Category Archives: Humor

From Procrastination To ProBLASTination (Just Do It!)

procrastinateHave you heard that placing gym clothes by your bed will coax you into exercising first thing in the morning? Some magazine articles even recommend sleeping in your workout attire. I already have nightmares about The Treadmill and Elliptical Monster, so I can’t imagine waking up, glancing in the mirror and thinking, “Alright! I’m already wearing my shorts and sports bra. 24 Hour Fitness Center, here I come!”

Nevertheless, based on this theory of subliminal suggestion (where your brain gets primed to do the activity the object represents) here are some “unusual” ways you can get in the mood for stuff you’d rather not do.

10 Unique Ways To Motivate Yourself to Do Things You Hate!

  1. Wear a French Maid costume. Within an hour you’ll crave dusting all your knickknacks with one of those cute feather dusters. (Or else you’ll succumb to “His” sexual advances and your bedroom will get even messier than it already was.)
  1. Put on a little hat and badge like fast food workers wear. It won’t be long before you’re drawn into the kitchen, preparing food with rapid-fire efficiency. Beware of that same “Testosterony Guy” (from the French Maid scenario above) placing his order for a Quickie.

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    Let me at your Knickknacks !

  1. Make a paper airplane or try some origami shapes. After all that folding fun, don’t be surprised when you’re compelled to tackle an entire clean load of laundry from the dryer.
  1. Play Monopoly and lose. That’s right, let your opponents clean out your entire money stash — even the twenty-dollar bill you stuffed down your bra. This will entice you to pay your bills. And since it’s that time of year, you’ll be seduced into doing your taxes as well!
  1. Sleep with your toothbrush under your pillow. For added incentive, spread Crest minty gel on your cheeks, chin, and forehead for an overnight facial mask that’ll have you waking up inspired to get a cavity filled at the dentist.
  1. Spray on a little perfume or cologne. Spritz some hairspray on your tresses. Squirt some room freshener in the air. Aren’t these spray bottles fun? Now you can’t wait to Windex all the mirrors and glass surfaces in your house, can you?
  1. Underwear works wonders! Don’t you slip on satin panties under your work clothes and then smile at your secret sexual desires? So just swap the lace undies for Granny Panties — and you’ll finally go volunteer in a retirement home. Don a “G-string” and at last, you’ll take that guitar in for tuning. Or slide into “Little Mermaid” underwear and you’ll give your kids those swim lessons. There is unlimited PPP! (Potential Panty Possibilities)
  1. Watch all of Colin Farrell’s and Colin Firth’s movies. When writing, liberally punctuate with semicolons and colons. There you go! You’re now in the perfect frame of mind to schedule that colonoscopy.
  1. Scrutinize your head closely, looking for split ends or gray strands and yank them out. Not only will your hairstyle benefit, you’ll feel a sudden urge to go pull weeds from your garden.
  1. Press flowers between the pages of a heavy dictionary. Read the classic children’s book, Flat Stanley. Crush some garlic. Use a Panini machine. Alrighty, now off you go for your overdue mammogram!

    I'm suddenly in the mood for pancakes!

    “I’m suddenly in the mood for pancakes!”

How Captain Von Trapp Chose Between Maria and The Baroness

sound of musicAt long last, we’ve discovered a never seen before authentic “Pros and Cons” list inside the props box from The Sound of Music set. The Captain wrote it to help decide which woman to make his wife and the new mother of his 7 children. Let’s peek, shall we?

Baroness Elsa

PROS

1. She’s got that classy, reserved icy blond, Austrian nobility thing going on. I’m up for the challenge of making her bleat like a mountain goat! 2. Says wise and profound things. “Somewhere out there is a lady who I think will never be a nun.” I wonder what she’d say if she knew I was hoping for a nun who will never EVER be a lady? 3. Easy to end a date with. You don’t have to launch into a whole song and dance routine, “So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, au revoir, sayonara, shalom, etc.” It’s just “bye-bye bitch.”

CONS

1. Not a performer and she’s a bit selfish. I doubt she’d walk out to finish my song for me if I were to break down on stage in the middle of lyrics I know like the back of my hand. 2. She doesn’t really care for yodeling. Which means my best joke will be lost on her. “Knock-knock. Who’s There? Lil Ole Lady. Lil Ole Lady Who?” Ha ha ha! 3. Given half a chance, she’ll send all 7 of my children to Boarding School. Wait, this goes on the pros list.

Fraulein Maria

PROS

1. I sure would like to handle a problem like Maria. I fantasize about being her personal troubleshooter. 2. Has a mathematician background and counts like nobody’s business.  “You are 16 going on 17.” Maybe one day she’ll star in a movie called “10” and introduce me to Bo Derek. 3. Won’t be a chronic dieter like my buddy’s wives. The only scales she’s obsessed with are Do-Re-Mi. 4. I love a woman who’s easy to buy for on Valentine’s or Mother’s Day. I have my list for Maria for the next 5 years. 1. Bright copper kettles. 2. Crisp apple strudel 3. Warm woollen mittens. And I don’t even have to giftwrap (brown paper packages tied up with strings) Easy to please. Aww screw it. Something tells me she’d be just as happy if I didn’t cut the whiskers off kittens. 5. Somewhere in her youth or childhood, she must’ve done something good.  She deserves me! photo (16) 6. Ever see anyone blush like that? I bet she’ll make a beautiful blushing bride. Of course that could be because the train on her wedding gown will be so long and heavy, half of Salzburg will have to carry it down the aisle for her. 7. Whenever there’s a thunderstorm, she’ll invite people into our bed. Mmm, I like me some kink.

CONS

1. She brought music back into the house. And now my kids play the Top 40 at decibels that would blow the roof off a Nazi regime. 2. Obsessed with puppets. Which means she thinks she can pull my strings. 3. She’s not great with names. Keeps forgetting “Kurt.” How will I feel if one night in bed she moans (off key) and says, “Mmm, that feels so good. God bless you, Whatsyourname?” 4. Tea, a drink with jam and bread. Seriously woman? Every single solitary time? I’m a Starbucks shareholder. 5. Hates whistles. I suppose that twisted Snow White fantasy I have of her singing, “Just Whistle While You Work” while sweeping the front porch in a Nun’s habit is out of the question? 6. She might force me to wear boxers she stitches from our dining room blinds. Yeah, but that’s an easy fix. Sell her Singer. It’ll be curtains for that sewing machine of hers! Hey!  As long as I’m considering Thrifty Recycling Movie Heroines, I know a racy raven-haired vixen who also made her gown out of the living room drapes. Maybe there’s a 3rd option here. Who says I can’t be a Cross-Film Actor and marry . . .

Scarlett O’Hara

PROS

1.  That 18 inch waist 2. Never worries about anything — she’ll think about it tomorrow. We all know what “it” is. Heh heh.

CONS

1. Oh who the hell cares anymore?  Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.

Any woman who can tilt her head like this without a neck ache is the one for me!

Any woman who can tilt her head like this without a neck ache is the one for me!

       

 

 

 

 

Please visit me on The Huffington Post to see why I think publishing is similar to Fifty Shades of Grey right HERE

I’m Intent to Rent for my next Event!

photo (15)Seriously? Why is this so complex?  It’s a dress, not an apartment!  Here’s my letter of recommendation:

To Whom It May Concern,

Little Miss Menopause would make an excellent candidate to wear a rental gown because she doesn’t drink and zip, she never eats anything that stains, and she has her perspiration well under control.  I can honestly say that you won’t regret letting her rock your frock.

Signed,

Her Bra & Panties

Dear Readers – – Please check me out RIGHT HERE  for a humorous portrayal of how Online Dress Rentals work (at least how they work for me!) as I am  featured today on an online magazine called BLUNTmoms.  I would really appreciate you sharing and leaving comments over there.  It’s easy to do!  Thank you to all!

 

 

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

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

 

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

A Little Support for Support Groups.

photo 2 (4)I decided to join a support group.  But even though I fit every description of every psychological disorder in every self-help book out there, I couldn’t find a group  that “got me.”  So I figured I would start my own. How hard could it be? Give the younger kids to my ex for the night, put some folding chairs in a circle in my living room, set out some grapes, and throw out a topic. Easy peasy lemon squeazy.  Oh and I might serve lemonade. That was always refreshing.

I put this announcement online:

Hi my name is Little Miss Menopause and I’m starting a support group. I worry a lot so I was thinking of calling it,  WWW– ‘Women Who Worry’  but we can tweak when you get here.

The first two calls were from women worried they didn’t know how to twerk, until I explained what I meant by tweak.

Since this was to be an anonymous support group, I will not use any names to convey the dialogue at our first meeting. It could be any woman saying these things.  And trust me, it was.

Is this for women who worry incessantly and want to stop?  Or for women who feel guilty they don’t worry as much as they should?

Well I worry that what I worry about will actually come true. Kind of like the opposite of “The Secret.”

Can this also be a support group for women who have never read “The Secret?”

How about women who really hate “The Secret?” Secretly, of course.

I recently read somewhere that the act of worrying itself is eventually what we’ll die from.

Ladies, can we get started?  We’ll call it “Women Who Worry Too Much Or Not Enough and Aren’t Sure How They Feel About “The Secret” but Don’t Want to Die.”

And The Men Who Love Them?

No men.  I would need to wear foundation. And my skin really needs to breathe.

How about we focus on Joy instead of worry?  We’ll be The Joy Luck Club.

Kill joy.

When and where will you provide childcare?

That’s just like you!  I knew you would assume that women our age would all be mothers.

Don’t say that.  My name is Anonymous. You don’t even know me.

Well I know you’re catty.

I wish I could be a mother.

I wish I had a mother.

I wish my landlord let me have a cat.

Well, if all 17 of us pitched in, I suppose my eldest daughter could babysit for an hour upstairs. Say $2.00?

If we pitched in $5.00, do you suppose you could hire a housecleaner?

Can you start a support group for women who cannot afford support groups?

Shouldn’t we have said the Serenity Prayer by now?

I think this group could use more tweaking twerking.

Or maybe we could all turn our chairs toward the wall and sit facing away from one another.photo 1-21

After they left, I was exhausted but stayed awake all night tossing and turning.  I toyed with starting another support group for women with insomnia. But when would we meet? We’d be too tired during the day from being up all night. We could meet evenings, but we’d want to turn in early to try and fall asleep. Finding a convenient time was definitely a worry.

To distract myself, I read slips of paper I had all the women leave in the Suggestion Box before they left. It was mainly filled with more names of support groups they were suggesting I start.

  • Women Who Are Mean To Other Women At Support Groups
  • Women With Teenage Daughters
  • Women Without Teenage Daughters
  • Women Wanting To Trade Teenage Daughters
  • Women Who Have Lost Their Mothers (we should open with saying, “I’m sorry for your loss”)
  • Women Who Have Lost Their Mothers to Mahjong, Rummy Cube, and Other Games Seniors Get Obsessed With Today That are Considered Hip.
  • Women Who Hate Their Hips.
  • Women Who Have Lost Their Keys, Cell Phones or Glasses (should probably still open with saying, “I’m sorry for your loss.”)
  • Women Who Are Authentic
  • Women Who Hate Women Who Always Say the word, “Authentic”
  • Women Who Start a Support Group Just so they Can Have Something New to Blog About (I knew I recognized one of my WordPress followers sitting away from the group on my purple couch!)
  • Husbands Who Have Wives Who Go to Support Groups To Talk About Them and Are Afraid to Go To Work the Next Day and the Secretaries Who Love Them
  • Children Whose Mothers Cannot Drive Them Anywhere Because They Are Constantly in Support Groups
  • Couples Who Can’t Talk To One Another (We could meditate)
  • Couples Who Can’t Stop Fighting and the Therapists Who Love them.

And there was one question:

Will you ever have anything to eat other than grapes and lemonade?  I have IBS.  It would be refreshing if you could serve other refreshments.

At the next meeting I decided to do more of the talking and be more bold.

Thank you all for coming back.  I wonder if some of you feel as exhausted as I do.  I was thinking of starting a group for insomnia but does anyone have a suggestion when a group like that could meet?

In your dreams.

Cute. So I’ve gone over all the suggestions and I’ve decided there’s one name that will encompass everything . . . Ready?  It’s quite brief.   “Dysfunctional Households”

Women Who Grew Up in a Dysfunctional Household or Women Who Create Their Own Dysfunctional Household??

But I live alone.

Uh, I’m a guy, so this might be a typical male question. But by Dysfunctional Households, do you mean when the dishwasher and the floor sweeper break down.

No, I don’t mean appliances. I mean people.

Well I AM the dish washer and the floor sweeper.

Welcome to our group.

Great.  Just great. Does anyone have foundation in a porcelain beige shade I can borrow?

After they all went home, I knew I would never mention it, but secretly I would change the name to “Women Who Start Support Groups To Feel Important But Instead Feel Put Out.”

And as far as worrying?  I was no longer concerned at all.  I now had plenty of new material for months of blogs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Hate Hugging!

photo 1-20I’m staying indoors today. It’s National Hugging Day!  Are we serious here?  I used to despise St. Patrick’s Day because it was the one holiday that encouraged public touching. From the moment I stepped out of bed, I dressed in the “color du jour” from head to toe so there could be no mistake. Live Female Leprechaun standing before you, folks.  I was never one of those sly minimalists who tried to trick people into pinching me so I could say, “Aha! Betcha didn’t know I have green-trimmed socks!”

This is okay in my book.

This is okay in my book.

photo 5-1

This is still okay.

But National Hug Day has taken things too far. Ask people who know me. I have been against the concept of embracing for a long time. It’s not just in public that I abhor it, and not just with complete strangers.  Although you should see my reaction as I walk down the street in a college town and some sucker student stands on the sidewalk with his sign, “Free Hugs.”  (I used to think this was a fraternity dare, but now I think it’s how they penalize pupils with low GPA’s)

What kind of business model is this? An Accounting Major, obviously.

What kind of business model is this? An Accounting Major, obviously.

But intimate relationship hugging is not for me either. First of all, that “Circle of Personal Space” (that none of us want to have invaded) stays up 24/7 for me.  It doesn’t take little breaks.  There’s never a sign around my torso stating, “Circle out to lunch, back in an hour.” C’mon friends, if you approach me with open arms and observe a sideways ducking maneuver, I haven’t just walked into a spider web, I do NOT want your limbs thrown around me.  A hug is just a strangle that hasn’t completed itself yet. To that end, maybe I’ll wear yellow police tape to match my outfits.

This is okay too. Crazy, but okay.

This is okay too. Crazy, but okay.

The thing I fear most is that some politician will decide if “National Hugging Day” is good, having a “National Cuddle Day” will be even better. Hugging, you can at least hold your breath and count to three and it’s usually over.  Cuddling is absolutely just the PITTS  (Prolonged Intimate Touching Torture System) in my opinion. Really?  Tell me you enjoy falling asleep with your mate’s hot breath on your neck? And those little involuntary twitchings and jerkings, just as you’ve crossed “leg waxing” off from your mental to-do list for tomorrow and are finally slipping into those theta brain waves? And their inhales/exhales. You always gotta try and synchronize yours to theirs and when you finally match up perfectly, they’ll hold their breath and sputter.  No thanks.

On one of the many websites you can google today, to find out more info about this holiday, (though why would you want to?) I found 10 reasons why today is supposedly good for us.  I’ve allowed myself commentary in red font.

Little Miss Menopause’s Input on “Their” Justification on Why National Hugging Day Came Into Existence

1)    Hugs make us feel “happy”! When we hug another person, our bodies release oxytocin, a hormone associated with “happiness,” according to scientific studies.  This is also released during breastfeeding and orgasm, but do we have National Days for that?

2)    Hugs alleviate stress! Just as a good hug increases our oxytocin levels, it decreases our cortisol or “stress” levels. How is stress alleviated when all you can think about is “Can they feel my stomach protruding?  Will their perfume/cologne set off my allergies?  And WHAT is that in his pocket??”

3)    Babies need hugs as much as water and food! According to researchers at Harvard University, hugs help promote normal levels of cortisol necessary for child development.  Agreed.  I vote to change it to “National Hug an Infant Day.”

4)    Hugs make us better students! Students who receive a supportive touch from a teacher are twice as likely to volunteer in class.  And are ten times as likely to have a father who will see the school district in court.  And what exactly will the students volunteer to do?  Go first in dissecting a frog so that they can put their recent hugging trauma in perspective?

5)    Hugs improve our game! Scientists at University of California, Berkley discovered that the more affectionate members of a team are with each other, the more likely they are to win. Please stick to ass slapping.

6)    A hug a day keeps the doctor away! A hug stimulates the thymus gland, which in turn regulates the production of white blood cells that keep us healthy and disease-free.  And apples were removed from the prescribed “One-a-day” list because?  Don’t tell me hugs have fiber now.

7)    A hug stops the bug! Researchers at Carnegie Mellon proved that individuals who were sick and received hugs had less severe symptoms and were able to get better quicker. C’mon. That’s just absurd.  They simply couldn’t find anything else to rhyme with hug. (But I can – – “Give me a smug shrug instead of a hug, ya big lug!”)  Everyone knows there’s no better way to spread germs than bodily contact.

8)    A hugging heart is a healthy heart! Research from University of North Carolina showed that a good hug helps ease blood flow and lower cortisol levels, which in turn help lower our heart rates.  See? Still needing to resort to making up medical facts to defend this day.  If this is indeed true, why don’t surgeons have a couple of hearts snuggle up together in an incubator prior to transplanting one into their patient during “Open Hug Surgery?”

photo 1-19

This is NOT okay.

9)    A hugging couple is a happy couple! Couples that experience their partners’ love through physical affection share higher oxytocin levels.  Again with the oxytocin. Does this Stepford Wife to the left look happy?  Look closely.

10)    Hugs let someone know you care without having to say a word! So does a well-written Hallmark card. According to Dacher Keltner, professor of psychology at University of California, Berkeley, we can identify love from simple human touch – imagine how much love a big (virtual) hug can communicate!

Am I alone in feeling that hugs should be reserved for your enemies so you can know how big to dig the holes in your  backyard?  Who will you let hug you today??

Help Yourself! (Don’t Mind if I do!)

photo 1-18 1st Ex-husband:  I read the back of a self-help book the other day and it was all about you.

Me:  Really?  Was it “The Guide to Reinventing Yourself?”

1st Ex-husband:  Uh, No. It was “Stop Walking on Eggshells:  How to deal with a Borderline.”

Me:  You mean like people who still listen to that 80’s Madonna hit song with the same title?

1st Ex-Husband: Not quite. People who have an Emotional Intensity Disorder, to put it nicely.

Me:  Ugh. You just don’t “get me.” You’ve never “gotten me.”

1st Ex-Husband: Why do you always make quotation marks with your fingers when you say that?

Naturally I went out to the closest bookstore and bought a new copy.  The first symptom listed was:

  • Frequently saying to others, “You just don’t get me.”

Followed by:

  • All or Nothing thinking (well, CAN you be halfway pregnant?)
  • Anxiety & Depression
  • Impulsivity (I like to call it spontaneity)
  • Marked sensitivity to rejection (that covered every writer in America)
  • Control Issues (that covered every female in America)
  • An unwillingness to take responsibility and a tendency to blame others. (not me!)
  • Unstable Interpersonal Relationships (what do they expect when nobody “gets” you?)

As I finished up the last chapter, nodding and reluctantly agreeing, I received a phone call.

2nd Ex-Husband: Hey, just came across a book today that reminded me of you — The Bi-Polar and Her Environment.”

Me:  I’m guessing it’s not about a big white bear who prefers arctic weather, but she’s bi so she likes the sunshine too?

2nd Ex-Husband:  Nope. And did you just make air quotation marks with your fingers?  Hello? Are you there?

The neighborhood bookstore owner was politely holding the door wide open for me when I arrived, greeting me with the hardcover in his outstretched hand.  I read the entire 300 pages right then and there and sheesh — this book could not have been any more about me. Except when it wasn’t. Yes, I had mood swings and extreme behaviors but “a decreased need for sleep?” Not according to my snooze button. When I returned home, my phone was ringing determinedly.

Me:  Hello Mom.

My Mother:  My book club met tonight and . . .

Me:  Title and Author please?

My Mother:  “Should You Avoid the Avoidant Personality in Your Life?”  by Hadley Nuff.

If I drove fast enough, I could just about make it back to the bookstore before they closed.

The bookstore manager was locking up as I arrived, but had the decency to have the appropriate pages highlighted and bookmarked as he read the symptoms aloud to me. “People with Avoidant Personality Disorder experience long-standing feelings of inadequacy and are extremely sensitive to what others think about them. These feelings of inadequacy leads the person to be extremely inhibited and socially inept. They usually turn to blogging as a last resort.”

Me:  You made that last part up!

He winked at me as I grabbed the book and slipped him a twenty.

When I backed out of the lot, a parking attendant approached my car and generously handed me a stack of paperbacks. “I saw these and couldn’t help but think of you.” I glanced at the titles:

  • Generalized Anxiety Disorder
  • Adaptation Syndrome Disorder
  • Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
  • Histrionic Personality Disorder
  • Intermittent Explosive Disorder
  • Reactive Attachment Disorder
  • Chronic Depressive Disorder

photo 3-9By morning, blurry eyed from the small print, I had already googled three psychiatrist’s names.  But which one would be lucky enough to hit the Jackpot and treat me?

If I couldn’t make up my mind, it probably meant I also had “Decision Disorder.” All three doctors would surely have a field day! It was obvious I had over 10 syndromes. But how had I kept all of these symptoms concealed from myself all these years, I wondered?  That was easy.  I also had “Defiance Denial Disorder.”

I was extremely nervous when I realized the doctor (whose name I chose from a hat) strongly resembled Jack Nicholson from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” That must be a symptom of  “Concoct a Celebrity” disorder, I reminded myself in a calm, affirming manner. “Nothing they can’t prescribe a book for,” I reassured myself. “Relax.”

Me:  I don’t understand how I can fit the descriptions of everything.  Am I just very versatile?

Dr. McMurphy:  Yes and No. You see, Little Miss Menopause… And by the way, changing your name to one of your maladies is very clever indeed.

Me: Thank you.

Dr. McMurphy:  You see, many people (especially ex-husbands who develop a sudden interest in literacy) don’t realize how many of these diagnostic terms share a huge overlap of characteristics with one another.

Me:  So the authors of the books are all friends who studied about Me in medical school?

Dr. McMurphy:  It’s perfectly normal to think it’s always all about you, Miss Menopause. We call that Grandiosity and Narciss….

Me:  Never mind!

Dr. McMurphy:  The point is, all of these disorders fall under one larger umbrella.

Me:  So I have Rainy Day Syndrome as well?

Dr. McMurphy:  It does appear that a dark cloud follows you around, yes. But we have another name for you. It’s not any of these fancy sounding syndromes or disorders.

Me: I was afraid of that. Does it start with a C?

Dr. McMurphy:  Why yes.

Me:  Oh no!  And is the second letter an R?

Dr. McMurphy:  As a matter of fact.

Me:  But Dr…  I thought professionals didn’t use that word these days.

Dr. McMurphy:  If it’s too much for you, I’ll write it down on my prescription pad and you can look at it later. But there is hope.

As I walked downstairs to the pharmacy, I summoned up all my courage.  I could handle being called the “CR” Word. And so what if it happened to rhyme with Lazy.  I’d been called worse things.  I took a quick peek —

photo-62 This was more depressing than I thought.  I don’t think they’ll ever come up with a cure. I better call both my Ex-husbands and warn them it could get handed down to our kids!

photo 5-2

Lessons I Learned From Playing the Board Game “CLUE!”

photo 2 (1)I spent many a childhood evening around the kitchen table eschewing Monopoly because my brother stole from the bank and pretended to flatten my Hat token with his Iron one.  That’s when Clue became my game of choice. And oh — the pertinent things it taught me!

SCARLET – – I learned that Miss Scarlet is either a southern Belle with a petulant personality (and an 18 inch waist!) who makes sure that men frankly DO give a damn or she’s a smoldering femme fatale character with a long cigarette holder who would be pronounced guilty if “looks could kill.” I realized that by choosing Miss Scarlet, I would ALWAYS be entitled to go first in the game. After all, it was written in the rules, which I would eagerly drag out to prove to anyone who mistakenly thought the highest roll on the dice determined order. But I would have picked Miss Scarlet anyhow, even if she was destined to go last (although I’m quite sure all men wanted to be behind her!) because aside from Veronica (in the Archies) I had very few raven-haired role models. From my eleven year-old perspective, she was both smart and sexy plus from her starting position, she could quickly sneak into “The Lounge” where everyone knew was the prime place to knock someone off.  Yes, I got into many a rowdy tussle with my female cousins who claimed Miss Scarlet before we even removed the lid to the box. Disclaimer: I never used a lead pipe on any of them. photo-436

WEAPONS — Having grown up with a father whose idea of fixing the plumbing was letting his fingers do the walking in the Yellow Pages, I learned from Clue that a Wrench was a murder weapon, not a tool. The first time my handy boyfriend came over, noticed my leaky sink and pulled a wrench from his car — I was already dialing 911 to report domestic abuse.

PALACE — I learned that when I grew up, I wanted an opulent house (like the Clue board) with its own  Billiard Room, Library and Conservatory. And since when is a “Hall” a special room in and of itself? In our home, a narrow hallway led to a dingy bathroom – sadly the hall was the only way we got from the kitchen to the washer/drier. There were no “secret passageways.” Deprivation.

COERCION — I learned that you can pressure your opponents into giving you information you need by moving your token into the Kitchen (when you already hold a card for the kitchen) and then asking to see either Mr. Green (when you already hold a card for him as well) and the Knife. Nowadays, I walk into our kitchen and upon seeing a knife (with some crumbs) I’m able to force a character named Mr. Son (who wears a green shirt) to admit guilt in eating the last piece of cheesecake.

ENTERTAINMENT — I learned that when you run out of things to write about, you can use board games to create a blog that breaks you into The Huffington Post like I did here. Or you can just create a movie like they did in 1985 when they turned Clue into a feature length film starring Leslie Ann Warren as my favorite, Miss Scarlet.  However, this was no “Whodunnit” plot but instead it was a “Howdunnit?”  How DID they keep her from falling out of that dress??photo 1 (3)

WINNING — I learned that whenever I beat my family at Clue, my “prize” was getting to put the game away.  Interestingly, when I lost — my penalty was also . . . yep, you guessed it!  Let’s just say I wasn’t the sharpest weapon in the arsenal.

FLIRTING — When I played Clue with a boy I had a crush on, I learned to wear a red dress, flutter my Miss Scarlet eyelashes at his Colonel Mustard’s hot-dog, and try to land in the Ballroom a lot to see if he would ever get the hint and ask me to a school dance. I then learned this never worked. Nowadays, I just beat the pants off men I like in Scrabble, while spelling out their favorite seven letter word, “Bedroom.”

Thank you Parker Brothers for all the valuable life lessons!

 

When Did I Ever Tell Disney Studios to “Be My Guest??” (I’m suing Walt!)

photo-422Wait till you see what’s been stolen from me to make scores of Disney hit movies!  Have you heard about author Isabella Tanikumi, who is taking Disney Studios to court for allegedly ripping off her books, which were based on her real life story, to make the movie Frozen?  If she doesn’t ‘let it go,’ she stands to make a lot of money.  But I’m sure the judge will agree that I am the larger injured party here. After my lawsuit(s) it’s only a matter of time before I’m singing “When You Wish Upon a Star,” bathing in my own millions!

SLEEPING BEAUTY:  It’s shocking how much Disney plagiarized my childhood events for this animated feature — Where do I even start?   At the beginning, of course.  First of all, just like Maleficent, I was shunned from my own Baby Christening. (Religious differences were cited.) Along those same lines, identical to Aurora, I was also born Royalty (according to my father) — a Jewish American Princess.  Then ironically, at age 16, in the middle of sewing my own gym bag in Home Economics class, (we should still make this mandatory, btw) I was also poked by a needle.  Now mind you, there are no witnesses. I couldn’t very well shout out, “Who just saw me Prick myself?” because I would have been sent to the principal for profane language.  But from that day forward, my mother could never awaken me to get to school on time.

CINDERELLA:  There can be no doubt of copycatting here.   But how Walt managed to spy on me in shoe stores, I’ll never know! It was my sheer amount of shoving, jamming and forcing my pregnant, swollen feet inside that last pair of silver stilettos in a Size 6 narrow, (during Nordstrom’s half-yearly sale) that was obviously duplicated for his stepsister’s dramatic scenes.  The fact that I was only raised with a brother or that I’m deathly phobic of mice need never come up in the lawsuit.  And perhaps I haven’t cleaned out our fireplace lately, but I can attest to scrubbing many a bathroom fixture. Nicknaming me “SToilet” instead of Stephanie would not be too far-fetched.

WRECK-IT RALPH:  Here I can only go after Disney for taking the title of this recent film directly from tapping my phone.  Ralph is the name of my Allstate auto insurance rep.  Three times during the same year this movie was made, I had to call and report a claim with my Mazda, lowering my voice to a shameful whisper the third time when I confessed, “I Wrecked it, Ralph.”

FINDING NEMO:  I might be persuaded to drop these allegations since it’s a bit of a leap.  However I want it on record that I’ve always lost my notes (for my blogs) and other scraps of papers I scrawled groceries on to buy at the market.  Therefore, I thought up a clever name for a contraption I invented that locates your “To Do” list around the house with an annoying buzzing sound. “Finding Memo!”

PARENT TRAP:  Alright, here my case is completely airtight.  I have twin boys and my one scaredy cat son once bribed his courageous lookalike brother to go to the pediatrician to get an extra flu shot for him.  When his Dad and I discovered the switcheroo, we didn’t reconcile our marriage, but we did have an hour long phone conversation where we both (miraculously!) agreed that the boys should lose dessert for a week and get different haircuts.

TANGLED:  Just look at this picture of my hair.

The original TANGLED, 80's style.

The original TANGLED, 80’s style.

Can there be any argument what the movie is based on??  Plus when I tell a white lie, my mother always recites, “Oh what a Tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”  Thanks Ma, I’ll split the settlement with you on this one.

FREAKY FRIDAY:  Disney must have a thing with the “Swapping People” bit (see Parent Trap above) but I definitely explored this theme first.  Witness the following multiple dialogues between me and my daughter.

Daughter: You can’t keep saying, “Cuz I said so!”

Me: Yes, I can.  And when you’re the mother, you can say it too.

or

Daughter: All the other mothers are letting their daughters go to the dance.

Me:  I’m not all the other mothers.

Daughter:  Well I wish you were!

or

Daughter:  It’s so unfair!  You have no clue what life as a teenager is like nowadays. It’s not like when you were in school and your biggest stress was pricking your finger with a needle in Home Ec class!

Me:  Try shoe shopping with big feet, scrubbing toilets, taking your twin brothers to the pediatrician for vaccinations, talking with car insurance companies, never being able to find my memos for my blogs, having a hairdo so tangled that it resembles a rat’s nest, and dealing with a smart-mouthed teen like you, Young Lady!

“Ya got that, Walt?  Freaky Friday was born when my sassy daughter was!”

And tonight if I see any Disney producers or writers loitering around my dinner table, it’s . . .

“OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”

photo-40

I’ll see you in Court, Mickey!

Meanwhile, please see my latest laughter featured on Huffington Post about men I would NEVER date.

 

 

 

Breaking Up With Your Accountant Doesn’t Have to be so Taxing!

photo-32Good help is hard to find.  But that doesn’t mean we must stay monogamous.  Here are some of the entries from a journal I kept to inadequate individuals I paid good money to.

THE ACCOUNTANT:   I mean c’mon, once in a while I’d like to see how someone else crunches my numbers.  Wesley my CPA,  is the only one who has ever seen the inside of my tax shelter and in 2014 when I reported my earnings, he winked and promised,

“Next year we’ll definitely ‘income’ simultaneously!”

Mmmmmm.  Still it’s not like we’re married or even engaged.  And I wouldn’t be cheating on my taxes either.  Just him.

THE HOUSEKEEPER:  It was awkward coming clean with Winifred (Wynn for short) but she’d been sponging off me too long.  I planned to wipe away her mirror streaking mediocrity in one fell swoop.  When she stated, “I don’t do laundry.”  I would simply retort, “I don’t do Wynndows!”  I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.  Wanting a clean slate,  I gave her $100 “good-luck” money — as she departed, I noticed Wynn tossed our dog $20.  “It’s only fair I wish my partner (and his tongue) good-luck as well,” she said.  “Every night, he’d wash the dishes while I’d dry.”  Ugh.  I should have just left her a “Dear John” letter on top of the toilet.

THE GARDENER:  Even though I love it when he talks dirt to me, I began to plant the idea in his head that I would soon be asking for my garage door-opener back. I didn’t want to soil his reputation because I knew if there was any mud-slinging, I would be the one losing ground. So this morning as I was pining away, staring at my neighbor’s lush lawn, I casually remarked that it was mowed using the newest “cutting hedge technology.”  He took offense and reminded me that “the grass is always greener.”  I felt great re-leaf when he didn’t try to get at the root of our problem and instead simply withered away — out of my life (and yard) forever.  I will miss his anti-coil hose with the pistol nozzle.

THE DOG-GROOMER:   Trickier because I needed to convince her my two-year-old Shih-Tzu (Breed Name itself causes embarrassment because it sounds like sneezing and swearing in Japanese!)  needed a change of pace.

Me:  Please don’t be blue.  It’s not You.  It’s my Shih-Tzu.

Groomer: (french accent)  What makes your dog  say “Adieu!” Why did things go askew and now it’s me he wants to eschew?

Me:  First of all, Gesundheit and Bless you!  Maybe he just wants something new?  Or maybe there’s such a hullabaloo, your shop is like a zoo?  Or maybe he doesn’t like your view?  Or perhaps for a male, you make him look too Fru-Fru?

Groomer:  Yeah?  Well Screw You!  AND your little dog the Shih Tzu, too!

I think she was auditioning for the witch from Oz.

THE HANDYMAN:   Phil was difficult to give the Ax. Two months ago, I Hammered home the idea there would be no more Screwing around in my household. I made a gut-Wrenching plea never to see Phillip’s Head around these parts again.  Yesterday I opened my door to see him on a ladder changing the porch light bulb, proudly brandishing his Tool.  “What part of ‘Fired!” don’t you understand?” I shouted.  He proceeded to fix my oven.  Feeling compassionate, I asked if he’d consider building me a maple desk.  “Oh boy, I wood.  I wood!”  He appeared quite Level-headed, so off we went to the lumber store and I think we’ve Repaired our relationship, too.

THE CHIROPRACTOR:  I didn’t want him to give me an attitude adjustment so I decided to just bend over back-wards and play it straight. Besides I’ve been in pain and didn’t want to cut off my nose to spine spite my face.  But last night I slipped up at the disk-otheque  and accidentally danced with a new chiropractor who promised he’d always be at my back and call.

THE MANICURIST:  She used reverse psychology on me.  Said I nibbled on my cuticles too nervously and she’d had enough! What biting sarcasm!  Then she claimed my nails were such a mess, she’d rather file her tax return.  – –  maybe I should fix her up with my Accountant!  (See #1 above.)  After calling me “Dishpan Hands” I couldn’t take her insults any longer so I mentioned hating the perfume she wore.  “You’re soaking in it,” she said slyly.  You gotta Hand it to that Madge!