Category Archives: Fun

And Now We Take A Pregnant Pause!

photo-274In the last month there seems to have been quite a few bewildered females “out there,” walking around in a 9 month state of conception confusion.   It appears some women are under the impression they have a stomach virus, when in fact, they are really about to give birth. Just like this link will explain . . .   Woman’s Tummy Ache is Really a Nine lb. Baby Boy!  (And wouldn’t that be a nifty commercial slogan for Tums or Alka-Seltzer??!)

But conversely, (though admittedly a tad less common) there are many gals who fancy the notion they are carrying up to Four Babies, when in actuality they are simply wearing a pair of ill-fitting Spanx.  (Woman tricks boyfriend and entire town into believing she is having Quadruplets!)    And no, this was not Alan Funt’s grandson from Candid Camera who was “tricked.”

But never fear – – Little Miss Menopause (who has six children and can empathize with how subtly mysterious the last few days leading up to Labor and Delivery can be) has decided to come to the rescue of these poor baffled Mothers-To-Be and Mothers-NOT-To-Be (as the case may be!) with a handy, clever checklist that will help them tell the difference between just a simple “Jelly Belly” and a “Baby Belly.”  It’s tricky, but she thinks she can lend a helping hand.

She also recommends this same list to give some clarity to all the male companions of these mixed-up women so they can avoid things like having to sheepishly return a truckload of diapers and infant clothing, (donated on Facebook by well-meaning community members) or being interviewed on the 11:00 evening news and saying things like, “It was the darndest thing – –  first I assembled four cribs from Ikea while swearing like a sailor, then we thought up four different first and middle name combinations that went perfectly with our last name “Goofenblogger,” and then I rushed into the hospital room in time to see the doctor yank our four cute little floral chintz living-room throw pillows out from underneath her blouse.

So Without Further Ado, Little Miss Menopause Presents . . .

How To Definitively Decipher If You’re Really “With Child.”

 

1.  If you still think about sex, you are most definitely, absolutely, completely NOT pregnant.  Period!!  (or even if you stop your period!)

2.  If a well-meaning male co-worker remarks they thought all “Ladies-in-Waiting” were supposed to have a healthy glow or look radiantly happy,” and the police haven’t referred to you as “a Person of Interest” in their murder case, then there’s no baby.

3.  If you can still find a basket of saltine crackers in a restaurant even remotely appealing, you’re not Prego.

You may not be This. But you can still pour this over pasta.

You may not be “This.” But you can still pour “This” over pasta without vomiting your guts out.

4.  If you don’t mutter things like, “Breasts just slightly more sensitive than usual, my ass!” aloud to the author of the “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” book, you are simply not Expecting.

5.  If you prepare older Siblings-To-Be by saying things like, “Do you know what mommy has in her tummy?” and they instantly respond with, “yes, the cushion that matches our dining room drapes,” you’re a Big, Fat Faker.

6.  If a girlfriend asks you to go shoe shopping and you don’t immediately think it’s “Naturalizers or Nothing,” then you’re experiencing a Phantom Pregnancy.

7.  When your husband asks you what the baby’s kicking feels like, and you don’t have a sudden, increased desire to demonstrate by kicking HIM in the beer-gut the very next time he’s happily snoring away . . . don’t even bother signing up for diaper delivery service.

8.   If you haven’t changed the title of Beyonce’s song, from  “All the Single Ladies!” to “All the Double Ladies!” and chanted the chorus as, “If you liked that last piece of cake, then you shoulda put a (napkin) ring on it!” rest assured that you don’t have a bun in the oven.

9.  If it’s one day after your official due date, and you don’t answer your incessantly ringing telephone by growling, “Yes, I AM still here.  Go get a life!”  then you are so NOT Knocked-Up.

10.  If you still think it’s worth it to be pregnant because you get to pull your car into all the good parking spots at the mall – –  plus you’re entitled to gobble two boxes of Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies without feeling guilty because you’re “eating for two” now – –  someone (like me!)  needs to tell you that pregnant women actually only need an extra 200-400 extra calories a day.  There!!  We’ll see if you don’t come to your senses this very minute and go ride all the forbidden rollercoasters at Disneyland , followed by drinking two glasses of wine.

11.  If you are shopping for a bathing suit to impress your new guy because you just lost 12 pounds, and the salesgirl asks you when your baby is due?  You have my permission to give her a dirty look and inform her that you are definitely not pregnant.  But why doesn’t she try having four C-sections in 7 years?!?

12.  HOWEVER – – if you’ve lasted 38 weeks in a condition that would rival a beached whale, keep dreaming you’re giving birth to a dancing red-haired Hamster – – you hate everyone, everything, everywhere, every sound they make, every touch they take, every smell they bake, every minute you’re awake, every body part will ache, every emotion you fake — and if someone says, “You think you’re tired now?  Just wait till the baby comes!” one more time, you’ll slap them quicker than you can say “Give me my Epidural, NOW!” then you need to start your deep-breathing technique, pack your bags and head to the nearest hospital – – because you’re definitely going to be a mother.  And life as you know it will never be the same again.

 

The Happiest Place on Earth Depresses Me!

You can get very dizzy spinning around in the Happiest Place on Earth.

You can get very dizzy spinning around in the Happiest Place on Earth.

Intelligent children (who are well-organized and can understand calendars and priorities) are a dangerous thing.  Yes, I was coerced by little people who cannot vote, serve in the armed forces, drink, drive, gamble or plan a balanced meal – –  but who, with the knowledge that our Yearly Passes expire soon – –  were able to force me to Disneyland.

Yesterday was a Wednesday, so I anticipated the excursion would be rather harmless.  But that was before I realized an entire Los Angeles suburb decided to schedule their school district’s Easter Vacation  (called Spring Break these days?) almost a whole month before the “Bunny Carrying Candy Laden Basket” holiday itself.

Walt would have a Panic attack to see what a (crowded) “Small World” it really is with this mob scene!

As I wandered thru the entrance, congratulating myself for being a Passholder and bypassing the long lines out at the ticked booths, I consulted a custom Disney guide that my older college son had written for me – –  “How to Best Optimize Your Time Without Losing Your Mind.”  He knew me well.

It seems that building one amusement park (centered around a smiling rodent with a squeaky voice) is not enough; someone decided to add on “California Adventures” while subliminally suggesting to parents that they can double their fun if they go back and forth between BOTH ride/show/parade infested Arenas – – thus the two-for-one “Theme Park Hopper” was born.

You must meet a height requirement but you don't need to know American Sign Language on this ride. (demonstrated by rude guy sitting behind my children)

You must meet a height requirement but you don’t need to know American Sign Language on this ride. (demonstrated by rude guy sitting behind my children)

I sent my children, who meet the height requirements for all the scary rides (“Twilight Tower of Terror” will age a person faster than any menopausal symptom ever will) ahead of me to go on Space Mountain.  Meanwhile, I was supposed to (according to my son’s detailed guide) go stand in a different line, thus reducing the minutes their impatient little bodies would need to stand around in order to ride on Splash Mountain.  Yes! Disneyland likes the mountain theme.  A lot.  So there’s Space, Splash, Thunder and even a realistic snow-capped mountain which is supposed to resemble the Alpine Peaks called the Matterhorn.

But you don’t need to know any of this.  All you need to remember is a made-up word called “FASTPASS.”

Is a FASTPASS A Slow Boat to China?

Me:  Hi there.  Is this long line to go on Space Mountain, Splash Mountain or Thunder Mountain?  My son wrote me a guide specifying that we should ride those first before they get too crowded.

Line-Stander:  None of those.  This line is actually for FASTPASS.

Me:  Oh!  How tall do you have to be to ride FASTPASS?

Line-Stander:  Uh, Lady . . . I think you better consult your guide again.

And that’s when I saw it!  These people were standing in a zig-zagging line all around Tomorrow-Land to obtain an official time-stamped card that would entitle them to return later in the day for a few select popular rollercoaster rides. You’re getting this, right?  A line to organize you to stand in another line.  It’s brilliant in a way that I cannot fathom.

  Essentially A FASTPASS is a reservation for a specific time to Vomit!

And not only that, people were running around all over Disneyland, (standing in these hour-long queues)  to collect bunches of these special little cards, like you would collect valuable property deeds in Monopoly.  In fact, at a ride called “Grizzly River Run Rapids,” the line to get issued a FASTPASS was actually far longer than the short five minute line to get jostled around on the raft itself.photo-268

Me:  Excuse me, but what are you doing over here?  Why don’t you just go floating down this cold, dirty river right now?

Line-Stander:  Our family doesn’t like to get wet first thing in the morning.

Me:  (taking a step back) Oh, so none of you have taken a shower yet??

And get this – – not only do you need to keep track of when you can “check-in” to the attraction you want to visit, but at the bottom of this highly prized card (in teeny, tiny print) is another time-stamp which tells you when you are able to acquire your next FASTPASS.  So my cellphone was constantly ringing and buzzing with different alarms and timers, alerting me when I should do all of these things.

And some of these (Free) FASTPASSES get “Sold-Out” by 10 am.  That’s right – –  You wait in a long line and make your way nearly to the front, (where a revered machine dispenses these hot little devils) when suddenly a very brave Disney Worker (officially deemed “A Cast Member,” possibly because they dress up as animated characters, but more likely because they will soon play the part of a murder victim) places a large placard up that states, “There will be no more FASTPASSES Available today.”  And then he quickly “ducks.”  Yes, like Donald.

IMG_1987Arriving late for your time slot is another total disaster unless you have a good reason for being Tardy.  Captain Hook refused to let us fly to NeverLand with Peter Pan until I came up with an alibi – –  we got stuck on one of their old, broken-down trains, PLUS we had to go to the First-Aid Station after Mary Poppins purposely tripped my youngest with her umbrella.  He bought that story after I told him that he could sue Disney for his missing arm.

Walt Would Have Turned Over in His Grave, But First He’d Need a FASTPASS to Do It!

Now let’s get one thing straight.  I arrived at Disneyland at 8 am. and by 5 pm, I had put in a good day’s work.  My shift was over and I was ready to punch out. I had even taken to whistling that wretched Disney tune, “Hi-Ho, It’s Home From Work We Go.”  The only problem was that we still had those darn coveted FASTPASSES for three of the most insanely wild rides in the park.  And they could not be used until 7 pm.  My children would not budge toward the parking lot.

But of course, this was a non-issue for a clever “Cast Member” like myself.  Nobody here had seen the likes of Acting anywhere close to what this Drama Queen can perform.  I sprinkled water from that disgusting River across my face, flung my hand dramatically up to my forehead, and approached someone in a Disney Prince costume.  I wisely refrained from batting my eyes flirtatiously in Mr. Charming’s direction.

Me:  Excuse me.  My children have waited all day long to use these FASTPASSES that aren’t valid until two hours from now.  As you can see, I feel quite faint and was wondering if you might let these Poor Innocents ride just a bit early?

Prince Charming:  Your skin does look White as Snow.  I’ll make an exception for your “Little Dwarfs” just this once.  Perhaps you might like to lie down in that glass coffin around the corner.

Me:  (Dirty Look) Thank you.  You’re a Prince.

Well, that was easy-peasy, extra queasy!   At the next ride, I feigned a stomach-ache and someone who looked like Goldilocks said perhaps I should go easy on all that porridge.  But Yes!  She would let my “Three Little Bears” on the ride early to help me out.  Bless her little heart of gold, (which was not too soft and not too hard.)

So I was onto something here!  At the third and final ride of the day, I approached an Alice in Wonderland lookalike and made my case of a twisted ankle, limping convincingly up to the entrance.  She admonished me to be careful walking around White Rabbit Holes, but agreed to let my children on if they could smile like the Cheshire Cat for her.

Just as my three well-trained kids were breaking into that goofy feline grin, out stepped Prince Charming and Goldilocks from behind some mouse ear-shaped bushes  (you’ll never convince me they weren’t doing what I thought they were doing back there) and informed a shocked Alice that my legs worked perfectly fine. Still I was a VERY sick woman, they emphasized, proceeding to recount how I already had a headache, a stomach-ache, and I could faint any minute now.  But I definitely did NOT have a sore leg.  For shame!  Was this any kind of example to set for my children??

Alice In Wonderland:  What kind of parent demonstrates your brand of deceitfulness?

Me:  (tossing our FASTPASSES in her face)  An Evil StepMother!  C’mon kids…we’re going home before the clock strikes midnight.

Kids:  (whining) But we’re still Hungry.

Me:  (cackling maniacally) Oh, just hush up and eat your Poison Apples!!

Pluto, giving my son a hug because he has such a "wicked witch" of a mother!

Pluto, giving my son a consoling hug because he has such a “Wicked Witch” of a mother!

 

 

 

 

 

The Lame Name Shame Blame Game!

photo-250Could our given names play a large influence in the quality of the lives we lead?  Could the “perfect” Blog name give you an extra boost for success?   I am not setting out to definitively answer these questions, but I am going to probe the issues with my own personal brand of quirkiness!

My own name (Stephanie) was picked right inside the delivery room.  My parents were set on calling me Samantha, but days before I was born, the popular show depicted below was televised and the main character was named (what else?) Samantha.

Maybe I woulda had a 2 inch waist like hers too?!

Maybe I woulda had a 2 inch waist like hers too?!

Plagued with the idea that people would call me a witch, my mother switched it at the last minute.  (I secretly suspect however that it was really her fear of being thought of as “Samantha’s mother, Endora”  Remember her?!)   To this day, I wonder how different my life would have been if I were Samantha instead of Stephanie.  Samantha twitches her nose bewitchingly and casts super cool spells.  Stephanie blows her nose incessantly and sneezes a few times. (For a little extra charm?)

Nowadays, I have six kids of my own.  This means I’ve had half a dozen chances to drive my husband(s) frigging crazy over choosing the “ideal” child’s name.  And rest assured,  I didn’t squander even one opportunity!

Me:  If it’s a boy, I want to name him Mitchell.  It’s not as common as Michael, yet it still sounds “Presidential.”

Husband:  Presidential??

Me:  Yes, when he’s ready to step into that position. But when he’s a baby, we’ll call him “Mitchie.”  Then he can grow into “Mitch” as a teenager.  And finally, when he’s a Senator, he can go by his first and middle name – –  “Mitchell Harrison.”

Husband:  Gotcha.  What’s for dinner?

Me:  No, wait a sec.  It could be a girl!

Husband:  We don’t get to eat supper if it’s a girl?

Me:  If it’s a girl, I love the name Jamie  – – do you remember Helen Hunt’s adorable character in “Mad About You?”  But I don’t want her to be 1 of 8 Jamie’s in her 1st. grade class.  So I have this idea. . .

Husband:  It’s an excellent idea.  Say, Little Jamie’s probably pretty hungry right about now, so whadya say we go grab some Chinese?  Again, wonderful idea!

Me:  You haven’t even heard the idea yet. I want to formally name her Jamisyn.  That way she has a Fallback Name if there are too many Jamie’s in her Kindergarten.  Plus she can go by “Jay-Jay” when she’s a baby and can’t pronounce her own name.  I like names with options.  Don’t you?  What do you think about options?

Husband:  Options are so important.  So would you prefer Chinese or Mexican?

Me:  You’re not paying any attention.  What have you heard?

Husband:  I heard that you want to give our daughter a name that she will not be able to pronounce.

Somehow I was able to bestow all six children with terrific names (including twin boys, ‘Dustin & Benjamin’ that came straight out of the movie The Graduate – – Dustin Hoffman played the character Benjamin Braddock!) that most everyone agreed were unique, but not bizarre.  Beautiful, yet not too cutesy.  And intelligent, yet not too nerdy.

So why couldn’t I think of a name for one simple blog?

You see, I knew about the concept of Branding and even wrote a post about how important it was.  (Check this out if you haven’t read it yet.)  Plus I used to write a Humor Column for my college newspaper and since my maiden name was Mark, I had some built-in natural branding coming my way – – I could’ve called my column, “Make Your Mark!” or “On Your Mark, Get Set….READ!!”  But I eventually decided upon, “Mark My Words” and it was wildly popular throughout campus.

But then I got married and my last name became a little more “worldly” as in ‘Mrs. Stephanie Atlas.’  However, I couldn’t think of any creative way to utilize that name other than claiming to be married to Mr. Universe, “Charles Atlas.”  So much for my worldly writing.

Sadly I got divorced and remarried to just become a plain ole “Lewis.”  Now I ask you, what can you possibly do with that boring last name?  (Oh hello there, 2nd Ex-Husband!)  Certainly it does not lend itself to a clever blog name.  And when naming your blog, there are no useful charts to consult.  You know, like the top 100 most popular names for male or female blogs.  What if I named my blog something that turned out to be the common equivalent of Jennifer or Jason from the 80’s?   Or a name that boxed me in to one particular theme?  For instance, I loved the witty name, “The Blogical Conclusion,” but I never make ANY sense at all.  And I take pride in that nonsensical personality trait.  Yep,  I can’t think of a worse fate than being pegged as Logical.

One day I came across a Blog Name Generator.  You can try it here.  But first please finish reading this, lest you become addicted enthralled with trying it out and continuously toying with naming your blog some of the ones it suggested for me.  “Chesty Language?”  (Hmmm, seems Mr. Blog Generator somehow knew about my post entitled, “The Quests for Smaller Breasts?”   But then it threw out, “Challenged Notebook” or “Screecher’s Blotter?”  Okaaaay.

Bottom line – –  for weeks I went around telling people I was an “Expectant Blogger,” (unfortunately Expectant Bloggers don’t get to park their cars closer to shopping malls, and nobody throws them a Bloggy Shower with white cake and presents either.)  and then finally it was my “Launch Day.”  That’s sort of like a blog’s birthday and when the official name excitedly gets revealed.

By that point, all I could think of was that cruel famous family with the last name of Hogg who named their poor daughter Ima.  (By the way, it’s a rumor they named her sister, “Ura.”)  So I was about to just go with, “Ima Blog” until my smartass ex-husband (would that be #1 or #2?)  suggested my blog have a middle name –  – “Randy.”  That was the end of that.

Maybe I was getting too clever for my own good.  I would just keep my own first name with the word “Blog.” Clean and Simple – – “Stephanie Blog.”  Perfect.  I could even honor my favorite movie star, Mae West, and call it “Stephanie Mae Blog.”  But then again, (after this nutty post) Stephanie May NOT Blog.  Ever again!

Leave me a message and tell me how you came up with your child’s name or your Blog name.  And then try the Blog Generator and tell me what it suggests!photo-252  http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/17/writing-challenge-names/

Menopause & Driver’s Training Don’t Mix!

photo-246

I am teaching my 16-year-old daughter how to drive. She’d prefer I don’t speak of our experience with anyone she knows. You’re not acquainted with my daughter, but if she happens to run into you (Don’t worry — I mean like on foot, let’s say in a store or a restaurant!) please immediately state the following, “Hi! I don’t know anything about any smashed-in parking attendant booth.” Thank you in advance for salvaging her privacy.

First, lemme just say I would simply love to meet the lawmaker who decided that someone who still gets acne, oily hair, Drama Queen Awards, collects Hello Kitty stickers, will admit she used to be on “Team Edward” and is prone to fits of giggles when I try to show her the movie, “Terms of Endearments” is the correct age to plunk down in the driver’s seat of my Toyota.

I was thinking of skipping the Driving-Right-of-Passage thing completely and just sending her to college in NYC, hoping she’d eventually get married and settle down blissfully on the subway system.

But somehow, she managed to pass the Online Driver’s Education course with flying colors. Notice I didn’t say with “driving” colors. Nevertheless, I took a deep breath and sent her on her first driving lesson with a paid professional last week. He returned in one hour sharp, asked for $300 dollars, two Tylenols and said he was going to have a root canal in a local bowling alley. Basically, he needed to do something less stressful than driving with my daughter down the quiet side streets of our neighborhood. And he has two steering wheels and passenger brakes in his car.

Before the next lesson, I decided to give her a few of my own tips. You know, those subtle nuances of driving that nobody else can teach you.

Driving Guidelines You Must Learn On Your Own

1. Drive defensively. Assume everyone is an idiot and doesn’t know what they’re doing. Everyone but me.

2. In a left hand-turn lane (without the green arrow to help you know when it’s safe to turn) do not succumb to the pressure of the man behind you who incessantly honks and yells, “Will you go already, you stupid dame!” while checking which way the wind is blowing with his middle finger.

3. Leave one car length between you and the vehicle in front of you for every 10 miles-per-hour you’re traveling. A good rule of thumb is if you can finish singing the chorus of, “It’s All About the Bass” before you rear-end the car in front of you, you’re fine.

4. When other drivers let you cut in front of them, be sure and give them “The Hand.” You know, that little gesturing wave that says, “Thank you for not being a jerk like everyone else on the road and letting me in because you’re obviously a mother yourself and can understand what it’s like when you almost miss your exit and are late for your therapy session.”

5. Don’t toot your horn in rhythms that sound suspiciously like Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls” or the beginning of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.”

6. Don’t memorize the eye chart at the DMV because you think you’ll look old(er!) in glasses.

7. We don’t call it “your blind Spot” anymore. But be careful of your “sight impaired spot,” because you have several!

8. Whenever you have the inclination to make an illegal u-turn, it’s a sign that you have lots of regrets in your life. So just make another appointment with that nice therapist.

9. Keep important documents like proof of insurance and registration in an envelope clearly marked, “These are not fast food coupons, notes for future blogs or super flattering selfies taken at stoplights that don’t show your crow’s feet.”

10. Never answer your cell phone while driving unless you can tell by the angry, persistent ring that it’s me calling you to pick up toilet paper and Ranch dressing.

11. Using certain interior features costs you more gasoline. No air-conditioning unless it’s the Hot Flash from Hell. Don’t put the heat on unless it’s to blow-dry your hair or defrost the lamb chops you forgot you’re making for dinner.

12. Don’t call AAA auto club, crying about locking your keys in the car more than once a week. If you do, make up a new last name. We’ve already used up our quota for that particular issue thru the year 2022.

13. Don’t trust the little dashboard gauge that says you can drive five more miles before running out of gas. I’ve called the Toyota dealer and made them admit a practical joker engineer designed that. Also ignore the funny-looking symbols that light up for no apparent reason at various mysterious times of driving. Those were programmed in by the author of the car manufacturer’s manual in the hopes his “book” would become a best-seller.

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(above) The author of the Car Manufacturer’s Manual also loves Exclamation Points!!!!!!!!!

14. Remember the acronym “A COMB AND BRUSH” which stands for, “Always Call On Mom Before Arriving Near Dangerous Boys Rarely Using Safety Harnesses.” If it’s too late for that and you’ve already hit the handsome parking lot attendant, simply remember what McDonalds claims to use in their Fillet-O-Fish. COD. (Call On Dad!)

Me: OK, that’s it. What do you think?

Daughter: Don’t worry, Mom. When we’re done with me, I can save my allowance and we’ll get you some driving lessons too.

You might be asking why I’m rushing this process. After all, many kids don’t get their license until they’re closer to 17 or 18. It’s because teaching her to drive has aged me far more than any menopausal symptom ever has, and I’ll be needing someone to drop me off at the Senior Citizen Home next week.

 

What’s in Your Bag? (a guessing game!)

photo-244Some Ladies magazines do a column, “What’s inside a certain Celebrity’s designer bag?”  It usually features hints on what products to buy – –  so you too can look just like the actual movie star!  But we know better than to think that carrying a designer keychain like Jennifer Aniston will have us carrying her gorgeous figure too.   But today, in honor of Spring Cleaning (Whoever thought that concept up had far too much time on HIS hands)  I have decided to go through my own bag.  But why should I stop there??

 

Checking out my bag today, what the heck’s in my purse?

Wouldn’t it be all the more fun to describe it in verse?

There’s lipstick, mascara, & crumbly pink blush,

Chewing Gum, a Birthday Tiara to feel Royal in a rush.

Saltines and single serve apples, pummeled to mush,

And a stray tampon in packaging marked, “Please Do Not Flush.”

Where’s the gift cards, the American Express, the cold, hard cash?

Just a few coins, wrinkled tissues, and some creme for diaper rash.

That’s kinda funny, when my “baby” is old enough to curse.

But just when I think rummaging can’t get much worse . . .

From a funeral yesterday, I have a business card for a hearse?

Where's the beef??

Where’s the beef??

Moving on to my kitchen, what’s going down in my Fridge?

Aside from greenish Provalone (and hey that’s just a Smidge!)

Besides, I assert to my family, if the truth were to be told…

Where do you think cheese comes from, if not from a bit of mold?

On the Top Shelf, you can see “Top Chef” has obviously been fired,

Hardened Kraft macaroni (and more cheese!) leaves little to be desired.

Oh wait!  He wasn’t laid-off – – he tossed his white puffy hat and promptly retired.

After all, what’s left to prepare when the eggs and the butter have expired?

In the produce drawer, (like my purse!) exists apples, but I use the term loosely,

Let’s just say there’s no need for a blender to get fruit in this house juicely.

Tupperware = the Family Game, “Guess what lives in here for your dinner?”

Who needs Weight Watchers?  This is the most effective way to get thinner.

One last look at the freezer’s contents, and I turned and I smiled,

“We’re eating out tonight, kids – – next life you should be born to Julia Child.”

It's an Auto Buffet!

It’s an Auto Buffet!

But just when I thought it was safe for us to pile in behind the wheel,

Under the passenger’s side, I found part of a McDonald’s Happy Meal.

But a mother’s instinct sensed I should probably take another peek…

And lo and behold, out rolled a carton of yogurt and it was actually Greek!

But I ask you, what else would you expect from a mother this chic?!?

In the seat pockets, were napkins, cups and silverware galore,

Ketchup packs, soda cans and french fries littered the car floor.

In the glove compartment were remnants of steak cooked by flame,

I’ll tell you, this gourmet vehicle really put my refrigerator to shame.

So I cranked up the Bee Gees and flickered on and off the interior light.

“Welcome to Mom’s Disco” I said, “We’re eating in the Toyota tonight!”

Age is Just a Number – – Ha! Age is a Bunch of Numbers!

An actual card given to me this Saturday from some young Whippersnapper.

An actual card given to me this Saturday from some young Whippersnapper.

“AGE IS JUST A NUMBER!”  People like to quote that old bumper sticker adage when they’re in a relationship with one person who is significantly younger or older than they are.  (yet they want things to work)  Well, I cannot begin to tell you how much I wish that romantic topic is what I’ll be writing about today.

But alas, I turn 50 on Wednesday, so instead this is going to be about getting older, so I can submit it to the WordPress Prompt before I get too old to comprehend the entry rules.  Maybe it’s a contest or Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes I can win….Ed McMahon lurking?

Therefore the numbers I am going to focus on are all the numbers that younger people who like to say, “Age is Just a Number” don’t EVER have to worry about.   Are you ready to examine them?  Let’s go!

115/65 – – This is my blood-pressure.  That is, when I am not contemplating how much I’d like to teach a good, “strong” lesson to all the young troublemakers who chirp, “Age is just a number.”

210 – – This is my total cholesterol and I defy you to find two articles that agree this is a bad number without giving you some ratio formula that sends you back to 8th grade math class.  And then where would you be?  Passing, “Do you like me?” notes to cute Jeff W?  Or maybe to cute Susan M?  Because after all, “Gender is just a word.”

1,310 – – This is the number of Calories that “they” claim I can take in and still maintain my current weight, (a number by the way, that shall remain nameless numberless?)   Yeah, sure!  This is also the exact number of sit-ups & push-ups I’ll need to do, plus the # of times I must run around my block if I eat anywhere NEAR that number of calories!

148 – – The number of my friends over forty who can relate to what I’m talking about here.  At least I’m not alone. And yes, misery DOES love company.  Misery particularly loves when the company you keep makes you look far better in comparison. (Hey, everything is relative!)  You know, like surrounding yourself with older, uglier and duller – – so that suddenly you start to look pretty darn good?!  Keeping this theory in mind – – if you’re ever looking for me from this point on, you’ll find me happily posing on the sofa pictured below.

That's right! I'll look like a ravishing bride if I get married sitting on this left cushion.

That’s right! I’ll look like a ravishing bride if I get married sitting on this left cushion.

5 – – Average number of times in a week I lose my keys. We’re coming off a high-achieving week right now because it’s actually been 8 times.  But I finally got smart and made copies so I have two more sets left until I’m really desperate.  They called me from Target on Friday and urgently declared, “Miss Menopause?? We just found your car keys in our shopping cart!”  I magnanimously said, “That’s okay.  Give them to someone more needy than I.”  Then I leisurely strolled to retrieve my 9th set from my jewelry box.

16 – – Number of times I look at my hair in a mirror per day and say, “Gray is the new Brunette.”

.2 – – This is the amount of Testosterone that courses thru my veins.  1. Google the amount in the average woman.   2. Google what kind of things Testosterone influences in your body.  3. Agree with me that I will never get remarried if I cannot raise this number.

4 – – Number of hours I sleep in a night.  This is on a good night.  This is because of a) 26 hot-flashes  b) 22 thoughts of,  “I better not forget to do such ‘n such tomorrow. c) 6 night sweats (don’t tell me this is the same thing as a hot-flash.  It’s not!)   d)  3  reoccurring, terrifying nightmares that I got remarried on that couch pictured above.  Or remarried at all.  d)  16 funny noises (not “ha-ha” like a whoopie cushion) that I think I hear at 1:45 am, which subsequently require my walking thru the entire house with a baseball bat.  e) 2 realizations that I should probably make my sports-enthusiast son a baseball themed birthday party.  f)  80 –  the number of google searches at 4 am it takes me to find a local bakery that will make the perfect baseball diamond-shaped cake.

14 and 1/2 – – The number of times someone tells me in a day that I am “a little bit” obsessive/compulsive.  The 1/2 is from someone else who also has OCD and keeps changing their mind.

2650 – – Number of piano lessons I was “encouraged” to have between the ages of 8-16 years old because my mother told me I would be popular at parties. “After all, everyone loves a good sing-along,” she cajoled.

0 (zero) – – Number of times I have been dragged to a piano and requested to play Moonlight Sonata or a Polka by ANYONE at all during some wild musical bash in someone’s home.

4 – – Number of times my mother reads my blog in a week so I can say, “See?  I told you so.”

22 – – The average number of pills YOU Dear Reader will need to take every single day  (to keep all the above numbers in control!) as you age.  Note:  I however, will NOT be ingesting any of this junk because I’ve officially changed my mind about this whole entire thing.  I don’t need to win any writing contest about aging.  I withdraw my entry! Forget it! (What writing contest?  See it’s already forgotten!) I’m doing just fine as a young spring chicken, thank you very much.

Age is a bunch of numbers (and a bunch of pills?) No Thank You!

Age is a bunch of numbers (and a bunch of pills?) No Thank You!

What “number” bothers you the most about aging?  Can you make light of it?  Leave me a comment below!

NEVER Throw Yourself a Bawling Birthday Party! (plus Text Eavesdropping!)

Bowling or Bawling? What's the difference at this point in the game?

Bowling or Bawling?
What’s the difference
at this point in the game?

Disclaimer:  I admit it.  It was not an accidental typo.  But “Bawling/Bowling?”  Who cares.  I’m probably going to do both this weekend.   The bottom line is when you’re over age 10, apparently you should never plan your own celebration.  Even if you clearly state, “No Gifts.” And EVEN if you’re turning 50 and a previously scheduled surprise party was accidentally ruined.  Okay, okay, you ruined it by being too nosy (read HERE) but STILL.

Let me backtrack.  Here is the invite. photo-237 By the way, even though you can’t see the bottom part, it clearly says, “No children, please.  But Adults who “feel” like a kid are especially welcome.  Let’s just have fun!” Then it elaborates that it will be casual, food, drink, bowling and mentions “catching up with old friends – – walking down Memory Lane at a Bowling Lane.”  Clever, right?  I thought so.  Then I made the RSVP responses with bowling puns, which were rather witty too. (If i don’t say so myself.  Boy, when you kill that Inner Critic voice, you do become rather cocky!)  The RSVP card went like this:

RSVP PLEASE!

Yes!  (I’m ready to Roll)

Maybe  (It’s a Split, I’ll let you know very soon)

No!  (Can’t Spare the time, sorry.)

Now, a question for you.  Anywhere above, do you see the following response?   “I’m a Mystery Guest.  You will NEVER know if I’m coming, or if I even got this invitation at all.  Have fun.  That’s my birthday gift to you.  Because I know you need to learn how to give up control.”

Two days before the event and over half the potential guests are going with that.

That’s what you get for making your own party, I guess.

I also asked people to specify if they were bowling or just spectating, since I need to pay in advance for shoes, plus guarantee there will be enough lanes together. Simple question, right?  Here’s just a sprinkling of responses I got.

“Hmmm, I haven’t bowled since I was ten.  What a novel idea.  So whadya think?  Should I ??”

“What?  You want me to wear shoes that announce to the world that I’m a size 9?”

“Oy, Stephanie, Stephanie!  You know your Uncle Charlie can’t stand all that racket.  Will you at least be providing earplugs?”  (I didn’t even know I HAD an Uncle Charlie.  Let alone one with sensitive hearing. When did Aunt Carla remarry?)

“Yes, Yes, Yes!  Put us down for 7 bowlers.  Susie wears a kids size 2, little Mitchie an infant 8 (wait till you see how curly his hair got!)  and the teens will probably only bowl a couple of games; but hopefully you’ll provide video tokens, and they’ll amuse themselves.”  (You saw that one coming, I hope.  The moment you say “Adults Only, these kind of RSVP’s come out of the woodwork.  But if you say, “Bring the kids!” —  They hire a babysitter a month in advance.

“My bursitis has been acting up when it rains. I’ll get back to you after the most recent weather report.”

“I was captain of the bowling team in high school.  You better believe I’m down for it.  I’m very competitive so hope your friends can buck up when they get mowed down.”

“I am really uncoordinated.  Will there be single men there? I guess I probably will try to bowl, but not if you invite that bitch, Tiffany.  She really gives me a bad vibe.”

“This is so funny.  It’s a costume thing, right?   All I can think of is Fred Flintstone and bowling.  I’m coming as Wilma.

“Hi!  Thanks so much for including me.  I haven’t ever told anyone this but I have a thing about putting my feet into places that other feet have been.  Therefore I will just come the last ten minutes or so. For the cake.  I get kinda queasy even thinking about all those people and their feet. But thanks so much for including me.  If I don’t show up, it means I got to feeling kinda defeeted.”

That’s what you get for making your own party, I guess.

Okay, ready for some nice phone calls?  Yep!

For a good time, call Little Miss Menopause!

For a good time, call Little Miss Menopause!

Ring Ring….

Guest #1 – –   Heya.  Making your own party, I see?  So what are you into these days?

Me – –  Huh?

Guest #1 – –   I want to get you something useful.  Gift card?

Me – –   Oh no.  Please.  I wrote “No gifts.”

Guest #1 – –  Yeah, yeah – – C’mon, everyone says that just to be polite.  Love that cute thing about, “Your presence is enough of a present for me.”

Me – –  I didn’t write that.  I just said “No gifts.”

Guest #1 – –  So seriously, what do you get a spoiled brat who has absolutely everything SHE could ever want or need for her birthday??

Ring Ring…..

Guest #2 – – Hi Stephanie.  It’s Oscar. You know since the divorce,  I feel kind of self-conscious going anywhere solo. Which of your single women friends will be there?

Me – –  Hey Oscar.  Gosh, lots of single people in general.  But let’s see.  Women?  Tanya and . . .

Guest #2 – –  She that stacked redhead?  The 38 Double D?

Me – –  Uhhh…

Guest #2 –  – Sorry. How about that woman who was your maid-of-honor at your first wedding?

Me – –   Cynthia?  She died. That was 25 years ago, Oscar.

Guest#2 – –  So send me a picture of Tanya, will ya? And what the hell, Cynthia too.  And could you invite that girl who sometimes babysits for you?  Whatshername?  Lisa?   And what about that other set of sisters who do everything together, you know, they go rollerskating, they sing, and then they’re always smiling for the camera?

Me – –  The Doublemint Twins?

Ring Ring. . .

Bowling Alley – –  Hi there, Stephanie.  This is Barb, the manager at “Roll ‘Em, Bowl ‘Em, Console ‘Em!” Just finalizing a few things so your party will be “pitcher” perfect.  We don’t want to “strike-out” with you. Get it?  Strike out?

Me – – Isn’t that baseball talk?

Bowling Alley – – Whatever.  So we have you down for 35 people in three lanes, one with gutters, a tray of spicy, deep-fried Buffalo Bruiser Breasts, Bowling-Ball Sandwiches, Quesadillas Queso Cuties, Knock-Em Down Dumplings plus beer and wine.  Sorry, we don’t name our liquor anything cutesy.  And it’s up to you to monitor your guests safety for driving home.  All on the Visa that we ran your deposit on?

Me — Hold on. Wait. Hold it.

Bowling Alley – – A lot to take in, ain’t it?  Oh and Every Saturday night, we like to play music and dim the lights.  Most Saturdays it’s Pop or Oldies, which woulda been good for you, seeing as you’re 50, huh?  But I wanted to inform you that this Saturday, it’s gonna be a mix of classical music and then some country/western by request.  Hee Haw!

Me – – Hold it. First of all, only three lanes for 35 people?  And what’s with the gutters in one lane?  Also I didn’t order anything called Bowling Ball sandwiches.  How do I know if a guest is too drunk to drive?  And I completely despise country/western.photo-235

Bowling Alley – -Let me answer all that, Little Lady, maybe not necessarily in that order, but just hold yer horses and we’ll get this settled quicker than a tick on a bucking bronco.  (Little Lady?!  This manager is also a female!  And does anyone else detect that this person seems to be lapsing into “Hollywood Cowboy Talk?”)  So Bowling Ball sandwiches are really meatball.  35 people in three lanes is nice n’ cozy like,  but if you’re worried, we’ll surely keep some of your guests in the parking lot and rotate them in when others poop out. Gutters in one lane was by request.  One of your guests called to say that little Suzie has ADD and gets frustrated easy.  Them the ones probably get drunk the fastest.  And they’re also the ones who requested the music.  But doncha worry your pretty little head off, Country Western grows on ya quicker than you can say, “Round ’em up for a 50 year old who’s hotter than a tater-tot on a smoky grill!”

Me – – Okay.  Subject change, please.   Don’t you have any healthy fare to serve?

Bowling Alley – – I recken we do.  We got your Ring-a-Ding Onion Rings.  That’s a vegetable. Add some ketchup and you’ll be keepin’ that Doc away for days.

Me – – I am so very tired.

Bowling Alley – – That’s what you get for making your own party, I guess.

And Finally . . .  the Text That I Eavesdropped On (as Promised in My Title)

And despite what you think about me, this was a true accidental eavesdropping!  There was a three-way text a few weeks ago (you know how that goes, when one person starts up a group text and then everyone can see everything anyone writes from that point on?)  I think they both forgot that’s how things were set up.

Friend #1 – –  Hey!  You going to Stephanie’s thing?  Can you believe she’s throwing herself a party?  So I want to wear my new pink short skirt, but do you think that’s too much for bowling?  Why’d she have to make it bowling – -that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.  I’ve been avoiding sending my RSVP to see if Oscar might ask me out.  I’ve actually been avoiding her in general lately, she’s such a drag.

Friend #2  – –  Well, in her D-fense, she’s been really D-pressed lately.  But u can’t blame her.  Have u seen her i’s lately?  That’s why she keeps those sunglasses on.  Even her wrinkles have wrinkles.  Ha!  Also, u need 2 use text lingo, k?

Friend #1  – –  You’re so bad that you are good.  Oh well, we shouldn’t say these things.  Someday, we’ll be there ourselves.  But not for another twenty years, Right??   LOL.  LMAO.  ROFLBISF!    CU  L8ter  BFF!  Is that better abbreviations?

Friend #2  —  Yup! U R 2 cool.   Luv ya GF!!! xoxoxoxoxoxox

Ring, Ring

Friend #1 – – Hey Stephanie.  Sorry I’m getting your voice mail yet again.   Been trying to track you down forever, Birthday Girl. So excited that you’re doing this party for yourself.  You so deserve it.  And bowling!!  As soon as I saw that invite, I was like, “That is the best idea ever.  I am soooo there!”  And you look amazing.  Nobody would even think you’re 35, like me,  let alone 50.  I’ll be carpooling with Tiffany, so if you need anything at all, just let either of us know.  Can’t wait, Steph!  Bye!”

Alright, I’m not gonna say it again, but – – “that’s what I get for….”

This morning a package arrived on my doorstep.  With a card.  Wow.  My first birthday present even though I said “No Gifts!”

Stephanie – – Just a little something to thank you for always playing matchmaker. I told you it wasn’t necessary though. I knew the right woman would find me when she was ready. We’re getting hitched this weekend so I won’t be able to make your party.  Tell Cynthia to have fun without me. Bet she got fat anyway, after 25 years.

Happy Birthday,

Oscar

I opened it up.  A new CD.  “The Best of Country & Western.”  Naturally.

FOOTNOTE:  This work has major embellishments, name changes, menu changes, bra-size changes, and complete utter nonsense.  But there really is a bowling party.  I really am nearly 50.  And I really am tired!  Now don’t forget – – Friday at midnight (Pacific time) is the deadline to win either one of these prizes with two SUPER easy contests.  See this post for more.  Click here

The Blogcademy Awards (The Bloscars!) – Will You Win?

Image Credit to the Skyscanner.com who for some reason uses this word (which I thought I made up) to run a contest for Travel Bloggers. They appear to be an airline?

Image Credit to the Skyscanner.com who for some reason uses this word (which I thought I made up!) to run a contest for Travel Bloggers. They appear to be an Airline.

C’mon, admit it.  You just knew you’d find me with this Blog title today, right?  With my love of inventing Blogger Vocabularly (read here) and how I honored the Winter Olympics with “The Writer Olympics” (read here) and Super Bowl Sunday (read here) then it follows there must be an event called “The Bloscars.”

Now let’s walk the Red-Carpet and enter the actual Post to see the grandeur that awaits, shall we?  Beware of the Blogarazzi with their blinding camera flashes, whoops and hollers.  Smile nicely, with that odd, “look over your shoulder at who-the-hell-knows what” type of pose.  Maybe all bloggers should keep looking over their shoulder for the next odd thing to happen to them?photo-217

THE PRE-CEREMONY TIME WASTERS & A PRIZE!

Welcome! First of all – – instead of Ellen Degeneres and pizza, you’re stuck with me serving Blogdogs on Buns. Children Bloggers get CornBlogs.  Sorry.  I won’t pass a hat around for $ contributions, but please don’t blog one single word about how I didn’t take into account alternative meal options for Blegetarians and Blegans.  We like our blogs meaty here!  i.e. – – “Where’s the Beef  Blog ??”

photo-216Insert your Favorite Opening Dance Sequence Here to the left.  Idina Menzel (pronounce it however you like, but give John Travolta a break- – he’s barely “Staying Alive” since his Saturday Night Fever stint) can also sing “Let It Go” from the animated film, Frozen, which is what happens to Bloggers who refresh their Stats page too much.  Their computer freezes.

And yes, there will be a Selfie Photo Contest, so let’s take down Twitter…Wordpress!  No WordPressure, but please take a photo of the front page of your Blog the way that it looks on your laptop/computer with you (the proud Blog creator!)  in the photo as well.  Shy, retiring, inhibited, insecure, and/or paranoid Bloggers (that would be me) feel free to just portray your blog alone, without any human in the pic.   Put the photo or a link to the photo (since I don’t know if it’s even possible to post a photo here?  Some of the higher-tech Bloggers will tell me, no doubt) in the comments section and the winner (based on the most eye-catching, creative photo) will receive two movie passes. (or the equivalent of such, on an Amazon Gift Card)  Deadline will be this Friday, the 7th of March to post Selfie photos and a winner will be picked and prize awarded on my birthday, March 12th.  Since I will have nothing better to do on that day, other than to sob about turning 50.

And Now . . . The Blotion Picture Blogcademy Proudly Presents . . . THE BLOSCARS! (think of orchestras rising here)

During the silence that follows each category,  please imagine who would deserve this particular award in your own real life world or Online world that you call your Blogosphere.  I would never be so presumptuous as to start naming Names here!  The idea is to get YOU thinking about the kinds of people (bloggers and non-bloggers alike) that you consciously surround yourself with each and every day.  It CAN make a difference.

And the Featured Categories Are ????

Best Supportive Commenter:  Who regularly leaves you lots of love?

Best Editor:  Which individual do you count on to give your posts a onceover, so you don’t get blatant errors like “onceover” when published?

Best Original Score UnderScore: (Note: Strikeovers would also fall in this category)

Best Blog Header:  Your eye was drawn immediately!

Best Blog Background:  It compliments, rather than detracts.

Best Song: (Oh!  I feel another contest coming on!)  In the comments section below, please leave the one best song (with either a Title or the well known chorus lyrics) that would best suit your blog.  In other words, you would most want to have this song blasting when someone clicks open your blog.  Give a brief explanation as to why you chose this song. One winner will be announced (same dates given for the Selfie Photo contest above) and awarded a $20 itune Gift Card.  Looking again for Creativity here and some Wordplay. (See InspireTheWorld2Day (who happens to be the first entry) in the comments section below for a clear example.)

Best Tagger:  Who gets the best traffic from tags?

Best Motivator:  Who inspires your ideas?  Which individual do you most find yourself telling to “hold that thought” for a second while you jot something down in your “Blog Notebook”  You do have one of those, right?!?

Best Brusher-Off-er:  Who changes the subject the fastest when you bring up your Blog?

Best and Worse Dressed List

Clothing is a huge deal.  I know.  Just not here. And breasts are not going to be mentioned here at all.  If you want to know why, go here.   So alternatively,  there will be no hiring Mr. Blackwell  Blogwell to ogle (blogle) and rave or conversely rant/diss any certain Blogger’s Pajamas Attire – – but the following categories will rhyme with the word “Dressed” instead.  You should nod your head right about now and see this as a perfectly suitable solution.

Best Jest:  Favorite Non-Serious Blog

Best Guest:  Who regularly has the most interesting Blogger Guests writing for them?

Best Blessed:  Whose Blog seems to have the most Gratitude or Grace?

Best Addressed:  Who takes a Controversial Subject and Nails it?

Best Confessed:  Who takes the opportunity of blogging to bare their soul, show their authentic truth?

Best Assessed:  Who is the Best Reviewer you know.  Books, Movies, Food, etc. Their opinion matters to you!

Best Compressed:  Who can blog in the fewest words you know and still make it work?  Really distill down their ideas so you just get the concentrated bottom line from them?

Best Distressed & Stressed:  Who is always having an issue?  Yes, this could be a Drama Blog, but maybe not?

Best Obsessed:  Who focuses on just one topic every single solitary time, but you love them anyway?

Best Cardiac Arrest:  Who shocks you the most with their outrageousness?

Best Nest:  Which Parent Blogger gets the most “oohs and ahs” because their love of family shines through?

Best Quest:  Who seems to have the loftiest goal or purpose in Blogging?

Best Teenage Blogger who is wise beyond their years:  Hey that doesn’t rhyme?  That’s right, just seeing if you are paying attention.

Best Contest:  Who regularly has Blog Giveaways that excite you?

Best Pest:  Who is that Blogger you wish you could secretly Unfollow?

Best Rest:  Their Blog is where you hang out when you want to unwind and relax.

Best Pressed:  They haven’t been Freshly Pressed, but you think that’s just a matter of time. Either that or they make really good freshly squeezed orange juice.

Best Detest:  Okay, you hate their blog.  You don’t follow it at all, but you’re aware of its presence and you want them to clean up their act.

Best Intelligence Test:  Wow, are they just off the chart smart or what??  Do you even belong there as a reader?  Yep, you do!

Best Request:  They’re the Blog-Pleasers.  They will do what you ask because they want crowd approval.  But do you really know what they’re about?

Best Impressed: They are the equivalent of the  Name   Blog-Dropper who wants you to admire their Blog for the Flash, not the substance.

Best Protest:  They are never going to be happy unless they can keep blogging about how unhappy the world makes them.

Best Mae West:  “Why don’t you come up and see me sometime?”  That’s right, I finally ran out of rhymes that had any connection to blogging! And besides we needed a real movie star right about now.

Along with leaving a comment, Please don’t forget to enter one or both contests above (Selfie & Song) and we’ll see you next year at the BLOSCARS! Also signing up to follow my blog will guarantee you won’t miss the next time I get zany enough to decide to bizarrely tie a Giveaway Contest with a Posting Topic.

Skip the movie, “Her.” And forget about “Him” too. I’ve got something much better!

photo-214“HER,” the 2014 movie, was up for the Best Picture of the year during this past Oscar’s Awards.  “A man falls in love with the operating system on his computer” – –  An Academy Award winning premise, if I’ve ever heard one.  In fact, I was thinking I would write Part II,  but then decided that Hollywood can keep its futuristic, gimicky sequel starring whatever latest/greatest high-tech invention comes out next.  Prequels ARE where it’s at, Baby!  That’s right – –  I am writing the Prequel to HER.  Before there were computers, cell phones, ipads and Tivo.  I’m calling my movie, “THEM!”

Because why should YOU be monogamous with an inanimate object?

Any good screenplay starts off with great characters and some riveting plot points . . . so here we go!

PLOT

An ignored, unappreciated wife and mother, (Doris) finds the gratification she needs in her male household appliances.

CAST

The Dishwasher – an automatic, erotic, steamy sort of fellow with a very dry sense of humor. Our housewife is immediately smitten by the strength of his (stainless steel!) hard exterior and his commitment to energy saving efficiency.  His hidden Touchpad Controls only add to his mystery, not to mention he’s completely silent when he gets turned on. An added bonus – – he once told Doris that dishpan hands can be very sexy.  “You’re soaking in it~Palmolive” . . .  Mmmm, she could really come clean with him!

The Toaster Oven – – This space-saving appliance is far more convectional than that conventional, crusty old oven. Surely a relationship with him would heat-up consistently and evenly, plus he’d always remember her personal setting preferences. This could be the best thing since sliced bread.  Besides Doris knows which side her toast gets buttered on!

The Crock Pot – – So deliciously slow and steady – –  love could really simmer into a frenzied, bubbling boil with someone like this.  And he accomplishes so much while she sleeps or goes to the office.  My god, who could ever find another man like this?!  And his 2 qts are just as effective as other 8 qts, proving to Doris once and for all that size truly does not matter.  The only thing that’s kinda worrisome is how he once stewed in his own juices when she ignored him for a few nights.  Can he get over that and move on? She could always utilize his temperature probe to ask these probing questions later.  And if he can’t?  Well, Doris thinks that’s just a crock of… Sh#t!

See Doris' Purse. But where's Doris? Could be in (with) the bathtub?!!

See Doris’ Purse. But where’s Doris? Could she be in (with) the bathtub?!!

The Microwave – – A lover to turn Doris Inside-Out!  Such an explosive and fiery personality, but she must try to remember his pet-peeve about aluminum foil.  Talk about sparks flying!  And the things they share in common; oh my, it’s endless – – popcorn, pizza, baked potatoes; never eating frozen dinners alone again!  Yes, he knows every single one of her hot buttons and never hesitates to push them.

The Blender – – Ah, what a smooth-talking, masterful, machine man. But get him agitated, and he’ll cut you like a knife. There’s just no mincing words about the complexity of this guy’s features.  He makes quick work of their relationship, getting to the heart of the matter, (especially with artichokes) but he never truly peels the layers of her psyche slowly (like an onion) in that gentle way she craves.  Besides he so often mixes her up, crushing her hopes, and reducing her to an emotional puree – – she already knows she must let go of her whipping fantasies with him.

The vacuum cleaner – What can you say?  Theirs is a push/pull type of relationship.  As a lover, he totally sucks.  And she can’t stand what he does to her bare, hardwood floors. Yet Doris is completely drawn in by his proud, upright posture and some of his maneuvers in the bedroom just can’t be beat.  Oh dear, “beat” makes her yearn for that Blender again.  But just look at the shape of this guy’s can-ister!

The Freezer – – He’s completely off limits.  He once had the nerve to call her, “Frigid.”

The Ceiling Fan – –  A spinning, dizzying type of love.  Doris thinks he’s the best thing for occasional hot flashes.  But like the freezer, he sometimes chills her to the bone.  A cooling off period is probably best for both.

The Clock Radio – – Once upon a time, they made time stand still together.  Such a good time, tuning his stations, cranking up the volume of their love.  Time was of the essence and time flew when they were having fun. But suddenly time stopped.  And then time passed her by.  Because there’s no time like the present.  He no longer plays their song either; just jolts her awake in the mornings with his loud vibrational snores.  What a buzz kill.   Doris actually wants to kill time. But time would tell.  And then she would have too much time on her hands.  Could they save time by having a baby together?  Would that be in the Nick of time?  Could he be Father Time?  Maybe. Because everyone knows Time heals all wounds.

The Hussy!
The Hussy!

THE PLOT THICKENS!

A very lovely, black baby grand piano comes into the home, showcasing her musical talents. No piano legs on this broad.  She seems to hold the key (all 88 of them!) to harmony for the entire house. Doris is insanely jealous because whenever she plays “Just Whistle while you work,” all the other appliances seem to hum along just fine without her.

That’s when Doris makes a very efficient decision. She quickly writes all the males in the house a note with the mechanical pencil she’d grown fond of.  The men find their “Dear John” letters sitting on the toilet.  The fireplace instantly goes up in smoke over his old flame’s absence, while the Smoke Detector is alarmed at the speed of her departure.  The Coffee Maker thinks it could be grounds for divorce. But it had to happen.  Even the Front Door knows this is an open and shut case, though he still feels a bit unhinged as she slams past him.

THE CLIMAX  

Doris drives off with her husband’s best Car.  He was her back-up plan all along because she knows he’ll steer her toward happiness, while revving both their motors.  They are both so driven towards success, that one big brake is all it takes to make the new movie, “THEM” a Mega Hit (and run).  Just ask Doris, she auto know!

FOOTNOTES:  No Kitchen equipment or devices will be harmed during rehearsals, as the director is a member of the “Appliance Compliance Alliance.”  Please also note that filming for this movie broke down when the Production Studio forgot to pay their Gas and Electric bills, thus necessitating all the actors to go on strike, except for the Piano.  We promise this movie will be repaired  coming soon – – so Look for it in a theater or drive-in near you!

7 Things Guys Don’t Notice, But Should. Now with some extra (older!) female input!

Disclaimer:  I simply could not resist co-blogging with this man! He probably doesn’t even know I exist, let alone that I impulsively joined forces with him, adding my own tongue-in-cheek commentary to his profound, serious advice.  I think we’re a good blog team, no? So here’s a very good-natured post from Mr. James Michael Sama, (a highly intuitive, renowned writer on dating, relationships, motivation and success) and here I am – – adding my (older)  female point-of-view.  Original post here.   If you don’t already do so, Please follow his blog.  His original text is in black  font below, while my older (see how wrinkled and exhausted my words are!?)  womanly input appears in red.

Take it away, Mr. Sama . . .

I know, man, you’re not really into the whole “prim and proper” thing. Your girlfriend enjoys fashion and dresses nicely but all you think the red bottoms on her shoes mean is that she walked through some wet paint.  Actually more like we walked through some wet blood, (yours?) after you inferred it was just some red paint on our $1500 Louboutin shoes!

Not every guy has an appreciation for style or fashion, but what they should have, is an appreciation for their woman, her interests, and the efforts she puts forth. No truer words! If you pay just a little more attention, it will show her that you care enough to notice the small things.  But what’s important is WHY you are paying us the attention.  If you have to be instructed to do it by some smart, hot hunk named James Micahel Sama, (who writes great blogs!) well – – we’re gonna wish that we could pay HIM some attention.  It always comes down to the motivation, guys.

Given that fashion and style are the primary topics of this article, here are 7 details to get you started. Image

Her makeup probably matches something. Her makeup matches her mood when she woke up that morning and put it on. Do you see the “I’m ready to take on the world,” mascara?  No? Neither do I.  How about the “It’s Too Damn Early for Rosy Cheeks” shade of blush?  There ya go!

 However, if the sun is about to set and she’s reapplied some makeup (gentlemen, don’t expect both this AND dinner too!) then all that goop will now match the emotions she’s hoping to elicit from you during your night together.  Is she looking sweet and innocent? (soft, muted pastel tones)  Probably not the night to try tying each other to the bedposts.  Stick to hugging, cuddling and baking cookies.  (Let her lick the bowl with those childlike eyes.  Well, give her a spoon, actually.)   Look closely (not too closely!) – – is there a bold lip-color or well-defined brow going on?  She means business and wants to be taken seriously.   Let her sell you some real estate or stocks and bonds.  Make-up smeared, with haphazard application of smoky shadows?  She wants you thinking about just HOW she got that disheveled look…tumbling luxuriously between the sheets like a vixen, no doubt. Or could it be thanklessly toiling over the toilets, scrubbing floors only to have them thoughtlessly re-footprinted by the people that make her life a living H$%*. . . oops, wrong blog!

If you guys are going out to dinner and she’s wearing, say, gold accessories – it’s likely that her eyeshadow or tint of her makeup will be some version of gold(ish) as well. Or this could be your very first tip-off that she’s a Gold Digger and you’re about to become her King Midas.  Careful with the “Golden” themed girls, Men. There will probably be some correlation between the color(s) she chooses and the rest of her outfit. Which will be especially interesting for you in public if she’s wearing polka dots, stripes or animal prints that particular night. 

Since she is clearly putting effort into this, it’s a nice thing to notice and compliment her on to let her know you’re paying attention. Actually most of her effort in putting on makeup is so you will NOT notice it at all. Especially the “older woman trying to age gracefully.”  Please don’t remark that she did an awesome job covering those crows feet and furrows. Or, “Ya know something? You don’t look nearly as haggard tonight. Send my regards to Maybelline!”  Only point out the sheer, radiant beauty of HER essence shining through.  I know, I know – – Could anything make less sense?  We women enjoy diligently putting something on our faces (and taking our sweet time doing it) so that it will disappear, like we aren’t wearing a stitch of makeup at all.  Just sayin’ – – complimenting her actual makeup could go over just as well as remarking, “Stunning Girdle you’re stuffed into tonight, Babe.”

Bonus: Her eye makeup is probably applied in order to bring out her eyes and make them pop. Notice.  Yes, try saying this to her  – – “Love how much your eyes pop tonight, Gorgeous.  Kinda makes me crave Rice Krispy cereal – – snap, crackle . . . POP!”  Utter these few words and she’ll be all over you in minutes.  Emphasis on “all over.”

She got a new purse (and it matches her shoes).

Her purse, or clutch, will always match her shoes. Sometimes her purse will match your wallet. This is a subtle, subliminal suggestion on her part that your finances should become “One.”  What’s yours is hers and what’s hers is also still hers.  Nifty, huh?  Now, match doesn’t always mean blue and blue, it could mean they correlate somehow or share a certain print, pattern, or the like. Use your visual memory and at least ask if something is new if you don’t think you’ve seen it before (make sure though, because if you have seen it, she’ll know you didn’t notice). Ah, ah, ah – – tread lightly here!  If you ask her if something is new and not only have you forgotten that you’ve seen it before, but you are also the one who picked it out for last year’s anniversary present – – you won’t stand a chance.  Another caution:  If we’re asked if something is new, our guard automatically goes up because we sense the next question will be, “How much did it cost?”  Therefore, everything we wear will be, (without fail) some old hand-me down rag from our sister.  Even if we don’t have a sister.

Keeping in mind that the purse will go with the shoes, it’s usually a safe bet for a compliment when she’s dressed up.  But watch for those tricky girls who carry a purse that’s shaped like a shoe.  They’re just waiting to “trip you up” in the compliment game.   You might try saying something like, “Wow – – looks you have three left feet tonight, doncha Honeybunch?” Put your own running shoes on right before you say that.

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She got a haircut. 

Sometimes a girl will just need an inch off the bottom or a trim to clean up her hair, it might not be too noticeable but usually it’s not too difficult to tell if a woman is fresh out of the salon.  Sobbing over how the stylist didn’t listen to her is usually a big tip-off.  I’d actually steer clear from this topic. Similar category as make-up.  Just tell her she is beautiful and be done with it.  Note the wording in that sentence.  She doesn’t “look” beautiful. She IS beautiful.  Keep stressing that it’s her inside loveliness you are drawn to.  You don’t have to be able to pinpoint the exact change, but asking if she changed her hair leads you into one of two situations:

1, no I didn’t. Your response: Oh, well, it looks really nice today/tonight.  Hopefully you can say, “it looks really nice this morning,” because you’ve been with her overnight?

2: yes I did. Your response: Mental victory dance.  Followed by, “And how much did THAT cost?” if she was foolish enough to admit to anything more than going to a Supercuts chain store.

Her mood is off.

Man, this one isn’t so small, is it?!   This one is sooooo NOT small that it probably should have been listed first.  Actually it should have been his title.  That’s it, men!  Write a post called, “Her Mood is Off” (Subtitle:  And Now MY World Has Gone to Hell in a Hand Basket!)  The majority of communication is not verbal, and while this goes for all aspects of life it’s especially true when you’re in a relationship. The adage “it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it” (or how she growls it) comes to mind, and guys should pay attention more to how a woman is acting rather than what she’s saying.  That is correct.  You must become highly proficient at the game known as “Charades.”  Although, chances are she won’t give you overt clues like holding her finger up for the 1st  word, (well maybe just one certain finger!) and announcing to you the # of syllables in her emotions.  Nor will she pantomime the universal sign for, “It’s a Movie Title, Stupid.”  But if it WERE a movie title, it would be, “It’s Complicated!”  You’re just supposed to automatically know that she was earlier insulted by a catty female coworker, her stocking has a run in it, and if you touch her anywhere near her mid-section after she thinks she ate too many mashed potatoes (don’t you see that yellow police Caution tape “Crime Scene:  Do Not Cross!” strategically placed above her knees and below her chin??) the entire night will be romantically shot and killed. And you, Kind Sir — YOU will be the alleged culprit.

Often times she’s not going to tell you something is wrong or that she wants to be comforted – but you should pay enough attention to be able to tell.  You can’t really ever go wrong with “comforting” her.  Study the many forms this can take!  Consider putting See’s Candy or Godiva Chocolates on autodial.  You never truly know a woman until you understand the things she’s not saying to you. Ah, the underlying theme, premise and moral of this entire post!  Presumably if you’re on this blog, you’re an avid reader?  Well just look upon your woman as a favorite and most cherished book – – (and hopefully a Best Seller) knowing that there’s much more to her than meets the eye, and you MUST learn to read between the lines in order to stay on the same page.

She got her nails did.  (Well now, that’s pretty darn cute what he just did there with the wordplay.  Females, (especially female writers) adore wordplay!  Try it out.  He pretty much just “nailed it” for me with that one right there. I could care less what he says about my polish now. But let’s just see, shall we? – –

This one is easy. Were her nails chipping last week but now they’re fresh, smooth, and a different color? Notice – and say something about it.  (Don’t search for matchiness here!  It’s really whatever the manicurist flaunted as the latest and the greatest. Women do their nails for other women’s entertainment. ) She spent time and money (and it wasn’t Your money.  It was Ours. Remember?) freshening herself up (I’m loving the “freshening up” verb here.  Be careful with it.  It implies she was quite stale prior.  Rotting, even.)   and it should be recognized and appreciated.  Recognition and appreciation runs both ways.  She should know this already.  If she doesn’t, don’t hesitate to get yourself another gal, no matter how well matched her accessories are – –  Her heart needs to match her brain.

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She’s wearing a different perfume.  (I am not sure how the above graphic depicts wearing a specific fragrance, but perhaps soon the internet will feature “Scratch n’ Smell” photos and you can take a real life whiff of the lovely female pictured above, clad in her achingly too short dress.  Still thinking of perfume, guys?  I doubt it.)

Studies show that smell is actually one of the most retained things in our memories.  This is true. It can probably go back to pre-birth, but rarely should you tell a woman she smells like amniotic fluid.  Anyone who catches a whiff of a certain scent and is instantly reminded of an ex boyfriend or girlfriend is aware of this. If you “sense” something is new, mention it to her.   Make sure she hasn’t just been cleaning or cooking. (we’re in a never-ending state of either activity – after all, right?  Of course right!) but if it’s the latter, you have just found your next gem of a compliment.  Actually, nevermind.  “Being this close to you and inhaling deeply, I just know the roast chicken with dumplings will be delicious,” is something that will flatter no woman, Ever.

She looks beautiful when she wakes up. If this is a new relationship, you would do best to feign sleep (soundly) for two extra hours, giving her the chance to hit the gym, shower, shampoo, (rinse and repeat) blow-dry, curl lashes, reapply negligee and climb seductively back between the sheets with that “just awakened” look; as you greet her with “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” of course. That’s the way to get “a little early morning somethin’-somethin’.”

Sometimes, early on in a relationship, a woman won’t even let a man see her without makeup for fear of (for lack of a better term) “ruining the illusion.” Written on your woman’s mirror  (in lipstick) is the proverb, “He who shatters the illusion, will pick up the pieces Forever!”  No it’s not, but wouldn’t that be a good fortune cookie from Confucious?  The truth is, women often look beautiful when they wake up, even when they don’t think so themselves.  Again, This is one GREAT guy writing this blog! There is a serene, angelic innocence to those first few moments of the day and the fact that she’s not wearing any makeup has nothing to do with it. Oy!  Just learn from this man, ok? He melts me.

Make sure the woman you wake up next to knows that rolling over and seeing her face, puts a smile on yours.  I have nothing to add to these genius words. 

The small things that you do and notice in a relationship are often the things that matter most, because they show you’re willing to put effort in and pay attention, just because. There is no expected reason or special occasion, but just because you care.   Who cares if this came from Hallmark originally? (but I’m sure it didn’t.)  Let this sink into your core.

And coming up – – the perfect way for him to end his blog.  I won’t mar it with any of my comments and/or playful sarcasm (or scarcasm!) afterwards.  I want James Michael Sama’s wise words to be the last we read.  But more than anything, I want to retain this profundity in my memory banks, forever.  After all, it’s vastly more important than how my perfume smells.

Notice the small things, because someday you will look back and realize that they were the big things.