’t stomach hearing it any earlier than that because the volume/tone of his voice is quite irritating when I first wake up. You’ll understand six months in.

He’ll be your biggest fan and best friend in every way you can think of….except will  NOT go shopping, compliment your appearance, help around the house, make you a surprise party, or hold your hair back during morning sickness, which everyone knows is really All Day sickness  – – but pleeease be beyond that stage of your life!  Makes a mean pot of chili for Super Bowl Sunday and bucks up when he gets a cold.  No acting like a big baby on the sofa with a  99.5 temperature for this dude.  Nuh uh.

Treats your family nice when they’re over, but afterwards might make a few off color jokes about the low-cut dress your sister wore.  But hey, at least he notices fashion!  Note:  He WILL always tell you your ass looks great in those jeans (regardless of how much of a bubble butt you have) because he’s learned this gets him a little somethin’/somethin’ later that night, so definitely do NOT go by him when you’re getting dressed for an evening out.

Great with cars, (driving, washing and repairing) and will even stop to ask directions (only after you’ve been cruising around, lost for at least 10 minutes) but overreacts terribly if you drive over a curb, back into a pole, or happen to smash into a parking attendant booth, causing your car to get banned from the movie theatre forever. Supportive of your career if it’s math or science related but if you’re a writer, have a ready-made list completely memorized so you can easily rattle of the answer to  “what exactly did you do all fucking day long?” (Again, phone me after 10 am for voice inflection example.)

TEN ADJECTIVES TO DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S LOOKING FOR IN THE NEW WOMAN:  Flexible, (physically and emotionally) Gullible, Sweet, Able to be Well-Kempt on a Budget,  Possess a Patient Sense of Humor (ability to laugh enthusiastically at the same joke over and over again as if you are a Virgin Audience) and must have a Positive Nature (the washing machine isn’t old and broken, it’s quaint and charming!)

HIS  IDEA OF A  REALLY  GOOD  FIRST  DATE:  Not to spoil any fun or surprises for you, but do dress in something you won’t care gets ruined. And eat lots of protein beforehand. (Oh, and bring a single sharp knitting needle, some super-glue, and some feathers)

More Questions?  Contact me at    [email protected]

Hi there – – Everything sounds pretty typical here with the no shopping and no compliments, but can you tell me if he would ever be open to  breakfast in bed ?

Signed,

Wondering Stella

Dear W.S.

Yes, he’ll be on the receiving end any weekend morning.  Oh, silly me.  Did you mean will he ever serve YOU  brunch in bed?  On Mother’s day and sometimes Valentine’s day, but you have to be okay with runny eggs because he once overcooked them and I made the mistake of complaining so now he overcompensates. (or else he’s just vindictive)

Little Miss Menopause

Hi and Thank you for telling it like it is.  What about talking? Will he just listen without always trying to solve or fix everything?

Signed,

Just Need A Sounding Board

Dear J.N.A.S.B.

Yes, he will stay very quiet and let you talk, but you should occasionally check to make sure he hasn’t completely tuned you out.  I sometimes interrupt my own monologue about going to the pediatrician’s office by seductively saying, “… and the next thing I knew, he pushed me back on his desk and he was an incredible lover — I climaxed over twenty times!” Then I strategically pause just to see if he jolts forward and says, “Huh??”

With regards to trying to solve your problems or fix everything.  Do not worry your pretty little head.  He’ll fix absolutely nothing.  Especially  if it’s in desperate need of repair.

Little Miss Menopause

To Whom it May Concern:  Good idea to write your Ex’s profile but you don’t mention money very much. Did you get jewelry?  Taken out for meals?  What about vacations, live-in maids and weekly massages?

Signed,

Just Appreciate Pleasure

Dear J.A.P.

This may NOT concern me anymore since I removed the cubic-zirconia from my left hand, but You REALLY need to move along to a different profile. You’ve got the wrong guy.

Little Miss Menopause

Hey! So what exactly does he look like?  On a scale of 1-10, what did your friends think about him?  I really can’t be with a guy who is losing his hair, or is shorter than I am, or has that little stomach paunch thing going on.

Signed,

Some Have A Little Less Of Worth

Dear  S.H.A.L.L.O.W.

You must be gorgeous.  Life must be Perfect. Your manicure never chipped.  And you’re still looking for your Significant Other because……???

Little Miss Menopause

Well there you have it!  A totally new concept in “Dating After Divorce!”  I will be starting my own website where you too, can make a profile exactly like the one above for your own Ex, so stay tuned for your chance to submit something at “MySpouseWasn’tACompleteLouse.Dot Com.” Please leave an indication in the comment section below whether I should hold space for a Text Profile  (with endless scrolling for your vivid descriptions) or a Visual Profile because you can get the job done with a single photo and a short video clip of your Ex in the shower.
Happy Life After Divorce!

Paying It Forward Backfires!

photo-167Disclaimer: The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

It all started with an innocuous online message.  “ 1)  Make a list of five people and do an act of kindness for each.   2)   Ask each of them to pass it on to five more people.   3)   Enjoy making the world a better place!”  Simple, yes?   Oh right, there was a fourth step.   4) “Now you’ve seen this message and cannot Unsee it!  If you break the cycle of good deeds – – bad things will happen!”

This was “Pay It Forward” Damien Omen style!

“Unsee it??”  My  OCD  now  properly  activated,  I decided to keep a carefully detailed journal for proof and safety documentation.

        1st   Act  Of   Kindness:  Sent My Mother Flowers

       Result:

Mom:   Got your flowers. This  your way of saying, “the bloom is off the rose?”

Me:   Ma,  Nobody says that anymore.

Mom:   But you’re thinking it!

Me:   I just wanted you to have some grace and beauty.

Mom:   Some Grace.  I dropped a glass pitcher trying to water them. And in a few days, I’ll have a dead bouquet. There’s your Beauty.

Me:   Okay nevermind.  But do me a favor, do something nice for five friends, ok?

Mom:    I should do YOU a favor and do something nice?  You want something nice done, do it yourself.

Me:    Alright.  I’ll do kind deeds in your honor.  And put your name on them.

Mom     Don’t do me any favors!   Better you should  sign it, “From Your Secret Pal.”

Me:    Nobody has those anymore.

Mom:    My Mahjong ladies are here.   I have to defrost the water.  It’s  still  frozen.

Me:    Ma,  That’s  called  ice.

Me:    (into dial tone)   Be careful.  There’s a cycle of goodness that shouldn’t  be… Hello, hello  Mom?  How’s your rheumatism?

2nd Act of Kindness:  Put Chocolate Heart in Son’s School Lunch.

photo-163

            Result:

Son:   What’s with the candy?  One of your nags to see Dr. Tartar  for my cavities?

Me:   Not at all.  Just conveying love.

Son:   Well, now Savannah is jealous.

Me:   And you’re absolutely positive she wasn’t born in Georgia?  Maybe  conceived?

Son:    Seriously?!   It’s called a Destination Name.  Very popular.

Me:   Okay, okay.  So your Resort-Style, Vacation Girlfriend is jealous because your own mother loves you?

Son:   Hell,  I  couldn’t  show  her  that  Lame-o  note of yours.   So she thinks the heart  is  from Madison,  (who was not born OR conceived in Wisconsin)  but who beat her out of head Cheerleader and now she hates her guts.

Me:   Sorry to hear that.  But please abide by the rules and pay it forward.  I have this cycle…

Son:   Why do you always have to bring your monthly friend into everything?  Maybe after my Physics finals.

Me:   (swallowing hard)   Uh   oh.  You’re  in  the  middle  of  finals??   (Secret Pal better strike again!)

3rd Act of Kindness:  Left a Water Bottle for the Mailman

generic water bottle: no trademark infringement!

generic water bottle:
no trademark infringement!

       

           Result:

Mailman:   I’m sorry Little Miss Menopause,  but  I  gotta  issue  you a citation for using marked US Postal Service property as a trash receptacle.

Me:  (batting lashes)   It was  terribly  warm out.  I thought you might be thirsty.

Mailman:   It’s 62 degrees out.  Are you having one of your Hot Flashes or Confusion Episodes,  Miss  Meno?

Me:    No,  I  am not.  Clearly,  I  was  NOT  littering.  There was a “Pay it Forward” note that was attached.

Mailman:     I’m  returning  your note,  postage  due.

Me:     You don’t understand.  We mustn’t break the chain.

Mailman:    Chain letters are illegal to send through the mail.   I’ll have to report that too.

Me:     Okay, okay.  But please, when you get home – – can you just cook your  wife  a nice dinner or something?

Mailman:   That’s  very  unlike  me.  She’ll  guess  you and  I  are  having an affair.  Plus she’s about to have a baby, remember?

Me:  (swallowing harder)   OMG,  Rosemary’s  Baby!!!

Mailman  (pats  my  hand)     It’ll  all  be okay once  your  Xanax  gets  bumped up.  See you at 11 pm tonight when  I’ll  make a delivery  with  “the complete package.”  I’ll knock three times.

Me:   Shouldn’t you ring?  Doesn’t the Postman Always Ring Twice?? (Note to self: Write a blog about people conversing using only Movie  Title  dialogue)

4th Act of Kindness:  Bought  Random  Buff  Guy  a  Coffee  at Starbucks

Forget Trademark infringement. Maybe they'll sponsor my blog!

Forget Trademark infringement. Maybe Starbucks will sponsor my blog!

        Result:

Guy:   This  some  kinda  sick  joke?   I’m on a health kick.  I just gave up caffeine a week ago.  It interfered with my steroids.  I’m  only  here for  the  chocolate crumb cake.

Me:    Oh, sorry!  Could you pass this coffee to the cute, elderly lady behind you, then? But say it’s from you.  I’d like you to take the credit.

Guy:   Oh  man  Gramma!  Is your tongue ok?  This crazy broad  in front of me  made me  give you scalding coffee.

Me:   (leaning)   Sorry,  Gram.  But  did you see that movie, “Pay It Forward?”  With Helen Hunt?

Guy:    Hard of hearing.  She’s looking around for  Candid Camera.

Me:     No,  not  Funt,  Dear.  Hunt.  Hunt.  HUNT!

Guy:    Now she thinks you’re calling her a female body part.

Me:     Naturally.

5th Act of Kindness: Go to Stationery Store and Buy a “From Your Secret Pal” Stamp and Send Blank Checks To…(deep breath)

1. My Mother’s entire Mahjong group  2. Her Rheumatologist  3.  Son’s Physics teacher  4. Our dentist,  Dr. Tartar  5. Son’s girlfriend Savannah  6. All her Timeshare cheerleader friends:  Madison,  Brooklyn,  Tallahassee,  Seattle,  Massachusetts,  &  of course, Mt. Kilimanjaro  7.   The Mailman’s Wife,  8.  Their  OB-GYN,  9. Starbucks Staff,  10.  The Buff Guy’s Grandmother’s Hearing Aid Salesman, 11. Helen Hunt  12.  Alan Funt  13.  (and for good measure) Emily Blunt & Bonnie Hunt.

Oh and what the hell,  send Steven Spielberg the ominous “Pay It Forward” note.  (Evil laugh)  Let him be the one to worry about “Just when you thought it was safe to go to your mailbox!”  He could use a Prequel.

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Hum the Theme from Jaws starting now…..

Do Opposites Attract?! (Maybe if you have a Magnetic Personality)

Blech!

Blech!

“Birds of a feather flock together.” Maybe that just means you should marry someone who also owns a parakeet. In honor of February and Valentines Day, I’m trying to find out if there’s any truth to that age old theory that opposites not only attract; they make for long sustaining unions?

First I will confess to writing Snopes.com to convince them to list this notion as an urban legend based on my past, personal (and polarized!) relationships, which went downhill faster than Lady Gaga can belt out, “Bad Romance.” Now I’m not talking the Donny and Marie syndrome, (“she’s a little bit country, he’s a little bit rock n’ roll”) I mean true fundamental differences at the very core of your personalities. So can extreme opposites ever really work out in the long run?

I’ve been married nine times. Note: In reality I’ve only walked down the aisle twice but I’m trying to disguise my situation because my ex-husbands are best buddies and claim they’ll collaborate to sue me if I ever blog about them. (Like you can copyright aggravation!) Maybe after reading this, they’ll join forces and search for the seven other stashed away, missing ex-husbands instead!

Husband #6 (really #1 but shhhh!) seemed like your typical romantic bachelor during courtship, but I soon realized he was a Sciencemathologist. That’s code for being a total left-brained thinker. (Note: I’m a right-brained creative, emotional personality type – just in case fabricating seven extra marriages and concocting the word “Sciencemathologist” didn’t tip you off)

This husband expressed his affection by custom ordering Valentine conversation candy with the periodic table elements on them. I found this slightly endearing – after all, how many chalky, heart-shaped Pepto-Bismols proclaiming, “crazy4u” can you consume? And there’d be instances when I’d need the atomic number for both helium and aluminum, right? Suppose I simultaneously bought a party balloon and a roll of Reynolds Wrap?  Hey, it could happen.  photo-155

“Oh Honey, No diamond engagement ring, please. I’ll just loop some carbon atoms around my finger,” said no Bride-To-Be ever!

Instead of anniversaries symbolized with the traditional gifts of paper, linen, silk, bronze and pearls, he favored titanium, sulfur, lithium, sodium (sodium got me a saltshaker) hydrogen, and chlorine.  No, that last one doesn’t mean he built us a swimming pool. My friends deemed it “quaint” but I wasn’t sticking around for the big ten-year gifts — plutonium and arsenic.photo-156

A certain other husband (who shall remain numberless) was a painstakingly slow decision maker, a fastidious planner, and tossed food out days before the sell-by dates. I’m carefree and spontaneous, (sounds better than saying disorganized and impulsive) and happen to know Dannon puts premature expirations on their yogurt. Heck, I even throw caution to the wind and buy day-old donuts. Needless to say, leaving the house simultaneously was impossible, let alone going away on vacations. Miles ahead, I’d sneak through airport security, (harboring full-size tubes of Colgate, mind you) while back home, he hunched over the bathroom sink, deliberating, “should toothpaste really have baking soda in it?”

Yep, he highlighted expiration dates.

(above) Yep, he highlighted expiration dates.

And SEX! So how was intimacy, you might inquire? Scheduled and organized. Or maybe that was just a game of “Twister” we always played? (“Left hand on red negligee!”) Where was his soap-opera push me down on the pillows passion play? Things were entirely too calm in the boudoir and elsewhere. Grocery shopping was equally regimented, with elaborate lists written for a week’s worth of dinners. Do you know on Sunday if you’ll be in the mood for beef-stew on Wednesday in the dining room? Or (ahem) “Beefcake” on Friday in the bedroom?!

I’m certainly not the only one grappling with these oil & water issues. My friend Tiffany (who promises NOT to sue me if I mention her scenario) enjoys expressing herself with eloquent and flowery phrases that even Hallmark has plagiarized. However her boyfriend (who doesn’t care enough to send the very best, but still expects a little somethin’ somethin’) is one of those “Love Ya” kinda guys.

You know the type. They can’t even be bothered to spell “love” correctly, so she gets “Luv Ya!” And exactly what part of speech is “Ya” anyhow? Pretty sure it’s an exclamation like “duh or “meh.” If a man can’t commit to using a solid personal pronoun, then he shouldn’t be dangling his participles in your direction. But yesterday Tiffany excitedly called to report a new revelation . . . he switched to “Wuv You!”  Not wanting to shatter her “Tiffany Epiphany” I said, “Congratulations, Tiff. Now you can say you’re in a relationship with a guy who speaks fluent Kitten.”

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I still haven’t come to any definitive conclusions on this whole opposite dilemma but as you read this, I’ll probably be answering the door to find both my exes standing united, holding an official court summons.

On the porch will sit a Bunsen burner and some stale Sourdough rolls. “Even though you didn’t use our real names and you changed our marital numerical order, we still recognized ourselves in your blog” they’ll accuse in unison. And I’ll be hard pressed to deny it – after all, personality traits as distinctively irritating as theirs are hard to camouflage.

But I’ll finally have my answer to the age-old question. Do opposites definitely attract? No, but they definitely attack!

Have you been drawn to your opposite?  Did it last? I’d love to hear.

           

Bad Bitter Butter!

Bad Bitter Butter!

  

He HIGHLIGHTED the exp. date!
He HIGHLIGHTED the exp. date!

                .

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