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.

 

 

 

The Haunted House of Hormone Hell!

Enter at your own

Enter at your own risk!

In honor of October and upcoming Halloween, here’s a scary thought – – I have a teenage daughter.  PUBERTY.  That coexisting with MENOPAUSE is all I need say for you to envision the daily terror in my household.

When we mess up, we blame our own personal hormones. And when we’re angry, we get to scream and curse at each other’s hormones. I never realized how much hormones took their toll until a note sent from my 9-year-old son’s teacher read, “Desmond says he can’t finish homework because there’s too many “Hoarse-Moans” in his house?” Sounds like a good name if we formed a band, right?  Or we could simply have a decal on our drum ala “Josie & the Pussy Cats.”  Ours would say, “The Harmonious Hormone Hussies.”

Having a daughter’s puberty coinciding with your Menopause is bad enough, but with more of us putting off childbirth for careers, the collision of Mothering babies and toddlers with Menopause is as deafening as a train wreck. And not nearly as pretty. I call this category of women:

“The Stressed Breed Who Breast-Feed”

Is this mother Angry at her teen daughter or embarrassed she cannot remember her name?

Is this mother Angry at her teen daughter or just embarrassed she cannot remember her name?

So here’s some tips on how menopause and motherhood can actually work together in tandem, doing Double Duty in your life. But before you read on, make sure when greeting those darling Trick-or-Treaters, you hide your broomstick. Trust me, we’re frightening enough just as we are!

1.  Simultaneously read your child a book as you fan yourself with it.

2.  Snatch frozen teething rings from your baby’s mouth to wear as bracelets on the pulse points of your wrists during hot flashes.

3.  Rocking chairs and lullabies sooth temper tantrums…Yours!

4.  Two hot guys come into your family room every morning, never noticing your weight gain or gray hairs. Ernie & Burt! They’ll even serenade you their new song, “M is for Muffin Top.”

5.  Skip the park – – kids have more fun getting pushed around by your mood swings.

6.  Substitute Gerber’s jarred vanilla custard for cream in coffee.  Pureed peaches lighten facial hair, while diaper rash ointment will vanish cellulite.  Maybe that’s reversed?  Experiment!

7.  You now have something in common with your teens. They want to acquire your car to Drive and you want to acquire their Sex Drive.

8.  Empty containers of Nutella and Duncan Hines Butter Cream frosting make great sand toys. Empty containers of sardines or brussel sprouts – not so much.

9.  Earn brownie points and favors from husband when camouflaging your unshakable insomnia as “diligent motherly concern” by staying up till 2 am for daughter on prom night.

10.  Your mind is set free from all the clutter.  Relax in the evening as Brain Fog helps you blissfully unwind and forget how to help with 7th grade algebra homework. And who can remember that tomorrow you’re supposed to serve on jury duty followed by carpooling and dry-cleaning pick-up? Best of all, you’ll never recollect that this afternoon little Timmy broke the crystal vase your husband gave you for your anniversary. What vase? Do you even have a husband?? Ahh, life is good.

11.  Having both dependent young kids AND needy elderly parents, you can march into the nearest Subway restaurant demanding that oh so clever “Sandwich Generation” discount!

12.  At your kid’s school, create fundraisers for a new PTA — “Progesterone,Testosterone Activation.” Or start a Neighborhood Watch program where nearby households report all hormonally crazed mothers suspiciously roaming the streets.

13.  Your kids absolutely cannot accompany you on “Serenity Retreats” because they’re the ones you are retreating from!

14.  Keep plenty of oxygen masks around the house and always secure yours first before assisting younger children. If you don’t have real oxygen masks, teach your kids to recite this important airline metaphor like the Pledge of Allegiance.

15.  Head for a support group where they serve lots of wine and socialize with other menopausal moms who wander their own “Hall of Hormone Hell,” only to realize their “hall” is literally littered with Hot Wheels, Barbies, and Legos.  Watch those bare (wrinkled) feet!

You can't egg my house just cuz I ran out of candy. Haven't you heard of binge-eating disorder???

You can’t egg my house just cuz I ran out of Snickers bars. Haven’t you heard of binge-eating disorder???

Betcha Can’t Read Just One! (Mmm, Mmm Good!)

Brand Allegiance!

Brand Allegiance!

I think I missed my calling to be in the Marketing field because I’m always thinking up slogans and jingles.  I also feel sorry for Generic store brands because they don’t have any colorful packaging or catchy tag lines.  They’re like the Ugly Ducklings of the supermarket shelves. But I can help these underdog products shine by giving them an edge with a few well placed words.  For instance, Let’s take a plain “No Name” brownie mix. Just slap a label on the package that says . . .

“Now with extra Batter!”  Your batch will bake up thicker . . .  even though you’re a licker!”

Okay so maybe not so much that particular example, (you knew I meant the spoon, right?) but give me a break – – I’ve not had any formal training in this field.

Lemme try another.  How about for a Cab Company.

“Our Drivers Are Always Nearby. We Don’t Condone Taxi Evasion!”

Yep, pure gold.  I think I’m ready to branch out into the actual world now with a little job portfolio:

Little Miss Menopause’s Advertising Promos For Real Life Situations

 

DOG TAG

“If you’re reading this, it means I’m lost.

Maybe there’s a street I shouldn’t have crossed.

But the worst is over ‘cuz now I’ve been found. . .

And you’ve saved me from ending up in the Pound.

So pick up the phone and give my owner a holler

And tell them you read about it here on my collar!”

Would a jingle fit on here?

Would a jingle fit on here?

 

What is this, some G Rated job?  I think I can have some sexier promotional campaigns than that!

 

MALE’S TEE-SHIRT IN BAR

Hey ladies, look my way so I’ll flash you a wink,

I can do so much more than buy you a drink.

I can talk to you and complement and flatter,

But lemme take you home and prove size really does matter!guy tee shirt

GYNECOLOGIST’S SPECULUM

I ‘m cold & metal but actually quite gentle,

Any pain you feel is purely accidental.

If I touch you “down there,” don’t give me a slap,

Just checking that you haven’t been given the Clap.

You might say I’m important and quite ‘instrumental,’

Your doctor owns me outright, I’m not just a rental.

I’ll never be replaced with a cellphone or an App…

Rest assured, I’m the only way to get your Yearly Pap!

I could not bring myself to show an actual speculum.

I could not bring myself to show an actual speculum.

 

So much for sexy.  I think I better go tame again.

 

OUR COUNTRY’S NEW LEADER

I’ll take an oath the day that I become President,

Swear to protect and serve and never be negligent.

You won’t find me surrounded by trauma or drama

Like the guy in the White House now, Barack Obama.

So pick me when you vote in our upcoming election.

P.S.  I could also promise to outlaw Ebola infection!

 

And finally a little advertising buzz to honor the reason we’re all here.

 

 

A WORDPRESS BLOG

Do you have some feelings you wanna express?

Or a bunch of friends you wanna impress?

Pick a theme and make your personal gravatar

Reach for the brass ring, or just grab a star.

You pick your domain name – – we’ll be your Free Host

Say what you wanna say and that’ll be your first post.

But if you ever run dry, don’t write these kinds of silly advertising campaigns

Do that to your followers and watch how quickly he or she complains!

And instead of ever becoming Freshly Pressed . . .

We’ll make sure you get Especially Suppressed!

billboard

That’s right, don’t worry . . I’m not giving up my day job any time soon.

Little Miss Menopause:  Don’t leave home without her.  Please Leave Her At Home!

Would love for you to visit my latest humor on the Huffington Post Comedy Section today.

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!

 

Football & Fashion? — Black-Tie Touchdowns ?!

photo 1-13

“

 

 

 

Sack the Quarterback!!”

             or

“Sax Fifth Avenue!!!

 

“It’s the Cotton Bowl!”

             or

“It’s 100% Cotton!”

 

Can a relationship exist where both parties feel equally passionate about football AND fashion? Would it bring them closer??   I’m dying to find out!  With my two ex-husbands, I was constantly left alone on the sidelines during sports season, not to mention wandering solo through shopping malls because they could care less what I wore.

But I’m determined to ‘weave’ together football and fashion ‘seamlessly’ with the great new man in my life.

“You’d be amazed how much the two subjects have in common,” I gushed enthusiastically to my guy last night, as his eyes riveted to the screen during Monday Night Football. I sat conspicuously nearby, turning the pages of a recent fashion spread in Vogue.

“Oh no! Look how she  FUMBLED  with her purse, searching for lipstick!” I shouted, pointing to a statuesque blonde on page 28. “Betcha never saw color-BLOCKING  like that before! I wonder how much  YARDAGE  of silk that took?”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, yawned, then promptly focused his attention back to the set.

 One more time, giving it that old college try. . .

ME:  Well, whadya know! Vera Wang is finally gonna  TACKLE  the issue of  HIKING  up hemlines during the  KICKOFF  of her new fall line.

HIM:  Shhhh, Stephanie – – I can’t even hear the announcer.”

 A new tact was definitely required. . .

ME: (cozying next to him and purring) Well hello there! Did you ever stop to wonder if their team jerseys are made of 100% pure Jersey Knit? Or do they sneak a little Lycra in there?

Six men smashed their bodies together and I winced.

HIM: (mindlessly munching Doritos)  Uh huh.

ME:  What daring trendsetters those brutes are – – bringing back the 80’s shoulder pads like that! I think the chinstrap could be a bit much though. A simple helmet would streamline their look, while still accessorizing those head concussions perfectly. And whoever does their make-up! Haven’t they heard of waterproof mascara? It’d prevent those under-eye black marks.

The Asymmetrical thing? There always has to be some avant-garde "Football Fashionista."

The Asymmetrical thing? There always has to be one avant-garde “Football Fashionista.”

Runny Mascara or a Turn-On for men?

Runny Mascara or a Turn-On for men?

 

HIM:  (looks at watch)  Isn’t there some fashion show luncheon thing at Nordstrom, starting right about now?”

ME: (coyly)  Why? Would you accompany me to it, Coach?

HIM:  Coach?? As in your Coach brand purse?? Look Steph, I know what you’re trying to . . .

ME:  Shhhh, I can’t even hear that official man in the black and white stripes, blowing his sterling silver whistle necklace. Didn’t anyone tell him pinstripes are so yesterday? And white pants after Labor Day! Seriously? That’s a makeover just waiting to happen.

I made lots of loud tsk-tsk sounds.

 

Just then a Levi Jeans commercial flashed on — my hopes immediately renewed. But to my surprise I didn’t have to utter one word to get him engrossed.

She's got the Runway Pose down pat.

She’s got the “Astroturf Runway” Pose down pat !

 

“Hey, I’d sure like to  HAND-OFF  to that  TIGHT-END!”  He nodded approvingly at the backside of a gorgeous model, clad in size 2 slim fit jeans. We’d  HUDDLE  together and talk about our next big  PLAY  – – then I’d make a smooth as satin (or should that be 100% silk?) PASS at her.  Mmm, those little stitched back-pockets would put me into  OVERTIME  for sure.”

 

“Uh Listen, I’ve been thinking.” I stammered, abruptly changing the channel. “Separate interests are actually super healthy for couples. It gives them a sense of independence and brings variety to their relationship. A nice balance, if you will. No sense in both people liking the same thing.”

 

“I thought you might see it that way,” he said with a knowing smirk. “So next time you’ll be more careful what you wish for?” Sheesh, this guy really gets into teaching someone a valuable lesson, doesn’t he?

Football + Fashion will always lead to this. "Fornography!" "Pornball?"

Football + Fashion will always lead to this.
“Fornography!”
or   “Pornball?”

 

Before I responded, I leaned over to grab my Kate Spade purse, which I then launched (with a perfect spiral!) across the living room, where it landed in the center of the coffee table.

 

“Uh, whaddya chuck your handbag for?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Just demonstrating I can throw a winning  “CLUTCHDOWN”  pass better than any San Diego Charger quarterback around,” I smiled smugly.

 

“Stick to writing humor blogs, Stephanie. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader!”

Then he slapped me hard on the behind as I complimented his Christian Dior-DiScore shirt, his Calvin (K)Line-backer pants, and his Bill Blass n’ Pass shoes.

And that was the end of Football versus Fashion week.  Tied Score.  We’ll see who goes to the Play-Offs.

Nope! This is just WRONG.

Nope! This is just WRONG.

 

Any comments are more than welcome!  Don’t know what to say?  Answer this – – have you ever taken up an interest/hobby just to please your significant other??

“We Interrupt This Sentence…”

photo 1-10Today  I  am excited.  I just want to share with someone.  Anyone.  But, maybe not.  Listen . . .

 

ME:  Guess what?  I’m in a Huff . . .

MY MOTHER:  Well dear, why should today be any different?  You’re always in a foul mood about something.  Go do some Yoga.

photo 2-11

ME:  Hi Honey.  Wanna hear my story about Huff. . . ?

SON:  No, Mommy.  I’m sick of the 3 Little Pigs and the big bad wolf who Huffed & Puffed and blew the house down.  I wanna hear Peter Pan.

A good advertisement for breath mints?

A good advertisement for breath mints?

 

ME:  Hi Grandma, I have something to announce – – today I’m in the Huff. . .

GRANDMOTHER:  Tsk, you young people today.  And your silly Nudist fads.  Well, have fun.

ME:  What???  No, Grandma,  I didn’t say “I’m in the Buff.”    Gram?  Grammy?  Hello?

 

 

photo 4

 

ME:  Hey, I wrote a humor post and you’ll never believe it, but Huff. . .

WRITER FRIEND:  No kidding!  We’re on the same page.  My poem today is about the same subject.  Listen.

Things are rough

Money ain’t enough,

Living off the cuff,

Much easier to bluff,

Or be a cream puff.

Until you send your stuff,

And get published on the HUFF…

ME:   Stop.  Get Out!  YOU got on the Huffington Post with THAT kind of writing?

WRITER FRIEND: (snort)  Yep, sure did.  Now let’s hear your news. . . Little Miss Menopause.

ME:  Never mind.

photo 5

(Pssssst.   I think it’s safe to tell you.  I AM A FEATURED BLOGGER ON HUFFINGTON POST TODAY.  I would be ever so honored if you’d take a minute to visit that link and leave me a comment at the bottom of my post over there.  Feeling extra generous?  Sharing the post with one of their Share buttons would make my day!  UPDATE:  Not sure how this happened but I was just notified that a SECOND POST OF MINE IS NOW BEING FEATURED ON HUFFINGTON POST COMEDY.  If you can find an extra moment to visit that one here, I would be thrilled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Holidays: Let ’em Come to You!

holidaysHave you heard?  You can now talk to Santa Claus from your own living room.  He’ll visit live via the Internet and you’ll never have to leave the privacy of your home!  Listen to my family’s sneak preview of this new service.

SANTA:  Ho-Ho, Santa knows everything.  Have you been good boys and girls?

ME:  You tell me, Mr. Know-It-All Santa.  Have a look at my ten year old’s brand new jeans after he decided to go Knee Sledding.

SANTA:  Ho!  Those ARE some Holy pants!

ME:   And do you see my teenager, who merrily decided to dye her hair purple without my permission? And my eldest son who just crashed our Toyota sleigh? Can you hear my 14 year-old upstairs cranking up Rihanna? No Silent Night here.

KIDS:  Mom!  We thought we were Jewish?! 

SANTA:  Hmm, I’ll tell you what Santa’s little eye DOES spy, Mom.   Tsk, Tsk.   Someone could use a new vacuum, a dust mop, sponges, scrub brushes, Windex, and wow, are those a couple of dead rabbits Santa spots under your dining table?

ME:  Those are Bunny Slippers.  But tell you what Santa – – throw in a weekly maid service, and I’ll Jolly well convert the entire family by tomorrow.  Joy to the World.

BUT WHY STOP THERE?  OTHER HOLIDAY MAKE HOUSECALLS TOO!

VALENTINE’S DAY:  Romance & Intrigue!  To set the mood the day before, a mysterious invitation comes into your inbox from “Guess Who?” with a single rose image and a first clue that says, “To find the desire of your Heart – –  Check out the sale at Walmart!”  On Feb 14th, you follow all the rest of the hundred clues across the entire internet to websites for Hallmark, Lady Godiva Chocolate, Florists, Hair Salons, Spas, Jewelry, Shoe, and Dress shops, your excitement mounting.  By evening, when you are still being instructed (with clever little rhymes) to visit Verizon, the local realtor, supermarket, dry-cleaner, bank, pool and office supplies as well as numerous bowling alleys, you are starting to suspect that you’ve been part of an advertising scam.  But at least you’re too brain dead to care that your real-life sweetheart only sent you a stale Hershey bar leftover from Halloween (see below).  Happy Love Day!

HALLOWEEN:  Peace & Quiet!  A doorbell sounds melodically on your computer so you’re alerted to move closer to the keyboard.  Sweet little “Trick or Treat” exclamations come thru the speaker as two darling 5 year-old twins dressed as Ketchup & Mustard stand before you.  You click on the “Ooh and Ahh” icon and within 3-5 days, a Hershey’s gift card will be delivered from you to their home with a “How adorable you look!” sticker.  No more buying the bag of fun-size Snickers a week ahead of time and having to sheepishly replenish it the night before. . . because you ate them all.  Rest assured, if a large group of overgrown, sullen teenagers (not in costume) should appear, you can dim the monitor light and a 40 pt. font text will appear stating, “Sorry, out of candy.”  A newer addition of this Holiday will include mini-windshield wipers that will cleanse away the egg yolk mess without smearing your homepage.  Boo!

Yeah, it's cute but Whatever. When you've seen one condiment, you've seen 'em all.

Yeah, it’s cute but Whatever. When you’ve seen one condiment, you’ve seen ’em all.

THANKSGIVING:  No Muss, No Fuss! Your Personal Chef from Butterball, Inc. streams live into your home around 8 a.m. to lecture on Hens vs. Toms, Brining vs. Basting and stuffing the bird vs. stuffing your mouth.  Pop-ups are a new, cool feature of this App – – From pop-up thermometers in the turkey to frequent pop-up windows onscreen, showcasing kids whining to make cornucopias and pilgrim crafts that you can proudly display as centerpieces. Around 2 pm, the screen clouds over and slowly, one-by-one, photos of your entire extended family crystallize – – yes even Great Uncle Milton who smokes cigars has come.  Your sister-in-law announces the entire family is now vegetarian and your cyber experience completes itself with Grandma quoting the exorbitant calories and fat grams in just a tiny sliver of Pecan or Pumpkin Pie.  Happy Gobble Day!

NEW YEAR’S EVE:  Forget Times Square and the ball Drop!   Instead Drop the charges on your Ex, and then Drop the bomb on your kids when you proclaim your New Year’s Resolution is to go to an expensive ski-lodge as an intact happy family.  Suddenly you smile and shout, “April Fools!” as elaborate fireworks explode in the background on the monitor.   That’s right! This Bonus 3 in 1 Holiday App saves you time by integrating New Years with April 1st & The 4th of July.  Happy Combination Day!

I welcome ANY of your comments – – Or if you like, default to voting, Do you look forward to the holidays?  Or dread them?

Should You “Toy” With an Older Woman?

photo-139Disclaimer:  Occasionally I remember why I call myself “Little Miss Menopause” and do a post related to the topic.
There are board games meant for almost all phases of life – – from Childhood to the Thirty Something Crowd.  But why should a certain gender/age group be left out with nothing but “Old Maid” to entertain them?  Here are some newly revamped fun nights around the kitchen table for the 40 to 60 year-old female demographic.  And men, don’t stop reading here – – you may need to know the rules of the game(s)  if you expect to “play.”
MENOPAUSEOPOLY – – The classic game of monopolizing stuff from your opponents as you wearily drag your little pewter token – – a miniature fan, a Naturalizer high heel shoe, haircoloring kit, Prozac pill, a syringe of Botox, an iron and a thimble (see, I told you it would be classic, therefore still Chauvinistic!) around the board attempting to purchase back the properties of your Mind, Body & Spirit that you once possessed control over. Memory Lane, Sexual Drive, Brain Cell Way, Stability Street, Metabolism Court and Smooth Skin Avenue are just some spots you can land on. The Utilities are represented by Energy & Pep and Hydration. Or take a ride on the Wispy Waist-Line Railroad. But if you land on the unmade bed you must go directly to Never Satisfied Husband, do not Pass the Doctor and do not collect your 200 mg prescription for testosterone.
CHEST – – This is a game of the utmost strategy and wits, wherein you move your Queen many various bra sizes around a black and white checkerboard until you capture your current correct cup size which will vary depending on if you just ate a grain of salt or are up ½ a lb. But breast assured, once you do this, you can confidently say,  “Chestmate!”
HOOTS ON LADDERS – – Best if played directly after a good, satisfying game of “Chest.” The object is to walk by a construction crew and if you can still get any man at all, (even the male parrot on the drywall contractor’s shoulder) to wolf-whistle after giving you the once-over, you win! Batteries sold separately.
I APOLOGIZE – – It’s “Sorry” redone with an Anger Management theme. Simplistic little game with easy to follow rules, 1. I yell or throw my estrogen cream at you. 2. I try to atone while making flimsy hormonal excuses. 3. You forgive me. 4. I do it all over again on the next roll of the dice. Once I grovel enough, I graduate to the brand new 12 step game, “I Surrender” which culminates at the finish line where I sheepishly admit that even my Higher Power has no control over my temper during menopause.
AFFLICTIONARY – – Be the first to draw what ails you and let your partner guess before the timer runs out. You’ll sketch a body with sweat pouring out of it and they’ll guess “a bee sting.” You’ll doodle a giant stomach with lots of excess skin and they’ll guess “fallen arches.” At this point you’ll need a new partner. Makes a great party game until you draw your biggest affliction ever…a realistic picture of all the guests attending who have gotten on your last nerve. They guess correctly. And the Party’s over!  Nite, nite!
THOUGHTZZZZZZEE– – Who needs “Yahtzee” when you can noisily rattle 6 dice in a little jar, simultaneously giving yourself a migraine, just to eventually spill them out on the table to formulate thoughts that are so fleeting in your own head, you usually can’t remember them in time to vocalize, write or act them out. But be sure to scream out “Thoughtzee!!” at the top of your lungs so other players will run out of Tylenol and need to borrow yours. Comes with Tylenol PM bonus bottles so you can put the ZZZZZZ part of the game into your sleep.

 

GET A CLUE! – – Oh that Miss Scarlet – – she’s still sexy and hot, especially with this new Night Sweat edition. But watch out Professor Plum and all other male players – – She’ll conspire with her Gal Pals and then the crime will be “a lethal male bashing with Mrs. White, Mrs. Peacock in the Ballroom with The Mouth” – – the deadliest weapon of all.

Miss Scarlet Nowadays?? Oh No! Looks like my Mother got to Miss Scarlet and chopped her hair off. Because she thinks "Women over 40 must have short hair." What do you think??

Miss Scarlet Nowadays?? Oh No! Looks like my Mother got to Miss Scarlet and chopped her hair off. Because she thinks “Women over 40 must have short hair.” What do you think??

TRIVIAL DISPUTE – – It’s the game of Life…in other words who argues it better? The never-ending quest to always be right is the central theme of this fast-paced question and answer card game played in teams. Remind other players (your children) that you could’ve gone to law school if you hadn’t gotten married and devoted your life completely to raising a family. Fight with them over your borrowing skirts from your teenager’s closet. How else are you supposed to look younger? And that if they told you they were staying late after school but you forgot, it’s still their fault for not reminding you. Always remember to play The Guilt Card (find it at the bottom of the deck) and also you have one free, “Because I said so” pass to be used anytime you appear to be losing. Good luck!

TRAGIC 8 BALL – – The Magic 8 ball just as you remember it, but this time you will receive prophetic answers to all your earth-shattering calamities. Go ahead and ask questions like, “Am I destined to have a muffin top in all my jeans or just the Skinny Jeans?” and “Am I wrong for wanting men to suffer through every single one of these 34 symptoms too?” and of course, “Didn’t Heather Locklear look majorly photo-shopped on the cover of this week’s People magazine?” The answers of course will always be “Reply Hazy, try again” because the “Tragic 8 Ball” is now a fifty year old toy and therefore also going through menopause, with brain-fog of its own.

Now, I’ll race ya to the nearest Toys R Us, where thankfully they still have the plain and simple “RandyLand”   Candyland, with no age limit to the fun it brings!

 

Have a favorite childhood game?  How would you give it a makeover for your generation?

 

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…

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I’m Normally Not Such a Busybody!

photo 1-3Today I got bored  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 and we can listen in together?

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 cold and feeling a bit “nippy” right now.  I’ll read it later when my goosebumps are gone.

Left Breast: But we must stay abreast of this woman’s body hatred before it’s too late!  The Abdomen alleges that war was declared over bathing-suit season and the oblique muscles were nearly Crunched to death.  Doing 100 a day.   We can’t be stupid about it, either. If we strike aggressively with Breast Cancer, everyone will know it was us. Let’s think about using a couple of Hit Men. Literally – – A stealthy pair.  But not breasts. . . a pair of Hands.

Right Breast:  No, not the Hands, although God knows they have too much Time on them.  Let’s keep this a female thing.  I’ll speak with the Cervix and the Uterus to see what their entire region’s thoughts are about waging a “Woman problem” type of attack.  If it’s done discreetly, there won’t be any eyewitnesses who can finger the Vagina in a line-up.

Eyes:  Someone mention an EYEwitness?   Make no mistake, we see it all.  There’s no lashes aflutter here.  Our gaze is piercing.

Ears:  Piercing!  Seriously?   She shoulda listened to that mother of hers who said, “If God intended for you to wear earrings, you woulda been born with holes in your head.” Ouch!! But nobody hears anything anymore.  It’s all that rap music.  Hey Four Eyes, you got nothing to complain about.

Eyes:  Who you calling “Four Eyes?”  We look at the world thru a new lens now.  It’s a Contact sport these days, E.T.

Ears:  Oh yeah?  Well what’s with the “E.T?”  It’s Eustachian Tube to you.    Just don’t go around saying “Piercing” when you don’t know what it really means.  Stick to keeping your eyes peeled.

Eyes:  Well I never!  That’s some way to refer to the “Window of the Soul.”

Ears:  LOOK whose talking!  Some body organs can be so touchy.

Left Hand:  Did someone say “touchy?”  I didn’t want to let that one slip thru my fingers. My biggest complaint right now is that she keeps letting her 12 year old daughter do her manicures.  Do you have any idea how sick of blue sparkles I am?

Elbow:  Obviously the Left Hand doesn’t know what the Right Hand is doing.  Look!  It’s completely polish-free!

Right Hand: (sheepishly)  Peeled it off.  I go to a 12 step-program for that.  I’m a Peeler.   It’s a bad addiction.

Elbow:  Aw, don’t be so hard on yourself. You just need to apply a little elbow grease.  Besides, we all know who has the worst habits around here and makes your fingernails so raggedy and jaggedy.  Our Biggest Offender.  Just can’t stop biting and nibbling. No Siree.

Nose:  Please keep it down.  As you’re all aware, I have to reside just above our Biggest Offender and you took the words right outa my . . .  Well, let’s not even go there.  Saying her name will surely only make her ______ water even more.   And then there will be more food shoveled in.  And I’m not talking Food for Thought, either.  So don’t bother mentioning this to The Brain.   All the problems that chatty body part brings to the rest of us just sets my teeth on edge!  I’d really like to put a zipper on it when she shoots her ______ off like that.   And if another morsel goes in anytime soon, we’re all gonna pay through the nose.  It doesn’t make any scents, I tell you!  But I apologize for getting my nose outa joint over this whole issue.

Eyes:  That’s right, you don’t wanna cut yourself off just to spite your face!  And we shouldn’t be looking down our nose at anyone else either.  Just keep yourself to the grindstone, eh?

Abdomen: But it’s true – – The nose knows!  I’d rather have butterflies in me than some of the stuff that passes through those lips.  I simply cannot stomach it anymore.  I’m all tied up in knots.  And really, do you see our Biggest Offender ever paying the price for its own actions?  Doing any exercise at all?  It should put it’s money where it’s _____ is.  Because a moment on the lips is forever on the hips.  And I speak for the Hips because they’re exhausted from the Stair Climber she made them endure just this morning.

Thighs: Oh C’mon, Little Tummy.  You can’t speak for Hips.  You know Hips, Butt and us Thighs operate as a complete lower body team.  And quit standing up for the Nose.  You don’t have a leg to stand on where this issue is concerned.  Nobody pays thru the nose.  It’s the limbs who pay.  It costs us an arm and a leg when she goes on one of her fitness kicks. We thought we’d fully recovered once Suzanne Somers retired that crazy contraption from infomercials. But nooooo, then she had to go and take up jogging.  There’s no relaxing now.  Jeeze, we can’t even get our “foot in the door” at Massage Envy.

Nose:  Wow, you sure put your foot in your MOUTH with that little speech.  OMG.  I said it.  I just slipped.   I said that body part . . . I’m so sorry.

MOUTH:  That’s right, Nose.  Someone sure has a big MOUTH around here.  And I’ve heard everything now.

Elbows:  Well, shut my Mouth. As I live and breathe, you took a break from the chewing. And the spewing.

MOUTH:  What’d I ever do to you?  You’re perfectly slender.  There are no exercises for an elbow to do.   And it’s not like I’m spewing bad nicknames at you – – like Muffin Top or Thunder Thighs.   Why you’re practically her favorite body part.photo 2-9

Elbow:  Listen to this.  As if butter wouldn’t melt in your _____.  Quit foaming at the ______, Oh, forget this.  I’m gonna go rub Elbows with the Knees.

MOUTH: Alright, alright everyone.  Right now, it may look as though I’m the culprit.  But I’m no Motor Mouth.  I speak in turn. It’s true I might be a Smart Mouth, but at least I wasn’t born with a Silver Spoon.  I don’t talk out of both my sides.   But nothing leaves a bad taste in me more than being talked about behind my Back.

Back:  Don’t even start, you spineless wimp.  Just Back off.

MOUTH:  Alright, alright.  I know when my back is against the wall.  It’s true.  I DO wreak havoc on y’all.  Sometimes I say things I don’t mean.  I can’t take them back.  Then I eat to numb the pain.  But it’s not like when we were younger.  Nobody’s washing me out with soap anymore.  Nobody’s fixing my meals and monitoring my Sweets.  I’m on my own.  It’s a lot of Lip Service, I tell you.  Not to mention when tragedy befalls us all, I’m the one tries to keep a stiff upper lip. 

Feet:  That’s a whole lotta tongue-in-cheek.  You don’t have to just grin and bear it.   It’s not your fault, Mouth – –  so don’t get cold feet.

Back:  Think on your feet, Man.  We’re trying to get Mouth to wipe that smile off her face.  And own up to things.

Feet:  Look, Mouth is just a mouthpiece.  I don’t mean to be punny, but it’s our Sole Soul that’s got some issues that are more than just skin deep.  Yet for now, she manages to stand on her own two feet, keeps her feet planted firmly on the ground, and last I looked, she’s not six feet under and doesn’t have one foot in the grave either.  So just give her a break.   She’s just eating.  And speaking.   If the shoe were on the other foot, wouldn’t we all just want to put our best foot forward?   I’m just sayin’.

Brains:  Honestly I’ve racked myself for days now.  And I know Soul has done a lot of deep searching as well.  But until we join forces together for an entire Mind, Body, Soul connection, we’re never going to be anybody.

All Together:  We don’t want to be just Any Body.  We want to be Somebody.  Somebody special.

Neck: Then why don’t we stop focusing on ourselves and start Sticking our Neck out for others?

And that’s when I really began to listen more intently  – – because I knew that at last . . .  the right questions were finally getting asked.

Sorry, the rest of the conversation is kinda private – – After all, in the end – – we all must answer only to ourselves.

photo 3-4 But if you’re still only into “The Physical,” here you go – – have a listen below!