Category Archives: Uncategorized

12 Potluck Party Personalities! Which One Are You?

potluckThe holidays have officially descended upon us and with this time of year harkens the arrival of the Potluck Party. Whether it be held at the office, school, church, or a relative/friend’s private residence, you’ll likely encounter some variation of the following personas:

  1. Potluck Prepper: Always bringing something to the gathering that requires a ton of preparation time. Proceeds to annoy the busy host in her own kitchen by opening the refrigerator and commenting “sheesh, how do you function in here?” and then thinks nothing of barricading an entire counter with the layout of different toppings as she assembles her ugly lettuce wraps.
  2. Potluck Planters Peanut-er: We get it – – you work, have kids, didn’t sleep, were sick all week, and in general “your time is ultra-valuable” so the can of Planter’s peanuts is your fall-back. But people with nut allergies are not digging it. Switch to beef jerky.
  3. Potluck Patenter: Owns the original copyright, trademark and patent for spinach dip! And thusly, in the name of all holy condiments, will wage a strategic war of subterfuge if you dare bring the same dish as her. Will either: a) rearrange platters so your contribution is in the back row. b) start a rumor that you used expired sour cream. c) offer guests $1 incentive for each bite they ingest of her concoction, $2 per obnoxious lip smack and $5 to the person who loudly declares her The Royal Dip Queen.
  4. Potluck Preliminary Packager: Very worried that she won’t get to bring any of her grub back home at the end of the evening so will prematurely wrap up several servings under the guise that it’s So & So’s favorite thing in the entire world, but they couldn’t come tonight. Let’s call up So & So and just see about that, shall we? The jig is up- – this doggy-bag is actually FOR YOU!
  5. Potluck Plastic-er: Cannot be bothered to transfer the contents out of the carton that it originally came in.
  6. Potluck Pricetagger: Eager to show off what she spent on her gourmet donation. Sometimes unintentionally left on and it’s so mortifying for them to know that there’s a tell-tale red-tag clearance item, they’ll douse it with sauce or frosting.
  7. Potluck Pasta PickerOuter: Brings a spaghetti dish but realizes that there’s inadvertently mushrooms in the sauce! Stands over her contribution for twenty minutes, sifting out every last ghastly fungus, never thinking that other guests might love those disgusting, rubbery toadstools.**
  8. Potluck Prider: Makes a dramatic entrance coming in late and then a huge production setting down her entrée, often simulating a drum-roll and exclaiming, “At long last, the mac n’ cheese has arrived!”
  9. Potluck Puny Portioner: This personality grew up with food rations and even though they knew full well that the host was expecting 40 guests, brings a cheesecake that serves six. Throughout the evening, they are constantly emphasizing how RICH the dessert is, thus justifying their paper thin slices.
  10. Potluck Panic-er: This person lets the whole invitational food farce upset them so much (what can they possibly bring?  OMG!) that days before the event they cancel with a mother-in-law excuse. The mother-in-law passed away three years ago.
  11. Potluck Paprika-er: Has a philosophy that everything looks better with orangish/rust colored sprinkles on top. Will paprika anything from egg-salad to birthday cake.
  12. Potluck Pedestal Presentation-er: Highly skilled in the art of display. Owns the fanciest crystal bowls and sterling-silver footed cake plates. Has a strong believe that the appetite begins in the eyes, which is rooted in the fact that one of his parents was an ophthalmology chef.
  13. Potluck Putrid Prankster: Stays up nights thinking of the dish they can bring that will emit the foulest odor. It will contain limburger cheese.
  14. Potluck Punctuality Person (NOT!): Swears they will be on time but inevitably signs up for an appetizer and then arrives when desserts are served.
  15. Potluck Papergooder:  No matter how many varied food group choices are on the list to sign up for, this person consistently gravitates to either plates, cups or utensils. They simply feel they cannot be trusted with real food.
  16. Potluck Peter Piper Pickled Pepper: “Tongue-Twister” is their name and “burn your mouth off with HOT n’ SPICY” is their game!

4 Types of Potluck Party Planners!

(The hosts themselves can often be categorized!)

  1. Potluck Prayer:  A host that secretly does not want to return dishes and vessels to the guests who brought them and is actually praying that taking them into the kitchen under the guise of “washing them out” will lead to “out of sight, out of mind” and thus increase and strengthen their personal Tupperware arsenal.
  2. Potluck Pretender: Offers to hold a potluck under the guise that it’s laid back and easy. “Bring whatever you want, everything goes,” is their mantra at first.  This should be a red flag that the day before their affair, you’ll get a call where they insist in an ominous tone that five people are bringing brownies and if you do not bring something with protein in it, (preferably steak) you’ll be arrested by the Carb police.
  3. Potluck Piler:  The host who holds back an entire dish for his or her own use because it’s their favorite and they don’t know how to cook it themselves.  These people cannot help themselves.  They spy an incoming “cheese soufflé” and immediately think “I could bring this to Jody’s party this Sunday!” You can easily recognize them because they have bruises on their foreheads from where they slap themselves while loudly uttering, “Would you look at that!  I completely forgot to put out your Velveeta thingy.  But never fear, it shan’t go to waste around here.”
  4. Potluck Passive(aggressive-er):  Starts out choosing a seemingly innocent theme. Either It’s a Small World, Breakfast For Dinner or Finger Foods. As an example of their subversive, covert demeanor, let’s say you bring soup to this last theme above — They will reassure you that all is well, and that they adore chicken broth, then suddenly blurt out, “Well I guess now we all NEED spoons, don’t we?” followed by a loud clattering in the kitchen.

** If you couldn’t tell, the author is #7.

UPDATE!  Here’s a direct link to the following!  Scroll down and please vote for team Hickson!  Right HERE!   NEWS!  I have been participating in a special collaborator phase of an exciting contest called “A Star is Born” (produced by The Neighborhood’s Kendall F. Person) when I was truly honored to be asked to team up with the one and only hilariously funny man, Ned Hickson. The voting will take place in less than 24 hours (!) Sunday, Dec. 6th at 7 pm so just click HERE to support Team Hickson in our humorous antics because updates will be posted frequently and a link to vote will magically appear at 7 pm! 

21 Types of People You Meet at Thanksgiving Buffets

thanksgiving-buffet

What is it about standing in line for food that brings out the DMV in people?  This holiday season, whether you’re (smart and) eating out at a restaurant, serving the hearty meal in your own home, or partaking in the holiday at someone else’s house, chances are (unless the formal dining room is as large as the scene in a Norman Rockwell painting) people will likely be getting up from the main table to obtain food from what we call a “Buffet”

We do know this is pronounced Buffay, correct?  It’s not spoken like a line from a famous nursery rhyme.  “Little Miss Muffet sat on a Tuffet to eat at a Buffet!”  Right?

Now that we’ve cleared up the French influence on our language, you’re in luck.  Little Miss Menopause has some tips and rules to offer about Buffets, along with giving her thanks for your readership and putting up with an encore post today while she cooks for her sister-in-law’s buffet.

But first a little lesson on the types of individuals you are likely to encounter at a Buffet:

  1. A Buffeter Surveyer – – These are people who have read “helpful” articles with tips about losing weight during Thanksgiving and have come to view the offerings in their entirety prior to making their careful selections. They have been promised that if they have a calm, relaxed demeanor and a predetermined game plan approaching the Buffet, they will not gain five pounds. Most of these people will methodically walk the length of the buffet before diving in head first.  It’s best to back up and give them a running start.  Note:  If you’ve read the same articles, it’s far too late to remind them that using a salad size plate instead of entree size can fool the eye and trick the stomach.
  2. A Buffeter Overstayer – – They think of the buffet as their home base. They will continuously loiter, integrating all kinds of tasks into the buffet. Talking, eating, wiping, consulting, organizing, refilling, and generally becoming a permanent fixture at a buffet. They are not compatible with the next type…
  3. A Buffeter Get-out-of-my-Wayer! – – He means business.  Napkin tucked, first in line, and making appreciative sounds that make you wonder if a nearby barnyard has taken attendance recently.
  4. A Buffeter Prayer Sayer – – A religious woman who’s extremely graceful.  Literally.  She makes sure Grace has been said in all languages, in all cultures, as she prays for starving people everywhere. Very thoughtful too – – if there are leftovers she will pack a doggy-bag for God.
  5. A Buffeter Cabareter – – Usually a former preschool teacher who know lots of holiday songs and won’t hesitate to coerce people in line to join in with “Ten Little Indians” or “Pumpkin Pie in the Sky!” And you better at least lip synch when she divides you up into sections for her round of  “Gobble, Bobble, Wobble” or she’ll belt it all out on her own.
  6. A Buffeter Delayer – – You know they want food, they know they want food, but they will stay seated until the last person gets up, not wanting to appear overeager.  Then they will gossip until next year about how you didn’t prepare enough grub.
  7. A Buffeter Weigher – – Such a killjoy.  They recite calorie counts for everything and whip out their little kitchen scales to do an official cranberry calibration.
  8. A Buffeter Layerer – – This person is obsessed with rearranging the sumptuous spread and digging through layers of turkey or yams looking for who knows what.  Tongs are their favorite tool of choice but they can function just as well with a spatula too.
  9. A Buffeter Sprayer – – It would be less offensive if this person was merely having an allergy attack. But that’s usually not the case. Need I say more? I needn’t.
  10. A Buffeter Okayer – -You’ll not meet a more pleasant, jovial person in the line today. The answers to the following questions will always be “Okay!” 1. Can I go in front of you?  2. How’ve you been since last Thanksgiving?  3. Do you think I should goose cousin Cindy as she takes some goose?
  11. A Buffeter Trayer – – They frequent cruise ships and Las Vegas so they are professionals and bring their own tray.  It looks suspiciously like the one at Soup Plantation.  But it helps them with efficiency because balancing full plates is really not their thing.
  12. A Buffeter Bouqueter – – These are gardening people and if the hostess has thoughtfully decorated with floral centerpieces, that’s all they will talk about.  You’d think they would prefer Roasted Red Roses or Fried Fuschia Freesia to light or dark turkey parts.
  13. A Buffeter Betrayer – – Intimately acquainted with the hostess, they won’t hesitate to tell all they know. “That salad she claims is organic?  Nope.  And it’s a Costco pumpkin pie this year even if she’s claiming homemade.  Skip the sweet potatoes, she doesn’t wash the skins.” Etc.
  14. A Buffeter Clichér  – – Like the turkey, this guy’s vocabulary is stuffed full of stupid puns and double entendres. While staring at the carved bird, he’s bound to remark, “Looks scary….it’s a Goblin!” Or “I’m suddenly in a Fowl mood!”  Tell him you gave up laughing at stupid jokes ‘Cold Turkey’ and move along.
  15. A Buffeter Halfwayer – – They nearly get to the end of the food display when they realize they forgot to grab a ladle full of salad dressing some twelve platters ago. Now they’re gonna stand frozen and flummoxed in line, wondering how they can politely go backwards.  Say this: “Grandma, want me to get you some Ranch?” Problem solved.
  16. A Buffeter FoulPlayer – – If it’s accidental, it can be forgiven – –  but younger buffet-goers will drop a cherry tomato into the gravy to see if it floats or sinks.  That’s just the beginning of the havoc they can wreak and I hesitate to offer more examples lest I give them other ideas.
  17. A Buffeter OyVeyer – – Being Jewish, I’ve met more than my share. Starts with, “Oy Vey, my doctor says my triglycerides are sky high lately.”  Ask them what a triglyceride is and they’ll just sigh deeply and say, “Oy Vey, I really shouldn’t be eating that.” or worse, “Oy Vey, should YOU really be eating that??”
  18. A Buffeter Résumér – – Ambitious souls! They might even hand you a written resumé as proof to what they contributed to this feast. It will contain bullet points. “Experienced giblet gravy maker. Team player who brings innovative and fresh ingredients to the workplace.”
  19. A Buffeter Essayer – – Someone who goes around observing and interviewing people in line at buffets in the hopes of writing a funny blog post because she has nothing better to put out on Thanksgiving. The nerve.
  20. A Warren Buffett Buffeter — You’ll lose your appetite because he’s going to talk about the economy. From Soup Overspending to Nut Capitalists.
  21. A Jimmy Buffetter Buffeter — Related to the Buffeter Cabareter (above) but you’ll truly be impressed with how much of the “Wasting Away in Margaritaville” lyrics they actually know. “Searchin’ for my lost shaker of salt. Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame, but I know, it’s my own damn fault. . . ” is is only the beginning!

And now for some quick rules.  Just a few though, because everyone knows the rule is “there’s no rules on Thanksgiving!”

Don’t Go Astray And Disobey the Array of the Display at the Buffet!   (The 10 Commandments)

1.  Thou Shalt Not Cut The Line – – I know, I know….you just want seconds on the lamb.  But isn’t that a different holiday food anyhow?

2.  Thou Shalt Not Switch Direction: Buffets go in one direction only. Don’t start making your way through the line from the opposite direction. A big hint — you will find yourself carrying food in your hands because the plates are on the other side.

3. Thou Shalt Watch Thy Children: Always escort young children, say 10 or younger, to the buffet. And give them second helpings of the creamed acorn squash in the hopes that one of the ingredients is Valium or Xanax.

4. Thou Shalt Keep Thy Fingers to Thyself: Kids aren’t the only offenders here. Adults are just as likely to get excited and grab something quickly because nobody is looking.  I see you.  I always see you.

5. Thou Shalt Not Move Tongs: Never, ever move the tongs from one platter or hot food station to another. What if the person behind you has allergies to shrimp and you’ve just moved the tongs from a shrimp dish to a turkey dish? What if that person is kosher or vegetarian?  Ever think of that you “Tong Trader” you?  Need a gentle reminder?  Hum the “It’s just Wrong to move a Tong” song.  Don’t know that one?  Make friends with the preschool teacher who sings in buffet lines mentioned above.

6. Thou Shalt Not Eat in Line:  It’s amazing how many people you run into who are suddenly extremely diabetic or hypoglycemic and must have their food right NOW at a buffet.

7. Thou Shalt Not Take More Than Thou Can Eat: Buffet dining, by its very nature, is gluttonous, but that doesn’t mean you have to be! “If you’re a glutton with the mutton, you’ll need to move your shirt button! La, la, la, la!”  Okay, so I dine with a certain preschool teacher quite often!  Similarly, don’t take the last baked potato because it’s rude to leave the people behind you with an empty serving tray.  If you do, stealthily stick up a little sign that says, “Kilroy was here” so they can at least laugh at their ill-fortune.

8. Thou Shalt Use a New Plate Each Time: If you go back for seconds, leave your original plate at the table and get a fresh one each time.  Why this is, I’ll never know . . .  but I get admonished for it all the time.  (Perhaps a hygiene specialist can elaborate on how this could cause cross-contamination in the comment section?)

9. Thou Shalt Wash Thy Hands: Sticking with the cleanliness theme, always wash your hands before getting in the buffet line. You might not be touching the food directly, but you will be handling the serving utensils.  And I actually GET this one, so no explaining in the comments section will be necessary,  you Germaphobes.)

10. Thou Shalt Not Make a Doggie Bag: Don’t even think to ask.  There are no doggie bags at buffets, NO exceptions. A napkin squirreled quickly away inside your purse will always suffice. Men without handbags are outa luck and will need to be super nice to their wives for leftovers back home.

Arranging a buffet? Why that’s just child’s play!!

It was not beyond me to do this at a Buffet. Yes, food was served inside wagons, dump-trucks, watering cans, pails and eaten with shovels. Rest easy, it was for a kid's party!

 

Look! It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane…

airlinesFrom now until January 2nd marks the period with the greatest amount of air travel. I absolutely detest flying but instead of grumbling, I’ve used my time in the sky to categorize the following types of airline passengers.  Do you know any of them?

The Air Preparer:  He’s the MacGyver at 40,000 miles. Need a bandage, cough syrup, earplugs or screwdriver?  He’s your man.

The Air Armchairer:  She makes a beeline to her seat so she can beat you out. Giving you an evil glare as you stagger innocently down the aisle, you notice her elbows hogging both armrests. Do you dare claim what’s rightfully yours?

The Air Barer:  Is this a 747 or a hot yoga class?  She’s so scantily dressed, her mother would make her put on a trench coat.  Oh wait, that might be even more provocative!

The Air Scarer:  This person makes your peanuts and pretzel packages stand on end with their tales of terror.  On another flight they were recently on, the pilot had to release all the luggage to lighten the load. Still a different flight they had to drop all their fuel and ultimately all the passengers as well. Gasp. But the most horrific flight of all was when they ran out of diet coke.

The Air Prayer:  This individual should never sit next to an Air Scarer. You can recognize one of these quite easily because their lips move silently in a constant state of prayer as they clutch their rosary beads until the plane touches back on ground.

The Air Affairer:  The longing, seductive looks they give one another from business class to coach is their mark of distinction.  They don’t dare sit in the same section lest someone knows them. Watch for synchronized bathroom trips. (Being crowned King/Queen of the Mile High Club would be their ultimate frequent flier reward)

The Air Solitairer:  Yes, this guy flies all by his lonesome self.  But that deck of cards is in continuous motion. Look! That red Jack can go on the black Queen!

The Air Marryer:  No sooner does the pilot point out Mt. St. Helens when he directs your attention to a passenger seated over the wing who is now going down on bended knee.  Will she say yes?  Maybe he couldn’t do this on the ground because he’s counting on the diamond looking bigger under the little cabin book light?

The Air DayCarer: She has not just one, not just two, but three kids and she’s brought enough provisions to put a preschool to shame. Hey! Will she share a handful of cheerios and that etch-a-sketch with your own cranky child?  No she will not, stupid – – next time, fly more prepared.

The Air Pairer:  These two are lifelong friends going on a gal-pal weekend and they love to chit-chat with you seated in between them.  Why didn’t they book seats right next to one another??  Because one needs a window and one needs an aisle and talking over you is a stimulating challenge. Just read your book and shut up, mkay?

The Air Error:  This guy flies planes for a hobby and he’s gonna run down the list of all the mistakes they’re making. Think you can do it better?  Get in that cockpit and take contol!

The Air Swearer: Salty vocabulary is an understatement and if he’s seated next to The Air DayCarer, he better watch his language — she’s gonna have her kids paste his mouth shut with their gluesticks during arts n’ crafts hour.

The Air Comparer: “Jet Blue has far more leg room than this cracker jack plane. Did you know United baked oatmeal cookies on a flight once? Wonder if Virgin Airlines would hire flight attendants as ugly as these?” Thank you for sharing!

The Air Despairer:  This individual is absolutely petrified to fly and you’ve got the nail marks in your arm to prove it. What was that noise?  Did you see that little red light blinking on the wing?  What if the pilot just found out his wife is leaving him and chooses today to fall off the wagon?

The Air DentalCarer:  Flossing teeth in public is yucky. But traces of blue toothpaste left in that itty bitty sink can only mean one thing. . . Someone’s mouth is minty fresh during this flight for a good reason.

The Air Sharer:  By the time you land, you’ve seen all their grandkids, know their favorite scene from Wizard of Oz and split a hoagie with them. But you booked a red eye to sleep.

The Air Starer and Awarer: Very nosy woman, scrutinizing every passenger on the flight, the wheels always turning. Hyper aware of subtle mannerisms and nuances, taking notes so they can write a blog about it. Nah, these people don’t really exist!

If you enjoyed my classifications here, you might like last year’s Thanksgiving post where I put people who attend holiday buffets into categories. Read about THESE FOLKS RIGHT HERE? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Blogcademy Awards (The Bloscars!) With a Giveaway Prize!

photo (14)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.  Our computer freezes.

And yes, just like last year with Ellen hosting, there will be a Selfie Photo Contest, so let’s take down Twitter…Wordpress!  Not to place any WordPressure on you, 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 a link to your photo (Shutterfly, Facebook, any other forum where you can post a picture) 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 a $25 Amazon Gift Card)  Deadline will be this Friday Feb 27th  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 not being in my 40’s any longer.

And Now . . . The Blotion Picture Blogcademy Proudly Presents . . . THE BLOSCARS! (think of orchestra 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.photo-218

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 have 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.  We’re looking again for Creativity here and some Wordplay.  Here’s a not so good Example:  The song “Roar” by Katy Perry should accompany my blog because people always roar with laughter when they read it!

Best Tagger:  Who gets the best traffic from tags?

Best Muse:  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 (in real life) 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’sPajamas 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 “suit”able 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.

How I Shoved Valentines Down Everyone’s Throat!

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

Me: photo 4-11

 College Son:

photo 5-9

 Me:

photo 1-16

 College Son:

photo-69

 Me:

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

Daughter 12:

photo 4-12

 Son 10:

photo 5-10

 College Son:

photo 2-17

Me:

photo 3-12

 College Son:

photo 1-18 photo 1-8

Me:

photo 4-7

College Son:

photo 4-4

Me:

photo 3-3 photo 3-7

College Son:

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

Twin Brother:

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Me:

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Twin Brother:

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

Daughter 17

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 College Son:

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 Me

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 College Son:

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Me:

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College Son:

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Me:

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College Son:

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Me:

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College Son:

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Son 10

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Daughter 17

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Me:

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Daughter 17:

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Me:

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College Son:

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Me:

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

Boyfriend:

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Me:

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Boyfriend:

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Me:

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Boyfriend:

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Me:

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Boyfriend:

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

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

Hanukkabulary (New words to use this Hanukkah)

photo-54 *Spellukah — n. A democratic way to settle any dispute over how you should write the word Chanukah. “You spell Hanukah, I spell Chanuka, let’s call the whole thing off!”

GeltnGuiltnGlutton – n. One who buys a big supply of those little mesh bags of chocolate gold coins weeks ahead of time in preparation for Chanukah parties and adorning presents, only to stealthily gobble them all up – – which results in more shopping trips to replenish original stash. (Similar phenomenon as occurs with Halloween candy.)

PresentStation – n. Designated area of the house (cleared away of all furniture by grunting, complaining males) for displaying ever-accumulating wrapped gifts for all eight nights. Most effective space includes motion detectors and iPhone surveillance system. Oy!

DecembeRemember — v. A way to remind children who envy their non-Jewish friend’s Christmas celebrations to appreciate their own. i.e. “Every year I need to DecembeRemember my twin sons that we get eight nights (all in a row!) of fun, while little Johnny down the block only has one measly morning. Sure!!

Nebbishwebish – adj. A description of an online invitation to a Chanukah party used primarily to save postage. Who cares? It’s not like Barbra Streisand or Adam Sandler emailed it to you. If they had, we’d call that, “NebbishCelebish.”

ShooJewzoo – v. The act of insisting that guests (upon their initial arrival) stop loitering in the kitchen, schmoozing, and attacking food like a bunch of untamed animals with ferocious appetites. (The formal living room (which is never allowed to be used) has been beautifully prearranged for this purpose, for heaven’s sake!)

L.A.S.E.R. – Acronym. Stands for: “Latke Applesauce Sourcream Eating Recruiter” One who makes it their business to convert a purist (single topping) latke consumer over to the other side — combining both fruit and dairy into one neat bite.

Ignoramenorah – adj. A way to describe children who rush through the beautiful tradition of candlelighting so they can rip into their presents (and the adults who allow this). The flame of materialism!

Brisketfixedit – v. The cocky action of giving unsolicited advice to the young hostess of a Chanukah party (usually by a wise grandmother type) that results in a moister main course. Often involves adding warm water (a “secret” ingredient?) to the pan drippings for extra gravy.

MessiahJeremiah – prop n. Someone (usually named Jeremiah, but can be a Joseph or even a Zack) who has religious sightings in the fun waxy build-up on the menorah base. There’s one in every bunch. Note: shapes resembling Jesus will be met with raised brows.

Fryerliargoodbyers – pl. n. Those who fabricate reasons why they cannot help cook the latkes in a deep pan of oil, (spattering hot grease all over their blouse) then abruptly depart the kitchen.

Fryercomplier – n. That lone individual who remains near the stovetop after all other fryerliargoodbyers have exited because he/she couldn’t think fast enough.

Jiltguilt – n. Feeling of obligation to come back inside kitchen to help the overwhelmed ‘Fryercomplier,’ who was previously abandoned. This results in a “Mitzvah-Shvitza-Splitza.” (see below)

Mitzvah-Shvitza-Splitza – n. The unspoken agreement between the two people who end up frying all the latkes together. Their reward for perspiring over the burning stove? Getting to share as much potato pancakes as they want, (fresh from the pan while they’re still hot!) before carrying out the cold platter for the other lazy bums. Also known as “WarmaKarma.”

WinchellsmellJell – adj. Description of that telltale scent which is evidence that the hostess purchased her Sufganiyot (traditional jelly donuts) at an outside chain establishment, rather than deep-frying them up homemade. Can you really blame her? Enough of the oil already! We get the miracle…. it burned for 8 long days.

*(Spellukah!) Just for fun – Here’s how many online searches there were in 2014 for the different variations of the word.  Oy!  Jews can never agree.  Happy Holidays!

Hanukkah : 8,470,000 
Chanukah : 3,390,000 
Hanukah : 862,000 .
Hannukah : 677,000 
Chanuka : 335,000 
Chanukkah : 274,000 
Hanuka : 192,000 
Channukah : 128,000 
Chanukka : 116,000 
Hanukka : 86,300 
Hannuka : 51,400 
Hannukkah : 37,300 
Channuka : 33,600 
Xanuka : 992 
Hannukka : 686   
Channukkah : 508 Channukka : 489 
Chanuqa : 25

 

Please visit me at In The Powder Room, a funny brilliant website where I have had a 3-part humor series going on.

Is Profanity Legal in Scrabble?

couchEvery writer plays Scrabble at least once in their life, right?  Form a seven letter word, score 50 pts, use your Q without a U, challenge your opponents version of “EUOUAE” (a consonant-less word that’s legal? Yep!) clink teacups, and call it a fun night, right?

That’s all well and good when it’s a friendly game around your kitchen table with family.  But playing with a competitive stranger online from God know’s where, who also cheats? Well that’s quite another story!

It all started when my children coaxed me to download the App, “Words With Friends” on my cellphone.  What a neighborly sounding game it was! A few clicks and voilà! (I always wanted to work “voilà” into a post!) suddenly it was just as I remembered from my own childhood– except you could take all day to make one word and nobody minded.

That was rather nice – – mulling over the letters whilst mopping the dining room floor or leisurely contemplating a compound word as you auto-shuffled the letters “sexycat” around, searching for something better during a gynecologist appointment.

And you could even send gracious messages back-and-forth like “awesome word!” or “you got me there!” No rush, no muss, just clean, polite, old-fashioned fun.

Until none of my children would play with me anymore. Or my ex-husband, my cousins, my neighbor, my babysitter, my accountant, my Rabbi, my boyfriend, and not even my Tupperware Lady.  Right, like she was just soooooo busy – – when’s the last time you were invited to a party that featured burping plastic containers?
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Poor sports and sour grapes, every last one of them, just because I clobbered them all! One by one, I went through my Facebook victims, err contacts, systematically challenging familiar names to a friendly game until they all dropped off in defeat.

Then it happened. The invitation from “1OldTortoise” appeared–I took one look at his innocuous name and eagerly clicked “Accept.” Easy pray.

But who was he?

His first word utilized all his letters — “ratines.” A noun meaning “heavy, loosely woven fabric,” my eye! Looking back, that’s when I shoulda smelled a rat.

But I gave him the benefit of the doubt and made a few of my own 7-letter words. First “coupons” followed by “toenails” playing off his ‘S.’ Ha! Let him dispute that toenails wasn’t all one word. Then a message came across in that cute little thought bubble–“I was just clipping mine.”

Okay, ewww! And seriously? I needed to know an Aging Reptile’s grooming habits? I don’t think so. Also I was immediately reminded of the Aesop’s fable, “The Tortoise and the Hare” because the sudden alacrity in which he sent his words across was astonishing. He beat me three times in a row just that one morning.

Gone were the relaxing days allowing me to pause and brainstorm for an hour. If I hesitated to respond in twenty minutes, a message would appear with an impatient ding, prompting, “1OldTortoise is waiting. Make your move!”
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Really? Well he can just pull his wrinkly head back inside that cracked shell of his and sit tight. What business did he have rushing me like that? It’s just a form of recreation, after all. Besides it’s humiliating getting beaten in a game of wits and skill by someone like this. He was quickly turning “Words With Friends” into “Language With Enemies!”

And worse yet, I had the distinct impression that he was using a dictionary. His words were just too obscure. Nobody has a vocabulary like that. And once I lost by 200 points because my 8-year old “borrowed” my cell phone for twenty minutes. Still, it was infuriating.

And if he wasn’t using a dictionary, then he had some other devious way of drawing all the best letters for his own rack while leaving me with nothing but “ffhzxns.” Whatever that was, I so yearned to pluralize it!

Then one day it happened. I actually beat him! But as I rejoiced, a thought bubble popped up all aglow. “Congratulations,” it proclaimed. “You managed to beat my young grandson who happened to be playing with my phone!”

Oh that was rich, really rich. What was this? He’s trying to diminish my joy. Make me feel foolish because I celebrated out-spelling a small child. One who probably called himself, “1Tinyturtle.”

The guy was so slippery, he may as well have been a snake. And persistent as all hell. Hell in a tortoise shell! The moment he won, like lightning, another invitation flashed across the screen–“Accept a new game with 1OldTortoise?”  I had no choice. If I clicked “decline,” I knew on his end it looked as if I resigned. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I played with a 102 degree fever, in the middle of movies, while studying for an exam, and even as I wept because our cockatiel died.

Finally I developed that “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” attitude. I downloaded another app called scrabblecheat.com. I am not proud of this behavior. But the tortoise was going down… I was determined.

Now I couldn’t sleep because of my obsession with winning. When I did manage to grab a little shut eye, I dreamt of glass enclosures at the zoo, housing 200 year-old (did they live that long?) terrapins. (Small edible turtles!) Or I would awaken shouting out, “QWERTY!”
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The whole situation became truly absurd — he was cheating, I was cheating–it was as if there were two computers playing against each other. A tech war.

One night my mother came over for dinner and as we prepared the brisket and mashed potatoes together, I showed her the current “Words With Friends” game board in-progress on my cellphone.

“Ma,” I implored. “You were a high school English teacher, what intelligent word can you make with these letters?” She fished out her reading glasses and furrowed her brows. “Oh you’ve got a worthy opponent here,” she said. “But use your Y and make “gravy.”

Bingo! With her help, I felt confident I would finally make turtle wax outa him. And that’s when I heard it. The familiar ding, and then the thought bubble with a message inside.

“Gravy! Clever word you made. Now make some for your brisket. It’s always dry.”

As I peeked into the living room, I saw my mom typing into her own cellphone, beaming while nudging her glasses back up on her nose… Her old tortoise shell glasses.

“1TinyTurtle” was probably my own 8-year old little boy that she occasionally babysits. And my mom actually clips her coupons (not her toenails!) while playing me in “Word With Friends.” Good to know!

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This is my 100th post since Jan 1st 2014! I’d be thrilled if you’d leave me a comment to celebrate as well as introduce yourself–if you haven’t already?  And please visit me on The Huffington Post to laugh some more…. Click HERE

I’m Normally Not Such a Busybody!

I know I can be “behind the times” but this is kinda ridiculous. I wrote this post a mere five hours ago but it ended up buried in the Reader with yesterday’s posts, for some strange reason. I thank you for your patience in advance with this reblog and for having to click a few extra times to find out why I am now an avid “Busybody.”

Little Miss Flawed's avatarOnce Upon Your Prime

photo 1-3One day I got bored with eavesdropping on other people and decided to tune into myself for a change.  My body, to be exact.  It has a lot to say.  So, won’t you join me?

Body Language

Left Breast: She hates us. Have you read this?  It’s her “Breast-o Manifesto.” It’s only a matter of time before she tries to shrink us again with Reduction surgery. I say we Kill her first. Wage a Preemptive Strike.

Right Breast: I’m feeling a bit nippy right now.  I’ll read it later when my goosebumps are gone.

Left Breast: We must stay abreast of this woman’s body hatred before it’s too late. The Abdomen alleges that war was declared over this summer and the oblique muscles were nearly Crunched to death.  Doing 100 a day.   But we can’t be stupid about it, either. If we strike aggressively with Breast Cancer, everyone will…

View original post 1,363 more words

Rockabye Hope

Most of you know that I don’t normally venture beyond my own funny bones when I post here. But today I delved back into my memory (and heart) to recall a painful period when I felt very alone/misunderstood. This was inspired by the wonderful writer “Holistic Wayfarer” who had the kindness to invite me to participate in a guest posting session on her blog about a time in our life when we felt like we didn’t belong. Writing humorously affords me the safety net to say, “Just kidding!” if I sense reader disapproval. But I’ve decided that “He Who Laughs Last Lacks Life/Love/Lushness” so I took the chance of self-exposure. If this subject interests anyone, my novel was inspired by these true life events. You can simply click on the “Novel” link at the top of my blog. And thank you again to “Holistic Wayfarer” for making this possible during a crazy time when I’ve been traveling out of state, and dealing with a million other things. She offered me the chance for a cooling catharsis. Write on my friends – – promise to visit all soon!
Stephanie

Little Miss Flawed's avatarA Holistic Journey

Sugar and spice
And everything nice,
That’s what little girls are made of!

Snips and snails
And puppy-dogs’ tails,
That’s what little boys are made of!

What the heck are “snips”? Sounds like what’s leftover after the barber cuts hair.  Snails?  Ew!  And the dog’s tails?  As a child, this poem made me squirm.  When I grew older, I heard another one:

A son is a son until he takes a wife.  But a daughter is your daughter for the rest of her life.

Really?  Sons equal desertion?  And there’s the famous “Boys will be boys.”  Often said to justify inappropriate or violent behavior.

All these unfortunate rhymes (prophecies?) disturbed and saddened me.  You see, I was already blessed with a son, whom I adored.  But back in my twenties, I watched my mother lament that I was the only sibling who ever kept in touch with her.  My brothers…

View original post 587 more words

Forget “50 Ways To Leave Your Lover!”

photo-261Can you stay friends with your Ex?? Some people might think there’s a word missing from that sentence. It’s supposed to say Ex-Smoker or an Ex-Sister-in-law or an Ex-Con, right?  Um, no.  Just plain Ex.  As in your Ex-Spouse or Ex-boy/girlfriend.  Well in that case – – the answer is obviously a resounding, “No!” Right?

Next blog, please!

But hold on just a minute.  I am here to suggest otherwise.  I am actually proof of otherwise.  Sort of.  You see with my first divorce, even though we have kids together – – we don’t speak except for the essentials. Arranging the Time for drop-off and pick-up, report cards, orthodontist bills, etc. Second divorce, I decided to do the exact opposite to see if it would lead to better results.  Not only would we stay civil, but we would stay good friends. Having done it both ways, I am now going to write the sequel to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  The Ex plays both parts.

When you stay Bitter Enemies you always know exactly where things stand!

First Ex:   Because of the holiday, the check was delayed in the mail.

Me:   Assuming you sent it.

First Ex:  F**K   You.

Me:  Jerk.

First Ex:  Goodbye Bitch.

So that pretty much followed the “expedient and effective ex-spouse communication” formula called:   “L.I.S.T.E.N”  =   Lemme Insinuate Something Terrible,  End Neatly.

But let’s see what things sound like when you’re “Good Friends.”

Second Ex:  Hi there!  What time is the birthday party tonight?

Me:  Silly me.  I thought I told you several times already.  6:30.  Looking forward to having you.  Oh, and you wrapped his present, right?

Second Ex:  No. I thought you would do that.  You’re so much better at it than I am.

Me:  How sweet of you to say, Dear-heart.  Okay, I’ll come pick it up so I’ll have time to get it ready beforehand.

Second Ex:  Great, give me an hour while I go out and find something.

Me:  Oh?  Are you saying you haven’t bought our son, who turned ten years old as of 8:20 this morning, his own birthday present yet?

Second Ex:  Thank you for reminding me of that pertinent information, Miss Organizational Queen.

Me:  You’re welcome.  Nothing ever changes.  I give you one simple assignment…

Second Ex:  Excuuuuse me!  Some people work all week long.

Me:  And what do you call cleaning, cooking, laundry, bathing, helping with homework, refereeing fights, carpooling. . .

Second Ex:  Watching soap operas and eating Bon-Bons  and. . . Hello?  Hello, are you still there??

What is a Bon-Bon anyhow??

What exactly do you think could be inside one of these things?

What exactly do you think could be inside one of these things?

So in case you’re wondering, the above conversation followed the “communication while staying friends with your Ex-Spouse” formula known as:   “P.O.L.I.T.E”  =  “Pretend obedience, Laser Insult, Then Eradicate!”

 But Now . . . It’s Party Time!

Me:  Hey everybody — – you remember my first husband?  He can’t stay.  He just came over to drop by a check that  was  (throat clearing sounds)  “lost” in the mail.

First Ex:   Do you have a pen?

Me:  Oh? You got over your anal phase and don’t carry one anymore?  Wait by the door please.

Second Ex: (striding confidently past first ex)  Hi everyone!  Sorry I’m late.  The shopping mall was packed.  Something smells wonderful!

Me:  You always did like my Meatloaf.

Second Ex:  Yes, your meatloaf inspired me.  To become a Vegetarian.

Me:  Oh my favorite Big Fat Comic, you!   So, from the looks of that wrapping paper, you got him a basketball?

Second Ex:  Still that Nosy Little Sleuth I love!

Me:  But he already has two.

Second Ex:  If you ever bothered to play basketball, you might know that when they’re old, they bounce crooked.

Me:  Of course.  You would be very familiar with being off-balanced.

Second Ex:  I also brought our pretty little hostess something.  The extraordinary mother of my wonderful children, who always sets the example of never showing up empty-handed.  Here’s another box of chocolate Bon-Bon’s for you.  I had the feeling you’re running low.

Me:  How thoughtful.  Now Get Out.  This is MY house now.  Leave this instant!  You passive-aggressive, rude…

Second Ex:  Fine.  I’ll just take MY ball and go home.  And that’s MY big-screen television.  I’ll just go into the garage and get MY toolkit to remove it from the wall.

First Ex:  Lemme give you a hand with that.

Second Ex:  Hey, thanks.   You ever shoot hoops?

First Ex:  Always time for a little One-on-One.

Second Ex:  Excellent.  Grab us some beers and we’ll play on our court in back.

“I’ve seen more action than anyone in this house!”

First Ex:  You mean on MY court.  I  poured that concrete and installed that net when I was married to her.

Second Ex:  And you have my sympathies for lasting as long as you did, Man.

Now Dear Reader, please excuse me whilst I change the title of this blog from “Can You Stay Friends With An Ex?”  to  “Can Your EXes Be Friends With Each Other? And if you don’t mind, I will not be answering that insane, ludicrous question at the moment.

What do you think?  Should you stay friends with an Ex?  Please tell me in the comments.

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